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dreamerstreamer · 4 years

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Ocean Blue

Pairing: GeorgeNotFound / George x mermaid!gn!reader

Summary: [Mermaid!AU] George loves the ocean and spending his summers at his grandfather’s seaside home. That is until one day, he meets you, and he finds himself falling in love all over again.

Warnings: one scene with a tw// depiction of drowning

Word Count: 11.6k

A/N: i could not get this idea out of my head and just knew that i had to write it. it was somewhat inspired by the little mermaid, but a lot of it also came from my own imagination. i took a bit of a different approach while writing it, but i hope you all like it! <3

George loved the ocean.

He loved the spray of sea salt on his face as he sat on the pier. He loved the crashing of the waves as the rolled up along the shore. He loved the cry of seagulls as they soared overhead, their ivory white wings dotting the sky like tiny clouds.

There wasn’t anywhere else on the planet where the world looked so vibrant, so vivid and bright. Maybe he was biased, as a colourblind man whose favourite colour was blue, but he didn’t care. He loved the ocean, and he loved being surrounded by the great, deep blue.

Every year, he couldn’t wait for summer to roll around so that he could travel down to his grandfather’s house by the seaside. Without fail, George would come running up the steps into his grandfather’s warm, familiar arms as spring turned to summer and the sun’s rays beat down on his back. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t swim—he was more than happy to simply sit on the beach and rock along in his grandfather’s boats, pulled along by the sea’s gentle waves.

Truly, George was positive that there was nothing more perfect than the summers he spent at his grandfather’s.

The seashore town was quaint and friendly, a stark contrast to the bustling city life he typically led. His friends Clay and Sapnap lived nearby too, so he never got lonely, even if he was so far away from home. He would go fishing and boating by his grandfather’s side, a smile plastered to his face as the wind nipped at his skin. Together, the two of them ate every meal on the back porch, gazing out at the vast sea as they quietly ate.

Yet, every time he looked out at the ocean, something in his grandfather’s eyes shifted. Something sorrowful and heavy swam in his eyes as he watched the tide rise and fall along the shore, his mouth set into the smallest of frowns. George remembered asking him about it, once.

“Grandpa, do you love the ocean?”

He blinked, turning to face his grandson with a wide smile. “Of course, I do.” He patted the wall behind him. “Why, I even put my home beside it!”

George furrowed his brows. “Then why do you always seem so sad when you look at it?”

His grandfather paused, his smile slowly waning before disappearing entirely. George blinked, looking at him expectantly for a few moments before he finally sighed. “Love,” he said, “is a dangerous thing, George.”

His gaze turned to the ocean, something familiar and empty flashing in it. “It’s so, so beautiful, but it can also break your heart.”

George didn’t ask him what he meant by that—it didn’t seem right—but he trusted his grandfather. He would have no reason to lie to him, even if he still looked so sad. No matter, every summer, George returned to his grandfather’s home by the seashore, eagerly awaiting the moment he would lay eyes on the sea once more.

George loved the ocean.

But he never knew just how much.

“Clay, you’re rowing too fast.”

Clay scowled, shooting Sapnap a sour look. “You’re the one who’s rowing too slow!”

Sapnap waved an arm over the water on his side on the boat. “Are you seeing how hard the boat is turning in my direction?” He narrowed his eyes as he gritted out, “That’s because you’re speeding up.”

Clay’s glower only intensified. “No, it’s because you’re slowing down, oh my go—”

George let out a long, drawn-out groan, rubbing at his temples. “What are you guys—toddlers? I’ve seen elementary school kids resolve arguments with more rationale than you two.”

Clay sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he curled his fingers tighter around the paddle handle. “Can you blame me? Sapnap’s dumb as a rock.”

“Clay, I’m going to kill yo—”

“Next time,” George said loudly, quickly shutting Sapnap up, “we’re taking the rowboat instead of the canoe. I cannot deal with you two.”

Sapnap leaned back, wriggling his eyebrows at George. “Don’t act like you don’t spend the rest of the year wishing you were hanging out with us.”

George scoffed. “I’m not—don’t flatter yourselves.”

“Well,” Clay said, his lips quirking into a teasing yet honest smile, “I wish you didn’t only show up in the summertime. The rest of the year is such a drag without you.”

There was a slight pause, then Sapnap nodded, tucking a hand under his chin. “For once, I agree with Clay. You really should come down more often.”

George hummed, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe you guys should come visit me in the city, instead. It might be a nice change of scenery.”

“Maybe,” Clay mused. He gestured to the space around him. “But you’d be missing out on all this.”

George blinked, then turned slightly, his gaze sweeping across his surroundings. Greg, fluffy clouds streaked across the cerulean sky, and a seagull cried out overhead. The sea stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see, and were it not for the compass sitting in Sapnap’s satchel, he would be certain they were lost.

As the rolling waves rocked the boat from side to side, George couldn’t help but smile, resting his arm against the boat’s ledge. “Yeah,” he muttered, a fond look flitting through his eyes. “You’re right.”

Sapnap opened his mouth, surely to make a snarky remark, when a gust of wind suddenly whipped his hair into his eyes. Clay let out a cackle at the sight, but was cut off when another strong breeze rushed past him. George rubbed at his bare arms, a shiver running down his spine.

Suddenly, he grew very still.

It had been warm just a few minutes ago.

Just then, something cold and wet fell onto his arm. George tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky. The grey clouds from earlier had grown dark and thick, and it had begun to rain. If there was one thing he had learned over the summer, it was how to recognize an incoming storm.

As the rain started to fall quicker and quicker, George turned to his friends, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Guys,” he said, “we need to head back.”

It was at that moment that a burst of crackling thunder rolled across the sky. George gritted his teeth, feeling his shirt start to soak through. “Now.”

Neither of them asked for him to elaborate, far too distracted by the crashing waves that grew tougher and rockier with each passing second. “Clay,” Sapnap said, reaching for his paddle with one hand and pushing his wet hair back with the other, “start rowing.”

Clay didn’t look up from where he was focused on paddling, his gaze set into a serious look as water ran down his cheek. “Already on it, slowpoke.”

Ignoring the urge to snap back at him, Sapnap turned to George, worry soaking into his words. “Life jacket. On. Hurry.”

George nodded, reaching out from under the seat to grab the familiar orange pouch. “Yeah, yeah, I’m—”

A rough wave suddenly crashed into the side of the boat, and George found himself shooting forward, the slippery plastic flying out of his grip and out into the choppy waves. He gasped, lunging for the boat’s ledge, desperately reaching, only to come face to face with the ocean, the life jacket having floated too far for him to reach, now.

The once kind and quiet sea now stared back at him unforgivingly, its murky depths threatening to suck him in and never let him go. He swallowed. He knew without a doubt that he’d never make it out if he fell in without a life jacket—regardless of whether or not he could swim.

“It’s fine!” Clay called out over the howling wind, his golden locks flipping into his face. “We still have three more. Here, let me just...”

He dropped the paddle onto the canoe floor with a clatter, slipping his arm under the bench. Panic suddenly shot through George’s system, and a horrible, sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.

Something awful was about to happen—he just knew it.

The moment the notion registered in his gut, he saw it. Well, he felt it more than saw it. The wave crashing into the boat rocked him so hard that in one moment, he was sitting with his back against the boat ledge, his hand gripping the painted wood. In the next, he was tumbling out of the boat, his lips parted in a silent scream.

I’m too close to the edge, was his only thought.

In an instant, Clay was sitting upright again, his viridian eyes frozen wide with nothing but sheer fear, and the wooden ledge suddenly felt like it was leagues away from him. George felt the cold waves lap at his sopping shirt, and Sapnap let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“George!”

For a split second, time seemed to slow. George could clearly make out the sight of Clay’s wide eyes and Sapnap’s open mouth, could see the waves lapping at his back with a clarity he didn’t know was even possible.

Then he went under with a splash.

The moment his head was submerged, he gasped, feeling his lungs fill with seawater, the salt burning his throat. He felt the raging current wrap around his middle like a noose and yank him back, further and further from the boat. Desperation slammed into him like a truck, and he futilely kicked his legs, his hand reaching for the unforgiving surface.

No! Please!

Clay let out a desperate scream, lunging across to the other side of the boat, but it was already too late. George was already so far from them, sinking faster than an anchor. He could feel his eyes sting—whether it was from the seawater or tears, he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he cared. All he wanted was to get out, but he could already feel his muscles start to grow tired.

I don’t want to die. Not like this.

He thrashed at the waves that only seemed to pull him further and further under. With each second that ticked by and each desperate kick of his arms, he felt fatigue sink its claws in deeper. The blue he had once loved so dearly now held him hostage, like a mouse in a cage. No matter how hard he grasped at the waves, they would not allow him to move upward. It was almost like he was chained to the bottom of the ocean, destined only to fall lower and lower. His chest felt like it was burning, despite being surrounded by a world of water.

This wasn’t happening—this couldn’t be happening. What would his grandfather think? His mother? His father?

His arms fell limp at his side, his legs finally growing still as the freezing water dug into his skin.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

He was vaguely aware of Sapnap’s muffled shouts and could barely make out the shape of Clay’s arms reaching for him, but they all felt so distant, now—their faces looking like nothing more than distorted silhouettes. He could have even sworn he felt something wrap around his wrist, but by then, he was far too gone.

I’m tired, he thought, his eyelids falling shut.

And the cold, murky depths dragged him into darkness.

George awoke to something warm and wet brushing over his cheek.

Slowly, he shifted, inhaling deeply only to feel an incessant itch digging into the back of his throat. Almost immediately, he began to cough, the warmth suddenly leaving his cheek. Above him, a voice gasped.

“You’re alive!”

George froze at that. I am?

He heard something shift beside him. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought that I was almost too late. That would have been really bad.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he curled them downward only to pause when his palm met sand. I’m... on the beach?

The last thing he remembered was being pulled under the water, waves cresting over his head and saltwater binding around him like a trap. He could recall the icy chill that ran down his spine like an eel as he kicked fervently, trying to reach the surface only to be tugged deeper and deeper downward.

Just how in the world was he even alive?

With a soft groan, George blinked, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. The sky was clear now, he noticed as the cloudiness of his vision quickly lifted. Carefully pushing forward, he sat upright, wincing at the slight ache in his muscles. How long has it been since, well... everything? He didn’t know.

“How are you feeling?”

He jumped at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice coming directly beside him. Gulping, his turned, his gaze landing on you. The moment your eyes met, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, rattling against his rib cage as his eyes traced over your face. Your eyes almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, dappled with a shimmer he had never seen before. He took in the sight of your dewy skin, dripping with saltwater, and your torso, shimmering in the sunlight.

Your bare torso.

His cheeks flushed bright pink as he swallowed, trying to calm down his racing heart. Were you naked? Where in the world were your clothes? He could feel the wheels in his head turning at breakneck speed, with only one thing in mind. He gulped.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down—

He glanced down.

But instead of, well, you know, what he found was a tail. A fish tail.

His jaw dropped, the dots finally connecting in his head. There was no way—

“A mermaid?” he blurted.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Mer-maid?” you repeated, slowly forming the unfamiliar words with your lips. You pointed to yourself. “Are you talking about me?”

George nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “My name isn’t mermaid—it’s [Y/N].” You squinted at him for a moment, then your eyes lit up, your tail flapping against the sand. “Could you possibly be referring to my people? Those of us blessed by the ocean with tails?”

His gaze darted down to your tail, following its movement before returning to your face, nodding once more.

You hummed, your gaze thoughtful as you tapped at your chin. “Well, we call each other friends. And family.” You grinned at him, and something warm burst in his chest. “But I guess you could call us seafolk. We belong to the sea, after all. She is our caretaker. Our mother, if you will.”

He could only gape at you in stunned silence. “I-I don’t understand,” he finally sputtered after a long moment. “How did I get here? Did you—?”

You shyly tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, your cheeks growing hot as you lowered your gaze to the damp sand. “Ah, I, um—yes.” Your tail curled a little closer toward you. “I saw you fall in and dragged you out to shore.”

He blinked at you, his lips parted in awe. “You saved my life,” he whispered, suddenly feeling breathless.

You shot your head up, your face growing even warmer. Waving your hands in front of you, you stammered, “W-Well, I wouldn’t call it that—a”

He shook his head, and you fell silent, only able to watch in wonder as he grinned at you. “No, no. You did. You saved me. I would have drowned if you didn’t.”

You blinked at him once, then a sheepish smile slowly spread across your lips. “Oh, um.”

He felt something in his chest melt a little at how soft your voice was. “Thank you, [Y/N],” he murmured, hoping you could hear his sincerity.

For a moment, you only stared at one another, your eyes scanning each other’s faces. He couldn’t think of a better word to describe you than stunning. Suddenly, you raised your hand, slowly reaching up toward his cheek. George swallowed, feeling his heart flip. Your fingers were only an inch away from his skin when a distant voice called out from behind him.

“Oh my god, Clay. I think I see him.”

George froze, and your arm darted back to your side, your shoulders growing tense as your gaze darted behind him. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes only widening at the sight of a small speck atop the cliff a few yards away. He was embarrassed to admit that he had been so entranced by you that he had almost forgotten about his friends.

“Are you for real? You’re crazy, let me see—”

A second silhouette joined the first, and in a flash, you were shuffling down the beach, the tide lapping at your tail as your hands pushed against the dark sand. “I have to go,” you mumbled in a hurry, your words coming out frenzied. “They can’t see me.”

Your eyes darted back to his for a split second, and you bit your lip, a pang of guilt shooting across your face. “You weren’t even supposed to see me.”

He leaned forward, the words flying from his mouth before he could stop them. “Wait, um, please!” He hesitated for a second—just one—then he opened his mouth once more. “Will I ever see you, again?”

You paused, your body fully submerged under the water now. Something like fear and curiosity swam in your eyes. “I, um, I don’t even know your na—”

“George,” he said quickly, his gaze trained on yours. “My name is George.”

Your eyes grew wide, and he thought you were going to say something when there came another shout—closer, this time.

“It’s him! It’s really him! Sapnap, go tell gramps!”

Your lips curled into a small smile, sad and longing. “Goodbye, George. I’m glad you’re alive.”

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something to you—anything. But you were gone before he could even make a sound, disappearing into the waves with a splash. He stared at the spot where you had vanished into ocean, entranced by the rippling water.

That was real, right? He hadn’t just had some beautiful daydream, had he?

All of a sudden, something barrelled into his shoulder, and he yelped as he was knocked onto the sand. Coughing, he blinked wildly up at the sight of Clay’s faces hovering over him. His eyes were glossy as they raked over his face, a giddy smile tugging at his lips.

“George?” he breathed, half-laughing as he spoke. “Oh my god, you’re alive.” Leaning back, he grabbed George’s hand and pulled him upright, his grip nearly crushing his hand with how tight he was squeezing. “How? How did you make it? We thought you were a goner, especially with those waves.” His chest shook as he took in a trembling breath, sighing with aching relief. “It must have been a miracle.”

George nodded, but he was only half paying attention. His head was still spinning with dizzying thoughts of your hand brushing against his cheek and the sight of your dazzling smile. He could have sworn he could hear your voice in the crashing waves and the sweet sea breeze.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A miracle.”

George grunted as he tugged back at the paddles once more, feeling the boat push further back beneath his feet. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he could feel his shoulders start to ache, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was no way he was going home without seeing you, again.

It had been a little over a week since he had been rescued from the seashore, tumbling back into his grandfather’s shaky arms with a sob. He knew they tried to hide it, but he was pretty sure Sapnap and Clay both cried that day after apologizing profusely to his grandfather. Just that once, he kept quiet, but only that one time.

He remembered his grandfather’s trembling hands as he gripped his shoulders, his old, weary eyes searching his face. “Just... how did you come back?”

At the time, George had swallowed, lowering his gaze to the ground. He had an answer—a beautiful, mesmerizing one at that. But as wondrous as it was, it was also one that no one would ever believe.

“I must have been swept back to the shore, or something,” he had said instead, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I guess I just l got lucky.”

His grandfather had stared at him for a long moment, and his eyes had glinted almost knowingly, but he had only smiled and hugged him a little tighter. “Lucky, indeed.”

For the next few days, George wasn’t allowed out of his grandfather’s sight. While he understood his grandfather’s fears, he quickly grew sick of it. It wasn’t his fault that there was a freak storm, and his grandfather knew it. Storms that appeared that quickly were rare, and George swore up and down that he wouldn’t go out to sea on a bad day ever again. It took hours of begging, but his grandfather finally agreed with a clap to his back and a stern look that George didn’t even have to ask about to know what it meant.

Be careful.

And of course, George wasn’t about to be anything less than careful, if not also the tiniest bit reckless.

After all, he wouldn’t exactly call rowing out to the middle of the sea in search of a mermai—er, seaperson—the most careful thing in the world.

Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it? he thought, feeling his muscles strain beneath his arm as he pulled back. Letting out another small groan, he lowered his arms and set the paddles down in their holders, rolling his neck with a determined huff. I have to see them, again. I just have to.

He couldn’t explain it, really. On one hand, he thought it just had to be the mystical factor that drew him back in—what other person could say they had met someone like you? But on the other, he knew it was more than just what you were, but also who you were.

You were kind, and selfless, and humble, and curious. You had saved him from what otherwise would have been most certain death, and you did it all while knowing he couldn’t offer you anything in return. He could still see your bashful smile and your cheeks stretched in glee in his head as clear as day, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the way you made his heart flip.

There was no doubt about it—he was smitten.

Just then, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

“George?”

He froze, his fingers going slack against the paddle handles as he turned.

George would recognize your voice even if it came from a mile away.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he turned, his chest suddenly feeling a million times tighter than it had a few moments ago. You tilted your head at him from where you were treading in the water.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, your name rolling off his tongue like a secret plea.

He could barely make out the silhouette of your tail beneath the gentle waves, the scales reflecting shards of scattered light across the surface. You swam a bit closer, your eyebrows knitting together as a bright, curious look swirled in your gaze. “You... you came back?”

He nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “Of course.” He paused, something warm and prickly climbing up in his chest, then hastily added, “I had to.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

He sucked in a deep breath as he set down the paddles, facing you head-on. He could have said anything, really—it wasn’t like you’d know if he was lying. But there was something about the way you looked at him, something about the earnestness of your tone that made him want to tell you the truth.

“I wanted to see you, again,” he said honestly.

You swam even closer, so close that you were touching the boat, now. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” you whispered, your voice coming out almost as if it were a simple breeze on the wind.

His eyes never left yours. “No.”

Your eyes flashed, your cheeks burning ever so slightly. Something like hope danced in his veins, and he found himself speaking once more.

“And—” He gulped. “And what about you? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

You stared at him for a moment longer. Then, your lips curled into a brilliant grin, and he suddenly felt as though you had sucked the air from his lungs with a single look.

“No.”

It was only a matter of time before George found himself drawn to you like the planets to the sun, returning day after day to the ocean just to see you, again. The two of you would meet at your favourite rock, one that just barely stuck out of the water enough for you to sit on and watch the clouds. Clay and Sapnap would whine about it, of course, claiming that he was abandoning them, but he always took the time to hang out with them—he made sure of that.

With each passing day he spent chatting with you atop the rocking waves, the more and more he captivated he became by you. You told him of your love of seeing the sunset above the water, and how much you loved to hear the passing birds sing. He shared with you his passion for games and explained to you what a computer was.

(“It’s like a... metal box?” he had said, gesturing vaguely. “But it lights up and has moving pictures.”

He was almost positive he was already half-in love with the way your eyes swam with curiosity. “I’ve never heard of anything like that! Could I try using one? I would love to bring one home.”

“That, um, won’t exactly work.”)

Not a single day went by where George wasn’t drowning in thoughts of you, always thinking of new things to tell you and ask you about and share with you and—really, he felt like he could talk to you for years, if he wanted to, and he didn’t think he would particularly mind it if that ended up being the case. Despite how much time he with you, George never brought anything home with him. That was, until today.

“I got you a present!”

He blinked at you, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You did?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes glimmering with stars. “Yeah!” Slowly, you lifted your arms up from behind your back, raising your palms up until they rested on the edge of the boat. “Here.”

A quiet gasp escaped his thang as he stared down at your hands with a wondrous look, fascination bubbling up between his lungs. “A conch shell?” he murmured.

Reaching over, you took one of his hands in yours. He felt a spark run up his arm at your touch, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist. Despite how cold the ocean was, your hand was warm against his skin. With a soft hum, you flipped his hand over and slid the shell into his palm before letting go. He found himself missing your touch in an instant, his fingers itching to search for yours once more.

“I picked it out myself,” you said proudly, a triumphant smile gracing your lips. “It’s the prettiest one from my collection.” Your eyes darted to his face, and you bit the inside of your cheek, your grin faltering slightly. “Do you—do you like it?”

He watched as you lowered your gaze to the gentle, lapping waves and the sunlight danced on your tail. Your thumb nervously tapped against the edge of the boat, and he felt something warm and wet slink down and around his rib cage. Smiling, he curled his fingers around the shell, clutching it close to his chest.

“I love it. Really.”

The brightness of your smile was absolutely blinding, but he didn’t think he would mind losing the rest of his sight to you.

That day, George‘s grandfather asked him about the conch shell he had placed on his bedroom windowsill, eyeing it with a coy gleam in his eye. “Who gave that to you?”

George paused at the question, mulling it over for a moment before an image of your laughing face shot through his mind. His lips quirked into a warm smile.

“Someone special.”

A few days later, George found him rowing back out to your rock once more, but this time, his heart was hammering away in his chest. With each row of the paddle, the blood rushing through his ears grew louder. He could only hope you would like it, and only pray that you felt the same way.

“George! You’re back!”

He startled, glancing over his shoulder to see you hauling yourself up onto the rock. The sun framed your head in a glowing halo as you pushed your wet hair away from your face, smiling welcomingly. Chuckling, he ignored the nerves sparking up his backside at the sight.

“Of course I am,” he said, sending you a cheeky look. He set down his paddles, smiling. “Did you miss me?”

Your smile was earnest as you said, “Always.”

He coughed, lifting a fist to cover his mouth and the burning heat shooting you his neck. “T-Thanks,” he managed to choke out with a grateful smile. He glanced down at his fingers, trying to pretend they were shaking as he opened his mouth, again. “Um, [Y/N]?”

Your tail curled a little tighter into itself, and you smiled at him. “Yes?”

His toes curled in his shoes as he willed himself to keep his eyes on yours. “Remember, uh, how you gave me that conch a little while back?”

You nodded, tilting your head at him. “Well,” he continued, flashing you a shaky grin as he under the boat seat, “I also got you something.”

In an instant, you were leaning forward eagerly, your eyes glimmering with curiosity. “You did?” You clasped your hands together, practically shaking with excitement. “Oh, what is it, what is it?”

George swallowed, feeling the gnawing feeling in his gut creep up to squeeze his heart. He sucked in a quiet breath before pushing it down once more, finally lifting up his arm to reveal his gift.

It was a bouquet.

George pretended his face wasn’t on fire as your jaw dropped, half-looking like you were about to throw yourself into the boat. Surely you knew just what he meant by giving you flowers, right...?

“Oh my gosh, George,” you whispered, shuffling a little closer toward him. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you peered over the edge and at the bouquet in his hands, and he nearly melted at the sight. The awestruck look on your face was worth all of his nerves and more.

Suddenly, you raised your head, your eyes locking onto his. “What are they?”

He froze. You... don’t know what flowers are? How can you possibly not know what flowers ar—?

His train of thought came to a screeching halt, and he resisted the urge to slam his forehead straight into his paddle. Right. You lived underwater.

How foolish of him to think you would know.

Trying not to let his shoulders slump too much, his offered you a grin. “They’re called flowers,” he explained. “There are different kinds of flowers, but these ones are called daisies.” He reached his arm out over the ledge to where you sat, angling the bottom of the bouquet toward you. “Here. You hold them here—around the stems.”

You slowly wrapped your fingers around the delicate ends, careful not to crush them under your grip. Once you were holding the bouquet securely, George sat back, watching with a fond look as you turned it over in your hands.

