#I actually heard it for the first time a year ago exactly! it was during the Easter service my church does :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 5 months

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DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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loudstan · 1 year

Text

Too Young

(Sequel to Presenting)

Summary: You thought avoiding Jisung after what happened during his first rut would make the problem go away (SPOILER ALERT: it didn't.)

Pairing: Werewolf! Jisung x Witch! Female reader

Warnings: smut, some angst, reader is slightly older and ridiculously stubborn, me simping for best friend! Jaehyun

That was probably the fifth time Jisung tried to call you today. And you still didn’t have the guts to pick up, glaring at your phone on the desk until the call was lost and the screen went off. You sighed in relief, but it didn’t last long; a soft buzz and a notification popping up catching your attention.

Jaehyun: Heey…

Not a minute later another message came.

Jaehyun: What r u doin this weekend?

You opened the message absentmindedly and replied.

‘I’m busy’

Jaehyun: oh ok

Jaehyun: no big deal

You should have finished the conversation there instead of asking…

‘why what’s up?

Jaehyun: nah its okay if youre busy

And now you felt like shit. Jaehyun had been an amazing friend to you for years and you had just lied to him because you were too embarrassed to face him and the rest of his pack after what had happened with Jisung.

‘No, Jae´

‘What do you need?’

´Tell me´

You bit your lip and waited but his answer never came, and being a huge overthinker, you found yourself dialing his number. He picked up after a few seconds.

“Hello?” You hadn’t heard his voice in a while. It caught you by surprise.

“H-hey!” you croaked, your own voice hoarse due to the lack of use. When was the last time you had actually talked out loud?

“Hey, you!” you could hear his smile even if you couldn’t see it, and it was contagious. “How have you been? It’s been a while…”

“I’m good,” you lied. “Just busy…and you?”

“I’m alright…” he said but he didn’t sound too great. There was a hint of tiredness in his voice, and maybe worry? You knew each other so well you just knew he wasn’t okay.

“Jae… what’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me,” he breathed out. “What’s going on?”

“...What do you mean?” you murmured, but you had an idea of where this was going.

“Well, you stopped showing up for movie nights like a month ago,” he started what felt like would be a long list of complaints. “Then Jisung disappeared for a couple of days, which he apparently spent with you, and when he came back he was a fully presented alpha-”

“Fuck…,” you sighed, because this was going exactly where you thought it would.

“And he looked so happy,” Jaehyun continued. You heard a can being opened and him gulping down a couple of sips of whatever liquid was inside that can. “Calm and collected, like he had suddenly figured out his entire life. He even smirked at me like he was mocking me, so I assumed… I thought that you two- you know…”

“I’m sorry, Jae…,” you finally said.

“Why?” he asked after a few seconds waiting for you to continue. “Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t-fuck,” you sighed, frustrated. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You heard Jaehyun take a few more sips of his drink on the other side of the line.

“...So, you two-?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We spent his first rut together. I’m sorry.”

“Again, why are you sorry?!” he raised his voice only slightly, and then as if he could see you flinching, he lowered his tone again in a calming manner. “What’s there to be sorry for?”

When you didn’t reply for what could have been an entire minute, he spoke again. “Let me see you. We can talk properly then.”

“Jae-”

“Y/N, please?” he pleaded. “I haven’t seen you in so long- I miss my best friend…”

“I miss you too…” you said.

“Then let’s hang out. Just the two of us, if you don’t feel comfortable meeting the others yet.” he offered.

You smiled. That seemed reasonable.

“We can do that,” you accepted. “You wanna come over?”

“Mmm… I’ll tell you what,” he countered cheekily. “Since you always complain about me making a mess and not helping you clean up when I show up, let’s get an airbnb for the weekend.”

“Jae.”

“Y/N.”

“That’s such a waste of money,” you deadpanned. “Just come over and help me clean. It won’t kill you to pick up a broom once in a while.”

“Can’t hear you, I’m booking an apartment,” he declared.

“Jaehyun!”

“Booked!”

You gasped and then groaned. “What the fuck, Jaehyun?”

“Stop whining and have a movie weekend with me. You owe me for leaving me abandoned in this cruel house full of men,” he reproached. “I’m bored, and I miss you, so I’ll see you at 8PM.”

And he hung up just like that. Leaving you wide eyed and with less than an hour to get ready and go to the address he sent you. Quickly, you took a shower, without even bothering to dry your hair and wore the most comfortable pair of shorts and hoodie you found, grabbing some extra clothes and putting them in your backpack before getting going. The airbnb wasn’t too far from your place, and you mentally thanked Jaehyun for being considerate, but all gratitude was gone when he opened the place and greeted you impolitely.

“You look like shit,” typical Jaehyun.

