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leejungchans · 2 years

Text

scored! : l.c

word count | 12.4k (SORRY idk why i do this to myself either)

pairing | lee chan (svt) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, food mentions (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour, university au, enemies-to-lovers au

notes | uh i don’t really know how game season works bc it’s not really a thing in unis here (?) so ;-; please forgive me for any (inevitable) inaccuracies hghhghe also this is my first time making a moving banner so shhh just ignore how bad it is gwhsha

summary: lee chan should really stop winning so many games for your university, because as the resident writer for the sports column of the student newsletter, you’re starting to get really sick of having to cross paths with him all the time.

a/n: happy birthday to my boyfriend (/j) chan who’s also a loser (affectionate ig) bc he never pays rent for living in my head 🙄💗 also just thought everyone should see this clip that kinda inspired this whole fic okay bye—

WEEK NINE.

You love writing for your university’s student newsletter, you really do; you just hate the person you have to write about.

“Stupid Lee Chan and his stupid wins,” you grumble, stomping across the football field with your notebook grasped tightly in your hold. Seungkwan kindly got you one with a hard cover for the new school year, because he will never forget that particular afternoon last year when you stormed into Wonwoo’s office and slammed down a crumpled sheet of recycled paper onto his hardwood desk, with LEE CHAN’S STUPID INTERVIEW #4 messily scrawled across the top of the page.

Something about the look on your face that day told Seungkwan you didn’t particularly care if Chan saw the title, written in all caps with a black marker. Hell, you probably wanted him to see.

Thus entered the hard-cover notebook so no other innocent sheet of paper would have to meet its unfortunate demise at the hands of your never-ending feud with the star player.

“Well,” Mingyu begins, easily catching up to you thanks to his long legs, “they don’t call him the ace of the team for no reason, you gotta admit that those goals he scored at the game were pretty awesome. Redstone U stood no chance.”

You hate everything about the soccer field; the dirt that gets trapped between the grooves of your soles, the occasional rogue ball that comes whipping at your head at light speed, the jock who’s currently waiting for you at the bleachers…

“Yeah, he’s a good player, I guess. But I think he let all the attention get to his head.” You lift your free hand to shield your face from the late afternoon sun, beads of sweat already forming along your hairline. Damn you for always forgetting to apply sunscreen before heading to the field, Minghao will have your head when he finds out. “Every time he poses for you while you take his photos, I just want to throw up.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mingyu singsongs, “people don’t throw themselves at him for no reason either. Plus, I think that blonde hair he has going on right now suits him really well.”

Your lips purse together as you swallow down a bitter remark about how you absolutely do not find Lee Chan attractive, especially not with the new hair colour he got done over the summer. Who cares that a compliment from Kim Mingyu, most-eligible-bachelor-on-campus extraordinaire, means you’re undeniably hot with a capital ‘H’ and the trademark symbol? Certainly not you.

“Whatever,” you mutter, annoyance rising upon spying the bane of your existence in the third row, seventh seat from the left, “let’s just get this over with.” You don’t notice the smile that creeps its way onto your photographer friend’s face as he trails behind you, amusedly observing the way you stomp over to Chan.

“Glad you finally showed up, Y/N,” Chan says with that insufferable smirk of his, “you can never get enough of me, huh? Who knew you’d still be writing for the sports column despite claiming to hate my guts.”

“Because I actually enjoy writing about the other athletes at Pledis U who don’t walk around acting like people worship the ground they walk on.”

Chan places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You really know how to hurt a man, don’t you?”

“Only if it's you.”

“Aw, I didn’t know I was that special to you.” He has the audacity to lean in, his cocky grin unwavering as the afternoon sun accentuates all the sharp angles of his face. “You find me irresistible, Y/N, admit it.”

Mingyu, sensing you’re only minutes away from bursting a blood vessel, graciously cuts in. He’s always been on friendly terms with Chan, anyways. “No practice today?” he asks, nodding towards the athlete’s casual wear as opposed to the team uniform he usually dons whenever he’s on the field.

“Nah, Coach gave us a few days off. If this is your way of asking me to hang out, I guess I can make some time for you guys, especially for Little Miss Reporter over here.”

“No thanks,” you snap, “I see enough of your face already, and the same goes for Mingyu since he has to edit your stupid photos for the column all the time.”

“Suit yourselves. So… the interview?”

You really should’ve known that Lee Chan would never make your job easy, because you’re only at your third question when he lets out a scornful chuckle.

Your eyes narrow as your hand subconsciously tightens around your pen. “What now?”

The boy leans back on his hands, still watching you with that shit-eating grin on his face. “You ask the same questions every time, it’s kinda boring, don’t you think?”

“And you give the same answers each interview, but you don’t hear me complaining,” you shoot back, “it’s not my fault that people want to read these things about you.”

It’s true. For one of his interviews last year, you decided to mix the questions up a bit just so you could get a change of scenery, only to later have people come up to you in lectures asking why you left out the riveting part about Lee Chan’s workout routine.

You almost screamed, and after that Minghao started getting you to meditate with him.

“Ah, I see... Well then, please continue. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans.”

“I don’t know how you can still stand up straight with that huge head of yours.”

“I was just joking. You’re cute when you’re all grumpy like this, by the way.”

“I have a pen in my hand, Lee Chan, I would try being less infuriating if I were you.”

The smirk that tugs at his pretty pink lips burns your insides with anger, a clear sign that he did not find you threatening in the slightest. “See? Cute.”

Unfortunately, your woes don’t end with the interview. Having Kim Mingyu as the newsletter’s photographer is a double-edged sword, because while his photos always come out looking like he plucked them from some high fashion magazine, his need for perfection also meant that you have to sit through 20 minutes of Lee Chan’s posing.

So you settle for doodling flowers in the margins of your notebook while you wait on the bleachers, hoping it will make you appear occupied while keeping the temptation to watch at bay.

“It’s a little hot, do you mind if I lose the jacket?”

“Sure. Wait! Drape it over your shoulder like thi—yeah, yeah, yeah, like that! Okay, hold still…”

Against your mind’s warning, your gaze tears away from the page to where Mingyu is currently taking Chan’s photos on the field, mentally slapping yourself for gawking at the way his white T-shirt clings to his figure.

Much to your embarrassment, your eyes meet when he looks away from the camera momentarily, and the ever-growing grin on his face tells you it’s far too late to avert your gaze and pretend you haven’t been staring.

“Like what you see?” you hear him call out.

“You wish!”

“I don’t blame you for looking!” Chan yells back, and it just makes you want to bury yourself in a hole before someone else can hear him. “Let me know if you want my shirt off too!”

“Fuck off!”

You want to take his denim jacket and fling it into the sun where it can burn like your extreme dislike for him. (“Hate’s a strong word, Y/N,” Minghao always says.) You also hate how Mingyu’s looking at you, like he’s trying very hard not to say something that will have you chasing him around whacking his head with your notebook.

Hm, maybe Seungkwan was right to get you one with a hard cover. You make a mental note to thank him later.

“You sure you didn’t want his shirt off?” Mingyu asks teasingly on your way back to campus.

“No, I did not.” It’s just the heat that’s making your cheeks burn. Just the heat.

“He’s totally into you.”

“He flirts with everything that walks on two legs. Plus, he was definitely doing it just to piss me off.”

“Whatever you say,” your friend hums, so engrossed in clicking through the photos he took that he would’ve walked right into a pillar if you hadn’t pulled on his sleeve to steer him away. “Anyways, these are some pretty cool shots, especially because of the sun! Ugh, I love golden hour. Wanna have a look?”

He wags his camera in your face, to which you gently push it away with a scowl. “Absolutely not. Now watch where you’re going.”

WEEK SIXTEEN.

“No.”

“But it’d be a fun team-building activity for all of us!” Despite putting on your sweetest smile, your editor doesn’t seem convinced.

“I know you’re just trying to get out of doing the sports column for a bit because the soccer team won another game,” Wonwoo reveals as he pushes his glasses up, “I know you don’t like Lee Chan, but he’s not all that bad. I’ve spoken to him before.”

“W-Well, he’s different with you guys than when he’s talking to me! Anyways, swapping columns would be so fun even if it’s just for a few issues! Like, imagine me taking over Michelin Shua!”

“‘Take over’?” Joshua whines, “Michelin Shua is doing just fine and you don’t know the nuances that come with it!”

“You go to restaurants outside campus and review their food! What nuances can there possibly be? Ugh, fine. What if I do Project Vernway?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Vernon teases, pretending to check his nails like a haughty socialite, “Project Vernway is serious business.”

“You rate students’ outfits on whether or not they’re related to The Simpsons, Powerpuff Girls, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!”

“Precisely. It’s a very serious business that requires someone with an eye for fashion to handle.”

You whirl round to face Seungkwan, the newsletter’s resident advice columnist who also happens to be your last hope. He’s always been the most sympathetic to your predicament with Lee Chan, the two having butted heads quite often from their time in elementary school.

He beats you to it before you can even present your case. “Sorry, Y/N. I love you, but I wouldn’t trust you with giving advice to anyone.”

“Rude!”

“Minghao told me you once almost fought a squirrel in the quad,” he deadpans.

“It hissed at me! Plus, he was the one who told me I needed to start asserting myself more!”

“I don’t think he meant doing it to a glorified rat with a bushy tail!”

Vernon gasps, utterly scandalised. “Hey! You crossed the line with that one!”

God, you need new friends. Like, right now.

“Aw, don’t look so down, Y/N,” Joshua coos, smiling brightly despite your obvious despair, “we all know you like him more than you let on.”

“Yeah, and don’t think I didn’t catch you looking through the photos I took for him from his last interview,” Mingyu chimes in, shooting you a pointed look from his desk in the corner of the room. He’d been so silent the entire meeting that you almost forgot he’s in the room with you all.

“I—I was doing quality control!”

“Liar,” Vernon coughs, quickly raising his hands in mock surrender when you swivel around to give him your best death glare. “Sorry, just a tickle in my throat.”

“Anyways, we’re not doing the column exchange,” Wonwoo concludes. The steely gaze he sends you through his wire-framed glasses tells you it’s not up for debate, hence effectively ending the conversation. “You’ll be fine, Y/N, the people like what you write for the sports column, and besides, this will probably be the last piece you write on Chan before winter break.”

A heavy sigh pushes out of your chest. “Fine.”

•••

It’s not fine.

mingyu 🐶 [15:23] okay don’t kill me but

mingyu 🐶 [15:23] sth came up with the photog club and i can’t come :(

y/n [16:01] WHAT

y/n [16:01] IM LITERALLY ALREADY AT THE BLEACHERS

y/n [16:01] I CANT DO THIS ALONE MINGYU PLEASE

mingyu 🐶 [16:03] YES YOU CAN!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!

mingyu 🐶 [16:03] c’mon i’ll buy you ice cream later 🥺

y/n [16:03] ……..fine

“Your muse has arrived.”

You look up from your notepad with a scowl as Lee Chan walks up the steps to where you’re sitting, wrinkling your nose upon taking note of his damp hair and uniform. It physically pains you to admit that despite it all, he still manages to look good.

“Trust me, you do not inspire me in the slightest,” you sneer, putting some distance between you two when he unceremoniously plops himself into the seat next to you. “But thanks for agreeing to do this during your break.”

The wink he flashes you makes you almost regret thanking him. “Anything for you, Y/N. Where’s Mingyu?”

“Busy. He’ll text you later to schedule your photos.”

“Aw, why the sad face? Missing him already?”

“So what if I am?” The challenging cock of your eyebrow wipes the mocking pout off Chan’s face as his heart involuntarily beats a little faster, unable to help himself from secretly wondering if you were serious.

He huffs in mild aggravation, miffed at the thought of you and Kim Mingyu being a thing. As much as he’d like to deny all chances of that happening, it’s impossible to ignore how much sense it makes—you spend so much time together on the newsletter, who knows what looks are shared or what touches are exchanged in the editor’s office when Jeon Wonwoo steps out for TA duties?

It’s a horrific seedling that’s been sowed in his mind ever since the two of you first approached him a year ago for an interview much like this one; a seedling Chan would like to leave out to die in the blazing afternoon sun.

“Whatever, let’s just start. My break’s gonna be over soon.”

You don’t know what’s caused such a sudden shift in the athlete’s attitude, but you don’t like it one bit. His answers become increasingly clipped, which definitely won’t give you much to work with when you start on the column in between essays later. You don’t comment on it, though, wanting to maintain your last shred of professionalism around him.

“Okay, next question… what are your personal goals for—”

“Chan! Coach said two more minutes!” Choi Yeonjun yells from the base of the bleachers. “Better wrap it up with your girlfriend!”

You barely know the blue-haired boy, yet something compels you to abandon all self respect to screech back, “I’m not his girlfriend!” He hardly seems fazed, simply shooting you a sheepish smile along with a shrug of his shoulders.

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and much to your alarm you find the seat that was occupied by Chan just seconds ago abandoned, said boy already making his way down the bleachers towards his teammate. You spring to your feet. “Wait! Lee Chan! I’m not done asking! He said you have two minutes!”

He doesn’t spare you a look, blonde hair bouncing with each step he takes away from you. “Yeah, but I’m done answering!”

“But—”

Finally, he tosses you a quick glance over his shoulder. The sneer tugging at his lips has you seeing red immediately. “You said I give the same answers all the time, right? Just whip something up yourself!”

Defeated, you can only watch dumbly as he continues his descent before huffily grabbing your bag and shovelling your things into it with more force than necessary.

You hate him, you really do.

WEEK SEVENTEEN.

“Wait, she really said that?”

“Who said what?” you ask curiously, throwing your backpack onto the nearest surface with little regard as to where it lands. “And why is Gyu’s face as red as that time when Joshua got drunk?”

“Hey! I’m right here, you know!”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes teasingly. “They were talking about this girl who’s going to be in the coming Project Vernway, basically—”

A loud groan rumbles from Mingyu’s chest as he buries his face into his arms. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Can we please change the subject?”

“Nope,” Vernon says, popping the ‘p’, “anyways, I asked her if we could feature her because she was wearing this super cool Powerpuff Girls shirt—ten out of ten, by the way, you guys need to take notes—but yeah, after Mingyu took her photos she asked him for a goodnight kiss before bolting away. And that’s not all: right after that he said he would’ve given her one if she hadn’t run away.”

Another embarrassed howl erupts from the photographer. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he sulks, crossing his arms over his chest, “she was cute.”

“Okay, okay, before Gyu actually starts crying, I just wanna check up on everyone’s progress,” Wonwoo says, “remember your parts are due three days before winter break ends so I have enough time to edit everything and send them to Professor Nam.” He goes around the room, nodding in approval as each of your fellow column writers confirm that they’re in the homestretch of their pieces.

You shuffle nervously when the editor’s eyes land on you, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. A soft utterance of your name leaves Wonwoo’s lips, and his eyes are gentle as he asks, “Do you need help with yours? Because you know you can always tell us, right? I’m sure any of us will be happy to help.”

You smile gratefully as your friends nod in agreement. “Thanks, guys. It’s no big deal, it’s just that… I didn’t really finish the interview with Chan because he got called away, and since he kept whining about how I ask the same questions over and over again I actually added a few new ones this time, so I can’t exactly make up answers for him…”

“But winter break starts next week,” Wonwoo frowns, “you might not see him again until after, which is past the internal deadline Nam gave us.”

“Maybe she can text him the remaining questions,” Joshua supplies helpfully to ease your growing panic, “that way they won’t have to physically meet up during the break for the interview.”

“Except Lee Chan is notoriously bad at responding to texts.” Your heart practically drops to your stomach because you know Seungkwan’s right, and for a reason you cannot fault Chan over. “Something about random students asking around for his number and blowing his phone up. Honestly, I don’t envy the poor kid.”

“It’s okay, guys,” you reassure, yet your tone betrays your absolute lack of confidence, “I’ll think of something.”

•••

The ‘something’ is what led you to the doorstep of Seo Changbin’s house where he’s throwing a big bash right before winter break starts tomorrow. His end-of-semester parties are always lavish, and while they’re not as exclusive as one might expect, you’ve never found yourself at one of them.

Until tonight, because you happened to be scrolling through Instagram when you saw him on one of the partygoers’ Stories.

The doorbell chimes loudly as you run your hands up and down your arms to warm them. In your haste to get to the party you had forgotten to grab a jacket to wear, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold thanks to the sheer sleeves of your dress.

The blue-haired athlete who answers the door has your shoulders sagging with relief. At least Choi Yeonjun’s somewhat of a familiar face. “Hey! Y/N, right?” he greets brightly as he steps aside to let you in. “I didn’t know you liked coming to these parties, not that it’s a bad thing, though! I always see you running around interviewing people for the newsletter, so it’s good to let loose once in a while. You look great, by the way!”

You laugh shyly while smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles on your slip dress, a timeless number the colour of champagne that was one of your many 3am impulse purchases. “Thanks, Yeonjun. I’m not really here to party, though, I’m looking for Chan—oh, don’t give me that look!” you whine, shoving lightly at his shoulder as he cackles, “I just need to ask him a few questions.”

As the two of you head deeper into the house, you quickly realise that all those rumours about Changbin’s legendary parties are indeed true; the marble floors are so shiny that they’re no different from mirrors, the open kitchen you just walked past had shelves upon shelves of what you assume are expensive wines, and you’ve lost count of how many crystal chandeliers you’ve already walked under.

You have to practically yell over the loud music and the chitter-chatter of the crowd just so Yeonjun can hear you. “Wow, Changbin really is loaded, huh?”

He chuckles into the rim of his cup before taking a large gulp. “That’s the biggest understatement of the year. Do you want a drink?”

You refuse with a gentle smile and shake of your head. “It’s okay, I have to go after I talk to Chan since I’m taking an early bus home tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s a shame, but I can assure you that there’ll be lots more parties like this, so—”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Speak of the devil.

You tear your gaze away from Yeonjun and come face-to-face with none other than Lee Chan. Despite a majority of the partygoers’ choice of fancy attire, he dons an oversized letterman jacket over a snug black shirt with ripped jeans and sneakers, it shouldn’t work so well on him, but it does. His wine-stained lips purse tightly together as his eyes flit between you and his blue-haired teammate suspiciously, and you can’t help but feel small under his intense gaze.

“Oh, okay, got it,” Yeonjun mutters, already beginning to inch away from you, “I’m just gonna go look for Binnie. See ya, Y/N.”

Your heart hammers violently against your rib cage when Chan takes a step closer to you and leans in to speak into your ear, his breath fanning across the shell. “You never answered my question.”

You take a shaky step backwards, plastering an expression of indifference onto your face and resolutely ignoring the dizziness that resulted from your proximity. “I came here to look for you, actually,” you say coolly.

“Me?”

“Yeah, did you forget that we haven’t finished our interview?”

A disbelieving scoff pushes past his lips. “You mean to tell me that you got dressed and put on that,” he vaguely gestures to your dress, “just to talk business with me?”

“Yes, because there’s no way I’m showing up to one of Seo Changbin’s parties in my pyjamas.”

“You could’ve just waited until after the break.”

“My internal deadline is before that.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you as he nonchalantly takes a sip from his cup. “And why should I care? You’re the one asking me for a favour, need I remind you of that?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t walked off! Please, I just need five minutes!”

His lack of response is truly maddening, reaching a tipping point where the frustration coursing through your veins brings along a newfound burst of confidence, prompting you to wrap your hand around his wrist before pulling him along with you through the throng of tipsy students. You have no idea where you’re headed, but you figure there’d be a spare room upstairs where you could talk without having to yell over the noise.

A crisp clacking sound echoes off the marble as you march up the stairs with Chan in tow, and you breathe a sigh of relief upon reaching the second floor, already finding it much quieter with the party downstairs reduced to mere buzzing. Your streak of good luck persists when the first door on the right opens to an empty bedroom, which you immediately pull Chan into, shutting the door behind you.

You clumsily reach around the dark for a light switch, brightness flooding the room in seconds as you press yourself against the smooth wood of the door. “Five minutes,” you repeat firmly, “and I swear I’ll leave.”

“It’s not that, Y/N,” Chan says softly, “the guys on the team will be looking for me soon, there’s no time. Look, you can write the interview however you want, okay? Make me look like as much of an asshole as you want and all that. I don’t care.”

“But I do.”

Your voice comes out a whisper, so quiet that for a second you fear he didn’t hear you. “I care about my column and believe it or not, I care what my interviewees have to say.” You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze instead trained on the carpeted floor as you continue, “I want to be a journalist after graduation, and I take the column seriously because everyone else on the team certainly does, which makes it even more worthy of my dedication. Can I at least text you the questions so you can answer them over the break, please? I’d really appreciate it if the response came from you, even if it’s all bullshit.”

You wonder if he’s listening, what a blow to your pride it’d be if you were to find him completely zoned out and bored. You will never be able to show your face around him again if that’s the case.

Hesitantly, your eyes find him again. His expression is unreadable, but his stare is piercing, intense, boring into you in a way that has your heart almost leaping out of your chest. Before either of you can speak again, muffled voices outside in the hallway cause the two of you to freeze.

“—Mina said she saw him head upstairs with a girl.”

“Then… shouldn’t we head back?”

“Let’s just try first. Yo, Chan! Are you there? Rocky’s starting Just Dance in five!”

Your head whips away from the door as you stare at Chan with wide, panicked eyes.

He’s the complete opposite, unfazed and composed, when he asks you in a hushed voice, “Are you going home for the holidays?”

You nod.

“Okay, well, where do you live?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

You supply your general area through gritted teeth, bewilderment growing at his chuckle. “I live, like, a fifteen-minute drive away from you, Y/N. How about this: we meet over winter break at some place—a café, park, wherever you want—and I’ll finish the rest of the interview with you. Sound good?”

You blink owlishly at him, mind reeling as you process the offer he made you. “Really? Y-You’d do that?”

Chan shrugs. “Sure, it’s not like I have anything to do. Plus, I do feel kinda bad that you came all the way here just for me to turn you away.”

“I’m so touched.”

He throws his head back in laughter at your dry delivery. It’s a contagious chime, one that has a smile unwittingly tugging at your lips. You feel like you can breathe easier now. Who would’ve known that you and Lee Chan would come to some sort of an agreement for once? Certainly not you.

“How are you getting home?”

“The bus, probably.” You grimace, the thought of standing in the cold waiting in your thin dress highly unappealing.

“Please tell me you have a jacket somewhere.”

Chan rolls his eyes at your telling silence. “My God, Y/N, you’re going to freeze out there,” he mutters in disbelief while shrugging off his jacket before drawing close to you so he can drape the garment over your shoulders. You pray he can’t hear the thundering of your heartbeat as his cologne overwhelms your senses, intoxicating notes of fresh linen and jasmine flooding your system and threatening to make it go haywire.

