#ty for the ask!!! i’m actually working on this piece as we speak and hope to get it done quick and fast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sslow-dancer · 3 years

Note

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

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“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

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You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

167 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

***

The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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feral-dumbass · 3 years

Text

F*ck Me

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Reader

Summary: Bucky loses a bet and has to wear a maid dress. Neither of you expected you to be so into Bucky wearing it.

Includes: Bucky in a maid costume, Knife kink, ripping of clothes, Bondage, unprotected sex, brief mention of Bucky being turned on by glasses, Beefy!Bucky, use of vibrator (sharing of it too), manhandling, overstimulation (Possible dub-con because of it), dirty talk, unprotected sex, size kink, choking (with the metal arm)

Words: 4,103

A/N: Happy New Year! I finally actually finished a WIP. Bucky does wear a maid dress, so if you know me in real life, no you don’t. I just wrote a crack fic. Didn’t I? Title Credit to Vernon Jane. Tagging my friends @babybluestan @gagmebucky @heresyoursnackdumbass

Masterlist

It started off with a bet. Who could beat Thor at armwrestling? Cocky egos and bored minds don’t mix well. Quill and Steve both lost. Most men that weren’t gifted with super strength didn’t need that question answered. Bucky decided to join in on the camaraderie. Besides, if Steve lectures Bucky team bonding one more time, he’s gonna lose it.

Everything was fine until Tony couldn’t stop talking. Out on a personal vendetta ever since you and Bucky took Stark’s Audi out for joyride and put the most miniscule dent on the hood, Tony suggested more than money. If Bucky lost, he’d have to follow Thor around in a maid’s costume at the next compound party with the team and vice versa. Thor and Bucky were already sitting across from each other at the table when Tony announced it. It was too late to back out now. With Clint cheering on the statement and Steve starting to mother hen, Bucky said fuck it. Thor even let him use his bionic fucking metal arm. How bad could it be?

Bucky was wrong. Bucky was so very wrong. Never make a bet about strength with a God. The gears and plates of his arm buzzed from the tension underneath the sound of the men choosing their sides and cheering them on. Even though Bucky put up a good fight, he lost and probably needs to kiss Tony’s ass to make sure the processors are still functioning. Thor has a good grip.

The package arrived at your doorstep Thursday, just in time for the party on Friday. You were the one to place it on the kitchen table. You were sympathetic to Bucky’s predicament after a good laugh. The offending package sat there for the next twenty-four hours, Bucky avoiding it like the plague. It’s not that Bucky hates it per say, it’s just a clothing item for fuck’s sake. He just hates the fact he’ll never hear the end of it.

He expresses the same fact exactly to you as he tears open the package in the bathroom. He tries on the maid dress while you wait patiently for him on the bed. Bucky manages to zip himself and stare at himself in the mirror. Bucky sighs at the sight. For a genius, Stark is really bad at guessing sizes. Bucky is practically busting at the seams. “Damnit.”

“Aww. C’mon out, Bucky. I’m sure it’s not-” You try to assuage Bucky as your eyes never leave the latest gossip magazine of the Avengers. At the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, you look up. Momentarily stunned, you forget your words. Magazine long forgotten. “Oh- oh my god.”

“I know. This feels indecent.” Bucky crosses his arms underneath his chest and your mouth waters.

“No, Bucky, not in that way.” You didn’t expect Bucky to look this good in frilly black and white. The bands of the poofy sleeves strain against his bulging biceps. The bust also straining against his pecs. The dress is so short the bottom of Bucky’s black boxers peak out. Not to mention, Bucky has his emotional support knife strapped to his thigh. You wish you could be surprised you’d fuck him like this, but then again, he is Bucky Barnes. “It’s not that bad.” You slur your words a bit, still focused on the band stressed around Bucky’s biceps. You lick your lips and suck the bottom one in between your teeth.

“Wait, is this actually working for you?” Bucky ducks down so you’re forced to look him in the eyes. No point in beating around the bush. Act coy and you might never get to see him like this again.

“Would you judge me if I said yes?”

“A little bit. Yeah.” You shrug. It’s not like the nerd hasn’t asked you to wear glasses while you give him head. Different strokes for different folks.

“Would you wear it in bed?”

Bucky lets out a surprised laugh and shakes his head. “Keep looking at me like you wanna eat me alive and I’ll wear anything for you.” He strides over to you, pulls your hair so you look up at him, and kisses you with blazing passion. This is fine. You’re more than happy to give Bucky a few minutes of happiness before he spends the whole night brooding. Bucky barely separates from you. “We can skip the party and I’ll wear it in bed for you right now?” His lips brush against yours as you stare at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“Stark will probably conduct a man hunt and it’s probably best no one see what I have in store for you.”

“Please, do share your plans.”

“I was thinking we could bring out the nylon ropes. I tie you to the headboard and have my way with you.” Even with his hair half up in bun, pieces of his hair fell out. You tuck a brown piece of his hair behind his ear as he swallows thickly and groans.

“Are you sure we have to go?” You nod as a grin slowly spreads across your face. “Give me ten minutes before we go to my personal hell.” Bucky walks back into the bathroom, trying to fix the growing bulge in his boxers.

The party is going surprisingly well, Bucky being less broody than usual. Turns out when you’re girlfriend promises to ride you into the mattress, your mood lightens. Bucky’s smirk has been laced with secrecy all night. It probably doesn’t help that you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off him, flashing him fuck me eyes everytime he caught you. By the fifth time Bucky caught your eye, Tony had enough.

“Oh my god, you guys look like your two seconds away from fucking eachother in front of us.” Tony complains.

Bucky shrugs in all his maid dress glory. “I wouldn’t mind.” Bucky looks to you for confirmation.

“Uh, hey, no. This isn’t fun anymore. It’s getting weird. You lost your party privilege. Leave before I order both of you a psych eval on Monday.” Tony pretends like Pepper hasn’t told you things three margaritas in. Fine, he can act all pure and mighty all he wants. You’re forced with the knowledge Tony is a good submissive for Pepper.

“Thank God.” Bucky is ushering you to the elevators before you can say something witty back to Stark. Once in the elevator, Bucky incessantly presses the door closing button.

“Pressing the button ten times doesn’t make the elevator work faster.” The elevator hates you and starts closing as you speak.

“You were saying?” Bucky backs you up against the elevator and ducks down to kiss you which eventually turns into making out. He lifts you up by the back of your thighs as he deepens the kiss. He moves his kisses down to your neck, sucking hickeys into your skin in between kisses. Pressed in between the wall and Bucky, you’re forced to feel all of him, rutting his quickly hardening bulge into you. You’re like 99% sure Bucky is ready to fuck you in the elevator. Security cameras be damned. It wouldn’t be the wildest place you had sex and you’re about ready to help drop your pants until you remember your plans. You rake your hands through his hair, grab a nice hindfull, and pull, taking his lips off your skin.

“Bucky.” You whine with a pout of your lips. His eyes track the movement of your spit-shined lips, too entranced to look you in the eyes just yet. “You agreed to let me tie you up and I’m holding you to it.” The elevator dings with the arrival of your floor.

Bucky smashes his lips against yours for a quick kiss. After he separates, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I spoil you.” It’s his only response before he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

Managing to make-out with you and kick the bedroom door open, Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed. Your legs are forced to spread wider to accommodate his thick thighs, the knife strapped to him digging into your inner own.

“You’re wearing too much clothes.” Bucky tugs on your shirt.

“Maybe you should help me with that.” Before you can finish your sentence, Bucky is pulling your shirt up. You finish pulling it over your head, flinging it onto the bedroom floor, as Bucky works on unfastening your jeans. Bucky pauses his task at the sight of bare skin. He groans deep within his chest. So maybe you wore Bucky’s favorite lingerie set, navy blue and semi opaque. You’re even wearing slutty panties to match. You were hoping to get railed tonight even before the maid dress was introduced into your life.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous.” His hands travel to your breasts kneading them through the flimsy material. Goosebumps break out underneath Bucky’s calloused touch. His stubble scratches as he kisses the swell of each breast before gently dragging his hands back down to your pants. You duck down to kiss him as he snakes his hand into the back of your pants, squeezing handfuls of ass. “Well, are you ready to be in charge, baby?”

“Please.” You push Bucky on his back and hop off his lap. You slide a chest out from underneath the bed and get out a couple objects of interest including the nylon rope. Bucky moves to the center of the bed as you take off your pants. You crawl onto the bed and Bucky. He meets you halfway for a kiss, his hand on the back of your head.

“Did ya wear all this just to torment me? Knowing I won’t be able to touch you is driving me crazy.”

“I will admit I didn’t wear this with bondage in mind. You ripping my underwear off with your teeth is more of what I was thinking, but I’m flexible.”

Bucky’s chest rumbled. “I’m aware.” With darkening eyes, Bucky lets you maneuver his arms up to the bedpost and tie him to it. Of course, it helps he has a perfect view of your cleavage dangling just a few inches from his face. Once you’re done tying him up, you kiss his cheek.

“Remember your colors, baby boy?” You ask him in between kisses on his neck, nipping at the skin. It’s a line Bucky has used on you so many times and now it’s your turn to use. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your color? These too tight?” You tug on the binds wrapped around.

“So fucking green. They’re not too tight. Although, I’d be a lot better if you were on my cock right now.” You suck a hickey into his neck.

“It’s cute you think you’re still calling the shots.” You grind down onto him, your eyes fluttering at the feel of the sweet friction, but Bucky doesn’t need to know that. You blow on the hickey and Bucky shudders underneath you. You sit up to admire your handiwork. His eyes are lust-filled. A hint of a rosy flush decorates his cheeks and chest. Bucky’s arms flex at your incessant grinding.

“Please, wanna be in you.” He ruts his hips up, adding more friction. You bump into the handle of his knife, reminding you it’s there. You reach behind you and unsheathe the knife. Bucky’s knife glints as you take note of it.

“Tell me, Bucky. Are you invested in your outfit?”

“Oh my god, please. Destroy it.” He stares up at you with such awestruck devotion. You lift up the skirt and cut through the torso of the dress. Bucky lets out an whorish moan even for him. His chest and abs out on open display and your mouth waters. As much as you loved seeing Bucky in the maid dress, this is fun too. You slowly drag the tip of the knife gently down his abdomen, muscles flexing under the cool touch of metal.The sounds of a rip makes you pause. You check and sure enough Bucky’s bulging metal bicep has ripped through the band of the dress.

“Holy shit, I love you.” You smash your lips onto his for a messy kiss. Bucky is more than eager to slip his tongue into your mouth. You pull away when you need to breath and work on Bucky’s sleeve. The previous rip already making the cheap material easy to shred. You make the rip reach the slice you made and use the knife for the other sleeve. You put it back in it’s sheathe. Bucky maneuvers to the best of his ability so you can pull the maid dress out from underneath him. You pull his boxers down. His red and leaking cock hit his stomach. You grab the vibrator off the edge of the bed and turn it on it’s lowest setting. You drag the vibrator up and down the underside of his cock. He shouts out, muscles tensing at the stimulation. Just as quickly as you were touching him, you’ve stopped. You move the vibrator off him as you grin, bringing the vibrator to your clit through your slutty panties. You lose yourself in the vibrations before Bucky speaks out gruffly.

“Watch it, sweetheart. Whatever you do to me, I can do to you.” Your response is to turn up the setting on the vibrator and moan out. “Oh, c’mon, don’t you want my dick?” He rocks his hips up. “You can act like a tease all you want, but we both know you love leaking with my cum. You just love being filled to the brim as I fuck you through both of our orgasms.” You whimper out his name. “Yeah, honey, you were made to take this cock. Do such good job of it too. C’mon, please. Jus’ wanna feel you cum around me. That stupid piece of plastic can’t make you cum as hard as I can.” You thought you were slut for Bucky Barnes and that was before you heard his gravely begging underneath you. A whole new wave of want rushes through your veins and your shutting off the vibrator. Your hand pumps his dick a few times, leaking so much you don’t even need lube to touch him.

“Fuck!” Bucky repeatedly chants as you finally grab the base of him and slide him into your entrance, panties pushed to the side. Bucky is gargantuan. He always is at the first slide. Your walls need a few seconds to accommodate him. During the time, Bucky’s muscles tense as he pants. He can’t do anything, but feel you. No outlet for the pent up energy he’s been harboring. He is literally so pretty, you can feel a heartbeat in your lower muscles. You grind on his dick, testing your limits. He groans. “Baby, I’m gonna you to-.” Bucky’s encouragement is cut off with a deep groan as you lift yourself off Bucky’s cock, tip just outside your entrance, and falling back on it. Bucky can’t stop his curses and groans as you do it again and again, eventually setting a nice pace for yourself. You ride Bucky’s dick in earnest. Closer than you realized with the previous vibrator and his dirty talk, you move in a way that feels good for you. Bucky’s pleasure an afterthought. With a hand pressed against his pectoral, you rock against him. You close your eyes and bite your lip, bringing your other hand to rub your clit.

“Oh my god, are you gonna cum already? How��s my cock feel, sweetheart? Such a cockslut, you’re already close. Look at me.” Bucky rocks his hips up as you drop down, causing you to gasp out his name. “Look. At. Me.” You open your eyes to glare down at him. You hands slides up to wrap around his thick neck. You can feel his racing pulse underneath your fingertips.

“I swear if you ruin this for me, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? What will you do?” Bucky waits for a response. You can’t, too tongue tied as your peak gets closer and closer. “That’s what I thought. Now be a good cockslut and cum on my cock.” You double down on your efforts until you’re cumming. Pleasure rolls up your spine. You’re movement falters as you get lost in your orgasm. Before you know it, you’re on your back, you’re supposed tied up boyfriend on top of you. Bucky picks up your slack, fucking you at a brutal pace through your orgasm.

“Wait, Bucky. How?” You brain tries to catch up as he gathers your wrists in his metal hand and pins them to the bed above your head.

“You need to get better at tying, baby. Didn’t even have to break the restraints. They fell apart halfway through.”

“Fuck.” The word you use is long and drawn out, arching your hips to meet Bucky’s thrusts. Having a supersoldier underneath you to use at your indiscretion was fun, but there truly is something about letting Bucky take the reins, rippling muscles of caged energy pressed against you. Bucky’s thrusts slow as his free hand searches for something on the bed. With a victorious grin, Bucky is turning on the vibrator at a higher setting than you previously had it. He slides it between your bodies to rest on your clit. The flimsy lace of your stretched out panties does nothing to barricade the pleasure.

“You’ll cum for me, again. Right?” You curse his name, trying to buck away from the vibrator. The vibrations are too much for your sensitive clit. Bucky is persistent, keeping the vibrator pressed against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky. Please. Please. Please.” It’s your turn to repeat words, not exactly sure what your begging for. You just know the pleasure is almost too much. With the combination of Bucky’s girthy cock and the vibrator, it’s not long before you’re coming. Your muscles shake as your orgasm hits you. You moan until your voice runs hoarse. He keeps the vibrator on your clit until your orgasm is done.

“Love it when you cum. Wish I could be in this pussy all day.” Bucky lets go of your wrist and cups your cheek tenderly. He ducks down for a filthy kiss, tongue included. Your muscles feel weighted, but you manage to match Bucky’s enthusiasm in his kiss. Before you can register it, your brain a little fuzzy from the two orgasms, you’re facing the sheets on your stomach. His cocks slips out during the commotion. Bucky lifts your upper half to lean against him so you’re on your knees, using his own knees to spread them. You head rolls down.