“Fuck off,” you said, walking past him to get in the cozy apartment he had unnecessarily rented. You probably did look like shit, to be fair; dark circles under your eyes, your skin looking dull and your wet hair sticking to your forehead and neck, you probably weren’t looking your best. But he didn’t have to say it like that.

You had barely stepped into the living room when you felt Jaehyun’s arms wrapping around you from behind, catching you off guard.

“I’m so sorry,” he said before you had the chance to ask why the sudden hug.

“It’s fine, I’m not mad. I know I look like shi-”

“No, not because of that,” he interrupted you and you heard him sigh behind you. “I was the one who told you Jisung had imprinted on you.”

“Jae, what-” you tried to turn around but he hugged you tighter, so you stayed still. You knew how awkward he was when it came to apologizing, so he probably wanted to avoid eye contact until he was done speaking.

“Because of what I said you felt pressured into spending his rut with him,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my fault that things got awkward-”

“Jaehyun, no,” you stopped before he could spill any more nonsense and grabbed his hands firmly but gently, motioning for him to let go of you before you turned around. “This is not your fault.”

“You’re my best friend,” he said, lowering his eyes in guilt. “And I misread the signs. I thought you had feelings for him-”

“You were right,” you admitted, gently lifting his face. “I feel something for Jisung.”

Jaehyun blinked a few times, then his brows furrowed as he tried to process what you had just said.“Then why are you avoiding him?!”

“It’s…,” you sighed and turned away, walking towards the kitchen. “It’s a lot to take in…”

“...Go on,” he encouraged you as he helped you reach some plates from the upper cabinet and placed them on the counter.

You sighed. “Why don’t we eat first?”

“I’m not hungry,” he argued, but he didn’t sound convincing. He was always hungry, so you just raised a brow and stared at him until he gave in. “Fine, I’m a little bit hungry, but we still have to talk after we eat.Should we order something?”

“What are you in the mood for?” you giggled.

“Uh… pizza? Chicken?” he asked, seemingly deep in thought. “Both?”

You laughed out loud and nodded. “Both it is,” you agreed. “No need to order, though.”

“Wha-?” he looked away from his phone where he was already opening the delivery app and his attention was directed towards a dim light surrounding your hands. In a matter of seconds, the plates in front of you were filled with a variety of delicious-looking food that had Jaehyun stuttering incredulously. “No way! When d-did you…? Wow! I thought you could only materialize liquids!”

“I’ve been practicing,” you said coyly.

Jaehyun immediately grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved it into his mouth,closing his eyes and moaning dramatically. “Marry me, Y/N, I swear-” his offering got interrupted when he choked on the food he was so excited to eat, coughing while you patted his back,

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jaehyun!” you nagged him playfully as he finally calmed down. “You still have to meet your mate, so stop asking random people to marry you.”

“I don’t just ask random people!” he defended himself, before eating another piece of pizza like he wasn’t choking seconds ago. He just didn’t learn. Zero survival instinct. “I asked you! I trust you! You literally made food appear like Jesus-”

“Jesus multiplied food, he didn’t just materialize it,” you were laughing hysterically now.

“You’re even better than Jesus then!” he continued, glad he was making you laugh after so long without seeing each other.

“I’m not gonna marry you, Jaehyun,” you finally said when you were able to control your laugh. “I’m Jisung’s-,” you gasped and quickly covered your mouth when you processed what you had just said.

Jaehyun smiled knowingly. “I can see that,” he said pointing at the mark that your hoodie failed to hide. “Seems like it’s official.”

You blushed and let out a frustrated sigh. “I really fucked up.”

“I still don’t get it, Y/N. You two like each other-more than just like, actually- so why are you acting like this?” he asked you softly.

“I feel-...I feel like I t-took advantage of him, Jaehyun,” you said, staring at the food that was getting cold. “It was his first rut. He couldn’t control himself.”

Jaehyun snorted and you glared at him, wanting to know what was so funny.

“Look, Y/N… with or without rut, I’m sure he loved fucking you- Hold on! Put that down! Hear me out!” he yelped when you grabbed an empty plate and aimed at him threateningly, your expression unamused at his crude choice of words. “Y/N, he’s wanted you since I first introduced you to the others years ago. I know it. All of us know it.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked slowly, putting the plate down.

“Well, I-... I have seen things.” he said.

“What type of things?

“Remember that shirt you left behind the first time you stayed at my place for the night? The pink one with a small heart on it? I was gonna wash it and give it back to you.”

“I liked that shirt…” you mumbled, slowly picturing the mental image of the forgotten shirt. “But you said you couldn’t find it, that it wasn’t at your place.”