“Flow-ers,” you sounded out slowly. “Flowers. And day... zees?” You wrinkled your nose, shooting George a questioning look. When he nodded, your face brightened. “Daisies! Daisies. Flowers and daisies.”

George could only smile as you examined the flowers this way and that. The disappointment he felt a few minutes ago had completely vanished, now—he was far more enraptured by your fascinated expression and the small sounds of awe you were making.

“They’re so pretty!” you squealed, your tail happily flopping against the rock. Lifting the centers up to your nose, you inhaled, exhaling with a sweet sigh. “And they smell so nice.”

You traced a finger over the flower edge, humming to yourself with a thoughtful look. “We don’t have these below the sea. The closest thing we have is coral, but they’re not nearly as soft as this.”

He leaned his arm on the wooden edge, murmuring, “Yeah, petals are really soft, aren’t they?”

Your gaze flitted to his and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Petals?” you parroted.

He blinked, lifting his head as recognition flickered through his mind. “Oh,” he said, reaching over to gesture to the soft, white parts, “I’m talking about these here.”

You brushed your fingers over the daisy petals, something tender settling across your features. “They’re so... delicate,” you whispered. “They’re not like anything that grows on the ocean floor.”

George stared at you as you leaned back against the wet slab of stone, wistfully gazing out at the horizon. A cool gust of air ruffled your hair, and a whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his head.

I want to to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to understand you. I want to know you. I...

Just like that, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I want to see your world.”

You turned to face him, blinked wildly. “Huh?”

He jumped, his eyes going wide. Oh, he said that out loud. Oh, no. His fingers tightened into a clenched fist at his side, and he felt his nails dig into the palm of his hand. As you cocked your head, inching down the rock toward him, he felt a tide of acceptance wash over him.

Well, there was no going back now, was there?

“I want to see the world you live in,” he admitted. “I want to see what the sun looks like from the bottom of the ocean. I want to see the rest of your conch shell collection, but down where you keep them all. I want to meet your friends, your family.”

His chest suddenly felt tight, something warm and sweet coiling around his heart. “I want to know what seafolk things make you happy.”

Your lips curled into a smile, but it was sad. “But you can’t,” you said softly.

He sighed, mirroring your expression. “But I can’t.”

A melancholic silence fell over the two of you, and you dipped your head, looking down at the creamy white petals in your hands. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of the waves and your soft breathing. All of a sudden, your raised your chin, your fingers squeezing a fraction tighter around the daisy stems.

“I... I want to see your world, too,” you said ardently, making him blink at you in surprise. “I want to walk down a street, and see a dog. Maybe even a cat! I want to meet your friends and your family.”

You smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t nearly as sad. “I want to know what human things make you happy.”

He couldn’t help but return your smile, and another quiet fell over the two of you, but this one was more comfortable—more warm. As you looked at each other, your eyes boring into one another as the sea breeze sang in your ears, George felt something soft and fuzzy wrap around his heart, making his head spin with dizzying thoughts of you.

For once, the two of you weren’t a seaperson and human, destined to be kept apart no matter what.

For once, and even if only for a little while, you were just two hearts connected by the sea.

“Let me teach you how to swim.”

George shot you a bewildered look, his eyebrows knitting together. “What? No.”

You pouted at him, your tail slapping eagerly against the rock. “Please?” you whined. You were practically draping yourself over the boat edge now, and he tried to ignore the way his heart flipped in his chest. “It’ll be so much fun!”

He grimaced, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You don’t have legs like I do,” he reasoned, “and you’ve been swimming all your life. I’m the complete opposite. The learning curve is going to be ridiculously steep.”

Your eyes were full of determination as you lifted your head to meet his gaze, not backing down. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do it and that I can’t teach it! It’ll be super helpful, too!” You squinted at him. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

He swallowed at your closeness, focusing all his energy into keeping the heat from shooting up onto his cheeks. “Well... I mean...”

You inched even closer to him as you begged, your gaze shimmering like the ocean surface. “Please, George? Pretty please?”

He stared down at you for a moment longer, screwing his eyes shut. He was... scared, that was for sure. He may love the sea, but he also knew just how ruthless and unkind it could be. But here you were, looking at him with those pretty, pleading eyes, and he trusted you—he did.

Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his arms in surrender, offering you a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay, you win.”

You dropped back into the water a gleeful look, clapping your hands together in delight. You opened your mouth to speak, but he quickly added on, “But start off slow, okay? I’m nervous.”

You nodded, your gaze growing stern despite your grin. “I will, I swear.”

Feeling his chest unwind the slightest bit at your firmness, his arms trailed down to the hem of his shirt. Grabbing on, he quickly pulled the fabric up and around his head, dropping it onto the damp bench beside him. Turning back to you, he tilted his head, glancing down at the waves anxiously. “Where do we start?”

Your lips were parted, and for a moment you were simply silent, staring at his bare chest. Then, you quickly whipped your head up, blinking as your cheeks grew warm. “Huh? R-Right, um, here!” You shoved your arms out before him, your fingers splayed out as you averted your gaze from his. “Take my hands.”

Lips twitching with amusement, George crouched slightly as he slipped his hands between yours. “Okay,” you said quietly, “now you have to jump in.”

George froze, anxiety pumping through his veins. “Jump... in?” He inhaled a weary breath, his arms shaking. “I...”

You slotted your fingers between his, your expression serious yet earnest. “Yes,” you murmured, just for him to hear. Your eyes bore into his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt his heart skip a beat, but not out of fear. “I’ll be right here, though. I won’t let go. I promise.”

For a few seconds, he simply breathed, staring down at the calm water lying just inches below him. With a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet, one hand lifting up to grab his nose and the other still wrapped in yours. Taking one last peek at your reassuring smile, he screwed his eyes shut.

Then he jumped.

The water came rushing up around him with a splash, cold and invigorating. His grip tightened around his nose as his head went under, and he pursed his lips tighter. The last time he had been in the water taught him to hold his breath underwater, and to hold it well. He felt your tail brush against his legs, and in an instant, your arms were wrapped around his, hoisting up him upward. The moment his face broke the surface, he gasped, his hand dropping to his side as you tread water to keep him afloat.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, your tone reassuring and smooth as you brushed the wet hair away from his face, “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern as you scanned his face, chewing on your lip. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, his chest heaving with a mixture of adrenaline and excitement. Glancing down, he watched as the water parted around your tail as it pushed back and forth, and he quickly found his legs mimicking the motion. A surprised smile tugged at his lips as he felt the bulk ones of his body lift a little. He didn’t realize the water could feel so... refreshing.

“Actually,” he said, turning back to look at you again, “I’m—I’m doing a lot better than I thought.”

An ivory white grin split your lips, and your hold around him tightened the tiniest bit. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing, George.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he felt warmth shoot across his chest. That was totally just because you were holding him, right?

His heart stumbled.

Oh god—you were holding him.

Your arm was pressed against his and he could smell the salt in your hair and you were so warm and—

George swallowed thickly and offered you a lopsided grin. “Thanks.”

You returned his expression and waded a little further out into the watery depths, your grip around him as secure as ever. “Well,” you began, “now that you’re actually in the water, how about we start with just floating? Everyone should learn how to float.”

When he nodded, you hummed with a determined look. “Just lean back until you’re facing straight up to start...” you instructed, pushing gently on his shoulder.

George sucked in a breath and let himself shift farther and farther into his back. Little by little, he felt his legs float up until his toes stuck out of the water while the back of his head remained submerged. “...and then,” you continued, still holding onto his head, “spread your arms and legs like a starfish.”

A wave of panic shot through him as his eyes met yours. Were you going to let go? Was he going to—?

As if you had read his mind, you smiled and shook your head. “Don’t worry about sinking—I’ll be here to make sure nothing happens to you.”

A loose breath escaped him as the tide of panic pulled back, but it still lapped at the edge of his mind. Pursing his lips, he shut his eyes and slowly unpeeled his arms from his side, stretching them out alongside his legs. He held his breath, his heart feeling more like a trembling leaf than anything as he waited for something horrible to happen...

...and then nothing.

Peeking an eye open, he grinned, turns his head to face you with an excited shout, “I-I think I’m doing it!”

From his sideways view of you, you cheered, lifting your free arm in victory. “You are, you really are!”

All of a sudden, you suddenly flipped onto your back, stretching your own arms out until the two of you were only connected by your intertwined hands. His heart felt like it was about to take flight as he watched the sun ripple across your smiling face. “See?” you said with a cheeky glint in your gaze. “Now we’re floating together.”

Turning your head back to stare up at the sky, a sigh escaped your rosy lips as they curled up into a wistful smile. “You can’t see the sky so clearly like this under the sea,” you murmured. “It’s so much... brighter up here. And then with the sound of the waves...”

You paused, your eyes fluttering shut as you drank in the sound of the seagulls’ cries and the sea’s gentle lullaby. “Gosh,” you said breathlessly, squeezing his hand in yours. “it’s just perfect, isn’t it?”

George nodded, focused on the feeling of your palm pressed against his and his heart swelling in his chest.

“It is.”

He wasn’t looking at the sky.

To say the least, George was more than surprised when he found himself swimming as though he had been doing it his whole life just a little under a week later. He had heard that even grown people could learn to swim quickly, but he never thought that he would be one of them.

Perhaps it had something to do with the joy he felt whenever you praised him, or perhaps he was just always meant to do this. After all, he loved the sea—it was only a matter of time before he learned, right?

Either way, now that he could swim, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, now.

“You are so going to regret this.”

He grinned at you. “Maybe. But I’ll regret it even more if I never do it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sent him an amused look, mischief tugging at your lips. “And to think you couldn’t even hold your head underwater a few days ago.”

He feigned a glower at you, but he could tell by the gleam in your eyes that you weren’t buying it. “Hey! I’m just a fast learner.

You rolled your eyes at him, but the way your grin widened showed that you didn’t mean it. “Sure, sure. You act like I’m not the best swimming teacher you’ve ever had.”

He cocked a brow at you. “You’re the only swimming teacher I’ve ever had.”

You suddenly clapped your hands in front of his face, making him jump. “Anyways,” you began as you pulled your arms back with a smile, clearly trying to divert his attention, “are you ready?”

He nodded, returning your smile as excitement flowed through him. You lifted three fingers in the air and began to count down. “Three, two, one...”

George sucked in a deep breath, his lungs filling to the brim with as much air as he could manage before he squeezed his eyes and ducked his head under the waves. The world suddenly went quiet and muffled around him, the faint sound of bubbles rising filling his ears. After a second, he peeked open a single eye, then two.

He wanted to gasp at the sight.

A world of vibrant blue surrounded him, streaks of cerulean engulfing him entirely from every direction. Below him, he could barely make out the shape of a school of fish dart past, colourful branches of coral poking out from the depths. Just above, the fractured and scattered rays of sunlight swirled across the surface like a light show of its own. And just in front of him, there you were, smiling so prettily with your hands in his.

The saltwater stung his eyes, but he didn’t care. The world you lived in was beautiful—you were beautiful.

Just then, something true and warm struck him to the very core of his being, and his eyes grew wide.

Oh, he loved you, didn’t he?

He didn’t think it was even possible to fall so hard for someone so quickly, but you were special. He hadn’t been able to put a name to the sweet, lovely feeling you had stirred in him before. But looking at you now, with your eyes sparkling with mirth and surrounded by the very thing he loved most, he knew.

Love—oh, he loved you.

If only he knew how to tell you.

His chest wound tighter and tighter like a spring that was about to pop, and he quickly signalled to swim back up to you as he fervently kicked his legs. As he surfaced once more, he gasped for breath, feeling the spring deflate as his eyes burned without mercy. You surfaced a split second after him, your mouth already open as your eyes darted to his.

“That,” George gasped in between breaths, “was amazing.” He pressed a hand to his eyes, feeling the saltwater nip at the back of his eyelids like sandpaper. He winced as he did so, and in a flash, you were swimming in front of him, your hand reaching for his cheek.

“Oh gosh, your eyes,” you murmured, concern flooding your face. “Are you okay?” When your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and you immediately pulled your hand back, clutching it to your chest. He didn’t know how to tell you that that shiver was a good thing.

He shook his head, waving his other hand at you. “No, no, I’m good. Just a little—“ He winced, again. “—ow.”

George caught a glimpse of you pursing your lips before his eyes fluttered shut once more, trying to dull the sting. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you said softly, regret singeing your voice. ”I shouldn’t have let you do it.”

He turned toward the direction of your voice, rubbing the base of his palm into his eyelids. “I said I wanted to see your world,” he said, determination soaking into his words, “and I was right—it’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

He lowered his arms, his eyes opening once more to see you staring back at him. There was a certain awestruck look on your face that made him smile, a certain glimmer in your eyes that made him want to cry. “I don’t regret it one bit.”

You swam an inch closer to him, tilting your head at him as as you simpered. “Even though your eyes look like they got stung by a jellyfish?”

He nodded. “Even then—wait.” He furrowed his brows at you, his hand shooting up to brush against the rim of his eyes as he gaped. “They look like what?”

You snorted at his hanging jaw, laughter bursting from your lips and bubbling out of your throat. “They’re all red and puffy!” you managed between chuckled. He gawked at you as you flipped around, your tail splashing against the water as you giggled.

George slowly felt a smile stretch across his face as you laughed at him, your scales reflecting like tiny mirrors in the sun as your skin shone with tiny droplets of water. Your world may be beautiful, but it paled so much in comparison to you.

He felt his throat tighten as a single, dark claw scratched at the corner of his mind, dragging across the edge of his skull. You know this can’t last forever, right? it whispered into the crevices of his heart.

He chewed on his lip, his smile wavering for just a moment. I know.

He didn’t want to think about how late it was in the season, now. He didn’t want to think about how much he was going to miss your face and the spray of the ocean breeze. He didn’t want to think about how high his heart soared whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Because he knew that once summer ended, so would everything else.

“Hey, dude, what day are you going back home?”

George fiddled with the hem of his shorts, picking at a loose thread. He thought for a moment as he stared out at the sun’s fading light as it finished sinking into the sea. “Um, on... Tuesday?” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Tuesday.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Sapnap asked, “Isn’t that, like, literally tomorrow?”

George glanced over to his side, Sapnap peering over at him curiously from where he sat beside him. “Yeah.”

Sapnap sent him a sad smile, reaching over to pat his back. “We’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Clay said from his other side. George looked up, green eyes curved into small crescents meeting his. “Things aren’t quite the same without you here.”

He laughed at that, a quiet fondness trailing over him. “I’ll miss you losers, too.”

A comfortable quiet settled over the trio for a few moments. Then, Sapnap spoke up once more. “By the way,” he said, “aren’t you gonna say something to—” He gestured vaguely, his lips twitching. “—you know who?”

George’s blood ran cold. There was no way Sapnap was talking about who he thought he was talking about.

Lowering his hand to his side, he tried not to pick at his thumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said slowly, suddenly taking great interest in the soles of his shoes.

He heard Clay sigh above him, nudging him with his foot. The porch banister creaked from where he leaned against it. “George, c’mon, you don’t need to lie to us. We know you’ve been seeing someone.”

Sheer panic shot through George’s system as he whirled, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. Sapnap snorted, leaning a little closer beside him. “Seriously—it’s so obvious. You are a terrible liar.”

Suddenly, George’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around Sapnap’s wrist. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said in a panicked blur, the wheels in his head spinning out of control. “Seriously, guys, you can’t, I’m not kiddin—”

“Woah,” Sapnap cried, raising his hands in front of his chest defensively, “calm down! We have no idea what this person even looks like, okay? You can chill.” He zipped his lips, sending George a cheeky wink. “Your parents won’t hear a word from us.”

George’s heart came to a screeching halt in his chest as he processed his best friend’s. “Wait,” he said, disbelief clouding his features as his grip on Sapnap’s shirt grew loose, “you haven’t seen them?”

Clay cocked a brow at him. “No? You’re the one who literally rows out to the middle of wherever to see them.” His lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Of course we haven’t.”

George’s hand went limp and it fell to his side, “Oh. Oh.” He nearly slumped over in relief. “That’s good.”

Sapnap shifted beside him, bending over to rest his chin on his hand. “Well?” he continued, prodding once more. “Have you said anything about leaving or...?”

George’s heart dropped again, but for a different reason this time. “N-No,” he admitted quietly.

Clay sent him a quizzical look, his eyebrows knitting together. “Did you never even bring it up?” When George shook his head, he stepped away from the railing, bending down to be at eye level with him. “What? Why not? You should.”

George paused for a second, then let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, it’s just...”

Before he could stop himself, he started talking, and talking, and talking. The words just came pouring from his lips, like a free-flowing stream with no end in sight.

He spoke of how your smile would always make his day, how infectious your laugh was. He spoke of your curiosity, and just how he would give anything to see you gaze up at him in awe. He talked about how warm your hands were when you took his into your own and how he wished he could hold them all the time. He spoke of your determination to teach him how to swim, and how you actually did it. He talked about just about anything he could possibly think of when it came to you, you, you.

He spoke of just how much he was going to miss you, and how much it was going to hurt.

By the time he finished rambling, the sun had long disappeared, his face only illuminated by the lamp on his grandfather’s porch and the moon’s pale glow. His heart felt both full and empty all at once, and at his sides, Sapnap and George stared at him in silence, only the sound of chirping crickets filling the air.

“Wow,” Clay finally said after a long moment, his eyes trained on George. “That’s...”

Sapnap nodded beside him, his own eyes wide with awe. “...woah.”

George shifted uncomfortably, clenching his jaw as he tilted his head at then. “Aren’t you guys going to say anything else?”

A voice came from behind him. “I will.”

When Sapnap and Clay glanced up above his head, George whirled, his mouth opening at the figure standing before him. “Grandpa?”

His grandfather leaned against the wall of the house, smiling in that wise, worldly way that all old people always seemed to. “You, George,” he said lowly and surely, “are in love.”

George’s eyes widened, but his expression grew firm, a sense of acceptance settling deep into his bones. “I know.”

His grandfather leaned down until he was face to face with his grandson, his dark eyes meeting George’s. “You must tell them,” he murmured. “Do not just leave without saying goodbye—without being honest with yourself.” Something sad flickered across his face, but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “That’s the worst thing you could possibly do.”

George swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his side. “Okay,” he murmured, honest and true. “I will.”

His grandfather smiled and stood up straight once more before turning to Clay and Sapnap. “Now, you boys should get going. It’s late, and lord knows just how much packing George hasn’t done yet.”

Clay wheezed as George whipped his head around, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Grandpa!” he hissed.

While his friends stood, his grandfather simply sent him a brazen look and pulled the porch door open with a chuckle. George sighed as he turned back to Sapnap and Clay. “You’re so slow, George,” Sapnap teased as George got onto his feet.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you’re not a last minute packer, either.”

Clay waved his hand at them, instead opening his arms up with a fond grin. “Okay, enough with that—give us your goodbye hug, now.”

George chuckled, sinking into Clay’s arms as Sapnap wrapped around from the other side. They separated just a few moments later, Sapnap and Clay already heading down the steps back to their own homes. “See you around,” George called out after them with a wave.

He could barely make out the shape of Clay’s smile in the darkness as he shouted back. “See you around. Text us when you get home.”

Sapnap’s shout quickly followed. “And stop blocking my number!”

George laughed quietly, still waving away until he was positive they were long gone. Dropping his arm to his side, he cast his gaze up at the twinkling night sky. The moon stared back at him with pale, pleading eyes, its light reflecting off the dark ocean surface just a few yards away. Something heavy sank in his chest.

He wondered if you were looking at the stars, too.

It was barely the crack of dawn when George desperately tugged at the paddles, rowing harder than he ever had in his entire life. The sky had just begun to paint itself with splashes of orange and amethyst, but he could only focus on the knowledge that somewhere out there, you were waiting for him.

He was leaving in just a few hours, now. This was his only chance—his last chance. You needed to know, and he was going to tell you even if every fibre of his being screamed not to.

At that moment, a voice soared over the rolling waves.

“George!”

He whipped his head up, his gaze immediately finding your face in the pale, morning light. Under any other circumstances, he would never even think to leave the boat like this. But in that moment, he simply couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else but you. In a whirlwind, he dropped the paddles with a clang and found himself leaping over the boat into the water with a shout of your name.

“[Y/N]!”

The morning waves were warmer than he thought they were, and he swam through them with ease, watching as your tail flapped behind you as you met him halfway. The moment your hands met, his fingers intertwined with yours, your fitting perfectly in the spaces between his.

“George,” you murmured when you finally looked at him properly. “I missed you.” Your eyebrows knit together in worry as you scanned his face. “Is everything alright? You look... stressed.”

A pang of pure pain and anguish shot through his chest, and he felt the back of his eyes sting as he lowered his gaze. “I... I have to tell you something.”

You nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “You can tell me anything. I’m here to listen.”

The tight coil in the pit of his stomach only grew at your words. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “It’s—I, um—”

He could feel your eyes on his, concerned and heavy as he struggled to find the right words. His throat felt tight and dry, but you were the last person he wanted to be dishonest with. He had to tell you. With that, he finally let the four words he never wanted to say slip from his lips.

“I have to leave.”

Your brows furrowed, hurt and confusion shooting through your lovely gaze. “Leave?” you repeated. “Why?”

He swallowed, his heart cracking further with each passing second he spent looking at your broken expression. “I only stay here at my grandfather’s for the summer, and today, I have to go back home. I won’t be able to come back until next year.”

Your eyes slowly filled with understanding, but he could still see the layer of sadness lying just beneath. His gut churned with something hot and wet. “God, [Y/N],” he said, his voice cracking as he dipped his head in shame. He felt his eyes grow glossy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your hands tightened around his, and you shook your head, offering him a small smile. “No, no, George, don’t say that. It’s okay. I understand.”

The words were suddenly pouring out of his mouth uncontrollably, the regret rising in his chest until he was completely submerged. “I don’t want to leave you—I never want to leave you, [Y/N]. I should have told you sooner, oh, I—”

He stopped. He didn’t think he was ever going to say it, but he let his voice drop to a tiny whisper. If not now, then when?

“I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting while you took in his words. Realization flashed across your face, and almost immediately, anxiety rolled through him as he began to ramble. “I was scared to say it out loud, scared to know what you would say, and you don’t have to feel the same way, but I just wanted you to kno—”

Suddenly, you pressed a finger to his lips, and the words died in his mouth. “George,” you crooned, your warm gaze melting the ball of nerves in his chest, “oh, George.”

You lowered your hand as you smiled at him, looking like everything he could have ever dreamed of and more. “I love you, too.”

His jaw dropped, his mind going blank. You giggled at his expression, swimming even closer to him and the space between you disappearing. “Thank you for telling me. Really.” You glanced down at the waves lapping at his chest as you continued softly. “Even if you have to go, I am so grateful for the time I’ve spent with you.”

Slowly, he slipped his hand out of yours, lifting it up to hold your face. Leaning forward, he asked just for you to hear, “Can I...?”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to nod with a shy smile, your eyelids fluttering shut. Letting out one last small breath, he surged forward, your mouth meeting his in a kiss.

You tasted like sunshine, freedom, and a little bit like salt, he thought. He wasn’t sure if that last one was you or the ocean, but he found himself not caring. He was far too enraptured by the feeling of your lips on his, sweet and soft. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. After all, the ocean was a part of you, and he loved you and the ocean.

You parted with a gasp, your lips puffy and rosy. You looked ethereal in the sunrise, your eyes alight with streaks of pink and lavender. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know this is selfish of me to ask,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours, “but, could you... can you—” He gulped. “Will you wait for me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, George.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners, and a surge of affection ran through him. “I promised you I wouldn’t let go, didn’t I?”

His heart swelled to the size of the ocean and back while his thumb rubbed small circles where your waist met your tail. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said firmly. “You have my word, my heart, my everything—all of it is yours.”

You only smiled brilliantly in return. His arms snaked around your back as he pulled you close, your own arms wrapping tightly around waist as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. For a few long moments, the two of you simply stayed like that, silent but content with the feeling of your arms around each other. The waves rolled around you soothingly, your tail brushing against his legs as you simply tread in tandem with one another.