You share the same qualities as a rag doll right now, joints weak and ears still ringing from your orgasm. Not that it’s stopping Bucky. Facing down, you get to witness Bucky’s angry, leaking, and glistening with your cum erection extending practically past your belly button as he ruts against your sex. Electric shocks are sent to your nervous system everytime Bucky manages to make contact with your clit. Your only thought is you want him to destroy you with his dick as he wraps his metal arm around your neck, head now resting against his clavicle.

“Remember your colors, baby girl? What’s your color?” Bucky’s voice is in a low, hushed tone. His lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. You eyes flutter shut, hands moving to hold on to his forearm wrapped around your neck.

“Green.” Even with your hazy mind and heavy tongue, you manage to answer Bucky. He presses a quick, stubbly kiss to your temple before turning his attention to your underwear.

“These are unnecessary.” He grabs ahold the triangle of lacey material of your underwear and pulls. It doesn’t take much of Bucky’s strength for the strings of your underwear to snap. He throws the offending clothing over his shoulder. He flips his bowie knife out of the sheath strapped to his thigh. Bucky fucked the knife out of your memory. Goosebumps erupt onto your skin as he gently traces the knife’s tip up your stomach to slip underneath the band of your bra. “I’ll buy you a new set.” He says before slicing through the band of your bra with a flick of his wrist. You gasp out and Bucky slices through the straps too. He flips his knife into the sheath and throws your bra away from you.

“Want your cock, Bucky. Please.”

“How could I say no to such pretty begging? I can’t let the cockslut be hungry for too long, now. Can I?” You can feel Bucky reaching his hand down over your abdomen and then the next thing you know, you’re being filled to the brim with cock. Okay, fuck what you said about the first slide. You’re pretty sure you could cum again at this slide. With your fucked out brain, there is so much of Bucky. Bucky sliding his cock in slow sure doesn’t help either. Bucky groans right next to your ear. It’s almost a sensory overload. You haven’t even registered you’re moaning yourself. Bucky finally- finally bottoms out, giving you time to catch your shuddering breath. “You still with me?”

You manage to rasp out an affirmative.

“Good girl.” And then Bucky is pulling out and thrusting in. You manage to get out a curse at the friction before Bucky truly starts to thrust into you. His pace picks up quickly. His powerful thighs slam into your slick ones as he rumbles deep within his chest. You can feel it throughout your whole torso. “Addicted to this pussy. Love how you feel around me.” Bucky moves his right hand to rub your abused clit. You grab ahold of his wrist. Bucky’s too stong to move his hand off your clit. You’re forced to feel the all the pleasure he gives you.

“Aww, c’mon. You can cum for me one more time.” Bucky tucks his nose behind your ear and kisses underneath it. He changes the angle of his rubs and your thighs start to shake. “There you go, sweetheart. Just one more.” Bucky’s metal bicep bulges making it a little harder to breathe as he thrusts faster. The two previous orgasms make you sensitive. In just a few meager minutes, you can feel the rise of your orgasm. This orgasm hits you harder than the previous two. The pleasure takes you over in waves. Your thighs shake as Bucky fucks you through it. He moans louder than you sounding like he enjoys you’re orgasm almost as much as you. He finally notices your fingers digging into his skin and stops rubbing your clit.

“God, baby. I’m so close. Gonna let me use you?”

You nodd.

“Say it.”

“Use me. Wanna feel you cum in me.” You rasp out with an even heavier mind. Bucky lets out a whorish moan as his thrusts get even more energetic. It shouldn’t be possible, but then you wouldn’t be dating a super soldier. Within just a few more thrusts, you can feel Bucky flood your insides. He groans as he slows down to prolong his orgasm. Bucky was hot before, but he’s even hotter as he coming. The only thing you dislike about this position is not being able to see Bucky’s abs contract as he cums. You can still feel his abs jump against you lower back. Bucky’s thrusts eventually die down until he’s just bottomed out in you. He takes a minute to catch his breath before he uncurls his arm off your throat, keeping his right hand on your hip to steady you.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he gently slips out and sets you on the bed.

“Tired.”

“I know and you can rest in a bit, but we gotta get cleaned up first.” You groan at that. “C’mon, baby. I’ll grab the washcloth.” The smile in Bucky’s voice is prominent as he gets out of bed. You can hear him rummaging around in the attached bathroom as you rest your eyes. You fall asleep before Bucky can bring out the warm wet washcloth. He still wipes you down while you’re half asleep before joining you back in bed.

Bucky will be there in the morning to massage out your sore muscles because Bucky is a good boyfriend. And if you happen to order the same maids dress the next day only to leave it in the exact same spot the previous package was in, Bucky doesn’t bring it up. He just adds it to the back of his closet when you’re not looking.

#the knife stays ON during sex and I think thats the most Bucky thing I’ve ever written #Mel if you’re reading this I failed at making sub!Bucky 😔#Looks like I'll have to try again #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky/ reader #bucky barnes/ reader #bucky barnes/ you #bucky barnes barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #maybe overstimulation will become my trademark #if this is bad you never read it #my writing

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Three

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Smut, NonCon, Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Cruel!Bucky, Injuries, Violence, TRIGGER WARNING FOR NON CONSENSUAL SEX, fluff??? Maybe?? Can you call it that????

Word Count: 3.6K

A/n: I'm making soup right now!!!! It won’t be done until maybe eleven thirty (It’s ten thirty rn) and I work at 4 tomorrow morning so RIP me. Um... I hope to post the next part of In a Heartbeat soon (Tonight or tomorrow) but we’ll see. I hope you guys are all having a lovely evening and I love you all very much!!

Spoiler(ish) A/n 2: So this chapter is very dark BUT the next chapter will not be as dark so you have that to look forward to.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND VERY DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

PART ONE

PART TWO

~*~

“No breakfast again this morning, Your Majesty?” You shake your head at your guard, turning your back to her and motioning for her to tie up your corset.

She starts tying, apologizing every now and again when you inhale sharply at the tightness.

“Natalia, I would appreciate it if my name were not one you said to the king. With every mention of me, he becomes more agitated. He is entitled to do whatever it is that he pleases to me, for I belong to him now. I fear you getting involved in any way will only make matters worse for me.”

She wonders what James might've done when he last saw you to have you saying this, but she knows better than to ask.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I ask you forgive me for speaking so plainly without permission.”

It’s been weeks since the king left, and the Kingdom has started growing cold with the coming winter.

“Today, if you will allow it, I would like to take you to the stables. You have been here for well over a month and have yet to meet your horse.” You cock your head to the side. You didn’t even know you had a horse here.

“I have a horse?” She nods, draping a cloak over your shoulders. “You have whatever you want here. This is your home. Your kingdom. Anything you wish for will be brought to you. All you need do is ask.”

“I suppose you’re correct. Forgive me for being so blunt, but I have not felt very welcomed in my new home.” She nods, opening the door for you and walking you down the hall.

“I know it has been said many times, but the King is simply under a fair amount of stress. He knows not how his words affect you. You mustn’t think you are the cause of his anger. He is wrong to take it out on you. I know it isn’t my place, but before Steven was taken, the two kings were greatly looking forward to meeting you and marrying you. However, without his husband, I fear James has become a shell of a man.”

You hum, her words making sense when you think back to the way the King treated you and some of the things he said.

“It’s comical. The King fears I am trying to replace his husband when I have not even spoken his name. I have not said a word about King Steven and yet His Majesty treats me as if I am the one who lost him in the first place.” You stop in your tracks, horror filling you at what you’ve said.

“I am too bold, for I know not what I am saying. Please forgive me, Natalia. I did not mean anything by it.” She smiles gently at you.

“You do not need to be afraid of speaking freely in front of me. I will not breathe a word of it to the King. What is said in my presence stays with me and only me.” You smile gratefully at her but say nothing more, not knowing how much you can trust the woman beside you.

~*~

The days go by in blurs of grey. You rarely leave your chambers unless coaxed by Nat or Wanda, and even then it is only for brief moments.

Your appetite has shrunk and you hardly sleep more than a few hours a night, something both women are starting to become worried about.

Natalia was asked to take care of you, and she feels horrid for doing such a terrible job. But she isn’t sure what else she can do.

“We should hear from the King soon. It’s been nearly two months since his departure,” Wanda says from beside the bathtub. You’re laying in the warm water, eyes closed in a pathetic attempt at ignoring the world around yourself.

Something about what she says clicks in your mind and you peel your eyes open.

“How long did you say?” You ask, voice scratchy from lack of use.

“It’s been nearly two months since he left.” She repeats, smiling gently at you. You nod, teeth grinding together as butterflies fill your belly.

“Wanda, could you fetch the doctor? I am feeling unwell.” She nods, jumping up from her spot and hurrying to the door. While she’s gone you climb out of the bathtub and quickly dry off, heart in your throat as you get dressed.

You’re pulling on a plain beige dress when Wanda re-enters the room, a doctor following close behind.

“Your Majesty.” He bows then stands back up quickly, pushing his spectacles up higher on his nose.

“Please excuse us, Wanda.” She nods, disappointment in her eyes, but leaves nonetheless.

You wait until you’re sure she’s away from the door before speaking.

“I have not bled since arriving here,” you say bluntly, wanting to know now if what you think is actually true.

He raises his eyebrows and nods, licking his lips.

“When was your last bleed before arriving?” You take a deep breath, trying hard to remember. “Probably about a week... maybe two before I arrived.” He nods, pulling a small notepad out of his jacket and jotting something down.

“The days add up. I would not be surprised if you were with child. I’d like to do a few inspections, just to be sure, but I am fairly confident that you are.” He pulls the stethoscope from around his neck and puts the earpieces in his ears.

He presses the flat part against your chest, listening intently before nodding and jotting a few more things down.

When he crouches down and presses the flat part to your lower belly you feel like you may throw up.

It’s dead silent in the room, you holding your breath, and him listening carefully.

A smile breaks out across his face and he stands up.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty. I can hear two healthy heartbeats.”

You’re going to faint.

He must see you start to sway because he grabs your arms and hurries you to your bed, laying you down.

“I’ll send for Lady Wanda. Have her bring some water.” You nod, clenching your jaw as you try to fight both tears and dizziness.

You’re pregnant.

You’re going to have a baby.

You dread having to tell the King.

~*~

Two weeks after finding out the news and you’ve told no one. The Doctor, (Doctor Banner as you found out later) is the only other person who knows and you’ve sworn him to secrecy.

Two weeks after finding out you’re carrying the future of Acadia and that is news you’ve kept to yourself. Who can you tell? Your husband still hasn’t sent word, and there’s been no sign of him.

You sit in your chambers, picking at a piece of bread more than eating it.

“Majesty, you’ve lost weight. You need to eat, please,” Wanda begs. You look over at her then back down to your almost untouched plate of food.

After a moment of staring at the food you sigh, one hand coming to your stomach.

“Wanda, where do your loyalties lie?” She furrows her brows in confusion at your question.

“I don’t think I understand what you mean, your Majesty.” You sigh and look at her. “Could you keep a secret from the King if I requested you to do as such?” She nods without hesitation. “You are my queen and I am your lady. You are my top priority, before the kings.” You nod, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your stomach.

“I’m with child,” you tell her, eyes focused on the pristine walls.

She takes a sharp breath in, hurrying to your side and looking into your eyes.

“Is this confirmed?” You nod, placing a hand on your tiny bump.

“I have not told his majesty yet, because I have no way of contacting him. I can only hope that after he is made aware of my pregnancy... I hope he is kinder.” She nods, smiling gently at you.

“I’m sure he will be. He and King Steven spoke so fondly of having children. Of having you. When they come back I am positive King James will make up for all he has done to you. Now, you must eat. I will not leave this spot until you eat half of what is here. If not for your sake then for that of your child.” You purse your lips then nod, picking up a scrap of bread and bringing it to your lips.

She smiles encouragingly, watching with warmth in her eyes as you eat the food on your plate.

~*~

You’re falling into light sleep when there’s a sudden commotion outside of your chambers.

“He’s returned?” A muffled voice asks.

James.

You bolt upright, stumbling out of your bed and rushing over to your window. Sure enough, the group of riders is back. But one is missing from the King’s horse.

“He was unsuccessful. We could not find Steve. He... he is not taking it well.” That’s Samuel's voice.

You open your door, smiling at Nat and Sam.

“He is back?” You ask. Sam nods then scratches the nape of his neck.

“He is... not in good spirits right now, Your Majesty. It would be unwise to see him until he has calmed down.”

You take a deep breath, Wanda’s words ringing in your head. He needs to know this. If only to spare yourself some pain.

“I need to speak to him and I need to do so now. This has waited long enough. I do not care if he is not in good spirits. I have waited far too long to tell him.” The two nod and Sam points you in the direction of where the King is.

Your heart is racing in your ears and you hold your stomach, beyond nervous for the King’s reaction.

When you get to the throne room you find the door open, the King having his back to you.

“Your Majesty?” You call, only becoming more nervous when you see the way his shoulders tighten at the sound of your voice.

“I asked to be left alone,” he growls, his voice low and full of anger. You take a deep breath and nod, stepping into the throne room.

“I realize that, Your Majesty, and I apologize for intruding, but I mist speak with you.” He chuckles, turning around slowly to look at you.

He’s dirty and there’s dried blood on the side of his face. His eyes are red and blood-shot and you realize that he must’ve been crying.

“What could you possibly have to say that would lead you to believe it is important enough for me to hear?” Your mouth drops open in shock and he scoffs.

“You waste my time, you stupid girl. I want nothing of you, do you not understand that?!”

“Believe me, Your Majesty, I understand that plenty. You think I do not know of your resentment but I do. I am not here by my own free will, might I remind you. I am not the one who chose to come here. If my memory serves me correctly, it was you and King Steven who chose me.”

You hardly register what happens next. One moment you’re standing up facing the king, the next you’re on the ground, cheek stinging and the taste of blood in your mouth while the sound of a slap rings in your ears.

“You will not speak to your King in that manner! It is a privilege to be here, and it is time you realized that. You were chosen, yes. Chosen to bear the children of the great Kings of the West. However, that does not make you irreplaceable! You can easily be beheaded and another woman brought in your place.” He eyes you for a moment, his anger and sorrow consuming him.

“It seems my words are not enough to remind you what you are meant for. Perhaps my cock will do a better job?” You shake your head, scrambling back, but it’s too late. He’s already on top of you, shoving your legs apart and pushing your skirts up past your hips.

“No! Your Majesty, please! I-I’m sorry! Please, don’t!” He smacks you again, successfully silencing your pleads for him to stop. Tears leak from your eyes and you feel whatever fight you had left in you be drained.

Your mind goes blank and it’s as if all your senses have been turned off.

You can’t feel anything. Not his hands on your hips, nor his manhood tearing you apart. You can’t hear his angry grunts or the choked sobs he’s trying so desperately to contain.

You simply lie beneath him, tears trailing down your cheeks and eyes focused on a stain on the wall across from where you are.

Hot tears splatter against your face, adding to your own, and somewhere through your hazy mind you realize he’s crying. Why he could possibly be crying when he’s the one causing pain is beyond you, but you don’t care anymore. Not about him, nor his husband, nor his kingdom. The heir you carry... you’re hardly sure if you care about it anymore either.

When he’s finished he doesn’t look at you. He can’t. He can’t face what he’s done. Instead, he fixes your skirts, gets up, and leaves you on the floor.

You have no strength left inside of you. Your body is stuck on the ground, tears still flowing down your cheeks and dripping into a puddle on the floor.

Alone on the floor you lie, not sure for how long. Minutes, hours, days. You have no idea. You hardly hear the feet running to you, nor do you process the hands pulling you into a seated position, fingers on your neck checking for a pulse.