“I lied,” he admitted. Normally he would avoid eye contact in situations like these, but now he was staring right into your eyes, like he wanted- needed- you to listen to him carefully, to understand, to take his words seriously. “Jisung has it.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“After you left, I asked the pack if they had seen the shirt and I described it in detail, but everyone said they hadn’t seen it. Jisung’s face was red as a tomato, staring at the floor and squirming in his seat..I didn’t think much of it at first, but when I found the shirt under his pillow weeks later…” Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle and shook his head at what he thought was a funny memory. “I knew if he didn’t find it where he left it, he would panic at the thought of someone discovering his secret. I didn’t want to embarrass him so I left the shirt right there and didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe Chenle put my shirt there as a joke,” you argued, but deep down you knew Jisung himself had willingly kept your shirt.

“That’s not all I’ve seen. I see how he looks at you; his pupils dilate while following your every fucking move like he’s on drugs. I’ve seen him smelling your hair when you aren’t paying attention, licking his lips while looking at yours-”

“Jaehyun-”

“I’ve heard things too,” he bit his lips and raised his eyebrows suggestively, hoping you would get it, but you just stared back at him blankly. “I’ve heard him moaning your name late at night more times than I can count.”

“Oh my god, Jaehyun! Shut up!” you hissed, scandalized.

“It’s not like I want to hear, Y/N,” he hissed back, imitating your tone. “Werewolves just happen to have incredibly good hearing. If I heard it, then trust me, the entire pack heard it. He wants you like crazy, Y/N. The rut just gave him the courage to act on it.”

You felt yourself blushing and your heart beating faster at the newfound information. Part of you was happy to know that it hadn’t just been his rut, but that didn’t solve everything.

“He’s too young. It’s just wrong,” you argued exhaustedly.

“...Seriously? That’s what made you run away from the poor guy?” Jaehyun asked incredulously. “His age?”

“He’s not ready to make a lifetime decision like that-”

“No, Y/N. Stop babying him,” Jaehyun wasn’t going to accept that as an argument. “Yeah, he’s a bit younger than you, but so what?! He is an adult! And he presented as an alpha-”

“He just presented-”

“What difference does it make? Whether he presented yesterday, last month, or last year doesn’t change who he is. He is a man, Y/N and he knows what he wants.”

You gulped and cleared your throat awkwardly. Jaehyun normally wasn’t this stubborn; he always let you have it your way and win every argument, but he wasn’t backing down now. You didn’t want to continue this conversation anymore.

“Jaehyun, I came here to see you. I don’t want to fight,” your voice shook slightly as you spoke. “Can we just watch a movie together?”

Jaehyun didn’t want to fight either. And he especially didn’t want to make you cry, he just wanted the best for you and Jisung, but he could tell the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He would have to find another way to help you.

“Let’s watch Barbie,” he proposed, hoping to make you laugh again. You rolled your eyes and suppressed a smile, which was enough for him. You spent the evening joking, laughing and watching movies, complaining about the characters and the plot holes while cuddling like in the old times. You felt comfortable in your friend’s arms and soon started falling asleep while he caressed your hair. Jaehyun was whispering something, but you were too tired to pay attention.

“Forgive me,” you thought you heard him say before you surrendered to sleep.

When you woke up a couple of hours later, Jaehyun wasn’t next to you; his side of the bed was cold and the TV screen displayed that Netflix message asking if you wanted to continue watching. Everything was in silence.

“Jaehyun?” you called out sleepily.

“He is not here,” that voice did not belong to Jaehyun. You jumped slightly and looked around trying to find the source of that voice, your eyes slowly adapting to the darkness around you.

“J-jisung?!” you breathed out when you finally spotted him sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, his features barely distinguishable under the little rays of moonlight that managed to enter the room.

He just stared back at you tiredly. Like you, he looked like he hadn’t slept well in a while.

“W-where is Jaehyun?How did y-you get in?” you asked nervously.

Jisung’s gaze darkened, his fingertips digged harshly into his knees and he clenched his jaw before reaching for his phone in his pocket and unlocking it. After scrolling down a couple of times, he stood up and walked around the bed, making you squirm cautiously at his behavior. He stopped next to you and showed you the screen of his phone, the light hurting your eyes slightly.

There it was: a message from Jaehyun with the exact address you were in and the code he needed to open the door, followed by the words ‘she is here.’

“W-what…?” you mumbled dumbly, reaching for your own phone and finding a message for you too.

Jaehyun: sorry Y/N but u 2 need to talk

You scoffed incredulously. “Fucking traitor.”

You slammed your phone on the nightstand and sighed, your eyes meeting Jisung’s once again. His unreadable expression made you incredibly nervous.

“W-when did you get here?” You were the first to break the silence.

“An hour ago… or maybe two,” Jisung replied, dark eyes still boring into yours.

“Oh,” you shifted awkwardly on the bed. That meant he had been watching you sleep the entire time. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he mumbled, his fingertips playing with the hem of his hoodie. “I’m not dumb. I know you’re avoiding me. I just wanted to look at you a bit longer and then leave before you woke up,” his voice got smaller as he reached the end of that sentence.

