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spamgyu · 5 months

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BACKBURNER // LAST PART (Version 2)

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 4 | LAST PART - VERSION 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

She had quit months ago.

He actually was the one that had urged her to do so, making it a point to shame her each time he had caught even a hint of the stale scent lingering on her clothes or skin.

It was a nasty habit she had picked up during her last year of college – craving the thin white cylinder after a night out of drinking. He left her alone at first, at times taking a drag from the cigarette in between her fingers to prolong the buzz of the alcohol coursing through his body.

Unlike her, he was able to quit quite easily – cold turkey.

He had just woken up one day and decided the toxicity was too much for him and he just .... stopped.

Y/n was doing so well, opting to chew gum when she began craving her method of stress reliever; but tonight was her one moment of weakness.

After Seungcheol had left her and Mingyu's room, she attempted to distract her thoughts of doubt and panic by scrolling on her phone and when it wasn't enough, she tried sleeping.

She tossed and turned in her bed for the fifth time when she decided it was no use, kicking off her duvet and bounding to the ABC store across their hotel to purchase a pack of reds.

Mingyu had yet to return from the gym; and truth be told, she was glad.

She didn't want to face him – not while she couldn't even look at herself in the mirror.

Y/n had grown frustrated by her thoughts that seemed to attack her instead of properly creating coherent ideas – coming to a conclusion that she had been the root of all her problems.

If she had just listened to Mingyu and Minghao's warnings when Seungcheol had first swiped up on one of her stories, sending her heart eyes instead of properly complimenting her, she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

And if she had just listened to the one logical voice in her head when Mingyu had suggested to fake date, she would have been able to actually get over Seungcheol – as opposed to landing her in a situation in which she and her best friend kissed.

Possibly ruining their friendship.

Though, he seemed to pay no mind to it.

And maybe that's why it bothered her so much.

He was so nonchalant.

"That's a nasty habit you got there." Minghao's voice brought her back down to earth as he joined her in the darkness of the designated smoking area of the hotel – an unlit cigarette in between his lips.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke through her nose, she let out a small laugh – handing him the white lighter she had been toying with in her hand.

He was the only one Mingyu hadn't been able to persuade into quitting. Though, he did cut down significantly; smoking only a few days out of the week.

"Don't tell him." She took a long drag.

It was sarcasm.

Mingyu would be able to tell the second he stepped into the room; he had a nose of a blood hound and knew her signature scent in a crowded room. Her smell of sweet pea and vanilla will be over powered by the grey haze.

She'll worry about his reaction later.

"Why are you out here? Something happened?" He knew her well enough that she wouldn't be smoking for no reason.

The last time he had last seen her with a cigarette in between her lips was after her first day of working in the NICU – venting to him and Mingyu that pushing on to keep her parents happy with following their wishes of her being a nurse was a mistake.

She had nearly smoked a quarter of his pack that day, Mingyu having to pry the carton from her hands; convincing her to accompany them to get dinner instead.

The two spent the rest of the night telling outlandish tales of their most recent Tinder dates to distract the girl, keeping her mind off of her desire to put in her two weeks and wallow in self pity.

"Plenty." Y/n licked her lips, not knowing where to begin.

The two were never shy of sharing their deepest thoughts with one another. They had spent many nights dissecting their minds in her best friend's apartment. She always did cherish how brutally honest he was, not caring to sugarcoat any of his opinions and advices – and she did the same.

"Seungcheol told me he chose me." The nicotine that once gave her a dull buzz felt like a full vibration the second she uttered his name, almost as if it was a forbidden word.

Minghao simply nodded, his bottom lip jutting out.

She kept her eyes trained on the stick that had burned halfway, nestled between her pointer and middle finger.

"But Mingyu and I kissed." Y/n said in almost a whisper; recalling to the warmth of his delicate touch on her cheek and how perfectly their lips fit together. "Made out, actually."

He remained unfazed, nodding once again. "You're confused."

He read her like an open book. He was always good at reading people; some sort of witchcraft probably.

"The reason why I agreed to this shit in the first place was because of Seungcheol. I wanted to be his– but when he told me– when he said he chose me." She put the cigarette back up to her lips. "All I could think about was Mingyu."

She thought she would have been happy to hear him say those words.

"It's you. I chose you."

The person who she was a few months ago would have leapt in Seungcheol's arms without a second thought; happy that she was finally his.

But the change happened so slowly that not even she felt it. The air had shifted without even noticing it; she had slipped from him... and straight into Mingyu's arms.

Y/n had allowed Seungcheol to spill his guts right in front of her, frozen in her spot – unable to muster a single word except an "okay". He had ambushed her the same way she had done during that god forsaken night at his apartment.

She knew he expected more, leaving her room with his shoulders low. Y/n had also expected more from herself; but she wasn't able to complete a single sentence.

The only thing running in her mind was the kiss she had shared with her best friend hours ago. The one that had provided her a new sense of calm, almost as if her world had stopped the second his lips touched hers.

"Are you saying you have feelings for him?"

Mingyu.

"I don't know."

"What do you know?" He pried.

Minghao was always good at asking questions to allow her to properly sort through the mess in her head – simplifying her thoughts.

"I know that this has been the happiest I've been in a while." Y/n began.

Maybe it was the island, hypnotizing them with the warm sun and the surge of dopamine that their false reality that it had provided them during their trip. Or maybe it was the fact that Seungcheol hadn't rattled her brain in a while, Mingyu giving her the distraction she needed.

"I know that I agreed to pretend to date Mingyu for Seungcheol." She went on. "But I also know that it no longer feels like it's for Seungcheol."

In the beginning, their actions were calculated – each one of their instagram posts and fake dates were all for a targeted audience. The two didn't dare cross any lines, keeping a close eye on the end game they both wished to achieve.

The past few days, it seemed as though the line had become quite blurry; especially for her. At first, she thought it was simply because she was finally getting used to the forced close proximity she and Mingyu put themselves in.

She didn't dare bat an eye to all the small moments where he seemed to dote on her, meeting all the needs she didn't think needed to be met. Because it was all things he had done before.

Except now, she was starting to look a little too hard into all his actions.

And it was all because of that fucking kiss.

All those times he answered all her silent questions, making sure there was always a smile on her face, the small gestures, his attention to the minor details of her daily life... They now had her double guessing. All because the man she could have sworn she wanted all this time, had never once dared to do any of it all.

If Mingyu had attempted to kiss her before, at the beginning of their arrangement, she would have pushed him off. She would have given him an earful for even trying to lean in.

A second into his lips locking with hers, she found herself melting into his touch – almost as if her body had been waiting for that moment.

She could have sworn he wanted it as well, being the one to initiate it. He was the one that deepened the kiss, gently pulling her face closer to his – as if she could get any closer than she already was.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted when Mingyu had chosen to dismiss it as if it was just another normal occurence between them; her insecurities slightly feeding into the thought of her just being as one of the girls on his roster.

The feelings she once had for him during their high school days slowly began to bubble back up, remembering all the times she caught herself staring at him in class – wishing he could open his eyes and fall for the girl he called his best friend.

It was a small crush.

And who knows, maybe this could just be her younger self finally fulfilling her life long dream of being with the boy that had helped her with her algebra homework – consoling her as she cried at his dinner table when she couldn't understand why the alphabet was needed to be added into a math problem.

She was .... very confused.

This was all supposed to be about Seungcheol, and now she was wishing he had never come into their room in attempts to make peace.

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Minghao suggested.

"I tried. That's why I'm out here smoking this damn thing." Y/n scoffed at her actions.

She always did hate how easily she reverted back to her unhealthy habits, especially when she had finally made progress.

Minghao opened his mouth before shutting it back again, hesitating if he should even tell her the conversation he had overheard earlier in the day. He had always gossiped with her in Mingyu.

But this wasn't something simple as finding out that his coworker was cheating on his wife with someone else in their department, or the fact the Hansol took Mingyu's little sister out on a date last month.

No, this could drastically change the group's dynamic. It was all so messy.

More importantly, he was always a firm believer of allowing his friends the freedom of making their choice – not wanting to meddle in the possibility of ruining their chances of them learning their lessons.

He was sadistic like that.

Warning Mingyu about how messy fake dating didn't count – he was an idiot and he wanted to save himself from hearing more about how in love he was with y/n all while she was too blind to see it all.

"If I tell you something about Sunhee and Cheol, will it make the organization of your thoughts easier?"

The thing was, Minghao was holding on to a key information that he was itching to spill out. And he was, eventually.... He just didn't think Seungcheol was stupid enough to approach y/n the same day.

He under estimated how his friend's brain operated.

He wasn't supposed to overhear the conversation between the two, but it wasn't his fault they had chosen to have an argument in public – all while he on the other side of the bushes taking pictures of the scenery before him.

Y/n nodded for him to continue. "Shoot."

"Look, they fought earlier." His voice low, as if there could be any one else that could over hear them in the empty smoking area. "He wanted her. He told her it's her he wanted and she blew him off."

She let out a laugh in disbelief, shaking her head.

Of course. Of fucking course.

Y/n wasn't the first choice.

She was still and will always come before Sunhee. He had chosen her because the girl he wanted had given him the hard no.

She thought she would be heartbroken, but instead a new emotion had overtaken her – something that she hadn't once felt towards him.

All of a sudden, y/n began to see red.

Seungcheol had only wanted to make peace because he had nothing else left, and he thought she was stupid enough to fall right back into his trap.

Why did she ever think he'd ever see her as anything else but a seat filler? It was as if Minghao casted a spotlight an all of Seungcheol's actions – shedding light on all those moments she had chosen to turn a blind eye to.

The relationship she had always wished for, the small sweet moments she and Seungcheol shared were nothing but supercuts – a collection of good memories that seemed to have over powered all the others that had left her broken.

All the times he had left her hanging, forgetting the promised dates, leaving her messages on read, and endless nights of nothing but tears came flooding back – and instead of sadness and pain, she felt anger.

How had she let it get this far?

"I know that you're hanging on to the possibility of him changing– and who knows, maybe one day he will. But it's definitely not now." Minghao shook his head.

"You know he told me he wanted to do it right. He said he wanted to earn my trust." She let out a laugh. "God, he's so– He's–"

"An idiot? Dumbass? Asshole?"

"All of the above." She walked over to the metal bowl, putting her cigarette out – digging it into the accumulated ash.

"Sleep on it, yeah?" Minghao called out as she continued her journey to the entrance of the lobby.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

The sound of the curtains opening, the warm rays of the morning sun hitting her face caused her to stir in her sleep, slowly blinking her eyes open – a blurry Mingyu digging in suitcase was the first thing she was greeted by.

She had been asleep when he had arrived back from the gym – not bothering to wake her to notify her that he had brought back the chips she had requested. Opting to place it by the night stand that had divided their beds.

"Morning." She croaked, sinking deeper into the mattress.

Turning his head, he nodded at her before going back to searching for a shirt and swim trunks.

It was their last day before the wedding festivities began and he had under estimated the amount of garments he needed to pack for the trip – despite her warnings of packing extra outfits "just in case".

"You smell." He mumbled.

Mingyu had caught a hint of the stale odor when he had entered the room last night – a scent that had grown accustomed to as it lingered in his apartment balcony due to his roommate's need to fill his lungs with the grey smoke every once and while.

"I– uh, yeah." She didn't bother coming up with an excuse, nor did she have the energy to fight it.

Just as Minghao suggested, Y/n decided to sleep in it. There was no need to make a decision anyways, it wasn't like Mingyu felt the same way – and it wasn't like she had given Seungcheol the final answer.

The only conclusion she had reached was that she was tired. She no longer wanted to be in the middle of a mess due to relationships. More importantly, not the ones that had left her second guessing.

She and Mingyu agreed that their little game of charades would end by the end of the trip, and she would leave it at that. She'll worry about whatever feelings he had unearthed when they got back to the mainland; when the blanket of false reality that covered their friendship has been lifted.

And with the Minghao spilling the truth about Seungcheol's sudden decision to make his pick between her and Sunhee, she knew that she could no longer tolerate him and his little games. Not anymore.

Not when she no longer feels the same way she did months ago.

"Everything okay?" He kept his back turned, almost as if he was afraid to meet her eyes.

"Yeah, just– my brain is a little loud again." Her eyes was trained on his back.

He nodded, setting his choice of outfit for the day down atop of the rest of his folded garments before turning to face her. "Want to let me in?"

Chewing on the skin inside her cheek, y/n sat up in her bed; crossing her legs. He took this as an invitation to take seat where her legs had once taken space.

"If it's about–"

"Seungcheol talked to–" The two began simultaneously, pausing when they both heard one another speak over each other's voice

"You go first." He motioned for her to continue.

Truth be told, he wanted to be left in the dark. Mingyu didn't want to know what had gone down in their room when Seungcheol paid a visit.

Not when he already knows what she was about to say.

He had unfortunately run into Seungcheol in the hallway the night before, his friend giving him the heads up that he had finally made a choice.

Not only that, but he had requested for his assistance.

To allow him to make a move on y/n, to be exact.

Mingyu felt sick to his stomach the remainder of the night, unable to properly work out with Joshua and Soonyoung at the hotel's gym due to Seungcheol's voice ringing in his ears.

"I get it. I'm not your top pick for her, but– I need you to help me."

Mingyu was well aware they had agreed to end their arrangement by the end of the trip, he was completely fine with it. Up until Seungcheol had made him realize that this reality was fast approaching.

Not only that but the fact that he would lose all chances with her completely. As if he even had any chance, judging by her reaction from their sweet moment atop the jeep yesterday – chances were slim to none.

Seungcheol was the reason as to why they were pretending, after all. He made his decision and it was the one she had been waiting for.

All her hopes and dreams of having a relationship with Seungcheol was finally going to come true.

"Seungcheol told me he picked me." Y/n swallowed.

He didn't dare blink or react to the words that had left her lips.

And she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed by his lack of emotions.

"That's good, right?"

God, someone just shoot him right now.

She shrugged. "Want to hear the kicker?"

He nodded for her to go on.

"Minghao overheard him telling Sunhee that he wanted to be with her just hours before he came and talked to me."

There was the expression she was looking for.

All the theories, the conclusions that he jumped to, were proven wrong.

His brows furrowed, the corner of his lips curling. He was angry.

"You're joking."

Y/n shook her head, letting out a small laugh. It was a pity laugh.

"You know what, fuck him." Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Had the fucking nerve to ask me to allow him to–"

"What?"

"What?" Mingyu replied quickly, realizing he had let his emotions overtake him – spilling his interaction with Seungcheol just minutes for he had entered their room.

"What did he ask you?"

Sighing, knowing that there was no way she was going to let it go. "I ran into him on the way to the gym. He told me all about his plans– God– I believed him. He seemed so sincere. He– "

Groaning to herself, Y/n leaned back against the headboard. "Stink, I'm so tired."

He looked at the girl, his eyes softening at the sight of her in pure defeat. His heart ached to see the girl he had been pining for, raising the white flag after the constant emotional beating she had received from Seungcheol.

Especially when he knows he could treat her far better.

"Come on," He reached to pull her up by her arm. "Just a two more days and you wont ever have to see him. I'll– I'll make sure he doesn't come anywhere near you."

"Thank you."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She scoffed at his acts. Watching as he laid his towel down in between Joshua and Jeonghan, actively avoiding Sunhee.

Seungcheol made it a point to make eye contact with her whilst he did this, almost as if it was his way to tell her that he was staying true to his words from the night before.

Y/n continued to apply the tanning lotion on her bare skin as the rest of the group happily helped themselves to the spam musubi Seungcheol had so generously bought just before they had all met at the beach – mumbling "It's warm this time." only for her to hear when he had set it down.

She couldn't believe it, but his efforts made her feel sick.

"Want some?" Mingyu asked, offering her a bite of the rice wrap.

Y/n shook her head. "Kinda craving an acai bowl, if I'm being honest."

Mingyu knew she had declined because it was purchased by Seungcheol and not because of the reason she had just said. He didn't dare press on the open wound, allowing for her to sit in silence as they listened to Seungkwan babble on about the prank Soonyoung and Chan had pulled on him earlier this morning.

The two boys had managed to get a copy of Seungkwan's room key from the front desk, ambushing him at the crack of dawn – putting on an act as if he had over slept and had missed the wedding. He had been so exhausted from the past few days, half asleep as he allowed for the false sense of panic from his two friends to trick him into getting dressed in his suit.

The group had doubled in laughter as Soonyoung jumped in, claiming that Seungkwan was nearly finished with buttoning his white long sleeve when he had realized it was all a joke.

"I never thought I would hear 'asshole, fuckers, sons of bitches, loser low lives' all in one sentence." Chan laughed, hitting the sand.

Joshua clutched his stomach, wiping the moisture from his eyes. "Oh my god, ow."

"Idiot." Mingyu laughed, shaking his head.

"I miss having us all together." Jeonghan hummed as the laughter subsided, leaning back on his elbows. "We should have more destination weddings."

"Not everyone is bleeding money like you, Han." Joshua snickered.

"Seungcheol is." He countered. "Doubt he'll marry soon, though."

"Pretty sure our only hope is Mr. Finance Bro and Ms. Nurse over here." Seokmin gestured over to Mingyu and Y/n – with their joint income, there was no second guessing they'd be able to ensure an all expense paid trip for the whole group.

"Yeah, if she doesn't break up with me." Mingyu snorted.

He was planting seeds in their heads for their inevitable end.

Y/n bit back the frown that threatened to form in her lips, not wanting any of it all to stop.

Stupid fucking kiss.

"Thin ice buddy." She joked, playfully shoving him.

They were playing a role, after all.

"Please, as if you two could find a better match for each other." Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "We've all been placing bets since junior year."

That caught the two's attention, Mingyu choking on a single grain of rice; nearly turning red from coughing.

Unbeknownst to the two, their friend group had been conspiring behind their backs – exchanging knowing glances with one another whenever the two bickered.

They claimed that they bickered like an old married couple, and it would only be a matter of time before they decide to resolve their small argument with a kiss.

Y/n disguised her shock with laughter, reaching over to pat Mingyu's back in attempts to soothe him. She didn't know how much more new revelations her poor brain can take.

This was not helping her thoughts, whatsoever.