A woman’s voice shouting for the doctor while strong arms pick you up.

You’re carried through the halls, each one looking so much like the last, and then you’re on your bed again.

There are people speaking, voices all muffled together that you can’t hear and you wish would go away.

And then you’re jolted back to reality by a spray of cold water.

You gasp, arms coming around your body and hugging yourself as shivers wrack your frame.

“There you are, Your Majesty,” Doctor Banner says, his eyes moving from your face down to your stomach.

“Everyone out. I need to inspect the Queen in privacy.” You don’t look to see who else is in the room. You don’t care.

You keep your gaze locked forward, trembling as the cold water seeps into your bones.

“It was the only method I could think of to pull you from your shock, Your Majesty. I do hope you’ll forgive me.” You don’t reply and the Doctor sighs.

“Lady Wanda, run a hot bath for her. And have someone fetch some of the tea I asked for.” You’re assuming Wanda does as asked because you can hear the water filling up the tub.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Doctor Banner asks. You say nothing.

“Are you hurt?” You shrug.

“Can I examine you?” You nod. He lays you down and presses the stethoscope to your stomach, nodding once then sitting between your legs. He flips your skirts up and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I will need to have a word with his Majesty. He cannot be so rough while you are with child.” You shake your head, pushing yourself onto your elbows.

The doctor raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“You don’t want me to tell him?” You nod. He sighs but agrees.

“You must rest though, Your Majesty. I can only imagine how much pain you are in.” When you still say nothing he sighs and rises to his feet.

“From what I gathered, all is well with the child. It will take a few days for you to heal properly, and I recommend you eat more and add more meats and cheeses to your diet. You need to gain weight and sleep more. Both you and your child require that. I will inform the chefs of your change in meal schedule. I expect you to follow it this time.” You simply nod and the doctor leaves without another word.

Wanda is at your side before you can fall back into the abyss of numbness, helping you to the bathtub and pulling your soiled dress from your body.

“I’ll have it disposed of. You spend as much time as you’d like in the tub. I sent Nat and Sam to fetch tea and soup for you. No one has seen the King since...” She trails off, a frown on her lips at the way you make no sign of having even heard her.

A knock on the door pulls her from her worries momentarily and she hurries to open it.

Nat comes in, a tray in her hand, and Sam is standing guard at the door, under strict order from the redhead not to let the King anywhere near your chambers.

“How is she?” Nat asks. Wanda shakes her head, sighing heavily. “She hasn’t spoken a word. Not even to Doctor Banner. I fear he may have done damage that cannot be healed.” Nat nods, her eyes on you.

“Your Majesty? I’ve brought you some soup and tea. Doctor Banner has said that you need to eat more.” She sits on the padded vanity stool after tugging it to the bathtub and sets the tray down on the floor beside her.

She picks up the soup and offers you the bowl, at which you simply stare. She sighs and raises a spoonful of it to her mouth, blowing on it gently before offering it to you. You open your mouth and allow her to spoon-feed you the warm soup.

It takes both women to get you out of the tub and into bed, but once you’re in bed you never want to move.

Wanda blows out the few candles you had in your chambers and her and Nat quietly leave.

~*~

“She’s been up for several hours. She lit a fire a few hours ago and has been sitting in front of it ever since,” Nat whispers, looking at the brunette with sad eyes.

“The King has destroyed her spirit,” Wanda whispers back. You sit perfectly poised in front of the fire, your back facing the two women.

“Has she spoken yet?” Wanda asks, to which Nat replies with a sad shake of her head.

Your fingers poke at your stomach, hatred in your heart for the life growing within you.

A plate of fruit and nuts sits in front of you, one you’ve been nibbling at since the early hours of the morning.

You’re not meaning to be silent, you simply have nothing left to say to anyone, no fight in you and nothing left to give. You’re tired and absolutely done with this life that you’re living.

“Nat?” The two watch you carefully for any reaction to the King’s voice.

“You should be beaten for all that you’ve done to her,” Nat says matter-of-factly. The King sighs and you hear his footsteps slow as he approaches your door.

“I came to talk to her. To apologize and explain.” The redhead snorts. “It’s a little bit late for that, Your Majesty. She hasn’t spoken a word since we found her yesterday. I doubt she wants anything to do with you.” You couldn’t care less at this point.

“Please?” The redhead sighs but steps aside, allowing her King access to his wife.

“(Y/n)?” You don’t move, eyes focused on the flames in front of you. He sits himself down beside you, eyes on the side of your face.

You’ve lost weight. Your face is slimmer, less lively than last he saw it. The bags under your eyes have only grown and you look... exhausted.

“May I have a moment alone with her? Please?” The two women exchange glances before slowly nodding.

“We will be just beyond the door if you need anything from us, Your Majesty.” He knows they’re not talking to him. As soon as the door is closed he sighs, shoulders slumping forward.

“I will never be able to apologize for all that I have done to you. You... you have endured far more than you should have and I have treated you unfairly. I have... I have brutalized you and broken you down. I take full responsibility for my actions.”

He sighs heavily before continuing, his voice quiet and broken.

“I miss my husband. And although that is no excuse, it is my explanation. I have never been one to love easily, and loving him... it was hard to accept for the longest time. And then I opened myself up to a love I have never experienced before, only to have him ripped from my grasp.

“We chose you specifically. Your beauty and wit... we knew you would make a wonderful queen. He would talk about you at night, we would discuss what having you would be like. And now every time I look at you I see him and it pains me. Because you are a dream that he and I were meant to share. It is wrong for me to take that out on you and I will never ever be deserving of your forgiveness.”

When you still say nothing he sighs.

“I... I would like for us to be civil, at the very least. And I know you have tried and I have not been open to this before, but I would like to start over if you’ll allow it.”

Even if you didn’t want to be civil with him, his word trumps yours.

“Join me for dinner tonight? I will have the cooks prepare whatever you would like to eat.”

You don’t want to eat a single damn thing. But do you really have a choice?

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sitp-recs · 3 years

Note

hello! i recently just read nice things by aideomai and it was gorgeous and sweet and made my heart swell. do you know any similar fics? doesnt have to be their final year, just the way draco and harry got together and all the warm wholesome heart warming bits. thank you so much :)

Hello darling! Oh my, you just sent one of my favorite asks about one of my favorite authors and fics! Aideomai is absolutely brilliant and their works are indeed one-of-a-kind. I thought a lot before answering this (thank you Tacky for handling me lol) because I felt the joy and responsibility of reccing fics in the same (or at least a similar) wavelength and I think I will start by reccing.... MORE aideomai! I’m sure you’re going through their other works as we speak and honestly I recommend all of them, but especially Dwelling, Far From The Tree and In the Hand which are absolutely mind blowing.

Now, on to other authors! These are some of the most gorgeous get together fics I’ve read. Most of them have that wistful atmosphere, a bit sad and a bit hopeful, with Harry and Draco working through some of their issues, moving on and finding each other in the process. They are not excessively dramatic and the romance develops in a sweet and organic way. All these fics touched and warmed my heart in different ways, and I tried to include different tropes and ratings to meet everyone’s preferences. I hope I did your ask justice! ❤️

8th year fics:

Like Lightning at your Fingertips by potterwatch (2019, Teen and Up, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re an insomniac, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (2019, Mature, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks (2015, Explicit, 73k)

Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.

Future fics:

halcyon days by @the-starryknight (2020, Teen and Up, 1.3k) - okay so this one is actually established relationship but they’re soft and in love, and the word game reminds me a lot of Nice Things :)

Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (2020, Mature, 3.2k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, Teen and Up, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass (2021, General, 5k) - recced by @starlightspark, ty!

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (2017, Teen and Up, 14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (2016, Teen and Up, 22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by blamebrampton (2012, Teen and Up, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Choosing to lead it in Muggle Brixton comes with its own set of challenges, including Malfoys in the biscuit aisle.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (2015, Mature, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (2020, Teen and Up, 38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

Against All Odds by momatu (2015, Explicit, 53k)

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present. Meanwhile, Draco is stuck in his office, putting together the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe during, when he should be enjoying summer holidays.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (2018, Teen and Up, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

#anon #asks #nice things #aideomai

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

The first summer after the incident at Starcourt, things have finally had enough time to slowly ease back into normalcy.

The day after school lets out, the kids talk Steve into letting them come swim in his pool. It’s only for a couple of hours, and honestly, it does them all some good, the kids getting to pretend things are okay for a while, and Steve getting to soothe that worry that crept in every time he didn’t have an eye on all of them, so despite the guilt they all certainly felt for having fun, they let themselves enjoy it, for a little while at least.

The gimmick of what made summer fun ran out pretty quickly for them though, so once they’d all gotten sunburnt shoulders and had tangles in their hair and wrinkles on their fingers from the chlorinated water, they decided it was time to go home. They weren’t up for the arcade or ice cream after the pool like they used to be either, but they had had just under a year now to decide they were okay with that.

So Steve loads them all up into his new Mercedes-Benz, the replacement for the BMW that became necessary post battle when they discovered his car had been crushed at some point during that night by the Mind Flayer, and took them all home.

Max’s house was the last on his route no matter which way he went, the only member of the party who lived on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town now that the Byers’ had moved, so it’s just the two of them in the car. As they pull up outside though, she hesitates to get out, instead nervously picking at the stitches in the seat, mulling over something in her head.

They aren’t really close, no bond between them beyond babysitter and grumpy teenager not happy to have one, but Steve feels an obligation towards all of these kids, so he shifts in the seat so he’s facing her, and asks her in a way he hoped sounds approachable, “What’s up, Max?”

Max takes another second and a deep breath before speaking, wringing her hands nervously, “Billy’s birthday is in a few days and I don’t think anybody knows that, but I want to do something for him.”

Steve nods, doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do at first, “Have you talked to your mom about this?”

He asks because word traveled fast in a small town like Hawkins. Everyone and their mother knew that Neil Hargrove had split before they’d even stabilized his son in the hospital, and his wife had stayed with their children, taking full responsibility for Billy and Max. If anyone should be having a party for Billy, it should be Susan.

“Yeah and she liked the idea, but she’s been really busy with work and stuff, double now with Billy’s medical bills, and I know a lot of the other parents are too and some of them I just don’t know well enough to ask, and I don’t know who else to turn to because normally I’d take this stuff to Billy and I can’t do it by myself.” Max rambles all in one breath, has clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

Steve obviously wants to encourage that, so he asks, “What did you wanna do for him?”

“I just wanted to have a party for him at the hospital, but I know that’s kinda dumb since nobody goes to see him anyways.” Max mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the door handle like she’s going to get out, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. What day is it, his birthday?”

“The sixth. I know that’s kinda short notice but-“ Max starts again, but Steve interrupts, a small smile on his face as if to prove he’s genuine, “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to let Billy be alone on his birthday.”

It doesn’t seem to have the effect Steve wanted though, because Max scoffs and pushes the car door open, snapping before she gets out, “You do every other day.”

Even though Max had been so short with him at first, after that, she and Steve work on a plan at the end of every day when he was driving her back home, Max slowly evolving from tense about even bringing it up to actually excited for this thing they were working on together for her brother.

Steve doesn’t really have the time or the know-how for home made anything, but he buys everything you typically would find at an under twenty one birthday party, balloons and streamers, a chocolate cake, per Max’s request, and a tub of Superman ice cream, also a suggestion from Max.

He doesn’t buy Billy a present, he figures he doesn’t have use for much for anything material in the hospital, and although he’s willing to help, he feels he still doesn’t really know Billy like that anymore.

Or maybe he does, he just doesn’t know if the friendship they had been reluctantly developing would withstand the strain the accident at Starcourt had put on it, and didn’t feel it was very appropriate just to show up with an expensive knick knack that would just rub his wealth in Billy’s face.

Instead, he gets him a card, because who doesn’t want a birthday card, and leaves a hundred dollars and a heartfelt note in it. The money is because he has it and Billy needs it more than he does, and a hundred dollars was standard for milestone birthdays, in his family at least, and since Billy was lucky to see his nineteenth come around, he figures this counted.

So on the sixth of June, they’re ready to celebrate Billy.

Steve drives the kids all to the hospital that day, surprised that even without El around right now to convince them to, they were all willing to come. He guesses they’d all seen how torn up Max was when Billy was admitted to the hospital, and now that eleven months later he still hadn’t got out, it was bound to be hard on her.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, Max had let it slip to Billy a few days beforehand in her excitement, so they just went straight up to his room, each kid and Steve carrying something, decorations or food or presents.

At first, Billy doesn’t really seem to thrilled to see them, but Steve supposed he wouldn’t be either, it couldn’t be any fun aging in the hospital, especially surrounded by nobody but your little sisters friends.

But they still set it all up for him, tying balloons to his bed and hanging streamers above the door. Max sits with him and keeps him entertained with stories, but what makes his mood significantly improve is when a nurse interrupted them to give him another dose of his pain meds.

Once they’re all set up, it’s Lucas who points out, “We forgot the candles for the cake.”

And it’s Max who, without really thinking about it, reminds him, “We probably have some with all the decorations and stuff we bought.”

It’s Dustin who looks and finds a pack of candles that someone indeed had brought, and calls out, “Found some.”

But it’s Steve who is seemingly the only one able to remember that the birthday boy was still on oxygen after a lung transplant and didn’t think he needed to be blowing out any candles, reminding Dustin very pointedly, “Actually, Dustin, I don’t think we need any candles.

Of course he argues, because kids do, “C'mon Steve, it's a birthday cake. All birthday cakes have candles.”

“Yeah, but I said I don’t think this one needs any.” Steve says, through his teeth this time, nodding subtly towards Billy, and Dustin's eyes widen a little, and the candles get put back without another word about it.

Instead, Steve gives Billy the zippo from his pocket, flipping it open for him so a tiny flame dances in front of his face, “Make a wish, Hargrove.”

Billy takes the lighter, a little apprehensively, but he stays quiet, looking up at Steve as he presumably makes his wish to himself, then clicks it shut, extinguishing the flame.

Ever impatient, the kids decide that’s their cue to cut into the cake without really asking anybody, but Steve doesn’t stop them, because as Billy reminds Max when she sits down on his bedside with a piece, “I can’t really eat that right now, kiddo, but thank you.”

She blows him off, teasingly uncaring in that sibling way, “Oh, I know, that’s why I picked chocolate cake, ‘cause I know you don’t like it. I just wanted you to have one, so it felt like a real birthday.”

Billy smiles wide, holds his arms out the best he can anymore for a hug, “Aww, come ‘ere, shitbird.”

Max spends the rest of their little impromptu party at his bedside, talking to her friends but sitting with her brother, the both of them chasing that sense of normalcy that everyone else had been able to move on and achieve, but they had no chance at grasping so long as they were apart.

That is at least, until to keep himself busy while the kids argue about something, Billy reads his card from Steve, that long written out note that detailed all his feelings and regrets and thoughts about Billy that he had been grappling with since Billy was hospitalized, sorrys and thank yous and happy birthday, everything crammed into that card but the part about how Steve had been falling in love with Billy since they met in ‘84.

It makes Steve nervous, twitchy and vulnerable with Billy reads it, until he gently closes the card and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and a little teary.

The first thing he says is an unrelated question, ruffling his little sisters hair and asking her, “Maxi, can you go down to the vending machine at the end of the hall and grab me some stuff? I’m running out of candy to hide in the bedside drawer.”

Max nods and slides down from his bed, and Billy adds, “Take all your friends too. See if they want anything.”