The way he was showing himself in such a vulnerable and hesitant state made all the negative feelings you had been feeling the last couple of weeks come back stronger than ever; guilt, shame, anxiety and fear. Jaehyun was right; you had to at least have the decency to talk to Jisung and solve this issue once and for all.

“Jisung,” you called out, making him flinch slightly. “There’s something I have to tell you-”

“Could you take a shower first?” he suddenly blurted out, like he had been holding it in for a while. “You reek of him,” he quickly explained when you gave him a perplexed look.

Your first instinct was to argue back; to tell him that he had to get over it and that this conversation was more important than his wolf being possessive. But after a moment of thinking, you decided to fulfill his request. You had already done enough damage, and you were about to hurt him even more, so the least you could do was make it a bit more comfortable for him.

“Sure,” you said as you got up from the bed and made your way to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes from your backpack as you walked past him. “See you in a bit.”

He let out a soft ‘ok’ before you closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, your legs shaking slightly. You had forgotten how alluring his voice was, how pretty his eyes were and how soft his lips looked. As you felt hot water run down your skin for the second time that day, part of you wanted to just beg for his forgiveness and kiss him until your lips were swollen, but then again, that little voice in your head told you you shouldn’t and that you had to end things with him. Or at least that was what you intended when you exited the bathroom and joined him in the living room.

“Put this on,” he offered you the hoodie he was wearing earlier as soon as he saw you. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down your spine and you finally noticed that Jisung had opened all the windows- probably in an attempt to get rid of Jaehyun’s scent.

“I’ll just go get my own hoodie,” you replied, but he quickly shook his head.

“No. This one,” he insisted, practically shoving the hoodie into your arms. “Please,” he added when he sensed your hesitation. You sighed, and put it on, again telling yourself it was the least you could do for him.

“Listen, Ji-” you started saying, but as soon as you finished putting the large hoodie on Jisung’s arms were around your waist, bringing you incredibly close to him as he rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck affectionately. An unintentional pang of pleasure clouded your mind when he rubbed the mark on your neck slightly and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed, baring your neck for him. Jisung hummed appreciatively and gave your neck a long lick that made you whimper before you remembered what you were going to say. “J-jisung-”

“Hmm?” he acknowledged with a kiss on your neck before he got back to scenting you..

“I’m-” you bit your lip and gathered the courage you needed before speaking again. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

He tightened the hold his arms had around you, fingers digging into your flesh. “It’s okay,” he assured you quickly through shaky breaths. “We’re okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you sighed and tried to put some distance between the two of you, but he didn’t budge. “I- I should have done this sooner-”

“I said we’re fine,” he repeated, this time his voice was firm. “We’re together now.”

“But we´re not- we shouldn’t b-be…fuck,” you groaned and took a deep breath. “What happened between us- it was a mistake.”

There. You said it.

The hug you were captive in loosened up and Jisung lifted his head, taking a hesitant step away from you. His brows furrowed in a puzzled expression that soon turned into one of anguish, his glossy eyes telling you that was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. You felt like absolute trash.

“...Why do you say that?” he asked, his voice cracking.

You did your best to ignore the way your chest throbbed at the sight. “It w-was your first rut and I-”

“Fuck,” Jisung turned around and threw his head back, walking a few steps away before he hunkered down on the floor like he was in physicall pain. “FUUUCK!”

You didn’t dare to move nor say anything else. It was the first time you had heard him raise his voice and it reminded you of the severity of the situation you were in. You had fucked up badly.

“Of course!” he said as he slowly stood up, facing you again, his face pure of torment. Heartbroken. “Of course you would never want to do all that with me,” he laughed bitterly.

You clenched your eyes, his words hurting more than you anticipated. “Jisung, I-”

“You just felt sorry for the late presenter who was humping your pillow like a loser,” he spat angrily.

“That’s not true-”

“And here I was thinking I had a chance with you,” he continued rambling,panting heavily. “That you may actually like me back-”

“I do!” you bursted out, finally catching his attention. “I do like you,” you admitted as tears rolled down your face. “I like you s-so much,” you ended your confession with a sob and covered your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry.”

For a whole minute the only noise that could be heard in the living room were your mournful sobs and Jisung’s heavy breathing.

“...You lost me there,” Jisung finally broke the silence. “I don’t get it,” he walked towards you cautiously as you wiped your tears desperately. “If you and I feel the same, then why-... why are you saying it was a mistake?”

“B-because you-,” you tried to compose yourself and speak properly, but your body and heart simply weren’t in the mood to listen to your brain. “You’re too young and-”

“What?!” Jisung asked like you had just said he was a vampire. You tried to hide your face again but he grabbed both your wrists and pulled them to your sides, his eyes looking for yours. “I’m too what?!” he repeated.