"Don't act too surprised." Jeonghan laughed. "Speaking of, if I remember clearly, Seungkwan and Hansol you guys owe me $200 each. I take Zelle or Apple Pay."

"Doesn't your bank account have enough zeroes?" Seungkwan sassed.

"A bet is a bet."

"That we made years ago!" He cried.

Thankfully, the boys had decided to drop the subject – going on about the remaining few hours of their day lounging about on the sand.

Y/n had pulled her sunglasses over her eyes, shielding her from the sun and Seungcheol's lingering stares. It was almost as if he was waiting for any chance to speak to her, at times joining in on any conversation that had involved her or Mingyu.

It was stark difference to how he had previously been acting towards them in the past few days, joking around with no trace of his snarky tone or snide comments.

Mingyu chose to go along with change of attitude in his so-called friend, keeping his act going strong – as if Y/n hadn't told him about his sneaky plans of getting her back.

Don't get him wrong, it angered him. If he had it his way, Mingyu would have confronted Seungcheol in a heartbeat.

Maybe even landing a punch.

But he also knew it wasn't the right time or place, not when it has been years since the whole group was complete.

The girl laying next to him on the other hand had made her emotions quite obvious to Seungcheol; purposely avoiding his eyes when it was his turn to speak and choosing to pretend to not hear any of his attempts to spring up a conversation.

"Play nice." Mingyu mumbled only for her to hear as he leaned back on his elbows, going down to her level.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She smiled sweetly. Her way of feigning innocence to her recent actions.

Chuckling, Mingyu couldn't help but playfully pinching the tip of her nose; scrunching at his touch. "Watch out, they might catch you being a raging bitch."

"I still don't know what you're talking about." She hummed.

Mingyu had to fight yet another urge to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips, finding her a little too cute with as she continued with her oscar winning act.

Biting his lip, he sat back up on his towel – their distance had become quite dangerous for his liking and he didn't want another repeat of yesterday. "Gonna go play with the guys, wanna come?"

Glancing at the half empty row of towels, Y/n let out a sigh. She wasn't in the mood to be tossed by the waves that were currently crashing on to the shore – but it was far better than being left behind with Jihoon, who she barely knew, Joshua, and Seungcheol.

"Fuck it." She sat up, taking Mingyu's hand that had stretched out in front of her – helping her up off of the ground.

He didn't let go.

And she was more than happy with allowing his fingers interlock with hers as they made their way to the water.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She had gone ahead of Mingyu, leaving him behind the small dining hall Jeonghan and Eunji had held their rehearsal dinner at – her social battery blinking at 0%.

Y/n felt the shapewear she had worn under her dress dig into her stomach, the strap of her heels cutting into her toes – she needed to change out of into a much more comfortable attire.

It wasn't like there was much else for her to do down there anyways; most of the family and friends that had been invited to the small gathering have retreated back to their rooms not too long before she had excused herself.

She knew if she stayed any longer, she'd just get talked into drinking more mixed drinks with the few that had stayed behind – and she wasn't really in the mood to have a hangover during the wedding.

Y/n could see her hotel room door, when she heard footsteps fast approaching behind her.

It was almost like a trauma response, she immediately knew that pace of walk – speed walk to be exact.

Seungcheol.

God, when will it end?

Turning to greet him, she was caught by surprise to see that he had closed their distance quite significantly – standing only a foot away from her.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, breathlessly.

He wasted no time slipping out of the hall when he had noticed she had bid her goodnight – following her up to their floor.

"What are you talking about?" Y/n deadpanned, pretending to not understand his sudden question.

"I–you've been avoiding me all day." Though she wasn't being too discreet with her actions, she didn't exactly think he would be able to catch on to it.

He never did paid attention to her before, anyways.

Apart from her active decision to give him the cold shoulder earlier at the beach, Y/n had successfully done the same during the rehearsal dinner.

She had kept her eyes on everywhere else but him, even going as far as leaving the glass of wine he had so kindly retrieved for her at the bar – claiming the one glass she had finished was enough.

Only for her to take sips of Mingyu's whisky the remainder of the night. He didn't care to protest, offering her the glass after he would take a swig himself.

"I thought we were on the same page." Seungcheol went on. "I– I said I chose you, and I'd prove it. I– you said okay."

Y/n didn't dare fight the urge to roll her eyes, his face flashing a look of confusion at her sudden hostility. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"

"Wha– what's going on?" He looked around, as if it was some hidden camera prank – waiting for a crew to jump out and surprise him.

"Minghao overheard you two at the ranch. He told me everything."

Silence.

He was dumbfounded and she was not even a bit shocked that he seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

She knew that he didn't think she would ever find out about what had happened between him and Sunhee – and judging by his reaction, he was never planning on telling her.

"You didn't choose me." Y/n scoffed. "Sunhee rejected you."

"What difference does that make?"

Y/n felt the blood under her skin begin to grow hot.

He was so fucking dense.

"You don't get it, do you?" She took a step towards him; Seungcheol nervously swallowing as she closed in on him. "You didn't choose me because you wanted me. You wanted a seat filler, a replacement. I'm not going to be your backup plan because your original one failed. I'm not going to be that girl anymore."

Anymore.

"Wha– oh my god... you fell for him, didn't you?" The light bulb in his head had turned on. "You're blowing me off because of him. You know he's not going to treat you any better–"

"Than what? You?" Y/n interjected, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I mean, you said it." Seungcheol shrugged, that stupid cocky smirk playing on his lips – that same one that had been painted on his face during their first few days on the island.

She began to feel the beat of her heart thump against her chest, the anger consuming her. He knew how to get under her skin, and he knew how to do it well.

He had been caught red handed and she knew he wasn't going down with a fight.

And neither was she.

"Being with him made me realize that the time I had spent with you was nothing but a waste of my time."

"You know it's not real right? When we get back home, he'll go back to his old ways."

His old ways.

Back to the line of girls that had waited for a chance with him.

The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched his words get into her head, knowing that he had struck a nerve. "He's just like me, Y/n. You may not choose me, but running to him won't serve you any better."

"Fuck you." Y/n gritted her teeth, clenching her fists at her side as she fought back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall from her eyes.

She hated that any hint of anger made her cry.

And God, was she fuming.

"You have, multiple times." He raised his brows. "Remember?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Her hand was far quicker than her brain. It wasn't until her palm collided with his cheek that she had fully processed what she had done.

It was long over due and it felt good.

"Whoa, what's going on here?" Mingyu's voice called from the end of the hall – quickly running over to where the two stood. He had slowly made his way out of the elevator when he heard the loud smack echo through the walls – sobering him in an instant.

Mingyu had wedged himself between the two, using one arm to move y/n's body behind his. He wasn't too sure what had taken place, or what had prompted the loud sound – but he knew it wasn't anything good.

Nothing Seungcheol was involved with has ever equated to the word "good".

"I think it's time for you to go to your room, Cheol." His voice firm, towering over the man in front of him.

Seungcheol didn't need to be told twice, scoffing as he turned his heel towards the other side of the corridor.

"Are you okay?" Mingyu's eyes wide as he faced her, placing both hands on either side of her shoulders as he scanned her. "Did he hurt you?"

Y/n shook her head as the pads of his thumb wiped away the remaining tears on her face. "I slapped him."

"Oh." Mingyu paused.

"He– I can't believe I defended him for so long." She sniffled.

A wave of embarrassment crashed into her as she recalled all the times she had made excuses for all his actions like her life depended on it. She could have sworn the man she had initially fell for was not the same one she had just faced, unable to fully wrap her mind around what had just taken place.

"Everyone makes mistakes." Mingyu used the sleeve of his button down to wipe her nose, earning a laugh from the girl.

"I don't have snot, you idiot." Y/n lightly smacked his arm away.

"I know." He laughed. "Just wanted to make you smile."

Seungcheol was wrong. Though they had shared some similarities, Mingyu was nowhere near like him.

Especially not when it came to her.

Mingyu had and will always treat her delicately. He would never dare say or do anything to hurt her.

Like he said a few days back, he'd do anything for her happiness.

Getting over him may just be far more painful that getting over Seungcheol.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

To say the setting was beautiful was an understatement; the grassy lawn of the hotel had been transformed to any bride's dream.

Various kinds of white flowers lined the rows and the altar, creating a sight that only a girl could have imagined and pinned on her pinterest board.

Y/n's breath had been taken away when she had first taken a seat, snapping a few pictures before they were instructed to put all their devices away for an unplug ceremony.

She couldn't help but be in awe as the each second passed, shedding a few tears when she had caught a glimpse of Jeonghan's lips quivering at the sight of Eunji making her way down the aisle.

"Jeonghan," Eunji spoke into the mic, taking her turn to profess her vows in front of their guests; a wide grin on her face. "People often talk about how difficult relationships are and I happily can say that I can't relate to them. I get that relationships takes a lot of work, but being with you have never felt like this. It's like I clocked into a shift with my favorite coworker. Our days have always been filled with laughter, the only tears you've ever brought me were when you would make those stupid silly jokes that I love so much. They say love is hard but our love has been the easiest part of my life. And I guess, it's because you have made it so easy. You're not only my life partner but my best friend and I can't wait to start this new chapter of our life together. Today, as I stand here in front of our families and friends, I Park Eunji take you Yoon Jeonghan as my lawfully wedded husband."

While everyone clapped, some wiping away their tears, Y/n couldn't help but let here eyes stray to the line of groomsmen that stood behind Jeonghan — her eyes meeting Mingyu's who has had his eyes trained on her even before Eunji began her vows.

Everything Eunji had described about Jeonghan was what y/n had come to realize about Mingyu two days ago. That easy love, those days filled with laughter, the silly jokes – they were all connecting back to Mingyu.

Y/n had always thought that when someone was in love, they felt butterflies in their stomach – creating a restless buzz each time they were near the person they were destined to be with.

She had mistaken the lack of butterflies whenever she was around Mingyu as her not actually having any feelings for him – but simply being caught up in their act of faux lovers.

This whole time, it was because he brought a new sense of calm upon her. She had been in a constant state of fight or flight for such a long time that she failed to realize that he was the only one that could pull her out of it all the chaos that surrounded her.

He was the calm after the storm – hurricane to be exact.

Sending her a wink from where he stood, Mingyu couldn't help but crack a smile as she returned it.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

They were both returning from the bar, each with a drink in hand, when the sound of familiar chorus of voices blared through the speakers.

It was as if they the same thought had ran across their mind at the same time, exchanging knowing glances before letting out a soft laugh.

Baby I'm yours. And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky.

It was their song.

They were both well aware it was a love song, but they didn't care. It had held some weird attachment to the two, being the first song she had recommended to him when they were teenagers.

It was her poor attempts of hinting her feelings towards the boy at the time, but his undeveloped frontal lobe never put two and two together – finding the melody of the song beautiful.

She had played it countless of times around him that when he had later heard the song without her, his mind went straight to all the times she would softly hum along to the tune.

She had pavloved him.

This song would follow them throughout the years, having it's fair share of being blasted in their cars or apartments – obnoxiously dancing and singing along to the old time tune cover.

They were at their assigned table within seconds, setting their drinks down. Before she could even take a seat, Mingyu had stepped in front of her – holding his hand out.

"May I have this dance?" A playful grin on his lips.

He wasn't going to waste this perfect opportunity. It was their last night together as a couple.

Their last dance.

He was never going to have this same chance again, and he was going to make the most of it.

One last time.

"You may." Y/n laughed, taking his hand – allowing him to lead her to the center of the room, joining other paired up bodies.

"Oh gross!" Minghao pretended to gag as he took their unattended drinks – claiming it as his own.

"Yours until the poets ran out of rhyme..." Mingyu sang, spinning her.

A giggle emitted from her lips as he caught her, dipping her before they swayed like two idiots.

"I didn't get to thank you for last night." Y/n relaxed her arms around his neck.

After they had gone back to their room, he allowed her to join him in his bed – patting her back as she cried into one of his pillow. He listened until she had fallen asleep in the middle of her endless rant — rambling on and on about how stupid she was to allow Seungcheol to continuously break her heart.

Mingyu didn't dare wake her, knowing that the her emotions had taken a toll on her. Instead, he allowed Y/n to stay – making sure not to cross the metaphorical boundary he had drawn in his head as she lightly snored on the left side of the bed.

By the time she woke, he had already left the room – having joined the rest of the groomsmen for their scheduled breakfast and pre-wedding game of golf.

Not without a text notifying her of this, of course.

Not that he needed to tell her, it was out of pure courtesy.

"S'fine. I just hope the next guy you date doesn't give you a hard time." Mingyu shrugged.

He had hoped the next and final guy was him.

"Are you getting tired of wiping my tears?" She countered, playfully.

"Tired of seeing you cry over men." He corrected.

"Me too." Y/n sighed. "I think I won't date any guy until I find the same kind of love Eunji described. You know, the easy kind. The one that makes all the shitty days not seem all that bad."

She maintained her eye contact with him as she spoke — and if he had been able to read her thoughts before, he would be able to tell that she was describing him.

"It wasn't a mistake." Mingyu hoped he had guessed her unspoken words correctly. "I meant it."

He was talking about the kiss.

Y/n felt her breath hitch in her throat — coming out as a hiccup.

She had initially felt unsure about her feelings towards him — afraid that it was nothing but her mind playing tricks on her.

But she also knew him better than she knew herself. The second she had caught his stare after Eunji's vows, she had never felt more sure in her life.

He had felt the same way.

It was only a matter of how either one of them was going to bring it up.

"How long?" Y/n knew that he wasn't one to act impulsively around her — she hated surprises.

Even the good ones.

She knew that if he truly meant to kiss her, it was something that he had been thinking of for quite some time now.

"Been waiting for months now."

"Months?"

"Maybe even years." Mingyu replied with a shrug.

"Years?"

This was it. He was going to finally allow himself to tell her the same words he had recited over and over again in front of the mirror.

As the final chorus of the song began, Mingyu allowed for the singers voices to drown out all the other noises around them — his eyes blurring everything but her.

"It's always been you." Mingyu's voice was soft, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. "To me, there was never first, second, third, or fourth choice. It's you."

He looked at her in pure adoration, his brows turned down and eyes filled with stars — a look she had never seen before.

"It was you when you spent nearly every day waiting for me to finish basketball practice in high school. It was you when you stayed up all night to help me study for my econ final at the library our sophomore year in college. It was you when you rescued from a shitty dinner at my parents five months ago. It's you now and it's going to be you tomorrow, and the next day, and all the days after that."

All while she was hoping to be the first pick in Seuncheol's life, she had been the first and only in Mingyu's.

He didn't dare keep a spare — he knew no one could measure up to Y/n.

As the song wrapped up, he stepped away from her — giving her one last spin before pulling her back in. "I hope it's me too." He whispered.

Taking his hand, she guided him away from the chaos of the party and out into the stillness of patio, with the only thing to be heard was the muffled music behind the closed doors and the distant sound of the waves crashing on to the shore.

"You know, you never gave me butterflies." Y/n began.

"Did you bring me out here to rej—"

Y/n held her hand up, stopping him mid sentence. "I guess I was so used to the emotional rollercoaster that all my exes have put me through that I began mistaking that gut feeling, you know— the one that warns you that something was a bad idea— as butterflies. Whenever I'm around you, I don't feel anything in my stomach because I feel safe."

Mingyu's confusion had once again turned into adoration, practically melting into her hand as he clung onto her words.

"That easy love Eunji spoke of, the one I said I wanted. It's you." Y/n continued. "You're the easiest part of my day— hell, you're the easiest part of my life. Whenever I'm with you, I have no worries, no doubts. It took me a while but, it's yo—"

Mingyu couldn't wait any longer, he was practically bouncing on his toes before he closed the gap between them — swooping down to capture her lips with his.

"Wait—" She pulled away with a giggle. "I have more to sa—"

Mingyu shook his head, dipping back down to meet her lips. "Save it for your vows." He mumbled.

Vows.

Pulling away once again, y/n gave him a look — all while he pouted.

How many times was she going to do this?

"Wha— don't tell me you said all that with no plans on marrying me."

"Are you saying you want to marry me?" She emphasized.

Mingyu used his thumb to gesture over to where the reception was currently being held, his head tilting. "Did you not just hear what I told you on the dance floor?"

"Yeah but—"

"Exactly, so can I please kiss you now?"

"Yeah okay—Ah slow down." She held up a finger, wagging it at him. "I swear to God, Kim Mingyu if you break my he—"

"Shut up, stink." Kissing her for the third time in under five minutes — smiling as he felt her relax under his touch.

All those heartbreaks, the tears he wiped – they were finally ending.

War has ended.

Y/n was finally in the arms of the man that never dared to put a frown on her face, getting the love that she deserved.

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken / @naturelvrgfstealer / @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter / @musingsofananxiouspotato / @f4iryjjosh / @gatorgirl007 / @girlwithimaginarybiaslist / @daisawa / @ttragiquee / @luchiet / @loveforred /@vannabanana1995 / @uniq-tastic / @porridgesblog / @haolistic / @bbl32 / @calumsfringe / @alsktudy / @chansbaybygirl / @alwaysalmostthere / @listxn / @soupbinlily / @hanniebaby95 / @yonabutnotyuna / @buffhoshi / @kawennote09 / @wwwellacom / @hanniebaby95 /

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inmaki · 5 months

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gojo fic dropping jan 3 (POSTED!) here is a sneak peek of whats to cum, if u wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!!!!

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn't just good at sex.

no — according to himself, he was some kind of sex god, to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with luscious white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he's done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you'd gotten together - going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn't blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn't initiated anything; y'know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know, your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

"bro, it'd be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!" flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

"everything'd be fine if you didn't pretend to be some incubus that gets girls to cum with a snap of his finger," geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he's resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. "that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. "how'm i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn't trust me anymore?"

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "you know y/n isn't like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow," he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she'll be begging for you in no time."

as usual, geto knows him too well judging by the way his last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. "ya think so?"