He waits until all the kids are gone, their voices echoing distantly down the long hallway, to ask Steve, “D’you do all this for me, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, not sure if he’s more humble or nervous about why Billy wanted to talk to him alone, “It was Max’s idea.”

“But you still organized it, right?”

“I guess. I don’t want a thank you or anything though.” Steve insists, but Billy smiles, a bright one like Steve hardly ever saw anymore, and insists right back “Too bad, you’re getting one. Thank you.”

Steve just shrugs again, “It’s your birthday, Hargrove. I wasn’t going to let you be forgotten.”

“I would’ve been okay, Steve. Birthdays were just… never really a thing in my family anyways.”

Steve can tell they were going to go back and forth all day, arguing over whether or not he should be celebrated, and if he needed someone by his side, if he doesnt change the subject, so he asks him, “What’d you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” Billy hums, thoughtful, and he says, sounding like his sister, “And it’s sort of dumb anyways.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not dumb. If it’s something you want, it can’t be.”

Billy looks up at him, a little smile on his face, and explains, “I don’t know it’s just, I’m going to be sick for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in the hospital for another month at least and my dad disowned me, but, my wish still wasn’t for any of that to change.”

“What was it then?”

Billy takes a deep breath, a noticeable flush to his face, “I wished that I would have the guts to finally do this.”

For a second Steve wonders what he’s talking about, worries briefly that he was going to use the distraction and the relaxed attention from the nurses on his birthday to make grand escape from the hospital or something, until Billy leans up and kisses him.

It’s chaste and it’s sweet, everything that he’d expect from anybody that wasn’t Billy Hargrove, and everything that Steve could ever have wanted. He sits down on the bed beside Billy to make the angle easier on the both of them, not breaking the kiss for even a second, bringing his hand up to cup Billy's cheek, and deepening the kiss.

They’re interrupted by the squeaking of tennis shoes on the waxy hospital floors in the hallway, the kids coming back already, so Steve pulls away, just as flushed as Billy was now and keeping one of his hands resting on top of Billy’s, “Happy birthday, Billy.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #the party #ej writer #story by ej!#also posted on my ao3!#posting this less than a half hour before my birthday is over oops

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doiefy · 3 years

Text

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems for beta reading this for me !! <333

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Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out, but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #the longest shit ive ever written hoLY SHIT #cznnet

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bunny-xoxo · 3 years

Text

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 2 - ew, small talk

warning(s): Tsukishima’s behavior 😐

a/n: I’m happy you guys seemed to really enjoy the introductory chapter!! I hope you enjoy this one just as much, and more tsuki content!! Ahhh I’d love to hear your thoughts per usual, and enjoy !! <3

ch. 1

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Oh my god.

At this point you’d rather have a failing grade than have to keep talking to this guy.

Maybe it was just the fact you’ve felt like you’ve made a fool of yourself about 59 million times, but you were officially over it.

Tsuki leaned back into his chair with that same smirk he gave you earlier, raised eyebrows and all. You’re starting to wonder if that’s maybe just how his face rests.

“No no, go ahead. You first.” His voice was quiet and monotone, very appropriate for the setting, not so much for your nerves.

The way he held himself was, interesting. You know it’s only been maybe 5 minutes since you’ve met which is most definitely not enough time to start making any kind of assumptions about a person, but with the air around him so tense and serious, how could you not?

You could see his legs were just slightly spread in his seat, as far as it would allow it. And instead of doing the casual thing and resting his head in his hand while he waited for you to speak, it was tilted just slightly upward. Chin just barely jutting out at you, head leaning to the left just a tad. His forearms rested on the arms of the chair rather than the table, too.

Everything about his body language said, go on, I’m waiting for you to answer me. Rather than, go ahead, I’m listening.

It made your nerves congregate in your throat and made it difficult for you to speak.

He does not need to be making me this nervous.

You fiddled with the clicker of your pen as you began to speak, doing your best to keep your nervous fidgeting to a minimum. There should be no reason he should have such a knack for making you feel this way, he’s a random guy who takes your same calculus class. Regardless of the way he seems to carry himself, he’s nothing more than that. Some guy.

Besides, he probably wasn’t doing it on purpose. He just has one of those, faces.

“I was just gonna say thanks for agreeing to help me out. Even if it is so early.” You chuckled lightly and brought your hands up to rest on the top of the table.

Enough fidgeting.

“You’re welcome.” Another monotone reply.

You smiled thinly as you waited for him to continue his sentence, cause surely he wasn’t done.

….

Really?

You sat in another few moments of silence while he sighed and looked down at the open pages of his textbook, unable to tell if he was being serious.

“Alright. Why don’t we start with talking about the last lesson you felt most confident in understanding, okay?”

He was being serious.

“Yeah, sure.” You sighed and took a glance down at your notes.

A long hour indeed.

—

It hasn’t even been 20 minutes, yet you’re already starting to get a better grasp on bits of the material you couldn’t even begin to comprehend just a few hours earlier. It certainly isn’t enough to be rid of a tutor, but enough to know you were referred to him for a reason.

Maybe his aloof attitude was worth it.

“Well, that explains why I couldn’t get the numbers to plug in right on that next weird step of the equation. And why it looked so funky when I tried to illustrate the graph. God, that’s a lot.” You stated matter of factly, dumbfounded at how easy he was making this all seem.

“Go ahead and try these other problems from the back of the book, and then we’ll go over what you get after. And if you get stuck just ask. I’m gonna work on some other homework in the meantime.”

His voice had more lilt to it now. Maybe it was because his own version of morning grogginess had warn off. Or he could’ve been just as nervous as you at first. Regardless, you appreciate he seems to be less stiff than when you first percieved him.

You nodded your head and immediately got to work. Having a sudden epiphany about the content was definitely a boost to your motivation to get it done.

He chuckled softly to himself at your eagerness and got started on his own work.

It was nice, actually.

The next few minutes were quiet, but they weren’t awkward. The pair of you having your own focus on the work at hand, merely keeping each other company at this point with the soft scribbles of pencil against paper. That was until you had a question of course.

You looked up to ask him a question but almost felt bad for interrupting him, you could tell he was really focused.

His head was turned downward slightly making his glasses slide farther down the bridge of his nose. His fingers, which you noticed were slightly scuffed up, looked like they were gripping his pen so delicately no matter how fast he was writing. Your eyes followed the trail from his hand up to his shoulder, past the tendons twitching in his forearms at each flick of his wrist, and past his lean yet distinctly toned bicep.

Your gaze stopped on his shoulder when his other hand reached over to squeeze at the apparently tender spot, watching him roll it a few times before he leaned back down to write some more.

His jaw seemed tight, maybe he was having a tough time with this particular class he was working on. Or maybe it was because he appeared to be sore from, something. Taking in his physique and condition of his hands, you decided it wouldn’t be surprising if a sport was what was straini-

“Are you stuck?”

Your eyes shot over just a bit to look directly at his face, realizing you were staring and he probably assumed you needed help, which technically you did.

He was looking up at you above the top of the frame of his glasses and through his eyelashes, eyes just slightly wider than usual as he waited for you to answer.

You had to admit, he was a pretty guy.

“Yeah, kinda. This integral just isn’t clicking for me, I don’t really know where to start.” You held your stare on his face as he leaned in closer to reach over and flip your notebook around, taking a peek at your work thus far.

He hummed almost silently to himself before he spoke up, realizing what was confusing you.

Hm, he smells kind of minty. But not toothpaste minty more like, organic clean minty. Or maybe that’s eucalyptus I’m smelling? I wonder if it’s a cologne or if he just showered before he got here. Jesus, how early would he have to get up to shower before he got here? Cause his hair wasn’t even wet when - well, was it? I could’ve mis-

“Make sense?”

You blinked once, hard, as you internally chastised yourself for being a bit of a creep as you sat analyzing his smell rather than listen to what he had to say.

Nodding your head you stared back down at your paper, contemplating how you were gonna pretend to do better with an equation you didn’t even know where to begin.

“Oh, thank you for agreeing to meet so early, by the way.”

His words caught you off guard as you looked up to see his nose still buried in his work, but his mouth moving.

“I have a team practice in a couple hours and I’m already tutoring someone else afterwards, and this was the only free time I had before your next class.” He looked up at you and offered the tiniest of smiles.

So he did do a sport.

“What do you play?” You asked, genuinely intrigued to know the answer.

His height definitely made him look like a basketball kind of guy, no, you’d know if he played basketball. Maybe soccer.

“Oh, I’m on the volleyball team.” His hand kept its steady pace at writing down notes in his notebook, not even sparing you a glance when he answered.

“Oh wow. How long have you been playing?” You rested your head in your hand, patiently waiting for his response. It was nice to talk about something besides math for a little bit.

“Mmm, I’ve been playing for a good amount of time. This is my first year on the team though, so not long with them I guess. Do you play any sports?” He set his pen down now, rolling his neck out with his eyes closed, leaning back in his chair and waiting for your response this time.

“No, I don’t. My boyfriend plays basketball, though.”

His eyes opened and locked onto yours for a brief moment before looking back down onto that god forbidden work. It was silent for just a second, an unexplainable tension quietly passing between the two of you, so fast you almost missed it, before you spoke up again.

“He’s a sophomore though, so, a little more familiar with his team you could say.” You smile fondly and let out a small chuckle, doing your best to keep the flow of the conversation going,

“He-“

“Hm, nice.” He let out a deep breath and gingerly placed a hand on your notebook, as if he was unaware he cut you off just now, and continued to speak.

Maybe this wasn’t the time for getting to know each other, then.

“Let’s take a look at what you’ve gotten done so far, yeah?”

—

It’s been three days since you last had your first meeting with Tsuki, you hadn’t seen each other since, and yet somehow he was still working you to pieces.

He’d text you around dinner time each day since then like clockwork, just one word:

- ‘Studying?’

- ‘Yes Tsukishima.’

- ‘Good job.’

And it’d be the same thing in the mornings:

- ‘Study guide treat you well?’

- ‘Lol yes Tsukishima. It was actually really helpful so ty :)’

- ‘👍🏼’

I mean, he hand made you study guides to use. And enough of them so that they would last you till he met back up with you on the following Sunday.

It was like he knew you’d feel bad if you didn’t use them and study. But you’d be lying if you said they weren’t helping. You were walking through the door to said class now, and actually feeling semi confident as you sat at your desk and pulled out your belongings, and you had Tsukishima to thank for that.

You noticed it was quiet today as you waited for class to start. October slump was definitely hitting your fellow peers hard, that and the weather. Even your professor was quiet as he walked in and prepared the lesson.

Feeling fatigued and bored yourself, you pulled your phone out to pass the time when you noticed you had a text from Tsukishima still sitting on your lockscreen. It must be pretty recent.

Hm, that’s odd.

Tsukishima

‘Good luck in class today. I hope it all makes a little more sense. :).’

…

A smiley face?

You shut your phone off quickly and shoved it back into your pocket, not particularly fond of the way your heart swelled just the slightest at the fact he texted you.

And remembered you had class today.

And texted you a smiley face at that.

Hm. Looks like he’s warming up to me.

————————

OKOK DONT YELL AT ME AKEKEKE I’m currently writing chapter 3 already ok 😭 i feel like this is kind of short but it just felt weird to do another transition for what I wanted to write rather than just doing a whole chapter and yeah - MIND UR BUSINESS OK I KNOW WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS. Anywayyysss Ahhhh I hope this fed yall well heheheh and you know I love your thoughts and stuff :3 !! MWAH

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq <3 #haikyu x reader #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima x you #OK IM GOING TO BED NOW HEHEHEHE

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beatleszeppelin · 3 years

Text

You're A … Inexperienced

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol' time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 2.1k

Chapter 1: Truth

The night was off to a slow start since you and Daryl had taken watch. The sound of the chain link fence rattling in the wind served as a pendulum in the back of your mind. A chill in the late summer air made the concrete you used as a backrest cool to the touch. Both of you sat against the base of the watchtower on lookout, since the two with the regular shift were on a run.

“Know any games to play to stay awake?” You asked, slumped against a wall, and turning to look at Daryl, who was sitting cross legged, head rested in his hands.

“No,” he replied, “should get some cards or somethin’.”

“Yeah, next time we go into town.”

The night had become dark, no moonlight deciphered the sky from the inside of your eyelids. Time ticked on and before you knew it both of you had fallen asleep.

The rattle of the fence shocked you out of your sleep, and you saw an arm reaching through the fence trying to grab at you. Although a decent distance away, you could still see it’s skin peeled back up to it’s bicep; raw meat dangling behind the wires, so it could fit the exposed bone deeper through the fence.

The growling must have woken Daryl up, because by the time you were standing to go and kill the bloody thing, he had handed you his knife to use. You took it graciously and tiredly walked over to kill it, looking much like a zombie yourself.

Stabbing it through the eye, you could feel the pop of penetration to the skull, and with that it fell to the ground dead, fully dead. With all of its weight moving downwards, the force must have been too much, causing it’s limb to stay on the side of the fence opposite to it’s corpse. You hoped backwards as the appendage reached for your ankle, then shriveled up like the rest of its body.

Returning to your space adjacent to Daryl, you handed his knife back, and sat down breathing heavily.

“You rest, I won’t go back to sleep,” he said leaning on his hip to pull his red rag out from his back pocket. The knife you had used was laying on the ground next to him, beaded with blood.

“No way I’m getting back to sleep, I can hear my blood pounding in my ears.”

“Tell me if you need ta though, ‘cause I’m good,” He said, reassuring you.

You just shook your head and leaned against the wall, propping yourself up with a gun by your side.

You rolled your shoulders back every once in a while to stretch your back. Daryl mindlessly fiddled with a rock that he picked up off the ground. The sky was now dark and all of the stars in the night could be seen. Nothing like this would have ever been possible before. As the stars moved and passed with the coming hours, your tiredness from before seemed to return.

Neither of you had spoken in quite some time, which wasn't weird for you now that you have been taking shifts with Daryl for sometime. At first it was weird doing nothing with him, it was like he wasn't comfortable enough with you to converse, but now you know it's quite the opposite. You guys can communicate by means other than just talking. However, silence needed to be broken if you were going to keep him company until sunrise.

“I miss coffee,” you broke silence, plucking some grass and throwing it past your outstretched feet.

“Huh,” he snickered.

"I don't think I appreciated it before, I don't even remember drinking it that often."

"Don't even remember the last time I had it." He said and spun the little shiny rock he had in his grasp.

“I do,” you said.

He readjusted his position to be facing you holding his knees up to his chest with his chin rested on top. His head tilted down, but his eyes looked up at you to continue.

"Was a date, or not a date, but a meeting. I was out at a cafe, with the TA, for the psych class I was in. And he ordered for us, and after I explicitly told him to get almond milk, he didn't."

"Why?" Daryl asked with conviction.

"Because I'm lactose intolerant and I had to kick him out that night because my stomach hurt so bad." You picked a few sticks up from the ground and broke them into tiny pieces. The stick sprinkled across the ground, and disappeared in the surrounding weeds.

"Didn't mean why are you lactose intolerant, I meant why didn’t he get ya what ya wanted?" He furrowed his brow for a second.

“I don’t know, never thought about it, maybe he’d just forgotten or something. Doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even that good in bed.”

Daryl threw his special rock in the air and caught it swiftly. For just a second it had sparkled in the air, before he held it in his fist like he would never let it go.

“I bet you’ve been on bad dates, too.”

“Nah,” He said and threw his rock across the land and wrapped both his arms around his legs.

“What!? Okay, I guess your fucking perfect,” you said scoffing in a half joking manner.

“No, just didn’t go with too many people.” He mumbled.