He gives you a pointed look when you remain unmoving, and you realise that he won't be satisfied until you put your arms through the sleeves. So you do, already feeling much warmer with the thicker material enveloping your arms.

It’s a peculiar combination, his letterman jacket and your silky dress. You peer down at the ensemble with amusement. “What an odd mix.”

The fluttery sensation in your stomach only intensifies tenfold at his grin; it feels like a thousand elephants are doing cartwheels inside you. “Really? Because I think it looks quite nice on you—almost as good as it does on me.”

“You’re actually the worst.” Your words, however, don’t hold any hostility this time around.

“I just gave you my jacket!”

“… Touché.”

WEEK EIGHTEEN.

True to his word, Chan meets you at a cute café you used to frequent with your high school friends. It’s a quaint little place, with potted plants lining every windowsill, fairy lights strewn across the walls in various designs, the smell of freshly-baked pastries wafting through the air. You like that it’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city, you like that it’s not trying to be perfect with its wobbly tables and overgrown plants that dangle just inches from your head, you like that it feels like home.

It feels weirdly intimate to be somewhere like here with Chan, someone you once considered a loathed enemy, especially when the owner, a kind lady in her sixties who treats every patron as though they were her own grandchildren, brought over a slice of chocolate cake for the two of you to share after recognising you from your teenage years. Neither of you have the heart to tell her that you’re not a couple as she strokes your cheeks and reminisces about how much you’ve grown, not wanting to drag down her spirits during the holiday season.

“That was a nice place,” he says when you step out into the freezing cold, regrettably no longer in the comforting warmth of the café, “and the owner was really sweet too. I can see why you used to come here a lot. Thanks for bringing me here.”

You smile. “You’re welcome, and thank you for coming. Honestly, I was a little surprised when you told me you don’t have much to do over winter break, I thought you’d have more places to go, what with being Mr Popular and all.”

Chan matches his footfalls to yours as you wander aimlessly through the icy streets. “Nah. I already spend so much time on practice and games that I’m ready to just relax and sleep until noon. Plus, I miss my family.”

“That’s fair, you’re always so busy.”

Your cheeks grow warm when he playfully nudges you with his elbow. “I mean, so are you with the newsletter. What about you? Any fun plans for the break?”

“Mm, not really. I’ll probably just stay home for the most part to spend time with my family, and maybe meet up with some friends from high school. Minghao and I did plan on going ice-skating so he could teach me, but his parents were in town a week earlier than he expected so I told him to spend time with them instead. The rink is open all year, anyways.”

“I can teach you, if you want,” Chan blurts out.

“Wait, you know how to ice-skate?”

He nods, “Yeah, my dad taught me when I was little. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

The Lee Chan asking to hang out with you? You almost have to slap yourself to believe that this isn’t some dream your mind had conjured up to taunt you.

“Are you sure? I’ve taken up enough of your time…”

“No, I want to, and you’ll love it! What do you say?”

You’ve never seen him so enthusiastic like this, reminding you all too much like an excited puppy. If he was one, his tail would surely be wagging back and forth eagerly. How could you say no to that?

“Okay.”

•••

“I swear to God, Lee Chan, if you let me fall I’ll actually smack you.”

He laughs as he coaxes you out onto the ice, wincing a little at the vice grip your fingers have locked his hands in. “I won’t, I won’t, I promise.”

“If I die today, please tell my friends that I love them very much even though all they do is bully me.” About my maybe-crush on you.

“You’re so dramatic,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “I can assure you, Y/N, you’re not gonna die today.”

“We’re walking on ice with blades stuck to our feet.”

His grin only widens while he continues guiding you along the rink walls. You’re aware that it’s very much giving the same energy as swimming next to the edge of a pool, but you might actually rather perish than fall on your butt in front of Lee Chan.

“Fair enough, but it gets easier once you know how to do it. Relax a little, yeah?”

He attempts loosening your hold on his fingers, alarm bells going off in your head instantly at the thought of him leaving you to your own devices, stranded on frozen water with kids half your age whizzing by without a care in the world.

In your panicked state, your hand flies up to grip the wall while the other squeezes his as though your life depended on it. “No, no, no! Chan, please! If you leave me here I will make sure your sorry ass regrets it for the rest of your life!”

“Spend a lot of time thinking about my ass, don’t you?”

Heat assaults your cheeks, burning a fiery trail up to your ears as he throws his head back and cackles. “S-Shut up. You’re so annoying.”

“Just relax a little, okay?” You’re surprised at how much softer his voice becomes once his laughter ceases. “Don’t panic, focus on putting one foot in front of the other… See? There you go.”

You’re still not entirely confident—after all, next to Chan’s relaxed, graceful movements you probably look like a fumbling idiot who’s never walked a day in their life. If he feels the same way, he doesn’t show it; instead he’s patient with you, never pushing you too far out of your comfort level by letting you stay close to the wall. Slowly but surely, the two of you establish a rhythm as you glide across the ice with his assistance, emboldened by the murmured words of encouragement that spill from his pretty lips.

“Do you wanna start moving towards the middle?” he whispers.

You look up from your joined hands, heart skipping a beat at his gentle smile and the way his blonde hair falls over his eyes just a little. Perhaps you’d dare be bold and brush it out of the way for him if you weren’t as wobbly as a newborn fawn, but alas you settle with returning the smile, accompanied by a tiny nod of your head.

And so he pulls you out into the wide open, occasionally looking over his shoulder to avoid crashing into the other skaters, though he doesn’t forget to turn back to you with encouraging grins. It’s unclear what has your heart pounding a mile a minute, it could be the lack of distance between you two or simply the fear that you’d slip and send yourself sprawling across the ice, or perhaps it’s the surreality that you’re willingly spending time with each other when it feels like you were vehemently insisting to your friends that you hated him with every fibre of your being just yesterday.

The placement of your next step is just a tad off, and everything happens in slow motion. Your left foot trips over your right, you lose balance, knees buckling as gravity forces your body forward, your surroundings flash and you brace yourself for impact.

The icy impact that doesn’t come.

Chan stares down at you with widened eyes. “You okay?” His hands are gripping at your biceps tightly as you scramble to steady yourself, suddenly feeling very warm because fuck, you totally jinxed yourself and now he’s going to think you’re a loser—

“Woah, woah, slow down. Don’t panic, remember?” he reminds you, “panic will only make you slip more.”

“This would be a really bad time to let go of me,” you joke breathlessly, still trying to get your skates to stay upright.

“I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” Chan asks, before adding, “put a little more trust in me.” He sounds mirthful, as though you’re not supposed to take the latter part seriously, but even in your frenzied state you can tell his gaze doesn’t share the same jest he conveys with his voice.

You smile at him sheepishly when you’re finally able to stand properly again. “Thanks, I think I tripped because I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, it’s totally normal to slip on your first try.”

“Still, you saved me from humiliating myself in public.”

He smiles wryly, “Well, I couldn’t just not catch you.”

For a moment neither of you say anything; you stare into his eyes, fully aware that both his hands are on your arms still, holding you close as your eyes flit from one part of his face to the other. He’s close, so close. And so unfairly pretty.

You trace his features with your gaze as if trying to commit them to memory, from his cat-like eyes to the tiny moles on his cheek to his soft lips—pretty, pretty, pretty. Everything about Lee Chan is so pretty, and you knew that, you’ve known it all this time; you just didn’t want to admit that you found him attractive.

Chan quietly observes your flusteredness, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth to suppress a grin as fondness blooms in his chest like flowers in a meadow during springtime. He really wasn’t lying when he said you were cute when angry, then again he just finds you cute no matter what. There’s something so endearing about how your eyes nervously dart from one place to another before eventually landing on his face, or how your earlier tumble had left your hair adorably tousled.

He frees up a hand to fix your hair, and your heart practically stops at his gentle touches as he neatly tucks your hair behind your ear, with every brush of his fingertips against your skin sending jolts of electricity through your body. He smiles proudly at his handiwork, seemingly unaware of the effect he has on you. “That’s better.”

You insist on buying Chan hot chocolate from a vendor at the nearby Christmas market despite his protests. “Just take it,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes as you shove the paper cup into his hands, “think of it as a ‘thank you’ for teaching me today.”

“It was fun, I had fun.” He gingerly takes a sip of the piping hot decadence, tongue peeking out to lick the foam off the corners of his mouth. “You weren’t bad for a first-timer, y’know. I’m surprised how quickly you sorta got the hang of it.”

“What can I say? I had a good teacher—what? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just… I think that’s the first time you’ve given me a compliment. Keep going, don’t be shy.”

You wrinkle your nose at him in mock distaste before taking another sip of hot chocolate, gooey half-melted marshmallows coating your tongue in sweetness. “No, thank you. I like humbling you.”

“You’re so mean to me… I kinda like it.”

“Is this your way of telling me you have a—”

“Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?”

The couple that stops you, dressed in tasteful, coordinating maroon outfits, looks to be around your age. You agree immediately, and the girl beams gratefully before handing you her phone, eagerly pulling her boyfriend to pose in front of the towering Christmas tree at the centre of the market.

The girl practically glows with joy when you return her phone. “These look amazing, thank you so much!” Her happiness is contagious as she scrolls through the photos you took, her boyfriend looking on with a smile with his chin resting atop her head. You can’t help but feel somewhat proud, perhaps Mingyu’s photography skills have rubbed off on you just a little.

“C’mon, I’ll take some for you two as well!”

You look to Chan, desperately pleading for help with your eyes. “O-Oh, but we’re not—”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Huh? What are you—”

He shoots you a warning look as though daring you to finish the sentence. With a sigh, you realise he’s right: there’s no use turning the situation into an uncomfortable mess for everyone involved.

Cheeks growing hotter by the minute, you stand next to Chan for the pictures. Shoulders just barely grazing the other’s, arms awkwardly hanging by your sides, smiles stiff and unnatural—if the assignment was passing off as a couple somewhat convincingly, the two of you would still be a million light years away from hitting the benchmark. The real Christmas miracle would be if the ground split into a chasm and swallowed you whole, because this is definitely enough embarrassment for a lifetime.

Chan waits for the couple to be out of earshot before buckling over in hysterical laughter, his guffaws unceasing even when you stare at him like he just grew an extra head. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

You roll your eyes when he holds up his hand as a signal to wait, tapping your foot against the pavement impatiently with your arms folded over your chest as he gasps for air.

“I just think it’s funny,” he begins, finally having calmed down, “that we look so painfully awkward. Wait, let me send them to you right now so you can see.”

“I’m not sure I want to—” Your phone chimes from his message. Unable to evade your curiosity, you quickly go through each one, unable to conceal your disgust as your features contort from the grimace that takes over your face. “Ew, I look horrible in literally all of them.”

“You look fine, Y/N. Look on the bright side, in a few months’ time we can look back on these and have a good laugh over them.”

“You already did and it’s only been two minutes.”

“Oops. I did, didn’t I?”

•••

An hour later, you catch him changing your contact photo to the worst one out of the bunch, devious giggles spilling from his lips as he zooms all the way into your face before hitting ‘save’.

Obviously, you do the same to him.

WEEK TWENTY.

“A little birdie told me that you and a certain soccer player sneaked upstairs at Seo Changbin’s party.”

You pointedly ignore your friend’s teasing grin. “It’s not what you think, Hao.”

“Then do tell, who are you so desperately searching for?”

“I just need to return his jacket,” you mutter absentmindedly, eyes scanning the quad for a certain head of blonde hair with an all-too-familiar letterman jacket folded neatly over your arm.

Minghao’s eyes widen dramatically, an expression so uncharacteristic of him that you can’t help snorting at the sight. “It’s his? I thought it was Vernon’s all this time! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you loved me!”

“It… it slipped my mind,” you admit, “but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal…”

“Of course it is!” He seems almost scandalised that you thought he’d brush off such news. “You were sworn enemies with the guy just before winter break! And now you’re telling me he gave you his jacket and you also hung out over the break? You owe me a week’s worth of lunch.”

“What? Why?”

“If I hadn’t cancelled on you because my parents were in town you wouldn’t have gone ice-skating with your Prince Charming. I made this all possible.”

“Your parents did,” you point out matter-of-factly, “and anyways, he’s not my Prince Charming.”

“I beg to differ.”

You whirl around at the familiar voice only for your jaw to drop to the ground quicker than Professor Park can give out failing grades. Lee Chan stands before you in all his glory, head attractively tilted to the side as he gazes at you with a lopsided smile, one hand tucked in his jean pocket while the other runs through his hair. His purple hair.

He looks… good. Really good.

“You’ll catch flies like that,” he muses when he realises you’re not going to stop gaping anytime soon, and places a curled index finger beneath your chin to gently push your mouth closed.

“You—your hair—when—”

“Oh, that?” he dismisses casually as though he’s not currently the source of all your distress, “like, two days ago, thought a change would be nice. Why? Do you not like it? I knew I shouldn’t have gotten it trimmed—”

“No!” The answer comes out far louder than you had intended it to and draws more than a few confused stares from passing students. You can’t see, but Minghao’s about to burst a blood vessel from how hard he’s holding back laughter at your accidental outburst. “It—it looks… good,” you mumble, ears burning under the blanket of your hair.

Chan’s telling smirk is all you need to confirm that he asked the question fully knowing what your response would be. “Well, if you like it then that's all that matters.”

You hate it, you hate him, you hate what he’s doing to you.

“Your jacket,” you blurt out, not trusting yourself to formulate a full, coherent sentence as you thrust the material into his arms. “Washed and everything.”

“Keep it.”

“What?”

“Keep it,” he repeats, a little firmer this time.

“Why?”

“Because I like how it looks on you more.”

Stupid Lee Chan and his stupid flirty self. “I—but you—”

“She’d love to have it,” Minghao interrupts, paying no mind to the look of betrayal splayed across your face, “and she says ‘thank you’.”

Embarrassingly, your voice comes out a mere squeak. “I—I guess?”

With Minghao’s support, Chan gently pushes the jacket back into your arms. “You’re welcome,” he says with a genuine smile, “I’d love to stay but I have a meeting with my academic advisor. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You can only nod dumbly, still in shock over all that happened even after he’s long become a speck in the distance. Minghao calls out your name softly but you remain unresponsive, eyes unfocused as he waves his hand before your face. He wonders if you’re still breathing.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he breathes out. Of all his years of knowing you, he’s never seen someone reduce you to such a state before. It’s kind of impressive. “You’re so whipped.”

You blink down at the jacket, subconsciously clutching it tighter to your body.

“Shit,” you curse softly after several beats of silence, “I think I am.”

WEEK TWENTY-FOUR.

As members of the newsletter team, it’s only fair that you’d be the first to get a copy of the latest issue.

“This bakery looks really good, Josh,” Vernon remarks, idly flipping to the next page of his copy, “ooh, are those cinnamon rolls?”

“The best cinnamon rolls,” Joshua corrects, “they got the pastry-to-cinnamon-to-icing ratio down perfectly.”

You hum, stomach quietly rumbling at all the photos of the treats he tried. “They must be really good if you gave them such a glowing review. I’m gonna get Hao to go with me sometime.”

Bless Joshua Hong for essentially being the student population’s little lab rat. You’ve almost never had a bad meal whenever you go outside campus to eat because of Michelin Shua.

Almost.

Seungkwan snorts, “My sweet, innocent child, Y/N, you keep forgetting that he writes nice reviews for all the places he goes to even if their food sucks.”

“I don’t wanna be mean or make enemies! Plus, have you guys never heard of the phrase ‘see the good in everything’? I swear this place is actually good, though.”

“Mm, you sure it has nothing to do with the girl who works there?”

“How—how did you…”

Seungkwan regards him haughtily, lips stretching into a cheeky smile. “I have my sources.”

“Did you spy on me? You creep!”

You shake your head fondly at their banter as you glance down at your phone, eyes immediately bugging out of your head when you notice the time and all the missed calls. “Gotta go,” you mumble, aggressively stuffing your copy of the newsletter into your bag.

“Woah, what’s the rush?” Vernon asks. To no one’s surprise, he’s on Seungkwan’s page because you all know he’s not-so-secretly-anymore invested in the drama people anonymously confess, in particular the girl who’s recently been asking for advice on confessing to her best friend.

Wonwoo smiles amusedly, eyes twinkling with mirth behind his glasses. “You’re going to meet Chan, aren’t you?”

“I’m not. What makes you think I’m meeting him? I have other friends outside of him. I could be meeting with Hao.”

“You start babbling when you get defensive.”

You freeze, hand hovering just above the doorknob. “No, I don’t. You’re a liar, Mingyu.”

“Just go,” Joshua says, making a shooing motion with his hand, “don’t keep lover boy waiting.”

“He’s not lover boy!”

The last thing you hear before closing the door behind you is a smug “called it”.

Damn you, Mingyu.

•••

The field is practically empty when you arrive, only a few jocks remain as they gather their stuff from the sidelines, neither of which are Chan.

Huffing at your own forgetfulness, you take your phone out from your pocket and scroll until you get to his contact. You pace around as you wait for him to pick up, lazily gazing up at the darkening sky with your phone pressed to your ear.

“Sorry, the person you are calling cannot be reached right now. Please leave a message after the beep.”

You end the call and switch to your messages instead, hoping to find texts from him about his current whereabouts. Shoved in a box at the back of your head is the thought that perhaps he’s given up on waiting for you and went home; you want to take that box and burn it.

You decide to try calling again.

“Come on, come on, come on…” you mutter, already starting to curl into yourself as a gust of icy wind rustles through the field. Maybe you should head inside the sports centre, he might still be in there if you’re lucky.

“You’re late.”

A startled yelp escapes you, and you whip around with a hand on your racing heart to find Chan levelling you an unimpressed stare.

“Sorry,” you squeak, “I was going through the new issue with the team and lost track of time. Why are you soaking wet?”

He looks at you weirdly like you just said something totally bizarre. “Because I just took a shower? I’m not going to dinner with you dripping with sweat and in my uniform, I have standards too, y’know.”

“You should’ve dried your hair completely,” you say disapprovingly, “it’s still winter and you’re out here standing with wet hair, you’re gonna catch a cold.” You don’t bring up the way his white T-shirt clings to his damp torso, teasing the defined muscles underneath. You don’t even want to think about it. “Go back inside and dry it, I’ll wait.”

“But I’m starving,” he complains, but follows you to the sports centre anyways.

“I don’t want you catching a cold and then passing it to me. I can't be sick, I have a column to run.”

“Mhm, and it totally has nothing to do with you caring about me and not wanting to see me sick.”

You shiver as you step through the automatic doors. Universities love running the AC on full blast like electricity costs nothing, you’ve come to realise. “Exactly.”

Chan folds his arms across his broad chest—again, you don’t want to think about it—and a pout settles on his lips. “Fine, then let’s just go eat. You can just avoid me if I do end up getting sick.”

“For God’s sake, just go,” you groan, pushing him in the direction of the first hallway that leads to the men’s locker room.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he grins, “it’s attractive.”

“I’m going to leave if you don’t hurry.” That seems to do the trick and he relents, but in true Lee Chan fashion he turns around and winks once he gets to the door.

You have to duck your head so he doesn’t see the growing smile on your face.

•••

“This is why I don’t dry my hair completely, with damp hair I can at least push it back, but now it’s just getting in my eyes.”

“Okay, you big baby.” You don’t know what he’s talking about, his hair looks so soft and fluffy like this. Your hand itches to run through it.

“Oh? We’re on ‘baby’ terms now?”

You dodge his question in favour of gazing up at the neon sign. “Rocket Diner? Good choice.”

Chan hums. “Yeah, saw it got a good rating on Michelin Shua.”

“You read the last issue?”

“I read most of them,” he admits. “I skip your column when it’s not about me, though.” He must’ve seen the pure horror that flashes across your face, because he chuckles. “I’m just joking, Y/N, I do read them. You’re good at writing, seriously.”

You smile shyly at his genuine compliment. “Thank you, really.”

The two of you pick a booth at the far back and place your orders, most of the selections being Joshua’s recommendations. He’d be so flattered.

“So… one more game before the championship, are you nervous?” you ask as the server takes away your menus.

“A little… we want to keep the winning streak going, so we’ve been practising more, but everything’s going well so far. Are you coming to the next game?”

“Of course,” you reply, smiling at the server in thanks when he brings you your sodas, “what kind of sports column writer would I be if I didn’t?”

“Will you make me a glittery sign that says ‘Go Chan’ in all caps?”

You pause to mull over his request, “I’ll make you one if the team makes it to the championship.”

He grins cheekily, “I was joking again, but since you’re the one who offered—sure, I’d love one and I’ll definitely hold you to it.”

“You better keep it forever after that, I want glitter to haunt every crevice of your life.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, “You have creative threats, I’ll give you that.”

You smile over the rim of your glass, idly stirring the ice cubes around in the fizzy beverage. “Thanks, it’s my redeeming quality.”

It feels odd, but not unwelcome, to be giggling and talking over dinner with Chan as though you’ve been close friends for years. Perhaps it’s odd because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice them too—the longing glances, the lingering touches, the flirty remarks that still feel genuine somehow, it begs the question if this is a date. Or more importantly, if there’s something between the two of you that goes beyond a simple friendship. How cliché of you, growing a friendship with an old enemy only to then fall for him.

But as he walks you home after dinner, your hands grazing each other’s in that will-they-won’t-they manner while your laughter echoes through the dark when he recounts yet another story about his teammates, you’re starting to think that maybe clichés aren’t so bad.

WEEK TWENTY-SEVEN.

News spread like wildfire at Pledis U, this one is no exception.

You’re walking out of your last lecture of the day with Minghao when gasps and murmurs break out around you. You only manage to catch a few words at a time, but it doesn’t take long for you to piece everything together, and it takes even less time for the blood to start draining from your face.

Minghao knows the look on your face all too well. “Go,” he tells you softly as he takes your bag, “I’ll bring it back to your place, just go.”

You manage a grateful smile before you’re pushing yourself through the swarm of students leaving the lecture hall, hushed apologies spilling from your lips. Your legs carry you as fast as they can possibly go in the direction of the university’s medical centre where the staff at the counter gives you directions to the room he’s in.

Yeonjun and a few others are sitting on the benches outside when you get to the third floor. His neck cranes to where you stand at the top of the stairs upon hearing your quiet pants and offers a tight-lipped smile when your eyes meet.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun whispers back, “the doctor said it’s just a minor sprain and he should be able to fully heal by the championship. He’s just… understandably upset about it all. He trained really hard and then this just… happened.”

“Can I see him?”

“Sure, I’ll go in and talk to Coach for you.”

Nodding in gratitude, you watch as he heads into the room. There’s muffled conversation for about a minute before he steps out followed by an older man who immediately makes a turn around the corner, mumbling something about making a call.