"hell yeah, man." the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a determined gleam in both of their eyes.

sorry this is short but i gotta leave the good stuff a surprise <\3 finally my kpop smut blog skills r coming in handy.. i may be rusty tho i apologize

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aprityormarj · 28 days

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Leona clubwear ssr fic

Synopsis: Leona, after a very tiring day from spell drive decides to be a clingy cat to his s/o

Tw: clinginess, leona is taller, a bit of possessiveness I guess?, no beta, bad grammar 👍

Author’s notes: yes I wrote an entire fic of leona that’s 1,232 words long while being a jack simp just to mess with @aivy-saur

Leona just wanted to take a nap today. He had to deal with extremely rowdy and uncooperative students in his club today, he was really annoyed with how some of the guys who were so full of themselves weren’t listening to him at all?! Leona made them do double the work out after a horrible practice game because of them. All of those things almost ruined his day, the saving grace for leona was the fact that his number 1 fan was watching.

How could his mood be soured when you cheer him on while watching, wiping his sweat off when he sits beside you to watch his club mates, and offering to get water for everyone while looking all cute like that. He desperately wanted to see his little herbivore again since club hours were over, he even forgot to change clothes.

He spots you not too far away, you were talking to Jack and Duece as they were both working out nearby to train their endurance. You notice jack’s fur suddenly standing up as he looks at something behind you agitated and before you could even turn around two hands touch your shoulders quickly pulling you into their chest, jack calms down and Deuce gets shocked at how fast leona suddenly appeared. You can feel his tail playing in between your thighs to greet you, his strong yet gentle grip on your shoulders, and how you could feel his chest with the back of your head, damp from practice. He combs your hair away in order to leave a kiss on the top of your ear, you can hear tiny groans escaping his throat while all of this happens. “Herbivore… are you busy…?” He sounds so uncharacteristically soft and gentle, you could even say innocent.

Jack and Deuce look at each other awkwardly, as if 2 little kids seeing something they shouldn’t have “um… we’ll just go now… we wouldn’t want to disturb leona…” said Jack, Deuce nodding as they both walk away flustered from what they just saw. You wave to them goodbye and before they’re even gone leona starts to wrap his arms around your armpits to draw you into a closer hug, kissing your jawline this time whilst he rubs his head on your neck. Unfortunately for leona you turn around to tell him how you still have some errands to do, he slouches down to your level and pouts, his tail swaying erratically out of annoyance, you promise him that they won’t take long to finish as you cup his face, which he uncharacteristically again leans into your touch like a clingy house cat. You can see the mess that is his damp hair he he rubs it against you, his cheeks feel surprisingly really soft as they glisten from his sweat, and his his pupils are massive orbs, almost consuming the emerald greens in his eyes, and yet none of this was able to prepare you for what’s gonna happen for the rest of the evening.

You 1st start to walk around campus to return some things with leona’s hand in yours, but he isn’t satisfied enough so it ends up with his hands on your shoulder, leaning in really close whenever you stop walking. Due to how close Leona was he would accidentally make you trip sometimes, but he catches you every time you fall though though, and then he would lift you up a bit to hug you and then place you down shortly after. If you ever tell him off about how he’s way too close, he would just pout and still continue to be super clingy regardless of what you say. If you ever need to take a restroom break, or do any activity that needs you to have your personal space he will begrudgingly let you go, although the moment you’re out of the stall he is back on your shoulders even while you wash your hands he is sticking to you like glue.

Finally when you were done with your errands and was about to go back to your dorm until leona stopped you “stay at my dorm room again… please..?” Well he’s been very adamant on sticking by your side today and also very affectionate, so might as well just say yes to the poor prince’s request. His tail stands up in approval of your decision and happily walks (pushes) you towards his dorm room. When you enter his dorm, the 1st thing he does is hug you, leaning his entire body weight on top of you causing you to fall down on your bed with his on top of you, chuffing and kneading against the bed, you comment on how uncomfortable his hugs were since he was still sweaty. In the current state leona is in right now he is way too lazy to take a bath or get a shirt to change himself, so the smart kitty decides to just take of his shirt, it’s a good enough compromise for him leaving you flustered in the process, he doesn’t really mind since he does find you cute when you’re all flustered like that. The orbs in his eyes grow even more, consuming the emerald colors in his eyes, completely turning round and black. He carries you around his bed in order to adjust both of you better, leaving kisses on your skin while doing so. He places you down gently and hugs you wrapping you with his arms and legs. He gently leaving licks and bites on the skin of your face while chuffing up a storm. He mumbles about how cute his little herbivore is and how much you make him happy, he can’t help but rub his face against your body while making all of the noises that a lion can make. He may not say it but he’s definitely head over heels for you and you alone and this is his way of saying it. You want to sit up in place to get a better view on leona, but instead he tightens the hug you’re in and gets up closely to your ear “stay… mine… my herbivore is mine… and mine alone…” he then grazes his teeth against your ear and chuffs again, chuffs that are only reserved for your ears. He wipes your arms down with his hands, he loves the feeling of your goosebumps, honestly he loves any reaction out of his little herbivore.

Welp I guess you’re trapped in his arms now and I don’t think you can overpower this cat man sadly 🧍‍♀️

When you wake up the next day, he’s still clinging onto you like glue so you can’t really rise up as well until he wakes up. When he wakes up though he noticeably gets a bit embarrassed (though he’s trying to hide it) “Herbivore… I’m sorry about how… clingy… I was yesterday…” he notices your smile and your red tinted cheeks which causes him to smirk and come closer to your ear again in a sensual manner, his tail wiping against your arms “unless you didn’t mind any of it…? I’d be happy to do it again all for my future princess~”

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #twst wonderland #leona twst #leona kingscholar x mc #leona kingsholar x reader #fluff #i can’t believe I wrote this fic just to mess with aivy wtf #enfp moments tbh #when will I ever get the motivation to do things for myself rather than mess with people #this took too much effort wtf #i hope leona stans will like this I guess WHWHHAHJWHAHA #aprityormarj

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thefrogdalorian · 1 month

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Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count: 3.4k ✯ Rating: Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love.

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet.

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you.

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain.

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood.

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line.

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him.

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope.

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led.

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar.

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man.

Yet, somehow, he has found you.

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner.

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro.

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness.

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress.

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him.

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar.

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness.

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son.

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness.

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact.

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering.

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this.

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps.

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare.

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination.

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness.

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is.

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment.

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions.

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour.

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love.

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand.

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this.

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #pedro pascal characters #my fics #cannot believe it has already been 6 months where does time go eh!

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nariism · 9 months

Text

Cyno never tasted defeat until he met you.

It wasn't a particularly scary feeling— the General Mahamatra was rarely shaken. But the plummeting of his heart to the pit of his stomach was something he was unprepared for, and only you could be to blame.

He found himself in utter submission in your arms, surrendering to you like he was worshiping an oasis in a desert. A drop of water in a bowl of sand; a momentary lapse of the moonlit sky above his head keeping him sane.

No matter how much time passed, he continued to surrender to your every whim, unable to stop himself so long as there was a smile on your face. He was willing to abandon all rational thought if it were you.

"Climb the Divine Tree with me," you demand with your lips against his. He has no choice but to accept— if you started pouting he would just want to kiss you over and over until he missed his regular duties.

"Let's carve our initials!" You light up, handing him the broken tip of your polearm. He indulges you, gently hacking away at the trunk until your names are both etched there eternally, sealed with the promise of a heart. (His heart, he realizes, when you laugh and it feels like the earth has opened up to swallow him whole.)

"Kiss me," you whisper. He yields without question.

"Again." And again.

"Once more?" He could do this until he drew his last breath.

"Be mine," you murmur against him.

Cyno would always concede to the soft upturning of your lips.

"I am already yours," he tells you.

And he is. His entire being is yours. If this is what defeat is like then he never wants to win again.

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hyuckmov · 1 year

Text

haechan — if i believe you

haechan x fem!reader 10.6k, angst & fluff, fake dating to real a/n: thank you all for waiting...this is the longest thing i've ever written :) i really hope that you can enjoy this and the emotions and everything are immersive and not too annoying with the miscommunication/repression i hope. these two are my favorite ever, quiet haechan is my favorite ever and i would love to revisit them maybe in a later fic. anyway, let me know if you like this!! thank you for reading <3 it’s a little difficult to be around your friend group when they’re all like this.

it’s a little past midnight, and you don’t know how it happened but the room has been split into happy pairs, all in their own world. movie on the tv forgotten, jaemin has his arm slung around a girl as they whisper to each other on the floor next to the couch, which is taken up by jeno — currently very endearingly laughing at something his girlfriend said. renjun was arguing with his girlfriend, but you know that neither of them truly meant it. you don’t know how it happened, but it seemed that this year, the trip to jaemin’s beach house had turned into a triple date for which you were seriously 7th wheeling. the sight makes your heart hurt a little, because you suddenly feel so crushingly lonely.

“still here?”

you almost forgot that haechan was here too. almost.

sliding in to sit next to you on the kitchen island, he was dressed cozily for bed: his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, smelling slightly of toothpaste and fabric softener. you didn’t actually talk to haechan that much, you were always closer with jaemin in the friend group, but sometimes when eating together he’d catch your eye after a particularly terrible joke, or you would raise your eyebrows at him for something questionable said. you had almost developed an entirely non-verbal form of communication in that way, the two of you sharing your humor, and yet you didn’t actually know a whole lot about each other. a part of you thinks that you know a different haechan from everyone else, because in all the looks you pass each other and the comfortable silence you share, the haechan you know is quiet and sensitive, with a world of kindness in him that made you feel calm. and although you know he can be obnoxious and loud, his laughter echoing down corridors and smile brighter than the sun, you much preferred the haechan you knew.

you also thought he was the prettiest boy you’d seen in a long while — something casual about the way he would smile, or wink at people, and his habit of poking his tongue in his cheek…but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“yeah, still here.” you exhale. “when did you make your escape?”

“about 30 minutes ago.” he smiled fondly at the happy couples in the room. “it’s a bit funny how the room just rearranged itself. i could’ve sworn jaemin was beside me at the dinner table the entire night but somewhere along the way he dematerialised and reappeared next to the sofa.”

“love can do that to a person.” you rolled your eyes, before pausing to consider that maybe haechan was not quite in the same predicament as you. “hey, speaking of, why didn’t you bring your girlfriend?”

because you were sure that haechan had a girlfriend, who he would sometimes leave gatherings early to see. you vaguely remembered renjun complaining about how he always had to walk her to class, never showing up to gatherings anymore because of some surprise or another.

haechan blinks at you. “don’t have one anymore. we broke up quite a few months ago.” at the guilt-striken look on your face, he shakes his head to reassure you.

“i’m over it,” he says softly. “don’t worry about me, okay?”

you can’t imagine anyone breaking up with haechan — haechan who was so gentle. with his radiant smile and his arms full of flowers whenever he surprised her. haechan who walked her to her classes.

“i’m sorry to hear that. you deserved better i’m sure.”

he smiles, and it looks kind of shy. “if you say so.”

“hey y/n-” you look up at jaemin’s voice, and realize that somehow, the room had emptied out while you were talking to haechan. the only person left was jaemin, who had just finished clearing the bottles and snack wrappers. “we’re going to bed, i’m going to turn out the lights now.”

“okay, thanks jaem.”

he made to leave, but stopped abruptly. “ y/n, remember-” jaemin looked at you sternly, one hand on the light switch, one pointed at you.

“repeat after me: do not trust how you feel about your entire life past 9pm.” a pause, as he glances at the clock on the wall. “or 1am, for that matter.”

you laugh. “thanks jaem.”

“repeat it”, he insists.

“do not trust how i feel about my life past 1am.”

“good.” jaemin nods in acknowledgement to haechan, flicks the light switch, and just like that, haechan and you sit alone at the kitchen island, illuminated by the moonlight through the glass doors.

suddenly, it is so quiet you feel like you want to sit in the moment forever.

you look over at him, and haechan raises his eyebrows. it is a look you know well. care to explain?

“sometimes i get really emotional at night”, you explain. “tend to overthink. jaemin knows that because i’m always calling him talking about one thing or the other.” thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you started oversharing, you quickly promise, “but i’m working on it, don’t worry. i won’t do that to you.”

haechan smiles. “i don’t mind.” he blinks at you and supports his chin with his hands. “we have all night. tell me what’s on your mind right now.”

“really?” you look skeptical. once again, you and haechan haven’t really talked that much at all. you think this is maybe the longest conversation you’ve had with him, with so many words.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i wouldn’t mind.” he smiles, and it warms your heart.

asking you softly if you would like something to drink, he gets up to make hot chocolate for the two of you. and you’re sitting there, not even trying, but suddenly the moonlight and the soft sounds of haechan padding around the kitchen are setting off a feeling of butterflies making their way to your throat from your stomach. there are shivers running up and down your spine because there is something tender and fragile in this moment that you can’t pinpoint, and a deep feeling begins to crawl its way, spreading through your toes and fingertips. all you know is it’s the feeling you get before you’re about to spill your heart out to someone.

“haechan?”

he hums, and the sound could break your heart.

“do you ever feel lonely sometimes?”

you hear the smile in his voice without having to turn around to look at him — its the one that starts at the corners and spreads slowly across his face. “so this is what keeps you up at night.”

“i’m serious, haechan.” running your hands through your hair, you are aware that you are beginning to sound like a rom-com protagonist, but you don’t care.

“sorry.” you hear the clink of teaspoons against cups as he stirs the hot chocolate. “i mean, i guess i do feel a little lonely sometimes. but it’s not…an all-consuming thought.” a pause. “i guess it is, for you though, isn’t it?”

you hesitate, before nodding because fuck it, this has been on your mind for way too long and jaemin was rarely helpful. always with his arm slung over another girl, you had a hard time getting jaemin to admit he got lonely sometimes.

choosing your words carefully, you continue your spiel. “it’s just…it’s insane to me how we are told that life is so romantic, that there are so many wonderful moments in love we can look forward to, but none of that is happening to me and it doesn’t seem like it will be happening any time soon.”

haechan comes over to you, and passes you a mug of hot chocolate. soothingly, he places a hand on yours where it rests on the counter. “you have to wait y/n. i promise, one day you’ll find someone who loves you, and all the things you’re dreaming about will happen.”

“you can’t know that for sure,” you press. “i mean, when will someone write a love letter to me? will we kiss in the rain in the park? will they run to see me at a new year’s eve party?”

“woah woah woah, slow down.” he nudges your mug with his, indicating that you should drink, so you take a sip of chocolate: it’s rich and warm.

“i’m sorry. it’s just over the years things just keep getting added to this list of love, and now that i look at it it just seems ever the more impossible.”

“love isn’t defined by actions and experiences,” haechan muses.

“but i want to experience these things,” you say, feeling a little shy at how raw this conversation was getting.

haechan smiles at that, at the yearning hidden in your small voice. the two of you sit for a while, nursing your cups of chocolate, lost in your own thoughts. enjoying the warmth of his hand on yours, you look at the glimmering countertop and choose not to say anything so he doesn’t move his hand away.

and suddenly, out of the blue, haechan asks you a question.

“just out of curiosity, what are some things on your list?”

feeling a little embarrassed, because really — sharing your romantic fantasies with someone was beyond intimate, you mumble, “just simple things. going to the aquarium. being a couple at the amusement park, on the ferris wheel. watching fireworks together. cuddling while watching movies in my bedroom.”

haechan thinks about it for a moment. you can almost see the wheels turning in his head. you sit in silence for so long, you’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, or tell him it’s not that serious, when he speaks up.

“i’ll do them with you.”

you almost choke. “i’m sorry?”

“i’ll help you complete your list.” he looks at you, as if it’s a completely normal thing he’s just said.

“but…but i mean…” you blink confusedly. you were supposed to do those things with a boyfriend or someone you loved, not just as friends. that would defeat the whole purpose.

reading your mind, haechan added “it’ll just be like fake dating. i’ll pretend to be your boyfriend so you can experience all that you want to.”

you’re beginning to see a little bit of the haechan that you don’t usually get to see, as he grins at you and there’s suddenly something sharp to the smile you always found gentle. “the full, personalised, boyfriend experience. just so you can have a go.”

you laugh, but that’s just a cover for all the questions running through your head. “i-i don’t know,” you stammer. “does it even count if it’s fake?”

“you’re the one making the rules.” tilting his head to the side, his eyes glimmer almost teasingly.

“but what are you suggesting? what do you have in mind?”

“well…” haechan hums as he thinks about it. “i could do everything with you on the list, as your fake boyfriend. in the timeframe that we’re going about carrying out this activity i’ll be fully and completely your boyfriend, yours to hug and kiss and hold hands with, until it’s over. then we can go back to being…” he smiles at you, hesitantly. “friends? does that work?”

this haechan makes your palms sweaty, and makes your breath catch. this haechan makes you feel jumpy, and nervous, and impulsive. you think you’d do anything he asked in that moment.

“okay.” you say slowly, and he smiles wide. “wait no.” you hesitate. “wait, fuck it, yes. let’s do it.”

he laughs. “are you sure?”

“wait.” his body heat is radiating off his skin as all his attention is focused on you. lips still pressed into a smile, his eyes bright and far too mesmerizing in the dim moonlight. and you can’t help but wonder then, “what if we catch feelings?”

tilting his head to the side in consideration, he leans in close, one arm reaching out to cage you in. the two of you are nose to nose. you can count his every eyelash, see the constellation of moles scattered across his face and neck. his breath so close to your own, that your eyes can’t help but flutter shut.

“then that’s the best part.” he whispers.

you try not to think about how you felt when haechan leaned in, or the way the circles he traced into the back of your hand were still burning. you couldn’t help looking for the smell of his perfume on your clothes.

you’re way too easy, y/n. this is only the first real conversation you’ve had with him.

you’re about to turn off the lights and call it a night, hoping to some power above that you’re able to reign in your emotions come morning, when there’s a light tap at your door.

“y/n? are you there?”

it’s him. you spend about 5 seconds debating whether or not to pretend you’ve already fallen asleep, but curiosity eventually wins you over. crossing over to the door, you place a hand on the doorknob.

“haechan?”

you can hear him shift from behind the door, pushing it so it keeps shut. “y/n, wait, don’t open the door. i just want to tell you something.”

slowly, you remove your hand from the doorknob and the latch clicks back, shut.

“okay…”

he’s breathing softly, and in the quiet you can hear it as if he were in the room with you. “y/n, i’m sorry i sprung the idea on you just now. you can forget i said anything if it made you uncomfortable.” he shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervously. “especially the part about catching feelings.”