“And all of them just happened to be great?” You questioned.

“Never said that,” He tucked his chin under his arms, that still rested on his knees, “I never went on any good ones neither.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe you didn’t date much, I mean, look at you,” you joked, but also couldn’t deny the genuine admiration that he evoked from the people that surrounded him.

“Nah, forget I ever said anythin’. Let’s just go back to sittin’ here.” He turned his head to the side in which the sun would eventually rise.

“No, please, I just came up with a game idea,” you begged.

“Hmm?” He glanced over.

“Truth or dare!” You exclaimed, failing your attempt of hiding your excitement.

“Nuh uh. Not subjecting myself to that shit,” he said tersely.

“Come on, I wanna know about these dates you didn’t go on, and you could dare me to do stupid shit in the mean time,” you said with your shoulders sagging.

“Ain’t gonna ask you nothin’,” he said stubbornly.

“Okay, then it’ll be one-sided truth.” You had as much enthusiasm as a little girl at a sleepover as you asked, “Truth or da…”

“Fine.”

“Okay, when was the last time you got drunk?” you started him off easy.

“Uh… CDC.”

“Wait, the CDC? Like the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta? How have I not heard about this before?” You asked. If this was the easy question,then this game may be more fun than you had previously thought.

“Yeah, stopped there, it’s gone now though,” he said nonchalantly.

“It’s gone? You would think it’d be better guarded or something.” You were astonished by the first question, and immediately got excited for the night to come.

“Blew up. My turn,” he said and pondered for a second, resting his chin on his palms like a winsome child. “What was his name?”

“Who’s name?” You wondered if this was what he was wasting his first question on.

“Coffee date guy,” he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“I don’t remember,” you shrugged.

“That ain’t how this game works,” he argued back with a pout.

“Okay fine, I think his name was Bryce,” you gave up.

“‘S a douchey name.”

“He was a douche… probably dead now.” You looked down at the weeds growing, plucking a few and tying them together, waiting for someone to speak. You looked over at Daryl, who was patiently waiting for his question. He actually looked like he wasn't completely hating this game.

You thought for a minute, wondering how you could crack the boy in front of you. After some thought you said, “What was your first date like?” It was the perfect question, because really you could not imagine what he’d say.

“I told you, never did that type of thing.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth and started rubbing his lip as he talked.

“Okay then, who was the first person you ever did anything romantic with?” you asked.

“‘S not romantic, but there was this one girl that Merle’d bring out drinking with us sometimes. Name was Candy or something.” He mumbled around his thumb.

“Aww, little 20 something Daryl going out with a girl named Candy,” you teased.

“Wasn’t 20, I musta been ‘bout 13 or 14,” he recalled.

“I thought you said you’d go out drinking together?”

“Yeah, we’d go to this bowling alley, ‘cause they don’t card, and they had a pool table and a back room, I used to pay Merle t’ get me drinks.”

“He have to buy her drinks too?” You questioned.

“Nah, she was ‘bout his age I think, and he’d never buy something for someone else,'' he looked off.

“Wait, she was his age, and they let you drink when you were just a kid?” You tried not to chide.

“Hey, ain’t it supposed to be my turn?”

“Sorry,” you stopped.

“You said you were in a psych class, was that what you were gonna be?” He looked interested, as he inquired, studying your face as he awaited your response.

You explained “That’s what I went to school for, but who knows, I minored in fine arts. Truth is I hated psychology, but my parents needed me to make money for myself, otherwise I could have lived happily as a broke artist. Doesn’t really matter now though,” you trailed off. “Speaking of, what were your parents like?”

“Mean, drunk, dead.” He put it bluntly.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t know. How old were you?"

"With my mom, I’s 9. I was out playing with kids from around where I lived. They were all on bikes and wanted to chase this fire engine trying to see somethin’ exciting. I ran behind, and when I caught up I realized it was my house that was on fire. My mom had been smoking in bed."

"I'm really sorry about that, I didn't know about your mom or anything." You looked at him genuinely, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Was a long time ago,” he shrugged off. “Now for you. What art did you do?"

“I drew, painted, took pictures, everything really.” You added kindly.

He tilted his head back until it hit the wall, he stretched out his legs, and looked up at the stars as he said, “I’ll have to see that sometime.” “It’s not like I still have any of them,” you said, perplexed at his interest.

“Oooh, who was your celebrity crush as a kid,” you asked, “like who did you have posters of above your bed?” “Ya’ know Blondie,” he looked over to get your reaction. As he saw you nod, he said “Yeah, had a Debbie Harry poster, ripped out from a magazine.”

You laughed, and the questions continued; some questions resulted in stories others sat in stillness. The morning was short to come as the warm glow of the sun peered over the trees, and chirping birds made themselves present.

“Okay, what was your first time like?” you pestered.

You were met with a second of awkward silence, before he stumbled over the phrases “ I never, I mean… I did, it wasn’t like that though.” He brought his thumb up to his mouth again.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re a…” he dipped his head down, and looked up at you through his hair. A sickly puppy could make your heart hurt any more, so you danced around your initial wording and asked “uhh, inexperienced?”

“Morning!” sang through the fields, and Daryl had been saved by the bell. Carol stood alongside Carl to take over for the morning shift, and relieve Daryl of his painted flush. She extended her hand out first to you, helping you up. Then to Daryl, letting the hand holding linger as she instructed for you guys to go get some rest.

The walk up was silent, but just before parting you joked with him “If you ever need some more experience, you know where my cell is.” You had said it quiet enough where he could ignore it, but you knew he heard it, because he silently split, seconds after you said it.

#the walking dead #twd #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #carol peletier #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfic #there will be more parts #I am almost done writing it #get ready for some awkward daryl

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marmosa · 4 years

Text

it takes two.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: a little 18+ humor at a point, but it’s pretty low-key.

A/N: this had some anti-olives discourse and i’m not sorry about it olives r fcking nasty. also [y/n]’s smell is daisy love by marc jacobs for reference, it’s a perfume i really like but i was like there is no way anyone knows what a fucking cloudberry is, so next time you’re at sephora or sumthin go get a whiff of it, it’s lovely. anywho hope you guys like it, i had tons of fun writing the banter in this one, hope it turned out as nice as i thought :) p.s i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance <3

***

[y/n] hated potions. She hated it more than anything else on this planet and that was saying something considering olives were literally out there existing. Potions shouldn’t have been such a hard class for her, not when she had no problem in her other classes, and certainly not when all it included was following a damned recipe.

Which explained why she wanted to drive a dagger through her skull when Professor Snape announced they’d be spending the next few days preparing to brew amortentia. Not only was the romantic part of it so nerve wracking it made the entire class nauseous, but the prospect of messing it up and not smelling anything at all was even worse (for those who cared, at least).

“You’re dismissed. Make sure to study up on the potion before hand or you’ll sorely regret it,” Snape called out to the class in that tone of his voice that sounded like rancid milk. Was it mentioned that [y/n] also hated Snape? Yeah that too.

As [y/n] packed up her things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m not the devil, I know you lot think ginger’s are evil, but I can assure you I am no devil,” Fred shook his head displeasingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against her desk, “Also, what a way to great someone, sheesh woman, you’d think you’d be more excited to see me.”

“Okay, firstly, there was no need for that whole spiel,” [y/n] held her hands up defensively, “Secondly, I only said that because I was just thinking about you before you arrived.”

Fred rolled his eyes at her back-tracking, but smiled smugly none-the-less, “Aww you were thinking of me? Nothing too naughty I hope,” he winked.

[y/n] flipped her bag shut and looked up at him with a deadpan expression, reaching up and punching his shoulder, “you wish, Weasley. The only naughty thing I’d be caught doing with you is tying you up to turn you in to the police.”

“Tying me up? Didn’t take you as the type for that sort of thing,” Fred grinned, biting back another remark as he watched her groan in annoyance but refuse to make eye contact with him, “but honestly, what were you thinking about?”

“Well,” [y/n] began, pulling at his sleeve to get him to follow her out of class, “You know we have this amortentia potion coming up and I’m doing shit in this class, but I was thinking you could help me study since you have a track record of being good in this class?”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered the offer, shrugging, “what’s in it for me?”

“You get to spend time with me?” [y/n] smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes dramatically to emphasize the effect.

“That’s a shit deal,” Fred chuckled, raising his brows with a small grin at [y/n]’s frown.

“Yeah, it is,” [y/n] sighed, an idea popping into her head, “but if I brewed it successfully you’d get to find out who I fancy, I know you’ve been poking around there because you’re an nosy git who won’t leave me alone about it.”

Fred scoffed in mock offense, tilting his head to the side, “Rude, but not false. Y’know, that does spice up the offer, but what’s stopping me from just finding out by having you smell someone else’s brew? And who’s to say I’m gonna know who smells like that anyway?”

“You’re so difficult,” [y/n] groaned, sinking her shoulders, “you know what, just forget it. I’ll go bother George or something, y’know the better twin.”

Fred’s smile fell as he screwed his features together, ”Excuse me? You’ve got some nerve you little-,”

“I don’t-woah!” [y/n] yelped as Fred tackled her to the side of the empty hall, trapping her against the wall, his hand planted to the side of her head and his other arm situated above her head.

“Take it back,” Fred demanded, giving her a once over, amused at the way she silently reeled over the position she’d just been put into.

“And why should I?” [y/n] snapped back, staring right back at him as soon as she’d gotten her bearings.

“Take it back,” Fred repeated simply, his voice low as he tried to coax his desired response out of her.

“Again, why should I?” [y/n] hummed, relaxing against the wall and looking at him with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes and straightened himself back up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, “you’re no fun, you know exactly why.”

“No I don’t,” [y/n] continued, chimed in amusement, “do you think George isn’t as good as you?”

“Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Fred snipped, “you know just as well as I do that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” [y/n] shrugged, biting back a laugh at Fred’s less than amused expression, “I’ll cut you a deal. You help me with potions and I don’t tell George your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not-,” Fred groaned, his argumentative spirit draining out of his body as his will to spend time with her won out, “Fine. But if you ever tell a lie like that to George, I’ll feel no remorse telling everyone and their mother that you like being tied up for fun.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” [y/n] hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s true,” Fred teased, his smirk falling when she remained silent, “No way, [y/n] that’s got to be a lie.”

“So what if it isn’t? You’ll never know,” [y/n] giggled, biting back a smile.

“Now wait a minute-,” Fred began, startled at this random piece of questionable information, but was cut off as they arrived at [y/n]’s class.

“It was lovely chatting with you, but I will have to see you later,” [y/n] hummed playfully, giving him a quick hug before darting into her classroom leaving a shocked Fred to himself, “bye Freddie!”

***

“Do you think Fred likes me?” [y/n] rolled onto her stomach and looked over at her friend expectantly, bumping her ankles together to distract her from the rapid beating of her heart.

Nadya tossed her books to the side and slid her legs off the side of her bed, leaning forward to try and be level with [y/n], “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“What!” [y/n] scoffed, pouting, “it’s an honest question!”

“Of all things holy,” Nadya groaned, burying her face in her hands, “Of course he likes you? You really asked him to be your homework helper and he said yes. Who in their right mind willingly studies for potions?”

[y/n] chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding along, “You are absolutely correct. But like, if he doesn’t, isn’t it going to backfire on me when he realizes I smell him in the amortentia potion?”

“Bold of you to assume that any man knows what he smells like,” Nadya chuckled, “Remember in grade school when the boys would wear that atrocious body spray? It was ghastly.”

“Again, you’re absolutely correct. But Fred has like a distinct smell, it’s like camp fires, caramel, and fire-whiskey,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself bask in the though of how lovely he was, “it’s wonderful.”

“Kinda creepy that you know how specific it is,” Nadya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side to avoid [y/n]’s flat glare.

“Oh yeah because yesterday you totally weren’t telling me about Sam’s ‘absolutely magical eyes’, your words not mine,” [y/n] hummed, a smug smile drawing itself across her lips.

“You’re a twat,” Nadya snapped back, rolling her eyes, “back to you, aren’t you suppose to meet him in the library in like 5 minutes?”

[y/n] glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and nearly feel onto the floor running to get her stuff, “Shit! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because you were too busy talking about what Fred smelled like,” Nadya deadpanned, taking her turn to smile smugly.

“I would wipe that stupid look off your face if I wasn’t running late,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes teasingly, grabbing her textbooks, “see you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner,” Nadya affirmed, waving goodbye.

***

“Took you long enough,” Fred lulled, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m surprised you were here on time, especially for something as boring as homework,” [y/n] replied, setting all her stuff down and sliding into the seat across from him.

Fred looked at her dumbly, wanting to snap back but not knowing how to without admitting he was just excited to see her, “Shut up. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who asked for my help?”

[y/n] leaned her cheek onto her balled up fist and exhaled deeply, “Touché. You’re a handful Weasley.”

“You love it though,” He hummed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That I do,” [y/n] chuckled, kicking his ankles playfully under the table.

“Well, if you need my help it’s counter productive to do it across from me isn’t it? You don’t want to be swinging a book around over and over again,” Fred mentioned while flipping through his own textbook to find the lesson.

“That’s a good point,” [y/n] shrugged, pushing all her stuff to the other side of the table and switching her seat, glancing over at his book to note the page number, “Y’know, I actually really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, volunteer work is important after all,” Fred teased, quickly back-tracking when she stared back at him blankly, “Kidding! You know I’ll always make time for you,” he mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

[y/n] rolled her eyes and pretended to fish around her bag so he wouldn’t notice the embarrassed look on her face, “Thanks. Same for you.”

Fred chuckled softly, leaning his cheek onto his fist to watch her silently, admiring the way she looked out of uniform in her favorite sweater and pair of jeans. She practically glowed in the low light of the library, her hands constantly pushing a fly away of hair out of her face, her face screwing up in an adorable sort of annoyance. He was smitten, no doubt about it, and honestly- he was okay with that.

“What’re you looking at?” [y/n] muttered, catching his unwavering stare.

“Nothing, you’ve just got an eyelash on your face,” Fred played it off nonchalantly, reaching forward and brushing off the imaginary eyelash.

[y/n] tried her absolute best not to combust right then and there, thanking him quietly before redirecting his attention to the work, “So, what do you say we start here? The measurements are rather odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Fred bit back a smile and nodded, amused at the loss of her fiery attitude, his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

“Yeah, they are.”

***

“Fuck!”

Nadya glanced up from the journal sitting in her lap, the pair of eyes she was sketching seemingly following along with her as she located [y/n] standing in front of the mirror, looking ready to fall apart.

“What’s all this about then?” Nadya inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re making the potions today and it didn’t seem like a big deal two days ago but the anxiety has finally caught up to me and I feel truly sick,” [y/n] shuddered, jumping up and down in place to try and shake out her prickling nerves.

“I know you’re worried, but what are the chances of anyone knowing what that smell is? By the way you described it, it’s so painfully specific that only someone who’s known him for ages would know,” Nadya reassured her panicking friend, smiling softly.

“I know, but what if-,”

“If you keep talking yourself into believing it you’re gonna be miserable. Just breath, go do your best, and have fun. Nothing will go wrong,” Nadya explained calmly, knowing just how much of a busy-brain [y/n] could get.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m only gonna make myself feel worse. I’ll stop, thanks Nadya,” [y/n] padded over and gave her a quick hug, “see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Nadya nodded, waving her goodbye.

***

“You’ve all finished brewing your amortentia I presume,” Snape spoke in that nasally tone of his, glowering at the class.