Yeonjun’s still holding the door open for you when your attention shifts back to him, the small smile on his face telling you you have the green light to go inside.

The door shuts behind you as you hesitantly look around, eyes finally landing on Chan who’s already staring back at you. Your heart cracks a little when you see his ankle wrapped in bandages. Even before you became friends with him, you already knew how much the sport and being on the team means to him, so you can’t imagine the pressure and frustration he’s under when a major competition’s just around the corner.

“I have the worst luck ever,” he says when you sit in the chair across from him, “literally right before the championship and this happens.”

“It’ll be okay, Chan,” you say, “if you take it easy and focus on healing, you’ll recover with at least a week left to practise.”

A single tear escapes his eye and falls into his lap as he tilts his head back, blinking up at the bright lights in order to keep his tears at bay.

“I just feel horrible,” he whispers after several moments of uneasy stillness, “this couldn't have happened at a worse time—if I can’t make it to the championship all the guys’ hard work will have been for nothing and it’ll be all my fault. I let them down, I let Coach down.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say firmly, “you didn’t let anyone down and you’ll make a full recovery before the match.”

“But what if I don’t?”

Your hand finds the side of his face, and it’s that moment when he breaks like glass shattering on the ground, droplets gliding down his cheeks behind shut eyes as your thumb wipes them away.

Your other hand finds his clasped ones, resting over them in hopes it’ll provide some degree of comfort, in hopes he’ll feel a little less alone.

“You will, Chan. I promise.”

WEEK TWENTY-NINE.

You should’ve known to never trust Lee Chan.

His ankle healed a few days ago, but he was still advised to take it easy and to avoid vigorous movement for the time being. Yet, as you watch him practise for the first time in two weeks from the bleachers, you can tell he’s doing anything but that.

So when the team takes another short break, you head down to the field to talk to him with your bag hiked over your shoulder.

“Uh-oh, I think you’re in trouble,” Yeonjun says to Chan when he sees you approaching. Even from several feet away, the stony look on your face is unmistakable.

Chan glares at his friends half-heartedly when they let out teasing ooh’s before jogging over to you. “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

“What’s wrong?” you repeat incredulously, “what’s wrong is that you’ve clearly been over-exerting yourself when your ankle just healed! You’re supposed to take things slow for at least a little more!”

His smile instantly fades away. “There’s no time for that, we only have two weeks left, you know that.”

“I do, and I know the championship is important to you all, but you’re only going to increase your chances of getting hurt again if you keep playing like this today.”

“Geez, I’m fine,” Chan snaps, “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you! Excuse me for not wanting to see you hurt again!”

“I just said that I’m fine!” The two of you are too busy heatedly staring the other down to notice the rest of his teammates observing you, prepared to intervene in case things get too ugly. “I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

You can’t help but flinch at the scorn that drips from his voice; it’s like a poison, paralysing your every nerve until you can’t move an inch. “O-Of course I do…” you stammer out, “why wouldn’t I care about you?”

He angles his face to the left, refusing to meet your eyes. Genuine hurt consumes you and burns through your flesh like acid, it feels like a large rock’s been lodged at the back of your throat, making it difficult to speak or swallow.

“Chan,” you call out softly, reaching out to grab his hand. He doesn’t pull away, which you take as the first good sign. “Chan, I care about you so much… and look—at the end of the day you know your body best and you can do whatever you feel like is right, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you again, okay?”

He still doesn’t respond, but you know he’s calmed down judging by the steady rises and falls of his shoulder and the unclenching of his jaw.

Your phone vibrates with a reminder, disrupting the silence between you two.

You check the notification before shoving your phone back in your pocket. “I have a newsletter meeting,” you tell him regretfully, “but I’ll try to stop by later again. Just… just take care, okay?”

The lack of reaction from Chan worries you, a sinking pit forms in your stomach as you wonder if you’ve truly upset him to the point of no return. Perhaps it’ll be better after you both have some time alone. With one last glance at him, you begin making your way off the field.

You barely make it twenty steps when you hear his call of your name.

The last thing you register before your mind goes blank is him jogging up to you; there’s a light pressure on your left cheek, a feeling all too similar to that of soft lips against your skin. Chan’s cheeks are tinted pink when he draws away, the rosy hue growing in intensity as hollers and whistles erupt from his teammates, evidently still watching your exchange from where they sit in a circle just a few feet away.

His shy smile is endearing, as radiant as the sun shining down on you.

“Just so you know, I care about you a lot too.”

WEEK THIRTY-ONE.

“Hold still, something’s in your hair.” Joshua leans closer to Minghao, his fingers picking seemingly nothing out of his silvery hair. He examines the sparkling, minuscule speck on his fingertip before giving your friend a questioning look. “Glitter?”

Minghao groans, your name leaving his lips in a long, drawn-out whine. “See! I told you it got everywhere!”

“It’s not my fault!” It kind of is. “He’s the one who wanted it with glitter!”

“You owe me big time for helping you with that sign,” Minghao pouts, ducking his head after Joshua very kindly offers to check his hair for more glitter.

“I know,” you agree, certain that it wouldn’t turn out as well as it had without the assistance of Minghao’s artistic flair, “feel free to name your price anytime.”

As always, Wonwoo had managed to get you all front row seats at the championship, his reasoning had been the same as last year’s—“How is my sports column writer going to write about the game if she can’t even see what’s going on?” Works like a charm every year, and neither of you are ashamed about sneaking the rest of the team plus a few other friends into your exclusive section.

But this also meant the hanging shade covers do little to shield your faces from the blazing sun, prompting Mingyu to fish his sunglasses out of his bag. Along with his to-go cup of iced tea (at least it used to be) he looks like a dad on vacation, but he makes it work. “When’s the second half starting?” he asks, grimacing after taking a sip from his watered-down beverage.

Vernon checks his watch. “In about five minutes.”

“You think we can catch up?”

“We can, I hope. Belville is doing way better than I’d expected this year, though…”

You find it difficult to tune into the conversations around you, your mind far too occupied by a certain someone on the massive field below. From where you’re sitting, you’re just able to spy him sitting on one of the benches whilst being flanked by his teammates, purple hair almost appearing red in the sunlight as they listen intently to their coach. You wonder how Chan’s feeling; discouraged by Belville University’s unusually good performance? Or is he confident they'll break the tie?

Minghao gingerly sits down next to you to avoid startling you. “Still worried about him?” he asks gently.

“I just hope he’s not feeling too burdened,” you reply quietly, “he puts enough pressure on himself being their ace and all, not to mention how he needs to be careful with his ankle.”

“I’m sure he is, especially after you talked to him about it,” Minghao smiles, softly nudging you with his elbow as a reminder of that afternoon when Chan kissed your cheek on the field. You had called him that day as you were speed-walking to your meeting, words jumbled and frantic as you attempted to tell him everything in a single breath. He still distinctly remembers your almost incoherent rambling before finally putting together the pieces thanks to context clues.

You stare longingly at Chan’s figure, eyes tracing the ‘DINO’ on the back of his uniform as a smile tugs at your lips.

“I hope so.”

•••

You’re sure the frustration the Pledis U players are feeling at this moment must be tenfold of that of your fellow students. Belville manages to score another goal just as everyone was starting to believe it’d be another victory for your school, once again bringing the match to a tie with just four minutes left on the clock.

“This sucks,” Seungkwan groans, burying his face in his hands, “they were so close to winning.”

Wonwoo nods. “Yeah, but you have to admit that this makes it all the more exciting. Y/N, you’ve been taking notes, right?”

You roll your eyes teasingly as you wave your mini notepad around, showing the editor your full page of notes. “Of course, boss,” you joke, “it’s not like I do this for the past games I’ve been to.”

“Well, but that was before you started being distracted by Lee Chan,” Vernon pipes up before shoving the rest of his hotdog into his mouth. This has to be this third or fourth one, much to Joshua’s disappointment, who had already asserted that the stadium still has yet to improve the ketchup-mustard ratio on their hotdogs, but Vernon eats practically anything you give him so no one is surprised.

“I was not distracted by him!”

Seungkwan looks wholly unconvinced by your statement. “Please, you were totally ogling him when he scored that goal just now.”

“And you choked on your water when he lifted his shirt to wipe his face.”

“Xu Minghao!”

“Just telling the truth.”

It’s almost funny how quickly your friends’ collective teasing (read: bullying) dies down when the match resumes, your section falling into severe silence as none of you dare make a sound lest you miss out on a single moment. You and Minghao soon find yourselves pressed to each other with your arms linked, sharp inhales and hisses escaping you two every now and then as the Pledis U team endeavours to score one final goal.

You’re unable to peel your eyes from Chan, his purple hair bouncing as he runs across the grassy pitch alongside his teammates, skilfully passing the ball from one to another towards the goalpost.

Regardless of how many games you’ve been to in the past, you’ve never once felt immune to the effects of the adrenaline you get as the timer counts down to the final seconds. At this point, you and Minghao are squeezing the hell out of each other’s arms, and despite no words being exchanged you know you’re both hoping the team will manage to pull through—no, they definitely will.

Yeonjun passes the ball over to Chan as they near the Belville goalkeeper, and it feels like time has stopped when he kicks it with full force. Your eyes follow the ball slice through the air like a sharpened knife, you don’t know if you’re even breathing at this point.

It goes in, and time unfreezes as the entire stadium erupts into cheers and applause. Next to you, Seungkwan and Vernon squeal while crushing each other into a bear hug, and even the usually-stoic Wonwoo lets out delighted shouts before clapping you on the shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips when he remarks that you’ll definitely face no shortage in material to write about.

Out on the field, the Pledis U team tackles Chan in a huddle, their hollers so loud you can hear them from all the way on the stands. It doesn’t take long before they’re raising him to their shoulders, even tossing him into the air a few times. Yearning blooms in your chest, and you secretly wonder if it’d be appropriate to run down there to celebrate this moment with him.

As though reading your thoughts, Minghao lightly bumps his hip against yours. “Go,” he urges with a grin, “you know you want to.”

“What if he doesn’t want me there, though?”

“He definitely does,” Mingyu reassures, shoving the glittery sign you and Minghao spent all night working on into your hands, “go get him, tiger.”

The smiles on your friends’ faces are all the encouragement you need as you make your way off the grandstands, heart thumping wildly in your rib cage like a rogue drum when you reach the edge of the pitch. You take the first step onto the field, grass crunching under your feet as you make your way towards the team, the sudden realisation that everyone on the spectator stands can see you with your big obnoxious sign has your previously-gained confidence dissipating into thin air little by little.

Yeonjun’s the first to spot you, pulling away from the group huddle with a smirk before exchanging whispers with the guys beside him. Confusion writes itself all over Chan’s face when they abruptly set him down, the look of bewilderment in his eyes melting away when he sees your approaching figure.

He jogs up to you, sweaty purple hair pushed off his forehead and practically glowing with happiness as he beams. “You came,” he breathes out.

You grin back. “Of course I did. Congratulations, I knew you could do it. Is your ankle feeling okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” His gaze flickers down to your sign, his smile so wide that it threatens to split his face as the blinding gold ‘GO CHAN’ glitters up at him. “You actually made me one?”

“Hao helped a lot, you know I’m hopeless with the arts and crafts stuff,” you admit shyly, “think of it as a victory present.”

“That’s it? Don’t you think I deserve a little more for that last goal?” he teases.

“Well, what were you thinking of?”

He steps closer to you with a coy smile. The proximity makes you dizzy, makes you feel like a blushing schoolgirl talking to her crush for the very first time. “Hm, I do happen to have a few ideas...”

You raise a brow. “Why don’t you show me, then?”

“I’d prefer if you do it.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Chan tilts his head, challengingly, enticingly. Huh, you never noticed how long his lashes are. “Am I at least your idiot, though?”

This is it—you’ve truly fallen. Somewhere along the line, traded insults and heated glares evolved into shared giggles and longing glances. Somewhere along the line, you went from hating him with your whole being to making room for him in your heart.

Somewhere along the line, you’ve fallen for the boy with infectious laughter and endless zest.

And so when you reach up to cup Chan’s cheek, pulling him in to press your lips to his, you know in your heart that you don’t regret it one bit.

“See?” he murmurs when you part for air, smiling sweetly as he rests his forehead against yours, “I knew you can never get enough of me.”

“You talk too much, Lee Chan.”

“You should do something about it.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

a/n: everyone wish my love the bane of my existence a happy birthday or you owe me 20 dollars /j (uh it’s not the 11th anymore where i live but that’s my fault </3) anyways feedback is always highly appreciated and important to me :> so do let me know what you think hehe 💕 thank you for reading besties!!!

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lemonlushff-iy · 4 years

Photo

Do you want to play a game?

You do? Good.

You know how these games work if you’ve ever seen one of Clearwillow’s...but game rules are HERE since it’s slightly different! I hope this is fun for people...that was my goal! And I hope you catch the “Easter Eggs” in it. I’m curious how many people will find them all.

I’ll post everything once it’s done on FFN and AO3, and you can catch what I’m doing for @clearwillow‘s game early on my Patreon HERE! (It might be more smut...It might be fluff. WHO KNOWS! It will be OLR related...and it will go up as soon as it’s finished!)

Special thanks to @underwater0phelia for kink help and @clearwillow for additional edits...and the IYFF BC for brainstorming! Art by @clearwillow for @eringobroke - used and edited with permission.

And now without further ado... The first treat (aka, the “freebie”).

Starting Fires

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the Inuyasha universe.

"Inuyasha, stop," Kagome giggled, trying to wriggle out of his hold as he pressed wet kisses up her neck. "I don't want to burn your bacon…"

"It's just bacon," he reasoned, his hands sliding up under her shirt. Or should he say his shirt? Fuck...there wasn't a better sight in the world than his best friend...his best girl...Kagome...Wearing his shirt in their kitchen in their house. Now that he had her again, he weren't never letting go of her. "I don't mind eating something else for breakfast."

"You will when your stomach is rumbling later," she blushed, grabbing his hands and pulling them down, his fingers grazing over the lace fabric of her panties. "Behave yourself and go grab a cup of coffee."

"I'd rather grab your—"

"—Coffee!"

She reprimanded, flipping the bacon in the pan. He placed a gentle nip to the side of her neck before moving away from her, a disappointed pout on his lips.

"Fine. But let it be known that I'm doing it under protest," he grumbled, moving to his cabinet to pull out a mug.

"Your protest has been duly noted, Sir," she teased, turning away from the stove to pick up her own cup of coffee. She brought it to her lips, sipping from it as she watched Inuyasha pour himself some. Their life together felt so surreal still. It felt strange to wake up in their house and cook them breakfast.

But it was a good kind of surreal.

The kind where she found herself pinching her arm to make sure it wasn't all some crazy dream. This was their life. And...she loved it.

"Mmm," he moaned, taking a sip from his cup. "As good as ever, Kags," he grinned toothily, and she risked entering his personal space to press another kiss to his lips.

"Glad you like it," she replied, running away from him again when he moved to squeeze her ass. She removed their bacon and eggs from the pan as a text message chimed on both of their phones, and Inuyasha raised a brow in curiosity. She watched him slide his thumb across the screen, before muttering out a low "Huh" as he read the text.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up their plates and placing them onto the island.

"See for yourself," he shrugged, placing the phone down next to her plate. "It's from Sango."

That already piqued her curiosity. Kagome picked up the phone, leaning over the countertop as she read it.

"Hey Guys!" She began aloud. "Miroku and I decided to throw a Halloween party this year. We know it's a bit last minute, but we were hoping you guys could come since you aren't heading back out to California like you thought. Let us know if you can make it! Trying to plan in terms of food. Love you!"

"Love you too," he grinned, and she couldn't stop the shy smile even if she wanted to. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing that again from him. The words were like a balm to her soul.

"What do you think?" Kagome asked, handing him his phone back as he began digging his fork into his eggs.

"Up to you," he shrugged. He really didn't care either way. He was just glad he didn't have to go out to California with her. Though, to tell the truth, he wouldn't have minded. They could have had a night in...just the two of them...And he was always a fan of nights in with her. But..."We can go. I know you wanna…"

It was true too. He had seen the way her eyes lit up when she was reading that message. The way she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Kagome didn't want to spend the night in. She wanted to spend her first Halloween back in Montana at a party with old friends.

"But...You...Don't?"

He shrugged.

"Don't matter either way. I'm fine going. I'm fine staying home and fucking ya seven ways from Sunday."

"Yash!"

"What! It's tha truth," he replied with a smirk. "And you can't tell me ya don't like the sound of it," he continued, running his tongue over his fangs. The cute little blush he pulled from her was worth it.

"Well...How about a compromise?"

He paused, lifting his brow in curiosity.

"Go on…"

"What if we went to the party...Just for an hour or two...and then afterward we can come home and have sex? Oh! We can even wear couple's costumes again!"

The phrase couples costume made his butt clench so tight he could probably twist off a beer cap with his cheeks.

"I'll agree to go to the party...but not the couple's costume."

"But Yash," she whined, coming around the island to take his hands. "That's part of the fun…"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll wear something slutty?"

"N—" He began, ready to tell her no again when his brain processed her offer. "Keep talking."

"I'll wear something slutty and sexy?"

"...Uh-huh...And what else?"

"...And you get to take it off of me?"

He almost said yes...but he was a greedy fucker. He was probably gonna take it off of her even if she hadn't offered that.

"Do I get to do more than that?"

"You mean other than wear a matching outfit?"

"I do."

"Well," she began, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips in thought. "I'm assuming that sex is a given…"

"But you can say it anyway, and make it interesting," he shrugged. If he was going to get roped into this...because he was going to say yes, because he loved her...then he wanted to squeeze as much as he could out of this.

"Ok...If you do it, sex is on the table...and I'll also add you picking the place and position," she decided, causing his eyes to light up.

Place and position huh?

"Well...In that case Darling, you've got yourself a deal!"

Her childlike squeal and the way she giddily clapped her hands, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, made him feel like he made the right decision.

"Now let's talk costumes…"

He groaned, shaking his head and digging his fork into the eggs on his plate.

Then again...Maybe not…

He let her prattle on for a while, running different ideas past him...But he knew that it ultimately wouldn't matter. He was going to give in to whatever she wanted. If she wanted him to go as a hot dog, and she was going to be a bottle of mustard? That was what was going to happen. Wasn't sure how she could make it sexy...but sure. Her call. Prince and Princess? No fighting it. Batman and Catwoman…

It had piqued his interest, but she almost instantly changed her mind. The cowl would be uncomfortable for his ears.

So, she decided on a fireman and a dalmatian. He looked over at her phone when she held up a picture of the costume she had found for him and sighed.

"That's what you want?"

It didn't look too bad. And it looked like he could maybe get away with just wearing the pants. He was going to have to be sneaky about it though...He could do just a t-shirt and those pants.

"Please?" she beseeched, batting her long lashes at him. "It will be so cute! And you'll look so good!"

He tilted his head to the side, and she chewed the inside of his lip as she watched him roll her suggestion around in his head. She really liked the fireman outfit. She thought it would be fun! And he would look good in it too...She could already picture him slowly taking off the jacket to reveal his bare torso...the suspenders holding up his pants hanging limply at the sides as he slowly peeled himself out of—

"—What are you thinking about Kagome?"

She looked up at his face and saw him looking at her, a smirk stretching his lips as he limply held the phone, leaning down across the island.

"N-nothing," she blushed, swiping out to grab the phone from him, but he pulled it away from her at the last second.

"Nu-uh. I can smell it when you're lying…and I can smell it when you're—"

"—NOTHING!"

She insisted, grabbing the phone from him this time, and his grin turned predatory.

"Ain't nothing, or you wouldn't be smelling like that," he countered cheekily before his gaze began to darken. "Ya know...You don't have to keep that bottled up…"

"Inuyasha," she warned as he straightened, running his carefully filed and declawed fingers along the island countertop as he slowly came around to her side.

He was ignoring her, however.

"Kagome," he replied, closing in on her in just a few short strides. "Were you thinking about me in that fireman outfit?"

Sometimes she swore he could read her mind.

"N-no…"

"Liar," he purred, placing his hands onto the granite top on either side of her hips. He had effectively trapped her...and he was looking at her like prey.

It made her swallow because her mouth was suddenly dry. And made her lower abdomen heat. The intensity and desire in his gaze...the slight glint of fang in the morning light…

Fucking hell...She wanted to be his prey. Wanted to be captured and eaten and...eaten…

He inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lowly moaned, "Fuck Kags…"

"W-what," she swallowed, and his smirk widened into a fangy grin before his lips crashed into hers.

AN:

I WILL ONLY DO THIS WALL OF TAGS ONCE! All future treats will be completely hidden under cuts so I don’t spam everyone’s timeline with in your face kink!

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @i-dream-of-soup, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @animemomma96, @ayari17, @underwater0phelia, @sailorbabydoll92, @l-taisho29, @animelove1313, @littlemissinukag, @gofoulpuppycollector, @umacaking, @chanin29, @willowandfog, @lebiishoujo, @theinuyashareader, @bluejay785, @irrationalandimpossible, @cstorm86, @ruddcatha, @desiree239, @littledaisy91, @liz8080, @cannibalsforbreakfast, @horriblehowl, @arcprz, @daisy-st-pati3nce, @senneth-pendra, @nsr0716, @eringobroke, @kagometaishostory, @thisshipisbananahs, @sunsetskys, @ajoy3fanfics, @sangoslays, @v0dka-cat, @cloudsz04, @lavendertwilight89, @yurawiththegoodhair, @saturnsilence, @lavaffair, @blairex, @fawn-eyed-girl, @fandomobsessions016, @neutronstarchild, @preciouslyours, @kalsies, @shnuggletea, @ladyphoenix0711, @littlestuffstohide

See you at 500 notes!!

#olr halloween game #lemon's reblog smut game #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inuyasha #inukag #DAMNIT CARRA #Ode to Carra #Clearwillow #rancher #cattle rancher #western #romance #angst #one last ride #lemonlushff

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tastyykpop · 3 years

Note

jeno extra filthy degradation please 😭

ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ

Pairings: jeno x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: dom/sub themes, degradation, brat!reader, brat tamer!jeno, spanking, fingering, eating out, overstimulation

you were annoying

that was as simple as jeno could make it. he found you absolutely insufferable. and the countless of times you've opened your mouth to make a stupid comment was like nails on a chalkboard.

sure you were pretty and kind to others but not very much to him. you were rude, cocky, and persistent, it was your way of getting his attention. and to say it worked was an understatement, you were on jenos mind 24/7. no matter where, when, or who he was with, he could only think about you. of course, you were the same, but that's because you've had a crush on him since trainee days and almost everyone in SM knew.

jeno knew.

since you worked at SM as a stylist, it was easy to get closer to jeno and work your magic everyday. you were blatant with every touch, every shameless sentence that entailed more then it should, he couldn't quite ignore it either or tell you to shut up. seriously, it doesn't work.

you're a brat, he would say to himself, nothing more than a brat that doesn't know her place.

which in this case, he was correct.

but to him, your behavior was easy to change. he's noticed how you've drawn blanks when he interrogates you on your behavior, how you downplay your wrongs to see him try and hold back his longing to make you submit. it was a game to you clearly, but jeno wanted to beat it.

so how did you end up under jeno so soon in the practice room?

well, the group had been preparing for a dance practice video and you and a few other stylists were called in to help get them prepare for the camera. jeno was trying his best to stay low and out of your sight. it didn't work, but it was worth a shot.