“it’s fine,” you say softly, but there’s a little disappointment stinging at you. does he regret it?

“but also, if you’d like, i would really love to do all those things with you,” the words come out in a rush, as if he’s trying to be brave. “as fake lovers. without feelings attached.”

you don’t know what to say, and you can tell that for each second you stay silent, haechan is growing less and less confident behind the door. you run things through in your head quickly. this plan meant that you were able to jump headlong into romantic experiences you’ve dreamt of for what felt like your whole life, without the potential of them being ruined by a bad date, or waiting for years more to find the right one. and most of all, you trusted haechan with this.

haechan is leaning against the opposite wall, looking at the floorboards, but his head shoots up when you open the door.

taking a deep breath, you look him in the eyes. “let’s do it.”

“really?” shocked, he reaches for you — maybe to wrap you in his arms for a hug, but drops them, remembering what he had said about making you feel uncomfortable. putting his hands behind his back to resist the urge to swing you into the air, his expression of surprise melts into a huge smile. one that makes you laugh.

“you’re more excited about this than me,” you tease, and because you just can’t help it, you step forward and give him a quick hug. “thanks for doing this with me.”

instantly, his arms loop around your waist, squeezing tightly. “thank you for trusting me.”

the butterflies in your stomach, however, tell you that you were maybe being a bit too trusting. without feelings attached. because would that really be possible with him, who’s currently making your heart race and your breath catch?

it was a week since the beach house. and while the opening of summer felt optimistic and hopeful, now everyone had to wander back to their lives and figure out exactly what they were going to do for the next three months. jeno and renjun had an ongoing bet that jaemin would be fired from his summer job within the week. and jaemin had a bet with you that jeno and renjun wouldn’t find themselves a job that entire summer.

but you knew exactly what you were going to do for the season. and it all started with getting in the passenger seat of haechan’s car as he took you to a waffles place for breakfast.

“hey.”

“hi.” he flashes a quick smile at you. “you look nice today.”

“really?” you adjust the collar of your shirt self-consciously, checking on your hair through the rearview mirror.

“no, i lied.” he laughs, and the sound is all too fitting for the morning sunshine that flits in through the windows. “yes, i mean it. i like your shirt.”

“my shirt?”

“just take the compliment.”

you can’t help a smile of your own. “okay. i will.”

for a while, he drives in silence. it’s a peaceful sense of calm that you think you’ll come to enjoy. there’s a lot of comfort in just sitting next to haechan, watching his hands move on the wheel, his careful eyes scanning the road.

“so, y/n, i took a look at your list,” he starts.

you had texted him a small list of the things you were thinking about doing. the classic dinner and a movie. going to the amusement park. sharing a kiss while watching fireworks.

feeling a little shy all of a sudden in his car, you nod. “is it a bit much?”

“not at all,” he says quickly. “i was just wondering how you’ve never done some of those things before. i would’ve thought going to the amusement park was entry level honeymoon phase stuff.”

you nod approvingly. “it’s sweet that you think so.”

“didn’t you use to have a boyfriend?”

“i did,” you muse. “i dated mark a while ago.”

“our senior?”

“yeah.” looking out the window at the cars passing by, you think back to your time with mark. “he was always nice to me. but we never really went out and did things. we broke up because i was someone who loved romance, and he wasn’t.”

“i see.” haechan hesitates. there was something about the way you talked about mark that unsettled him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “do you think you could get back together with him?”

“trying to pass me off onto someone else already?” you don’t pick up on the shift in haechan’s tone, and mistake it for genuine curiosity. “i guess i could. maybe after these years apart he wants something romantic too.”

although the morning was warm, haechan felt a sense of cold sweep through him. he tries to brush it off. “well, thank your lucky stars you have me now”

looking over at him, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, the troubled crease of his brow, your thoughts of mark immediately clear. “thank you,” you say, a little too emotionally for the early morning and this car ride.

he looks over at you, and his chest eases up at the warmth in your eyes. “don’t mention it,” he says, and smiling at you is the easiest thing in the world.

the line for popcorn at the movies had stopped moving. fidgeting from the cold of the cinema, you wrap your arms around yourself as haechan stands by you, scrolling on his phone for a deal that he saw for a discounted drink combo. one arm slung casually over your shoulders, you lean into his touch just a little.

today he was helping you out by taking you for a date. specifically, the classic dinner and a movie idea that has been long since rendered obsolete, but you had never had a chance to do. standing in line, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, you recall how he had showed up 5 minutes early outside your apartment, holding a small bouquet of flowers, and doing the thing where he flicked his fingers to splay out the two movie tickets he had ordered early on. the two of you had dinner at a nice italian restaurant, and he had offered to pay but you insisted, since you were technically making him do all of this.

“are you cold?” drawing you out of your thoughts, you turn to see haechan, concern causing his eyebrows to furrow and his heart-shaped lips to form a slight pout. “why didn’t you bring a jacket? you knew we were going to watch a movie.”

the line moves forward by a fraction of an inch, and you take a step forward, haechan now standing slightly behind you. “i completely forgot,” you whined. “i just haven’t watched a movie at the cinema in a while.”

haechan bites back a smile, and slots his phone into his back pocket. the arm that is slung over your shoulder drops to your waist, while his other comes to circle around you from behind, and before you know it he’s pressed up against your back. you can feel the heat of his skin even with the thick hoodie he’s wearing over. dropping his head onto your shoulder, you feel him smile against your neck. “there,” he whispers. “now you won’t be cold anymore.”

trying to steady your nerves, you stare resolutely ahead. “couldn’t have just given me your jacket like a normal person?”

he shakes his head cutely, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “nope.”

you make sure your voice stays resolutely calm. “then what will we do during the movie? you’ll be sitting next to me.”

the line moves forward and haechan straightens, but his arms never leave your side. “guess you’ll have to hold on tight.”

and so you do. he ends up draping the hoodie over you during the movie, and he clings onto your arm, head resting on your shoulder. you hold on after the movie when he drops you off at home, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself getting out of his car.

you hold on when he takes you for the next date at the amusement park; and when he tilts your chin upwards to press a kiss at the corner of your lips, your top-of-the-ferris-wheel moment, you squeeze his hands in yours and move so your lips slot against his. you tell him with your smile that it’s alright.

you hold on to him through your dates to the local aquarium, and to the beach. you let him pull you close as he drags you around the mall window-shopping, and as he guides you through clubs and restaurants.

and if some part of you gets scared that it might be getting too real, if some part of you feels a little hurt whenever he brings up the list or when he removes your hand from his, you ignore it as best you can.

“thanks for inviting me to this event,” you whisper, as you step into the doorway of the mansion, which really looks like a castle from the level of grandeur that meets your eyes. a man steps forward to take your coat, and you feel giddy.

“nah, sorry for stealing you away on some random summer night.” haechan smiles, and you feel a tug in your heart. in his suit, he looks like he belongs here with all this finery, the slopes of his shoulders and the slight cinch of the waist looking elegant under the chandeliers, the rings scattered on his hands catching the light in pretty ways. “besides, it’s all part of the experience, isn’t it?”

right. kissing and fireworks. trying to disguise the squeezing feeling in your chest, you smile back. “why do you keep bringing that up?”

“do you not want me to?” there’s something careful about the way he looks at you.

“i don’t.” you say, quietly.

“then i won’t.” he extends an arm for you to take. “tonight you’ll just be my date.” and with your heart thundering up your throat, he steers you into the warmth of the room.

you spend most of the night in the same giddy spiral of emotions, as he twirls you on the dance floor expertly, and winces dramatically when you step on his toes. your hands never leave each others’ grasps, as you stand around tables eating finger-food and drinking champagne. as the party went on, he introduced you through holding up your clasped palms to each of his parent’s friends, earning a lot of cooing and fussing about.

“haechan, how well you’ve grown up!”

“is this your girlfriend? haechan is so lucky to be with such a beautiful girl like you.”

“haechan! come say hello to the kids, they miss you!”

“this won’t take long,” he mumbles sadly to you, as an aunt of his insists he meet his cousins upstairs. “i’ll meet you at the bar, okay?”

“okay,” you smile, inwardly dying at the idea of haechan interacting with kids. as if he couldn’t get infinitely cuter. “have fun!”

“don’t let someone steal my date away,” he warns, as he’s pulled away. “i mean it – you’re mine tonight.”

you’re mine. you feel like you’re floating on a cloud as you make your way to the bar, you’re sure you’re at least swaying on your feet.

“woah.” a hand reaches out to steady you, helping you settle into a seat. “too much champagne?”

you gape at the man who’s sitting next to you now. “mark?”

fidgeting with the collar of his suit and looking very uncomfortable, he nods in greeting. “didn’t know you were coming to this thing.”

you look at him. he had gotten a haircut recently. but besides that in terms of appearance, he looked just as he did when the two of you were together, except for the fact that something about his demeanor was off. he looked tired, and there was something weary about his posture that hadn’t been there before.

“i was invited,” you tell him. “how are you here?”

“one of the ladies there is my aunt.” he pauses. “you’ve never met her. are you enjoying yourself?”

you think back to haechan’s smile as he sways underneath the lights, holding your hips. before you know it, you’re smiling too. “it’s a nice night. this place is really beautiful.”

mark studies you for a moment. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been alright.” you figure since there aren’t any hard feelings, you don’t have to make anything up as you would for an ex you were bitter over. mark was still a nice person, and he had been good to you in the right ways.

“it’s summer, so i’ve been going out more i guess. how about you?”

“i’ve been alright.” he downs his glass of white wine and signals for another one in a fluid motion, and you raise your eyebrows. shaking his head, he changes his answer.

“okay, things could be better.”

“why?”

“just been feeling a little lonely.”

you are so taken aback, that you let out a laugh. he looks at you, affronted, and somehow the furrow of his eyebrows makes you laugh even harder.

“i’m sorry,” you calm yourself down. “i wasn’t laughing at you, not really. it’s just…” you take a sip of your own drink. “i was in the exact same situation say a few months ago.” at his bewildered expression, you gesture. “please continue, though.”

mark shrugs and goes along with it. “i guess i was just realizing that i wasn’t as happy as i could be. there were times where i would be – i don’t know, having dinner, and i’d just think ‘damn. really wish i had someone with me right now.’ you know?”

“i do know.” you nod. “it’s crazy we’re experiencing the same thing, after, you know, so many years.”

“yeah.” he looks at you carefully. “crazy.”

“hey baby.”

a hand slides possessively around your waist, and you jump. the next thing you know, a pair of lips are kissing their way down your neck, as another hand snakes its way around you until you are fully in their embrace. craning your head up, you already know who you’re going to see.

“hi haechan,” you say breathlessly.

“sorry for leaving you for so long,” he murmurs, intermittently, as he continues to plant wet kisses on your neck. “the kids were going crazy.”

feeling like you were about to burn up into a crumble of ashes, you splutter out, “we have company.”

pulling away from you, haechan turns and stares at mark, coldly. “sorry, i didn’t notice.” his hand still draped over you, you can almost hear the forced normalcy in his voice when he asks, “and you are…?”

“mark,” mark supplies, awkwardly fidgeting with the coaster under his glass.

looking up at him, you see a flash of something race through haechan’s eyes, as he tightens his hold on you. “mark. well, hello, and goodbye.”

he pulls you to your feet, and you set down your drink hurriedly and latch onto his arm. “say goodbye to mark, sweetheart.”

“bye mark. things will get better, i’m sure of it,” you say, still left breathless by the turn of events.

raising his eyebrows, he turns back to the bar. “see you around y/n.”

“i don’t think so,” haechan chirps brightly, before tugging you away and past the throes of people, down a narrow hallway that was deserted.

“haechan, what are you doing?”

even in the dim lit of the hall, you can see his glower. “what were you talking to mark about?”

“i don’t know…” you shake your head, still a bit lost. “just about life, i guess.”

“did he ask to get back together with you?” he blurts out, suddenly.

“what? no!” you splutter.

“i heard him say he was lonely. who the fuck says that to their ex unless they want to get back together?”

you take the hard look in his eyes. hesitantly, you call out. “haechan?”

he huffs.

“he didn’t want to get back together, i promise.” he looks at you, warily. “and even if he did, i wouldn’t want to get back together with him.”

it is almost laughable how quickly his expression clears.

“you wouldn’t?”

“i wouldn’t,” you confirm. “i told you, i’m completely over it.”

“okay,” he sighs, in something that sounds like relief. and before you could even register it, he pulls you into a hug, crushing you against him. “sorry, i guess i got nervous.”

“that’s alright,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him firmly, feeling his heartbeat against your ears, and you smile when you realise it’s racing.

“hey it’s almost midnight,” he dips down to whisper into your hear. “do you want to go to the balcony to watch the fireworks?” as you nod, he leads you gently away from the corridor and through a set of glass doors, stepping out onto a beautiful balcony. the night air smells like honey and roses, and the sky is clear and bright with moonlight.

you feel a tug at your fingertips, and you look to your side to find him smiling as he looks up.

“what are you smiling about?”

he hums. “i’m smiling about the fact that my date is the prettiest girl at the party.”

you pretend to wrinkle your nose, and use your free hand to hit him on the shoulder. “corny.”

“you love it.”

and because it’s been weeks, and haechan is slowly making a home in your heart, you decide you need to at least start acknowledging the honest truth of the matter, so you don’t say anything.

as the night sky fills with fireworks and the people inside the party cheer, he turns to hold your face in his hands, the tenderness and warmth in his eyes unparalleled by the lights in the sky.

you tilt your face up to kiss him, and as his arms fall to your waist, with a jolt you remember his voice at the bar. hey baby. the term of endearment swirls in your chest, and makes you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him just a little closer. the two of you don’t break apart for what feels like hours, as you lose yourself in the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses, and the slight tremble of his fingertips on your cheeks. it feels and tastes as real as you have ever known.

except it’s not real. and you can’t ignore it. so you avoid it.

keeping busy and finally diving into all the things you wanted to do for the summer was your only way of telling haechan you couldn’t make it for the next ‘date’, or the next. you can tell he’s a little confused, but since the whole thing was your idea, he’s trying his best to respect whatever pace you’re deciding to go with. you push it all away, and you try to live life without thinking of him and his hands, the way he closes his eyes in bliss when the sunlight makes his skin glow, the way his hair looks after he tugs his hoodie off, and the feel of his lips when he presses his face into the crook of your neck when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

it’s late. you think you’ve definitely just had the longest day you’ve had all summer, running errands all around the city. all you wanted to do was lie in bed and put on a show that you could fall asleep to. lazily changing into your favorite pajamas, you set up your laptop on your bed, and you’re just about to press play when your phone screen lit up the dark room.

jaem: wru

one of jaemin’s summer house parties must’ve been today. you were so tired that you forgot.

y/n: too tired :( i don’t think i’ll go sorry

jaem: haechan needs you

you’re sure your heart actually stops beating for a second. haechan needs you. and just like that, your imagination kicks into overdrive, wondering what he could possibly need you for.

holding your breath, you watch the three dots on your screen indicating jaemin typing for what seems like ages before your phone buzzes again.

jaem: super hammered needs u to drive him home lol sry my bad that sounded weird

you let out a sigh of relief, but you can’t shake the adrenaline that rushed into you when you first saw the message.

y/n: can’t you let him crash at your place

jaem: he won’t stop ASKING for u it’s driving everyone crazy

a voice message comes through. he plays it, and it’s someone breathing really heavily. you’re beginning to wonder if jaemin sent this on accident, when haechan’s voice, low and husky from the alcohol, murmurs through the phone.

“y/n can you hear me? i wanna….wanna see you… please…i’ll do anything…”

“YOU’RE NOT BEING KIDNAPPED,” jaemin’s voice rings out, his words a little slurred but doing nothing to conceal the impatience in his tone. “GET A GRIP MAN.”

“PLEAAAAASE”, he raises his voice in an impressive whine, and you wince in second-hand embarrassment because you’re sure the entire living room must have heard that. “I MISS YOU.”

the voice message ends.

jaem: what a loser but yeah you get the gist of it

y/n: okay i’m on the way. can you get him on the phone?

jaem: do it yourself

on the drive there, you do call haechan.

he picks up halfway through the first ring of the phone. “y/n?”

“hi haechan. i’m on the way.”

“don’t lie to me,” he mumbles. “honk your car horn.”

“i’m not going to do that!,” you hiss, as if he were right here with you. “there are cars around.”

“liar,” he breathes. there’s a pause, and when you next speak you’re startled to hear his voice wobble. “liar. you’re not coming to get m-”

you slam your palm into your car horn, feeling your cheeks burn.

on the other end, he sniffles, and you presume he’s nodding at you. “okay. stay safe.”

“i will.” you hesitate. “is everything okay? did something happen at the party? are you hurt?”

he sighs over the phone. “everything is not okay,” he sniffles again, “because you’re not here.”

you swallow hard. you want to take a hand off the wheel and slap yourself, because you need to remember that he’s not himself right now, and he might regret this all in the morning. you calm yourself down before responding as lightly as you can. “haechan i’ll be there any minute now, okay? but you have to tell me if something happened and if you want to talk about it.”

he breathes heavily into the receiver. eventually, he mumbles out, “nothing happened.” shuffling, a pause, and then… “just miss you that’s all. i want to do more…more experience-y stuff with you.” more to himself than to you, he rambles on. “we’re falling behind you know. how are we going to finish this by the end of summer?”

a shot of pain twists at your guts, and you feel nauseous. so he really just wants to get all of this over and done with. you want to stop the car so you can throw up. you want to turn it back around. you’re suddenly regretting dropping everything just because he wanted to see you, because if this was why…

you keep driving on autopilot. the call has gone silent, but you can hear haechan breathing on the other end, and it’s driving you mad. you have no right to yell at him, but you almost do.

when you pull up at jaemin’s driveway, you clear your throat. your voice controlled, you say, “i’m here now. you want me to come in and get you?”

“okay. i’m in the 1st floor bathroom.”

the front door swings open, and you’re met with jaemin. at first, you think he’s going to tell you off for taking so long, but something in your face causes the words to die in his throat.