“I’ll miss you,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence as you tightened your embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I will miss you far, far more.”

Your gaze softened, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his eyes squeezing shut as you spoke. “Will you, now?” you murmured.

He lowered his head, his hot breath tickling your cheek as his gaze dropped to your lips. “Yes,” he whispered. “More than you’d know.”

And as the sun rose above the horizon, his lips met yours once more, his heart dissolving into seafoam among the waves.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, my love.

George slammed the trunk of the car, his shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh. It really was over, wasn’t it?

“You all packed to go?”

He turned at the sound of his grandfather’s voice, his lips curling upwards as he walked up to him with his eyes crinkling at the corners. Patting the back of the car, he bobbed his head. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I’m ready.”

His grandfather stopped just a foot away from him, scanning him up and down. “And,” he added, “did you say all your goodbyes?”

George‘s grin widened. While he had indeed already said goodbye to Sapnap, Clay, and you...

“Almost,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I’m just missing one.”

His grandfather’s eyes furrowed in confusion, and he opened his mouth to ask when George suddenly threw his arms around his neck, pulling him close in a tight embrace. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms back, chuckling into the hug.

“Thank you, grandpa,” George whispered into his ear, hoping he could hear the sincerity in his voice. Pulling away, a warm, sad look flitted across his face. “I’ll see you next year.”

His grandfather reached over to pat his shoulder, giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Oh, George. You have a safe trip, now.” He cast a knowing glance at the seaside. “You know I’m not the only one waiting for you to come back.”

He blinked, squinting just the tiniest bit before shaking his head, smiling to himself. His grandfather always seemed to know more than he let on, but who was he to question it?

Pulled the driver’s door open and sliding in with a grunt, his grandfather pushed it closed as he buckled the seatbelt. As he turned the key in the ignition, he sent his grandfather one last wave. Goodbye, he thought wistfully before backing up in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. In just a few moments, he was speeding down the long, winding path away from his favourite place in the whole world.

He rolled down the window with one hand as the other gripped the wheel, the ocean lying to the side. The wind whipped at his hair, the familiar sea breeze tickling his nostrils as a seagull cried out above him. Along the horizon, he could have sworn that maybe—just maybe—he caught a glimpse of a tail’s silhouette against the cerulean blue sky. He smiled to himself, his chest growing warm as he pressed down a little harder on the pedal.

George loved the ocean.

He loved the feeling of the sand squishing beneath his toes on the beach. He loved the cold tides wrapping around him like a familiar blanket as he dove into its murky depths. He loved the rocking of the boat where he sat, feeling at peace in the middle of the water.

There wasn’t anywhere else in the world where he felt so loved, so known, so understood. It would be a while until he could return to his beloved beachside. He would have to wait days, weeks, months until he could come back, but he knew he would—he had to. After all, he had given you his word.

George loved the ocean.

But most of all, he loved you.

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gamerwoo · 3 years

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[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Part Four)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, fluffy angst, Josh being a grumpy old man lmao

Word count: 2,042

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

Previous | Next | Second Chance Masterlist

Because of how exhausted he was, Joshua was in and out of consciousness for a while. He couldn’t even keep track of days because he was sleeping at weird hours -- but it had really only been two days. He never stayed awake for very long -- the longest was always just to eat and go to the bathroom if he had to, and then go back to sleep -- but the first thing his eyes always found when he opened them was you.

You, however, weren’t asleep for nearly as long. You woke up again in the morning to see Joshua was still asleep -- you didn’t know he’d ever woken up. You still had a million questions bouncing around your head about who he was, what happened next, and the like, but you decided to just go with it until you found out. No point in panicking, right?

“You should be all set to go home today,” Minjee reported.

The wolfsbane was cleansed from your system -- mostly thanks to Joshua, otherwise your recovery would’ve been slower since you didn’t heal as quickly as the werewolves -- so all you really had to do was rest until your body fully recovered. But that was the same for Joshua, so it worked out.

However, Minjee wasn’t sure what was happening when you were discharged. Would you go home with Joshua and his pack mates? Would he turn you away and have you go off on your own? Even Hansol and Kyung said they weren’t sure when Minjee had asked.

But you just nodded, not even having those thoughts cross your mind, “Okay.”

Minjee sat down on the edge of your bed and studied you, “Do you mind if I ask a few questions first?”

“Sure,” you shrugged without hesitation.

“What’s your name?”

“_____ _____.”

“And where are you from, _____?”

“The Capitol.”

Minjee’s eyebrows raised, “So you’re not too far from here, then. We’re in the Capitol -- southeast of the castle.”

Huh. You didn’t know that. That was at least convenient to be close to a familiar place. But the Capitol was huge.

“Do you have a pack or family?” Minjee continued.

You shook your head. You’d been on your own for a few years now.

“You’re alone?” she asked.

In the other room, Kyung and Hansol looked at each other.

“So then why were you running around the forest at night, _____?” Minjee continued.

You shrugged, “Got bored.”

Minjee definitely thought you were...interesting. You were all by yourself, you were running through the woods in the dark for fun, and you still somehow didn’t seem fazed by any of it. And to top it all off, you still kept glancing over at Joshua and rubbing one thumb over his knuckles like you were already comfortable with him. He was a complete stranger to you, you hadn’t even spoken to him or seen him awake, but you didn’t seem to care. You weren’t even asking her questions like she expected. It was like you didn’t care about anything, you were just rolling with whatever came.

“Hey, Jee?” a girl opened the curtain and popped her head in. She had loose springy curls that were tied into two buns on her head, brown skin, dark freckles dotted over her cheeks and nose, and golden eyes that shifted over to you. Her eyes widened slightly for some reason before returning to Minjee. “Two of our other alphas are here. They want to know what’s happening with Joshua.”

“He’ll be good to go home when he wakes up,” she replied warmly with a nod. “He’ll definitely need the help home, though.”

The foreign girl turned her head, listening to what someone else was saying to her before turning back again, “Jihoon wants to talk to you.”

“Send them right in.”

The girl stepped aside to let two men through the white curtain -- you wondered if it was actually a bedsheet. One was short with light brown hair, and the other was taller with silver hair. The shorter one had an undercut with the rest of his hair looking a little wavy, while the taller one’s hair was fluffier and parted to the side. Like the girl, they both had golden eyes that seemed to study you curiously.

Jihoon and Seungcheol assumed you must’ve been the girl they’d heard about considering your cot was still beside Joshua’s, and your hand was wrapped around his. You didn’t react to their staring, just blinking back at them. But they took note of one physical difference that Soomin either forgot to mention or simply was unaware of: instead of gold eyes, your eyes were an icy blue.

The taller one’s eyes moved over to the doctor, while the shorter one continued to blatantly stare at you. Of course, you stared back.

“Is he really well enough to come home already?” the taller boy wondered. “It’s only been two days.”

Minjee nodded, “Hansol has medicine he’ll have to take three times a day to help with pain and healing, and Joshua will have medicine to take every twelve hours. ______ will need medicine as well, but... Um, other than that, the two just need a lot of rest -- especially Joshua.”

“What about her?” the shorter one asked, nodding his head toward you.

Before Minjee could say anything, you opened your mouth, “What about me?”

Jihoon’s eyebrows raised in surprise, almost like he didn’t think you could or would talk, “...Sorry.”

“Can you guys keep it down?” a groggy, raspy voice asked beside you.

Your head whipped to the right as you felt Joshua’s fingers squeeze yours. He was rubbing one eye with his free hand and letting out a yawn before he blinked his eyes open and looked between the two alphas.

“He lives,” Seungcheol chuckled. “How do you feel, Shua?”

“Like shit,” he replied, draping his arm over his eyes.

The two alphas noticed Josh was keeping his hand in yours despite being awake. Their eyes flickered from your hands, to each other.

“What’re we talking about?” Josh asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Uh...well…” Seungcheol tried desperately to find the right words to ask what he planned to do about you, but he was too scared to bring you up to Josh. He didn’t want to upset him already.

Thankfully, Minjee spoke up, “I need to know what’s happening with _____.”

Hearing your name, you broke out of your trance of staring at Joshua now that he was finally awake, and looked at the doctor.

Joshua tore his arm away from his eyes and lifted his head slightly to narrow his eyes at Minjee, “Who?”

She gestured to you, “Your mate.”

Hearing the title made him growl lowly in his chest as he slowly turned to look at you. Despite the aggressive noise, you could hear his heartbeat pick up when his eyes landed on you. It was also the first time he was seeing you awake, and deep down, it felt amazing to see you actually alive and well.

However, he still managed to tear his hand away from yours.

“She’s not coming home with us,” he scoffed. “She’s not my problem.”

“Josh--”

“Jihoon, you can’t tell me what to do,” he cut off the alpha. “I’ll do perfectly fine on my own, thank you. I don’t want or need another mate.”

However, everyone was surprised to see that you weren’t speaking up. They looked at you and found that you didn’t even seem bothered by Joshua’s words or actions. You had lifted your now empty hand closer to your face, looking at it as if you’d see traces of Joshua or something. But your expression was neutral before you looked up at Josh and shrugged.

“Alright.”

Seungcheol blinked, “A-- Alright?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is…” Jihoon said like you were stupid.

Hey, maybe you were. You didn’t know how any of this worked. You didn’t even fully grasp what was going on.

“It’s a good thing you’re braindead, I guess,” Joshua snorted under his breath before laying his head back down.

“We’ll just...take him home now,” Seungcheol told Minjee awkwardly, bowing his head slightly in a silent apology.

“I’ll go get their medications,” the doctor replied as she stood. “You can get Hansol and Joshua ready to be discharged.”

The curtain was pushed aside so the two patients could now interact. Seungcheol and Kyung were going to have to help support Joshua as he walked at least to the edge of the forest so Seungcheol could properly carry him without getting odd looks. But Hansol was good enough to walk home on his own, and you were, too. So you got out of bed and changed back into the clothes you were in when they found you -- but now they were washed and clean.

“So..._____,” the taller alpha began just to make some sort of conversation in the awkward silence, “where are you going to go now?”

“Uh…” you trailed off before shrugging. “I don’t know, probably back to the cave.”

“Cave?” the girl repeated as the group looked at you with varying looks of surprise. “I thought you were from here?”

“I am,” you nodded, “but I don’t live here.”

“You live in a cave?” the shorter alpha checked.

You shook your head, “Well, no. Recently, I’ve been staying in a cave because I found it. Before it was just...wherever there was some sort of shelter.”

“So you don’t live anywhere?” the wolf you had yet to meet asked. He had shaggy strawberry blonde hair and stayed close to the other girl.

“I guess not.”

You were too busy going back to putting your shirt on that you didn’t notice the way the pack pointedly looked at Joshua.

As the pack was leaving and walking down the few steps -- going slowly as to be accommodating for Josh -- you followed behind them. You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself for the rest of the day since you still weren’t feeling 100%. Maybe you could just go find a place to nap or something.

The pack continued onto the path, but Joshua turned his head. He saw you still standing on the middle step, looking this way and that with a thoughtful look on your face as you held a small paper bag with your medication in it. He stopped walking, causing the two who were helping support his weight stop. So the two behind him stopped, as well. They all turned to look where he was looking, which was at you.

Joshua very loudly cleared his throat, catching your attention. He was looking at you in annoyance, and his eyes rolled when you continued to just stand there and stare at him.

“Well come on,” he snapped.

“...Huh?”

“Let’s go,” he said with more force. “I’m tired and wanna go home. If you trail behind and get caught in another net or get attacked by wild animals, that’s not my problem.”

He turned back and continued walking again, the two beside him moving with him despite them continuing to glance back at you.

Was he...inviting you home with them? But didn’t he say you weren’t going with them? So--

“You should probably hurry,” the short one -- you realized his name was Jihoon -- told you, though he had traces of a smile on his face. “He’s pretty irritable.”

“Shut up, Hoon,” Joshua called behind him.

Jihoon chuckled but continued walking.

Hansol, however, stayed back to wait for you. He understood you must’ve been a little confused. You were dying, only to wake up to a mate, members of his pack, and now you were being told one thing and then something completely opposite. So he waved you over.

“C’mon, _____,” he called with a warm smile. “We’re gonna take you home.”

Home. That sounded nice to you. It was a word you hadn’t heard or thought of in a while now. So you bounded down the steps and walked beside Hansol as he began telling you about their pack and the house.

Ahead of you, Joshua was grumbling to himself in annoyance about the whole situation.

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klaineficroulettechallenge-us · 2 years

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Chapter 9 By starpunchsoup

Wednesday, April 11

Kurt saw Blaine leaving the choir room at the end of the school day just in time to loop his arm around Blaine’s elbow. “Hey, you.”

“Hm?” Blaine acknowledged, snapping back into reality. “Oh, hey, Kurt.”

“‘Oh, hey, Kurt?’ Really?” Kurt teased but then stopped when he noticed the expression on his pretend boyfriend’s face. “What’s wrong? You seem totally out of it.”

“What? No. I’m fine.” Blaine tried to paste on a smile, but Kurt glared right through him. “Ugh, why do I bother trying to hide anything from you?” Blaine whined, half-pathetically and half-adorably. “It’s just family stuff.”

Kurt softened at that. He knew when Blaine needed some teasing to lighten the mood and when he genuinely needed a shoulder to lean on. Kurt decided right then and there to snuff out any snark in his system and be there for his best friend. “Oh? But I thought you and Cooper worked everything out before he flew back to L.A.?”

Blaine shrugged as both boys made their way out of the school building. “We did, and I’m very thankful for it. I dunno. It’s just…despite knowing why he did it, it’s not like three days of being on good terms with Coop is going to erase roughly 14 years of feeling like I’m not good at anything. It’s just kind of complicated, I guess, and I’m really confused, and everything just feels weird.”

Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “I’m really sorry everything feels so messy right now. I hope you feel better soon.” Blaine turned in Kurt’s grasp for a proper hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt’s midsection. “I know it doesn’t make the old hurt go away, but I really do think you’re incredibly talented. You’re a star, Blaine. You light up every room you’re in.” Kurt was no stranger to complimenting Blaine, but he tried to be more sincere than usual. Fake relationship or not, Blaine was clearly having a hard week, and nothing was going to stop Kurt from trying to make him smile again.

“Thank you, Kurt.” Blaine gave Kurt a tight squeeze before letting go. “I should probably head home. I’ll call you later?”

Kurt nodded, and both boys walked across the parking lot to get to their separate cars, but Kurt made sure to send out a single text to Mercedes before starting his engine.

Kurt: Call the house phone whenever you get home. I could use your help!

—*—

Kurt flopped onto his bed, the house phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Mercedes, I need ideas. Stat.”

Mercedes’ joyful laugh came through the speaker. “Damn, Kurt, you’ve got it bad! Okay. So, what is the idea here? Are you actually trying to cheer the boy up, or are you trying to put the moves on him?”

Kurt rubbed at his cheek in uncertainty. “Both? I don’t know! I definitely want to make him feel better, but I have no idea how to breach any of our feelings with him.”

Mercedes paused. “Wait, wait, wait. ‘Our’? Do you think he has feelings for you, too?”

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in place. “I don’t know. I thought we were going to kiss, like for real, just for us, at that party… But then you showed up, and neither of us have brought it up since. Not that I blame you! I just… I really don’t know where we stand.”

“Kurt! You are so oblivious. Oh, my god. Put the moves on him already! I see the way you guys look at each other; there’s no way you could fake it. He clearly loves you, too.”

Kurt could feel Mercedes’s excitement through the phone, and it was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

“But what then? Say we admit we have feelings for each other. Then what? Things with Sebastian were really bad. Still sort of are, hence why I’m using the house phone instead of my cell. Did I tell you that little creep copied my phone? Blaine already has enough on his plate. I’m not sure if he’d even be ready for a real relationship. Hell, when I initially asked him about this fake boyfriend thing, he looked like he was going to be sick. He’s been handling everything okay for now, but what if admitting my feelings makes him feel even worse?” Kurt had had all of these anxieties circling around his head for weeks now, and it felt so good to finally talk to somebody about it all.

“Hold on. Sebastian copied your phone?” Mercedes said, disgust clear in her tone.

“Yeah. I think he broke into my locker and stole the SIM card. I’m pretty sure he’s been monitoring my texts to see if me and Blaine are faking. I don’t know if that extends to phone calls, too, so I figured this would be safest.” Kurt shrugged, but he still felt so heavy with worry. “God, Mercedes, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Okay. First off? Screw Sebastian. If he wants to be obsessed with you guys, that’s his issue. Let’s work on yours for right now, okay? Blaine is feeling insecure, right? What do you think would make him feel appreciated in this moment?” Mercedes prompted, getting the gears turning in Kurt’s head.

“Um…he always likes when I bring him food! He always does that cute little bashful head bow whenever I give him something I made.” Kurt thought out loud, gently tapping his chin.

Mercedes waited a moment before she spoke again. “Kurt. I have the best idea ever.”

—*—

Giddily hanging up with Mercedes, Kurt brought out his cell phone to text Blaine.

Kurt: Hey! Are you doing anything tonight?

Kurt patiently awaited a response, not wanting to get everything prepared for tonight if Blaine couldn’t even make it.

Kurt paced his room for a moment before he decided that he should pull together an outfit while he waited. He made sure that his phone ringer was on before he walked over to his closet to rummage through his wardrobe. He had just decided on a pair of dark green jeans when he heard his phone go off.

Blaine: I don’t think so. My dad isn’t in town, so I don’t even think there’s a real plan for dinner tonight. You got something in mind?

Kurt smiled wide.

Kurt: Come over at 7:30. I have a surprise for you. :)

Kurt quickly went to work after that. He settled on his dark green jeans, a dark brown button-down, a navy vest with a matching jacket, and a long, forest green tie with metallic gold swirls; he set the clothes aside on his bed so he could cook without getting food splatters on his date outfit. Kurt didn’t have lots of time to get ready, but he was able to pull together a simple thyme and sage risotto with roasted vegetables on the side, homemade garlic bread, and a small dark chocolate and raspberry cheesecake. Kurt tried not to indulge like this too much, especially since he’d started looking after his father’s health as well, but Kurt knew that there were very few problems that dairy and carbs couldn’t fix.

“Hey, kiddo. Smells good in here,” Burt said halfway through the vegetables roasting. “I thought we were ordering pizza for dinner tonight, though; what’s all this for?”

Kurt couldn’t help his smile. “Oh, I’m throwing an impromptu date for me and Blaine tonight. His brother just went back home after a visit, and while things are good between them now, Blaine is still feeling a little upset because things with his brother weren’t always this…stable. I’m just trying to cheer him up.” Kurt kept stirring his risotto, checking that the rice was absorbing the chicken stock the way he wanted it to.

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Kurt,” his dad said, clapping a hand on his shoulder affectionately. “Have I ever told you how glad I am that you guys finally got together? You two are good for each other.”

Kurt resisted the urge to wince, considering he and Blaine weren’t actually together. Instead, he just smiled wider. “He makes me really happy,” Kurt admitted quietly.

Burt gently patted the back of Kurt’s head, making sure not to mess up his hair, and left him to his cooking.

—*—

Blaine knocked at the Hudson-Hummel house at exactly 7:30, and Kurt was fully dressed in his pre-planned outfit when he answered the door.

Blaine looked taken aback for a moment. “Wow. Hello, handsome.”

Kurt felt the blush creep high on his cheeks. “You think so? I wanted to make this special.”

Blaine smiled softly for the first time Kurt had seen that day. “Yes, I do. And you wanted to make what special?”

Kurt stepped outside, closing the front door behind him. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

Kurt took Blaine’s hand and walked around the back of the house, where the scene was set up for the two of them. Kurt had a picnic blanket spread out in the middle of the backyard, complete with a picnic basket, that was surrounded by battery-operated tealight candles so Kurt couldn’t accidentally burn his own house down. It wasn’t much, but Kurt could still see the excitement in Blaine’s eyes.

“Kurt? What’s all this?” Blaine asked incredulously.

“It’s an ‘I-Hate-Seeing-My-Fake-Boyfriend-Be-Actually-Sad’ picnic!” Kurt explained as he walked over to the blanket to kick his shoes off.

Blaine followed suit, a small, disbelieving smile still painted his face. “Kurt. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

Kurt opened up the basket, bringing items out to finish setting the scene. A half-full pitcher of lemonade from his fridge, serving spoons, glassware, the whole nine yards. Kurt was going to be up until one a.m. doing the dishes, but seeing Blaine’s smile made it all worth it to him. “Of course, I did.” Kurt held out a plastic champagne flute for Blaine. “You said yourself you didn’t have any dinner plans.”

Blaine grabbed the glass from Kurt but kept it tilted towards him so they could clink their glasses together. “You are absolutely incredible.”

Kurt shrugged, ignoring the way he could literally feel his face heat up. “You were having a bad day. You should be appreciated more, so…here I am, appreciating you.”

Kurt swore he could see a blush appear on Blaine’s face, too. “Well, thank you. This all smells delicious, by the way.”

The two boys ate in comfortable silence for most of the meal, not feeling the need to add anything on to the moment. Once most of the food was consumed, they packed everything back in the basket and laid down on the blanket to look at the stars. It was a fairly clear night, and the best part about living in a small area of Ohio was that there were no big airports or traffic to cause light pollution.

“I don’t know the last time I just sat and looked at the stars,” Blaine stated quietly. “My grandpa used to take me out with this big old telescope to point out constellations, but that was years ago.”

“Do you remember any of them?” Kurt asked while he turned his head to glance at Blaine. His muscled arms were relaxed above his head, his hands supported the back of his skull, and there was a look of tranquility on his face that Kurt hadn’t seen in a while.

Blaine moved his head a little bit to free his right arm so he could point. “Well, that’s Orion’s belt. I’m pretty sure they’re connected to the rest of Orion, but I don’t remember the shape of it,” Blaine said with a self-conscious laugh. “Um…next to him is Gemini, your star sign, but that one kind of gets lost on me, too. Like, I can see their hands holding, but not much else.”

“Still, you know more than I do. And why aren’t I surprised that you know my zodiac?” Kurt teased, nudging Blaine’s shoulder with his own.

“It’s just a thing I do! I know the whole Glee Club’s zodiacs just because I have their birthdays written down. It’s not like I have anybody’s whole birth charts memorized,” Blaine defends, but he smiled when he talked, so Kurt hoped he wasn’t actually upset at being called an astrology bitch.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Kurt teased further, earning another shoulder check from Blaine. Kurt shoved him back, and Blaine decided to play dirty by leaning over to ruffle Kurt’s hair.

Kurt almost said something snarky, but his words got caught in his throat when he looked into Blaine’s eyes. Blaine, strong and kind and handsome Blaine, half leaning over Kurt and half laying down next to him. Blaine, the only thing Kurt could see in that moment.

“I think my dad is watching. You should kiss me,” Kurt lied, barely above a whisper.

Blaine didn’t even look at the house behind him before he leaned in. Blaine’s lips were soft against Kurt’s, and there was very little pressure behind it. Tentative almost. Kurt took in a deep breath through his nose and leaned up a little bit to get closer. Grabbing the back of Blaine’s head with one arm and lifting himself up with the other, Kurt almost couldn’t believe it. He knew he’d set up this big romantic picnic for Blaine to make him feel cherished and special, but still. He didn’t think the night was going to end with him kissing Blaine, tenderly and sweetly. Cherished.

Blaine pulled away slowly after a few moments, lightly biting his bottom lip. “It’s, um… It’s getting late. I should probably go before my mom starts to worry. But all of this…” Blaine gestured vaguely around him, his eyes quickly looking over Kurt one more time. “All of this was amazing. Thank you.”

Kurt still felt a little breathless, but he managed a smile before he found his voice again (Did he always sound so airy when talking to Blaine?). “Anytime.”

Kurt helped Blaine up from the blanket so the boys could make their way towards Blaine’s car. Blaine gave Kurt a hug goodbye, but alas, not a second kiss. Kurt wasn’t surprised or even hurt by the gesture, but he would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t hopeful for another one.