"happy to see me?"

jenos eyes rolled, "I'd be happy if I saw death staring at me in the eyes." he began walking away until you grabbed his arm, making him put his hands over his face.

"dont be like that." you push his hands away now seeing jenos annoyed face. "be lucky you're not stuck with someone else. at least I make your life more interesting.

"interesting or frustrating? I think you've got your words mixed up."

you began applying a light foundation on jenos skin, taking in his angelic features before realizing what he said, "impactful I must say. I know you love me, jeno."

jeno makes a face in disgust pushing your hand away from his face, "youre not my type."

"I dont know. chenle told me otherwise...."

"youre a brat."

"and you're close-minded."

"close- you-"

"done. now go dance and make some fangirls or boys scream." you don't bother turning around as you walk towards the back of the dance practice out of the cameras view.

jeno, somewhat red in the face, stood in his starting position for the choreography, you couldnt help but stare at him in awe. hes gorgeous, you can't lie about that. and the way he moved once the music started playing made you feel different. maybe it was your crush on him, but you heated up very quickly while watching him. other staff members weren't paying as close attention on the boys as you were, only their phones caught their mind. you didn't mind, but damn did they not see how hot jeno was when dancing?

sweaty and out of breath, the boys took a break to get a drink of water.

"you did well- you all did actually." handing jeno a bottle of water, he stared between the thing in your hand and you before taking it and chugging the whole bottle. "but I think mark was the one who stood out to me the most."

"what?"

"mhm. mark was very fluid in his footsteps and his movements were clean and precise. a good dancer I must say."

there's something up. you were staring at him the whole time and he knew it, he danced harder just because you were watching. how could you have seen mark when all you did was stare at jeno?

"and hes cute too. surely he's got a bunch of girls and boys ready to throw themselves at him. I would too, he's absolutely perfect."

jeno balled his fist. what game are you trying to play? "you're testing me." he may not like you, or maybe he did, but something about you talking about someone else like that sparked jealousy in him.

"good. maybe you'll do something about it." you put a hand on his chest, jenos heart pounding fast as you came closer and whispered, "I bet you won't. all bark no bite. pathetic if you ask me."

"youre gonna regret your words if you keep speaking."

"oh really," you leaned back, his eyes pierced your curious ones with a sense of fury and annoyance, "and what are you gonna do? spank me?"

just like that jeno pulled you out of the room and into another practice room. he pulled a chair out from the corner and pulled you over his knee.

"jeno, I was just kid-"

he spanked you hard over and over and over again as you wailed and wrapped a tight hand around jenos ankle for support. each spank was painful and to the point unbearable, yet jeno didn't back down. not after he felt he could break you now.

each time his hand made contact with your ass, felt like he was letting loose all the pent up anger you caused him over the past months you've been working here. for him, it was hell. no matter what people would say to you about him did not dictate his feelings about you. right now, he hated you and needed to let that burning passion out by spanking you. jeno wanted you to feel the hell he endured when around you. sure enough, you were feeling it, crying and sobbing on his thigh like an idiot.

you didn't fight back even though you proposed that you hated it. your body seemed to like it more then you thought.

"youre a pest!" he landed another hard hit, "an annoying pest who needs to learn when to shut the fuck up. now apologize."

"no!" you winced at another hit, squirming- no more like trying to grind on his lap because of how painfully wet you've become in just minutes.

"apologize." he repeated.

"you're- you're an idiot if you think I'll give up!"

jeno stripped you of your pants and panties, "its cute listening to little sluts like you thinking they have power over someone much stronger then them. it must be tiring thinking youre charge." he taunted before spanking you again, this time the impact was far greater and almost caused you to scream before jeno clasped a hand over your mouth. with the same hand, he pushed you off his lap and on the floor, leaving your lower half bare for him to see.

you were a pretty sight, a mess to say the least, but jeno loved that. finally seeing you disheveled with tears leaking down your cheeks, he thought of you as his little crybaby. he tried his hardest not to take a picture.

"don't think I didnt notice how your wet cunt leaked all over my thigh" he began, "do you really get off to being put in your place, slut? is that why we're here right now?"

"d-dont be so full of y-yourself."

"oh? but your dripping all over the practice floor, how could i not." jenos lips were close to your heat, teasing you with his eyes and tongue as he glided it just above where you wanted him.

you had nothing to say, yet your eyes told him everything. told him just how you'd defy him any chance youd get only to make him more upset. it wouldn't be fun if your goal wasn't to piss him off.

jeno kept his tongue away from your most needed area, his lips kissing anything but your dripping heat as you bucked your hips into his face. jenos hands would push your hips down and back his face away frowning at your behavior and returning to what he was previously doing. you weren't done though, since he was holding your hips, you grabbed his hair and forced his head where you needed him. his tongue inside you was far from good, it was amazing. and though you realized jeno wasn't pushing your hand away, you pushed and pulled his hair as you kept his head in place so he couldn't stop.

the long strides and the smooth rhythm he had was enough to make you arch against the floor, gasping and calling out his name far to loudly for his liking. but with watchful eyes and a steady tongue, he shamelessly enjoyed it yet he had to be aware of the people in the building. one loud moan and someone would sure walk in to see what's up.

so jeno swatted your hand away from his head and lifted up with a frown. he liked the frightened look on your face as he leaned closer and closer, "if you're this much of a slut for people to hear us, we might as well have just stayed where everyone else was."

"thats hot." you stated blankly, jenos eyebrow raised before realizing how far gone you practically were, with how big and dilated your eyes are. "w-wait no! I'll stay quiet I promise."

"No you wont." jeno got up and grabbed your underwear that layed on the floor, then shoved it in your mouth allowing you to taste yourself. "stay quiet, fucktoy."

"fucktoy?- oh fuck!" you mumbled into your panties as his fingers protruded inside you. at least you were quieter this time.

"tell me when youre about to cum." he said just above a whisper as he watched you slip further and further into bliss. the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each skillful thrust from jenos fingers made his cock grow harder each second. you were so hot, so damn beautiful as you moaned into the panties like a little bitch. jeno loved it too much to say he hated you.

"feels good- f-feels so good, j-jeno." you said quietly into the panties. it was getting harder and harder for you to keep silent as he began rubbing your clit like a desperate man, hungry for your cum. but you did your best keeping low.

you grinded against on his hand, inching closer and closer to what you believed to be your orgasm. clentching tightly around jenos fingers you gasped and spat your panties out, "jeno! i-im gonna-

"cum, fucktoy." he insisted, never removing his fingers from your wet hole as a white substance spilled out. he kept going, in and out, in and out as you clamped a hand over your mouth. so much sensitivity and his fingers were still going.

"stop i-i can't take it!" you found his wrist and tightly held it as you attempted to pull him out.

"youre gonna take this like a good bitch until I want to stop." he said right as your second orgasm washed through you.

too much. you could barely think straight and even tried pulling your hips back but his fingers followed.

too sensitive. you could barely breathe because of the overwhelming sensitivity. yet in a twisted way, it felt good in a strange way. maybe it was the pain of cumming over and over or how jeno worked his fingers. either way, you could feel another one building up.

"please, please, please." you cried hoping for the end, but there was no way jeno was stopping.

"apologize and this will be your last one." He stuck his fingers deeper, if that were possible, and watched you squirm trying to find words to say, but all that came out was drool. "disgusting whore." you slapped him in the face for that.

"I-i am not sor-sorry!"

"im not playing these games anymore. say you're sorry."

jeno growled, deeper and deeper he went and faster and faster he goes before your third orgasm of the day came. your legs shook and your grip got tighter but still to no avail did he stop.

you were very persistent on making jeno angry before, but now you seemed to have started rethinking that apology. "im sorry."

"for?"

"for being rude to you!" you legs shook again and that feeling in your stomach was back, "i-im sorry jeno, but p-please I can't take it!"

he did it. he broke you. and with that he finally pulled his fingers away letting all your cum out.

you cried softly, still a shaking mess from the orgasms and jeno, well he didn't care all too much but he knew he probably shouldn't be too harsh with you about now. so he gently took you in his arms, sitting your bare bottom right on his lap as he rocked you slowly.

"im never leaving after this." you say slowly, "and I know you don't hate me either, I can feel your boner against my ass."

jeno pinches your arm and shushes you. god, you were a pest and maybe youre right. maybe he doesn't hate you like he proclaimed he did. maybe he did enjoy this session in the practice room, but he won't ever say it. not because he's afraid to admit it, but because he doesn't want you to rub it in his face.

#nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #jeno #lee jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #ask #anon

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xtinyaurora · 3 years

Note

Heyyyyy I’m new here :3 could I request ATEEZ reaction to you being a brat? :3

Ateez reaction: Bratty Y/N

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➼ requested?: yes

➼ genre: smut

➼ pairing: Ateez x neutral!reader

➼ Word-count: 2k+

➼ Warnings: nsfw content, strong language, cursing, threads, annoyance, bratty behavior, pet names...

➼ Note: This is not based on their real behavior or meant to represent real life. This is simply a fan fiction and is only for the purposes of fun, it’s a hobby. Read at your own risk!

➼ A/N note: Sorry for updating after a longer time, I had a few mental health issues... Thanks to everyone who waited tho and thank you so much for 200+ followers... Please let me know if you have ideas in mind for a ‘special'! Hope you all like this one tho. Feel free to leave some feedback! Also, let me know if any of you wants to be added to my taglist!

➼ Taglist: @teeztheflag @darkstarlights

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Park Seonghwa

You were sulking because Seonghwa didn’t bought you that dress you saw in one of those expensive shops today. Actually, you could call him your „sugar daddy”. He bought you anything you wanted whenever you wanted, but not today. Today was different, because you already started to provoke him in the early morning, disobeying and yelling at him. He didn’t know what happened to you, even after asking a hundredth of times, you just kept on being bratty towards the male. Soon, he had enough. While the two of you were sitting in the car, at the parking lot of the shopping mall, you kept on complaining about that dress. Seonghwa leaned into your side and grabbed your throat, immediately shutting you up. „You better stop talking, before I lose my shit and hit you right in the face and fuck you right on top of this car, baby. Would you like that? For all people to see how I put you in your place. Huh?” You silently shook your head, a hint of fear written on your face. „I thought so. Now stop being a bratty little bitch and start behaving, understood?” Again, you remained silent, nodding your head this time. Seonghwa then sat back and started the power of the car, driving off, back home.

Kim Hongjoong

Hongjoong finally took a day off, immediately calling you to go on a date but you were mad at him. Why? He knew that you had other plans today but still choose this day to take a break. „Y/N, baby, come on. You know I have no say in this. This is not my fault, so please come to the restaurant we always go to, okay?” You let out a ironic laugh. „Tz. First, you pick the worst day and now you want me to come there myself? Oh no, if you really want to get out with me then you are going to pick me the fuck up.” Hongjoong was kinda shocked, not excepting this kind of behavior. After massaging his temples, since this boy was stressed and annoyed by your way of behaving, he just hung up the call, not in the mood to keep up with you right now. You went absolutely insane. Like, how dare he? When midnight came around, Hongjoong entered the front door, food in his hands. You were sitting in the living room, still pissed about earlier today. A knock on the doorframe made you look up. When spotting your boyfriend, you rolled your eyes and kept watching tv. „Haven’t cool down yet?” You got back to 180. „Excuse me?! Get your ass out of this room Mr. 'I think I can allow myself whatever I want' because yes, I am still mad at you.” He stared at you, not believing what was happing. Since when did you get so bratty? Shaking his head while approaching you and placing the food on the table, he grabbed both of your forearms and looked you deep in the eyes. „Okay now listen here you bratty bitch. You’re gonna listen to me and start behaving or I will punish you so hard that you wish you could turn the time back and thank me for making time for you, okay? I want my good little kitten back because I don’t like nasty strays that don’t obey me. No one would like one, so be happy and appreciate me you ungrateful pice of shit and shut the fuck up.”

Jeong Yunho

He was just staring at you blankly, while you were throwing a tantrum. This already happened a couple of times but it was never this bad. He kept on watching you, until you eventually calmed down yourself. It really provoked you that he didn’t stop you or has done anything for that matter. At some point, you gave up because you knew how well Yunho could control his anger. Honestly, you didn’t even know why you freaked out like that. Both of you were searching for a movie to watch and when Yunho picked one that you already saw and absolutely hated, both of you started auguring. It’s his turn to pick the movie because you picked last time, yet that didn’t sit with you. Maybe you were just having a bad day? At least that’s what Yunho told himself. „Are you done now?” You sat there, at the ground while Yunho sat in front of you, on the couch. „Yea... sorry.” Yunho nodded, pulling you up on his lap. You thought he will cuddle with you but sike, he flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach, over his knees, ass in perfect view for him. „How many hits do you think you deserve? Hm? Maybe 20 or 30? Or... 40 or 50?”

Kang Yeosang

He had this furious and annoyed look on his face. You got kinda terrified now, knowing what a beast this boy could be when he was mad. He watched you until you went silent, sitting next to each other and waiting for what’s going to happen next. You started to get nervous because Yeosang kept looking at you without saying or doing anything. His silence never meant anything good... „Stop looking.” He raised one of his eyebrows. „Stop talking.” You did keep quiet, not knowing what else to do now. „Dumb pet, do you think you’re worth my time? Oh how embarrassing... It’s such a shame that there are so many people who want me yet I chose you over everyone else, an ungrateful little bitch.” His words kinda hurt and you stated to doubt your worth. Maybe he’s right? You maybe should have followed the rules. You shouldn’t have told him no and most important, you shouldn’t have done all of that in front of his friends. You kinda started to regret it but it was way too late now. Even if you did apologize now, Yeosang wouldn’t forgive you, he will punish you no matter what. The more silence there is, the harder the punishment will be. „Go into the bedroom. Take your clothes off and wait for me.”

Choi San

To be direct, you were unnecessarily overreacting. When you visited the boys and watch them while they practiced, San didn’t greet you as usual and you didn’t like that. At all. He was too focused to even notice you tbh. When he finally turned around and spotted you, he rolled his eyes, taking in your grumpy state. He made his way towards you, so he could give you a kiss but you pushed him away. He gave you a questioning look but you just turned your face away. „Hey, give me a kiss.” You still didn’t move, hoping to upset somehow. „Y/N.” His first warning. „Look at me.” Still, you didn’t move. The other members started to notice but kept on practicing because they didn’t wanted to get involved in anything. San exhaled loudly, pulling you up and dragging you out with him. „Don’t touch me!” You yelled at your boyfriend. He didn’t even bother to listen to you. „It hurts!” You hoped that he would loosen his grip a bit, but instead his grip on you got stronger. When he reached his room, he threw you on the bed and undressed himself. „You hurt me!” Still having that attitude on, you again yelled at him. He gave you a murderous look, finally shutting you up. He the hovered over you, staring you dead in the eyes. „If you ever dare to pull something like that in front of the other members again, I will make you regret visiting us, okay? Now better behave, before I completely lose the last bit of my self control, you stupid kid.”

Song Mingi

„Mingi, Mingi! Wake up!” You shook him until he groaned out in annoyance. „Y/N? What’s wrong?” You huffed. „I am bored. You have to do something with me, come on.” You tried to pull him up but he was stronger than you, resulting that you were the one being pulled and laying on top of him now. „Did you loose your mind? It’s three in the morning, let me sleep!” He half yelled, half whispered. As he was about to drift off to sleep again, you pulled on his hair, making him tear his eyes open and cry out loudly. „Ouch! What the heck, Y/N? That hurts!” A smile creeped on your face, finally achieving your goal of waking him up. He just stared at you, giving you a ‘are you serious?’ type of look. „Now that you’re awake, we can do something! Should we watch a movie or should we play some ga-“ „No! We are not going to do any of these! It’s bed time, so lay down! I am not in the mood for all of this.” You smacked his thigh. „No Mingi, get up! What do you not get from 'I am bored, let’s do something’, huh?” He really has enough. „Okay Bunny, you wanna do something? Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘try not to scream while getting your ass beaten and brain fucked out’. Sounds fun, right?” You gulped, then getting pulled and flipped around, so that your backside faced up. At least he’s full of energy now...

Jung Wooyoung

Both of you were sitting in a restaurant. He was already fed up with your behavior but he let go because he didn’t had enough strength to deal with you right now. This cutie was so hungry and tiered after practice, that he didn’t wanted things to go wrong but you really left him no choice. Just because you didn’t wanted to eat in this restaurant and wanted to go to your favorite one instead, you stated to act up, gaining lots of attention from all the nagging and yelling. Wooyoung grabbed your upper arm and pulled you near him, whispering in your ear so others wouldn’t hear. „Shut your mouth now Y/N, I’ve had enough of your bullshit. You’re so fucking embarrassing you stupid brat.” He then let go, harshly shoving your arm away and leaning back. When the waiter approached you two, to note your order, you remained silent. After rolling his eyes, Wooyoung ordered food only for himself. When he finished eating, he stood up and threw some money in the table. He was about to walk away when he turned around to face you. „If you don’t get up within the next two seconds, I will break your legs.” He gave you a last condescending look before walking out. You obeyed and followed him out, joining him in his car. He didn’t even spare you a glance, driving straight to your apartment a grin forming on his face, several ideas for your punishment popping into his head.

Choi Jongho

Hit after hit, you put in more effort to annoy him. You soon realized that this wasn’t enough, so you started pinching and biting him. „Ouch, Y/N, are you crazy?!” Ah, finally! You smirked at him and wiggled your eyebrows, satisfied that he finally showed a reaction. „Do you think that’s funny?” You smiled. „Very. And now that I finally have your attention, you can do something with me. Oh and, get me some water please I am thirsty.” He stared at you in disbelief. „Are you okay, Y/N?” You gave him a look of disapproval. „Uhm, yea? I still am but if you don’t get me my water I won’t be and than I am going to hit you, again.” He was kinda amused now. „Oh? Where does all that attitude come from, all of a sudden?” You shrugged with your shoulders. „I don’t know and I don’t care. You gotta deal with it now.” You laid down on the couch both of you were sitting on and placed your legs on his lap. „I am still waiting for my water Jong.” He didn’t move. You wanted to raise your head up to scold him but he was faster than you, now hovering over you. „I will give you something else to drink. Get down and kneel. We have to clean that bratty mouth of yours, yea? Come on brat, suck me off. You don’t want me to get mad now, do you?”

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Text

You Aren’t Somebody? (Bucky x Reader)

Bucky x reader

Word count: 2647

Summary: Bucky knows that the reader has struggled with an eating disorder before, but thought they were doing better. Little does he know, they had just gotten better at hiding it. Until one night, he catches her doing something she had promised she had stopped

Warnings: eating disorder, purging, angst, fluff

Tags @abitgryffindorky @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @barnesplums @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @thundering-barnes

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s finals week and I am running on energy drinks, reading fanfiction, and longgggg hot showers. But the semester is almost over, and then I have no obligations aside from my hobbies. I see the requests and I’m working on them I promise! I have a list of all the requests that I get, and I am working through them I PROMISE!!! Thank you all for all of your support.

A/N 2: This deals with heavy and dark themes of mental illness. The specific warnings are above. If you feel that in any way reading this will be harmful to your mental health and your journey, PLEASE skip it. I write from my own experience and I know what I would’ve wanted to hear in these situations, and writing/reading fics helps me feel comforted. This fic is based on one experience more specifically than most of my fics, so I apologize if it’s not exactly the same as your experience. This is what I would’ve wanted to hear. If you need or want someone to talk to, vent to, or get advice from, feel free to message me, really. I’m here! <3

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Bucky was standing in front of you, blocking the door. His piercing blue eyes were locked on you, your own refusing to meet his.

He wanted answers that you were not ready to give.

“Y/n, please. I just want to talk about this”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky.”

He looked you up and down. Your hair was in a messy bun, a few loose strands sticking to your tear stained cheeks. Your eyes were puffy, and your face was red, voice raspy. He took a deep breath. “You told me you would tell me if it was getting bad again.”

“You promised.”

You closed your eyes. He wasn’t wrong, you had promised. But that was because you never thought you’d see the day when you were purging again. You thought you had gotten over it. You really thought that this time you wouldn’t slip up.

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You had been struggling with an eating disorder for a while. The cause, you weren’t quite sure. An innocent diet soon turned into a competition for yourself, but the end goal was never there. At first you had thought it was just about the weight and how you looked, but then you found that some of your behavior patterns were tied to your emotional ones.

Stress was the major trigger, you had come to learn.

Whether it was a mission gone wrong, you getting injured, someone else getting injured, or even just basic social interactions you thought could’ve gone better, you found yourself inclined to comfort yourself with food.

Until you panicked, which would lead you to the bathroom with music blaring and water running to cover up the noises of your retching.

You hated it, and every time you told yourself it was the last time. But the more you did it, the more you felt the urge to do it. At first it was triggered by large stressors, but now smaller things could trigger you to want to throw up. You tried to keep it hidden, unaware of the true reasons for why you did it. You were able to help yourself sometimes, it wasn’t worth bringing anyone else into.

You couldn’t explain it to yourself, so how were you supposed to explain it to anybody?

The best way that you had figured out how to describe it was that whenever you felt a negative emotion, you could soothe it in a physical way with food, especially with all the warm comfort foods that are known. But at the same time, that feeling lasted as long as you could taste, and you would feel guilty as you felt full. When you threw up, it felt like you were also throwing up the negative emotions.

But when you said it out loud, it didn’t make sense. When people are sick and throwing up it’s one of the most uncomfortable feelings ever. Inducing it hurts sometimes, but it’s almost not as bad. Like you know it’s coming, and you’re in control of what’s happening and you could stop at any point. And there had been times where you could soothe yourself in other ways, and you knew your own physical limits. You knew when you had to stop for your own health.

Until you couldn’t stop.

Which is what led to you fainting on a mission after purging too much. Your electrolytes had bottomed out and you almost had a heart attack at an age no one should. Bucky, your boyfriend who was on the mission with you, had put it together when the first words out of your mouth upon gaining consciousness were “Is this a glucose drip?” while tugging at the IV.