The class replied with a cacophony of “yes’s”, the anxiety of each person literally rolling off the walls in waves. People who had a fancy in that class practically had a neon sign above their heads that said so, while those who didn’t sat back and relaxed in peace as they pondered their grade.

[y/n] glanced over at Fred who caught her gaze, passing her an enthusiastic thumbs up, which she returned happily despite the knots forming in her stomach.

“Well then, if you’re done, get into your groups and test it out. Remember if you smell nothing that it doesn’t mean you failed the potion, you must reference the check list of properties before coming to a conclusion,” Snape explained, folding his hands behind his back, “is that clear?”

The class responded with “yes’s” once more and in an instant the room was bustling as the groups got to smelling their potions to test out the initial effects. [y/n]’s group agreed that they’d go clock-wise, leaving her last to test out the potion.

“It smells like honey, baked goods, and lavender,” Charlie spoke up, his cheeks tinging red as he probably registered quite who the scent was probably related to.

“That’s a lovely combination,” Dina nodded, leaning forward and taking a whiff of their own brew, “truly I can’t smell much but there is a faint note of citrus,” they shrugged.

[y/n] and Timothy exchanged knowing glances, a fancy probably developing in Dina’s life that they hadn’t quite registered yet.

“My turn,” Timothy exhaled, nodding stiffly as if to reassure himself as he smelled the potion. His eyes nearly popped out his head as he took a step back fanning his face slightly, “that has got to be the strongest smell of herbs I’ve ever smelled- he’s probably been spending extra time in the Green Room, that twat.”

The group broke into laughter as he gracefully excused himself to go stand outside to let the smell filter out of his nose. As soon as he’d left, the group look at [y/n] expectantly, all excited to hear what she smelled.

[y/n] swallowed thickly and leaned over her pot, her nerves finally spiking as she took a whiff of the brew. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she finally registered the smell, her face growing hot, as an embarrassed expression pulled itself onto her features- of course it was him.

“So, what did you smell?” Dina chirped enthusiastically, leaning against the table.

“Yeah [y/n], what did you smell?”

[y/n] felt her heart drop to her feet, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and into the pot in front of her. Of course he was going to ask.

“You did promise you’d tell me,” Fred smirked, leaning against the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That I did,” [y/n] chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll cut you a deal this time. You tell me what you smelled and I’ll tell you what I did,” Fred offered, raising his brows to emphasize his tantalizing offer.

“Deal,” [y/n] nodded, rolling her shoulder a few times, “I smelled a camp fire, caramel, and fire whiskey.”

Charlie and Dina exchanged wide eyed glances, quietly agreeing that the smell was certainly unique and equally lovely before excusing themselves to go get a final grade from Snape.

“What a unique smell,” Fred hummed, eyeing her groupmates oddly “Guess I have to hold up my end of the bargain then. I couldn’t really tell you the specifics, but definitely berries, daisies, and driftwood.”

“That’s even more unique than mine, whoever you smelled sure does have a refined palette,” [y/n] giggled, calming down as she realized Fred had no clue who she was talking about with her own smell.

“She sure does. I think it’s her perfume or something, she wears it everyday so I recognized it almost immediately,” Fred chuckled, shrugging, “But fire whiskey, I truly wonder who that could be, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to tell me? Would you?” he bat his eyelashes innocently.

“In your dreams Weasley,” [y/n] huffed, shoving him playfully.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Fred pouted, turning so his elbows were leaned onto the table behind him.

“You know I’m only keeping it from you for my own sanity,” [y/n] chuckled, reaching over and shaking his shoulder softly.

Fred chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing in the opposite direction from her, his mind clouded with doubt, wondering who this mystery person could possibly be- praying to everything holy that there was even a possibility of it being him.

Unbeknownst to him, [y/n]’s internal dialogue was practically doing the same thing trying desperately to put a person to the smell he describe but coming up empty, her heart sinking slightly while she admonished herself for getting her hopes up too fast.

“Well, you know I’m not gonna give up until I find out. I’ll sniff everyone in our year if it means getting my answer,” Fred teased, winking at her.

“That’s so creepy, you’ll be lucky if you can even get close enough to smell your own brother,” [y/n] laughed, letting her head roll forward slightly.

“Whatever you say,” Fred hummed, shimmying his shoulders to a silent tune, “better go get that grade of yours then, we didn’t do all that studying for nothing.”

“We might’ve since you couldn’t tell who I smelled,” [y/n] bit back a laugh when Fred glared back at her.

“You’re a twat.”

“I know.”

***

“Nadya! My dearest darling companion to ever to walk this planet, do you happen to know anyone who smells like caramel and fire whiskey?” Fred asked, throwing his arms around the two girls.

Nadya nearly spilled her drink at Fred’s sudden appearance, which didn’t particularly go down well with her, “Fred if you scare us like that again I’m going to hex you so severely you’ll be stuck in the infirmary trying to figure out how to get your wand out of your arse.”

Fred’s face drained of all it’s color (if that was even possible, being as pale as he already was), “Sorry Nadya, my bad.”

[y/n] stifled a laugh, continuing to munch on her piece of chicken, ignoring Nadya’s side eye that practically screamed “handle your own boyfriend”.

“But back to your question, I can’t say that I do, who do you have in mind so far?” Nadya humored him, trying her best to give leeway to both her best friend and her best friend’s crush.

“Well, as [y/n] so wisely said, it’s too creepy to go around and sniff people, so I’m just going off of hunches. Oliver seems like a likely candidate and so does Casper, but I’m still not sure,” Fred sighed, obviously already impatient in his search.

Nadya glanced over at [y/n] who was all to comfortable pretending she wasn’t a part of the conversation, happily sipping at her cider.

“I’m not gonna say anything, you can search for as long as you’d like, I’m not budging,” [y/n] shook her head, smiling all too amused, patting Fred’s head patronizingly.

“You’re no fun,” Fred pouted, huffing and standing back straight, dusting off the invisible dust on his robes, “Well since I’m not gonna get an answer out of either you, I’ll take my search elsewhere, see you around.”

“Bye Freddie,” [y/n] chirped, waving goodbye to him, “So you were right.”

Nadya broke into laughter, elbowing [y/n] playfully, “I told you! You got so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten close to an answer.”

“Casper, he really thinks I’d like Casper? He’s lovely and all but imagine having to sit through him telling you about how handsome he is? That sounds absolutely awful,” [y/n] shook her head, giggling at the thought.

“I truly think he’s just lying to himself at this point, there’s no way he’d be that dumb,” Nadya claimed, refiling her cup.

“I think so too, you know Fred though, he love’s a good challenge,” [y/n] shrugged, taking another bite of her chicken, “well have to see.”

***

“Okay, I think I’ve figured it out!”

[y/n] groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes, sinking as far as she could into the couch that she thought was tucked at the very back corner of the library, “please, it’s been nearly two days! You haven’t given it up yet?”

“Not at all, it’s fun, irritating, but fun,” Fred beamed, skipping over and plopping down next to her on the couch, “See I think I’ve narrowed the search down to these three guys.”

[y/n] glanced down at the small sheet of paper he held out to her and then back at him, a tired sag in her eyes as she felt guilt start to push against her chest. Maybe she was in the wrong for letting him run around and play a fruitless guessing game that she knew he would probably never get the answer to.

“I’m thinking if you give me another clue, I could zero it down to-,”

“It’s not them Fred.”

Fred fell quiet as [y/n] pushed his hand down, taking the paper and tossing it on the small table to her side, pushing his fingers into a small fist that she held gingerly, “It’s not anyone you’ve guessed.”

[y/n] sighed and swallowed her nerves, deciding it was now or never, that if she didn’t say something now she would be tormented by regret and Fred’s relentless guesses for the rest of her life.

“It’s no one you know because,” [y/n] looked away, literally incapable of meeting the wide inviting look he was giving her right then, “it’s you Fred. I like you.”

When she was met with silence, the rock finally started to settle at the pit of her stomach, her brows knitting together as she bit back her bubbling emotions. She tried to pull her hand back but had it quickly snatched back by Fred who had threaded their fingers together.

“I knew it,” He grinned, cupping her face with one hand and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against hers extremely gentle for how abrupt the kiss had been.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide before sinking shut, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. They sat like that for a while, the quite chatter of the other students background noise to the gentle kisses they passed between one another, the pent up impatience and nervousness draining out of them with each and every kiss.

The two of them finally pulled away, a red hue fanned over Fred’s face, his freckles even more noticeable now that she was up this close.

“Shit, I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, did I?” Fred mumbled bumping his forehead against hers, squeezing their still intertwined hands.

“It’s okay, at least I kissed back, yeah?” [y/n] whispered, thumbing over the small scar on his cheek, probably from a quidditch match.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be better about it though,” Fred promised, tilting his head to the side to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Me too,” [y/n] smiled, adoration practically rolling off of her in waves, “wait- what did you mean you knew it?”

Fred pulled back and sat up straight, his lips pressed together so tightly he was practically forcing all the blood out of them, “Well, I kind of already knew from the time your tablemates sort of left us alone in potions. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

[y/n] felt her face fall, her mouth getting stuck open in an o shape, as she stared at him dumbly, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately no,” Fred giggled, placing both of his hands on the sides of her face, “don’t be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, just disappointed in myself, that shit’s embarrassing for me!” [y/n] groaned, placing her hands on top of his.

“Well it all worked out in the end didn’t it?” Fred chimed, his lips stretching out into a grin.

“I suppose it did,” [y/n] hummed thoughtfully.

“Now the real question is how you didn’t know what your own perfume smelled like,” Fred quipped, immediately bouncing back to teasing her.

“Oh for god’s sake, do I look like I research perfume scents in my free time?” [y/n] scoffed.

“A little bit,” Fred muttered.

“You know what never mind, don’t you ever try to kiss me again,” [y/n] shoved him off her playfully, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now don’t be like that,” Fred groaned, crawling over to her.

“Nuh uh, nope,” [y/n] shook her head, sticking out her legs in a feeble attempt to stop his advance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, too late, come here.”

“I said no- fine! Fine, goodness gracious.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, now give me another kiss before you have to go back to doing boring homework.”

“Fine.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#hogwarts #harry potter #fred weasley imagines #mar writes

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

Note

Ty for answering that -w- I wanted to make sure of your comfort zones before I asked this. What are your HC for when some of our favorite UA teachers realize they have a thing for a student (who they may or may not have realized have a crush on them back)

Ofc! I should make an official list of thing I’m comfy writing/uncomfy writing <:3c

Anyhoo! I’m assuming our fav teachers are the same, but in case not, this post includes Aizawa, Yamada, and Yagi!

Warnings: Depictions of student x teacher! This is a work of fiction, and in no way represents how I feel about the matter irl. Please read at your own discretion.

AIZAWA SHOUTA|ERASERHEAD

-He has an ‘oh fuck’ moment XD

-At first you were just one of his most tolerable students; kind, hardworking, level headed. He sees a lot of potential in you, so he does his best to train you well.

-You have a habit of always wishing him a good afternoon when class is over and you’re headed out the door. He keeps a straight face, but deep down he finds it charming that you always take the time to say goodbye.

-Probably doesn’t realize how deep his feelings for you actually run until you’re older, maybe a second or third year. You come back to his classroom after summer break, and the moment you walk in the door, laughing with a few friends, his heart clenches in his chest. It fucks him up for the rest of the lesson.

-I think he’d let it stew for a while, anger and shame pressing at the back of his mind. Every day he sees you he falls deeper, whether you’re laughing and smiling with friends, or concentrating hard while studying, or even just meandering around the campus. Everything about you draws him in.

-He’d never act on his feelings, not while you’re a student. Besides the fact that he could lose his job if you got caught, he wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize your future. He cares about you too much, and you’ve worked too hard to have it ruined.

-Until he notices you staring at him in class. The moment he catches your eye, you look away and pretend to be interested in something else, but that specific moment sticks out in his mind. It’s the first of many.

-Sometimes you fluster when you get caught looking at him, other times you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realize he figured you out. It’s usually when you’re daydreaming that Aizawa gets a good look at you; pretty features, soft skin, cute lips wrapped around the end of your pencil as you think about him-

-The moment the bell sings and everyone starts leaving for the day, he beckons you over. Probably sprouts some kind of nonsense about how you’re distracted in class, and how you need to pay more attention or your grades will start to suffer. It’s complete bullshit, but coming from him it sounds serious.

-At least, it would to anyone else but you.

-You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back casually and swinging your legs, and you look at him in a way that almost makes him feel like prey.

- “If my grades suffer, you could always give me some extra credit~” you say with a coy smile.

He’s deadpan as always when he replies, “Your grades haven’t dipped. Not yet, at least. This is a warning, Y/N.”

You pout a little, and sigh. You’re obviously dejected about something, but he’s got no idea why you’d be sad about having good grades...

“Pity,” you mumble, “a private tutoring session could have been fun.”

-You slide off his desk and make your way towards the door, and only then does it click for him. You like him, the same way he likes you.

-He calls out to you right before you slide the door open, and motions you back over. You huff and do as he says, and move to sit back on his desk, but just as you’re getting settled, he reaches forward and pulls you into his lap. It feels a little awkward at first, while you squirm and get comfortable, but once you find a good seat it’s actually pretty comfortable.

-You’ve got an arm tossed over his shoulders, and you’re leaning against his chest with your face tucked up by his neck. He resists a shudder at the feeling of your warm breath against his skin, instead looping an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

- “You’ve been flirting with me,” he says, and it’s not a question.

He can feel a smile break out across your face, before your lips press tenderly against his throat. “I have been for the past eight months, but thanks for noticing.”

He deadpans and pinches your thigh gently, earning a muffled squeak from you, a noise he decides he likes very much.

-But the overall question looms over him. What to do now? He didn’t want to put your future at risk, not to simply sate his own desires. He loved you too much to do that to you.

- “We can’t do this,” he says, and he feels you freeze against him. “Not yet, at least.” He feels you relax.

“I figured as much,” you grumble, but there’s no malice in your tone. “I’m gonna wait for you, you know that, right? The moment I graduate, I’m jumping you. I see the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching; you want me just as much as I want you.”

-He doesn’t deny it, simply holds you tighter.

-You smile softly and take his face in your hands. “If it’s gonna be a while until we can do this again, then...a kiss for the road?”

-It’s sweet, and warm, and a little bit desperate. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone with him like this, and you’re spectacularly warm and pliant. It’s not a kiss he’ll soon forget, and will only serve to make you both yearn for more, but it’s worth it to feel your lips against his.

-You keep things on the down low after that, sneaking conversations here and there and whenever you can. He gives you his phone number in case you ever need anything, but you mostly use it to send him cat memes and suggestive texts.

-He scolds you every single time, but you both know his heart isn’t in it.

-He takes you out on an official date not three days after your graduate.

YAMADA HIZASHI|PRESENT MIC

-Unlike Aizawa, he does not have an ‘oh fuck’ moment. His feelings for you culminate slowly, and he’s quite aware of them, just the same as he’s aware of your feelings.

-He notices your lingering glances, small smiles, and cheerful greetings whenever he’s around. You’re not obvious about it, not being more than friendly from everyone else’s point of view, but he’s perceptive, especially when it comes to people.

-A little piece of him hopes you get over your crush on him, so that he in turn could get over you too, but the big emotions part of his heart wants you to keep loving him in hopes that he might have you some day.

-He tries rationalizing it when he’s on his own, telling himself that he’s really not that much older than you, and that he’s seen larger age gaps, and that after you graduate you’ll just be another hero. He knows he shouldn’t be harboring such strong feelings for one of his students, which is why he doesn’t tell anyone, but he figures that as long as he doesn’t act on it then no one will get hurt.