Waving goodbye to Blaine, Kurt decided right then and there that speaking his feelings was out of the question. Kurt felt like he’d made as big of a move as he could, and unless Blaine was going to initiate the conversation, Kurt wasn’t going to cross any more lines. Blaine’s comfort and presence in Kurt’s life was what mattered most, and Kurt didn’t want to do anything else that might jeopardize that.

Blaine Anderson, the ball is in your court. Please don’t leave me waiting much longer.

Note from GleefulDarrenCrissFan: I intended to post this earlier today, but I have not been feeling well. To make up for it, I', posting a chapter today and tomorrow. The next chapter is by Esperanto. After this, only 6 more chapters. Also, I have a new story coming out on Saturday called Perfectly Imperfect. Don't forget to comment. We love hearing from you all.

#The Prom-us #the prom-us #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic roulette- the prom-us #the prom us #klaine fanfic #the promus #signal boost

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut.

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now.

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement.

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers.

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area.

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away.

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights.

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand.

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two.

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split.

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first?

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you?

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure.

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty.

What does someone do in a situation like this?

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all.

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you.

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months.

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home.

And everything is numb.

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind.

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go...

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface.

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious.

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all.

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date.

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s.

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery…

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date?

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long.

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl?

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji.

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center.

You stare at it.

One reminder of him and you were already weary.

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind.

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour.

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But...

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well.

Nothing more, nothing less.

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair.

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair.

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away.

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside.

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him.

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top.

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad.

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun.

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye.

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.”

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused.

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years.

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation.

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.”

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him.

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu.

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.”

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm.

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!”

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin.

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words.

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time.

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words.

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens.

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well.

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete.

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more.

You hear mentions of many boys’ names.

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks.

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe.

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation.

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s?

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.”

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet.

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little.

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone.

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this?

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date.

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something.

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself.

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming.

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter.

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #osamu miya #osamu #miya twins #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #untouchable series #it's been awhile since i've updated #but i hope u can enjoy it!!!

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Repercussions (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha seeks to define her relationship with you and strengthens her friendship with Wanda.

Warnings: dark themes, stalking (let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: I originally had a completely different plan for this part but I changed the storyline a bit as I was writing and I’m so happy with the finished product. I hope you are too and I’m excited to hear your thoughts!

Previous part

Once inside your room, Natasha felt the peace return to her mind and body. The more time spent with you, the harder it became to leave you, and she feared a time when she wouldn’t be able to leave you at all. She hated the dependency and urgency that came with falling for you, welcoming it in the same breath because you were special. In what way, she wasn’t sure yet.

You were shivering slightly in your sleep, and she ran the tips of her fingers along your bare legs to see you react to her touch. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled the blanket over you, climbing in bed next to you. Her head fell back onto the pillow while wrapping her arm around your waist, her hand occasionally moving to stroke your thigh as she attempted to match your breathing. Part of her was impatient, wanting to experience sleeping next to you every night for the rest of her life. It was too soon, though. All the pieces weren’t in place yet.

A phone call announced itself by loud ringing, and Natasha let out a string of curses when she realized it was coming from her pocket. She fumbled for the phone and answered, shushing Wanda as she waited with rigid muscles for your reaction. She breathed a sigh of relief when all you did was squirm a bit under the weight of her arm, light snores continuing.

“What’s up, Wan?” she quickly whispered, bracing herself for questions.

“I was going to ask where you were but I think I know now. Hot date?”

“You could definitely say that,” she breathed as her hand trailed over your body once more. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She hung up and slid the phone back into her pocket, reaching over to kiss your temple before pulling away and leaving the bed altogether. She left the way she entered, fixing the curtains, closing the window and replacing the screen all in under a minute. She was home in a short amount of time as well, and a sigh left her when she spotted Wanda waiting on her bed.

“Am I going to get a lecture about something?”

“No.” Wanda released a sigh of her own as she waited for Natasha to sit next to her. “I just worry. I’ve never seen you this enamored with anyone and I don’t want her to take you down a path you can’t return from.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Y/N is just special, and I don’t think it’s fair that I have to share her with other people. She’s the first person I’ve ever met that I could truly see myself falling in love with, no consequences whatsoever. I don’t think it’s a crime to want to protect that.”

“Then I want to help.” She pulled out a large silver ring holding a few keys. “May or may not have manipulated Tony into giving me these. He has a house upstate with a pretty amazing security system and a lot of privacy. I can set it up for you while you work on building your relationship.”

Natasha examined the keys with a frown, holding it as she looked up again. “Not that I don’t appreciate your willingness to help, but what changed your mind? You seemed to disagree with my plans at first.”

“Well I may have done a little stalking of my own.” Natasha’s eyes widened and Wanda responded with a sheepish grin. “This morning I kind of made another trip to the bookstore while Y/N was working there, and her thoughts were full of you the whole time. I think the two of you could have something beautiful together.”

“I knew you were my best friend for a reason.” A laugh escapes both of them as Natasha throws her arms around the grinning woman, pulling away after a few moments and lying next to her on the bed. “I love you, Wan.”

“Love you too, Tash. Now tell me your whole plan.”

In all of your years of existing, you’d never had such a dry feeling in your throat upon waking up. You wanted to blame it on an almost hangover, but you only had one glass of red, right? Besides, there was no headache, just the discomfort of the sunshine in your eyes.

Wait, sunshine.

Your head popped up from the pillow as you realized you hadn’t heard your alarm, and you quickly rolled over to grab your phone from the bedside table. A loud groan echoed into the room when you realized you never placed it on the charger last night and the battery died. The groan was followed by a gasp when your screen came on and revealed the time.

“Shit!” You paused in your movement of getting up when missed calls and a text appeared from the store owner.

Couldn’t reach you, so I got Ron to cover your shift. Hope everything’s alright!

You went to the contact to press the call button with shaky fingers. You knew your boss was understanding, but you hated disappointing anyone, especially someone you worked for.

“Hey!” you spoke as soon as the phone was answered, tone full of the guilt that coursed through you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t show! I forgot to charge my phone and it died, so I ended up sleeping well past my alarm time.”

“It’s okay, you clearly needed the rest! I’m just glad that you’re alright. See you in a few days!”

“Okay, see you then. Sorry again!” you quickly added before hanging up and placing the phone back on the table with a frustrated huff. You ran your hands over your face as you slouched forward, sighing again when your phone rang and quickly answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning, printsessa.”

You straightened from your defeated position, a smile appearing almost instantly at the sound of the warm and inviting voice on the other end.

“Nat, hi! Good morning to you too.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting you at work.”

“No.” You let out another one of those tired sighs that seemed to be second nature today. “I slept through my alarm and missed most of my shift. I’m just now waking up.”

“Did your manager give you a hard time?”

You frowned a bit at the hard edge that seemed to suddenly frame her tone, shaking your head and suddenly remembering she couldn’t see you.

“No, nothing like that. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“That’s good!” The sweetness returned. “So why do you sound so down, then?”

“I just hate letting anyone down, but especially my boss. They’re always so kind and understanding and I don’t want them to think I’m taking advantage of that.” You laughed a bit as you flopped back onto your pillows. “Sorry, I have a tendency to beat myself up with things.”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“Really? Even someone as perfect as you messes up sometimes?”

“Of course not.” You laughed again, a little louder this time. “You know, I could send a car to bring you here to spend the day and maybe the night with me. How does that sound?”

“Any time with you sounds amazing. Give me an hour to get clean and packed!”

You both exchanged warm goodbyes and you continued to lie there with a wide grin as you saved her number in your phone. You decided against facing the sunlight and instead turned the other way to get up and get ready, just missing the strand of red hair on the pillow beside you.

The car that arrived for you had tinted windows and a divider between the front and back seats, and you were met with a deep grunt in response to your warm greeting after climbing in. You watched the city life pass by on your way to the Avengers tower, smiling when you caught a glimpse of Natasha outside of the building as you arrived. She took your bag and grabbed your hand with her free one, all with a smile and adoring eyes.

“I see you made it here in one piece.”

“I did, thank you. Are all of your drivers that grumpy?”

Her head turned to look behind you as you walked toward the entrance, eyes lingering for a moment before returning her gaze ahead of her.

“Just the one.” She led you inside the elevator and freed a finger to press the button to her private floor. “I have a nice lunch prepared for us. It’s takeout from a restaurant, so I wouldn’t run the risk of killing you with my cooking.”

“I appreciate that,” you chuckled, squeezing her hand slightly. “But you know, I don’t mind showing you a few things in the kitchen.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.” She leaned in to quickly peck your lips, dragging you out of the elevator and toward a table set up with covered meals and wine glasses. “Don’t touch anything until I get back!”

You sat down in one of the chairs, admiring the spacious dining area while you waited for Natasha to drop your bag off in her room. When she returned, grins appeared on your faces as you met eyes again, holding the gaze as she began to pour the wine. You were pleasantly surprised when the plates were uncovered and you realized it was your favorite meal from one of the first places you fell in love with after moving to New York.

“How did you know?”

“It’s my job to know.” She laughed. “I also may have made a guess based on what you ordered last night. Speaking of last night, I just want to say that it was the best date I’ve ever been on, and I would love to pursue something more serious with you. If that’s what you want too, of course.”

“I do,” you told her without a moment of hesitation, knowing that you felt the same way about last night. “In the short amount of time that I’ve spent with you, I’ve felt warmer and lighter than any other previous romantic experience, and I’m curious to see where this goes.”

“Same here.” She leaned across the table and you met her in the middle, smiling through the kiss until you pulled away, and she held her wine glass out to you. “To the beginning of something amazing.”

“To the beginning of something amazing.”

The two of you ate in a silence occasionally filled with light banter and echoing laughter, nearing the end of your meal when the elevator dinged and footsteps were heard in the hallway.

“Tash, where are--oh.”

“Wanda, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my best friend Wanda, who will probably hug you as she greets you.”

“Only if you don’t mind,” Wanda clarified with a sheepish grin, to which you responded with a laugh.

“No worries, I don’t mind!”

You dropped your fork and stood up, smiling just as widely as the cheerful Avenger that approached you, bright eyes holding a bit of a red tint. Her arms went around you as yours neared her torso, and suddenly everything went dark.

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @fayhar @muted-stoneheart @witchxaf @sakurat123 @bebe404 @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @trikruismybitch @darkangelxoxo @becka107

#dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #the avengers #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x you #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel imagine

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Fôret de Cauchemars (M)

Pairing: sleep psychiatrist kim namjoon x reader

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Plagued by nightmares of your boyfriend’s death, you turn to sleep psychiatrist Kim Namjoon for help. What you find in him is condolence in your isolated world, a ray of sunlight breaking through gaps of rotting leaves. What you find in him is a dream, a beautiful dream, until that dream shatters to reveal the true nightmare underneath. Sometimes, nightmares seamlessly blend into reality, and, unfortunately, waking up simply won’t make them go away anymore.

Warnings: Yandere themes, death, murder, mature themes (bondage, cunnilingus, unprotected sex), smut, violence, kidnapping, self-loathing, psychological disorders, manipulation, mentions of suicide, gore

A/N: Finally back with a fic in a...month? Sorry for the delay; the work load of classes this year has been a real bonk to the vibes, but hopefully testing out a oneshot fic will get me back in the writing energy. Happy fall, and maybe (just maybe) we’ll vibe it up with a new spooky series featuring our beloved yandere bangtan boys! Dedicated to Namjoon’s birthday (although it’s been weeks), and hopefully Jungkook’s birthday fic will be up next. Unfortunately, this means next release of Lineage might not be until October/early November, but I hope you guys stick around!

You didn’t quite know when the nightmares began.

They were unconscious little pricks of fear, the kind that crawled under your skin into your skull and left you with a cold sweat and rapid heartbeat. You always forgot them when you woke up, but their influence was engraved into your bones and etched in every sleep-deprived jolt of paranoia and every accusatory glance you threw to your empty surroundings. You felt eyes on you, even though the remnants of your fading rationality knew that there was nothing there.

Each night filled with the conflict of battling off your body’s desire to sleep left you even more exhausted and even more terrified of some nameless entity that your sleepless mind had conjured up.

The nightmares did not stop. They refused to stop; you knew you needed to solve it somehow. That brought you to the moment of now, in the present, across from a sleep psychiatrist in an office with an air condition system that blew cold gusts of air against the back of your neck and left bumps of goosebumps rising up on your skin.

You curled in on yourself, picking at the ends of your sleeves until the threads became loose, as the sound of rustling paper flipping between your sleep psychiatrist’s fingers filled up the gaps of your sleep-deprived mind. You tentatively threw a glance at the man across from you.

If you weren’t nearly irrational from the lack of sleep, you would’ve been able to truly appreciate how handsome the man was. He was the kind of handsome that artists drew portraits and sculpted of and poets waxed long pages of sonnets about. With smoky gray hair slicked back, eyes curved elegantly behind silver-rimmed glasses, and a sharp mouth set back in a firm expression, Dr. Kim was the type of beautiful that you found in every sharp edge of an icicle.

However, it was unnerving how familiar you felt with his beauty.

“(Y/n) (L/n), correct?’’

His voice, a baritone that encased the chilly office air, drew you back into your blurry reality. You heard a soft click as he turned on his stopwatch. The soft ticking noise reverberated in the still room, just a tinge louder than the blast of the air conditioning. You nodded your head mutely before reaching up to rub at your sore, burning eyes.

“Yes…,” you fought back a yawn, and your words slurred a bit as tears prickled your eyes,” Sorry…’m jus’ tired.”

His gaze, previously neutral, softened a bit more at your pitiful state.

“Though it is currently difficult right now, we’ll work through any psychological stressors that may be causing your nightmares. When did the nightmares begin?’’

You blinked owlishly at him—well, you were more like a raccoon than an owl with how severe your dark circles were, though that was a jab of humor your dwindling mind allowed you on only rare occasions—as you tried to register his words.

“Hmm,’’ you rolled your shoulders back, and a dull ache throbbed through your body as you stretched it,” I don’t…really remember. I don’t remember a lot of things now. Can’t even remember what I did yesterday… Maybe…a couple months ago? They weren’t…weren’t as bad as they are now, so I didn’t really pay attention to them.”

“Have you tried any over the counter sleep medications?’’

You scratched your neck.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Tried a few, but the nightmares didn’t seem to go away. Woke up…,” you shook yourself as if to demonstrate,” cold sweat and everything after a bit. Nightmares came right away, which is weird cause I don’t think I’m even asleep long enough to enter REM.”

“We’ll try a stronger prescription to see if it’ll help you sleep better. Has there been any troubling situations lately? Some time before the nightmares started, right when they started, or even ongoing ones?’’

You blinked again, your eyelids scraping against your dry eyes.

“Hmm…Someone, uh, passed away… My boyfriend? Maybe these nightmares are about losing him, but I dunno…can’t remember them.”

“Would you like to talk more about this?’’ Though his tone was more gentle, Dr. Kim had a look in his eyes that seemed even more chilling than the artificially generated wind against your skin.

You didn’t pay attention. It took you a lot more effort to pay attention to things nowadays and noticing tiny almost unnoticeable things was even more difficult.

“Yeah…It was tough that time. He disappeared, and they found his body. Said he killed himself, but, uh,’’ you tugged even harder on the loose threads, your eyes glued to them,’’ I didn’t even notice the signs…”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?’’

You blinked once and then twice and then thrice. You could not look at Dr. Kim, but there was a strange shift in the air. Maybe it was a delusional mix of emotions and sleep deprivation. Maybe it was something more. You settled on the former.

The next words came out a bit more choked than you wanted them to. You thought you might’ve cried if you weren’t already so mentally and physically exhausted.

“Yeah…I was his girlfriend. Shoulda seen the signs, but I was busy, and we were drifting apart…,” you bitterly mumbled,” No excuse, though. I have no excuses…”

A silence settled between the two of you. You felt like you had just bored some piece that you had crammed in your soul so tight that it drifted into your thoughts like a second poison. You were so tired; you wanted to tuck yourself into the leather chair and fall asleep to avoid how vulnerable you felt. You noticed him level his steady gaze on you.

“No one can see the signs. People are good at hiding the worst things affecting them, even from those they care for deeply and who care for them deeply. You can’t continue to blame yourself for events in the past that cannot be changed and let that blame affect the you of the present and the future. (Y/n), the first way to conquer your nightmares is to forgive yourself.”

For the first time in the meeting, you raised your gaze to meet Dr. Kim’s gaze straight on. Your eyes, vulnerable and holding onto a devastatingly deep sorrow, were surprised to see that the look in Dr. Kim’s eyes was not as pulled together as his words were. But maybe, as you unconsciously tugged on another thread so hard that it yanked out of your sweater sleeve and drifted to your lap, that was just another one of your delusions.

Dr. Kim’s words resonated throughout your mind on your commute home. They bore a weight on your mind as you slowly shuffled throughout the rest of your day, and they rang even stronger as you laid in bed.

When you closed your eyes, you felt yourself drifting off into the land of unconsciousness. You were running in a forest, clumps of dead grass, rotting leaves, and mud staining the soles of your feet, and your breath gusted out in sharp white puffs of air. The dew of the forest left a sheen on your skin as the wind brushing against your body chilled you to the bone. Underneath the whistle of the wind, you could hear the sound of something ticking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Something grabbed your ankle, sending you sprawling to the forest floor, and you threw a frantic glance at what had yanked you down. Tears built in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You were trying to push yourself off the floor to keep running, but the branches and roots of the trees of the forest broke out from the floor and wrapped tight around your trembling form, pinning your quaking body to the muddy ground.

You saw a glimpse of a hand and part of an arm extending itself from the forest floor, dirt crusted under the fingernails and staining the crevices of the palm. The forest floor opened up, dirt jaggedly fragmenting and cracking open, as the body behind the hand emerged. You watched, petrified from your spot to the floor. The head pushed out from the forest floor first, and your eyes made contact with the sunken eyes of your dead boyfriend. You were screaming now, your voice hoarse, but no sound coming out. The ticking sound grew louder and louder, and you were crying even harder.

He was so pale that the moonlight trickled through his almost translucent skin, a corpse that dragged itself to the land of the living, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. There was a sticky glint to the side of his head where his hair looked more clumped. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it.

“Why…Why did you leave me behind?’’ his voice was like a haunting croak. You could speak now, and your voice pitched into a petrified scream.

“I didn’t mean to…! I didn’t mean to! You told me to run! You told me to run!’’ your voice broke out of your throat, and it grew and grew in an unruly crescendo. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve never left you behi-“

You drew in a sharp inhale that suffocated you, leaving the last words still on your lips as you woke up in your bed. The chill of the forest left you; you were in your bed again, the sheets and blanket messily wrapped around your body. You had been thrashing in your sleep, sending pillows down onto the floor. The room was still dark, just a few moments before dawn. You got up, the cold sweat on your body leaving you breathless, and you blindly reached down to grab your pillows and throw them back onto your bed. Instead of touching the slippery silk covers of your pillows, your fingers met something soft and cuddly.

Your fingers wrapped around a tiny, stuffed arm, and you pulled up what the item was.

A scream tore out of your lips as you threw away the item. It was the stuffed bunny your boyfriend had given you the night of your first anniversary, the last night you had seen your boyfriend before he had pushed you to keep running; this was the very item you had dropped in your run out of the forest. You had left it there.

Why, why was it here?

Your head was hurting, and you dropped the plush animal back onto the ground. You hadn’t noticed the faint blood stains. Its faux fur was too dark for you to make out the splashes of dried brown red.

No, no, what do you mean you left it there? You never went in a forest. Your boyfriend overdosed. They found his body. You weren’t there; you were at home working— You sagged against your bed as your head pounded in throbbing agony.

No, you were here. You were here, waiting for him. It was your first anniversary. He was late. He never came home. You had gotten angry and had called him several times. And then…And then, you got the phone call the next morning that they found his dead body. He killed himself. You forcibly repeated that until it was ingrained in your head, and your breathing slowed down.

The next time you woke up, the sun was blindingly warm against your face, but the nightmare had already left your body cold long before.

You were seated across from Dr. Kim again. The dark circles were even worse today, and you fought back a yawn as he clicked his pen and pressed the tip against the pristine white of his notepad. You watched through watery eyes as your name elegantly swirled out in ink on the notepad.

“I’ve been sleeping the most I’ve ever had in a while, so, uh…Hah, would that even qualify as a perk?’’ you smiled weakly,” And I can remember my nightmares now, though that in itself is exhausting me more than the nights before the remembering ever could.”

His pen stopped right at the second curve of your name. He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor still as composed as ever. He was listening. He was the only one who would listen to you now. Well, you suppose he was the only one who listened because you were paying him for each second of his time.

“That’s good to hear. Remembering your nightmares can help us continue to identify and potentially reduce the impact of your psychological stressor. Continue to talk about them. What do you see?’’

“Uh,’’ you yawned this time, your yawn so big that it cracked your jaw and filled your eyes with tears,’’ They’re a little vague.’’

“It’s okay. You’ve made progress.”

“Mmm…if you say so.’’ You scratched your wrist, your gaze on the skin,” Well…I’m in a forest. Super scary. I think it’s the one they found my boyfriend in. And I’m running. And, uh, a hand comes out and grabs my ankle, and I try to break free…but…but I can’t, the trees are coming and they’re wrapping so tight…I can’t breathe.”

Your words sped up, and you didn’t know you were choking on your own breath until you let out a strangled cough at the last word.

“Keep on going.”

“And I—,’’ you’re tearing up now, sobbing slightly as you force the next words out through ragged breaths,” I look over, and it’s him! It’s him! He’s there! He’s climbing out…and he’s asking me why. Why! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!’’

Your voice heightened in its pitch, and you were just a whisper below a full-on yell. Your shoulders shook, trembling as the tears spilled out and splashed against your cheeks and dripped down your chin, and you were curling further into yourself as you fought to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Kim was out of his chair, his hands stroking your shoulder gently, and he was soothing you. He was holding you now. You buried your head into the collar of his shirt, staining the cloth with tears and snot.

This wasn’t professional, but Dr. Kim made no move to get away, and you didn’t care that you were probably violating some doctor-patient code of conduct rule. It had been so long since someone held you and stroked your back so kindly.

When you finally broke away from the hug to look at Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim brushed the drying tears off of your cheek, his finger glistening with your tears. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. This was wrong. Not only professionally, but your boyfriend…You couldn’t move on from him. But you couldn’t push away the only hand that was willing to dry your tears.

You somehow managed to look at him, your cheeks feeling hot, and you shakily whispered,” I’m…I’m sorry.”

Who were you apologizing to? Dr. Kim for having a mental breakdown, though his job in the very first place was to help you with mental breakdowns? Your dead boyfriend, who was rotting away 6 feet under for finding solace in another man? Or you, poor innocent you who had suffered so much?

He tenderly smiled at you, the warm look strange compared to his usual stony expression but oh so comforting.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s normal.” He cleared his throat, his expression turning cold again, and he was back in his leather chair.

Somehow, although the two of you had resumed as if was normal, you knew something had changed. Maybe it was when his arms were wrapped around your trembling form, his touch warming up your freezing body, or maybe it was the very moment you had sat down on the sofa across from him just a few minutes ago.

Or maybe, maybe something was different between the two of you all along.

You had the same nightmare again that very night. Well, it was not like it ever really changed, not when your psychological state of mind seemed to seek its purpose in rattling every single nerve in your poor body. But something seemed even more worse than usual in your dream.

The scent of mildew was the same, damply settling on the back of your tongue and in your throat, and you could smell something rotting underneath the sickly-sweet scent. However, that wasn’t what was off in your dream.

You weren’t running for the first time. No rapid breath escaped you; your chest rose and fell in even beats. That was your first indication that something was terribly wrong.

What a horrible irony bestowed upon you.

Your fears were confirmed when you heard something small and thin and sharp snap underfoot, and you turned slowly. Your mouth fell open in horror at the sight.