He hadn’t been mad, not exactly. He wasn’t mad at you but he was furious with himself for not noticing, and for making you feel as though you couldn’t tell him. You assured him that you did trust him, but he wished you had come to him before you could’ve gotten yourself, and those on the mission, seriously hurt or killed.

Nonetheless, you still didn’t know how to talk about it.

“Can you try to tell me about it?” he asked gently, running a hand through your hair. He held you to his chest, you unable to meet his eyes.

“It won’t make any sense,” you had said, tears glazing your eyes.

“I want to understand. Can you help me understand?”

You paused for a moment. “It’s a long story and I don’t know where to start. There’s so much going wrong.” you had said, tears beginning to streak down your face.

“I have all the time for you. And it doesn’t have to make sense, these things rarely do. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to listen.”

And true to his word, he had. He had listened and held you while you tried to talk about what you could. He didn’t understand everything, he naturally had a ton of questions, but they weren’t for that moment. He had promised to help you the best that he could, and you had promised to try and tell him whenever you felt the urges get too strong. And if you couldn’t, to tell him after.

It was easier to talk to Bucky than anyone else. Not because he was your boyfriend, but because he seemed to understand you more than anyone else could. He had his own share of mental health struggles. Neither of you knew exactly what the other was going through, but you both understood that it was easy to feel alone and guilty even though you couldn’t control it.

It was rough, but he was never mad. He was sometimes firm, and sometimes you had gotten angry with him. Only to later apologize to him with tears in your eyes. He was never mad with you. He understood that this was something internal. Upon research he had done and conversations he had had with Bruce, he understood that this had nothing to do with him. Some people thought eating disorders were about getting attention when it was one of the furthest things from the truth.

All he could do was love you and be there for you.

And to your surprise, talking about it did help.it took a long time, months, of long and hard conversations, panic attacks, slip ups, and really dark days. But it got to the point where Bucky felt that you were doing better, making an effort to tell you how proud he was and how much he loved you.

And you were doing better, in a way. But you had been slipping up more recently, and you hadn’t told Bucky. You didn’t know how. After going the longest you’d ever had between slip ups, you found yourself retching over the toilet. You would have gone to Bucky but he had been away on a mission that was extended a few days. You couldn’t interrupt him because your feelings were too much to handle. People needed his help more than you did.

You were going to tell him, but he had been so tired when he had come back. He needed his time to relax, and it wasn’t the right time to tell him. And the next day when he was rested, you felt that it was irrelevant. Any negative feeling you had felt the day before had since past, and you didn’t see the point in bringing it up today. It would worry Bucky, he wouldn’t want to go on missions, and you weren’t going to do that to him. Besides, it was just one time.

Right?

You soon found yourself purging when Bucky wasn’t around. If he had gone out with Steve, if he was on a mission, or if he was down in the gym you found yourself taking more opportunities to give into your urges. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, but you were spiraling. But at this point you had been slipping up so many times, you had been so secretive about it.

It would kill Bucky inside to know that you were hiding this from him again. He would feel like you didn’t trust him. You trusted him with your life.

You just didn’t want to let him down. Not again, not when he had explicitly told you to come to him and you had been blatantly ignoring that.

You wanted to tell him, you did. But you couldn’t let him being so proud of you be based on a lie.

One day you were hunched over the toilet, legs sahking and tears streaming down your face from exertion. Bucky was away on a mission, so you didn’t even bother with the music or the water. What you hadn’t anticipated was him coming back hours earlier than he should’ve

The mission had gone much more smoothly than anticipated, which everyone was happy about. Bucky was glad he would get a few more hours with you. He had gone up to your shared room and let himself in, surprised to see you weren’t there. But then he heard you coughing from behind a closed bathroom door.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. You had been doing so well, what had happened?

He walked over to the door, knocking on it and calling out your name. He heard you muffle a small fuck before he knocked again.

“Y/n please, let me in.”

He heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, you on the other side washing your face. You could feel the tears from exertion be replaced by ones of shame and embarrassment, biting your lip slightly. What the fuck were you going to tell him?

When you finally turned off the water, you rubbed your face with a towel, sighing heavily into it. When you took it away, you looked long and hard at the doorknob.

Bucky sighed on the other side of the door. “Y/n please. I’m not mad. We’ve been here before, I just wanna talk to you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a breath before you made your expression nuetral and opened the door.

Bucky’s eyes immediately saddened when he took you in. your face was still red and there were tears in your eyes. You had tried to put up a front, he could tell that too. Sometimes you got angry with him because you didn’t want to be vulnerable. He was prepared because like he said - he’d helped you before.

Before he could say anything you crossed your arms. “You’re home early,” you said coldly.

“Y/n.”

“How’d the mission go? Well, I assume.” you tried to slip past Bucky but he was blocking the door.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, the mission went well.” He wanted to be gentle with you. “But how are you?”

You shrugged, trying to appear oblivious. “I’m fine,” voice wavering slightly as you looked away.

“Y/n please. You’re not fine. Can you tell me what happened?”

“The same thing that always happens” you said bitterly. “Something stupid comes up, I start feeling like shit about myself and I ignore it until I’m puking it up with everything else, alright? It’s the same story, different time, and now I have you looking at me all hurt just like I was worried about which is why I couldn’t tell you!” you exclaimed, eyes filled with anger and tears. Bucky looked at you as if you had just punched him in the face. He would’ve much preferred that you had.

“Y/n.”

You shook your head, trying to get through the door that he was blocking. “Bucky, just let me through the door, forget it.”

“Y/n just talk to me please, I -”

“JUST LET ME THROUGH THE GODDAMN DOOR.” You yelled, surprising Bucky. It had been a while since you had gotten this angry or defensive. But he stood his ground. Bucky was standing in front of you, blocking the door. His piercing blue eyes were locked on you, your own refusing to meet his.

He wanted answers that you were not ready to give.

“Y/n, please. I just want to talk about this”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky,” you said, feeling tears threatening to spill over.

He took a deep breath. “You told me you would tell me if it was getting bad again.”

You closed your eyes and felt a pang in your stomach. “Bucky, I - “

“You promised,” he said, voice cracking.

You shook your head. “Why do I have to talk about this. It’s not like I’m hurting anybody”

“You’re hurting yourself, y/n.” he said calmly.

You shook your head and narrowed your eyes slightly, tears falling. “That’s different Bucky, you know it is.”

“You aren’t somebody?”

You looked at him for a moment before a sob escaped your body, leaning on the counter for support as you brought a hand to your mouth. Bucky quickly came up behind you and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you. You started crying harder, embarrassed and ashamed.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know how to tell you, I -”

“Hey it’s okay, it’s alright y/n, I’m here.” Bucky kept whispering reassurances in your ears, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

After some time passed, you didn’t know how long, you were able to calm down enough to take some shaky breaths, hiding your red face in Bucky’s chest.

“When did this start happening again?” he asked softly

“I don’t know… few weeks at least, not really sure.”

He took a breath, trying to stay calm. A few weeks and he hadn’t suspected anything, and you were alone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were on a mission, I couldn’t interrupt that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I got back?” he pressed gently.

“You were so tired Bucky - ”

“Y/n.” he said more firmly.

You paused for a moment, knowing he wouldn’t take those answers. If they were truly the reason then you would’ve told him the next day or the day after, as soon as the opportunity came. There was more to why you waited, and Bucky knew that.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you whispered.

You heard Bucky sigh. He was angry with himself, for not being approachable to you. All he wanted was to make you feel safe enough to come to him, and to hear that you hadn’t because you thought he had expectations for you crushed him. “Y/n, I told you you could tell me about this. When have I ever been disappointed or angry with you?”

“You haven’t. You were just so proud and I - I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I didn’t want to tell you that you were proud of a lie.”

“Hey, hey look at me.” Hesitantly you looked up to meet his eyes. “None of this was you lying. You put in the hard work day after day, and I told you I was here to support you. But I never did the work for you. You did that. I’m proud of you and I always will be because you’re a fighter. It’s okay to have bad days, it’s okay to slip up. It’s okay to need a little help too, and that’s what I’m here for. A slip up doesn’t erase all the hard work you’ve put in before. I’m proud of you for the progress you’ve made, and of the work you put in. This doesn’t change anything sweetheart.”

He pulled you back into his chest.

“I’ll always be proud of you.”

#Bucky Barnes #buckybarnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x you #MCU fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fic #MCU #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #eating disorder comfort #tw eating disorder #tw

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Coughing in the Bathroom (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

🌸 Coughing in the Bathroom

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: Slight blood, slight language, slight alcohol, emotional cheating]

Part 2

In the world you live in, there’s a terrible thing called ‘Hanahaki Disease,’ and while it is ultimately rare, it is still feared widely throughout the globe. Love is an emotional virtually everyone feels, and it is through that monetary softness that the disease may take root. It affects those whose love is unrequited.

Five years ago, you never thought you would be under its spell.

The first time you met Eyeless Jack was a mess of combined hot headedness and a ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ type of deal. He was so brash and such a know it all! How could you NOT butt heads with him? The two of you spawned a little rivalry, and that rivalry grew to love.

How could you not fall in love with him? He’d been everything you’d ever wanted, and in your line of work, that’s hard to find. You’re what’s known as an ‘independent,’ someone who does not work directly under the Slender Man, but often crosses paths with him due to common goals and your abilities. While there is nothing inherently supernatural or otherworldly about you, you do have the gift of clairvoyance. Your clairvoyance isn’t super special, as you’re only prone to glimpses of the future based on current actions and what might (you are the world’s greatest predictor).

Jack IS supernatural. He’s not human, calls himself ‘a demon of some sorts.

The Slender Man saw potential in the two of you from your rivalry and decided to put the two of you together. It was that proximity that led him to falling helplessly, hopelessly, and ardently in love with you.

You never saw that coming.

Jack had told you he loved you when the two of you had just finished some of the grossest work you’ve done to date. He didn’t want to go back to the safe house the two of you had been holed up in with various other independents and instead urged you to hang out on the roof with him.

“Why are you rummaging through their fridge?” You asked, hands resting on your hips with a smile on your lips.

“Beer?” He finally asked as he poked his head out from the door.

You suppressed a chuckle and threw caution for the night to the wind. “Yeah, sounds good.”

With that, Jack tossed you a bottle, before snatching one for himself. Normally, he doesn’t drink, but he felt as if he needed the liquid courage to face you. He felt like he was being obvious with his intentions, but you’d managed to miss every gesture and hint he threw up to this point. If you’re anything like he is, you’re dense.

The two of you walked upwards and opened the door to the roof and were greeted by the lights of the city. The two of you don’t spend much time in people cluttered areas, but when you do, you always spend a moment together. He took a seat next to you on one of the lawn chairs hanging around and cracked the drink open, practically gulping it down.

“Are you thirsty?” You chuckled before opening your own. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down one like that before,” you noted before taking a much smaller sip yourself.

Jack shifted uncomfortably for a moment as he took the bottle from his lips. It’s not that he was uncomfortable with you, but he was uncomfortable with the possibility that if you didn’t feel the same way, he could be subjected to the disease that’s claimed the lives of some damn good proxies and independents who fell in love with humans they never had a chance with. He hates getting sick, but he doesn’t think he can handle a broken heart and lungs full of flowers.

“No I-,” he took a deep breath. “Reader, I think you’re great.”

You laughed slightly. “I think you’re great too.”

Jack shook his head and took another swig before he attempted to speak again. “Not like that, it’s… I’m bad with words,” he sighed, feeling overwhelmed. The man isn’t used to speaking about his feelings.

You raised a brow. You know Jack, your Jack, to be someone concise, clear and to the point. He’s not one to fumble over his words. He’s not one to get bashful. You know where this is going, you can see it in your mind’s eye, but you won’t say it because a part of you enjoyed his aversion. “Right now you totally suck at speaking,” you lightly joked, which made him crack the tiniest smile.

That’s when he shot you a look. “You already know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?” He deadpanned, eyes narrowed at you slightly in accusation.

You let out a laugh and nodded, hand up in submission, “I did,” you giggled.

“I swear,” Jack breathed out as he tossed his bottle to the stone floor before he snatched yours and repeated the action. Before you could be surprised, he took you in his arms, his lips pressed to yours in a kiss full of everything he just couldn’t say.

Your arms wrapped around him, pleased that he had gotten to the point.

Jack has always made your heart flutter. He’s charming, but in his own way. Even though you have future vision to some varying degree, he has never failed to surprise you. For your first anniversary, he had brought you to the most beautiful flower field you’d ever seen.

“Have you always known that this was here?” You asked, eyes shining over the field full of lavender, sunflowers, poppies and other wildflowers. The scent rivaled that of the Slender Man’s garden.

“I spent the past year cultivating it,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his head resting on top of yours. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

“And I’m guessing you built the gazebo too?”

“Had some help from the proxies. Hoodie is surprisingly good at craftsmanship,” he said with a small chuckle. Jack pressed kisses to the crown of your head.

You allow him to sway you as you listen to the birds sing from the surrounding trees. “Is this what you were up to?” You asked.

Jack breathed out and shrugged. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he teased.

You turned around in his grasp and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hands loosely connected ‘round the back of his neck. “You suck,” you teased, sticking your tongue out before you pressed a kiss to his nose.

Jack laughed, his smile rivaling the warmth of the sun. “Thought that was your job,” he mused, making you gasp and smack his chest. He laughed again before you dropped the feigned annoyed attitude and joined him.

The rest of your anniversary was held under that gazebo, talking well into the night.

When the nights were hard and you were bruised from jobs that were rough, he was always there to pick you back up. You’d come back to the Slender Man’s mansion in need of minor medical attention and had only come to his home because it was close to where you’d gotten banged up.

“You can just wait in the waiting room,” a female proxy said as her green eyes scanned you over with little concern. She gestured for you to head down the hall to your left. “You won’t miss it.” It seemed your injuries paled in comparison to the gunshots, knife wounds, musical instruments to the skull and other more hefty injuries.

You thanked her with a small smile and then walked down the hall. You’d never really spent extended time in the Slender Man’s mansion; you had no reason to. You didn’t serve directly under him. Still, it was nice to be in something regal looking rather than a dirty field house wondering if the first aid kid was even usable or not.

You took a seat once you finally reached the waiting room, displeased to see that there were so many other people - mostly proxies - waiting for service. Some of them looked on the verge of passing out due to blood loss. How had no one attended to them yet? You waited and waited, watching as the more in danger patients were taken in before you finally nodded off. Your dreams were for the most part, empty, but your vision showed you that Jack was here, working. That thought alone was enough to wake you back up.

When your eyes reopened, you were overcome with emotions to see Jack in the doorway waiting for you to get up and follow him to the back. You scrambled up from your seat, mindful of not outwardly showing you were in a relationship (the Slender Man detested such bonds) and tried your best to remain cool and level headed.

Jack, who wore his mask, showed no signs he had any business with you until he brought you into a secluded room where he could attend to your injuries. The moment the door closed, he took off his mask and looked you over, worry lined on his face. “What’s wrong? Is it serious? O should have seen you sooner. Are you hurt-”

“Woah, woah,” you tiredly chuckled as you took his rapidly moving hands into yours. “It’s just minor bruises and cuts. Just wanna get them disinfected. I might’ve also sprained my wrist,” you sheepishly admitted.

Jack’s face fell again. “Jeeze, I should have seen you earlier,” he muttered to himself, moving around the room to get the supplies he needed. He slapped on his medical gloves again, and then got to work, leaving no part of you untouched. When it stung, he hushed you with words of love. “How did this happen?” He asked quietly.

“Alcoholic guy had way more power than I originally expected,” you winced. “I saw the possibility of him throwing me, but not him almost tearing off my wrist by slamming it in a door.”

“He what?” Jack growled.

“He’s dead now, don’t worry,” you said before you flashed Jack a reassuring look.

Jack seemed barely placated by your words and continued working.

When he finished working, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a look that told you he didn’t want you to leave.

“I have to,” you said as you allowed him to snake his arms around you. “I’ll be seeing you soon though, right?”

“I’m gonna be stuck in this area for a while,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “And you? You’re leaving Alabama right?”

You hesitantly nodded and sighed into him before you took in his scent that instantly calmed you. “Yeah, unfortunately. I have some work calling me out east,” you continued as he tensed in your arms. “Besides, I’m getting the vibe that if I stay much longer, the Slender Man is gonna be pissed at us.”

If Jack had eyes, he’d roll them. “I don’t care what he wants or likes,” he replied. That’s not entirely true, but love does weird things to people. “Stay a moment longer.”

You did.

There were times in your five year relationship that the two of you were split up for extended periods of time mostly on the whims and requests of the Slender Man. Those times you were apart were hard. And unfortunately, the two of you couldn’t actually text or call. Phones, electronics in general, were considered liabilities for people like you due to tracking and everything else. It just wasn’t safe, and BEN can only do so much.

Instead, the two of you would write letters to each other and enlist the help of Jeffery’s dog, Smile. Of course, the dog doesn’t always enjoy playing mail-dog, but he does enjoy the treats and favors he gets from the two of you.

The fifth year of your relationship with him had been a particularly long, hard separation due to distance. The two of you traded letters weekly via Smile. Everything from little anecdotes to how much you missed each other was shared between them until you got a letter that was calm before the storm.

‘Dear Reader, how have you been? I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write back to you, but Slender has put me on a really weird task. It’s time consuming as all hell and I kinda hate it. I’ve been placed with the proxies for a little while, and they all say ‘hi’ and hope you’re well as much as I do. … I love you, J.’ Of course, interspersed in the letter was a whole treasure trove of everything Jack had been up to.

‘Dear Jack, I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. I’ve been lighting up the Midwest's farm fields - I don’t know why (I do have my inklings), but the proxies I’m currently with get it. They’re a nice bunch, but the one with a pig mask is kinda mean? Maybe you’ll have to fight him or something. There’s also talk of us converting some people to the proxy side, which is weird because it’s not my territory, but I’ll do what’s asked of me. What’s the task you’re currently up to? I love you, R.’

It had been a few weeks since you got the next letter, and that letter was the beginning of your end. You just didn’t know it yet, and you purposely blinded your future vision to it.

‘Dear Reader, I’m so sorry it took so long to get this letter back to you! I hope I didn’t worry you, but things have once again been really, really busy. In truth, I’m not supposed to tell you about this, but as long as he doesn’t find out… I can trust you with this, but you need to promise you won’t tell anyone else? I suppose it doesn’t matter because the whole of our society is going to be talking about it regardless. We’ve never seen something like this before. Zalgo (may his name burn for all eternity) had a kid, right? They call her Leia and she’s been causing a storm of issues for the tall man. We got a hold of her and she’s been under our watch since. She’s powerful, I’ll give her that. In a way, it’s admirable, but she’s also Slender’s biggest threat. The weirdest thing? She willingly gave herself up to us because she’s got daddy issues. Can you believe that? Zalgo’s favorite kid has daddy issues. She’s naturally murderous towards proxies so Masky, Toby, Hoodie and Kate have to be extra mindful of her. For the most part, she’s with me. We talk a lot, but I have no idea if I can trust her. She’s a great conversationalist though - nothing like her father. She doesn’t look anything like him either (you have seen his human form, right?) In fact, nothing about her screams spawn of Zalgo. She looks… normal, if that’s the right word. Other than that, her attitude reminds me of you. Funny, right? She asks about you every now and then, which is odd because I try not to mention you unless it’s with Hoodie. Hoodie says hi, by extension. She seems to not like you despite having never met you, which is also incredibly strange as she’s been nothing but kind to me and the proxies (despite her trying to kill them when her instincts take over). I digress, and I miss you. I love you, J.’

You’d read that letter over so many times poking and prodding it. The energy didn’t feel right, and your mind had shown you glimpses of what was to come. But of course, still in love with him, you acted like nothing was wrong and the future you had seen wasn’t absolute.

The first time you met Leia was largely an accident. A short while after you’d gotten that letter from Jack, you ‘swung by’ the area he was in and decided on a surprise visit. You knew Masky well enough, and the proxy had never been angry with you for visiting prior to. What difference would this one have been?

You knocked on the door in a way that only Masky would recognize to be greeted by the unmasked proxy.

“You’re here for him, aren’t you?” He asked, a tired smile coming onto his lips.

You nodded excitedly. “Where is he?”

“Back room, with uh-”

“She already knows,” both Hoodie and Kate said in unison as they barely spared a glance over their shoulders from the terrible movie playing on Lifetime.

Masky shot a slight glare towards his teammates but relented and moved aside in the doorway. “Have fun,” he said as you stepped inside. “Don’t do anything stupid and if you do, do so quietly?”

You slapped Masky’s shoulder and walked down the hall. You took a brief moment to wave to Toby who was reading something in one of the rooms before you reached the end where you heard laughter. To be polite, you knocked on the door, and to your surprise, it was not Jack who answered the door.

There she stood with long silver hair and the most alluring blue eyes you’d ever seen, her skin as warm as the cinnamon that floated on top of hot chocolate in the winter. She gave you a sickly saccharine smile before she turned her head over her shoulder to address Jack, “Reader is here,” she giggled.

You bit back a grimace but smiled when Jack got up and gently moved Leia aside in the doorframe to greet you.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said as he took you into his arms before he crushed you in his grip. “How have you been?” He whispered in your ear before he peppered your face with kisses.

You wished you could have enjoyed the moment as you laughed in his arms, but your eyes fluttered open for just a moment to see Leia’s unamused expression. “I’m okay,” you replied in a tone lacking the enthusiasm Jack expected to hear.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he checked you over to ensure you physical self was safe. His hands cupped your cheeks as you were forced to look up at him.

“Of course,” you replied in an attempt to play it cool.

“If you say so,” he trailed off before taking your hand in his and leading you to sit next to him on the bed.

From there, the world’s most awkward conversation took place between Jack and Leia with you attempting to cut in every once and a while. You saw it in little glimpses.

Her eyes never left his sockets, and he allowed it.

When her hand touched his knee, he made no motion to move it.

When she laughed, he smiled in a way that only you had been used to seeing.

He talked with her with so many inside jokes, you felt as if you were just peeking in on someone else’s conversation, not one you were invited to.

Gradually, through the hour, he’d moved closer to her than he had you. While his arm remained loosely wrapped around your waist, he’d leaned forward to hear her better. He watched her interaction first after he shared a story. His focus was on her. You’d left his field of vision.

A few weeks into your fifth year was all it took.

Things did not get any easier from there. Eventually, you were moved to helping the group in regards to Leia. According to Slender, it was to ‘protect her’ from her father and her now murderous siblings. That’s when the rift grew wider, and the roots took hold.

See, after that first in person interaction with Leia, you’d felt a scratchiness in your lungs. At first, you chalked it up to being under the weather, but after being moved to Masky’s group, you knew nothing would ever be the same. Your worst fear had come true, and all it took was a pair of blue eyes.