-But it’s very hard. By the time you’re in your third year, you’re openly flirting with him. He doesn’t necessarily encourage it, but he doesn’t dissuade it either. If anyone ever questions him on the matter, he’ll say that he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or embarrass you so it’s best to let you work through your feelings on your own.

-He absolutely plays favourites, though. He only calls on you in class when he knows you know the answer to something, and always offers helpful advice about your classes when he’s able to. Some of your classmates grumble about ‘special treatment’ but none of them take it any further than that.

-It all comes to a head one rainy afternoon when he finds you curled up under a tree, looking very, very sad. He hasn’t got anywhere to be, but even if he did, he’d still come over. You’re still his student, even on weekends, and he cares about you a lot.

-You’re surprised when the rain suddenly stops dripping on you, and you look up to find Yamada holding an umbrella over your head, while the rain starts to soak him. You scold him lightly, complaining that you’re already wet so it doesn’t matter if you don’t have an umbrella. He has none of it though, and offers a hand to you.

-He pulls you to your feet and carefully arranges the umbrella so you’re both under it, and after a couple beats of silence, he finally asks what’s got you looking so down.

-You fidget a little, chewing your lip in consideration and wringing your hands. But you’re almost a graduate, you tell yourself, so it shouldn’t matter now if he knows. You’re pretty certain he likes you back, anyways, but on the off chance he doesn’t, you can cope with a month or so of awkwardness.

-You sigh deeply, and explain to him that your classmates were teasing the shit out of your earlier, on a subject that is very near and dear to your heart. You’d had enough of their antics, so you’d left to dorms to get some fresh air, and it had started raining. You’d hoped to get some respite beneath a tree, to no avail.

-He looks you up and down quickly, just now fully realizing how soaked you were. Your clothes cling to your skin in a way he never sees you dress, and it’s a little unsettling how something so mundane gets his heart racing.

-But he pushes through, and rests a hand on your shoulder, going on about how other people’s opinions can hurt but ultimately don’t matter, and that it’s most important how you feel about yourself. He tells you that you’re deserving of kindness and respect, and praises you lightly for being his favourite student and a bright young hero.

-Less than two seconds after he finishes speaking, your lips are on his. Soft and damp, and your fingertips are cool against his jaw where you’re holding him, but he doesn’t mind. Not in the slightest. He drops the umbrella in lieu of gripping at your hips, pulling you flush against him so he can kiss you back.

-You stay there for a few moments, rain soaking further and further into your clothes as your lips mold and slide against each other. He has half a mind to push you back against the nearest surface and deepen the kiss, but he remember that you’re still in public, and you’re still his student.

-He pulls away slowly, grinning inwardly when he sees how breathless and hazy you are. He presses one last kiss against your nose, before he’s grabbing the umbrella off the ground and tugging you along.

- “That can’t happen again,” he tells you, “Not while you’re still a student here. Okay?”

You begrudgingly agree, even though you know it’s for the best. you really do love him, and you don’t want him to lose his job -or worse- over something like this.

“Understood,” you mumble sadly. “I’ll try to get over it, and I’ll stop flirting with you in class.”

-He tilts his head slightly, a questioning gesture, and gently laces his fingers with yours. Just once, out here in the rain, where no one can see.

“I said ‘while you’re a student’,” his tone is playful. “Sweetheart, the moment you graduate, I’m wining and dining you like it’s nobody’s business.”

-Your heart soars after that, and your anticipation for what’s to come makes your last month of school -and your friends’ teasing- more bearable. That, and the fact that you get to text him whenever you feel like, and how your sweet private conversations. He chides you when you get too lewd about something, either in your words or in photos you send him, and tells you to be patient.

-By the time you graduate, you’re just about ready to say fuck it and dive on him, but he beats you to the punch. After the official ceremony, he scoops you up and spins you around a couple times, asking you how it feels to be an official hero.

-You simply kiss him.

YAGI TOSHINORI|ALL MIGHT

-Most concerned out of the bunch. He’s got one hell of an image to uphold, and he never wants to put any of his students in harms way. He probably notices really early on the way his heart flutters around you, the way his stomach twists up in knots when he hears you laugh, the way it’s hard to breathe when he watches you train. Ngl, it scares him a bit.

-Having feelings like that is one thing, but having feelings like that for a student? That’s got bad news written all over it. And it’s especially bad when he realizes you don’t treat him like you do your other teachers; you’re kinder, softer, more interested in lessons.

-Sure, you could just think he was a good teacher, but he’s had many a people crushing on him over the years, so he knows the signs. You like him.

-He hides himself away from you at first, keeping you at an arms length, a curt distance, a professional ways away. He realizes that he may be coming off a little harshly towards you, often keeping any one on one time to a minimum and overlooking you in class.

-You thought he felt bad for liking you? Look how shitty he feels when he realizes he’s made you sad. The day you seek him out after class and ask him why he dislikes you so much, it feels like someone has stepped on his heart and ground it into the pavement with their heel.

-The way you hold yourself to appear smaller and less threatening, the way you avoid his gaze like you’re afraid of his judgement. He decides then and there to be honest with you. You’re almost done your second year in school, so you’re a little more mature, a little more capable of handling what he has to tell you.

-And tell you he does. He explains the way you make him happy, how he enjoys your company, how your smile warms his heart. He also tells you about the guilt he feels for looking at a student in such a way, and how he wouldn’t be offended if you never wanted to speak with him again.

-You, of course, have not been subtle about your feelings towards him. Strange as the situation is, it’s comforting to know he thinks of you the same way. You take his hand gently, marveling a little at how it dwarfs yours, and assure him that you don’t think less of him, even if he thinks you should.

-You can tell that he’s genuine and serious about having feelings for you. You’d never want to put him at risk for anything, so you quietly ask him if he’d be willing to wait for you, until you graduate. After that, you’ll no longer be his student, there’ll no longer be any risk associated with your relationship, and you can be together.

-He’s got his reservations still, but you talk about it more throughout the months, convincing him by the beginning of your third year to pursue something more after you finish school. Once that’s decided, he finds it difficult to keep you at an appropriate distance, but he does his best. From time to time he’ll keep you after class to ask how things are going, how you’re doing, etc. almost always ending with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

-From the outside, it looks like you’ve patched up whatever hole was formed between you, with only the two of you sharing knowing and longing glances across the room. He tutors you and gives you extra lessons when he’s able to, wanting to make sure you come out of this with as much skill as possible.

-The year is long and every day is more difficult that the last, but the weekend after you graduate, the two of you are curled up on his couch watching a movie after eating dinner, sharing sweet kisses and basking in each other’s presence.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #all might x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Anonymous

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gaemkyuu · 3 years

Text

Loved.

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive boyfriend (Not Charlie) A/N: This is a personal piece of something I went through. Not all the details disclosed on this piece happened to me, but they have happened to people I love. Something we connected on was that one person came into our lives and became the light that we needed to get out of our situation. Charlie isn’t meant to portray the image of a false hero, but rather a light and a starting point. A second chapter will be made.

If you or someone you love is suffering from abuse, you are not alone. We hear you, we love you and we can help you. Reach out of the dark. Step into your greatness. Stand Tall.

Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Loved.

Kaia paused to take a sip of water. Carrying around boxes and furniture was proving to be difficult with the hot LA sun. She was used to super sunny days with a cool breeze or rainy cloudy days up in Vancouver. Moving countries hadn’t been easy, what with the paperwork and everything, but here she was. Starting a life in LA, the city where people come to make their dreams happen.

“How you doin’?” the girl jump at the sound of a male voice and turned to see a very good looking guy leaning on her fence. His beautiful eyes and contagious smile caused her to smile back at him. He seemed genuine and something deep inside told her he was good.

“I’m hoping you’re the person that lives beside me, otherwise I may have to call the cops” the male chuckled at her response and shook his head.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood. Me and my roommates live right beside you. Are you new to LA?” Kaia knew she shouldn’t get caught chatting away with the male, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. She knew that bad neighbours could make your life a living hell, plus being new to the country meant that she had no friends. Might as well start somewhere right?

“New to the country actually, I’m from Vancouver” Judging by the way his eyes grew to the size of saucers, she assumed that he might be a fellow Canadian too. It would be nice to have someone who understands the culture shock as a friend. “Parles-tu francais?” she sheepishly asked.

“Oui! J’suis de Dieppe!” Kaia let out a big laugh. She very rarely heard that dialect of french and it felt funny to her ears. She blushed when she realized how hard she was laughing.

“Sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you or anything. I’ve rarely heard an Acadien speak french and it sounds a little funny to me” she scratched her neck in slight embarrassment. The male seemed to bite his lip and she couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eyes, confirming that he wasn’t offended. “So what brought you here?”

“I’m an actor. What about you?”

“I moved down here with my boyfriend, he’s actually a local” she saw a small look of disappointment cross his unusually bright features, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. She could hear her boyfriend’s voice growing louder as he approached the entrance of the house. “Do you live by yourself? Or?”

“I live with my roommates, all of whom are girls with boyfriends” she giggled at his predicament but found it interesting.

“Too much estrogen I take it?” he rolled his eyes in confirmation and she laughed again at his reaction.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. But they’re pretty awesome, so I can’t complain” he opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted at a booming voice. She continued to chat with the man about the neighbourhood and life in LA in general. It felt nice to Kaia that someone was also weirded out by all the fake grass lawns and garbage on the streets. The conversation was flowing naturally and she was very engaged that she didn’t notice another person in the house growing impatient.

“Kaia!” She quickly turned around to her boyfriend, who was motioning her over. He looked irritated and upset, something she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with. She opened her mouth to explain herself as her new neighbour waved, but he interrupted her. “Let’s go!”

“Sorry, the heat’s making him a little grumpy. Thank you for welcoming us to the neighbourhood. It was really nice chatting with you” she smiled as her boyfriend marched back into the house. “I’m Kaia by the way, but you can call me Kai”

“Charlie. Charlie Gillespie. It was nice to meet you Kai, pass the welcome on to your boyfriend from us. See you around?” she smiled softly and waved goodbye as he made his way over to the front door. When he was out of sight, she took a deep breath preparing herself for the inevitable conversation with her boyfriend.

Who’s that? You’ve been flirting for half an hour. I wasn’t flirting. He’s our neighbour. Don’t lie to me, Kaia. I’m not. Listen, I moved you down here to be with me. Last time I checked, I moved down to start my career. Don’t. Sass. Me. Kaia. I’m sorry. Remember. You’re here because I let you. Don’t forget that.

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks later. Her boyfriend and her had a big argument, so she was de-stressing the only way she knew how, making music. She was sure that at some point, someone in the neighbourhood would make a noise complaint, but right now, she could care less. She filled track after tracking, replaying what she had already made and what she had added. Kaia often poured her soul into her music, something she felt was therapeutic.

It had always been Kaia’s dream to move down to LA and pursue a music career. So when she finished her music program in Vancouver, she began working full time around the city doing odd jobs and mixing jobs wherever she could. She had saved up enough money to make the move, when she had met her boyfriend. He was playing a live set at a bar she was bartending for and the two hit it off right away. Soon, the two began to collaborate with music and Kaia found herself producing and mixing his demos.

Sure, their relationship was a little bit of a rollercoaster, but in Kaia’s mind, that wasn’t strange. She had seen her parents experience similar things with one another. He struggled to pay rent along with his tuition fees for his music program, but Kaia didn’t mind paying for it. Being an American citizen in Canada made it difficult at times to find employment and at the beginning he was super grateful. That’s how they fell into a rhythm on Kaia working to support the both of them while doing what she loved.

When her boyfriend’s Visa expired, she knew this was her chance to move down to LA. Her parents weren’t thrilled with the two of them moving in together, but they had already been a couple for 2 years. In Kaia’s mind, it was the next step in their relationship. She also assured her parents that if anything happened, that she had enough money saved up to support herself on her own for a few months.

“Sick beats!” she jumped at the voice, turning around to see Charlie fist bumping into her garage. Immediately, she turned down the music and smiled. “I didn’t know you were into music too! This is really good!”

“Think so? I haven’t made anything from scratch in a long time” Kaia blushed when Charlie’s jaw dropped at her confession. “I’m actually struggling with this track if I’m being honest”

“May I?” she moved over letting Charlie take control and play around with things. The two then began a very in depth conversation about music and finding the sound of the track she was working on. However, Kaia came to learn that as passionate Charlie was about music, he was also very goofy. The two playfully argued as to whether Charlie was correct about incorporating a xylophone or bongos into the track. He was a self proclaimed EDM expert and enthusiast, which caused Kaia to question his instrument choices. They sat there for who knows how long, eventually trading rhythms on different instruments, Kaia on the piano and Charlie on the guitar. “You’re really good at this Kai”

“I normally produce music that my boyfriend writes” she scratch her neck in embarrassment. “The move had us so busy that I’m a little rusty”

“What? If this is what you’re “rusty” is, then I’m excited to see your polished work!” Kaia smiled and stood there awkwardly, not fully knowing how to accept his compliment. “Kai, you should really give your music a chance”

“I’ll think about it” she smiled. “Say, was there a reason why you bursted into my garage?” It was now Charlie’s turn to blush and Kaia giggled in return.

“Oh yeah, I was going to invite you and your boyfriend for a barbeque tomorrow evening. Think you’d like to come?” he wiggled his eyebrows making Kaia laugh.

“We’ve got plans. Thanks” both were startled at the introduction of a new voice. Kaia’s boyfriend stood at the garage door entrance, arms crossed and unimpressed.

“Ty, this is Charlie, our neighbour. Charlie, this is Tyler, my boyfriend” Kaia quickly made her way to her boyfriend, explaining the situation.

“Nice to meet you man” Charlie smiled and extended his hand, but Tyler just looked at it until Charlie took it back. He muttered a soft ‘okay then’ and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to invite you and Kai over for dinner tomorrow night. My roommates would love to meet you guys”

“It’s Kaia, and thanks but no thanks. Like I said, we have plans” Kaia stood silently beside her boyfriend, fidgeting with her sleeve. She held one arm across her body and was squeezing her other arm, but cleared her throat to break the tension.

“Thanks for the visit. I’ll see you around Charlie” this time Kaia’s smile was a genuine one, but by the look on Charlie’s face, she knew he was growing suspicious. She was grateful that he didn’t push the topic, but she knew that his hesitation wouldn’t go unnoticed by her boyfriend.

What is it with you and this guy? We were just collaborating on mixing. You mix for me Kaia. Don’t let someone take advantage of you. He wasn’t taking advantage of me. He was helping me. Helping? It sounds like shit. You better get your head in the game for my next EP. ... Babe, you know I only want you to be the best right? I know. I love you. ... I love you too.

If another person screamed at her today, Kaia was sure that she would lose it. She felt exhausted and overworked. Living in LA was proving to be pricey and she was the only one who was able to find work between the two of them. Between working two jobs and producing late into the evenings, Kaia felt like she was reaching her limit.

“Good evening! Can I start you guys with something to drink?” Kaia fished for her notepad and pen in her apron, fiddling around for a moment.

“Kai?” she recognized the voice immediately and finally found her things. Charlie sat at the table she was waiting along with two other people.

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me Charlie” she joked, smoothing out her hair and uniform. She suddenly felt more aware and conscious of her appearance.

“Sounds like Charlie” the female interrupted, earning a shove from the male. The blonde across from Charlie stifled a chuckle at the interaction. “I’m Hannah, I live with Charlie”

“And this is Owen” he introduced and Kaia gave a kind smile back. “I didn’t know you worked here! I thought you worked at the Starbucks?” she noticed Owen and Hannah give each other a look about Charlie’s observation.