“Too young…” you barely whispered, looking away.

“Too young for what?” he spoke through gritted teeth. “To date? To make my fucking choices? To fuck?!” he continued, slowly cornering you against the wall. “Too young for you, noona?”

You inhaled sharply when your back bumped into the wall and he pinned your hands on each side of your head. “J-jisung, we s-shouldn’t-”

“Why?”

“I just don’t w-wanna take a-advantage of yo-” before you could finish that sentence Jisung was kissing you firmly, soft lips moving against yours. Your heartbeat accelerated when he nibbled on your bottom lip softly, as if asking for permission and letting out a frustrated groan when you didn’t let him in. You turned your head to the side and spoke again. “Jisung I can’t-”

“Shut up,” Jisung growled, letting go of your hands to grab your jaw and forcefully make you face him, his other hand sneaking around your waist. “Just shut up. I don’t wanna hear any more nonsense,” he warned you and crashed his lips into yours again, nibbling and licking insistently for you to part your lips. When you refused to give in again, his hand went from your jaw to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and tugging enough to catch you by surprise, using the soft gasp he elicited from you as an opportunity to finally deepen the kiss. He moaned into the kiss and massaged your scalp gently as an apology, and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull, finally daring to kiss him back, all will to fight slowly evaporating from your body. When he broke away from the kiss, you caught yourself feeling utterly disappointed.

“Are you done being impossible?” he asked, pecking your lips softly. “Done making things unnecessarily difficult?” the next kiss lasted a bit longer, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Where did you even get that ridiculous idea, hm?” he pressed his hips into yours, immediately reminding you of his size. “You think I’m some innocent kid, is that it?” he challenged, rutting against you firmly. The effect was immediate: you felt yourself melt into a puddle at the touch you had been craving for weeks, letting out a soft moan, much to Jisung’s delight. “Yeah? You missed me?” he chuckled against your lips, pressing himself against you harder and making you whine desperately. “Then you should have picked up your phone, no? Texted me back? Opened the door when I showed up?” He kissed his way from your jaw to your neck, sucking harshly. “All because you felt guilty? Guilty for what? For making my biggest fantasy come true?” he growled against your neck, making you tremble.

“Jisung-,” you gulped when he grabbed your shorts and panties and pulled them down unceremoniously. “S-slow down. Let’s think-”

“Don’t wanna,” he simply said as he finished undressing your lower parts. “I’ve had plenty of time to think. I’ve been thinking about this for years, noona,” he pulled his sweatpants down along with his boxers only enough for his hardened cock to be released, bobbing and hitting his covered lower abdomen. “The more I think of it, the harder I get.”

You could feel yourself drooling at the sight of Jisung slowly jacking off in front of you as he observed you with hooded eyes.

“You want it?” he teased you, his hand circling the tip of his cock and squeezing slightly, hissing. You could only nod dumbly. “But you think it’s wrong, huh?” he quirked his eyebrows and you nodded again. He rolled his eyes and pressed his body close to yours again. “Because I’m too young?” he cooed. Again, you nodded, like it was the only thing you knew how to do. He hummed, not stopping the constant movement of his hand on his dick, while his other hand made its way between your legs, sliding two fingers along your pussy and spreading your wetness to your clit. “Then why are you this wet? Aren’t I too young to make you this wet, noona?”

You closed your eyes, embarrassed. “J-jisung, please…” you begged, without being sure of what you were begging for. He slowly inserted both fingers into your entrance, both your jaw and his falling open; yours due to the stretch and his for the anticipation of being surrounded by you. He moved his fingers carefully inside of you, searching for that one spot he had found last time-

“AH! J-jisung oh g-god!”

Found it. He smirked and stole another kiss from you before quickly massaging that spot in a ´come here´ motion, along with stroking his cock lazily.

“Jisung f-fuck, fuck oh-!” you didn’t know what to hold onto, and ended up pulling at his shirt with trembling hands. Sensing how close you were, he put his own pleasure aside, releasing his own member and using that hand to draw smooth circles on your clit. “JISUNG-” you gasped and threw your head back, surrendering to the intense orgasm Jisung had built up for you. You didn’t know if it was because of the mating mark, but only Jisung could make you feel like this. You worked on controlling your breathing as Jisung retracted his fingers from you gently, and opened your eyes right in time to see him bring his soaked fingers to his mouth, licking them wantonly and moaning in delight. For a second his eyes gleamed a reddish tone that made your blood run cold.

“Don’t worry,” he said as if he knew what you were thinking. “It’s too soon for me to have another rut. Especially when my last one left me so…,” he licked his lips. “...Satisfied.”

“O-oh,” you replied, trying your best to form a coherent sound, but your legs chose that moment to give up on you and your body started sliding down the wall. Luckily, Jisung was fast enough to reach for you and hold you firmly against him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice showing a hint of nervousness as he tried to look for an answer in your unfocussed eyes.