There was a skeleton, one with ivory bones that gleamed underneath the waxy moonlight, and something told you that that skeleton was your boyfriend. Your gaze darted to what made that terrible crackling sound: a foot clad in a leather shoe against the delicate bone wrist of your boyfriend’s postmortem state. Your eyes trailed up and up and up until they settled onto the face of the perpetrator.

“Dr. Kim?’’ the dream you, despite the roaring screams of your thoughts, smiled a coquettish one that stretched almost painfully on your face. You took steps forward, the mud staining your bare feet, and you felt bone snap and crackle and crumble underneath your weight as you got closer and closer, and Dr. Kim laughed as he swept you up in his arms and left a loving kiss on your lips.

“My beloved,’’ his hands trailed to your waist. You felt the bone underneath your feet turn into a mass of bloody flesh and bone. There was a streak of red carnage on Dr. Kim’s face that you hadn’t noticed before,” Oh, how I adore you.”

“Dr. Kim,’’ you whispered playfully into the side of his neck,” Dr. Kim, touch me.”

His fingertips brushed underneath your skirt, toying with the fabric of your panties, and you let out a breathy sigh of laughter as you opened your legs further. A squelch of flesh and blood underneath the soles of your feet accompanied your movement. As you looked up, your eyes tenderly swept his face and took in his features.

His handsome features, his strong jaw and his softly curved lips and the indents in his cheeks dappled underneath the romantic pale moonlight peeking through the trees, looked absolutely maniacal. His voice was amused, and it swathed the crisp air of the forest in a breathy husk that left you shivering in both pleasure and thrill.

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for all along, my beloved.”

You woke up with a start. Your pajamas were sticking to your body in a feverish sweat, and you pushed yourself up and off the bed. Your body was unused to the sudden movement, and your legs froze, sending you to a tumble to the floor.

“What the,” you stayed there on the floor, unable to move. Your breath was heightened and came out in shallow pants through your dry lips. “What the absolute fuck?’’

When you finally managed to get off the floor and onto shaky legs that trembled to hold your weight, your first action was to call the office and cancel your upcoming appointment with Dr. Kim. You didn’t mind the large fee that came from this cancellation; even the thought of seeing him after what had transpired between the two of you in both reality and the imaginary world left you disgusted with yourself. You could feel the aching throb in between your legs, a neediness still settled in your veins, and the wet spot you left on your pantie. Bile rose up in your throat as your mind engulfed in self-loathing.

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your bed. It bounced off and landed by your feet on the carpet. You swallowed a shriek of ragged frustration before getting up in quick desperate movements. The uncomfortable drag of the fabric of your panties seemed to remind you only more of your shame. You felt dirty.

You needed to be clean.

You stepped into the tub, turned on the faucet, and silently stood there as the shower sprayed cold water onto your still-clothed body. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Looking back, you wondered to yourself, what were you even sorry for? Wouldn’t it have been better to be sorry for yourself?

Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended the way it did if you had done that instead. But you’ll never know now. It was too late.

The echo of the clock ticking seemed to sound over the rush of cold water. Each click and swing brushed against the other, softly like the wind that brushed through the leaves and the branches and the trees and by the roots that bounded your feet to the dirt.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

You couldn’t keep cancelling your appointments.

Some part of you didn’t want to. You hated that part of you. But it was ingrained in you. Some part of you was addicted to Dr. Kim, addicted to the way he had tenderly held you, to the way his fingers had felt against the soft skin of your cheek as he wiped away acrid tears.

You were sitting across from him again. The soft, almost inaudible but painfully audible to you ticking of his wristwatch echoed in the silent room. There was no notepad in his hands again, nor rustling of paper forms between slender fingers to fill up the tension in the room; there was only his gaze rested on you. You couldn’t breathe.

You were yanking on the threads of your sweater again. The threads, loosened, snagged on your nails, and you dropped the soft material with a mental huff of displeasure. The setting of the sun outside of the window drowned the both of you in a peaceful warm orange hue…but you knew: there’s nothing peaceful going on. Not in your heart, not in the crevices of the office, not in the way Dr. Kim coolly smiled at you as if nothing was wrong…Nothing was peaceful.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” If you thought too hard into it, you might have perceived his words as accusatory. But he was just your psychiatrist. There was no way he was going to cross the professional boundary between the two of you. The first time was already a mistake.

Or was it?

“How are you?’’ his words sent a thrill down your spine.

You looked at him through your lashes. You couldn’t seem to think properly when he was so near you. The smell of his cologne, musky and rich, settled in your throat.

“I’m,’’ you swallowed thickly before ducking your head back down,” I’m fine.’’

“Are you really?’’

Those words seemed to break you down.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,’’ the heaviness of your voice gave the truth right away, and you were sobbing. The you of before, the you back in the past when you were better, had hated crying, but something about being in this office, with the air conditioning blasting heavily at the nape of your neck and the thought of Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim left you glued to the seat in tears.

You sucked in a shaky breath, fiercely wiping away tears with your sleeves until your skin stung; you didn’t even notice the tissue box that Dr. Kim picked up and placed by you. He was closer to you now, sitting next to you on the couch in his office, and you leaned in closer to him. You felt him stroke your hair, comforting. You melted into his warmth.

“I’m s-…sorry,’’ you stammered out,’’ It’s just…It’s just I’m feeling guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?’’ his voice, deeper than usual, brushed hotly against your ear, and you shivered. Was it the air-conditioning that chilled you to the bone, or was it something else?

Ironically, despite the icy feeling in your gut, you could feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you swore there must’ve been some hint of a flush that gave away the rapid pit-pattering of your heart. The guilt swelled and crashed in your chest with every thump.

“I’m guilty because…because!’’ the words dried up in your throat, and you clenched your eyes shut as you forced them out through trembling lips,” I shouldn’t be viewing someone else like this.”

“Like what?’’

“In the way I viewed my boyfriend…I’m—,’’ you swallowed thickly.

“Who do you view this way?’’ The gentle stroking of your hair halted, and you peeked open your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, though, and your eyes fell back down to your lap.

“Y-,’’ you sucked in a breath,’’ You, Dr. Kim.”

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of his stopwatch drew your attention, and you stared at it breathlessly as you waited for his reply.

He didn’t reply right away, and your heartbeat spiked painfully in your chest. You made a move to stand up, a torrid heat swelling up in your face as tears of embarrassment and guilt and shame pricked your eyes, and you pushed away from him.

“I-I should leave. I’ll cancel my appoint—,’’ your remaining words squeezed out in a surprised gasp as Dr. Kim’s hand encircled your wrist and pulled you to him.

His lips were against yours, the kiss bitingly rough, and you let out a surprised moan as you felt his hand cradle the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He sucked your breath right out of your lungs, and you meekly realized that you were drooling slightly out of the corner of your mouth as he probed his tongue through your lips and against the warm crevices of your mouth. He sucked on your tongue, and you made a soft startled mmph against his lips.

“Dr.—Dr. Kim!’’ you managed to place a trembling hand between the small gap between his chest and yours—you briefly admired the feeling of the muscles of his clothed chest against the palm of your hand—and pried your lips from his. Your eyes had watered in a wanton surprise; you looked like sin itself with the way you trembled and quaked and breathed shakily through swollen lips, a trail of saliva glinting on the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Kim, what—what are you doing?’’

“What do you think I’m doing?’’ his lips curved in an attractive teasing smile that caused shivers to roll down your spine,” Is it a sin to view you the same way you view me?’’

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth. No further words of protest managed to come out.

Laughter, rough and hoarse, rumbled in his throat as he took off his jacket and loosened the tie around his white collared shirt. The setting sun cast shadows and made him look almost sinister. His voice was like a purr as he spoke.

“Then we’ll sin together. On your hands and knees.”

Some part of you trembled as you heard his voice. His voice was alluring, the way it wrapped around you and dragged you, limp and terrified, into a daze. You were flat on the palms of your hands and your knees before you knew it.

You felt his hands, cool and slightly rough, against the heated flesh of your exposed thighs, and they dragged up to your skirt and pushed it higher up around your waist, leaving only the exposed fabric of your soaked panties behind.

“Dr—Mmph!’’ you were about to question him, but the drag of his finger as it peeled away the flimsy string of your panties left you shivering in bliss. You made another move to question it; you tried your best. Your arms trembled, struggling to hold yourself up, as you felt his tongue drag against the outer folds of your pussy, and then he was devouring you.

His tongue brushed and stroked against your swollen clitoris, and you made a muffled moan through clenched teeth at the spine-tingling touch. And he was shoving his tongue deep into your walls; your walls shivered and quaked and trembled and tightened around his tongue, and you heard him grunt a muffled curse before you were coming.

Your toes curled, your eyes rolled back, and your arms collapsed, sending you careening into the plush arm of the sofa.

You tried to recover, but Dr. Kim didn’t let you recover. He pushed the fabric of your panties further down, and you made a muffled sound of protest as you felt something hot and hard against your sensitive pussy.

You were panting, breathless little whimpers leaving your lips. You were so sensitive; you couldn’t handle anymore. But he was already pushing his cock in.

“Dr. Kim, I’m so…,’’ you sobbed out, your hair a mess. You made a move to twist around, but he grabbed your wrists and, using the tie he had pulled out from around his neck, tied them together. You could only press your face, breathing out high-pitched gasps and moans, against the soft arm of the sofa as he pushed deeper and deeper into you.

The sensation was almost burning the way your walls stretched around his big cock. Oh god, he was bigger than your boyfriend, and you hadn’t fucked anyone since his death. You were tearing up, ready to open your mouth and tell him to stop it, when his cock finally was fully in. It felt like it was pressing against your womb with how deep it was. You made a choked cry.

“Dr. Kim…Dr.—Oh!’’ you keened in pleasure as he pulled out, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, and then pushed back in fully. He set an unforgivable pace, his hands firmly placed on your hips, and you swore you were getting fabric burns from the rough way the pace of his thrusts sent you crashing again and against into the sofa. Your tits bounced, and he grabbed one of them with a hand, stroking the clothed hard nipple with his finger. “Please…Please slow…Mmm! S-slow…slow down!’’

He didn’t slow down. If anything, it seemed like he sped up instead. You could feel your wrists getting red from the tie, but you didn’t care. You were getting so close to your next orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first orgasm, and Dr. Kim’s cock was dragging against your walls just right. You were so, so, so close.

“Dr. Kim!” you squealed out as your walls squeezed around his thrusting cock, and your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched hard down on him. He didn’t even pause, continuing to fuck you even through your orgasm. “Dr…Nngh! Dr. Kim…!’’

You were drooling again as he continued to pound into you, your sensitive pussy trembling fervently around him. You couldn’t think, not when his cock was rearranging your insides, and you could only shiver as he chased his own orgasm with your wet pussy.

He was pounding against your cervix, the sensation leaving little pricks in the nerves underneath your skin, and then you felt him twitch. You realized, with heightened panic, that he wasn’t wearing a condom and made a panicked move to stop him, but he was filling you with hot cum and your eyes were rolling back as you reached another orgasm. He pulled out, his cum staining the bare skin of your ass, and you felt his cum ooze out slightly from your walls.

You twitched, your ass still up and your arms sore from being pinned to your back. You couldn’t move. Not when your brain couldn’t even form coherent thoughts, and you were left spent.

“With the way you haven’t moved,’’ his voice lowered to a predatory tone,’’ Fuck, you make me so hard.”

He was hard again; you could feel it against your sensitive walls before he slammed back into you. You couldn’t even make a sound of protest, not when he had already fucked you thoroughly, before he was fucking you again. You heard the sound of his hips colliding into your ass, the sinful clap of skin together and the squelch of your juices around his invading cock and the rough drag of the fabric of his pants against your flushed skin. You were making panting noises, too tired to even moan. Your cheek rubbed against the sofa as he knocked against your quivering womb with each thrust.

His thrusts were as animalistic as the first time. He fucked you like he was stealing a part of his soul. He fucked you like he craved your existence. He fucked you as if you were his. And you took it, falling into the next orgasm and whimpering as he came again, quicker this time. He was filling you up, marking you from the inside out, and you… you could only moan as he did so.

He pulled out this time, and you couldn’t even hold yourself up. Your thighs trembled, the inner skin of them coated in an obscene mixture of his cum and your juices, and you clumsily fell to the sofa. You were drifting off, your eyelids closing, and you were, for the first time in a long, dissolving in bliss.

He draped his coat over your sticky body, and you felt him stroke your hair again. His touch was gentle, so gentle. Your eyes drooped further shut.

“Did he fuck you like I did? Make you more like the whore you are?’’ his voice was low, but you could hear it. When it came to him, you could always hear him. But you were too tired. You wanted to sleep. Maybe if you slept by him, the nightmares wouldn’t come.

He chuckled at your lack of response, smoothing the strands of your hair down, and you heard the faint sound of his ticking watch. If you looked closely, through half-lidded eyes, you could make out small scratches and a single crack on the watch’s glass.

“Good night, my beloved.” His voice was like a hum. You…you remembered that. You knew that voice long before you ever sat in front of Dr. Kim. Some part of you screamed, but that part was weaker, blurred by the calming strokes of his hand over your hair and the sweet daze of sleep that kissed your eyelids shut.

You were dreaming again. It was a nightmare. You were in the woods again, the wind in your hair, and you were laughing at a joke your boyfriend said. He gave you the stuffed animal, pretty and soft and comforting, and you were giggling in delight as you hugged it to your chest.

“Babe, I love—,’’ the words died in your throat as a gunshot cracked through the crisp forest night. You were screaming now, the previous words of your love confession dying in your chest as ragged yells dragged out of your throat. He fell down, fearful-stained eyes growing glassy, and you felt a splatter of blood against your hands that stained the stuffed animal you were cradling. You were sobbing, your hands trembling as you reached out to try to touch his paling face. His lips shivered as they made one final desperate yell.

“Run!’’

You turned on your heels and made a run for it. You broke through trees and branches whipped at your fast as you ran and ran and…A hand grabbed your hair and slammed you against the tree so hard you were left winded, and you were screaming madly in grief and fear and outright hysteria as you lashed out.

“Why are you after us? Why us? Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him? WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?’’

Your fingers snagged a watch, leaving scratches on the wrist of the perpetrator, and you yanked it off the wrist in the midst of your struggle. You kicked out, frantic and desperate, and the moonlight of the night hit the perpetrator.

Dr. Kim’s face glowed underneath the waning light, his handsome features twisted in a mad glee as you thrashed and thrashed, and he was laughing through a choked breath even when your foot crashed into his rib and sent him sprawling to the forest floor.

You didn’t even wait to turn on your heel, and you were running again.

“Good night, my beloved.’’

You heard him laughing in the distance after he spoke, the sound rough and coarse and haunting, and there was that ticking again resonating from his watch still drowning in the forest floor’s mixture of mud and branches and rotting leaves.

Tick, tick, tick.

You saw the edge of the forest, the blinding light of the lamppost flickering in the distance, and your foot caught on a root protruding from the dark ground. You crashed into the ground.

You fought to get up, but the mud was soft underneath your thrashing body, and you were sinking into it. It swallowed your feet and your hands first, and you were sobbing in hysteria as it began to swallow up until your neck, and you were choking on mud as you drowned in it.

Flashes of Dr. Kim’s face flickered through your mind. His cold face, the warmth in his eyes as he wiped off your tears, the hunger in his expression as he devoured your lips, and…and his face twisted like a maniac as he dragged you against the forest tree and mockingly laughed at your struggle. He was going to finish you next, he was going to love you, he was going to break you, he was going to hold you, and he was…he was obsessed with you.

The mud filled your lungs, and you stopped coughing, stopped trying, stopped fighting. Your lips twisted in a content smile as you closed your eyes and went limp.

A/N: Leave a comment/review if you enjoyed the fic (or tell me if I made a mistake anywhere. Always a bit nerve-wracking copy and pasting from the word document I use to write). Sending my love to all of you for your support, as always!

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years

Text

utopic desire finale — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks.

A week passed since Belle closed the curtains on Jungkook but she still remembered how flooded his eyes got when she broke their ties. However loose and frail they were, it left a stain in her memory that didn’t seem to wipe off easily.

The sky faded into a deeper shade of purple welcoming mid evening. Belle walked through the campus courtyard to her car, books hugged to her chest tight like a shield. It became a habit whenever she felt it getting dark and she was walking alone. As she came close to her Centenario, her heart dropped noticing a group of boys hanging around it and laughing to one another.

Belle took a deep breath and kept padding casually to her car until one of them turned her head to face her. She felt her stomach twist when recognition smacked her like a brick. Jung Hoseok standing near the passengers’ door caressing the top of it with his eyes flashing red. “Can I please get into my car?”

Hoseok scoffed as loud as he could muster erupting more chuckles from the group. “You expect me to believe this is your car?” His gaze flickered up and down her body in both judgement and slight interest.

“It was a gift.” She mumbled.

“Ah…” He nodded. “…yes you’re Min and Park’s fuck toy.”

“They’re my friends.”

“Of course they are, sweetheart.” Hoseok gave her a mocking pout while more snickers echoed in the air. “I also heard you’re Jeon slut now too, aren’t you?” He began to take a few steps forward.

Belle stayed frozen in her tracks, stomach lurching and twisting as she tried to figure out what to do. “We don’t know each other.”

“Right…” A wide, toothy smirk spread across his lips. “It’s funny ‘cause he told me—you had the tastiest blood he ever tried.” Hoseok leaned forward and took a faint whiff, humming a little in delight when he found something very sweet lingering in his nostrils. “Kind of want to see if that theory is true.”

“Please…” She finally started backing away, running back to Taehyung’s dorm or calling someone but Hoseok kept walking forward. “Please leave me alone.”

“I will.” The pure blood nodded still moving closer and closer until he completely towered over the girl. “As soon as I get a little bite.” Hoseok leaned into her without hesitation, mouth parted and fangs baring.

Belle didn’t know what else to do. She could have ran but he would be just as fast as her. So she raised her hard cover book and swung it across his face. A thud echoed in her ears as Hoseok groaned and fell back against the side of the car. Eyes widened when she noticed the blood trickling down his nose. “Stay away from me.” She tried to warn with the hardest voice she could possibly muster until her tongue clipped when the group began surrounding her.

“You’re gonna pay for that, breedling.” Hoseok growled, pupils completely red as his fangs were still bared. He snarled at the girl and lunged forward but was harshly tugged back causing the group to scatter.

Before Belle could gather her bearings and blink away her blurry tears, a figure towered over Hoseok with his back facing the girl. She would have expected the group to fight back against him but they only backed away further looking a little worried.

Vision finally cleared and her heart jumped seeing familiar dark curls and a raspy voice laced with pure fury.

“I could squash you on this pavement right now and no one would blink twice.” Jungkooks’ deep crimson pupils burned into Hoseok’s battered face. “Don’t ever touch her again.” He gripped onto the male’s collars, nails ripping into the fabric as he pulled him back on his feet despite his light stumbling.

Hoseok spat blood out on Jungkook’s shoe with a clear grimace on his bruised and cut face, eyes almost permanently red. “Your father will hear about this, Jeon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw, body still burning with so much anger he wished he could throw more punches to relieve himself. “Get out of my sight.” He seethed.

Nothing but a sharp glare shot towards Belle, Hoseok walked away down the pavement with the group following him like little puppies.

He turned around and walked over to Belle examining her for any injuries. Expression softened so quickly when he focused on her movements. “Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

“I’m fine.” Belle muttered, shaking her head. “Why did you do that? He’s going to tell your father, he’s—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Jungkook replied simply giving her a weak smile. “I promise. Just go home.”

“Jungkook—”

“Go home, be safe.” The pure blood muttered before walking the same direction as Hoseok and his group leaving Belle in a deep pool of confusion and concern.

I’ll take care of it.

How?

Five days went by and Jungkook was nowhere to be found on campus. Even when Belle tried to peek at the groups Vira or Hoseok were in, he wasn’t there. Not in class. Not in the courtyard or even in the bars. He was gone. She hated counting how many days but it was officially the sixth day and Jungkook still wasn’t in campus.

“Why are you looking so sad these past few days?” Jimin asked breaking her out of another trance. He forgot all about his assignment to notice the girl’s face looking blank for long minutes at a time before freezing on her readings.

Belle shifted in her seat with a significant pout on her lips. “I’m not sad.”

“Concerned then? About what?”

“I—” She sighed in defeat. “I’m just worried about Jungkook.”

Jimin’s face hardened almost immediately as he glared down at his assignment.

“See that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No, it’s fine. Look he didn’t attend a few days of school.” He shrugged, scratching a few doodles on the corner of his paper. “It’s no big deal.”

“Jimin…”

“What?”

“He beat Hoseok up.”

A silence spread between them that made Belle uncomfortable. Usually she would expect a jab about how Hoseok deserved it or the two pure bloods were just having a dick sizing competition of some sort. Unfortunately when she searched Jimin’s expression, she saw reluctance and the same concern she saw in the mirror for the past few days.

“Why did–why would he do that?” Jimin leaned forward resting his elbows on the table.

Belle gulped down lowering her gaze for a moment. “He—he tried to feed on me.” When she met the original’s gaze, she immediately noticed the long fade to pitch black as his face hardened again.

“You never told us.”

“Then you’d kill him.”

“He would’ve deserved it.” He spat, the full black hue of his eyes unable to wipe away.

Belle reached out and held onto his tightened fist hoping to ease him somehow. “Nothing happened to me.”

“What if Jungkook didn’t come around? You really think Hoseok was going to just feed on you once?” Jimin winced feeling his breathing growing heavy and ragged. “Fuck, Belle he could’ve—”

“He didn’t.” She emphasized the words as sharply as possible even though the original didn’t look like he was going to let Hoseok live after this new knowledge. Not that Belle cared much about the ordeal. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Jungkook protected me in front of them…Hoseok told him that he was going to tell his father. A-and then Jungkook told me he was going to take care of it.” The more Belle voiced what happened that day, the more her stomach began to lurch again so harshly she couldn’t even look at her iced coffee without feeling nauseous.

“We’re usually the exception to protect you but—Jungkook’s father is not a tolerant man.” Jimin shook his head.

Dread travelled up to the middle of her ribcages squeezing into a tight ball as Belle let out a shaky breath. “You don’t think—” She almost winced. “You don’t think he’s being punished, right? For—for me?”

Jimin took a deep, drawling breath finally opening his fist and holding onto the girls’ hand. This time attempting to give her some comfort. “I can’t say for sure.” He spoke honestly. “But whatever happens…it’s not your fault, alright? I know Jungkook won’t want you to blame yourself for his decision.”

“Why are you talking like he’s not going to come back?” Belle pressed her quivering lips together, tears burning at the brim of her eyes like a dam had been shattered behind them.

“I love you…so I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Pure bloods and originals don’t have to go to universities or schools, they just do it for their own enjoyment.” Jimin sighed. “If I know our culture accurately, he might be forced to stay at his apartment for a few months until he is welcomed back to the mansion.” He held onto her hand as firmly as he could to ensure she didn’t pull away but tried not to hurt her skin. “Then he’d have to train there until he’s ready to run the Jeon’s respective community.”

Belle hung her head slightly, sighing. “Is that the whole punishment?”

“I really can’t say, Belle. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry too, she tells herself as an possibly dangerous decision passed her mind.

Deep in the dead of night, a Lamborghini Centenario parks in front of the luxury apartment buildings specifically for well off vampire students. They usually tried to keep humans and vampires separate unless humans don’t really care or prefer it that way. Belle turned the car off and padded quietly towards the apartment room number she got from Yoongi who ‘convinced’ Hoseok to blurt it out.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Belle asked.

Yoongi scoffed with a bitter smile. “I fucking wanted to…but Kiku promised me something in exchange for keeping him alive.”

“What kind—”

“Don’t ask.” Jimin shook his head with a grimace. “I did…don’t do what I did.”

“When you have someone, you’ll understand the appeal.” Yoongi pointed at the younger male.

Up the elevator to room 418, Belle stood in front of the door observing the numbers for a moment. She hadn’t truly prepared on what to say coming this far. If he even was still here. What would the punishment have been? Would Jungkook’s father really hate the lower classes so much that he would hurt his son for protecting them?