“y/n?” he asks. “are you okay?”

and before you know it, you’re wrapped in his arms in a hug and you’re bawling like you hadn’t for months. the built up pressure of avoiding haechan, of having to get into character as his girlfriend and having to get out of character just as often, and all your confusion at your feelings leave you sobbing and you just can’t stop. jaemin’s running his hands down your back and making soft, soothing noises.

you realise that you just really, really, missed your best friend.

“i’m s-sorry,” you choke out. “i haven’t come round to see you ever since the start of s-summer.”

“it’s okay,” he shakes his head, and leans back to look at you, wiping tears off your face gently. “we’ve both been busy.”

but you shake your head. “i really need to talk to you. i need your opinion in my life.”

he laughs at that. “i never thought i’d hear you say that.”

you just go back to hugging him as you slowly calm down, and the constricting feeling in your chest eases. but after a moment, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and when you check it you see that haechan has spammed your text messages with a bunch of ‘?????????’ and sad faces.

jaemin, ever the nosiest person in the room, is looking at your phone with a frown. “you never told me you started dating haechan, by the way.”

ignoring the twist in your stomach, you shake your head. “that’s because i’m not.” jaemin raises his eyebrows, and you elaborate. “we’re just doing coupley things. for the experience.”

narrowing his eyes because he knows you way too well, jaemin asks, “was this something you decided in the middle of the night? it’s sounding very classic middle-of-the-night-y/n ….” but at the look of frustration on your face, he immediately drops it. “okay, okay. not now. i get it.”

“y/n? are you here?”

you still, as haechan shuffles into view. he squints, until he confirms that it’s you, and suddenly he’s rushing towards you giddily and unsteadily, his socked feet slipping and sliding on the floor of the hallway until hes collapsed in your arms.

and there it is: his damn face in your neck again.

“wondered where you were, angel” you feel his hot breath against the base of your neck, and shivers shoot down your spine. “can i call you that? is it allowed?”

exchanging glances with you, seeing how this was slowly making you go insane, jaemin reaches out hesitantly to pry him off of you. “haechan, maybe it’s best if you stay at my place tonight-”

but haechan is quick to shrug him off, and with an agility that he shouldn’t be capable of in his state he pivots behind you and clings onto your back. his face once again buried in your neck.

“don’t wanna,” he shakes his head vigorously. “wanna stay with y/n.”

“y/n doesn’t want to stay with you,” jaemin starts forward again, making eye contact with you as he confirms, “right, y/n?”

haechan spins you around in his hold, with the most wounded expression you’ve ever seen from him, or anyone for that matter. his eyes filling with tears, his cheeks flushed and his lip wobbling in an alarming way, he chokes out, “you d-don’t want…to s-stay…with me?”

“i do, i do.” you assure him, trying to soothe him by drawing circles on his back with your thumb as he bites back sobs. over haechan’s back, you can see jaemin sigh defeatedly. “what am i supposed to do, he’s about to cry!” you hiss at him.

“he can cry on cue,” jaemin mouths.

pause. what?

you look back at haechan’s face, but every expression seems to be genuine: his bottom lip caught between his teeth and the tears shimmering in his lashes, his hands — which he barely seems to be aware of — caressing your sides nervously, as if afraid you were going to disappear into thin air.

“haechan,” you start. “are you lying to me?”

but that was the wrong thing to say. the better part of the next hour was spent trying to console a weeping and sobbing haechan on his knees, who would not stop clutching your waist and biting jaemin when he tried to pry him off of you. and then it was guiding him to your car, and another round of consoling as you assured him that no, you weren’t going to disappear as you were driving, and no, you could not drive one-handed so you could not hold his hand the entire way, but yes, he could put his hand on your thigh if he promised he wouldn’t do anything else.

you end up reaching, and then driving away from haechan’s apartment, because he would not leave the car without you and you figured that you might as well get a good night’s sleep at your own home. and somehow, you end up digging out some of mark’s old clothes out from the back of your closet for him to wear. and now, you’re standing between his legs, brushing his teeth for him while he looks at you adoringly.

he mumbles something intelligible, his mouth full of toothpaste foam, and you shake your head tiredly at him.

“nuh-uh. rinse your mouth out first.”

you hold the spare mug up to his mouth and his lips wrap around the rim of it obediently. turning to spit in the sink, he swivels back to face you, his arms never leaving your side.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly.

“it’s okay. i know you’d do the same for me,” you say, patiently, because it’s true. if you were drunk, haechan would definitely drop everything to make sure you were safe.

that you were sure of, because that was just the kind of person he was.

“no,” he tugs his bottom lip with his teeth again, looking nervous. “it’s not about that.” his arms remove themself from your waist and he wraps them around himself instead. all of a sudden, you’ve never felt colder.

“what do you mean?”

he doesn’t look at you in the eye when he answers. “sorry for bringing up our deal. that’s not why i miss you.”

you think you could cry. “really?” he nods, but his eyes are still on the floor. “haechan…” you press. “look at me.”

he looks up. he looks so pretty right there, his heart-shaped lips and moles scattered haphazardly over his cheeks and nose.

“so why do you miss me?” you ask, hoping against hope. his lips part, and for a split second you think he’s going to lean forward and kiss you.

but then his lips press together. he shakes his head. and again. and then he slides off the counter, brushes past you and out of the bathroom despite you calling his name. and when you break yourself out of your daze and walk, trembling slightly, to your bedroom, you see him tucked under the covers, fast asleep.

“i still don't’ get this ‘quiet haechan’ thing you keep going on about,” jaemin chews thoughtfully on a forkful of salad. “but okay, i’ll bite.”

you’re having lunch with jaemin for the first time in weeks. with nothing much going on in his life for the summer, him waving you off when you apologised again about not checking in with him, the two of you breezed past your usual topics and quickly moved on to the elephant in the room: you and your fake relationship with haechan.

nervously, you pick at your fries. “do you think i should just tell him we can stop now?”

jaemin shook his head. “that’s not the main problem.” ever the mom best friend, he takes a pause for dramatic effect before leaning in. “the main problem is that your catching feelings policy is completely shit.”

you glare at him, but don’t manage to keep it up. he’s right. “you think i should ask him about that?”

“of course.” jaemin shrugs. “but you could also just confess and see what happens.” at your mortified expression, he raises a hand to calm you down. “you never know until you try.”

unwilling to address the fact that he assumed you were in love with haechan, and the fact that he was probably right, you argue back. “you’re the one who’s friends with the both of us. do you have any idea if he maybe likes me or not?”

“i’m not telling you,” jaemin says, stubbornly. “you have to make the decision and accept the risks it comes with.”

you put your head in your hands. “i really hate you sometimes.”

as it turned out, ‘sometimes’ turned out to be occuring quite frequently, because jaemin seemed hell bent on getting you to talk to haechan, even if it was through the most roundabout ways.

such as inviting the beach-house group of friends over for dinner the next day, just so you had a reason to talk to haechan.

and that led you to where you were, currently, jaemin putting the cap back on his black marker as the words “ASK ABT CATCH FEELINGS POLICY” scrawled over your wrist and palm.

“i’ll remember to ask him, i swear,” you say impatiently, trying to wriggle your arm out of his grasp, but jaemin was a man on a mission.

“i don’t trust you,” he insists. “this way, even if you don’t bring it up, he’ll read it off your arm, and you will both talk it out.” finishing up with a few exclamation points, he caps his marker triumphantly.

you’re about to head to the bathroom to wash it off, when haechan shuffles into the living room, and embarrassingly it’s as if your mind is wiped clean.

between the night he slept over and now, the two of you had only seen each other once. he had called to apologize for bothering you the night of jaemin’s party, and you made plans to have lunch together, not dinner (because night time was always an emotional affair for the two of you, as evidenced in the past few weeks).

sitting in the sun, staring at him while he talked, the two of you eating in semi-silence, was enough for you to realise that no matter what time of day it was you would always be a little too giddy over him. the two of you, in some sort of mutual agreement, had left it at that — him bidding you goodbye with a pat on the shoulder, of all things.

and now, standing in front of you, his eyes just as confusing with their tenderness, you think that jaemin may be onto something.

“so how can i help?” haechan looks around the room, his mind on the dinner. “do we have all the materials? or…”

“everything’s in the kitchen, haechan,” you nod in the direction of the dining table. “i’ll show you.”

haechan nods, more to himself than you. then, hesitantly, he starts, “y/n…”

something had to give. but not now, not as you felt everything in you crashing down, your heart threatening to spill over at the edges just at the sight of him again.

“we’re good.” you interrupt. “everything’s going to be okay, haechan.”

he bites his lip.

“it will be,” you insist. “we’ll talk later, okay?”

his expression clears a little at that. “okay.”

in the car on the way home, jaemin insisting haechan drive you, it begins to drizzle slightly. after the moment from just now, the two of you had almost been able to go back to normal, working side by side and sitting together during dinner. topics opening up between you, discussing what happened in the days you hadn’t seen each other. things were comfortable, and you almost felt like you could go back to ignoring the aching feeling in your chest.

it slowly starts to end when the car peels into the street in front of your apartment. the two of you go quiet, and haechan’s body is tense as he looks straight ahead.

you realise you hadn’t even brought up what you had meant to say.

“do you…maybe…want to come inside?” you suggest. “we could watch a movie?”

“it’s late.” he says, almost automatically. he looks over at you, and you look so hesitant and sad. fuck. something stirs inside his chest, and suddenly he wants to do anything to take that look away from your face.

“i mean, i could. just for a movie.”

you smile, and haechan relaxes.

cozied up on your bed, haechan in a pair of sweats he had left over some other time, you slump against him as your eyes flicker between watching the movie on your laptop screen, and watching him. something about the way things were going tonight told you this might be the last time you could be with him like this, and you wanted to cherish it while you could.

the music swells in the random drama film you picked, and you are feeling that feeling again, the one that you get when you’re about to spill your soul out, and even with haechan’s warmth against you — his arm tucked into your waist and your head resting against his chest, the reality that he wasn’t yours was crashing down all the walls in your heart.

he realises you’re crying before you do, as he registers the jagged breathing from your chest, and the soft sounds you’re making.

“y/n? what’s wrong?”

“i-i, i just.” you breathe, and your sobs wreck through your words, each one stabbing painfully at his chest. “i’m just s-so tired of not h-having someone who loves me that much.”

running a hand up and down your back, haechan makes soft cooing noises as you bury your face in his chest. “okay. so watching this film was a baaaad idea.”

you’re muffled sobs soak through his hoodie, and you press it closer to your face because it smells safe and it smells like him. your emotions running away from you, you splutter out, “maybe i’ll never find s-someone. maybe i just have to deal w-with it. these experiences are just t-temporary fixes, aren’t they? i’ll never find someone who l-loves me. i mean, right now i am so in love with you and you don’t even seem to c-care —”

haechan stills. he sits there, motionless, you still quivering in his arms, as his brain kicks into overdrive.

you’re in love with him?

incoherent, you’re still talking on and on, and suddenly he knows it isn’t something he should be hearing.

“shut up.” he says, quietly, but you ignore him and ramble on. “shut up,” he insists.

“you d-don’t want me,” you sob, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know you’ll be embarrassed about this later, but for now all you could focus on was the fact that haechan wasn’t reacting because he was probably completely disgusted at the idea of even being with you. “i-i started to ignore you because it was too difficult to be around you, and suddenly you show up drunk and asking for me, and then you just act like nothing happened and i have the feeling that i’ll never see you again-”

“fuck it,” he breathes, and suddenly he’s holding your face in his hands, moving you away from his chest. “shut up, y/n. please.” and then he is kissing you, his mouth moving on yours, begging you to understand. you think he’s drawing the breath straight from your lungs, and you’re sure your lips will bruise, but you kiss him back with even more fervor, settling your weight on his lap as you lean into him, and he groans.

breaking away from you, breathing heavily, he reaches for your hands and begins to press kisses to your knuckles, trying to ease you.

“haechan…” you start, because everything is so confusing to you at this moment. “don’t-you don’t mean it-”

“what’s this?” he interrupts, as he flips your palm up, raking the sleeves of your hoodie upwards so the words “ASK ABT CATCH FEELINGS POLICY!!!!!”, smudged but unmistakable, could be read even in the dim room.

“oh, y/n…” he whispers, reaching to stroke your cheek. leaning into his palm, completely lost in his touch, you mumble on.

“jaemin said our catching feelings policy was shit…” you blurt out. “and i agree. i want a new one. i want to be allowed to love you.”

gently, haechan continues to whisper to you. “you’re the one making the rules.” trembling, his arms wrap around you, and he rocks you in his hold tenderly. “you’ve always been the one making the rules. i would do anything you told me to. i would love you if you asked.”

you don’t understand any of the words he’s saying. “no,” you raise your voice a little louder, even though he’s still speaking in that low voice. “you don’t want me.” your eyes fill with tears, you can see it now: he’s comforting you, he’s lying to you because you’re crying, and haechan is nothing but good to you, a kindness and gentleness in everything he does that you just know you’ll never feel again.

“y/n that’s not true,” he shakes his head resolutely. “please believe me.”

his voice is patient and soothing, and it’s that tone which slowly calms you down. the gentle rhythm of his hands tracing circles on your arms allowing you to breathe easier, and relax a little in his hold to be able to really look at him. and it’s the worry in his eyes, and softness in the way he’s looking at you which makes something click into place in your head.

and so what if everything in your relationship with him was supposed to be fake — the dates, the moments he’s introduced you as his girlfriend. everything else in between had started to be real for you — the kisses, the time you told him not to mention the deal or the list or the experience at all and so he didn’t, brushing his teeth for him as he sat on the counter, skin brushing against yours.

and so what if it was real for him too — the times where he’s held your hand or pulled you close when you weren’t paying attention, the nights on the drive back when he would look over at you incessantly?

untangling yourself from him, you reach for the notebook and pen you keep on your nightstand. he doesn’t stop you, tilting his head in confusion.

“what are you doing?”

holding it out to him, your heart hammering in your chest, you gesture for him to take it. “write me something i can read when i wake up. it’s so i have…,” you take a breath. “it’s so i have proof that it’s real.”

something stirs in haechan’s chest. taking the pen in his hands, he begins to scrawl on the notebook, looking up at you as he’s writing.

“if you still feel the same way, call me as soon as possible, okay?”

“okay,” you promise, breathlessly.

the yearning in your eyes is driving him crazy. guiltily, he reaches for you again, and slots his lips in yours, holding you tightly against him. as if kissing you was the last thing he would ever get to do.

you have half a mind to move into his lap, wrap your legs around his waist and keep him with you forever, but already he pries your hands away from him and heads for the door, reluctance making his movements disjointed and shaky.

“go to sleep, y/n.” he says, gently. “i’ll see you soon.”

and with that, he’s gone, and you’re left on your bed, the note at your bedside burning a hole into your table. shutting away your laptop, you curl up under the covers, and somewhere in your mind you pray that the light of day doesn’t treat you too harshly.

dear y/n,

last night you told me that you were in love with me. i don’t know if it was the loneliness, or even if it was too late at night for you to be thinking straight. all i know is that i love you too. i didn’t think you would want me unless we were playing pretend. but now i can’t look at you without realising i am completely fucking in love with you. i’m sorry that you never knew, and that somehow i messed up to the point where you didn’t believe me when i told you. if you wake up tomorrow and you still want me, call me. i will do everything with you again if it means it’ll be real.

love, haechan

it’s a little difficult to be around your friend group when they’re all like this.

summer was drawing to a close, the optimism at the start and the feeling of endless days under the sun slowly fading to a blistering heat, which then slowly tapered out into a hazy sense of being in limbo. soon the seasons would change, the days get shorter and the nights grow longer, the loneliest parts of the year stretching out before everyone. the sense that this had been another summer of wasted potential, the sense of taking a deep breath before the dive, of holding love close to one’s heart and hoping it’s enough to last through the winter, hanging in the air.

you had walked over to jaemin’s apartment for breakfast with everyone, practicing the entire way. you were going to tell haechan you wanted to talk to him. pull him away from the group, and talk to him in a separate room. the letter from last night, from him, seeming to burn right through your palms, words you wanted to echo right back at him.

but when you opened the door, you realise he wasn’t there. instead, everyone else sat slumped around the living room, prodding at various snacks and cans, and waving at you lazily as you picked your way through them, looking for the familiar mop of brown hair and eyes you had come to love.

“jaemin,” you make your way to your friend, who’s crumpled into the couch himself.

“hey y/n,” he smiles at you easily. “how did it go yesterday?”

“well it’s still going,” you admit. “where’s haechan?”

jaemin furrows his brow. “i swear he just arrived. i think he said something about getting us breakfast.”

your body moves before you can think to, winding through the room and carrying you towards the front door and out into the driveway. and there it is — his car, slowing backing out. and through the window you can see him, looking over his shoulder, the familiar twist of his neck you knew so well. the arm he would throw over the passenger seat.

you call out to him, and by some miracle he hears you. he stops the car jerkily, and you rush towards him. he had just barely gotten out of the car when you fall into his arms — you think you never want to be separated from him again.

squeezing you against his chest, he murmurs next to your ear. “you read my message?” you nod. “i meant every word,” he says, kissing the crown of your head. “i know we’ve done this all backwards. really sometimes i just wish i could go back and ask you out like i should have done.”

“i don’t regret it,” you tell him truthfully. stepping back from his hold, you interlock his hands with yours, relishing the familiar feeling. “i don’t regret any of the things we did.”

“me neither.” he hesitates. “actually…maybe i regret getting drunk at jaemin’s party.” he shuffles his feet. “i missed you a lot, and i feel like i should have just told you then.”

“maybe.” pause. “or you should tell me again now, because i don’t think i’ve heard you say it.” and it’s something that’s a little teasing, because at this point you know he loves you just as much as you love him, but haechan takes it so seriously — straightening up, he holds your hands against his chest, looking deep into your eyes. you feel a little out of breath from the way he’s looking at you.

“i’m really sorry,” he starts. “for everything. i love you so much. everything i ever told you, every time we’ve touched, it was real for me.”

“and if i believe you?”

he smiles. and it’s a look you know so well, the familiarity in reading his expressions and talking to him without words hitting you full force.