“Feel weird-” you managed to answer, letting him lift your weak body and guide your legs around his waist, pressing you against the wall once again. When his hot cock rubbed against your sensitive pussy your entire body trembled and you moaned into his chest.

“Noona,” he cupped your face with his palm, holding your weight with one arm like it was nothing. “Weird how? What do you feel?”

You shook your head weakly. You didn’t know how to explain the way your body responded to Jisung, making your limbs weak, your chest warm, and every nerve tingling with pleasure, something in the back of your head telling you to submit to him. Jisung bit his lip before he decided to look for your neck, giving it experimental nuzzles and licks like a puppy trying to comfort its owner. You moaned out loud and bared your neck for him, giving him as much access as he wanted.

“A-alpha,” you moaned, shaking in his arms. Jisung’s eyes lighted up with a hint of red again, and stared at you expectantly. “Make it b-better, alpha-,” you sobbed desperately.

Something in Jisung snapped right in that moment, inhaling sharply and kissing you fiercely, his hips rutting against you roughly and creating a friction that had you gasping into the kiss.

“It’s okay, noona,” he assured you while his hand slid between your bodies to line himself up against your entrance, pressing only slightly in an attempt to make you open up for him without forcing it, although it felt like torture for you. “Alpha will take care of you,” he declared before the head slid in, making both of you moan loudly. “Feels good, yeah? Feel how good alpha fills you up?” he panted when he managed to bury himself completely inside of you.

“S-so good,” you stuttered brainlessly, letting him bounce you on his cock and against the wall.

“Still think this is wrong?” he asked in between kisses. “Still think I’m too young?”

He slowed down his thrust to a stop when you didn’t reply, distancing his upper body from you enough to see your embarrassed face. “You do?!” he asked incredulously. You looked away and he scoffed. “Am I not enough of a man for you? Even after I marked your pretty neck as mine? Even when you can barely take my cock?” he thrusted into you sharply as to emphasize his question. “Get rid of that stupid thought, now,” he ordered you, his eyes showing a red hue again.

“I-I’m trying-,” you hiccupped with difficulty as he fucked you intently. “It’s n-not that e-easy-”

“Let me help you,” he hissed and just like that you suddenly didn’t feel the wall against your back anymore. You shrieked and hugged Jisung more tightly out of fear of falling on the floor now that you didn’t have the wall as support. Jisung walked a few steps back, with you clinging onto him like a koala, before he grabbed your waist with both hands. “Let me show you how much of a man I can be.”

Before you could complain about the possibility of you being too heavy for this, or him losing balance, or all the ways this could end up badly, he silenced you by lifting you up and slamming you down back into his cock with ease, reaching deep enough to make you choke on your saliva.

“Could someone who is too young do this?” He snickered and kissed your neck before he started moving you up and down his cock with ease, as the muscles in his forearms tightened and his veins popped up attractively. You didn’t even know strength could turn you on like this, but when Jisung used you like you were nothing but a fleshlight you felt another orgasm approaching you fast. “Tell me, noona,” he hissed. “Am I n-not a man to you?” he fought the need to roll his eyes back in pleasure to see your wrecked face.

“Al- alpha,” you tried to reply as you felt your orgasm so close you could barely speak. “Y-you a-...you’re a m-man fuck, alpha, alph-AH!” you sobbed as your vision went blank and your walls clamped around him, making him moan and tremble, hugging you tightly against his chest, where you could feel his heart beating through the material of his shirt.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his hard cock still inside of you contrasting the romantic nature of the way he was hugging you.

“Y-you’re a man,” you admitted, feeling weak after the mindblowing orgasm.

“Say you’re mine,” he spoke again.

“I’m…,” you sighed as he kissed your mark softly. “I’m yours, alpha.”

“Now tell everyone,” he ordered, catching you off guard. Who was he talking about? Did he mean telling the other members of his pack? Telling your friends? Introducing him to your parents? As you were trying to understand what he meant, he started walking towards the balcony, walking past the window and standing there in the cold night, where all the neighbors could see you. “Now.”

“J-jisung, what are you doing?” you slapped his chest weakly until he put you down. You were glad his hoodie covered you past your thighs and he was fully dressed- except for his cock on full display- and tried to hurry him back inside before someone saw you both, but Jisung quickly grabbed your hips and turned you around against the balcony railing, pressing his body against you. “Jisung, n-not here!”

“I want the world to see,” he murmured like he was in a trance. “I want them to hear how good you are for alpha,” he purred, lifting the back of your hoodie just enough for his cock to rub against your ass.

He was crazy. There was no way you were going to do that. Or so you thought, but the moment he slid himself back into you with a shameless moan, all caution was forgotten, and you could only think about how good he was stretching you and how sweet he sounded moaning against your ear.