Letting out a detached sigh fingers curled into a loose fist and rapped on the wooden door a few times. Feet continuously shifting from one side to the other to shake off the anxiety bubbling up from her toes to her head. She really shouldn’t be here. If anyone saw her walking around and recognized who she was, Jungkook might get into more trouble. Before she could think more into it however, shuffling sounded from the other side and the door opened.

Hair tousled and curlier than ever, eyes slightly bloodshot and his lips extremely pouty with his torso completely bare like he had just come out of a nap. Jungkooks’ brows were furrowed when he tried to see who disturbed him but immediately his expression softened.

“Belle?” Jungkook peeked out of the door to see if anyone else was with her before gently guiding her inside and closing it behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Belle winced lightly. “You can’t just break the rules like that and disappear for days on end without a single warning.”

He peered through his fringe noticing how much she was shifting around on the spot. “Were you worried about me?” Jungkook walked closer away from the now locked door.

“Well I’m not horrible.” She folded her arms over her chest. “You helped me. Even though you were going to get punished for it. I thought—” Belle sighed averting her gaze to look at the couch setting on her right. “I thought you were gone.”

“But you didn’t want us to see each other anymore.” He shook his head despite the light warmth spreading through his belly. “Why were you concerned about me?”

“Just because I told you we can’t see each other doesn’t mean I wanted it.” Belle turned to look at her left this time, eyes stopping on the things resting on the dining table. Her brows furrowed when she recognized the gauze and antiseptics with towels soaking red tinged water.

Jungkook stammered rushing over to the table. “Sorry I was just—”

Whatever kept squeezing in her chest from time to time now tumbled down into a dark abyss, endless and terrifying. Belle’s gaze paused on Jungkook’s back as her fingers began to tremble from a dangerous brew of dread and anger. Deep red lashes broken his skin in different directions, some of them still freshly bleeding while others were taking their time to heal.

“Jungkook…” She whispered in a light sob. Belle walked over to the male who tried to face her with his torso again so she wouldn’t see but she wanted to. Somehow a part of her felt like it was her responsibility to see. See what happened to people who protected her. Holding onto his arm, Belle gently turned him around again and her features contorted, tears burning in her eyes as her shaky hands hovered over the angry markings. “I’m sorry…I-I’m sorry, why did—why didn’t y-you walk away?”

“Walk a—Belle, he was going to hurt you!” Jungkook argued, wincing turned to meet her teary gaze.

“I can take hurt when it’s directed to me!” She sobbed out. “This…I-I don’t want other people getting h-hurt ‘cause of me.”

“You could’ve been at any level of the system, Belle. I’d still beat the living shits out of anyone who hurts you.”

“If I was in any other part of the system, you wouldn’t be punished.”

He wanted to keep fighting off as much as he could. To remind her that people should still rise up and protect people in need no matter where they stand in some kind of messed up system tradition created. “It’s done now, okay?” Jungkook softened his voice, reaching out and cupping her cheek so she could look at him instead of the lashes. “Besides I should be saying sorry.”

Belle didn’t hesitate to shake her head. “No—”

“I do. I don’t fucking know why I couldn’t say it at the yacht but I’m sorry.” He brushes his fingers gently through her hair. “You’re not an abomination, you’re not dirty, not even close.” Jungkook closed their distance a little more, relishing in the heat radiating from her body again after staying away from it far too long. “You’re so fucking warm and sweet.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I love being around you.”

She tried so hard to respond with the words swirling in her head but they all faded into short, trembling breaths as tears trickled down her cheeks. Something lifted from the abyss back up to her chest, bursting with flowers and butterflies as they soared across her body.

“You know how I told you that the yacht made me feel free?” The corner of his lips curled up a little.

“Mhm…” Belle sniffled.

“The moment you walked into it was I felt free.” He curled his fingers around a few of her hair strands reminding himself that this wasn’t some sick dream from the wooziness. “When you left, I felt trapped again.”

Belle nudged her nose against his, a small smile creeping on her quivering lips. “Feed on me again.” She muttered in a low voice barely audible but it caught Jungkook’s attention with barely any effort.

“What?”

“I want you to feel free.” She whispered. “It’ll help you heal completely if you feed on me.”

Jungkook pulled his head away to meet her gaze properly. “Blood doesn’t work. They laced the whips with something…makes it harder to heal.”

“They gave you human blood. A few years ago I gave Yoongi some of mine in a bottle and it healed his wound from a silver bullet.” Belle wiped the stray tears away from her jawline. “I didn’t tell him it was mine at first but it works—Jimin explained that original vampire healing powers mixed in with the human immune system creates these…really potent cells in the blood.”

“Belle, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t…take from you.” He still thought about the first time he did it. How selfish he was to just take from the girl knowing she couldn’t really blurt it out to anyone. “I did it once and I—treated you like nothing, I just indulged.”

“It’s not taking, I’m giving.” She reached out and gave his bottom lip a featherlight brush from her fingers. “I—I liked it when you fed on me.”

Jungkook wanted to relish in her soft fingers for a moment, pursing them to almost resemble a kiss. Then her words threw him over the edge and brought him back to reality. “You what?”

Belle gulped down before lowering her head and putting her fingers down. “It made me really excited.” She admitted shyly. “I en-I enjoy it when it hurts a little.” Her cheeks ignited with a deep heat that didn’t seem to cool over any time soon. Anything to ensure Jungkook was convinced it wasn’t wrong to feed from her if she consented and liked it.

“You enjoy pain.” His own voice and words swirled in his mind like a potent drug as the heat from her body coated the air around them. Jungkook leaned in to brush his nose against her hair when she had her head lowered in adorable shyness. Her sweet, thick scent floating and filling his lungs to the brim where he could almost taste it on his tongue like honey.

Her hands absentmindedly pressed against his stomach gently, feeling his skin on her warm palms. “Only when you do it.” Belle had to close her eyes, allowing her body to succumb to the heat and the satisfying heaviness forming in her lower belly. “No one else.”

Whatever wall they tried to build between them practically melted as Jungkook placed his fingers on the underside of her chin to lift her head. Leaning in, he pressed a warm kiss on her lips, cupping her cheek firmly to push her into him deeper. Tongue pushed through Belle’s teeth, exploring every inch of her mouth taking whatever remanence of her taste he could get almost selfishly.

Belle let a hum into the kiss sliding her hands up his torso to his rising chest, fingers tracing his collarbones as their tongues danced against one another in messy but beautiful sync. She felt him pull away from the kiss, immediately moving his lips down to her jawline, licking down her neck to find the best spot.

Jungkook nibbled on one particular area, kissing and licking it making sure Belle felt as comfortable and loose as possible. Then his fangs bared sinking into the soft skin. His ear pricked when he heard a small gasp. But feeling her hand grip at his roots and gently push him further in, Jungkook didn’t hesitate to let the warm, sweet liquid touch his tongue and travel down his throat.

A growl emitted under his breath vibrating on her skin as he drank in more, gulping it down with such enthusiasm. Head spinning with bliss and the ache on his back fading away completely.

“Kook…” She whispered, tugging at his roots a little.

Pressing his tongue flat against the wound, he closed the intrusions up in seconds before moving to press his forehead on her hers again. Breathing heavy and ragged but his whole body felt a thousand times better now compared to the past five days.

Belle moved away from his grasp even though the male tried to tighten his hold on her. She peeked at his back and let out a sigh of relief seeing only blood stains on healed skin. “It worked.” She walked towards the towels in the bowl of water and wrung the cleanest one before moving to Jungkook’s back again.

Despite the injuries completely healed, she still carefully cleaned the leftover blood stains until all she could see was his glistening bare skin. “Does it feel better?”

“Much better.” Jungkook murmured turning around and taking the towel off her to put back on the table. As his strength reeled back to him, he took her lips again, hands trailing down her chest and slowly unbuttoning her cardigan.

She shrugged off the thin clothing letting it fall to the ground before wrapping her arms around his neck. Distance closed between them, bodies pressed taut against each other as their tongues began their dance. Belle felt his fingers grip at the hem of her dress. “Take it off.” She requested in a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to pull the dress over her head, smiling at her hair completely covering her face. He brushed away her soft locks before kissing her again.

Belle moved her hands at his hips, pushing down his sweat pants letting them pool around his ankles before he kicked them away. She felt him walk forward forcing them to stumble and hit a wall behind her, soft moans jolting out of them. Unclipping her bra from the front, she pulled it off along with the other clothes scattered across the floor.

Jungkook’s lips travelled down to her neck, nibbling until he could see blood rushing to the surface forming a gorgeous redness to the skin. Kissing the valley of her beautiful breasts, middle of her ribcages right down to her clothed more, knees rested on the floor for her. He pressed a hand over the slightly soggy clothing with a smile tugging at his lips. “You really like being fed on, don’t you?”

Belle let out a mixture of a whine and a giggle, hips swaying against his hands lightly brushing against her throbbing clit. “Only when it’s you.”

“Good.” He hooked at the hem of her panties, pulling down to her ankles slowly letting her walk out of them before sliding them away. Jungkook pushed her legs apart just enough for him to lean in and taking her clit between his lips.

Letting out a shaky sigh, her fingers came up to bury themselves in his hair watching him move his head up and down. Toes curled in against the wood. Hips jerked a little into his mouth trying to get more friction from his tongue. Though the action earned her a firm slap on her bottom, her walls clenched around nothing, inner thighs glistening with wetness. “Do it again.”

Jungkook pulled away from her core with an excited smirk brightening his features. Standing up, he turned Belle around.

Cheek pressed against the wall, Jungkook kept one of his hands on the back of her head to keep her still.

Belle let out a breathy giggle, curling her back so her ass poked out in front of him.

Jungkook caressed her soft peach with his free hand. Kneading the soft flesh before giving his first swing. Palm slammed on her delicate skin, light blush forming a few seconds after.

She gasped at the first impact. Fingers curled against the wooden wall, trying to shift but the grip on her hair prevented her from doing so. Another slap came down making her ass jiggle.

Jungkook moved his fingers down to her sodden entrance, pushing in two digits carefully and curling down to find the rough spot inside her. The sweet scent so thick and intoxicating as it mixed with arousal and sweat. The more she moaned, the faster his fingers thrusted into her, faster and harder until he could feel her juices sputtered out on his hand. “You’re so hot, baby.” He leaned in and pressed a hot kiss on her shoulder blade.

Belle hummed in delight at his words before immediately whining when he felt his fingers pulled out of her. In a second, another harsh slap hit her ass again. Over and over. Jungkook’s drenched digits leaving remnants of her arousal on her blushing skin. Slap. Slap. Slap. Entrance drooled and dripped down her inner thighs. Slap. Slap. His fingers pulled at her roots just enough for her eyes to close. Slap.

It looked like a beautiful work of art seeing the deepening red marks on her skin, raw and fresh. Jungkook traced a finger over the darkest patch hearing a light hiss from the girl. He pulled his hand away and turned her back around again, raising one of her legs up to hook under her thigh. Wrapping another hand around his aching member he gave it a few slow strokes before positioning it at her leaking slit. Jungkook pushed through her with ease, walls hugging and clenching around him with such enthusiasm he could come done right there and then.

Ruby encrusted eyes fixated on how focused Jungkook looked when he moved inside her. As if getting all that he wanted but being careful to give her pleasure at the same time. Belle cupped his cheek, gasping a little as he slowly slid in and out of her, steady thrusts hitting deep, brushing against her sweet spot. With a light smile tugging at her lips she brushed her thumb across his knitted forehead.

Her core completely swallowed every inch of his length causing a groan to vibrate in his throat. Jungkook kept with his steady thrusts, flickering his gaze up to Belle as her lips parted allowing more choked moans to pass through her. “Feels good?” He breathed out, noses nudging against each other as they trembled where they stood.

Belle nodded frantically, another whimper stopping at the roof of her mouth. “So good.” She felt her leg aching a little as it pressed down against the floor while other was still locked under his arm. “Go harder…” Her voice came out in a faint whisper against his lips.

Jungkook’s eyes faded into a deep crimson red. Not a flash but complete transformation, growing darker and darker as her words sunk in. He hooked her other leg under his arm and dug his fingers into her hips until he could feel her bones. In mere seconds, Jungkook began his onslaught of thrusts slamming her back down harshly while the room filled with her pleasured cries.

Every time she was pushed down, Belle could feel him hitting the soft walls of her cervix sending her over the edge. Toes curled into themselves tightly as her fingers gripped at his hair, messily kissing his upper lip before she was bounced up and down again. The impact caused a sting on her reddened bottom as her throbbing clit rubbed against his lower belly. The tight ball coiled beyond its control, so ready to come undone every time his tip slammed deep inside her. “’m c-close…” She whimpered.

Despite the curdling heat ready to rush to his tip at her words, Jungkook pulled out of her smirking at the pleading cry she uttered. “Not yet.” He loosened his death grip on her hips soothing the dented skin before carrying them over to the bedroom.

Jungkook laid her down on all fours, placing one of the pillows under her hips not bothering to turn the lights on and leaving the moonlight from the windows to shine through. It didn’t take a second before he noticed Belle slowly grinding on the soft pillow to gain some of the lost build-up back. He swung another slap across her beautiful bruised peach, relishing in how she whimpered so desperately.

Knees sunk into the soft surface of the bed as he wrapped one hand around her neck, bending it back so she could look up at him. An ache tugged at the back of her neck from the stretch but it immediately drowned into a tremble of pleasure, his length filling her sloppy pussy once again, twitching for more. Belle whimpered, ragged breathing hitting Jungkooks’ face like a waft of fresh air. He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss against her puffy lips.

“You like being held down, don’t you, sweetheart?” The vampire growled into the kiss, hips pressing tight against hers so she could feel every inch of his length deep inside her. “Fucked like a hungry little animal in heat.”

Belle hissed in response, trying to swivel her hips but her knees were so far apart she could barely move. Her mind melting into a submissive state. Allowing the senior vampire to do as he pleased in his own pace. Sweat drizzled all over their writhing bodies, a few beads dropped from the ends of Jungkooks’ raven curls softly landing on her cheek.

The room was dark but couldn’t match the pitch black taint of lust in his orbs. “I asked you a question, kitten.” Jungkooks’ voice rasped. Pulling his hips back down, he applied full force to slam it back against her raw, reddened ass coaxing a shaky cry from her.

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as the ache from her neck further mixed in with the impact against her g-spot. The insane mixture of pain and pleasure made her shake, both in anticipation and desperation. “Ye-Yes—Yes…”

“Yes what?” He whispered but it still exuded the most delicious amount of power. Enough for it to crawl under her skin and further her lust fueled insanity.

“I—” Belle tried to take a few breaths. “I like—” A hazy smile tugged at her lips, staring up at him. “—getting fucked—like an animal…”

“Good girl.” With that praise, he pulled his cock out until only the tip filled her. A light hum emitted under his breath feeling Belle clench desperately around it. When she clenched tight enough Jungkook pushed it back in relishing in her sweet whimper. “Good girl.” He whispered again softly as he slammed inside her again. And again. He began his onslaught of thrusts releasing her neck from the lock.

Belle felt a slight relief from the back of her neck as he fucked into her, skin slapping against her raw ass. She dropped down to rest her cheek against the pillow as the heaviness in her belly coiled, tightening so hard that her head began to spin. The bed creaked a little, headboard hitting the wall at every thrust.

Jungkook dipped down, burying his head into her shoulder as his thrusts grew sloppy as he felt her walls pulsing around him. “I can feel you cumming, sweetheart.” He whispered with an intoxicated smirk against her skin as he reached one hand in between the pillow and her core, roughly rubbing her clit. “Let it out.”

Fingers gripped the sheets so hard, it pulled out from where it was tucked. Heat coating her aura closing on her as the only thing she could utter were a string of pleasure infused cries. Her entrance burned, coil tearing up at the seams until it completely burst, juices sputtering out of her in a soft sprinkle soaking Jungkook’s hands and the sheets underneath them. Belle’s legs trembled trying to close but her knees were still so far apart.

He moaned in excited desperation feeling how much her release spewed out of her before the heat rushed to his tip. Heaviness inside him emptying and spilling into the beauty as burning ecstasy spread through his veins. Jungkook kissed her shoulder softly, pulling out of her carefully before pulling her legs so she could lie on her stomach in a more relaxed way. “You did so good, baby.” He brushed her hair away to kiss her cheek. “You’re not an animal.” Jungkook whispered against her skin as he moved down her back, staining the words on it so she could always remember. Even if she didn’t, he could spend more nights constantly reminding her. “You’re a blessing.”

Belle let out a small, breathy chuckle despite the tears brimming at her eyes from how warm her belly felt at his words. She reached behind her and weakly brushed through his hair where she could catch it before feeling him kiss her fingers.

“I’m gonna clean you up then we can sleep, okay?” Jungkook soothed over the reddened patches on her bottom trying not to rub too hard.

“Okay.” She sniffled lightly, a smile almost permanently plastered across her lips.

Grabbing a wet cloth, Jungkook wiped the excess from her body before helping her get out of bed to the bathroom. A quick lukewarm shower involving the two stealing kisses from one another as their chuckles echoed against the tiled walls. He draped her in one of his T-shirts and some comfortable shorts before they walked back to the bedroom to change the sheets.

Finally they were settled under fresh blankets with Belle resting her head on his chest and nuzzling her nose against his jawline. Pleased hums emitting from under her breath as Jungkook’s traced up and down her arm.

“Say it again.” Belle murmured in such a tiny voice, he almost didn’t catch it.

“What?”

She kept her gaze on his bare chest, tracing circles on his left breast. “That thing you said before.” Her voice kept dwindling down in her shyness. Cheeks burning a little as she snuggled more into him.

“Blessing.” Jungkook smiled up at the ceiling feeling her body warm up so beautifully coating them in comfort. “You’re a blessing.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “Want me to say it again?”

Belle giggled completely hiding her face in his chest making Jungkook chuckle. “No…it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Thank you too.”

“Why me?” She looked up to meet his gaze.

“You came to see me.” Jungkook grinned, moving his hand from her arm to her cheek brushing his fingers against her warm skin. “No one’s visited me ever since that day. You were the only one who checked on me.”

Belle’s heart dropped thinking about the few days Jungkook had to tolerate and treat his injuries alone without the help of any of his ‘friends’. The moment he was seen going against the system, they all walked away without a second thought. “I’ll always come and check on you then.” She wrapped an arm around his torso as an attempt to hug him. “All the time.”

Jungkook fully embraced her with a light giggle under his breath. “Or you could just stay here.”

She grinned to herself. “Or I could stay here.”

“My blessing.” He whispered one last time before they drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Morning broke in warm and comforting as Belle snuggled into the soft surface of the bed. She adorned in the soft T-shirt while shifting under the blankets. Her whole body wanted to just stay in here all day. But when she slid her hand to where Jungkook slept, something emptied inside her when there was nothing but a free space. Opening one eye to peek at the side, Belle whined a little.

Though eventually her annoyance faded when she smelled faint waft of berries in the air, fading the exhaustion as her eyes opened completely. Belle pushed off the bed slowly, fixing herself up as best as she could despite the clear thrilling bruise marks on her neck that made her body flutter in glee.

Walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen, she saw Jungkook pouring some hot water into two cups. The liquid was almost pitch black aside from the reddish tone glinting in the light.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to see the girl, hair a little disheveled and lips incredibly pouty when she walked towards the kitchen counter. “Onyx tea.” He slid one of the cups towards her. “I forgot I ran out of coffee so this is all I got.”

“It’s okay.” Belle smiled down at the cup, blowing off some of the stream before taking a small sip and her tongue tried to push the bitter taste back out. “Little pungent.” She attempted to hide her grimace.

“Oh yeah it tastes disgusting.” He chuckled. “But apparently it helps in relaxing the muscles.”

She remembered the slight soreness between her legs and continued drinking past the putrid taste. Part of Belle wanted to keep dragging on the comfortable silence just for a little bit longer but nothing good came with holding back reality into a tiny box for it to burst. “Jimin told me what happens when you break the rules.”

Jungkook’s smile faded at the mention, gripping at the edge of the counter with a deep sigh. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But I do. You can say that it was all your doing but it’s not going to change anything.” Belle tightened her grip around the cup when she remembered the marks on his back again. “I want to help.”

“Help how?”

“Maybe if I ask Yoongi to take you in like he did me.”

The vampire scoffed immediately, shaking his head. “I highly doubt that.”

“We could go talk to him and Kiku. Jimin–Jimin’s gone through something like this before, I know he’d understand.”

“The last time your friends saw me, they all wanted to kill me.”

“Because that’s what they do.” Belle got off the stool and walked closer to the male, caressing his forearm. “They protect the members of their group. Please…” She held onto his hand and hugged it to her chest. “Please let me do this for you.”

Jungkook stammered lightly trying to come up with an excuse or an argument that could convince her otherwise. That this system was impenetrable and his punishment was going to be inevitable. But the way the rubies in her eyes glimmered so brightly, he was reminded of the things Belle must have gone through. Despite all of it, she still stood here trying to convince him that good can come out of their suffering. Jungkook found it hard not to be swayed. “Alright. We’ll talk to them.”

Dawn brightened into midday when Belle escorted Jungkook to her group’s regular café hangouts. The colours were oddly cutesy with its mint and pink colour scheme when it served the best desserts and coffees for vampires. However no one really liked a horror themed café in the morning. She already noticed Kiku sitting near the window in the last booth while Yoongi shyly kissed her cheek.

Her arm hooked around Jungkook though his steps were slower than normal. Belle looked up to see the male gulping when he noticed the group.

“Are you sure about this?”

“It’s gonna be fine.” Belle muttered. “Besides we’re in a public place so they can’t kill you in front of witnesses.” She couldn’t help but giggle when Jungkook gave her a look of disapproval.

Jungkook couldn’t be mad for too long when the girl leaned in to press quick kiss on his cheek.

“They’re not horrible people, Kook, they’ll understand. And your plan might even make them like you.”

“Or trust me even less.”

“Well…on the bright side, this café has the best crimson macarons.” Belle smiled already feeling her mouth-watering at the thought of having it again.

“I’m here pissing my pants scared and you’re thinking about cookies?”

“Macarons, silly.” They walked into the establishment feeling a cool air rush though their clothes before stepping to the counter. “And try not to actually piss your pants.” Belle murmured under her breath but enough for Jungkook to hear.

Belle ordered her macarons and a red latte while Jungkook ordered a ruby black with two extra shots of blood. She felt a small tingle in her belly when he absentmindedly placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Did they all have to be here at once?” Jungkook rubbed her back, somehow oddly giving himself comfort by doing so. “Can’t I do it one by one?”

“They kind of always come in a unit nowadays so no.” Belle patted his chest. “I want you to talk to them properly, Kook. So you can at least be civil with each other in the long run.” She held onto his hand and finally led him over to the end booth.

Immediately Kiku noticed the girl and waved with a wide grin. However Yoongi managed to see someone else coming behind her causing a significant frown on his face.

The couple stood in front of their table while Jimin and Taehyung also joined in to shoot sharp glares at Jungkook leaving him in more of an uncomfortable position.

“No one freak out.” Belle muttered glancing at his friends. “But he’s here in peace.” She picked up a chair and placed it at the table so Jungkook could sit down albeit reluctantly. Belle opted to sit down next to Jimin while Taehyung observed the window outside.

Kiku hooked her arm around Yoongis’ when she noticed the anger radiating from him.

“His father hurt him a lot for protecting me.” Belle spoke plainly ensuring everyone knew why it was so important not to push him away. Especially with what their group stood for.

“He hurt you too.” Yoongi seethed.

Belle glanced over at Jungkook for a moment and saw him hanging his head. “He was ignorant…a lot of you were. Jimin, you cut off ties with Gaia because she was a human.”

Jimin’s head shot to face her. “That’s—That’s not the same.”

“Oh? Did you not feel weary about showing her off to your parents?” She tilted her head as the older male pressed his lips together. “Because you were afraid you two would get married and make someone like me?”

“Gaia was really heartbroken, Mini.” Kiku explained with a saddened expression. “It’s…kind of why she transferred to Tokyo.”