Physically, Jack was still yours. He’d hold you, kiss you and touch you like you were still his. He never physically left your side, nor did his flesh betray your relationship. No, it was something much deeper than that that brought about the sprouts that took hold in your lungs.

Emotionally, he’d left you the moment he laid sockets on her. Why did he give in so easily? Who knows - boredom? A premature seven year itch? You’re not sure. But you saw it - you saw his heart leave the space it once shared with you and take up residence with hers, and it was painful. So, so painful.

He looked at her like she owned the moon and commanded the tides.

He smiled at her in a way he used to smile with you.

He spoke to her in a tone so gentle, you assumed he’d only used it for you.

He spoke with you less frequently, and when he did, it was much shorter and to the point. Whenever you prodded him, he had chalked it up to being stressed and that of course, he still loved you.

“You’re just being paranoid.”

He told her things you’d never even scratched the surface of.

She viewed him as hers.

And he allowed it without leaving the safety net that was you.

Of course, this did not go unnoticed by the proxies. None of them wanted to get directly involved though.

Hoodie was amongst the most disturbed as he was usually the first to call out Jack’s bullshit and the first proxy to inquire about you and your wellbeing. Despite not spending any time with you, Hoodie viewed you as a good friend.

"You realize what you're doing isn't cool, right?" Hoodie said as he walked back to the temp house with Jack.

"I'm not doing anything," Jack replied. "This about Leia?"

"No, it's about Pennywise we met last year - of course it's about Leia," Hoodie hissed as he rolled his eyes. "You're digging a hole you won't be able to get back out of. You know that, right?"

Jack lightly shoved Hoodie's shoulder in response. He was uncomfortable with what Hoodie had insinuated, mostly because Hoodie's BS meter is never far off the mark and normally strikes true. But when he entered that house and saw Leia sitting at the table, he couldn't help but take his place at her side.

Perhaps Kate just believes in girl code, but as a fellow being under the Slender Man’s control, she’s got her eye out for you. She believed wholeheartedly that what Jack was doing was scummy, but of course, her focus is on you. It came in mugs of hot chocolate and late night living room talks. She cares, just quietly.

"Don't overwork yourself, okay?" She said softly as she draped a blanket around your shoulders.

You'd been nodding off much more in the living room than in the room you shared with Jack. "What?" You said sleepily.

Kate chuckled softly and let you rest your head on her lap. "Turn your brain off for a while with me and let's watch this gods awful movie." Anything to get your mind off of what's going on and if this movie does it for you, that's good enough for the moment.

"Yes, ma'am," you tiredly rib, a smile on your lips.

Toby is inexperienced when it comes to these things. He was the first person to find you hacking up forget-me-nots. That was a scary experience as he’s never seen the Hanahaki before. He’s too young and too inexperienced, where would he have seen it?

He can distinctly remember walking with you, patrolling the area for threats when you suddenly stopped. It’d been a few months of you in his group's care, and he’d seen you retreat into yourself the longer Jack spent time with Leia. He knew it, just didn’t know how to go about it.

“What’s w-w-wrong?” He asked.

You waved for him to go on. “I’m fine-” you tried to wheeze out before you began violently coughing.

Toby initially thought you were going through what Masky did. He’s handled that before and naively thought he could help you until he rushed to your side to see the small forming pile of blue flowers covered sparsely in drops of blood. “Oh n-n-no,” he whispered as he knelt at your side. He held you like you were glass. “R-Reader-”

“I said I’m fine!” You tried to reason before coughing once more, this time more blood than cursed flower.

“Does t-t-this look f-f-fine to you?” He asked in stress and worry. “We n-need to t-t-tell M-Masky or J-Ja-”

“No,” you coldly cut off as you wiped your mouth of the blood that dribbled down your chin.

Toby wanted to fight that notion badly, but instead focused on getting you back safe. “I-I’ll tell M-Masky we s-saw some n-n-not deer on t-the p-property,” he murmured as he carefully picked you back up.

You allowed him.

Masky knew the moment you walked back into the temp house with Toby holding you as inconspicuous as he could. It’s unfortunate, he thinks, because he knows what that’s like - to love someone and physically suffer because of it.

One day, he’d sent everyone out of the house except for you and urged you to sit down and have some apple cider with him to ‘celebrate’ his favorite season, fall.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he began. “You’ve got it.”

You shifted uncomfortably and averted your gaze from his and chose to look into your apple cider than his eyes. “What?”

“Reader,” Masky sighed as he sat up in his seat. “Please…”

“It’s not that serious,” you attempted to retort. “It’s not… It’s not that bad.”

“You’re delusional,” Masky said. “I saw the flowers in the trash bin.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed your arms over your chest anyways in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“You know what happens, right?” He continued, leaning forward. “It either takes you or you get the surgery done.”

A pregnant pause passes before you reluctantly speak.

“Is… Is it really that bad?”

Masky nodded, “From experience? Yeah,” he mumbled.

You gave him a look of both sympathy and intrigue.

“The Operator forced me to get the surgery,” he admitted.

You look into his eyes and see for the first time that he’s empty. His dark brown eyes, that are full of amiability, protective nature, it’s all a front. He doesn’t actually feel that way - it is what is expected of him, but he is hollow.

“What happened?” You asked shyly, unsure if that’s too sensitive or not.

“I don’t quite remember as that’s an outcome of having the surgery,” Masky hummed. “But I remember that I loved him- I don’t feel it, obviously - but I remember that I loved him more than anything, would’ve moved mountains for him, and then he died,” he sounded vaguely perturbed by the words, but they did not reach his heart. “I think his name was Jay.”

You felt something pierce your heart, but it was interrupted by the flowers in your lungs blooming through your mouth.

Masky held you as you coughed petals and blood in the bathtub.

You promised Masky you were going to speak things over with Jack. You promised you were going to solve this. But when he spoke to you with his empty words coated in honey, the pain became too much to bear. It hurt. Seeing him hurt. Hearing him hurt.

“Jack?” You ask quietly, slowly sitting up in the bed you shared with him, much too used to his arms not being slinked around your form by this point.

He roused slightly in the bed before he opened his eyes. “Yeah? What’s up?” He asks, a slight bite in his voice from being woken up.

“Can we talk about something?”

“Can’t it wait?” He sighs in a slightly exasperated tone.

You shake your head, and through the darkness, Jack’s form sloughs in defeat.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Are we okay?”

“Of course we’re okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you more than anything,” he replies, hand gripping yours.

He feels like ice.

“And what about Leia?”

“She’s a really good friend of mine.”

He suddenly feels warm.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s nothing, now go to sleep, baby. We can talk about this in the morning,” he says with a small yawn before falling back into the comfort of slumber.

Your other hand at this point, has wrapped over your mouth to stifle the sounds of silence and the threat of flowers crawling up from your esophagus. You suffer in silence for a few minutes until you’re certain he’s asleep, then quietly excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You begin to cough as softly as you can, not wanting to be a burden to anyone in the house as forget-me-nots begin to fill up the sink. Blood splatters on the porcelain as well as the mirror. Your eyes are full of tears. You feel cold, much too cold.

As you continue to empty your lungs in vain, the light flicks on. You’re in too much pain and absorbed in velvety petals to realize it at first.

“I thought I told you to handle this,” Masky’s exhausted voice chides gently, his eyes dipping to the mess you’ve left in the basin of the sink.

You grip the edge of the sink before hacking up the rest of what the garden in your lungs has to offer before slinking down to the tile floor, utterly exhausted. “Turn the light off,” you whisper. Your back rests against the tub.

Masky does as you ask, allowing the moonlight to overtake as the main source of light in the small bathroom. His shoulders sag slightly as he joins you on this floor, his arm around your shoulders. “Get some sleep,” he says softly, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You smile softly as the flowers continue to clog up your lungs. It looks like another fit is coming.

“Just let it pass,” he murmurs softly into your ear, his head resting loosely on top of yours as you attempt to suppress the flowers from reemerging. “It’ll be over soon.”

You move your eyes to look at his profile before you take in the scent of cigarettes. You continue to feel your lungs grow heavy with blossoms when you hear Leia’s door open. Her steps pad quietly along the wooden floor as she crosses the hall to the room you used to share with Jack. “You promise?” You manage to choke out before stifling your coughs as quietly as you can. Your eyelids are growing heavier. You can hear your heartbeat through your chest to the hallways of your ears. Leia has slipped into bed with Jack. You hear him shift. He’s holding her now.

“I promise,” he says gently, holding you just a little tighter.

You close your eyes and listen to Masky hum, hoping sleep washes over you soon.

#eyeless jack #xreader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta #hanahaki #angst #masky #hoodie #brian thomas #tim wright #kate the chaser #reader insert

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

love language | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: FLUFF, that's it

warnings: this is just so cute and self-indulgent lol

words: 5, 123

summary: how min yoongi loves you

“You know there isn’t a point in inviting me out for brunch to only sigh and stab your overpriced meal with a fork right? I already see you enough on a daily basis and I think I’m exceeding my _____ quota for the month.” Jimin says dryly.

Usually, you’d quip back with an equally brute remark of your own but there’s something far heavier lingering at the back of your mind. A territory you weren’t quite sure how to navigate and vocalise. Jimin picks up on your silence and stamps it as odd behaviour because you were far more … hands-on when it came to your retorts but today you’re dead quiet.

Jimin leans forward on his elbows to give you a concerned look when you still silently assault your meal with the fork in your grip.

“… is this even _____?”

You look up and your expression is unimpressed. Jimin raises his arms up in defense before retreating to the comfort of his plush sofa chair—a product of allowing him to choose the venue for your dire brunch that and the cost was your empty wallet and every last bit of your mental health.

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

The question throws Jimin off not because he has no idea who that is—but because you were shy and timid. A soft-spoken person by nature that liked keeping to yourself and that was a huge juxtaposition in terms of your friendship with Jimin because he was everything you were not. He was loud, the biggest person in every room, and the person that everyone knew on campus.

Your friendship was an unlikely occurrence even for your lecturers when they’d glance at you from the hallways or when your peers would eye you oddly when they’d see Jimin partaking in every extra-curricular there was available and while you chose to do your own thing, far away from the action and where you were safely kept in your own bubble.

Jimin is surprised because you were already very private, and as your best friend, he didn’t take any offense to that when you didn’t share matters of your life with him. He already overcompensated for the fact that all he did was talk about his personal life—which you didn’t mind either. It was a healthy balance and a give and take that the two of you found a pattern with.

So for you to bring up the name of your boyfriend—which Jimin only knew because he caught a glimpse of a name with a heart and a text with the word ‘date’ attached to it—was definitely out of character.

“Yeah. This definitely isn’t _____,” Jimin says, “I’d like her back, please. I need someone to have no backbone so I can trample on her without her ever complaining.”

You glare at him even harder and stab the lettuce on your plate harder.

“You know what? Forget it …” You mutter, pushing your plate away from you.

Jimin levels you with a wry look and reaches his hand out to stop you from being overdramatic with your actions. Since you weren’t the best with words, you naturally compensated for being a little excessive with your actions in hopes for other people to be able to pick up on your hints. And as your best friend—Jimin knew that you were bottling something inside and wanted him to pry.

“You know this trick isn’t going to work on me, right?” Jimin points out, “And as much as I call myself the self-proclaimed genius between the two of us I can’t read minds so you’re going to need to elaborate on what you mean by ‘what do I think of Yoongi’.”

You scowl and fiddle with your fingers when Jimin gives you a look that tells you that you should speak up or forget about it. Sometimes you hated the fact that Jimin was confident and assured of himself, never avoiding confrontation while all you did was dodge it. Another reason why your friendship was unlikely but somewhat necessary.

“As my friend … what do you think of Yoongi—” You mumble, “—for me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your soft tone.

“For … you?” He parrots your question back.

Your ears burn and you feel stupid enough asking Jimin about his opinion on Yoongi when you already felt flustered even mentioning his name to anyone that wasn’t yourself.

“Jimin …” You whine.

“Don’t Jimin me,” He snaps, “You know my hearing is bad.”

You roll your eyes and cast your eyes downwards to your abandoned plate as you pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you’ve picked up from Yoongi. Though you can’t really say that you picked it up from him since it was also a nervous routine of yours but knowing that Yoongi shared that in a different way made it feel like you got it from him.

Jimin sighs.

He wasn’t being harsh on you—in fact, this was him encouraging you to open up because while he was all hard and edges, and possibly overbearing at times; he respected you and loved you as a friend. You were never mean, rude or disrespectful and even if the two of you were fundamentally different in nature, you co-existed peacefully and were able to share little things in common that made the interactions between the two of you fruitful.

And he knew that speaking of your relationship with Yoongi was hard not because he was treating you horribly (at least he hopes so) but because you had the tendency of solving all your problems yourself. Even ones that were far out of your range of capability, and as someone who has received an abundance of help and advice from someone as soft-spoke as you—he wanted to be able to reciprocate somehow.

“Are the two of you okay?” Jimin asks.

You nod your head.

“We are … I just—well …” You mumble, “I just want your opinion.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow because he didn’t want you to feel like he needed his approval for you to date Yoongi. He trusted you and knew that you were smart enough to let the people you felt the same way about in.

“Babe, you don’t need my opinion. You’re the one in the relationship with him and as long he’s not being manipulative, abusive or an unwarranted jackass then I have no right to interfere in your relationship.” Jimin frowns.

You sigh.

“No, no … it’s not like that,” You shake your head, “I just wanted to know what you think of him … as a person.”

Your request is odd for multiple reasons, but mostly because of the timing because it seemed like a question you’d pose before the two of you made it official but this question came eight months into the relationship.

“I don’t think I can give you an answer _____. My interactions are limited with Yoongi as it is and I can’t give you an objective answer without sounding like a complete asshole if I judge him based on the way he looks.”

“Why would you sound like an asshole?” You furrow your brows.

Jimin shoots you a deadpan.

“Min Yoongi is the poster boy of the average college girl’s wet dream and he checks all the boxes of fitting all the stereotypes of a brooding, mysterious jock with a secret that he hides only for a girl to swing into his life and change his outlook completely. He’s quiet—quieter than you—and downright intimidating. It doesn’t help that you don’t want me hanging out with him just yet—which I totally respect by the way—so that just adds to his aloof aura.”

You blink at Jimin.

The description of Yoongi based on his outward appearance is … apt. But not what you were looking for. You knew that when you first saw Yoongi at band practices was when you first decided that you were scared of good-looking people. Albeit Jimin was also insanely attractive but he had an atmosphere around him that made people feel comfortable. Not that Yoongi actively made people uncomfortable … but he radiated major celebrity vibes that it was intimidating to get close to him.

Until small talks happened to shared giggles and him eventually asking you out informally, a context outside of your band practices that you saw glimpses of Yoongi that no one else did. He was soft, understanding, and though a little bad at expressing how he feels … but he was Yoongi and you liked him.

You might even love him, but there are times where you’re hesitant about your relationship.

“I think I love him.” You squeak.

Jimin’s eyes widen, another surprise for him for the day because you’ve just ignored his very superficial description of your boyfriend, which he half-expected you to be mad at. But for you to say that you thought you were in love with him was just a reaction he was not expecting at all.

“You—okay?” Jimin scrunches his eyebrows, “I’m happy for you, I really am! But … that doesn’t explain why you need my opinion?”

You breathe out and will yourself to look at Jimin’s face, even with the burn of your cheeks.

“You’re my … best friend, Jimin.” You say softly.

Jimin’s eyes ease on your timid features before he reaches out a comforting hand to grab onto your own, nudging you to look into his eyes. Even though Jimin was outgoing as it is, the reason why you stayed friends was that he took the time to understand you and adapt to you even when he didn’t need to. He knew that you were just shy and he never berated you for it, which is why you wanted him to know how you felt—because what he thought was important too.

“_____, love,” Jimin whispers, and you offer a weak smile, “I’m happy for you. Truly. Being in love is a beautiful feeling and I don’t need to be in love with a person to tell you that because love exists everywhere. It exists in the small things that make you smile or giggle when you come across it, and it exists in the way you do the things you adore and achieve your goals. But you don’t need me—or anyone’s—validation to love Yoongi. Love is so personal and so collective at the same time but it’s yours.”

You swallow and hope that you don’t cry in the middle of this posh and overpriced place, and it’s partially because Jimin sounded so earnest when he was talking to you but also because of the ruminating thoughts that plague your mind that made you suggest this brunch in the first place.

“I think I’m in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same.” You sniffle.

Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens momentarily along with his jaw, but he doesn’t want to act irrationally just yet.

“Why do you say that?” He asks tenderly.

You sniff and the tip of your nose turns red and Jimin wants to pat you on the head to comfort you, but the two of you are in public and he knew you hated being vulnerable in general—especially in the public eye.

“It’s just—it’s just—” You stutter, “You know how shy I am and how hard it is for me to … ask for things …”

When he hears your soft tone as your eyes dart away from his face, possibly embarrassed, he rubs a soothing thumb across your knuckles and listens to you intently.

“But I really try with Yoongi … because I want him to know how much I-I like him,” You whisper, “And every time I tell him how much I like him he just … he just smiles and looks away. Like he doesn’t—doesn’t feel the same.”

Jimin absorbs your words before he smiles softly at you. He understood how difficult it must’ve been for you because this was your first official relationship with someone who looked very closed off, to begin with, but based on your very short and rapt descriptions from time to time, Jimin could say that Yoongi wasn’t a bad person.

“Have you considered that he shows his love a different way?” Jimin asks.

You look up at him confused.

“Huh?”

Jimin chuckles before offering you a small tissue, and you meekly accepted it as you dab at your waterline.

“We all have different ways of giving and receiving love, _____.” He tells you, “No person loves the same and no one feels the same type of love. We are all different because that’s in our nature. And like I said—I don’t know Yoongi well enough to say that he has a specific type of love language but if he’s stuck around for this long … it has to mean something, right?”

Your brunch with Jimin leaves you with something else to think about.

Perhaps you were a little shallow—narrow-minded if you will. But you trusted Jimin, and you decided to see what he meant. You knew that you didn’t have the stereotypical love of shows or movies because while it did depict some form of reality, it was heavily sensationalised and exaggerated. But you never considered that Yoongi had a way of his own, one that was personal and unique to him.

Yoongi never made you feel like you weren’t enough. But the lack of the words that sit on your tongue also made you feel like he didn’t feel the same. It was never what he did, but how you felt. It was irrational, but he was objectively a very attractive person. In more ways than how he looked but the way, he treated others.

He’s mellow and gentle. Words never harsh but sharp enough to make people think. He’s efficient and kind when he wants to be and you see the way he treats his friends and staff at restaurants, even if he’s a little quiet too. The two of you were somewhat similar, but you felt so much for him that you somehow overlooked that one part—that maybe he was quiet in the way he loved too.

But you didn’t want to get your hopes up because while you weren’t … horrible. You weren’t anything spectacular either. You did decently in school, had a decent friend group that mainly consisted of you, Jimin and his other best friend, Taehyung—who told you that you were as much of his best friend like you were Jimin’s—and your bandmates that you shared with Yoongi.

Yoongi was quiet but collateral. He excelled in school, topped his classes two terms in a row, and produced impeccable music on the side. He was charismatic when he had to be an extremely introspective that you sometimes felt lacking when you hear him speak about the world and people.

Maybe that’s why he just smiles and looks away because Yoongi is too kind to break your heart, and his eyes tell the truth.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t—

“______?” Yoongi calls your name and snaps you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” You respond dazedly and he just smiles at you, gentle as always before he nudges your shoulder slightly forward to place a—pillow?—in between your back and the chair that you were sitting on in his apartment.

“I’ve read somewhere that this helps with your posture.” He tells you, “You said you were having lower back pains so this may help.”

You blink at him and then at your assignments sprawled on his dining table, before turning your head to spot the pillow that you remember gifting him as a small present months back, behind your back, and in between you and the chair. The tension in your lower back does feel alleviated, and you turn back to Yoongi to offer him a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say softly.

He smiles at you and the simple gesture makes your stomach flutter with butterflies and your heartbeat a little faster. It’s crazy that the simplest of acts could turn you into mush and that he’s had your heart captive. The word sits on your tongue but fear wins over again.

He brushes stray hands of hair that falls by the side of your face, away, before gathering it with his hand at the back of your neck and tying it with a rubber band that you remember leaving at his place a while back.

“How can you see with your hair in the way?” He scolds, but it’s light.

You scoff, giving him a glare but it’s playful too. It does feel better like you have a clearer vision of the work that you were doing.

“Don’t be mean …” You mumble.

Yoongi laughs and it’s your favourite sound after the bell of your favourite bakery.

You like this look on him, eyes crinkled and mouth open in a gummy grin that you were the cause of. The will to say the word becomes harder, the way he leans in to peck you on the lips makes your mouth move on its own accord.

So before you can justify your actions, you say—

“I love you.”

The words are out and it seems to linger in the air because of the silence. You’re mortified, one because you had just blurted it out in the most unromantic setting ever, but secondly, because Yoongi is just … looking at you again. Like he always does when you tell him how much you like him—a soft smile, but this time his eyes are trained on yours.

The fire on your cheeks feels all the hotter when you know there’s nowhere to hide, or no way to retract your words because you didn’t want to. You loved him—and his silence only solidifies your guesses on the unrequitedness of your love.

“I-I’m sorry!” You yelp, covering your face with your hands, “I-I didn’t—I know that you—I didn’t mean to say that!”

Yoongi continues to look at you and he’s inching closer to you until your locked against your chair, his arms resting around your back as his other elbow leans on the table when he brings his face closer to yours.

“You love me?” He whispers and his breath is on your lips.

Even as you’re overcome with the fact that you do indeed love him, and that he doesn’t feel the same. You can’t bring yourself to deny it, not when your heart has always been for him and your words a reflection of your own heart.

“Y-Yes,” You mumble, eyes looking away, “I’m sorry …”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows and pulls away from you. The warmth of his body suddenly gone and it reminds you that you may have overstepped. That he realised that you were in too deep and couldn’t just leave you. It scared you, but the silence scares you more.

“Why are you apologising?”

You gulp, looking away but Yoongi nudges your chin to look at him gently. His eyes are still confused, but kind. The look that usually comforts you only makes anxiety settle in the pit of your belly.

“I know you don’t feel the same … it’s okay. I understand. I’m a little … hard to love … I know. B-But it’s okay. You don’t need to say it—at all. I can … I can deal with it. Just please don’t leave me.” You whimper.

Yoongi pulls away completely as if he’s been scathed. You don’t have anything else to say but you’re appalled to find your vision getting blurry and the lump in your throat getting unbearable. But you try not to cry, especially when Yoongi looks torn.

But he doesn’t do what you’re expecting and tells you that it’s over, but instead, he returns into your space, making you forget about your embarrassment and cups your cheeks ever so gently while looking at you with ardent eyes.