“just tell me you love me too,” he says, softly. “not because it’s at night, and you’re feeling lonely, and not while you’re crying. was it real for you too?”

and even though you’re soon interrupted by jaemin, who urges the two of you to go get breakfast together. even though the two of you keep making lists of places you want to go, and things which feel like love to you — haechan presenting you with music to dance in the kitchen to, afternoons spent restaurant hopping and nights spent driving to look at the ocean and sit under the stars. even as winter eventually rolls around, and the two of you bundle yourselves up in the apartment, his cheeks perpetually a shade of red which makes you want to kiss him —

neither of you forget the way it all started. that first time he held your hand in the middle of the kitchen and warmed you all the way through. because everything was real. and in a way, it always had been.

#haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan scenario #haechan imagine #fic: if i believe you #nct fluff #nct angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst

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xdacted · 4 months

Text

not here

Pairing: Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr.

Warnings: pure 100% fluff, nothing but fluff, the tiniest hint of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 500

Status: Completed

Carlos didn’t get to see her as often as he wanted.

He didn’t even get to see her as often as he needed. There was always something pulling him away. Always a phone call to be taken, an autograph to be signed, an interview to be helped - always something.

But not now.

Not here.

Not in the quiet hours of the morning, just before daybreak, the sun resting below the horizon. The moon cast pure light through the windows, moonbeams dancing across their sheets, stars twinkling beside them. Her arms curled around a pillow, legs tangled together. He didn’t know where he began and she ended, but he liked it that way. The lingering night breeze brushed against his bare skin, sweeping through the windows. The world outside fluttered awake, but Carlos had her here.

Pressed to her back, arms tucked around her waist, buried in the thicket of her hair. Carlos couldn’t see her face, but he had memorized it. Each shadow, each line, each curve - each beautiful feature was committed to memory. The soft sound of her snores filled their room, her heartbeat steady against his skin.

Not a thing could reach them here.

He liked it that way.

Carlos leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, “Hermosa.”

His voice was too quiet to wake her, but he liked to see her nose twitch at the sound.

Beautiful.

Moments like these, where the world seemed to still for just a second, made the distance agonizing. Separated by oceans, miles of land, hours of the day - it was painful. Race weekends were filled with exhilaration and adrenaline. Race weekends were also filled with a clawing sense of breathlessness.

He couldn’t breathe.

But here, laying beside her without a care in the world, he breathed.

Carlos breathed.

Inhaling the scent of her shampoo and the dying hints of her perfume, she filled his lungs.

He breathed.

She turned in his arms with a heavy sigh, burrowing into his chest. Carlos couldn’t help but smile, tightening his arms around her.

He didn’t see her as often as he wanted, but she was here now.

Behind him, the sun began to rise, warmth trailing up his back. Soft rays crawled up the sky, spilling across her skin, and coiling in her hair. Carlos leaned down, pressing another kiss to her cheek and neck. She groaned, scrunching her eyebrows together.

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, dropping another kiss to her nose, “Hermosa��”

“...stop watching me sleep…”

Her voice was scratchy and unused, the corner of her lip quirked to reveal the smallest hint of a smile.

“But you’re so beautiful,” He whispered, nuzzling into her neck, “How can I help myself?”

A giggle fell from her lips like wind chimes singing together - beautiful.

“It’s creepy,” She stretched, arms winding around his neck, “Better only be for me.”

“Of course,” He said, “No one but you.”

After all, not a thing could reach them.

Not here.

_____________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

Also this is my attempt at trying to get out of my writing slump, it's short, it's sweet. I like it, so pls enjoy

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

the burdens of royalty

Genre/Tropes: Established relationship, MC and Diavolo are married.

Summary: the weight of both the devildom and the human world are on your shoulders. if it wasn't for diavolo, you would have given up a long time ago.

Author's Comments: diavolo has a very tough job. every time he said he adores mc or that one time he confessed his love to them i panicked because thats so much. its heavier than the brother's "i love you" because hes ROYALTY and its a lot of take in.

i also find myself thinking about what his affection means for mc in the long run. i mean, surely diavolo has suitors. there are obviously higher up demons like the brothers (and maddi, that one witch that pursued diavolo so aggressively it was...icky.) for diavolo to actually pursue mc, i can't imagine what would happen when those same demons figured that out. if they were to make their relationship official or even get married, mc would probably need a bodyguard 24/7 because demons are OBVIOUSLY not chill with humans (like every single brother threatening mc and especially belphegor, although his circumstances were different because they involved lilith.)