“Noona,” he moaned into your neck, his hips speeding up to a constant rhythm. “Say it again,” he pleaded, his hands feeling you up like a madman, wanting to memorize every curve. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m y-yours,” you whimpered, your fist tightening around the railing and enjoying the way his cock twitched inside of you at the words. “I’m yours, Jisung, p-please I’m- oh! Oh god, Ji I’m yours, I’m yours I-” you moaned when he cursed and his hips stuttered.

“I love you, n-noona,” he sobbed, digging his fingers into your hips to keep you in place to take his unruly thrusts. “I love you, I love y-you so much so, so much ah! Ah, fuck, ah!” he panted heavily as the base of his cock started inflating into what soon would be a huge knot. “D-don’t try to run away from me a-again, noona,” he pleaded? Warned? “I won’t let you. You’re n-not going anywhere-fuck! This pretty pussy’s all mine,” definitely a warning. “I’ll fuck you so good, noona, hhm? Breed you every day, keep you so f-full you w-won’t have any more stupid ideas in that pretty head of yours, y-yeah?”

You moaned so loud you knew someone out there had surely heard. But you couldn’t care anymore; the only thing in your mind were Jisung’s filthy promises and the stretch of the knot he insistently tried to push into you were making you delirious. “Y…yeah- oh fuh- ugh fuck yes, a-alpha!” your slurred words were barely understandable, too cock drunk to express yourself properly. “Fuck me s-soh aaah! so g-good- wanna… want you inside of me all d-day.”

That’s what did it for Jisung. He rammed into you harshly, his knot finally inside of you as his cock jerked, continuous gushing of cum making you feel full enough for a small bump to form in your belly.

“You’re squeezing me s-so good, noona.” Jisung panted deliriously while licking your neck. “Taking all my cum, yeah? Milk me up some more, hmm?” he asked, one of his hands finding your clit and rubbing it quickly as you moaned and squirmed against him. “Yeess, noona, just like t-that, come on, cum for me, cum for alpha-” he demanded, relishing in the way your walls contracted round him.

“A-alpha!” you whimpered when your third orgasm of the night hit you, shaking uncontrollably as Jisung released another spurt of cum inside of you. “love y-you, alpha…” you croaked out weakly. Jisung purred a chant of ‘love you too, love you so much, noona,’ as he gave the mating mark one last kiss and slid out of you when his knot shrunk enough to allow it, cum immediately sliding out and down your thighs as Jisung carried you back inside the apartment.

Jisung laid you down on the sofa and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back right after with a wet towel that he used to carefully clean you up, gently apologizing whenever you would flinch in oversensitivity.

“You came a lot…,” you commented absentmindedly.

“Oh that’s probably because- uh, I haven’t come since the last time I saw you,” he confessed, shrugging.

“What?” you yelped. “That was like three weeks ago! Why didn’t you uh–... you know,” you ended vaguely by making a crude gesture with your hand that had him laughing out loud.

“I tried,” he explained when his laugh calmed down. “I would start jerking off, but my hand didn’t feel as good as yours, and it wasn’t as soft and warm as…,” he eyed you up hungrily. “...As all of you. So I would get frustrated and give up.”

“That sounds like torture,” you say.

“It was,” he admitted. “But I feel much better now.”

You hummed and then you both fell into a comfortable silence.

“Are we-” Jisung bit his lip nervously, going back to his reserved persona like he hadn’t just fucked you out in the open. “Are we okay now?”

“Yeah,” you replied tiredly. “More than okay.”

“...Will you give us a chance, then?” he asked hopefully.

"Will I get my shirt back if I do?" you asked cheekily. "The pink one, with a heart on it," you added when Jisung gave you a puzzled look. Then you saw his eyes widen and his face blush a record shade of red.

"Who told you?!"

"Jaehyun."

Jisung groaned dramatically. "Look, noona. I'm not a creep. It just smelled so good-Fuck! That's what a creep would say-" he tried to defend himself desperately.

"Jisung," you called for him, giving him a tender kiss. "What do you need the shirt for if you can have me anytime you want."

His eye color matched the blush on his face at your words as he licked his lip tentatively. "Anytime I want?"

You nodded and kissed him again, feeling him smile into the kiss.

Then a thought crossed your mind and you broke to kiss, gasping in realization.

“We’re gonna get a noise complaint. Or a complaint for public indecency. We’ll get banned from using airbnb.”

“Under whose name is the reservation?” Jisung asked

“Jaehyun’s.”

“Then I honestly don't care,” he said nonchalantly as he leaned in to kiss you again.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #park jisung x reader #park jisung smut #jisung smut

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

Text

Note: another fun request!