“Please don’t cry …” He whispers.

And you hate that you do. You cry because he’s holding you so gently and his hands feel warm against your cheek. You cry because you love him and he doesn’t feel the same. You cry because all your cards are out on the table and he’s seen it all.

“I-I’m sorry.” You choke.

Yoongi’s eyes soften before he leans in, pressing a gentle press onto your lips that has your tears in the way as a barrier. You’re still choking on your sobs but his kiss feels comforting and painful at the same time. You want to push him away but you’re selfish—you love him and the feeling of him holding you close like he may feel the same.

When he pulls away, he looks at you again with a gentle, yet intense gaze.

“You’re not hard to love,” He murmurs, “It was so easy falling in love with you because you’re my person. You’re the person that I look forward to seeing every day and the person that I think about the most. Please don’t ever say that you’re hard to love because falling in love with you was the easiest thing that I’ve done in my entire life.”

Your eyes widen, especially when he looks you directly in your own. Your eyes are a little puffy and you’re sure it’s an unattractive sight.

But Yoongi thinks you’re beautiful. He always does. He thinks you’re beautiful when you see him after your classes. He thinks you’re beautiful when you broke the plate you wanted to give his mother as a gift. He thinks you’re beautiful when you’ve just woken up and he thinks you’re beautiful when you’re laughing with his friends and your bandmates.

“I—I—you … you love … me?” You rasp.

Yoongi still has a soft hold on your cheeks, and he feels the wetness of your tears stain his hands but he’s unbothered. He’s more bothered about what you said. The way his heart clenches makes him feel like he’s not done enough. That he could do better to never be the reason for the sadness along with your tears.

“I love you. I do. So much.” He whispers, “You’ve made me feel the kind love that I never thought existed.”

You sob harder and you feel a little pathetic crying in his arms because … how could you have doubted him? You feel relieved and happy, and a little frustrated because you were insecure on your own terms. Even now that you know he loves you—you’re sceptical because he’s Yoongi and you’re you.

Yoongi tugs you into his arms and caresses you with the warmth of his hold, hand patting your head gently. He feels mellow and close while he allows you to cry a little longer. The silence isn’t suffocating anymore, but your mind runs wild with insecurities that you can’t help but—

“Do you really love me?” You ask softly.

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, but you feel him nod and hum against your head.

“I do.”

You nibble on your lips and clutch his t-shirt.

“Then w-why … why do you just smile and look away when I tell you how much I like you?”

Yoongi stays silent for a while, but you don’t take it as a bad sign. Even with your small arguments with him from time-to-time throughout the eight months you’ve been together, Yoongi has never once raised his voice at you or acted irrationally. In fact, he’s always stayed a little quiet for a while, as if he was thinking of the appropriate way to handle the situation before he spoke.

It only made you love him more.

“I’m sorry.” He apologises, and you feel like shit when you realise you made him apologise to you for no reason but he continues before you can pull away—grip tight around your relaxed figure.

“I’ve been in love with you for months,” His confession makes you gasp, the time that he’s mentioned only makes you a lot more confused, “I … this is the first time I’ve felt this way.”

You stay silent as Yoongi rubs gentle figures on your back, breathing into your hair as you rest your cheek on his chest.

“I’ve always been a little … quiet.” He tells you, “And maybe that’s why I felt so drawn to you because we were so similar. I saw you and thought that you were a beautiful person. That your kindness wasn’t empty promises but actions and your smiles weren’t forced but comforting.”

You feel your eyes water again because of Yoongi’s truthful words. Damn your boyfriend for being able to wax poetic.

“I’ve always found it hard to express things with words, despite writing songs like people eat their meals. My mom always told me that I was a doer rather than a sayer.” He jokes, and you find yourself giggling a little when you think of Yoongi’s mother.

A strong woman, her tongue was as sharp as her sons and you definitely see where he gets his wisdom from. She was louder spoken, confident—and yet she was gentle and kind. A person that drew people in.

“I do things for you because I love you, ______. I love you in a way that can last forever because I want it to. I want to love you in a way that you’ll remember and always think of me when you see the physical pieces left by the footprints of my affection.”

It should’ve been cheesy but Yoongi has a way with words to make you blush and your heart flutter.

His words register in you, and you feel blind to not have seen it the entire time.

Even before this, when he placed the pillow behind you to support your lower back—or when he tied your hair back so you could focus better. Or the time when he drove all the way from his hometown back to campus because you were performing a solo piece for band, then drove back to see his parents.

You remember the song he wrote to you for your birthday, accompanied by a book that you’ve put on your Wishlist for months. The memory of his gentle hands removing the face mask from your face when you’ve fallen asleep and tucking you into his bed pricks your mind.

Looking back—you remember feeling absolutely loved and adored. Even if you didn’t explicitly think of the word ‘love’—but you felt safe, comforted and accepted. And you realise that love isn’t one-dimensional. Love is everything that makes you feel complete.

When you look up at him, he’s still offering you the same gentle smile he does when you told him how much you liked him—to when you said you loved him. He still looks the same, smiles the same, and feels the same. It’s you.

“I’m sorry.” You wail.

His eyes widen but you don’t cry. You feel dumb, blind almost because he’s been nothing but loving towards you but it was you who had your doubts.

“Baby, please don’t apologise.” He runs a thumb across your cheek.

“I just—I can’t believe I accused you of not loving me when all you’ve been doing is—when all you’ve done is treat me amazingly. I feel so … stupid.” You groan.

Yoongi smiles at you and rubs his thumb in between your furrowed brows.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you frown all the time.” He tuts.

You glare at him through puffy eyes but hold on to him tighter.

“I really am sorry.” You mumble.

Yoongi hums.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve been more—explicit.”

You frown, pulling away.

“No Yoongi.” You say, “You loved me in your own way and I felt every bit of it. I just conflated the need of being reassured with words and being reassured in your gestures. I shouldn’t have doubted you and projected my insecurities onto you.”

"And it's not your fault for feeling insecure. I'm your boyfriend and I want to be able to reassure you in every way I possibly can. If you need to hear an I love you I'll shout it on top of the highest roof I can find—if you want to be held then I'll hold you and never let go."

Your heart flutters and you bask in his gentle words.

Yoongi wraps a gentle hand around the nape of your neck before bringing you closer, lips hovering right above your own before he closes the distance. His lips are warm and soft, and he doesn’t rush the kiss as if he was dealing with porcelain glass. But he knew you weren’t fragile and easily broken—but he still knew that you were someone that he wanted to care for, for a long time.

He kisses you and it feels right. It feels like you were returning home after months away.

When he pulls away ever so slightly to look into your eyes, breath still fanning on your lips—you feel welcomed.

“When I think of love I think of you. When I think of happiness your face appears in my mind. And when I think fo you, I think of what I can do to make the environment we have a little better for you. I love you, _____. And I’ll spend as long as I can reminding you.”

“Yoongi …” You blush because you didn’t know how romantic he could be when he wanted to.

“I’m serious, _____.” He looks at you seriously, “You know what my mom said when I brought you over?”

You raise an eyebrow because while you remember the meeting being absolutely pleasant, even if you did fumble and break the gift you brought. His mother only smiled at you, the same one that marks her son's face—and said that it was okay. It only meant that you should come again to compensate. Her tone was light and comfortable, and you immediately felt the tension be alleviated from your shoulders.

He takes the tilt of your head as his cue to continue.

“She said that she’s never seen me as expressive as I was when I was with you,” You snort at his exasperation, but you see the honesty that pours out, “Hyung even said that I’ve gotten soft.”

You roll your eyes when he tugs you closer by your chair until your legs were dangling by the side of his hips. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and Yoongi still smiles at you like it’s the most natural thing to do.

“But I like you soft …” You smile.

“And I love you with me.” Yoongi returns.

You blush, and you allow him to hold you close.

And in his arms, do you realise that some things didn’t need to be said.

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts fics #bts imagines #min yoongi fic #yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #min yoongi imagine

679 notes · View notes

luimagines · 3 years

Note

RQ: He’s upset and needs comforting

Masterlist

Ya'll want angst? Because I have some angst.

Very hurt/comfort

Set platonically and within the group since there was no specification. Hope that’s ok! Sorry it took awhile, it got away from me again. I think this may be a trend.

Scenario under the cut! It’s super long so take caution!

Sky

It took a while for you to notice but eventually you do.

Sky has been acting weird all day.

It was only clipped responses at first, then it was was the lack of attention where Sky would have been the first to comment or act otherwise. What really tipped you off finally was how he seemed to be evading the whole group. Not necessarily stepping away and out of sight but he didn’t interact with anyone and when they approached him, he didn’t make eye contact, seemingly trying to cut the conversation short.

No one has said anything.

You mention it to Twilight about his out of character behavior but he says that it maybe a bad day, or he slept wrong, or some other reason that you stopped listening to because it didn’t make any sense.

Sky was always trying to be friendly no matter his mood and it took a lot to shake him up.

What was eating at the Chosen Hero?

Soon, the uncertainty begins to eat at you too and you wait for night fall, once everyone is asleep to strike.

Strike up a conversation that is.

Sky usually takes the last watch because he’s usually the first one out regardless of what activities for the day so you strive to wake up early.

It works for the most part, your internal clock doing what you want it to do when you blink your eyes open. Part of you begins to drift off again so you sit up and nearly fall asleep that way.

A hand comes up on your back and rubs a small circle. “Nightmare?”

It’s Sky and he’s looking at you with mild concern.

You smile and shake your head. “No. I’m alright but I think I’ll stay up with you if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He moves out of your space and back to where he sat.

You follow, still groggy from just waking from your slumber but succeed in not stepping on any of your friends or waking them up as well with the added noise. you sit next to the Hero of the Skies with little fan fare and let the moment settle on the both of you before looking skyward.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look at Sky and continue star gazing even if they’re a little harder to spot as the sun travels closer for it’s shift.

Sky hums in agreement and follows your gaze upwards.

“Are you ok? You seemed a little off lately.”

Sky doesn’t say anything for the first few seconds and you suspect that maybe he didn’t hear you. With him spacing out so much and the fact that you whispered for the sake of your still sleeping friends, you’re inclined to repeat yourself but Sky answers in time.

“Just thinking a lot, I suppose. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah?” You don’t look his way. This is casual. This is friendly. This is not a big deal. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

“It’s not that interesting.”

You shrug. “Hit me with it anyway. It’s got to be something if it’s throwing you off your rocker. Maybe a new perspective will help clear some of it up?”

Sky frowns at your attempts, once again retreating into his mind. You let the offer hang in the air and let it sink in.

You’re disinclined to bring it up anymore. Your brain is still tired and you’re wondering your effectiveness when half of your thoughts are still muddled with sleep and fatigue. You could have totally slept in some more. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?

“Time mentioned something earlier that I can’t seem to let go of.” Sky begins.

You hum back and let him keep talking.

“I never fought this Ganon guy they all so talk so much about. I fought the God Demise. Before I could land the final blow, he cast a curse on me, on us, that some cycle would continue. His hatred would last forever and my blood line and Zelda’s will be cursed to deal with constant darkness caused by him.” Sky admits, looking now at his intertwined hands. “I finished him soon after that but... I wonder... Am I the cause-... Is this all my fault? Am I the reason that we’re all here right now? That everyone has gone through so much? So many thing happened that should have never occurred. Time and Legend and Wild have all suffered so much.... more than I can possibly ever imagine and it seems like it’s never ending. Everyone starts they’re adventures so young... If I had killed him sooner... If I had just got it over with... If I had just shut him up-”

“Hey.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, cutting off his tirade. “None of this is anyone’s fault. The only people to blame are Ganon and now, this Demise guy. You did what you could. You still got the job done and no one here will ever blame you for what has happened to them or to Hyrule. You were young too... you’re still young. Give yourself a little kindness and understanding, just as you do with everyone here. You didn’t deserve it either. It’s not like you asked to fight a God.”

“Well...”

“Sky you know what I mean.”

“I should have been faster. If-”

“There’s no use in worrying about what if’s.” You shove him slightly. “This is our life. Even if you ask, no one is capable of giving you the answers. I get it. It’s hard to know if the path you took is the right one if it’s all you’ve ever known and you can’t see where the other would have lead... But... Even if horrible things happen, I’m still glad to have met you. I’m glad I met the others. I’m happy to be here with you and with them, and I’m glad that it’s not just me anymore.”

You let the words sink in before leaning down wards and trying to get him to look you in the eye. “I can’t answer your questions. But what happened, happened and the best thing we can do is learn how to play with the cards we’re dealt.”

He take a deep breath and finally looks in your direction. “I know you’re right.”

“Naturally.”

“But I can’t help but feel responsible for being-”

“But you’re not responsible for their pain or any of this Sky. If Ganon has anything to do with Demise then it’s all Demise’ fault. His and his only. Understand?” You stress. “I wish... I wish I could do something more to help.”

Sky places his hand over yours where you still have it on his shoulder and sends you a small smile. “I know. Me too.”

Wild

“Zelda, would you please drop it!” You hear the Champion yell, his voice carrying over the wind and somehow getting louder. “We’ve had this conversation before and it’s not the time to have it again. I have things to do excuse me.”

Wild storms into his house and shuts the door behind, blocking it with all his weight and waits for the indignant shrieking on the other side to go away. The voice ends with a frustrated huff and after a moment of silence, Wild relaxes and steps away from the door and further into the house.

You’re almost scared for the moment. You’ve not known Wild to yell, even less so for a Link to be on bad terms with Zelda no matter the universe. To make matters worse, you were the only that was actually within the house at the moment and you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed from here.

“Trouble in paradise?”

That probably wasn’t the way to go, if you were being honest with yourself.

Wild groans, loud and exaggerated and sits at the table in front of you with as much fan fair.

“Do not...call it that.” He sounds tired.

“Sorry.” You amend with an apologetic shrug. “That-” You reference to the scene outside. “-Didn’t sound ideal.”

“No. It’s not.” Wild sighs and places his face in his hands with his elbows on the table. Bad table manners, a small voice in your head pipes up. But it’s his house, so you bite your tongue.

“Can I ask what it was about?” You hesitatingly venture.

Wild takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I wanted to live a simple life.” He starts. “Everything was over now, right? That was the idea I had. Defeat the evil and get to finally live as a normal man. Maybe explore more of my home and show Zelda all the cool things I’ve seen and done. Everything I knew, everything I remembered is gone and has been gone for a while. No one alive misses it. No one alive even knows about it. This is the world they were born into and they wouldn’t have it any other way. I was prepared to accept that and join them.”

Your face twists in sympathy as you nod along. “I take it that’s the issue here.”

“When I defeated Calamity Ganon and reunited with Zelda, she seemed so full of hope and purpose.” Wild continues. “I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

Wild gives you a pained look. “Zelda wants to try and rebuild the kingdom. Make it into what she remembers it to be. She wants to strengthen relationships with the other nations and reestablish the royal family and a whole lot of other things that I cannot begin to think of how long it would both take and last considering all the damage that already been done. She wants to be Queen. And over what? Hyrule Kingdom is no more. Can’t be a Queen without a kingdom to rule and there’s not a lot of Hylians left that would agree to being ruled over or even enough of them to count as a kingdom to begin with.”

“I suppose it’s not a bad goal to have but you do make a point.” You try and add to the conversation, feeling wildly out of your depth. “Does she know that you-”

“Yes. And she thinks I’m crazy for it. She thinks that I’ve given up on my friends and the past and the future and- uugghhh.” Wild leaned forward and slams his head on the table with enough force to make you jump.

“That look like it hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I believe you.” A small smile covers your face.

A beat passes before Wild continues to talk with his head still on top of the table. “I don’t think she realizes that I’ve changed after everything. Maybe if I had my memories to begin with, or maybe if I had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon sooner, I’d be more inclined to agree with her, but I’ve experienced so much and done so much that I don’t want to go back to how things were. I’m a different man now.” Wild looks up at you. “She’s different too but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation.”

“So you’re stuck with this one?”

“Yes.”

“That sucks man.” You shift in your seat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not if you can change the past.” He pouts.

“Shame. I’m fresh out of past changing wishing powder.”

“That’s not a thing.” He pouts even more.

You chuckle at the display before sobering up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“What good will that do?”

“Maybe a third person party has to step in. It could be that it’s because you’re the one who saying that she isn’t listening.” You shrug. “I think you’re right but I’m willing to give her chance to tell her side of the story while you cool down in here. I can be a distraction so you can sneak out quietly and she won’t know you’re here anymore! It’s a win win! And maybe you guys can come to an agreement when you both see each other again with new perspectives.”

Wild gives you another tired look and leans into his hand. “I doubt it would work. Zelda is incredibly stubborn, one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But if you think it would help, I won’t stop you. I’ve run out of arguments and I’m done hearing hers.”

“Ok.” You say getting up and moving around the table. “I think it’s worth a shot. There’s a saying where I’m from that goes, ‘it’ll all be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.’”

You give Wild a hug around his shoulder and squeeze him tight. “I have faith that you’ll pull through and get to live peacefully, but until then, you’ve got us on your side ok?”

He leans in your direction and wraps his arms around your own. “I know. I figured as much.”

“Good man.”

“I’m definitely sneaking out of here though.”

“That’s fair. Go hide.”

“I will... And thanks for listening to me. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Four

"I'm sorry, what?" Four snaps his head up to stare at the Champion.

"What?" Wild tilts his head. "What? There's no stuff in the grass in my Hyrule. Just crickets and lizards...you know normal stuff. I don't know why there's tools and rupees in all of yours."

"You don't-" Four cut himself off with a click of his teeth, a piece in his mind clicking into place. He stands suddenly, clearly upset and tense as he processes the information.

"Four?" You call out to him but he doesn't respond to you, nor does he look back.

"Four!" Hyrule calls as well. "Where are you going?"

No reply.

"I'll go with him. Just in case." You stand up in a rush and nearly knock over the equipment at your feet in the process. "Don't wait up for us."

You follow him.

Four is fast and quiet and it takes very little time to lose him- or rather, for him to lose you.

Before you knew it, there's no trace of him and there's nothing within the forest that would give you a hint to his whereabouts.

"Great." You hiss and look around.

Nothing.

"Four!" If he won't show himself, you'll just have to make some noise. "Four! Four! Show me a sign so I know you're not dead!"

You wait.

"Don't make me get Wolfie!"

Nothing.

"Four!" You scream a little louder and begin to run. Now that you've said it out loud, despite being a joke in the beginning, the thought of Four being dead somewhere spikes your panic and anxiety and it fuels your quest.

It's only been a few minutes and Four can handle himself just fine but you don't think about that.

"FOUR!"

"Why are you screaming?" A voice come just beyond you.

You sprint toward it and find Four in a small clearing, crouched down and appearing to hold something in the palm of his hand.

"I was calling you." You don't know how you find it in you scold him. "A response would have been nice."

"Sorry." He shrugs. "I was having a conversation, it would be rude to drop it."

You get on your tip toes to look around him and find nothing. "With... With what?"

Four looks down into his hand and places it, ever so gently, on the ground, pausing and standing up to see you. "You can't see them?"

"See who?" You step over to him. "Four? Are you ok?"

His face twists in annoyance before sighing. "I'm fine."

"No offence, but I doubt that."

"It... a group of creatures that can only be seen by good children. They were important on my quests and have helped me greatly. Children usually stop seeing them around the time when they turn sixteen."

"Would it be easy for me to chalk it all up to magic?" You bit your lip.

"Probably. If it'll help you sleep at night." Four sighs and looks down to the ground, a small smile on his lips before it twists into a painfully and... he looks seconds from crying.

"I did so much to help them... and they helped me.... They leave gifts in the grass to help travelers and us heroes alike and yet... Wild says it doesn't happen anymore..." Four gulps and looks away from you and what ever is by his foot. "They wouldn't stop.... They're incredibly kind and hospitable and... There's no reason for them... Why are they gone?"

"Four." You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

"What happens to them?" His Adam's apple bobs a bit as he sucks in a breath. "It just means there was no one to help them."

"Oh Four." You pull him into a hug and nearly crush him with it.

"There's nothing I can do to help them, is there?" He sniffles into your chest.

"No, I... I don't think so Four. Not that far out into the future." You shake your head and begin to rub circles on his back.

You don't think he's crying but he might be fighting it because he does begin shaking.

He doesn't say anything else and you're loath to let him go when he's so emotionally charged. So you hold him. You hold him for as long as he needs and you wait for him to pull away first.

When he does, you keep your hands on his shoulders and he stays within your reach. Four begins to take deep calming breaths with his eyes closed and you instinctually run your hands through his bangs and push some of the loose hairs from his face.

Minutes continue to pass and the sounds of nature around you fill the void.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I wish I could help you but I don't know how."

Four nods and rubs his eyes. "I don't doubt that. Thank you. I'll be ok."

You don't think he's ready to go back to the group just yet, not after all that. "Tell me more about these friends of yours. How did they help you? How did you help them? What are they exactly?"

It earns you a small laugh and he grins up at you with a watery smile. "Sit down. And let me tell you about the Picori."

Twilight

“You almost died and for what?!” Twilight screams at Wild for the umpteenth time.

It startles you to hear his voice reach such volumes but you’re inclined to agree with him this time around. After Wild’s stunt with taking a hit to the head for Wind, you’d been on the look out for his more... self sacrificing behavior. You knew he wouldn’t think twice to do it and you tried to make it so there wouldn’t even be a chance for him to make such a decision.

This time though, in this last fight, you took your eyes off of him for only a moment and that’s when he broke his streak of uneventful fights.

Twilight, of course, is livid and has no regard for the poor creatures of the forest that have to endure his tirade as he unleashes his concern and worry in the form of rage and over exaggerated gestures.

When Hyrule finishes healing your more minor wounds, you slink away from the soon to be screaming match since Wild is very much still conscious, if a little roughed up. You don’t intended to stray as far as you go but you don’t find it in yourself to care for the time being.

Being around so many people for so long is taxing. You make the executive decision to remove yourself for the time being while tensions are high, to both cool off and to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.

There’s a small creek nearby, you find, and decide to make a small space for yourself there until dinner comes rolling around. The birds and the babbling waters calm your soul and snuffle out the last of the adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you can faintly hear the screaming match in the distance that you dipped out of.

You don’t regret it.

More time passes and you find that you may or may not have taken a small nap in the meantime. If the position of the sun is anything to go by.

Despite the pain in your back from sleeping against a tree, the slight ache in your neck from the angle you slept in, you feel better. Clearer, even.

You hope your absence wasn’t entirely noticed but you can’t seem to regret leaving either.

Footsteps creep closer to you and you huddle into a small ball out of habit to avoid detection.

It’s Twilight.

He walks near the creek and takes a heavy seat next to it. He looks both pale or red faced at the same time but exhaustion is laced in his entire body from what you can tell.