anyways i'll be quiet, i hope you enjoy C:

~~~~~

It wasn’t easy being you.

Your now husband would always tell you that being him wasn’t easy, but now that you share the burden of his position, does that not also apply to you?

It came as quite a shock to the entire Devildom the day your engagement was announced—to think, the Prince of the Devildom, marrying a human! The demon aristocracy would have had your head if they weren’t so terrified of Barbatos. You were called many things (a manipulator and a cheat being among your favorites. Really, the higher ups in demon society would know too much about manipulating their way up the social ladder.) It was like they could comprehend that you just wanted to be with the man you loved, and that race and position and titles meant absolutely nothing to do with it.

If nothing else, you suppose being human was the easiest thing they could target. It shielded Diavolo from most of the backlash, at any rate. The last thing you ever wanted was for the public to lose their trust in him (and never give his ideals for the three realms a chance.) The fact that he only wanted the best for them seemed to fly right over their heads, as if Diavolo was just as untrustworthy as you, the foreign soul from another realm.

You, now their ruler, too.

But that’s exactly why you had to clench your teeth and bear it, bear the shimmering dresses and horned guests and Barbatos breathing down your neck so nobody would even think of attacking you. Snide remarks about your clothing of choice were met with “my husband picked it out, actually,” comments about how delicious your flesh smelled were ignored but met with a stern glare from your bodyguard, greetings that sounded so fake and that were obviously meant to butter you up were laughed at just as falsely.

Is this what it meant to be a royal?

“I apologize, My Liege. This ball runs til midnight. I assure you that you may retire to your chambers once this is over.” Barbatos whispers, strategically whisking you away from a group of demonesses muttering to each other and staring at you.

“Thank you.” you try to smile, but it probably seems like more of a wince than anything, “My feet are killing me. And the guests are just as bad.”

He smiles back sympathetically, and although he isn’t touching you at all, you can still feel the warmth emanating from him. Though the Avatars of Sin fear him, Barbatos has always been nothing but kind to you. You wonder if it has something to do with Diavolo, or if he really is that cruel. You suppose it doesn’t matter, whether you’re naive or not, because the fact of the matter is that you have the man Barbatos is loyal to encased in an eternal matrimonial vow. There is no way Barbatos would attempt to harm you.

“I will run you and My Lord a bath once this event is over.” he promises, and you can only sigh with relief when you notice he’s lead you outside, were the amount of people is nowhere near what it is inside, “Do you have a preference for which aromatherapy scent I use?”

“Use whichever one Diavolo chooses.” you reply, knowing he’ll be just as tired.

Barbatos laughs, a sound so full of mirth it makes you happy, too.

“I am sorry if that was out of line, My Liege. I was just amused by the coincidence. My Lord said to select whichever scent you would like.” Barbatos chuckles.

You find yourself laughing too, despite how nasty the demons around you treat you every time you hold one of these balls. It’s so sweet and considerate and just so Diavolo. You wish you could hug him right now and thank him for always trying to be a better man for you. He doesn’t seem like he will ever realize that he’s enough already, which simultaneously warms and breaks your heart.

He really thinks too highly of you. You’re not that special.

Barbatos leads you to a bench and gestures for you to sit. You do so without complaint, and before you can say anything he’s on his knees and massaging your calves. You feel yourself heating up in the face (because you still feel like he shouldn’t be doing these things for you), but you’ve learned a while ago that he takes pleasure in serving people. So you let him do his thing.

Part of your flustered state is also embarrassment, and despite your best efforts you cannot stop your eyes from darting around the gardens to check if anyone is paying attention to you. Thankfully, they all seem enraptured by an illusionist hired for the event who’s stationed in front of the grandiose fountain. He keeps making wispy demonic figures swallow running humanoid figures whole.

You’re used to this.

Another servant comes by, one by the name of Marie Anne. You know her well. Diavolo has always been very kind to her, offering her a life away from the downright cruel aristocratic family she had before. You don’t know the details, and you don’t ask. It’s not your place.

The demoness curtsies and smiles, offering you a bubbling glass of Demonus. It can’t get you drunk, but it can be refreshing. You take it and thank her. Her cheeks turn pink and she curtsies again before scurrying towards the crowd of demons watching the illusionist.

It’s funny how some demons could be so kind and others so nasty. There were many similarities that they have with humans, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You tell Barbatos that he can stop now, and he halts his motions and stands up immediately. You’re still not used to being pampered in such a way, so you thank him. He only smiles and tells you it’s not necessary.

“I believe this is why the servants are taking a quick liking to you.” he muses, “I hardly think they would be this receptive if My Lord had married a witch or a member of the aristocracy.”

“You really think so?” you say, feeling your cheeks burn again from the praise, “I…I’m not doing anything special.”

“A simple thank you goes a long way, My Liege.” he hums, a content smile on his face as he stands beside you.

You suppose he’s right. After all, you’ve only heard (and seen, you think bitterly) terrible things about the aristocracy. They’re rude and impatient and only ever think about themselves when it comes to policies that affect the entire Devildom. If they didn’t fear Diavolo so much they surely would have attempted to overthrow him by now.

Too bad, you think smugly, staring at the insolent illusionist again as he makes a smokey human child scream at a demonic creature emerging from an equally smokey closet, He would destroy all of you if you even tried.

You feel immature for the thought only seconds later. You’re a ruler. You need to get your act together—you can’t be just as bad as them.

“My Liege, it’s almost time for the first official dance of the night.” Barbatos bows to you, swooping his hand gracefully towards the ballroom, “Would you like to reconvene with My Lord?”

“Please. I thought I would never get to see him tonight.” you groan, attempting to walk off the slight cramp in your calf as you follow Barbatos back into the fray.

The second your shoes hit the shiny flooring and make that click clack sound, there are shimmering eyes drawn to your form. They snap away as soon as they look, though, and whether it’s disgust or fear of Barbatos you don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because finally you’ll get to see your beloved after he’s been mingling with the aristocracy all night. It isn’t hard to find him either, because amidst all the other clumps of beautiful demons you can clearly see an even bigger clump closer to the center.

You don’t even have to mumble awkward ”excuse me’s” as they all step aside for you (mostly for Barbatos though, as he’s leading the way and they’ve already made it plenty clear that they do not respect you) and before you know it, you’re standing in front of your beaming husband and a rather disgruntled Lucifer. He looks about as comfortable as you do in your formal wear, though he doesn’t show it. It’s too bad you know him well enough to see past his facade and pick up on all his little mannerisms he would never allow anyone else to see.

You spare him the teasing right now.

You try not to feel self conscious as you take your place by Diavolo’s side, a soft giggle leaving the lips of the demon you kiss goodnight every evening.

“Hello, my dear.” he whispers in your ear, stooping down to kiss your hand, “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

Lie. Lie until you’re alone with him and can finally be yourself again.

“Yes, it's been lovely.” you lie through your teeth, a single drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into you, “Barbatos has been most helpful. I’m incredibly thankful for him.”

Diavolo lights up like a little puppy dog at the mention of his butler’s name, and lets another loud laugh escape him. Despite his cheerful demeanor, you can still feel the hateful glares being directed your way. In the periphery of your vision, you can see Lucifer glaring right back at the demons behind you, and that gesture alone warms your heart. You are safe with these demons. Things will get better.

Even if better is in a few hours, when you and Diavolo will be in bed and he’ll spoon you and hold you tightly and whisper words of love and affection into your ear until you fall asleep. You discovered his habit for sleepy rambling relatively quickly after the wedding, and eventually you couldn’t sleep without it. If it wasn’t for his love, you surely never would have gotten this far with interrealm relations. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve given up.

Diavolo was the definition of shoot for the stars. He truly was an amazing demon.

“My dear.” he coos, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles that cheesy grin you know all too well and love far too much, “May I have this dance?”

He stretches a hand out for you to take, a symbol of how you two are bridging two realms together. Some of the people here tonight may think that’s the reason you two are doing this, that it's a diplomatic display to marry each other, but they’d be wrong. You know Diavolo isn’t the type to do something like that.

It’s like the demons in this palace tonight can’t understand that you two just love each other, and that's that.

And so you take his hand.

He sighs, a blissful sound that you know only you can produce from him, and sweeps you across the dance floor. His hand on your lower back is firm and unyielding, but it’s not possessive. Even when you were still living with the demon brothers, he never once overstepped any bounds.

Part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t just him that had wanted you two to spend time together.

You suppose that doesn’t matter anymore, not when his grip is so sure, not when his heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you rest your head against him, not when the demons and demonesses are moving out of your way. You know the respect is short lived and that they are only doing this for Diavolo, but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it for now. Moments where a demon steps aside for a human are few and far between, but with you and Diavolo working together, you hope it will become more common.

“I love you.” you whisper to him, the words quiet enough so that only you two can hear them. You aren’t ready to declare such a vulnerable thing on your own, not when these demons have the strength to rip you apart.

And so Diavolo helps you, just as he always does.

“I love you more than anything.” he declares, his voice as loud as a blaring trumpet, a sharp contrast to your softness. You feel your face begin to burn, especially when you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, but you cannot stop the wobbly smile on your face.

“Disgusting.”

“A human? Really? How will they rule us?”

“It would have been better if we stayed with our own kind.”

“What is Lord Diavolo doing?”

The ballroom begins to buzz and you feel yourself growing less and less sure of yourself. There are tears pricking your eyes, but you will them away. You cannot let them win.

And then, you see Diavolo’s form ripple. Wings sprout from his back and horns protrude from his head and there’s an uncharacteristically stern glare on his face as he fixes his malice at who you can only assume are the perpetrators.

You feel safe.

Maybe it’s a farce.

Maybe it’s make believe.

Maybe it’s temporary.

But Diavolo’s dream is possible, and you believe in him.

You just need to endure the burdens of royalty for him—the burdens he’s been bearing by himself for far too long.

#auburn's fics <3 #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me #om x reader #om diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #diavolo fluff #diavolo angst #im slowly turning into a diavolo liker /r #honestly i cant believe i wrote this before reaching the lessons where they talk about demon/human marriages #i was SCREAMING when diavolo said there would eventually be a time when mc could marry any of them :((#I LOVE THAT GUY #and the levi content was so good too #YUM YUM

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d3arapril · 7 months

Note

i love all your ellie writings🫶 what do you think she would do if you were mad at her?

thankyou!!! <3

i feel like ellie is the type to who wouldn't really know what do with herself if she made u mad. tucks her hands into her back pockets, leans back on her heels and just stares at u waiting for u to say something and when you just look up from your phone at her like 😐 she just slumps her shoulders and leaves the room

the entire time she's not next to you and waiting for you to want to speak to her again she's biting at her nails and ripping the skin on her fingers bc she's an anxious girly. communication skills aren't her strong suit so she just.... sits until u come back

when you've calmed down and are ready to face her, she's all nonchalant as though she wasn't close to ripping her hair out bc she upset you. she can tell you've cried and a pout forms on her lips when you flop down on the couch beside her.

she'd pull you in and mumble an apology into your hair, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head. and then she'd offer to rub your feet, pay for dinner, run you a bath, she'd do all sorts until you forgave her...little did she know you forgave her as soon as she left the room 😌

#strong believer that ellie is bad at communicating and shuts herself out from everyone if she's upset/worried/anxious #bae has that avoidant dismissive attachment style #my writing #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #tlou fluff #tlou angst #tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #Ellie tlou

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

Note

Hi Kaia could i order white chocolate,fruit tart,glazed Donut,nougat,Donut hole,with caramel and whipped cream for one piece men: (Luffy ,Rayliegh ,Ace, Zoro, Sanji ,Shanks,and Law) plz and thank you

hihi ty for being patient angel 🥰️ i def took some liberty w. this one, but i think i like how all of them turned out; you gave me a tall order but *clenches fist* i survived 💛💛💛 anyway, ty for requesting hope you like it :)

3.2k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; smut, some angst, fluff (wow i know), hurt/comfort; feat. luffy being a total menace, rayleigh being the dilf we all want, ace being mischievous as ever, zoro being a dumbass, sanji being overwhelmed, shanks being the absolute worst, and law trying to teach reader a lesson. also feat. cute stuff like: ass grabbing, rough (consensual sex), exhibitionism & public sex, lil bondage, jealousy, orgasm denial, some sof smut™ (who am i), oral (f receiving), fingering, oral (m receiving), idk other stuff probably. y/n has no self preservation ofc, these men are ridiculous (i love them). (if u see grammar/spelling mistakes no u didn't <3)

it isn’t your intention, but somehow you and your captain get separated from the group one afternoon while canvasing a new island. you normally don’t get lost, but luffy was teasing you all morning — pulling you aside for impromptu kisses, grabbing onto your hips from behind, his lips curled into a devilish smile against your neck with each kiss he left behind. luck was usually on your side during those instances, except it seems it’s suddenly run out.

“don’t give me that look,” you say as sternly as you can, eyes glancing around to see if any of your crew mates doubled back to look for you. luffy’s really to blame for you both getting lost, but he doesn’t want to admit that just yet; it’s more entertaining to tease you, because you’re cute when you’re annoyed. luffy wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you further away from the path you came from.

in between kisses, you remind him that you’re both pressed for time.

“don’t worry,” he says in a low voice, “it’ll be fine, probably.” you’d slap him if he wasn’t already kissing you again, tongue licking inside your mouth hotly; you arch against him, face flushed from the heat. his kisses remind you of summers and warm breezes; your mouth still tastes like the mangos you consumed with him earlier — sticky and sweet, a taste he’ll always covet.

you squeeze your thighs together when his hand roams lower and take a shuddering breath once he backs you against a thick tree. you hike a leg around his hip, holding him close to you, humming pleasantly when you feel the growing bulge in his shorts. being this close to him makes you impulsive and you know that all you have to do is rub against him once and he’ll fuck you against that tree. but your conscience wins out and you pull away, ducking out of his hold quickly, panting lightly as you touch your lips with the tips of your fingers.

“we need to get back to the others,” your voice is a bit too high when you say that. luffy laughs at your act and plants a wet kiss on your cheek; you bicker with him playfully on the walk back while holding his hand and lacing your fingers together with his.

“i don’t normally do this. i have to go.”

that’s what you said twenty minutes ago, after you’d gotten tipsy enough to have the courage to flirt with the older man sitting next to you. the pub was crowded and you only ever came by if you didn’t want to be recognized. rayleigh had a dangerously devilish charm, one that extracted information out of you with ease.

his voice is thick and rich, his words a pretty distraction — hypnotizing you as you find yourself nodding along to his impetuous plans. he hadn’t intended on sleeping with anyone tonight, but he couldn’t resist himself once he saw you sitting there by yourself, swaying on the bar stool while humming a nameless tune.

you seemed so content to be alone, it was admirable.

he had a bright smile and a laugh that came deep from the soul; you felt your body flush at the thought of kissing him suddenly. you blamed the alcohol for making you foolish, but you knew that wasn’t exactly true.

now you’re seated atop a sink in the upstairs bathroom, whimpering softly as you keep your legs spread for him. your skirt is hiked up, panties discarded somewhere — they were ruined once rayleigh whispered in your ear and suggested you carry on the conversation elsewhere; his hands were skilled, his mouth even more so.

he liked how pliable and supple your body was, how plush and soft your thighs were under his calloused hands. you shivered as he ran a finger along your slit, making you tremble as you keep as still as possible. rayleigh, you come to find, is experienced and passionate; you grow impossibly drunk from all his teasing — to the point that you’re panting and begging him to fuck you.

“all in good time.” his voice is gravelly when he nips at your exposed clavicle, cock hard and heavy; he knows he should hurry up, but something about you makes him want to take his time — so he can see all the frustrated expressions on your face. you pull him close and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking his length, rattling his nerves until he finally gives in.

he buries his cock to the hilt, hips pulling back and snapping forward roughly against you. letting out a breathy moan, you can feel just how slick your pussy is from your arousal. legs wrapped around him, you lean up to kiss along his jaw; he chuckles and indulges you, hands gripping your thighs, fingers likely to leave bruising marks behind from how tight he’s holding you. rayleigh fucks with you with fervor and selfishness that serves as a daunting reminder — that you’ll never find someone else like him after this.

“ace,” you pant as quietly as you can, but you’re struggling badly. the 2nd division commander has you in a back hallway on the ship early in the morning. he’s grinning like a fool, clearly entertained by your insistence on keeping quiet. he kisses you as he knocks his hips against yours, his cock sliding deeper inside your pussy; he holds you up against the wall as your legs stay wrapped around him.

you buck your hips against his, doing your best to match his thrusts, but his strokes are deadly and frenzied.

“wait, wait, ace slow down,” you whisper, sighing pleasantly when his cock reaches a sweet spot that has you clenching around him tightly.

“can’t,” he says in response, breath warm against your jaw, “stay. unless you want to get caught.” he gives you a meaningful look that’s accompanied with a smirk. you purse your lips but shake your head. it would be easier if you could stay mad at him, but he’s too cute and funny and attractive — plus, you like that he’s bold enough to fuck you in public without a care in the world. you hear voices off in the distance and panic, eyes widening as you look back at him.

but ace only winks and tells you to hold on tight.

as you bite down on the fleshy part of your palm to keep yourself from screaming, ace pummels his thick cock into your cunt mercilessly, balls slapping against you loudly. the sound is lewd and tantalizing; you find that you can barely keep up with his thrusts, but you do your best anyway.

apparently, he’s determined to make you cum before your crew mates catch you. and as much as he jokes that he wouldn’t care if someone saw you, a small wave of jealousy passes through him at the thought of anyone seeing you like this. he wants to finish up quickly so he can take you somewhere more private. it’s when he bites your neck roughly and pants against your skin that you cum unexpectedly, a blinding, white hot flash filling your vision as you forget yourself and scream his name.

the rain has yet to let up, not that it matters to you since you’re trapped in yet another argument with your thick-skulled boyfriend. you can’t even remember what triggered the argument in the first place, and because stuff like this makes you extra sensitive, you end up crying.

he sighs at the sight of your face flushing and eyes closing as you try to wipe away the tears, as if they were bothersome and unnecessary. guilt eats away at his chest, making it hard to swallow or breathe; he knows he should apologize, but he’s just so terrible at it. so, he does the one thing he knows how to do — apologize with his hands and mouth.

the mattress is soft beneath him as you straddle his hips and slowing sink onto his cock; you both shed your clothes some time ago, lips swollen from kissing him hungrily, an insatiable need seeping into your pores and making you greedy. you place kisses along the base of his throat, hips rocking forward as he thrusts into your cunt slowly. and while he’d love to just fuck you senseless — something quick and dirty — he knows that you’d appreciate his apology more if he took his time.

so, he does.

you sigh against his lips, fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the short strands. his chest is broad and firm, your nipples harden each time they rub against his light brown skin. slipping your tongue into his mouth, you cradle his face in your hands as he continues to give you broad, sensual strokes that have you whimpering in the most pathetic way against him. he likes you like this, though, and tells you as much when he presses a kiss along your jaw.

he finds forgiveness when you bounce on his cock a little harder, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs onto your ass to thrust into your pussy at a devastating pace. tears coat your eyelashes, but they primarily because zoro’s fucking you like he loves you. and maybe he does; you don’t want to think about that too much, because the intimacy behind it scares you.

jealousy, you think, looks good on him.

sanji rarely likes to show his true jealous side to you, it’s less playful and much more charged, possessive but you don’t mind that at all. earlier, zoro had offered to help train you and before you could turn him down — you’d seen firsthand just how brutal he is with his workouts — sanji was already up in arms over it. they argued for the entire afternoon, but by then you were already annoyed over the situation and dragged sanji off to calm him down.

his face is flushed when you kiss him suddenly and pull him into a broom closet without thinking too much about it. you can’t remember if you locked the door, but it doesn’t really matter. all you care about is wanting to give your silly boyfriend a little bit of attention.

your idea of giving attention is rubbing his half-hard cock through his pants, smiling slyly against his lips when you feel him shiver. in one fluid motion, you sink to your knees, fingers quickly unzipping his pants and tugging it lower. you pull his cock out and admire the shape of it, the slight curve always made your mouth water; before he can say anything, your tongue darts out and swipes at his slit, the pre-cum slightly salty in your mouth.

you make a big show of licking your lips, which only causes another flush to stain his cheeks. whenever you get like this, he has no choice but to follow your whims; he likes that about you, a lot. that you take charge and keep him grounded whenever his feelings get to be a bit too much for him to handle.

he opens his mouth to apologize, but you kiss his tip and he forgets all about it, mind short-circuiting momentarily, which gives you the opportunity to take him by surprise again.

“i don’t care that you’re jealous,” your voice is honeyed and sweet, wrapping itself around him comfortably, a lust-filled haze taking over his mind when you wrap your lips around him and suck. you run your tongue flat along his length, taking your time to lick all over before you take his cock into your mouth completely.

sanji’s breath slows and he does his best to not fuck your face, but then you’re massaging his balls and bobbing your head faster — so he does the most impractical thing and bucks his hips forward and thrusts his cock further down your throat. you gag around him, the pressure intense but welcomed; if he didn’t already know that you like it rough, he’d feel bad — and he still does, but he hasn’t voiced that out loud just yet. you don’t care though; truly, you don’t. you just want him to feel as relaxed as possible, but how can he relax when your mouth is warm and wet, when you’re looking at him tenderly, like you’d be on your knees for him every day if he asked you?

you let him have his way, and he doesn’t last very long, but you keep still, hold onto his thighs, nails sinking into his skin when his cock goes a little too deep. when he sees the tears roll down your cheeks, it ignites something in him and he cums in your mouth, your name a soft chant that tumbles out of his parted lips. he feels feverish and dizzy, but very much alive. you rub your thighs together as you swallow the thick load, smiling prettily at him, head tilted slightly while you boldly ask, “do you feel better now?”

he knows better than to piss you off, but he does it intentionally anyway. the captain of the red hair pirates loves pushing your buttons; he likes when you roll your eyes at him, when you pout cutely and demand he take you seriously; he likes when you don’t stop him when he kisses you openly, mouth possessively staking its claim against yours.

if you weren’t so used to his whims, you’d have the decency to act bashful.

you have a short temper that he’s been warned about time and time again; except, shanks doesn’t fucking listen — nor does he care.

so when he has you bent over one of the tables in the kitchen late one night after you both argued and drank and argued again, you have no choice but to forgive him. especially when he his thick cock is buried deep inside your pussy, his large hand pressing down on your lower back as you grip the sides of the table. your legs shake, but you know better than to complain right now. shanks fucks you hard, the wooden table scraping against the floor every time his hips knock roughly against yours.

“shanks, fuck,” you cry out, chest heaving as you try to keep your sanity intact. his chuckles annoy you, but he knows that you only pretend to act annoyed with him because you like the way he makes up with you. your ass bounces back against him, jiggling from the ferocity behind his thrusts.

“careful, doll,” he grabs your hip to power into you — his strokes turning you into a mumbling, delirious mess, “thought you didn’t want us to get caught.” he sounds so fucking pleased with himself, and you hate that your pussy is wet enough that you can take him without much prep. you blush at the thought of being caught and remind yourself to keep quiet.

“oh, don’t stop now on my account,” his voice lowers substantially, you crane your neck to hear him better, and you just know without having to look at him that he’s got a pleased smile on his face. that man works every nerve in your body, but you like him too much to leave him properly.

you press your lips together to stifle another moan, but then shanks keeps his hips close to yours and gives you short, rough thrusts that you struggle to keep up with. with your back arched, you make for a pretty sight; he knows he should finish quickly, but he likes watching you hold onto the edge of the table like it’s your only lifeline. you don’t even have time to process the orgasm that passes through you because it happens so suddenly.

he teases you mercilessly and without remorse, but you take it; you take the rest of his frenetic thrusts, take the way he slides his hand underneath you to rub your clit. your body is much too sensitive, and when you moan his name like that, it flips a switch in him. you doubt you’ll be able to walk properly after this, but you’re not too worried about that; shanks bullies his cock in and out of your needy hole until he’s satisfied, successfully wrenching another orgasm out of you that makes you slump over the table weakly.

“don’t tell me you’re all done,” he presses a kiss on the side of your neck, lazily grinding against you, every bit as greedy as he always is. you can barely stand, but you feel alive in the best sort of way, already forgetting that you were mad at him in the first place.

you knew better and you still didn’t listen.

the restraints around your wrists dig into your skin a bit, but they don’t hurt that much; you squirm around on the bed, not liking that you can’t touch yourself or him. but he told you earlier to behave and you still chose to ignore his warning.

now you’re paying for it.

although, you wouldn’t exactly call this sort of thing a punishment.

law’s mouth latches onto a patch of skin on your inner thigh, teeth and mouth leaving behind marks that serve as little reminders for later. you whimper softly, but he pays you no mind, instead moving to the other thigh, tongue running along your skin. you buck your hips forward to get him to touch you properly, but all he does is click his tongue at you in faux-disappointment.

“seems like you still need to learn,” he says sharply, his eyes a dark amber, the look he gives you is equal parts fierce and mesmerizing. you want to kiss him, to run your hands down his chest, but he won’t let you and you’re upset about it.