Jimin’s swallowed down the lump in his throat, blinking profusely before hanging his head.

Belle then looked over at Yoongi who had his gaze lowered in the thickening silence of the group. “Yoongi…you hated me when we first met. You wouldn’t even look at me until that day you got shot.”

The older male didn’t try to argue but he could still see that little glint of guilt spreading across his features as he tapped the side of his cup. “I love you now though.”

“I know.” She smiled. “And I want you guys to do the same to Jungkook. Maybe not now or even a couple of years from now but the system turned its back on him just like the rest of us.” Belle paused her words for a moment as the waitress came in with their orders, placing them carefully on the table.

“The Jeons are a little harder to sway when it comes to loopholes in the system.” Kiku explained while the other boys were trying to get their bearings after the walls Belle broke down between them. “Your father might not even care if you’re under our protection.”

“I can get my father to talk to him.” Jimin spoke up which caused Jungkook’s head to shoot up though the older male didn’t look over at him. “If he hears from an original, it might—at the very least—make Jeon weary of testing boundaries far too much.” He side glanced at Belle for a moment, shifting in his seat. “I will have to tweak the story a little, however and tell him you were protecting a half-blood or a turned to make it more uh—”

“Palatable.” Belle answered for him, giving him a reassuring smile.

Jungkook glanced over at both of them with a slight frown. “You’re going to lie for my benefit? I thought your parents hated lower classes.”

Jimin sighed. “Abiding by my parent’s beliefs has never gotten me anywhere good. I think everyone here can agree with that when it comes to their families.”

Belle watched Yoongi lean back against the booth couch, letting go of his cup with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You’ll need another place to stay.” Yoongi spoke, silencing everyone else completely.

“He can stay at mine.” Belle nodded. “It’s too big for one person anyway.”

“I gave you that penthouse as a gift.” He pointed at the younger female with a slight pout.

“And it’s lovely but there’s two spare rooms that are doing nothing for me so you can take one.” Belle smiled at Jungkook who whispered a small thank you.

Taehyung scoffed with a smirk, leaning his back against the window to face them properly. “Yeah, like he’s going to use the spare room.”

Kiku cleared her throat, giving the male a soft warning look before smiling back at Jungkook as she held onto Yoongi’s hand. A silent way to thank him for not pushing the boy away when he was in need. “So it’s decided. We remind Jeon not to enforce his beliefs on one of our own.” She looked at each member of the group.

Jimin nodded followed by Taehyung before Kiku turned to Yoongi.

The oldest male gazed around the group, stopping at Jungkook before looking over at the hopeful look on Belle’s face. “Always wanted to piss on the system one day, what the hell.”

Belle’s lips stretched into a wide grin as something fluttered in her belly when she saw Jungkook letting out a deep sigh of relief.

The air around the group lightened in a few minutes as Kiku started teasing Yoongi for being such a good caretaker. He would have looked annoyed usually if Kiku didn’t whisper something else in his ear causing a smile on his face. Even Jungkook began joining in on the laughter as they talked about how crooked Hoseok’s nose looked after he battered him.

Although Belle could feel a raging storm brewing in the future as they all did, it was a moment of small joy and comfort. In a world that wanted to shun them forever, they could still laugh and joke to show off their new freedom.

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#jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #tw: smut

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oh-writing-my-writing · 3 years

Text

sastiel, 1.2k, fluff ~ for @moostiel ♡

Sam wakes up to a sensation of closeness, warmth, and the unfamiliar feeling of fingers stroking his hair - a combination that would’ve lulled him back to sleep immediately, had a voice not interrupted his gentle reverie.

“Sam,” It’s Cas. Above, under and around him. A strange thing to think, but it feels correct. “Go back to sleep.”

Sam blinks, the haze of sleep fast fading.

“It’s still night.” Cas insists, and Sam can just about make out the indignance in his voice. Sleep-rumpled and bleary, it confuses him. “Four more hours, Sam, please. Go back to sleep.”

This time, his words actually register, and instinctively Sam cranes his neck to look at his alarm clock. It had taken a few months but they’d gotten used to not relying on a sunshiney wakeup call — living underground and all that. No suns knocking on your window and peeping through the drapes to confirm your resident angel’s claims, no sir.

But today, there’s no clock either. Just like there isn’t a bedside table.

Just like this isn’t Sam’s room.

“Dude!” Sam yelps, completely awake the second the shock settles in. (That's just the way it works.)

Wide-eyed, he takes in his surroundings - Cas’s trenchcoat slung over a chair, Cas’s chair, Cas’s chest of (mostly empty) drawers, and what can only be summarized as Cas’s room. And it’s an easy road from making that out, to making it to the source of Cas’s voice — Cas — above him, as earlier bizarrely suspected.

It’s an angle Sam’s never seen Cas from before - the little dimple in his chin as clear as the day-old stubble he wears eternally, black hair sticking out like it’s at war with itself as usual, and a minorly affronted frown tugging on the corners of his lips, wrong side up from where Sam's looking.

It’s — well, it’s kind of a nice angle.

Shit.

And maybe Sam isn’t completely up yet, because he finds himself distracted way too easily by the brand new perspective he gets of Cas’s wonky tie, and Cas's neck, and -

“Sam.” Cas repeats.

With a jolt, Sam’s up, heat rising in his cheeks as he finishes piecing the rest of the picture together. The hand in his hair, the warmth of his pillow, that feeling you get when you're being held, and the way he can see Cas’s Adam's apple bob when he speaks.

Holy shit.

He’d fallen asleep on Cas’s lap.

“C-Cas.” Sam stammers out, blushing furiously now.

Cas, inevitably, makes for a complete contrast to the way he feels right now — severely underdressed in his (still too large) white shirt, and perplexed instead of offended all of a sudden, with that little crease in his forehead that he gets. “I told you to go back to sleep.”

Sam’s eyes flit to Cas’s lap at the reference of sleep, where Cas’s trousers are rumpled - Sam’s fault, holy fuck - and his hand lies on the bed where, a minute ago, Sam had been. “Dude!” He flusters, eyes shooting up immediately, meeting Cas’s. “I can’t just go back to sleep on you! I -” Sam scrubs his face, heart still racing. “I don't even know how I ended up there!”

There’s a magazine in Cas’s hand - wait, that’s the Saturday Evening Post, isn’t it - and Cas immediately shifts all of his focus onto it.

There’s something wrong.

“Hey,” Sam swallows. “What is it? Cas?”

“Well,” Cas looks up. Thankfully it’s not going to take a lot to get the truth out of Cas, because that’s his confessional I-did-what-I-had-to-do look in his eyes. Used more than once professionally, yes, but never in context of just, you know, Cas and him. Them. “You fell asleep on the map table again.”

Cas lets out a reactionary sigh as Sam freezes. “But that's in the library -”

“I carried you here.”

Jesus, if he was blushing before. “You did what — ?”

“Sam,” Cas looks down at the page, and the back up, and maybe, just maybe, there’s some pink in his cheeks too. “We’ve had this conversation before. I’ve told you it’s not good for your spine -”

“- so you picked me up -”

“- and is one of the prime causes of your sleep deprivation -”

“- and carried me across the bunker -”

“- and you need to get more sleep, so I did what I thought best -”

“- and laid me back to sleep — what, with my head in your lap?” Sam finishes, chest heaving, in disbelief. Cas - he can’t just — goddammit, he can’t just pick Sam up, can he —

“Actually,” Cas licks his lips. “You did that yourself.”

“Well,” Sam’s already begun to say before he can run it through his head a couple billion times like he tends to do with sentences when its just him, and Cas, and the end of the world is not right there. “You were still the one playing with my hair!”

“I," Cas looks truly sheepish at that, and Sam regrets it instantly. “I’m sorry. I just — I thought -”

“Cas.” Sam interrupts, well and truly operating outside of his nervous system’s reach now. His brain sort of malfunctioned at the getting-picked-up-by-Cas part, and refused to really come back. Sam can't blame it - it’s a trainwreck over here. “I didn’t mean — not like that, okay? Don't be sorry. It was — nice.”

“You liked it?”

And the tinge of hope in his tone is all Sam needs to slammed in the face with a reminder of how goddamn smitten he is.

Before he knows it, he’s ducking his head, and rubbing the back of his neck, shy. “Y-yeah. Sure.” He chances a look at Cas again, and there’s a smile there now - full-blown, with the eye crinkles and the everything, and Sam’s insides flutter a little. Butterflies, or something pretending to be them. “People like it when — when other people do that.”

“I think the other people like it too.” Cas says simply. As if Sam’s senses had needed a further push away from coherence.

“Oh.”

Cas smiles again, it’s smaller this time. (God, Cas.)

“I mean, I —” Sam stammers. “I see.”

There’s a moment of silence - or even perhaps two, with Sam staring nervously, excitedly, awkwardly at the bedsheet, and Cas looking — god knows where, but it’s not at his damn animations, and it feels a lot like it’s at Sam, though he has no idea what to do with that.

At the end of it, Cas clears his throat.

“You still need sleep.”

“I just woke up,” Sam argues.

“Sam, I know how long you were asleep. I was there.” Sam flushes at his words. "Trust me, you need more.”

Sam can’t believe he’s actually considering it - but then, he can’t believe most of what’s happening right now, so figures, he reasons - but he finds himself asking, “What about you?”

“I don't need any.” Cas returns, tilting his head.

“I know that.” Sam’s eyes flit to Cas’s again. They twinkle back at him — so, so blue. “I meant, what about you now?”

“Well,” Cas’s eyes crinkle again, and something pulls in Sam’s heart. “If you don't mind, I think I’d like both of us to return to what we were doing.”

“Cas,” Sam says, soft, and that’s all the words he can think of.

And all the words he was looking for.

“I enjoy reading these, and you,” Cas goes on, his eyes back on the magazine, and they stay there for the rest of his sentence. “You have really soft hair.”

And maybe Sam imagines it, but his cheeks are a little pink again.

So Sam bows his head again and laughs, laughs till Cas joins in with that smile of his, and he scoots on the bed until he can be pressed up by Cas's side, their legs sprawled out in front of them, and Cas can resume whatever the hell he was doing that felt so friggin' good when Sam was asleep, and it’s adorable, and it's ridiculous, and it feels exactly like the kind of thing you remember forever.

#sam later finds out it was actually seven am when he got up and cas just wanted him to get eight hours for once #he pretends to be offended at being lied to for about ten minutes #before realizing non-sleepdeprived people aren't quite as cranky #<3 #sastiel #samcas #sassy #sastiel fanfic #sam winchester #castiel #sam winchester fluff #cas fluff #oh writing my writing

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honeytae · 4 years

Text

I think we should leave before you dedicate another song to me.

hi bubs!! so this is just the reader dealing with a very drunk jinnie doing karaoke ft. platonic hoseok, jimin, and jungkook. real chaotic, lots of drunken fluffy fun ahead. i hope you guys enjoy <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: fluff word count: 2.2k

“Jin, you should slow down.”

“Jinnie, you have to work early tomorrow.”

“Love, did you just order another?”

Despite all your reminders, Jin had continued drinking throughout the night, tossing back alcohol with glazed-over eyes, his movements and speech becoming more and more slacked with each emptied glass.

And now here you were, seated in a booth between Hobi and Jungkook, all eyes glued to your boyfriend swaying in front of the karaoke machine across the bar.

“Jesus, how much did he have?” Hoseok asked, cringing when Jin dropped the microphone, the emphasized ‘thud’ resounding through the building.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “but I blame Jimin.” You all looked across the bar to the man raising hell with shots in hand, tossing them back as if they were water as he continued shouting song requests at Jin.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I come out with this group.” Hoseok grumbled, Jungkook chuckling in response.

Hoseok, a glass of water in hand, was completely sober apart from the sip of Jin’s wine he had earlier. Originally, he had hoped to call it an early night; a plan that was foiled as soon as his friends decided to order copious rounds of shots for the whole bar.

You and Jungkook were in similar conditions, limiting yourselves to watch after the drunker half of the friend group, scoping the scene out from one of the booths by the exit.

Your attention was brought back to Seokjin when he cleared his throat into the microphone, exaggerating the action as he waited for your eyes to meet his.

Raising your eyebrows in amusement at the man, he winked at you, causing you to dramatically fall back into your seat with a hand over your chest.

Smiling at the sound of his giggles into the microphone, you watched as his finger moved around on the touchscreen below him, all three of you laughing when the familiar instrumental started.

“Is he kidding right now?” Jungkook’s nose scrunched up in laughter, resting his forehead in his palm with a shake of his head.

“Unfortunately, he is one hundred percent serious.” You answered with a smile, watching your boyfriend bob his head to the beat of the symbals before coming in to read the lyrics.

Hoseok’s loud laughter filled the room as Seokjin began singing the first words of Sweet Caroline, thoroughly amused at his older friend swaying to the music onstage.

Your eyes were momentarily deterred by the sound of Jimin whooping at your boyfriend from the counter, serving as his hype man as you let your head fall into your hands.

“Touchin’ me, touchin’ you.” He pointed at you, Hoseok laughing harder as he clapped his hands together in front of his face, collapsing back into the seat as his eyes clenched shut.

“Sweet Caroline,” your boyfriend sang out while smiling at you, making you giggle as he moved his hips to the following ‘bum, bum, bum.’

“God, he’s blasted.” Jungkook snorted beside you, you chuckling with him as you watched the man clumsily sway his body to the beat of the song.

“He’s having fun.” You shrugged, Jungkook watching your hand as you dug into your bag, laughing when you raised your illuminated phone screen and moved it back and forth along to the beat.

Quick to follow your action, the men on either side of you reached for their own devices, showing their support for their bandmate as he continued singing the entirety of the song, stepping back from the microphone stand when the instrumental faded out.

Cheering for the man, you raised your hands above your head to clap for him, yelling out praises for him as drunken people around the room did the same.

Seokjin suppressed a shy smile as he stepped off the stage, eyes set on you with a slight pout to his bottom lip, cheeks flushed in light pink as the corners of his mouth pressed into his plush cheeks.

He was a bit unsteady as he walked, just enough to be noticeable if you were really looking for it, but not enough for people around him to be bothered.

“Hi, baby.” Jin cooed at you, making grabby hands at you as he messily collapsed into the booth, your arms welcoming him into a hug as he rested his temple against your shoulder, legs haphazardly draped across the seat so that his ankles hung off into the aisle.

Bringing your hand up to his head, you brushed his hair away from his face, pushing it back and lightly scratching at his scalp as the younger men watched in amusement.

“Hey hyung, you having a good time?” Jungkook smirked, chuckling when the older man nodded innocently, wide-eyed expression making his younger friend giggle.

“I fucking killed it up there.” He mentioned, briefly glancing up at you for confirmation, making you giggle too as you nodded your head for him.

“You fucking killed it up there, love. Better than Diamond.” You affirmed, your boyfriend mouthing the words to himself before nodding with a slight grin, clumsily placing his head back down onto your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Are you having fun?” He slurred, you humming positively as you rubbed your palm in circles on his back.

“I am,” You agreed, “although,” you paused as Seokjin lifted his head to pout up at you, “I think we should leave before you dedicate another song to me.” You grinned, the man grinning back at you before settling back into your hold again.

He was quite literally latched onto you like a child in the middle of the bar, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you threaded your fingers through his soft tendrils, entertaining his mumbling about random topics as you tried to get him to drink some of your water.

Jungkook and Hobi soon went to the bar in search of a new glass of water for the man, each going to a separate side of the counter to try to gather an employee’s attention.

It was when Jin quieted that you began to feel concerned, leaning over his slumped frame to catch a glimpse at his closed eyes, staring before you began shaking his shoulder slightly to rouse him.

“You okay?” You asked as his eyes began fluttering up at you, hearing him whine as he scooted closer to you, burying his face into your neck further as you rubbed at his back.

“Mm. Tired.” He mumbled into your skin, pressing his lips to the spot.

“Ready to go home, baby?” You asked softly, cheering internally when you felt him nod his head against you, his weakened body sitting up straight with your help as you tried to gather your bag with your other arm.

“I can take that.” He reached his hand out for you to place the bag into, making you chuckle lightly as you agreed, his fingers gripping the strap as you guided his other arm over your shoulders.

Slowly coming to a stand with the man hanging on your back, you glanced over at the boys at the bar, offering a wave when Jungkook’s gaze found yours.

Quickly shuffling over to you, he ruffled his hair out of his eyes, shifting his focus to the half-asleep man on your shoulder with a slight grin.

“Hey, you want some help?” He offered, doe eyes eagerly shining back at you as you shook your head no.

“I think I’ll be able to get him in fine, I just-”

A crash interrupted your words, all three of your heads diverting to the source of the noise with wide eyes.

Jimin was on the floor instead of his stool, a shattered glass previously full of some kind of clear alcohol spilled all over the ground beside his body as Hoseok tugged on his arms with an annoyed expression to get him to stand.

“And it looks like you’re needed here.” You raised your eyebrows at the scene, Jungkook sighing as he nodded, frowning at the scene before he turned back to you, retreating backward to Jimin.

“Call us if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, wishing him luck before focusing your attention back on the man hanging on your arm, slowly turning to exit the building to not make Seokjin’s world spin any more than it currently was.

“Jimin’s so drunk.” He slurred, causing you to snort a laugh back, humming in agreement as you encouraged your boyfriend to step with you with a secured grip on his torso.

Walking down the street proved to be quite difficult with the tall man slung over your frame, arm thrown across your shoulders so that his weight was fully resting on you.

Your hand tightly clutched his over your collarbone, the other hand gripping his waist as your arm wrapped around his torso, his feet trudging along beside yours to keep up with the pace.

You hummed along to the jumbled words he said, only picking up certain details and names through the slurred sentences leaving his mouth as you tried to lug his body along the sidewalk, fully concentrated on getting him to the car.

Finally reaching the vehicle, you leaned the man up against the passenger side door, patting your pockets for the keys and sifting through your bag, frowning when you came up empty-handed.

Remembering that Seokjin had been the one to drive earlier, you turned to the man, biting your lip to contain the smile on your face when you recognized the tune from back at the karaoke machine being hummed by his throat.

“Do you have the keys, baby?” You asked, Seokjin’s eyes widening at the question before he furrowed his brows, the pats of his palms against his thighs exaggerated by the liquor in his system.

You had to suppress a laugh when he gasped upon finding the metal in his pocket, producing it with a proud grin causing you to lean forward to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” You said as you took the keys into your hand, offering your arm around his torso once again to guide him away from the car, the man stumbling after you to allow you space to open the door for him.

“I don’t know how much I can help with this part, love.” You admitted as you helped him lean against the car seat, the man nodding as he put his palms on the seat behind him.

“I think I got it.” He said, quickly boosting himself up from the ground to the seat with a triumphant grin, making you nearly coo at his adorable innocence.

Helping him place his long legs into the car, you watched as he fumbled with the seatbelt beside him, finally succeeding as the buckle clicked at his fingers scrambling movements.

Soft smile pressing into his full cheeks, Seokjin glanced up at you after his achievement, giddily mirroring your expression when you grinned at the content look on his face.

Even though it was obvious he’d be feeling it tomorrow, you were happy that Jin got to relax and have some fun tonight. He deserved it after everything he faced daily, so much worry and concern going into others that he forgot about the well-being of the most important person; himself.

“You good?” You smiled, the man nodding as he shot you a thumbs up, making you laugh as you retreated from the car.

“Good.”

Shutting the door behind him, you rounded the front, opening the driver's side to lift yourself into the vehicle with a huff.

The car started with a low hum, lights coming up on the display telling you that it was just short of 3 am, making you cringe even more at the amount of sleep Seokjin would get before having to wake for work in the morning.

He didn’t seem to pay any mind though, tapping his fingers against his thighs as he played an imaginary song in his head. The carefree action made you smile again, staring for a moment. Drunk Jin truly was a treasure.

“Music?” He suddenly mumbled, you chuckling at him for a moment before reaching for your phone, handing him the device to connect to the aux cord as you buckled your seatbelt.

Your lips quirked into a knowing smile when the intro to Sweet Caroline filled your ears for the second time tonight, glancing over at his smirking face with a giggle.

“You’re something else, dear.” You sighed, pushing his hair back off his forehead as he beamed at you, high-pitched chuckles filling the car.

Clutching the gear stick, you prepared to pull out of the parking spot, double-checking in your mirror for any cars to potentially catch you off guard.

Placing his hand over yours, Seokjin momentarily halted your actions, your gaze locking on his dark eyes as they shone back at you in the night.

“I love you so much.” He pouted, making you smile as you leaned forward to gently press your lips against his, pulling back with a swipe of your thumb against his chin.

“I love you too, Jinnie.”

“Baby?”

“Hm.” You looked over to him, the man gazing over at you as he slumped back in his seat, tired eyes meeting yours as they squinted at you.

“Am I as drunk as Jimin?” He asked, head tilted a bit as he awaited your answer.

“For sure, love.” You answered with a chuckle, switching gears with a grin as Seokjin clung to your arm beside you, absentmindedly swaying to the beat of the music in the background.

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luminouspoes · 4 years

Note

After Poe being tortured by Kylo Ren in TFA, he would have some kind of PTSD.... So I was thinking can you write about Poe having nightmares about that, and the reader comforting him? Just pure fluff

Warnings: some references to Poe’s torture/nightmares & PTSD

It’s well past midnight when you shuffle into the shipyard, a sweater tucked around you and a toolkit hung around your hips. You couldn’t sleep, so you figure it would be a good time to get ahead on some of the repairs you needed to do tomorrow, which included some minor repairs on Poe’s newest ship.

He hadn’t crashed it or gotten it blown up yet, which you supposed was an improvement, the most damage his X-Wing sustained in his last mission was some blown fuses and carbon scoring.

You’re surprised to already find a technician’s ladder rolled up against the hull of the ship when you arrive. You glance around, but find that the Resistance base is surprisingly quiet, save the sounds of wildlife emitting from Ajan Kloss’ jungles. You step up on the ladder and clamber up to the top, where you find Poe Dameron asleep in the cockpit.

His head is tilted back against the headrest like he fell asleep looking up at the stars - which he probably did - and while the sight is certainly endearing, he doesn’t seem to be sleeping well. His expression is screwed up and he’s fidgeting in his seat quite a bit. Worried, you rap your knuckles against the closed window to get his attention. It works - a little too well because Poe jolts upright abruptly and slams his head into the roof.

You wince apologetically as his eyes fall on you. His eyes soften around the corners, and he presses the switch to unlock the ship’s canopy as he runs a hand over his sore head. You push up on the canopy so you can rest your arms just on the edge, then you lean forward. “You’ve got to stop falling asleep out here, Dameron.”

“Well, at least I sleep,” Poe says defensively. “I’m not sure that you do, as many times as you keep finding me out here.”

“Insomnia is my best friend,” you retort wryly, stepping down the rungs when Poe goes to stand up. You hop down instead of taking the last couple of steps, then steady the ladder as Poe steps onto it. Instead of doing the civilized thing and walking down, Poe just grips the handlebars and slides down till his feet land on the soft grass beside you.

“Which I’m sure has nothing to do with the amount of caf you inhale.”

You skirt around his crack about your caf addiction. “So what’s your excuse for sleeping in this thing and not - oh, I don’t know - your quarters?”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, instead, his dark brown eyes sweep back up to the canopy of stars above. “The stars calm me down.”

You sidle up closer to him, following his gaze. There are thousands of glittering stars, too many to take in all at once. You’re tempted to point out a few systems you think you recognize, but you remain quiet because looking up makes everything on the ground fall to the wayside, and you kind of want to embrace that.

“You’re still having nightmares?” You finally ask, sliding your gaze from the sky to the star standing beside you. There really is no other way to describe Poe, in your mind. He’s a bright light in the middle of all this darkness, with an irresistible gravitational pull that brings people together.

“Yeah.” He admits, voice rough. His content expression slips to a pained one. “They were starting to go away, I don’t get why they’re so much worse recently.”