He doesn’t notice you.

You uncurl and set your legs out in front of you. Leaning forward a little, as quietly as you can, you see that he’s upset. It doesn’t surprise you. But seeing as you don’t how to deal with an upset Twilight and you can’t really sneak away without crossing his line of sight or making any miniscule noise, you still yourself and wait.

And wait.

Twilight calls your name. Quietly and hollow- like he’s not all there. Or in the way one would talk to a memory.

It’s immediately unsettling. Both in how he sounds and how he knew you were there without you doing anything. But you suppose Twilight can just sense things like that from times to time. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done it.

“I’m here.” You reply.

“How long?”

“A few hours I think. Longer than you were here that’s for sure.” You shrug and slowly crawl out of your hidey hole. “I think I fell asleep....The sun wasn’t over there when I first got here.”

Twilights hums in what you think is agreement but it’s really only a sound. “It’s a nice spot.”

You smile. It’s tense and little fake, but he’s not looking at you so you don’t care for authenticity. “Good thing it’s big enough for the both of us huh?”

“Yeah.” He looked into the distance again, noting that the sun is beginning to set and takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”

“Can’t say that I have.” You move closer to him, aiming to sit by his side. “I’ve always enjoyed sun sets and I find them calming to watch but hearing someone finding them sad is a new one. Do you feel sad as dusk falls?”

He hums again. “They say it’s the only time their world interacts with ours.”

“Whos?”

“Lingering spirits I suppose...” Twilight tilts his head upwards before twisting it to look at you. “It’s nothing. I’m just reminiscing about my life before my adventure is all. My... father told me those words and I haven’t forgotten them since.”

You hum this time and lean back to mirror him. “Wanna tell me why?”

“That Champion reminds me so much of myself and yet... he’s ten times worse.” Twilight falls backwards with a soft thump. “I know why he does it but I...”

“You care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” You shrug. “It’s not exactly a new concept.”

“Tell that to him.”

“Maybe I will. He gets just as upset as you do when this happens, you know.” You shift your weight to make it easier to stand up later.

“Does he? You’d think that he’d get the point to stop doing then.” He growls.

“Maybe he’s scared of losing more friends.” You blurt before you can stop yourself. That was something Wild told you in confidence and while he didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone- that was kinda implied.

Twilight stills for a moment, the fight leaving him again in a single breath as he considers your words. They don’t seem to be new news to him.

Wild is pretty close to Twilight...Maybe he already knew.

“I still think I’m entitled to not like it.” He settles.

“It’s not he’s asking you to be ok with it. I know I’m not.”

“I guess that’s fair then.” Twilight sits up again and stands up in one fluid motion that you envy. With a turn on his heel, he holds his hand out to you to take.

You take it and feel him effortlessly lift you off of the ground with that one hand.

You don’t comment on it.

“Come on.” He says. “I’m going to need you for moral support.”

“Why?”

“If I yelled in front of him of the whole group, I should apologize to him in front of the whole group.” He admits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “But I might need an excuse to get close to him again after all the things I’ve said.”

“I get your desert and you’ve got yourself a deal. I left to not get involved and here you are... involving me.” You tease. “I demand payment.”

“One desert? I can do that.”

Hyrule

“I can’t do this.” You snap your head to the sound of the voice and see Hyrule with his arms cross and shaking.

“What? What’s happening? Hyrule?” You step closer to him as you’re the only one within arms reach. “What do I need to do? How can I help?”

“There’s nothing. Nothing you can do, that can make this better.” Hyrule takes one ground step before throwing his arms down. “Don’t you see them? With all their tools and experience and then there’s- me. Just me. Some magic later and a old man with a sword and I found myself trying to save my princess and defeat some evil, but these guys...”

You look around, trying to see if Legend or Sky are close enough to give you back up, or better yet, take over. You suppose it’s better than a panic attack but it’s so left field that you’re stunned and floundering to catch this hot potato of a conversation.

He keep talking.

“For all that is good and holy, they are heroes. Do you see them? Some of them have training, and families and skills and I....was just a boy in a grave yard. How can I even compete with them? I don’t, that’s how. But how can they consider me an equal? When I was in town and listened to the elders and their stories, they would tell me of a legendary hero from the past who courageously defended our home until the very end and who was virtually undefeated in all his adventures. And then I meet Legend....and he’s so much cooler than all those stories combined.”

“Link.” You call out to him and back to the real world. “You need to slow down for me honey because you’re too fast for me to keep up. What do you mean how can they see you as an equal? You defeated Ganon just as they did. You stood up for your home just as they did. You did it all on your own just as they did. Why wouldn’t they consider you an equal? No one cares about where you’re from, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“But they can do so many things even without the sword!” He exclaims. “They all have a place to go to, a person who cares about them, a title or a skill and a world that’s not on the brink of collapse-”

“Ok, whoa, hey.” You step into his space and take his face into your hands, bringing it up for him to look you in the eyes.

“I have no idea what brought this up but I won’t stand for anyone talking bad about you. And that includes you. We... can talk about your home with clearer heads later, ok? Maybe the others can help with that when we get there, yeah? And well....” You’re sinking. You don’t know what to do with all this information and you have even less of an idea about how to address it.

“Good golly, when it rains, it pours with you lot, doesn’t it?” You hiss under your breath and bite the bullet. With a strong grip, you wrap your arms around the Traveler and pull him close. You try to keep your grip strong without fear of hurting him, but it hits you then how thin he is. How light he actually is. You can feel the hint of armor under his tunic and it does little to quell your fears.

“Clearly there’s a lot on your mind. And... I’m probably not the person to help you through this. If you want to talk about not belonging though, I’m free to listen. I’m the only one here who’s not a Link, if you haven’t noticed.” You try to joke but it falls a little flat. “You though... You belong here with all of us... all of them... And if you need more convincing then I’m bringing this up with Legend who’s is over the moon proud of you and what you can do and he told me himself that he couldn’t be happier to have you as his successor-”

“Really?”

“Not in those exact words admittedly,-” You gulp as the word vomit continues to bubble out of you in waves of panic. “-but I know that’s what he meant because he doesn’t stop talking about how cool you are.”

“Hm.”

“And everyone has a different background, ok? Everyone has skills and people that the others don’t have. That’s ok. It’s not a competition. I get worried that one day you guys are going to create some game out of all your trauma. Like... who had it worse and just go around in a circle listing off all the things that happened to each of you... Whoever runs out of things to say or can’t think of something as bad or worse than the others is out. Last man standing wins.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” You feel him chuckle. It’s breathless and small and it doesn’t reach your ears despite your closeness but you feel it.

“Good thing it’s just you and me right now.” You sigh a little in relief and loosen the hug. “Look, just.....whatever you think you can’t do, just know that there is someone who is confidently doing it wrong right now. In the group or not, just keep your eyes and watch. They don’t plan on doing it better either and people are celebrating them for it. Please believe in your own excellence as much as they believe in their mediocrity.”

“Big words.”

“You’re awesome for trying. Others are not and don’t plan to. You’re already better than them.” You amend, stepping away to look him in the eye again. “The group can’t do magic like you can. That’s all you. They all have items sure but no one can do what you do... and you’re self taught, right? That’s incredible! You have just as much as a reason to be here as the others. I swear it.”

Hyrule sighs and gulps. He doesn’t believe you. It’s not enough.

You knew it wouldn’t be and it’s definitely doesn’t scratch the tip of the iceberg of the bomb he just dropped on you but... step by step. Little by little. you have a plan.

“Screw it. Let’s catch up with Wind and Warrior and get them to tell you how awesome you are, since you won’t listen to me. And if you’re still a nonbeliever then we move on to the next pair. We’ll go down the line if we have to.” You nod and grab his hand, beginning to drag him along.

He laughs after you, a little hysterical and in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“That is not new information.” You reply, hiding your grin. “I say it’s Hyrule loving hours and I’m gonna get everyone to join.”

“You’re not joking are you.” It’s a statement. He already knows the answer.

“Nope!”

Legend

It was your turn on watch for the night. In an hour or two you were supposed to wake the Veteran for his shift and finally catch some sleep.

The others snored and slept away without a care in the world. It was just you and cackling fire that was active but you’d kill for something to help your mind get passed the boredom.

Anything but monsters or an attack that is. You’d hate to jinx your good luck so far.

In the corner of your eye, while fighting to keep your head up, you see Legend shift. Not necessarily unusual. You’re inclined to ignore it.

But then he shifts again, whimpering like he’s been hurt and a white knuckled grip on the blanket.

You still and begin to wonder what’s your level of care here.

Part of you, in kindness, wants to go wake him. The lack of sleep seems more merciful than letting him suffer a prison of his own making.

But you also don’t know how he’ll react.

You know he’d hate to be seen as weak for whatever normal reason and he’s been inclined to wake up swinging in the right circumstance.

Twilight suffered a broken nose for the whole night because he was disinclined to wake up Hyrule or take a potion.

Not you’d make the same decision and suffer the whole night in the same manner but it certainly fails to sound appealing.

Just as your about to appeal to your better nature and force yourself to go wake him before it gets worse, he shoots up into a sitting position with a strangled scream. The job seems to have been done for you- but in the worse way.

He’s breathing hard with his hand gripping his chest. Legend begins to frantically look around and slowly begins to piece together where he is and what’s happened. He never looks behind him, where you are, before running a hand through his hair a little harder than you think reasonable and getting to his feet.

You cough slightly, leaning away from the fire and back into previous position. You hadn’t realized you leaned into his direction as you watched him, inches from putting your face into the flame.

He startles at the sound and whips around, one hand poised to reach the sword he’s not equipped with.

“It’s just me.” You wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He calms somewhat and you can see his jaw flex. “Well, goodnight to you.”

His voice is croaked- from disuse or an overwhelming emotion, you’re not sure.

“For me maybe. But you? That was quite a scare you gave me as well.” You play it off. You can at least pretend that you weren’t watching him. That you would have saved him a little earlier and took your sweet time doing it. You offer a peace offering to your morals. “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He snaps, furiously rubbing his face. “It’s nothing new. We all deal with it one way or another.”

“True. But it’ll be easier to let it go, and let the experience float up into the air and never return. Otherwise it’ll fester and grow.” You shrug. “But I won’t force you. I know you’re not exactly fond of me.”

Legend glares into the fire as you talk and refuses to look at you. Once you finish though, he moves his head away, still not in your direction but visually drops more tension from his shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything.

“There’s a spot next to me with your name on it if you want it.” You offer. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”

He takes more time to respond and you resolve to go back to staring at the fire.

A moment or two passes and you hear the faint sound of crunched foliage. It takes of your will power to not look up as he approaches and even more so when he decidedly sits next to you.

The fabric of his tunic brushes your leg for a minute and it strikes you odd that he sat that close despite the rest of the log at his disposal.

It must have been bad if he wants to be close to someone right after. The thought enters your mind. Once it’s there you don’t chase it away and instead casually lean back with your hand behind you.

If the angle causes you to lean closer to him in the process, you don’t say anything.

And if Legend notices, he doesn’t say anything either.

A moment of time passes in silence, the only sounds through the whole forest are crickets and a passing owl with the occasional whisper through the trees.

“How do you do it?” He asks.

“Do what?” You tilt your head in his direction.

He’s still not looking at you.

“Keep going.”

The answer shocks momentarily but you’re not surprised that it’s coming from him out of the whole group. “Legend-”

“I’m tired.” He says instead. “I hate this. I hate that sword. I hate that pig demon. I hate that I can’t be done.”

You hand comes up to his shoulder and you force him to look at you.

He lets you and he looks up to you with tears building up in his eyes and for a moment you’re struck by the odd balance of how old he sounds but how young he looks- is.

You stuck floundering for a response to answer him with but he asks one more thing. “Why can’t I be done?”

You pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t know Link.”

You find yourself wanting to cry as well once Legend collapses into the hug. He’s not hugging you back but he’s being held for the first time in... you don’t know how long. Your grip tightens.

“But I do know is that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And maybe....maybe this is the final fight. That’s why we’re all together right? A darkness so evil ahead that every hero is required and then....rest. For each and every one of you.”

You sniffle, carding your fingers through his hair without a moments hesitation. “If it’s not then I’ll fight everything for you from then on. I’ll take your place you hear me. I’ll take your job and title and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

“I’m the Hero of Legend. That’s not exactly an easy thing-”

“No. I am the hero now. I’ve decided it.” You hide the tears in his hair to the best of your ability.

Legend snorted, loud and wet but you elected to ignore it just as you were ignoring the ever growing wet spot on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It does now. I said so.”

A beat.

“...Ok.” He sniffled and rubbed his head on your shirt. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the night take over the atmosphere again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He nods once, definitive and final. Your expecting him to let go now and return to his roll, already electing to take over his shift as well and just push through the next day.

Except he doesn’t.

Legend calls your name, testing the waters and lifts his head up ever so slightly. “...It’s not that I’m... not... fond of you-”

“Save it for a rainy day.” You grin. “I think you’ve had your fill of emotions for the night.”

He nods and eventually slips into sleep with his head on your chest, no doubt lulled by your heartbeat.

With tearful eyes, you stare back into the fire.

Time

Time marched from the stunned group the same way a parent does after making a scathing remark instead of a lecture.

You know the one.

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

The poor boys suddenly didn’t know what to so with themselves or how to get back into Time’s good graces.

You felt for them and their awkward meandering through the camp. So, with your pride swallowed, you follow in the vague direction where Time went off to and decided to at least talk him down.

He is... decidedly harder to find than you previous imagined.

Just as your starting to think the Old Man doesn’t want to be found, you hear subtle swing. It’s to your left and it sounds heavy.

So naturally you follow it

Which leads you to a small clearing just beyond a bunch of bushes.

Time is there, full armor still on and swinging his giant sword forcefully, each swing stronger than the last. It’s as if it weighs only as much as Four. You’ve wondered in the past what it would like if he decided to actually throw the smallest ones of the group but out of fear, do not voice your ideas.

Just because Time won’t doesn’t mean that the others won’t try.

It’s hard being the responsible one when there are nine Links to take care of, each as much as a gremlin as the last. It must be hell on Time’s back to carry the group.

You see where he’s coming from and yet...

“You can stand to be a little more patient with them.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can actually stop them.

Time stops abruptly, in both the figurative and literal sense, before the man turns to you with that same face of neutral disappointment.

“They are heroes.”

“They are also children, Time. I think that it’s because they are heroes that they deserve to act their age every now and then.”

“Slacking won’t divert the evil away from our home.”

“Running face first into the problem won’t solve it either.” You sigh and walk up the man. He tenses as you approach and slowly lets his weapon down. The Hero of Time is an intimidating creature but you refuse to let that dissuade you.

“Look, I know why you’re upset. I get it. It’s hard to get a job done when you feel like you’re the only one it’s important to... But have a little faith in our group. Please.” You plead and stop right in front of him. You have to look up at him slightly due to the angle but he was forced to acknowledge you here.

His arms cross and he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“You’re right, they are heroes and there is a job to be done and an evil to be done away with. But they were even younger when they earned the title. They still vanquished the darkness even for their age. You have to trust that they will do the same here.” You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, getting onto your tip toes to look him in the eye better. “And they will. Because they are heroes. Because they have the spirit of courage. Because they are Link... Just like you.”

He softens his stance ever so slightly but he still doesn’t look pleased.

“It’s not easy I know.” You get down again. “But they look up to you. I think all of them do. And I can’t stand to see how hurt they look when you get upset when they act their age. It’s not like they can help it.”

He takes a deep breath and uncrossed his arms. He takes a minute to respond. Time stared at you intensely before he drops all the tension in his body and finally lets his weapon go. A single hand comes up to pat your head.

“Let’s head back to camp.”

He says nothing else and continues to walk past you and back the way you came.

You don’t ignore the sense of accomplishment and refuse to dampen it when you catch the tiniest slivers of a smile before he turns away from you completely.

Wind

You’re lying peacefully on the dirt when you hear someone sit beside you with more power than would ever be needed.

You don’t open your eyes for the sake of the other person, not really thinking much of it and even forgetting that they were there until you heard the smallest of sniffles.

Now, you’re sitting straight up with wide and concerned eyes locking directly onto the crying form of your beloved pirate.

It’s hard not to feel for him and while you’re not sure what sprung this up, you don’t have it in you to turn him away, or to ignore that he was upset.

Neither of you say anything and you’re almost afraid it make the picture in front of you a little too real.

Instead, you move yourself closer to him and open up your arms.

Wind doesn’t hesitate to throw himself onto you and let his body sag with unwanted emotion.

As sobs silently rack his body, you begin to feel yourself rock back and forth for both his comfort and yours. Soon you start running your hands through his hair and rub small circles on his back.

He cries for a long time and never once gives you a clue why.

You don’t ask either.

Still, once the moment has passed, you continue to hold onto him. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of you any time soon and you’re happy to be there for as long as he’ll let you.

That doesn’t stifle your concern over the cause but you’re loath to bring it up.

Minutes pass with the boy in your arms and it’s only when you shift positions, does he look up at your face. His eyes aren’t as red anymore with the amount of time that’s passes since he’s stopped crying but his face is still a little puffy and his cheeks are both stained in tears and incredibly red.

A small smile creeps onto your face when you look back at him. “Feel better?”

“A little.” He admits and sniffles the last of the tears away, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“For you? Anytime.”

Warrior

It struck you as odd that it was dinner time the group seemed to be missing someone.

Earlier that day the group had split up to take down some troublesome monsters on the border of some tiny town defenseless town and that was that.

It didn’t seem like big deal nor was it a particularly hard thing to do. The monsters weren’t infected and they didn’t have numbers on their side so your group took care of the pests in a matter of moments.

And yet, when everyone regrouped there was a visible tension.

Some thing had happened on the other side of the fight and no one wanted to fess up, even less so when Time mentioned it.

It worried you.

Now, as it stood the tension was still there but Warrior didn’t want to come out of the wood work. He had left earlier claiming to need to check up on his appearance and no one had questioned him. No one offered to go with him.

It was always dangerous to go alone.

“Hey, has anyone seen Warrior?” You glance around again, hoping it was just a miscount on your part. “It’s been awhile since he left.”

“He takes his sweet time.” Legend snapped. “And you know how narcissistic he is. He’s probably trying to get every single little hair in the right place and working out every little blemish in his stupid uniform-”

“I’m going to look to him.” You stand, placing your cooling food down by your foot. You don’t know what happened or what caused it but at least an idea begins to form. “It’s been too long regardless. Keep my food warm for me, yeah?”

You don’t wait for a response and walk away into the tree line where you think Warrior might be.

“It’s getting dark. Be careful.” Someone calls from behind you, mouth clearly full of food.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

You march on.

When you’re sure you’re far enough away, you begin to call out to Warrior.

It takes a minute to get any results but you’re starting to worry about your friend. The sun is lowering in the horizon as time goes by and you’re beginning to feel silly and frustrated and-

“I’m here.” A tired voice replies.

“Oh thank goodness.” You cross the distance between you two. “I was really starting to worry.”

Warrior puts on a brave face and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes greets you when you stop in front of him. His look a little puffy and you think his eyes might be a little red but it easily be the lighting- or lack there of.

“Are you ok?”

“Obviously.”

You doubt him and it must have shown on your face because he immediately begins walking away. “Well look at the time. Crazy how fast the sun goes. Let’s get back to the group and eat. I’m starving-”

You grab his wrist as he pasts you and get a good look at him. “Are you ready to go back to the group? They can wait a little longer if you want them too.”

It irritated you that it’s come to this. How no one went to check on him. How no one offered to go with you. How no one seemed bothered by this. How long that he was alone dealing with something that’s been bothering him. How it took you so long to do something.

“No. It’s fine.” He says. Lying. It must have really bothered him, usually he’s better than this. “It’s about time to head back anyway.”

“They can wait.” Your grip tightens. “The sun can wait. We’re not obligated to be there. What’s wrong? ...If you want to talk about it that is...” You trail off uselessly. It only occurred to you that near the end that he may not even speak about with you. You weren’t the closest in terms of grouping but you can’t stand the thought of someone hurting alone.

“I’m fin-”

“You look like you were crying.” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine, just say it. But you might need more time before you head back anyway if you actually want them to believe you when you say you’re fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Warrior?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“If it bothers you then it’s not nothing.” You push. “But....fine. I won’t force you to talk to me. I just wanted to see if you were ok... You’re not but it’s better than seeing you bleeding I suppose.” You grit your teeth, annoyed by the lack of results. You did tell him that he didn’t have to talk to you and you don’t hurt him further but part of you wants to fix this. Even if you don’t know what it is, your heart calls for justice at his pain.

But he is unwilling.

“Camp is this way by the way.” You mention, looking at the ground. “You were actually farther away than I thought, so it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I just think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”

You still and slowly turn to face him.

He’s looking at the ground as well, unable to say it and look you in the eye. It’s not what you were expecting and you’re not sure how to follow after that.

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him- even rarer that he’s showing it to you and you don’t want to squander the show of trust.

“Back home...there was a lot of... attention on me. A lot of blame... for starting the war. Or at least being the cause of it.” He admits, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. A little bit kicks up and sticks to the toe. He does nothing about it. “People listened to what I had to say because I was some destined hero. At first I didn’t think anything of it because I had thought it was one big mistake and sooner or later people were going to see that I was just some soldier not worth the time of day. It happened to be pure luck that Impa got it right when she gave me this uniform. Zelda made me a captain because of it and suddenly I had all of these men I had to give orders to. And if anything failed or if we lost, it would all have fallen on me. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of the war...and then we found out why Cia was even opening these portals to begin with-”

You hug him.

“Please don’t cry.” You say into his chest. Your throat is tight and it a little hard to breath but you power through. “I’m not good at this. I never have been.”

“I’m not going to cry. It’s not worth crying.”

“I’ll cry for you then.” You admit and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was no ones fault.” Warrior hugs you back and rests his head on top of yours. His voice seems a little tight too and you’re sorry for all the things that he must have gone through.

You hug him for as long as you deem appropriate before letting your arms go lack and stepping away.

Or... at least you try to.

Warrior suddenly has a grip on you and refuses to let you leave.

“Please... Just stay a little longer.”

You do.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I had no idea where exactly to go with this one #believe it or not I wrote Legends first.#I didn't know it would get as long as it did #are these a bit generic?#yes.#warrior's is also very long #sorry not sorry #should I have split this one?#probably.#did I?#no.#it took days ya'll #next time I'll split it again

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone.

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet.

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror.

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself.

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s size.

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara. “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach.

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire.

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her.

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout.

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?”

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.”

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation.

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.”

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing.

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention.

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply.

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.”

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn’t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one.

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted.

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own.

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #prompts #collab #snacmc

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