when it looks like you’re about to say something that’ll piss him off, he stuffs your panties inside of your mouth to keep you quiet. your pleas are muffled but he pulls your hips close, mouth brushing along your slit, making you tremble with need.

he knows he should probably ease up, but if he doesn’t teach you now, then you’ll keep the same bad habits and he can’t have that, now, can he? you’re nearly in tears when he finally flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit, hips jerking forward when he swirls his tongue around. you can feel your saliva dampen your panties. you close your eyes briefly, ecstasy filling every part of your body when he stops and says, “keep your eyes on me.”

you want to tell him that it’s damn near impossible, but you try to follow his instruction anyway.

law eats you out with purpose and vigor, his mouth a sinful delight as he french-kisses your pussy without restraint. he teased you for so long that your nipples ache from being hard and untouched. you could kill him for that. and law is smug in his own way, enjoying you at his leisure, slurping and licking your pussy with fervor.

you thrash against him and he holds you steady; you can barely keep your eyes open and you feel like you’re having an out of body experience when he glides his lithe fingers inside your cunt. law fingerfucks you lazily, sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite piece of candy. when you cum, your moans are strangled and garbled, vision blurring as you ride his mouth shamelessly, a sharp pain on your wrists from the way you keep tugging fruitlessly.

he could let up but won’t, taking pleasure in watching you fall apart for him; you tell yourself that once you’ve calmed down, you’ll just have to pay him back in kind later when he least expects it.

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rodolfoparras · 1 year

Text

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

#captain John price #captain John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #Alec writes #happy pride month to my absolute favorite way of being close with another man #I apologize for any mistakes #idk man I make this so hard for me by using this writing style #it’s like future and past and present tense all at once I hate it djdjdj #anyway #I hope it’s okay #army shabang is probes not accurate but none of this is real so let’s kiss #my goal here was to showcase how such a simple act can be so intimate I hope i managed to do so #since this is sort of a love language to me #and first fluff on here #wooo #weird to say that since I have always written fluff fics believe it or not

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theostrophywife · 1 year

Note

can we please get some rhys fluff?

daylight.

i don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you i don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you i've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night and now I see daylight

author's note: i'm such a simp for rhys it's not even funny. just think about cuddling a soft, sleepy rhys after a night out and tell me you don't want to scream into the void. song inspiration: daylight by taylor swift.

The moon’s glow kissed your mate’s sleeping form with its silver light and enveloped Rhysand in glorious night.

You paused in the doorway, heels in your hand as you admired the High Lord with a small smile. It was nearly dawn when you finally stumbled out of Rita’s from your monthly girl’s night out. You thanked the Mother for giving you the ability to winnow because you sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to survive the ten minute walk home. Especially not in the tiny little dress and ridiculously high heels that Mor had talked you into wearing.

Regardless, it had been a fun outing. But as the bruised violet skies made way for spears of sunlight, you were more than glad to be home.

You padded softly across the wooden floor and slipped into bed as quietly as you could, trying your best not to wake your sleeping mate. Rhys was all but dead to the world, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Propping your head up on one arm, you took the opportunity to admire him in all his glory.

When he was awake, Rhysand was all seductive smiles and sultry gazes and while you certainly appreciated the sensuality that seemed to pour out of him with effortless grace, you’d come to love this softer side of him even more. There was something about these unguarded moments when he was sprawled across the bed, his large body nearly taking up half the mattress as he laid on his stomach, those dark lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, his soft lips slightly parted, raven hair sticking up in different directions as he cuddled against the pillow, his body half-turned to where you usually lay as if he'd sought you out even in his sleep, that made your heart absolutely ache.

It had taken a long time for Rhys to allow himself to be vulnerable like this. When you were first mated, he was often plagued by nightmares, so much so that he rarely slept and spent the night staring at the ceiling. You’d woken up countless times to find him observing you, his fingers tracing mindless patterns on your skin, to remind himself that he was here, he survived, and he had fought for this life with you. You remembered taking him into your arms and holding him, whispering that this was real. That it was safe to sleep because you’d still be there in the morning.

Night after night, you chased away those dark memories together. The nightmares came fewer and farther in between and now Rhysand could sleep through the night without even waking. Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to caress his cheek. You were so proud of him.

This brilliant, selfless, resilient male that you were lucky enough to call your mate. Your heart squeezed in your chest and the emotions poured out of you in waves. You loved him so much that it was impossible to contain. That devotion rippled through your bond and made that connection sparkle in your soul.

Rhysand’s lashes fluttered, skimming the tops of his cheeks as he sleepily blinked up at you. Those violet eyes greeted you like the starkissed night and a slow grin crept across his handsome face. Wordlessly, he tugged you towards him.

You chuckled as Rhys cuddled against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply.

“Did you have fun?” he murmured sleepily. His body was warm as he pressed you against him, his arm snaking possessively around your waist.

“I did,” you confirmed, twining your fingers through his silky locks. “But I think I owe Rita a new chandelier.” Rhys raised a brow in response, waiting for an explanation. “It’s a long story.”

Your mate only chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I might be willing to risk Mor’s wrath and steal you from your friends the next time they try to take my mate away from me.”

“I was only gone for a few hours.”

Rhys pouted, his lips brushing against your neck. “It was a few hours too many,” he said as he tangled your legs together. “I missed you, darling.”

“My needy, clingy mate,” you teased, poking his nose. Rhys responded by digging his fingers into your side, causing you to giggle uncontrollably. You swatted his hand away and stuck out your tongue. “I missed you too, Rhys.”

Just as daylight streamed in through the windows, Rhysand smiled. A full, bright smile that put the rising sun to shame.

“I’m here,” you whispered. You hadn’t said the words in a long time. Not since the nightmares stopped. But with the dawn of a new day, you felt like it was important to remind Rhys how far he’d come.

How far you've both come.

You weren't just mates. Rhys was your friend, your lover, your anchor to reality when the world fell into chaos. He was the other half of your soul. Your love for each other was a story written in the stars.

Violet eyes filled with emotion as you held him against you. “You’re here,” he repeated.

“This is real.”

Rhys caressed your cheek, anchoring himself to the present. “This is real.”

“And we made it, against all odds." You fought and clawed and bled your way to this moment. Just so you could find each other. You would've done it all over again for your mate. "We made it.”

“We made it, darling.”

Your mate kissed your forehead, the gesture soft and intimate. He opened up the bond and let his emotions spill out over the connection. Rhysand felt cared for and loved. That warm light grew in your heart, twining your very existence with his. All of that love and devotion washed over you like a flood as Rhys let you in. In your arms, your mate knew that he was safe and sound. You held back the tears as you pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Rhys.”

“I love you, darling.”

#I ONCE BELIEVED LOVE WOULD BE BLACK AND WHITE BUT ITS GOLDEN LIKE DAYLIGHT #i am sorry for screaming but i cannot be normal about this #rhys #rhys acotar #rhys fluff #rhysand #rhysand fluff #rhys fic #rhysand fic #rhys x reader #rhys x you

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mareagirls · 1 year

Note

Hi! If you’re ever in the mood to write a sickfic I like this idea.

Peter and reader are on a date, but reader feels nauseous. But, reader doesn’t want to tell Peter because a: they’ve both been super busy lately between Spider-Man duties and college and/or work and b: because even if reader won’t admit it, being vulnerable and being taken care of kind of scares them. But Peter finds out/figured it out and wants to help and fluff ensues.

Anyway, it’s just an idea. No pressure to complete (obvi)! Hope you’re doing well and drinking water! <3

~🥧

hey pie anon! i hope this is okay and i'm sorry it's months late! I forgot it was in my drafts :')

You realise something is wrong when you’re only a quarter of the way through your pizza and Peter is over half way through his.

You feel sick. Or at the very least least like you might be - nausea brewing uncomfortably in your stomach as you take small bites of your food.

Your boyfriend chats away opposite you, blissfully unaware that you've started to feel queasy, so you plaster a smile on your face and swallow hard. The two of you have been incredibly busy for the past few days between your work and his vigilante duties, and the last thing you want to do is ruin the first peaceful moment you’ve had together. You can tell how much Peter has needed a little normalcy. The thought of ruining it because you’re feeling a little off feels incredibly selfish.

Beyond that, you're not used to letting people take care of you, and though Peter has told you countless times that he likes doing it, you can never quite dislodge uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability that blooms in you whenever he does. Letting yourself be loved, allowing Peter to look after you when you're not feeling too well - they're processes. You've been trying to work on them for a while, but it's difficult. It always has been.

You’re just trying to rub at your chest discreetly when Peter looks up at you from his almost empty plate.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes! Yeah, everything is fine." Your reply comes out wobbly and you only realise afterwards that you’ve made too much of an effort to sound alright. You smile at Peter through gritted teeth and try foolishly to convince yourself that if you pretend the nausea doesn't exist, it'll go.

Peter doesn’t look like he believes you for a second.

"Are you sure? Do you not like your pizza?" He pushes his own plate towards you as if it's the easiest thing ever, offering you his last two slices. "Here, baby. We can swap."

The tender easiness in the gesture very nearly makes you want to cry. Peter Parker might just be the loveliest boy you’ve ever known.

"No, Peter it's okay. My pizza is good,” your hands shifts slightly to rub against your abdomen, Peter tracks your movements cautiously. “I'm just kinda full I think.”

Your boy raises an eyebrow at your barely eaten pizza but nods, never one to push you for explanations.

"I'll ask for the bill and a box to take the rest home. We can have the ice cream in the freezer when we get back. How's that sound?"

The thought of ice cream makes you feel queasy, but Peter seems so hopeful and he's looked so tired and sad in the past few days that you cant help but indulge him.

Once you’ve gotten the bill and packed your leftover pizza into a takeaway box, Peter takes your hand in his and guides you out of the restaurant.

New York City in the evening is a sensory nightmare, but your nausea does abate slightly thanks to the fresh air. You catch Peter looking down at you and stamp an awkward smile on your face.

"Home?" He squeezes your fingers gently.

Your stomach churns at the thought of having to go so far, but Peter is looking at you like you've hung the moon and the stars - the journey home feels a little more bearable with him by your side.

"Yes please."

"You okay to walk?"

"I'm fine, Peter. I promise."

"No, you're not, baby. And that's okay, you don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don’t want to. Just let me take care of you."

You sigh, resigned. You don't even know why you tried to hide it from him. Peter can quite literally hear your heartbeat, of course he was going to clock that you're not feeling too well.

Peter keeps his body angled towards yours as the two of you walk, and you soon realise that he's shielding you the best he can from the light around you and all the bodies rushing past. It's a small gesture, one that he might not even realise he's doing, but makes your chest flutter pleasantly

Then, just as you think that maybe the nausea is easing up, another wave of discomfort overwhelms you and you stumble.

Fortunately Peter catches your wrist just before you can do any real damage, balancing your pizza box in his free hand. He helps you back up easily, his fingers a warm pressure on your skin.

"Woah. Hey, hey, sweetheart. Let's just stop for a second, hm?"

You are mortified, and very sorry about how inconvenient you're being but when Peter pulls you to a stop, you oblige. Tears swarming in your eyes, you make one last ditch attempt at snuffing out the discomfort by pushing your face into the soft sweatshirt your boyfriend is wearing.

You feel him go still and for one horrible millisecond, you think he's going to push you away, but then Peter’s body relaxes and he presses you against him softly, almost as if he's afraid to hurt you.

You mumble into his chest. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologise," his lips are soft against the crown of your head. "You're good. Let's take a moment, alright?"

You nod, sniffing slightly.

"We're nearly there. Just a few more blocks to go."

Something like a whine gets stuck in your throat and Peter coos gently, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “I know. You’re alright, honey. I've got you.”

You straighten up after a few seconds, aware that this is not at all what he signed up for when the two of you left the house, and Peter frowns a little.

"You can lean into me, baby. You're not a bother."

And you do know, because he's said it to you countless times before in different variations. I like being there for you. You don't have to apologise. I'm here for you, it's kinda in the boyfriend job description.

Peter doesn’t have to repeat himself. When he nudges you closer, you lean in.

Once you’re at home, Peter lets go of you carefully, never taking his eyes off you as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pull out the keys to let you both in.

He places the pizza box on the microwave in the kitchen before following you through down the corridor, a hand ghosting the small of your back. When you reach the bedroom, he dims the lights.

You sit on the bed gingerly. Peter sits next to you.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asks.

You’re quiet for a while. Then, a small admission;

"I feel really nauseous Peter." You avoid his gaze. "It started in the restaurant. I don't... I don't know what's wrong."

Peter is silent for a beat. You take it as a sign that you've said something wrong.

"It's fine though. I'm sorry for ruining the meal. I know you were looking forward to this." your voice is hoarse. "I’m really sorry."

When you muster the courage to look up at him, Peter looks horrified.

"Baby, what are you talking about? You didn't ruin anything. It's okay." His hand comes up to brush at your jawline. "I got to spend time with my best girl. I feel like the luckiest guy alive."

You think he might be exaggerating just to make you smile, but there's real sincerity in his tone. "Do you want pain relief? Some ginger tea, maybe?"

Right now, you only want Peter.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit, please?"

"Oh, my girl." Peter is already pulling you down so that you're lying against his chest. "C'mere."

#peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #fic recs #mareagirls musings #tasm x reader #peter parker one shot #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter parker x you #my works! 💌#i cannot believe i have finished writing something 😭#it’s been MONTHS #i’m so rusty

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harryforvogue · 5 months

Text

i wrote something. it has nothing to do with my existing characters, but i had fun writing it and i need different things to write here and there or else i go insane. i don't think it's coherent but here you go! <3

(no OC named, just used she/her pronouns)

***

Christmas Eve, 1947

She doesn’t understand why people accept invitations if they’re just going to stand in a corner and brood. The purpose of parties is to socialize, to flirt, to have fun. Nothing good comes from avoiding people like the plague. At that point, why even bother showing?

Although, it’s hard to be angry when the man doing the avoiding is someone she's had a crush on for a very long time.

Harry stands close to the window by the Christmas tree in the living room, staring almost angrily at his whisky. He throws his head back to finish it off, and then sighs deeply, turning his head to stare out the window. It’s been steadily snowing for a few hours now. Perhaps he’s regretting ever coming to such a bland party, or perhaps wondering how badly he’d injure himself if he flung his body out onto the white snow. Judging by the look of his face reflecting on the window, she thinks he must be the most miserable person there.

Her friend has gone all out for the party though. Brought out her most expensive gramophone to play delightful Christmas music and passed around drinks. At first, the population of people in the living room were shy. The men on one side, the women on the other. But after one daring man crossed over to speak to one of them, the night officially began.

However, Harry remains far from the mingling people. His eyes are downcast, his index finger running over the rim of the glass. He's in his own dark thoughts.

Apparently her staring has been noticed by several of her friends who have prodded her, urging her to go speak with him. ("Come on. don't be scared." "Don't be a baby." "Maybe he'll kiss even you." "Maybe you can replace his old lover." "Maybe someone will finally show interest in you." -- The last one particularly hurts but it's just friendly banter, isn't it?) They bother her for nearly half an hour before she decides it's a decent opportunity. She gives in.

Stealing a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen, she slips into the sea of people and manages to come out unscathed at the other side. Her heart hammers in her chest, but with a few quick breaths, she reminds herself that all she’s doing is pouring the man a drink. There’s absolutely no harm in that.

She stops before him, awkwardly stepping past the tree. His head turns towards her and with a single look, her heart is thundering again.

“Hi,” she says, holding up the bottle. “Can I get you another drink?”

Up close, Harry is devastatingly beautiful. She loves the crease between his eyebrows, the slight pout of his mouth, his strong brows, and his firm jaw. He towers over her by half a foot, standing in his evening suit, one hand in his pocket. Up until this point, she’s only ever seen him from afar. This close, she’s struck by his handsomeness, despite the signs of annoyance.

She recalls the first time she’d seen him a number of years ago. He’d been casually dating another woman, and he’d taken her dancing at the same country club that she’d been at with her own date. They’d snagged eyes only once during the night, but since then, he’s been all she can think about.

When she’s lucky enough to see him in public or at these parties, she tries to convince herself to talk to him. She’s never been able to until now. Her friends ridicule her for it, but she simply does not have the confidence.

Tonight is different, however.

Harry’s attractiveness isn’t visible to only her of course. He’s been known to date often. But now, there’s another reason why people don’t speak with him.

She heard from a friend who heard from another friend who heard from her cousin that Harry’s sudden disdain for people comes after his wife died while they vacationed together in Milan. He’d left London for Italy just six months ago, and they say that all his letters told them how happy he was. How he loved the new country and its weather and how would live there forever with his new bride. She went by the name of Alessia. Or maybe it was Cecilia.

And then she died. Caught a disease of some kind.

Her friends have gossiped extensively about it.

“I wouldn’t ever get involved with a man in mourning,” one friend said.

“It’s absolutely profane,” another said.

"But maybe you'll have some luck," a third said. "You always seem to get the weird ones attached to you."

(This is true given her horrible dating history, but the jab isn't very nice even if it's from a friend.)

Harry looks at the bottle in her hand and then nods, pushing his glass out. She pours in the liquid.

“Are you enjoying the party?” she asks him.

Harry takes a sip and then says, “Yes.”

“I’m sure you know everybody here, right? You’ve lived in London your whole life, I imagine.”

“I know enough of them.”

She tries to pose it as a humorous observation. “And yet I haven’t seen you talk to anyone since you’ve been here. And I haven’t seen you dance with anyone at any party. I find that you and I are invited to similar gatherings. Maybe we have mutual friends?”

Harry looks at her for some time without answering.

“Maybe,” he finally says, and then finishes his whiskey.

His eyes flicker to glance at something behind her. His brows pull together some more.

She tells him her name. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you want to move to another comfortable place? I can give you a tour of the house, if you’d like, or maybe–”

“I’d rather not.”

"Oh. Then another drink?"

"No more," he says icily.

Her heart stops. “Oh. Right, sorry.”

He puts his glass on the window sill and tucks his other hand into his pocket. “Is this amusing to you?”

She blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Getting me to talk to you. Don’t be coy. It must be so fun to mess with me.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can see all your girlfriends behind you. From the look on their faces, they’re having more fun than you right about now.” He shrugs a shoulder. His eyes are suddenly darker, the twist of his mouth making her hands clammy. “You got a laugh out of them. Are you proud of yourself?"

She whips her head to look at her friends who are indeed laughing. To her horror, it seems like they’re laughing at him.

“No,” she says, turning back to Harry. “They didn’t send me here. We’re not–”

“Just leave.” He says her name, but it’s so cold, she feels it stabbing into her ribs.

“No! No, it wasn’t– I didn’t tell them I was coming to talk to you.”

“It must be hilarious.”

“They didn’t put me up to it. I wanted to talk to you!”

Harry raises a mocking eyebrow. “And what could you have to say to me?”

She feels flushed, suddenly put on the spot. All she was prepared for was pouring him a drink. But now he looks at her like he really dislikes her and it’s all too much. And so she blurts, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

Harry’s gaze instantly hardens. “My wife?”

“I thought that you weren’t feeling well because of it so I wanted to make you feel more welcomed. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable and nobody put me up to it, I swear. I wanted to offer my condolences and I say that I didn’t think it was fair for people to treat you weird, okay? That’s all.”

She holds the bottle of whiskey close to her chest, mentally swearing at herself. With a final apology, she goes to leave, but Harry suddenly holds his arm out to block her from leaving.

He has a funny look on his face. “Condolences? For what?”

Her dress is way too tight right now. Her head is spinning.

“For your wife passing away, of course.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “My wife is alive and well.”

And that’s supposed to make her feel better, but now she feels even more foolish. She squeezes her eyes shut and swears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it must have been a rumor. I’ll– I need to leave, I’m sorry. I'm so so--”

He doesn’t move his arm though. “Is that what’s happening? All these people don’t know how to talk to a man with an, apparently, dead wife?”

And then he does the strangest thing. He laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, but it’s soft and there.

“Why do people think my wife is dead?” he asks.

“I didn't know. I should really go. I’m sorry–”

“No,” he says, holding her elbow now. It’s gentle, but firm. “Do you know who started this rumor?”

“Er, no.”

“I don’t think it's me that your friends are playing a joke on.”

Tears burn in her eyes. “Yes, I realize that now.”

He releases her elbow then, and runs a hand through his hair. “My wife is not dead. She didn’t return with me from Italy, but that doesn’t mean she’s no longer alive.”

“Right, of course.” She ducks under his arm. “Goodbye now.” And then rushes away. Her ears burn with anger and embarrassment. She thinks she hears him calling her name, but she continues to leave the scene. She most definitely hears the rest of her friends laughing.

***

It turns out that hiding in a room for the duration of a party is a lot harder than it seems. Two hours later, she calmed down enough to want to leave the party. She fixes her dress, the bow at the collar, and the gold pins in her hair. She can't do anything about her red rimmed eyes though.

She’ll have to run out of the house because there are still too many people there. She swings her door open and starts to move, but crashes into something hard instead. She nearly falls onto the floor, rubbing her head with a soft swear.

Harry stands before her, looking down with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

She hastily fixes her hair. “I'm fine.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

“I was looking for you. I thought you left earlier.”

“I’m leaving now.”

She goes to move around him, but he grabs her hand. “Wait. I need to apologize. I didn’t handle that well at all.”

“Nothing you need to apologize for.” She tugs at her hand in his grasp. “I really need to go home.”

“I shouldn’t have just accused you of being part of something you weren’t. That was very wrong of me.”

“It’s fine. I’m just going to–”

“They’re not your friends. You should never trust–”

She doesn't need that reminder. A sudden spike of laughter from downstairs rings in her ears. “I get it. I do. Now please move.”

He blocks her way again.

“My wife isn’t dead. She’s not here and we’re no longer together, but she’s not dead and I’m sorry your friends did that to you. Listen, hey. I think it’s very nice of you to have come up to me to make me feel better. Really. It’s very kind. And if you’re leaving, I’d love it if you let me walk you home.”

She frowns deeply, looking up at him. “That’s not necessary.”

“I feel terribly guilty for adding onto the torture unknowingly.”

“You didn’t put them up to it.”

“No, but the way I spoke to you was wrong. Please let me walk you home.”

His eyes are earnest, his hair unraveling and falling into his eyes. He releases her hand and waits patiently for her answer.

She wasn’t planning on going home tonight. She’d asked her friend if she could stay over in case the blizzard worsened, but since she’d rather not stay, she doesn’t really have a choice but to leave. The cabs won’t even be running at this time.

“I live far,” she says. “You don’t have to do this, Harry.”

“But I want to. Also,” he shrugs and offers her a sudden charming smile. “I’m a gentleman, though I didn't act like one and I need to make it up to you. I don’t want you to walk home alone.” He turns and holds his arm out. “Come. You can wear my coat.”

She looks at him for a moment, and, afterwards, his arm.

Then, she steps forward and takes it, nodding once. “Okay.”

“Good.”

***

Outside, the snow is almost up to their calves. She’s shivering despite Harry’s coat around her shoulders and his arm around her waist. The only thing that keeps her from falling onto her face on the asphalt is their conversation.

Currently, Harry’s talking about how he was exempt from war as a medical assistant. Now, he’s opening up his own practice in London with his brothers. Family medicine in every way, he calls it. When asked what else he would do if he weren’t a doctor, he says he’d be a professor.

Harry is impressed by her own resume. A published writer. His eyes are bright when she tells him she’ll give him a copy of her book free of charge next time she sees him.

Through chattering teeth, she asks, “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you are no longer with your wife?”

The weird twist of his mouth suddenly returns. She regrets asking.

“We’re in the process of separation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“But still.”

They don’t say anything else about that matter.

By the time they’re home, Harry’s holding her hand and she’s all but running to her front porch.

“Would you like to come inside?” she whispers, her fingers trembling as she unlocks the door. “I could make you a hot cider before you leave?”

“I believe your family would mind."

“They’re not home. Off at their own Christmas party.”

"So you'll be home alone?"

The question excites her, but his concerned look tells her he's actually worried about her safety, not the possibility of them being alone together.

"Yes. For the night." It can't hurt to tempt him.

Harry looks conflicted. Under the grey sky and falling snowflakes, he looks near angelic. With a swipe of his hand, he removes the from his face. “No, I don’t think that would be right. But.” He steps closer. “If it’s all right. I’d like to see you again.”

Her heart jumps to life. “Would you?”

“Yes. Can we make it happen?”

Her fingers tremble for a different reason now. “Yes. I'd like that.”

“Good. This Saturday?”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“How’s dinner sound?”

“Wonderful.”

He laughs. “Good. I look forward to it. And bring me that book, yeah?"

"And you don't mind that it's a boring old romance?"

Harry smiles. "I've been looking to expand my tastes, miss." He then ducks his head in a small bow. "Goodnight, then.”

He waits a beat longer and then then turns, carefully walking back down the steps. He lingers by the sidewalk until she’s safely in her home and then puts his jacket back on.

She locks the door, slides down onto the floor and screeches excitedly into her frozen hands.

#would you believe me if i said this is inspired by sylvia plath #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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