You step around in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Trauma’s not a straight line, anything could have triggered them. A recent mission, the way someone phrased something, general anxiety -” you brush your thumb along his cheekbone where you can just barely make out the faint outline of a scar - “Which there’s plenty of, anymore.”

Poe hums in acknowledgment, catching your wrist and bringing your hands down. He doesn’t let go though, instead, he pinches the fabric of the sweater as he thinks. “Outta all the things I’ve seen, I can’t believe I let that brute get to me most of all.”

You shake your head. “Nope, we’re not doing that.” You press a kiss to his nose, which he scrunches his face up at, ticklish. “You didn’t let him do anything, that’s not how this works.”

“How does this work, then?” Poe asks, sounding both genuinely curious and frustrated.

“It works by you not blaming yourself for your trauma.” You reply with ease. “You’re already doing well.”

“How so, doc?”

You tip backward and make a sweeping gesture towards the sky. “You found something to calm yourself down, enough to sleep by.”

“Not very well,” Poe admits as he rubs the back of his neck. “I was having another nightmare when you showed up, and besides...falling asleep in an X-Wing isn’t the most reliable way to catch up on sleep.”

You look down sheepishly, trying to muster up the courage to say what you're thinking. “You could, um, stay with me. If you want.” There's a leaf just by the toe of your boot with a fascinating set of bright orange veins that pop against the dull yellow of the leaf, so you stare at it as your question is met with a beat of silence.

“In your quarters?”

“No, in the X-Wing.” You retort sardonically. You fix Poe with a well, duh expression. “Yes, my quarters. I don't sleep well at night anyway, so you could...lay down and if I notice anything bothering you, I can wake you up.”

You entirely expect him to decline, but instead, he asks, “You wouldn't mind?”

“You're my friend, of course, I wouldn't mind.” You reply, cheeks warming. “Besides the Resistance needs its favorite commander well-rested.”

“Are you sure it's the Resistance's favorite commander and not yours?” Poe asks with a tiny smile, and you swat at his arm. He dodges easily, catching your hand again, but this time he tugs you forward. You stumble against him, one hand landing on his chest as he looks down at you with a soft expression.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace, his chin resting on the crown of your head. Despite your hammering heart, you melt instantly against him. Few people gave hugs like Poe Dameron did.

“Thank you.” He murmurs faintly as he moves his head to press a kiss to your hairline.

“Always.” You say when he draws back. You extend your hand to him, wiggling your fingers slightly. Poe chuckles, takes your hand, and you lead him back to your quarters.

You don't pass anyone on the way there, which is fine by you and by Poe too, you're sure, but by the time you're stepping into your room with Poe hanging sheepishly behind your heels, a wave of exhaustion has hit you. Still, you're true to your word, so you motion at the mattress. “Have at it,” you tell him as you move toward your desk.

Poe doesn't even pull down the duvet, just toes off his shoes and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed like he's afraid he'll break it. “You sure about this? I don't like the idea of you staying up all night to make sure I sleep. Where'd we be if one of Rose's best techs were falling asleep on the job cos of me?”

“I told you, I'm not even tired -” you hide a yawn behind your hand and cough, but Poe's eyebrow shoots upward so you know you've been caught - “I mean, I'm tired, but not enough to sleep.”

Poe leans forward off the bed, grabbing you by the sleeve of your sweater, and gently tugs you forward. You could hold your ground if you want, but you shuffle forward anyway, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

“You need your rest too, you know. I can always sleep on the floor or go back to my quarters.”

“You're not sleeping on my floor.” You scoff, “And I think we've already established that you’re having trouble sleeping in your quarters.”

“The X-Wing is always available.”

“Or we could just share the bed.” You don't mean to say it aloud - you don't think - but it slips out anyway. Part of you flounders, but it's overridden by your concern for his screwed up sleep schedule, so you continue on, “It's not like we haven't fallen asleep together before.”

Those times were different and you know it - falling asleep huddled together over datapads in the corner of the debriefing room was totally different than dozing off in the same bed.

Poe stands up and you start to think he’s going to leave, but instead, he gestures at the bed. “Pick your side.”

“Really?” You ask, moving to your favored side, closest to the wall. Unlike Poe, you yank the duvet down and snuggle in before patting the space next to you. He climbs on just as warily as before, feet kicked over the blanket.

“I figured there was a 50/50 shot of me finding you asleep outside my door if I tried to leave,” Poe says with a light smile and you whack him with one of the bed pillows. He isn’t wrong, you’re well-known around the base for your dedication to looking out for your friends, and that sounds...exactly like what you were planning to do if he wasn’t going to stick around.

He settles on the bed beside you, a low sigh escaping his lips as he stares up at the ceiling. You twist onto your side, propping your head up with your elbow. “Poe?”

He hums in response, not immediately taking his eyes off the ceiling.

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know.”

He turns his head to look down at you softly. “I know, I just...wish I wasn’t.”

You seek out his hand in the dark. As soon as you find it, you thread your fingers together. You wish none of this happened, it makes you angry when you think about it. “No one wants to be afraid, but it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Everyone’s counting on me. Leia’s counting on me.”

“You really think the General doesn’t have nightmares either?” You counter. His gaze flicks back up to meet yours. You shift again, scooting a little closer. “Rey’s mentioned having nightmares, so has Finn. Even Jess has them, you know that better than anyone. People are all counting on them, so what makes you so different?”

“I just...don’t wanna let her down.” He’s talking about Leia, you realize.

You shake your head. “Poe Dameron, that’s impossible. No one understands the General quite like you do.” You bump your knee against his side, “I’m pretty sure no one understands you quite like the General does.”

“I don’t know about that.” Poe chuckles and looks back up at the ceiling. “There’s this person who always seems to know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh? What are they like, then, have I met them?”

“Probably. They’re a technician. One of Rose’s best, actually. Chewed me up one side and down the other for strapping experimental tech onto Black One before it got destroyed. Usually drags me to bed when they find me out cold in an X-Wing.”

Your cheeks warm. “They sound like a handful.”

“They are,” Poe agrees and you resist the urge to swat him with a pillow. “Stubborn like you wouldn’t believe, strong sense of justice, has an even bigger heart and will do anything for the people they care about. They’re a damn good friend - even if they keep their room below freezing -” he emphasizes this last part by finally ducking under the blankets and you bark out a laugh.

“It’s not that cold.”

“Oh, yes it is,” Poe argues with a shiver. You roll your eyes and settle back into your pillow as he settles on his side, his back to you.

After a long moment of silence, you say, “Hey, Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a damn good friend, too.”

You’re met with a sheepish laugh, and you cautiously throw an arm around his torso. He doesn’t react for a minute, but just as you’re about to pull away, he wraps his hand around yours and pulls it up to his chest. You smile and awkwardly move closer, burying your face in between his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to even out, but you stay up for a while longer to make sure he’s in a steady sleep, but for the first time all evening, he seems relaxed and peaceful, so you close your eyes and murmur against his shirt, “G’night, flyboy.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #nonnie nonnie #myfic #not sure if this is pure fluff but i tried tojatoat

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

My Side

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: language, lots of smut, prostate massage, fluff, some mentions of angst (but it’s very minimal)

Genre: Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Y/N has had her entire future planned out ever since she could remember: step one- graduate college (done), step two- find a good-paying job (done), step three- marry someone she adores (done), and step four- have kids (???). She understands that life is full of obstacles, but is it too much to ask for your husband to finally knock you up?

A/N: Big apology to this anon user who requested this and had to wait like 8 billion years for me to finish it.

The fertility clinic was unusually cold, and I found myself shivering in direct contradiction with the sweltering summer heat collecting outside of the office building. Maybe that was the point: the doctors wanted to keep you totally alert while you waited for what seemed like hours for a standard routine visit. Because I could’ve already fallen asleep at this point - taking advantage of my day off from work to do something other than fret over the working condition of my reproductive system.

Of course, there was also the issue of my grumpy husband who had been thoroughly displeased when he found out exactly what a pap smear test implied. “He was totally checking you out when we came in,” Chan said. “Then, he insisted on sticking that thing up your vagina?”

“Oh, give it a rest, Chan,” I said. “I knew they would do that before I even came here.”

“I think he just wanted to look at your pussy,” Chan insisted. “And he did it right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!”

“You weren’t forced to stay in the room,” I pointed out, which I would’ve preferred but Chan insisted on standing over me like some kind of jealous observer who actually wanted to watch such an intimate procedure.

“Yeah, he would’ve preferred that,” Chan said, leaning further back in his chair. “How the hell is this even supposed to help us? We’ve only been trying for a few months.”

“Well, I want to make sure everything is working properly,” I said, and (just to spite him) I glanced down at his crotch. “What if you’re having performance issues, honey?”

“My dick works just fine,” Chan insisted. “But you know what? I think it’s partially your fault that we can’t pregnant. You’re putting too much pressure on him and it’s hard for me to focus.”

“Him?” I questioned with a grin. "Do you really want to personify your penis?”

“That’s not the point!” Chan exclaimed. “Did you even hear me, Y/N?”

“But what is the point, Chan? What exactly are you having trouble focusing on?” I asked. “We’re talking about fucking, not a tax audit. Keep the office out of our bedroom.”

“You don’t think I know the difference?”

“Apparently not since it requires more effort than necessary for you to orgasm,” I screeched, barely getting the words out before the doctor’s return.

Immediately, Chan and I were both forced smiles, pretending like we weren’t just having a pointless argument. “Well,” the doctor said. “Everything is fine on your end, Mrs. Bang. I guess that means we can perform some tests on your husband.”

“Oh, that would be great,” I said, even as Chan shifted restlessly from next to me. “Is there anything you need?”

“We’d like to ask you for a sperm sample,” the doctor replied while handing Chan a clear, transparent plastic cup that he accepted with obvious hesitation. “I’ll give you some time.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking over at Chan who was glaring at the cup as if personally offended by its presence.

But at least he waited until the doctor was gone before looking at me with wide eyes. “What do I do?” Chan asked, holding up the plastic cup while appearing thoroughly taken aback.

“It’s just masturbating,” I hissed at him.

“They want me to jerk off into this cup?” Chan gasped like the idea was so totally perplexing to him.

“How else will they get a sperm sample?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I was growing impatient.

But Chan still hesitated, using one hand to hold the cup while his other traveled down to the front of his jeans. “Do I just...”

“Yes!” I shouted while standing up from my chair. “It’s nothing hard, Chan, you’ve been masturbating since 9th grade!”

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing to do it here,” Chan argued, and I sighed for what had to be the thousandth time that day.

“There’s a curtain for privacy,” I said, reaching for my bag from the floor. “I’ll be waiting outside until you’re done.”

“Y/N!” Chan whined, but I left without another word, hoping that Chan could get his shit together because I was exhausted and the prospect of the bed waiting for me at home was suddenly everything that I wanted.

It turned out that Chan and I were both perfectly healthy, and there should be nothing impeding my ability to finally get pregnant. Chan even managed to smile after our doctor complimented his sperm because they were powerful swimmers or whatever the hell that meant. But that had also been hours ago, and after a well-deserved nap, I was feeling exceptionally horny. Thankfully, Chan was never the type to turn down sex, and a few innocent kisses had turned into a full-blown pornography session within moments of me circling my hips against the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me, Chan,” I said, and he nodded eagerly as we both helped each other escape the obstacle of our clothes.

“You should apologize to my dick first,” Chan said teasingly when he had me spread open in front of him, fisting his cock as he started jerking himself off.

“What? Why?”

“You questioned my performance earlier,” Chan said with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe my cock isn’t good enough for you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, whining when I tried to wrap my hand around the base of his erection, only to have Chan knock it away with a sharp growl. "Alright!” I groaned. “I’m sorry I questioned your all-powerful shaft, okay? So, can you please just fuck me already?”

Chan chuckled at my easy compliance, and he ran his thumb across the slit of his cock before positioning himself at my wet entrance. “Remember that next time, Y/N,” he said, exhaling shakily when he started to push inside.

“Shit!” I cried, reaching out for his broad shoulders as I held on as tight as possible for the ride waiting ahead of me.

“Such a tight cunt,” Chan remarked, pausing a moment to grind himself against my insides just to feel the pressure around his cock.

“Go faster,” I requested, throwing my head back when he complied, smacking his hips into mine as he searched for the perfect angle to leave me seeing stars.

“Yeah?” Chan purred, and he started thrusting faster than before, dragging his cock against the pulsating walls of my cunt, forcing more arousal to leak out around him. “Look at how good you always take my cock, baby.”

I reveled in the praise, craning my neck to the side just so that I could watch him disappear inside of me over and over again to match the sensation of his thick cock filling me up so well that it was almost mind-numbingly good. The best part was the pleasing sound of Chan’s moans, and I admired the way that he held himself up over me so that his muscles were practically bulging as he rolled his hips with seductive grinds. Meanwhile, I was drooling over the visual of his bulging biceps, whining underneath him because Chan was being unusually rough. Not that I would ever complain since every thrust managed to brush the tip of his cock perfectly against my cervix.

But it was only after Chan reached down to add a finger to the already tight fit of his cock inside my pussy that I remembered something that I had read on the internet as part of my endless pregnancy research. My eyes flew open at the reminder, and the lustful haze surrounding my sex-addled brain quickly vanished. “Hold on, Chan,” I said, pushing against his chest and disrupting the steady rhythm he had been maintaining.

“W-what?” Chan stuttered, pulling out while watching me roll over onto my stomach.

“This is a better position,” I said, raising my ass high into the air before giving him a teasing wiggle.

“Whatever,” Chan grunted, still too gone in his pleasure to care that much about my shenanigans. He immediately caged me in with his thighs, fumbling with his erect cock before aligning the tip with my aching cunt. I was relieved when he started jostling his cock back where it belonged, meandering in elegant strokes that resulted in the best friction.

“Make sure you come,” I told him while decorating the pale skin of his shoulders with nail marks as I reached behind me.

“You first,” Chan insisted, and my heart warmed at his selflessness even while it felt like all the blood inside of me was rushing south, moving through my veins and spilling over with a rapid descent that left me seeing white while Chan moved even quicker, thrusting like a man deprived.

I felt him come only moments later with the familiar heat that I had grown to appreciate more and more over the last few months. Thereafter, I immediately reached for a pillow from behind me, wincing at the sensitivity that lingered between my legs. “What are you doing?” Chan asked when he collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s supposed to help,” I said, raising my hips to place the pillow directly underneath me. “This article said that raising your legs after sex can improve your chances.”

“That seems ridiculous, Y/N,” Chan said.

“Hey! Blame your sperm,” I countered. “It’s not my fault they need an extra boost.”

“My sperm are just fine,” Chan grunted. “You heard the doctor. They’re excellent swimmers.”

“This is just a precaution,” I told him, sighing in relief when I reached down to cup my heat, ensuring that all of Chan’s cum stayed inside where it belonged.

For the past several weeks, work had become something of a chore that I was forced to endure on a regular basis. It was often a struggle to force my way through piles of paperwork or tedious emails that always said much of the same thing. After a while, I would find myself glaring at the clock because I was quite certain that time was moving slow for the sole purpose of annoying me.

There was also the issue of dealing with my colleagues, especially the ones who liked to gossip and had effectively made a whole thing out of my failed attempts at pregnancy. “Oh, Y/N,” they would tell me. “It’s been three months, hasn’t it?”

Like they didn’t have anything better to do with their lives besides meddle in mine. But the worst of them all were the ones who decided that they were some kind of authority figures and tried to give me helpful “advice.” Everything from the shit that I had already heard from my doctor and the articles online, to bizarre practices that left me wondering where they found their information.

My manager’s personal assistant was a frequent advocate. She was far more insistent than the rest of them because she already had two kids at home who she described as future Mozarts in the making. And because she had already been successful (twice, I might add), she always sat next to me at lunch with a new suggestion that supposedly guaranteed fertilization.

“It could be that he’s under too much pressure,” she told me before biting into her salad.

“I’m asking him to have sex with me, not invent a new computer,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve both been having a lot of sex, which might seem like a good idea,” she continued. “But it might actually turn out to be far worse.”

“What do you suggest then? Should I kick him out of the bedroom for a week or two?” I snarked, but she was hardly bothered by my sarcastic attitude.

“My husband and I tried stimulating him more directly,” she explained. “Maybe you could try it out.”

“How so?”

“It’s something like a prostate massage,” she revealed in a hushed tone as if it was top-secret information. “There’s all kinds of information about it on the internet.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, wanting nothing more than to brush aside her words, but maybe I was too desperate because I found myself skimming through countless articles after lunch, soaking in the vast amounts of information that I uncovered.

And I left the office that day with a new strategy in mind to surprise my husband.

The moment I first walked through the door, I was yanking off my jacket and calling for Chan who ducked his head out of our bedroom. “Why the hell are you yelling?”

“Because I have a wonderful idea,” I said, practically skipping over to him and offering him a deep kiss.

“Y/N,” Chan murmured against my touch, grabbing my shoulders to pull me back. “What are you going on about?”

“Just take your stupid clothes off,” I said, skirting past him into the bedroom. “I want you naked on the bed.”

“You’re already horny?” Chan chuckled, but he made no protest of yanking his shirt over his head.

“I want to try something,” I told him, opening the door to our closet to search for something that we hadn’t used together in a long time.

“Should I be afraid?” Chan asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he fisted his half-hard erection.

“Not if you have an open mind,” I said, turning around to hold up the bottle of lube, and Chan’s smile instantly vanished.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, tonight I’m using it on you,” I said, laughing at the way his forehead creased in confusion. “My co-worker actually made a pretty useful recommendation today.”

“Okay?...” Chan trailed off with an expression of perfect concentration - like he was doing his absolute best to understand.

“The internet called it prostate milking,” I explained, biting my lower lip to keep myself from laughing at the horrified expression on Chan’s face. “I want to stimulate your prostate.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Chan asked.

“Look, it has a lot of medical benefits,” I said. “Plus, I read that it can feel really good.”

Chan squired anxiously on the bed when I sat down next to him, and I could see that his cock was perfectly flaccid between his legs. “I don’t know, Y/N-”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted him. “This is perfectly normal. Now, be a good boy for me and get on your hands and knees.”

Chan frowned. “Good boy?” he grumbled before obeyed my command, crawling his way up the bed to position himself in the way I had suggested.

“There we go,” I said, softly running a hand down his spine.

“So far, I’m not impressed,” Chan muttered.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said, situating myself behind him before palming his ass. “This looks better than I remember, Channie.”

“Yeah, I guess the squats helped,” Chan said, and he flinched when I snapped a glove in place over my right hand. “What’s that for?”

“You think I’m gonna mess around your ass without a glove?” I snorted. “That’s not very hygienic.”

“Hygienic, yeah, okay,” Chan huffed, and he let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt when I opened the bottle of lube and drizzled some on my fingertips.

“Hold still,” I said, trying to get him to relax when my finger started circling his asshole, pushing against the tight muscle which wasn’t so easy to penetrate. However, with enough perseverance, I forced one finger inside and heard Chan release a rather unattractive sound.

“How does it feel?” I asked him, trying to move my finger around like I had read online.

“It just feels like you’ve shoved your finger up my ass,” Chan snapped, and I knew not to take it personally since he wasn’t so willing to go along with my crazy scheme in the first place.

“Don’t be so tense,” I said, rubbing my hand along his lower back. “Should I use more lube?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N,” Chan groaned, and I could tell that he was growing frustrated.

I was also losing confidence - wondering if this had been a bad idea because it definitely wasn’t as easy as my co-worker promised. Plus, I could tell that Chan was uncomfortable, squirming around under me while his cock hung limply between his legs. Clearly, he wasn’t finding any pleasure from this, and maybe it was entirely my fault for jumping into this without more preparation.

“Shit, Chan,” I said, removing my finger while releasing a sigh. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done this.”

I cleared my throat, feeling increasingly anxious when Chan refused to respond to my apology. He was still supporting himself on his hands in front of me, chest heaving up and down with each breath. I could see that the bright red tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment and that only made me feel worse because the last thing I wanted to do was make this bad for him.

Eventually, Chan rolled off to the side of the bed, collecting his sweatpants from the floor before walking into the bathroom. I closed my eyes when the door slammed behind him, and I quietly left the bedroom to give Chan some privacy because it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with the situation.

So much for my co-worker’s stupid suggestion.

However, in the grand scheme of things, I was always the first to recognize when my actions warranted reprimand.

After sleeping on the couch in the living room, I woke-up with a sore lower back and a guilty conscious. Chan had already left for work that morning, and he probably hadn’t paid me a single glance. But I probably deserved his wrath, which meant I would do everything that I could to make it up to him.

Consequently, I found myself flashing a bright smile at Chan’s office secretary who greeted me politely before calling Chan’s phone to see if he had some time to see me. There was a small part of me which worried that Chan might send me away because of last night’s events. Thankfully, his secretary waved me inside and I took a deep breath before opening the door while carrying the packed lunch I prepared for him.

Once inside, Chan offered me a cursory glance that only lasted a brief moment until his attention was once again focused on the file in front of him. “Channie,” I said, wincing at my shrill tone. “I brought you some lunch.”

I hesitated when Chan didn’t respond - walking over to his desk to carefully deposit the bag on his desk. I waited for a brief moment, but Chan refused to acknowledge me, which meant I needed to approach him more directly. “I’m sorry about last night, Channie,” I said, coming around his desk to perch myself on the edge. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m also sorry about the past few months because I’ve been so desperate to finally have my positive pregnancy test that I started to really neglect you.”

The pen Chan had been writing with stopped in the middle of whatever sentence he had been writing, and my husband finally allowed me the privilege of looking into his dark brown eyes. “It’s hard for me to stay mad at you, Y/N,” Chan said, and I nearly burst into tears at the simple declaration.

“You deserve to be mad at me,” I said. “I can’t believe you let me get away with acting like this. You should get the husband of the year award or whatever.”

Chan chuckled, tossing his pencil aside. “Sweetheart, I know how much this means to you, and I want it just as much, but maybe it would be nice if we could be intimate sometimes without worrying about whether or not we’re following all those advice columns you read.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, and I pushed myself away from the edge of the desk and fell onto my knees in front of him - reaching out to grab his thighs between my hands. “What if I blew you right here in the office?”

Chan’s answering moan was enough to solidify my resolve, and I easily worked apart the belt fastening around his suit pants. My fingers worked with an experienced touch because this wasn’t the first time we had done something like this in his big executive office and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan said, grabbing large handfuls of my hair while directing my lips closer to his exposed cock-head.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” I said, offering a tentative lick to his pulsating tip. Chan was already hard, and I gave him a few strokes with my hand before allowing my mouth to take care of the rest - opening wide to take him as deep as I could without gagging.

“Look at you,” Chan snarled, and his fingers traced the seam of my lips stretched obscenely around his cock.

I moaned around his erection, and Chan closed his eyes as he fingers tightened their hold - hips moving every so often to force his cock even further down my throat. But I’m sure it made for one hell of a visual, and I hollowed my cheeks as I ran my tongue across the distinct vein trailing along the underside.

“Keep going,” Chan said, and I could tell that he was close. And I started bobbing my head up and down, mimicking the same effect of his cock fucking my pussy, relaxing my throat and encouraging Chan to do whatever he needed to push himself over the edge.

He eventually came with an exaggerated groan, and I wrinkled my nose at the taste of him. Yet, I knew better than to let anything go to waste, and I struggled around the rawness of my throat as I swallowed - swiping my tongue around the head of his spent cock to clean up the excess.

“Was it good?” I asked him with a hoarse voice.

“Of course it was,” Chan replied, encouraging me off the floor and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as I listened to his heart slow back down to normal. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, teasing his lips across mine. “You’re not gonna freak out over the fact that we just wasted my perfectly good semen?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully hitting his shoulder. “It’s never a waste if it makes you come like that.”

He smiled, bringing out the fullness of his dimples, and we sat together while Chan ate his lunch and I mindlessly talked about the latest office gossip. It was moments like these that I loved more than anything about my marriage to Chan - pregnancy be damned. Ironically, it was only a few weeks later that I found myself looking down at a thin white strip with a blue cross displayed across the surface: positive.

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