“Yeah, I work at Starbucks in the morning and here in the evenings” she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Not all of us make a living off of Netflix contracts” she winked. “What can I get you guys?”

The playful banter continued on through the night and Kaia continued to wait their table, along with the many other tables she had. Kaia got to know Owen and Hannah pretty well that night and genuinely enjoyed their company. Since moving to LA, she had been working so much that she hadn’t even made friends in the three months she had been there. So naturally, after her shift, she sat down with their table and got them free dessert just to hang out. They were having such a good time that she lost track time.

“Hey Kaia! Your boyfriend’s calling” Kaia paled at the closing manager’s announcement and she politely excused herself from the table, telling the manager she’d take the call in the office. As Kaia sat in the office, quiet tears streamed down her face as her boyfriend chastised her over the phone. Her closing manager comforted her quietly, knowing the intricacies of her situation. Once Kaia was sure she was composed, she returned to her table of friends, surprised that they still waited around for her.

“Thanks for the company tonight! I’ll see you guys around?” The looks they gave each other didn’t go unnoticed by Kaia. However, they didn’t say anything and bid her farewell.

“Hey Kaia?” she paused and turned around, a soft smile on her face, and Charlie standing at the edge of his table. “You know you can talk to me right?” Kaia bit her lip, hesitant for her next move. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tears that were surfacing.

“I’m just tired is all” but a tear slipped down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Charlie pulled her in for a hug and Kaia melted into it. She couldn’t remember feeling this warmth for a long time and quite frankly, she felt at peace. The flickering of the car lights in the parking lot pulled her attention from the comfort of Charlie’s arms. “I have to go” she whispered and left, not bearing to look at Charlie and the rest.

I don’t like him. Don’t hang around him anymore. He’s my only friend here. Then make a new one. How? Between working two jobs and mixing your music, I have no time. Don’t pin this on me. Stop whining and figure it out. ... I’m just protecting you. He’ll take advantage of you. ... Now who’s my girl? I am. And who’s everything that you’ll ever need. ... Kaia. You are. Don’t forget that.

“That’ll be $4.95”

“I’ll pay. Could you add on a donut too? Thanks”

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks after the diner incident. Kaia didn’t actually see Charlie, but rather Charlie saw Kaia and couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to her. Judging by his outfit, she assumed that he was on his usual morning run. She felt nervous about him appearing from nowhere and offering to buy her coffee, especially since the last time they talked it was awkward.

“You didn’t have to do that Charlie.” she smiled and thanked him with her eyes. She fiddled with her zip up collar and hair.

“It’s nothing. Wanna grab a table? Maybe in a more secluded and private area?” she nodded thinking that his specificity in seating had to do with the recent release of a Netflix show he starred on that was gaining popularity. So she settled for a table tucked away in the corner of the shop. Charlie followed along soon after with her coffee and his donut.

“Thanks again. How was your run?” Charlie shrugged as he took a bite of his donut.

“Same as always, except this time I get to see you” Kaia blushed at his beautiful smile. He was good looking and from their exchanges, she had gotten to know he was genuinely a good guy. “You like to hike?”

She couldn’t understand what it was, but Charlie had a way of making her feel comfortable and safe. As they chatted about the many hiking places and how often Charlie went, Kaia could see the excitement in his eyes. Their conversation naturally divulged into hobbies and things they had been up to. The two laughed and chatted, both of them wishing that they could stay in each other’s company. It was exactly what she needed.

“I haven’t been hearing you mix lately. The neighbourhood sounds quiet”

“Nothing I’ve come up with sounds good” she stated sheepishly, flushed at the fact that Charlie had noticed.

“Oh come on, I’m sure you’re being hard on yourself. You’re extremely talented, and I’m not saying that just to be nice or anything!” Charlie leaned in as he said this, and Kaia could tell that he truly meant what he was saying.

“No, it’s always garbage when I try to mix on my own” Charlie frowned at this much to Kaia’s dismay, and he sat back in his seat, looking slightly annoyed. Kaia felt her pulse quicken, feeling like she had disappointed him in some way.

“Is that what he tells you?” Kaia was about to drink her coffee, but that comment caught her off guard. She tensed, knowing where this conversation could go and where she didn’t want it to go. “I’m sorry, I just...”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything” she assured him, setting her cup down and a small awkward silence filling the empty space. “I get that you care Charlie, but everything’s fine”.

“You don’t have to lie to me Kai” she avoided his gaze knowing that he would see right through her when she melted under his stare. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but if what I think is happening, is happening, then you need to leave” she bit her lip again, stopping herself from confessing the truth to Charlie.

“Nothing’s happening Charlie. We’ve just been going through a rough patch. I’m fine, really” she hoped to god that she sounded convincing enough for Charlie to drop the topic. Nervous for his response, she glanced down at her phone and noticed the 15 missed calls. To add, they had been sitting in that coffee shop chatting for 2 hours. Kaia always came to Tyler’s defence, as Charlie wasn’t the first one to voice his concerns. Tyler was sweet and loving, but he often got jealous or irritated. However, it was always emphasized that Kaia crossed the lines that triggered Tyler and that he never acted irrationally.

“Thanks for the chat Charlie.” She smiled at him, taking the last sip of the liquid in her cup. “It was nice getting to know you more”. She could see Charlie hesitate, knowing he didn’t want the conversation to end. She secretly wanted the same thing as his, but she felt guilty for feeling this way.

In their various exchanges and in their conversation today, Kaia felt more and more attracted to Charlie. He was so kind and always interested in the person he was talking to. He empathized and expressed compassion in a way that Kaia had never experienced before. If she wasn’t with Tyler, she could see herself with Charlie and that made her feel horrible. She tried over and over again to convince herself that Charlie was nothing but a friend, when really she wanted more. Tyler loved her and only wanted the best for her, yet here she was wishing Charlie was in Tyler’s place instead.

“You don’t have to be with someone that makes you feel the way you do” Charlie held Kaia’s hand across the table. “I know you might feel like you’re trapped, but you don’t have to be. You have a way out” Kaia quickly wiped away the tear that escaped her eyes, but Charlie wiped away the second one. The two sat in silence as Kaia quietly let a few more tears escape, but it was only a matter of time that Kaia would find herself in Charlie’s arms crying steadily, but still silently, until there was nothing left. When Kaia was sure she was done, Charlie pulled away to give her an encouraging smile and squeezed her arm.

That’s when Kaia kissed him.

In her mind, it all happened so fast. One moment, she was trying to protect Tyler, the next moment she was wishing Tyler was Charlie. That’s what led her to kiss him and Charlie to kiss her back. The two pulled apart, speechless and slightly out of breath, but Kaia didn’t stay long enough to get a response. She quickly grabbed her things and left Charlie to rush out after her. She kept walking despite his calls after her.

That kiss confirmed what Kaia had been trying to deny for a long time now. It confirmed that she didn’t want to be with Tyler anymore. It confirmed that she hadn’t wanted to be with him for a long time. She hasn’t loved him for a long time and it took someone else to help her realize there was love outside of Tyler. However, leaving Tyler wouldn’t be so easy. She tried many times, but there was always a reason as to why she never left. Unfortunately, that reason as of late had been fear.

“Kai! Kaia! Would you just stop for a second?!” Charlie chased after her, ignoring the various stares that were casted their way. A car pulled up beside her on the street and she paused to get in. Kaia looked back at him regretfully, tears falling from her eyes again, before opening the door and being pulled in. Charlie was left on the side of the street, left wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

You’re so stupid, why can’t you think? I’m sorry. Yeah, well sorry isn’t good enough! What did I tell you about him?! I’m sorry. Is that all you can say?! Tyler, stop, you’re hurting me. I’m hurting you?! What about what you’re doing to me?! You’re so selfish Kaia. ... This is what I get for everything that I’ve given you?! ...I’m sorry. Just shut up.

Kaia quit her jobs the next day at Tyler’s request. His reasoning was that Kaia couldn’t be trusted outside of the house, so it would be better for her to pick up some work from home jobs. It didn’t help that he had found a printed bank statement with information about how much Kaia had in her savings, something he didn’t hesitate to use against her.

If she was being honest, she felt absolutely awful and was quietly thankful that she was able to quit her jobs. It meant that she didn’t have to leave home, something that she was hoping for more and more. Kaia was riddled with guilt that deep down, she saw Charlie as more than a friend and that she kissed him, despite being in a relationship with Tyler. She reasoned that she was being unfaithful to Tyler, especially after everything he did for her back in Vancouver. Sure, she handled the financials, but Tyler showed her a whole new world that she never dreamed of getting access to. He introduced her to Canadian producers and artists, got her more involved in the music scene and he loved her. Tyler was her first everything! First kiss, first boyfriend, first time... He loved her. She was sure of it.

Or was she?

“She’ll have a water and a margherita pizza and I’ll have the tuscan with a coke” Kaia felt him squeeze her arm and she did her best not to flinch. He had insisted that he sat beside her whenever they dined out so that he could be closer to her, but his rough advances were uncomfortable, especially with the bruises. She sat there in silence staring off to space as they sat on the outdoor patio.

He had been lashing out more lately and sometimes Kaia got in the way. He didn’t target her for his aggression, it was rather that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn’t dare tell a single soul. Not her friends back home, not her family, no one. That would prompt them to check on her more and more, something that she really didn’t want. She wanted to be left alone. Tyler had grown obsessive of knowing what she was doing at every moment. He held her phone from her and everywhere he went, she came along too. She was rarely left home alone. Had Tyler become toxic? Yes.

Had he been toxic for a while? Well...

In truth, Kaia wanted to break things off a few months into their dating, but he’d always find a way to convince her otherwise. At some point, Kaia stopped questioning his off behaviour or quips and accepted it as that was who he was. She convinced herself that at his core the Tyler she fell for was still there and that right now he had all the reasons to be the way he was. Life as a musician was stressful, especially when you hadn’t made it into the industry.

Kaia was pulled out of her thoughts as the waitress placed their orders down in front of them. Immediately, Tyler began portioning out her serving on her plate as she quietly sipped on her water.

“Can you look any more miserable Kaia? Jesus” he scoffed, shoving her serving in front of her. “If you’re going to be this miserable out and about, I might as well leave you at home” she ate her slice in silence, not entertaining his comments, knowing that whatever she said would be used against her anyways. His phone began vibrating and he sighed, seemingly conflicted. “I gotta take this inside because it’s too loud out here. Don’t leave until I come back” Kaia nodded softly continuing to chew on her slice, as he stepped away from the table, out of sight. Her heart began to race when she noticed he left her phone behind.

This is it. This is your chance out Kaia. Don’t think. Just do it.

She snatched the phone and quickly pin dropped her location with the word ‘HELP’, to the one person she knew she could count on. Quickly, she deleted the text and put her phone back, not wanting to be caught near it. She prayed that he would see her text and she prayed that he would be able to help her. As she watched her boyfriend return to the table, she felt her stomach knot and the pizza she consumed rise in her throat.

“Eat your food or people are going to think I’m making you starve or some shit” he scoffed sitting down beside her and continuing to eat. He didn’t notice anything.

“I’m not hungry anymore” she smiled at him, slightly pushing her plate away. He pushed it back to her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want people thinking I’m treating you poorly” she stiffly grabbed her half eaten slice and when she was nearly done, he put another one on her plate. In the distance, she saw the familiar orange subaru parallel park. Her heart rate increased.

“Thank you. Was that phone call good news?” Kaia knew that the number one thing Tyler liked was talking about himself and his accomplishment. She turned to face him more and tried her best to look really engaged in the conversation, despite her sweaty palms and pounding heart. She was grateful that his back was facing the inside of the restaurant and he turned to face her too, telling her about the exec who was interested in meeting him and listening to his work. She nodded and replied appropriately, but she couldn’t tell you what more he said. Kaia was too focused on the scene in the restaurant unfolding. She watched as Charlie walked in and explained the situation to the hostess who then called over what looked like the manager. The three of them stood in discussion as a police officer entered the restaurant as well, pointing to their table. Her stomach sank as she watched the officer and Charlie leave, but she did her best to keep her eyes focused, only looking at the background when he went for a bite or a drink.

The waitress made her way over and asked how their meal was or if there was anything that she could get for them. Kaia shook her head no and Tyler did as well, but she dropped off napkins, tapping them lightly and looking at Kaia directly. She took it as a sign that the napkins had something important, so she intentionally took a messy bite of pizza, to wipe her face. Too bad Tyler got to the napkin first. Wiping his mouth, he noticed a smudge mark of ink on the napkin and Kaia immediately knew she was done for. His face changed in an instant and he glared at her, throwing cash onto the table.

“Get up.”

“But I’m not done-”

“I said, Get. Up.” Kaia did as she was told and Tyler grabbed her arm, not caring at who was staring. She started to walk, but it wasn’t good enough for Tyler as he forced her to his side. “You think you’re so smart? Tipping off the waitress like you’re some prisoner”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up. You little liar. I’m not hurting you. I’m not forcing you to be here. You can leave, but you don’t because you know that you’re nothing without me” he hissed into her ear as they made their way to the entrance, but the officer stopped them midway. “Can I help you, officer?”

“I just need to ask you some questions outside. Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to wait inside with the manager” the officer was stern and surely Tyler would comply, but he proved different.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving my girlfriend by herself,” he added, pulling her close.

“Tyler, just do as he says” she winced at the grip he had on her arm, glaring at her.

“Sir, you need to come with me. Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from him” Kaia complied but Tyler didn’t, and soon she began to fight him off, struggling for her freedom all the while the police officer was trying to deescalate the situation. She finally slapped him across the face and he splashed a glass of water that was sitting on a table in her face, then throwing the glass at her. The police officer restrained him immediately and dragged him outside, while Kaia was left in the restaurant wet and a bruise starting to form on her cheek bone.

Was this it? Was it over?

She felt a soft warm cloth envelop her shoulders and she was handed a dish rag to try to dry off, but she was still in shock. She was moved to a less populated area of the restaurant, away from any clients and was sat down at a table. That’s when Charlie came running back in. As he rushed over to where she was sitting, she felt her own legs start to move quickly towards him, falling into his embrace. Charlie held her close, comforting her by whispering soothing words into her ears. He moved them to the table she was originally at and sat beside her, holding her while her tears fell and even after. He held her while another police officer approached them to update them on Tyler. He held her as they took down her statement and gave her directions as to what she would do next.

“Here is the address to the temporary apartment we will have you stay in. Do you have a vehicle or need transportation” Kaia read the address on the paper, but before she could speak up, Charlie did.

“Kai, I can drive you if you want. I can even help you get things that you need from your place” he smiled gently at her and cautiously, knowing that she was still in shock and overwhelmed.

“You’ll have a police escort on the premise if you would like to return home to grab a few things” Kaia looked at Charlie searching his eyes for some sort of sign that he was as hurtful as Tyler.

“I’ll let him drive me back and forth, thank you.” her voice sounded slightly croaky, probably from her crying. The officer notified them that she could give them 10 minutes before they had to leave. They would follow Charlie’s car to her house and escort her around to grab what she needed. From there, she would be followed to her temporary residence, until the courts could come to a conclusion about her situation. As the officer stepped away, Kaia took a deep breath and let out a big sigh.

“Thank you Charlie”

“I should be thanking you. What you did was hard, but it was the right thing to do. I’m always here for you, however you need me” He kissed her hand that he held and pulled her in for another hug. For the first time, in a long time, Kaia felt something she didn’t know she was missing.

Loved.

A/N: Look out for part 2!

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