Warnings: 18+! smut/fluff.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You were the best healer Uhtred and his men had ever met, and they were more than happy when you agreed to travel with them. But when one evening secrets were revealed around the campfire, the night took an unexpected turn.

wordcount: 2,3k

Masterlist

'A man never made you finish?'

'Osferth?' Finan grinned.

'Fine,' the monk sighed, 'I was humping one lady when another lady thought I would marry her. And they fought over me.'

'What?' you laughed, shocked.

''Tis true,' Uhtred laughed, 'I saw it happen. More than once, and I'm sure it won't be the last.'

'Aye, I can confirm that too,' Finan said, 'must've learned it from his father.'

You all laughed as Osferth muttered something inaudible.

'And what about you, Finan?' you asked, helping Osferth out with his embarrassment, 'tell us a secret about you.'

'I once fell in love with a lady,' Finan sighed, 'a beautiful lady. And I didn't even hump her, but I still love her, and it's been years.'

'Eadith?' Sihtric asked.

'Eadith,' Finan confessed.

'Who is Eadith?' you asked.

All the men mumbled how Eadith was a blessing and that she truly belonged with Finan, but it just never happened.

'I'm sorry,' you told Finan.

A silence fell and you all stared into the flames in front of you, as you sat under the clear night sky on a cool summer eve.

'Sihtric?' you grinned at the Dane next to you.

'I was once married,' he confessed to you, 'to a whore.'

'Y-you… what?' you snorted, 'is that true?' you looked around the campfire at the other men, who all laughed, nodded and said he was now divorced.

'You guys have lived a hundred lives it seems,' you smiled, 'and you're still single now?'

'I am,' Sihtric said with a cheeky smile.

'Interested?' Uhtred taunted.

'No, just prying into your lives,' you said, 'and what is your truth, Uhtred?'

'I have a son who believes in the nailed god,' Uhtred said, 'and I despise him for that.'

No one had a snarky remark to that, and everyone felt the energy drop around the fire. Until Finan coughed and said, 'anyway, now it's your turn, lady, spill it.'

'Don't make it a sad fact,' Osferth smiled.

'Okay, well,' you thought for a moment, 'this might be a sad fact actually,' you snorted and noticed how all the men sat up a little, focusing on you, as you were still relatively new and a mystery to them.

'In all my life,' you began, 'no man who ever humped me,' you paused, seeing three pairs of eyes grow big with anticipation, 'has been able to fully satisfy me.'

The men were quiet, and all that was heard was the crackling fire and an owl hooting in the distance. Finan's mouth fell slowly open, Osferth looked at you with raised eyebrows, Uhtred desperately tried to hold his laugh and Sihtric just smirked at you.

'You're joking, aye?' Finan eventually said, in disbelief.

'I truly wish I was,' you shrugged.

'You mean,' Uhtred laughed, 'a man never made you finish?'

'That is exactly what I mean, lord.'

'Ever?' Osferth frowned.

'You men are just selfish,' you chuckled, 'once you're done, you think we are done. When in reality, we weren't even close.'

All the men abruptly muttered and defended themselves, saying they were good lovers and the women they had been with had never complained, which started an argument among the men and they soon already forgot about your confession. You laughed and rolled your eyes, then took a sip from your cup as you felt Sihtric's eyes on you. You turned your head and met his gaze. He was not arguing with the others, instead, he raised his eyebrow and gave you a cocky look. Which you didn't mind, because in truth, the Dane had caught your attention since you first met him a little while ago, but it was only during this trip that you got to know him a little better.

You had patched Sihtric up a few times. You had soon found out that the pretty boy was a little clumsy, and often tripped over his feet, or simply slipped and fell down a track in the forest, earning a few cuts and bruises. But as clumsy as he was during his travels, the more skilled he was on the battlefield, which had surprised you. You expected him to be completely battered and bruised after the last battle, but he only had a few cuts and minor bruises. Yet he still came to see you, pretending his wounds were near fatal, and you couldn't deny he had you wrapped around his finger, but you had him wrapped around your finger all the same. You both just played it cool and didn't make any advances. But something was different about Sihtric that night, the way he had looked at you, with that cocky look and a hint of mischief in his eyes.

As the other men argued, you kept your eyes locked on each other for a little too long, and you just knew that you and Sihtric would be the last ones to sit around the fire that night.

Everyone had gone to their tents to get a good night's rest, except for you and Sihtric, as you had expected. You both stared into what was left of the fire. The cool night air quietly filled itself with tension as Sihtric laid back, propped up on one elbow, and you lightly leaned against his shoulder.

'I bet I could treat you well,' Sihtric suddenly whispered, looking up at you.

You stared at him, an eyebrow raised, 'oh really?' you grinned.

'In fact,' Sihtric's eyes trailed down to your lips, 'I can guarantee you, by the time I'm done with you, you will be screaming my name.'

'That's a bold claim,' you scoffed.

'Would you like me to prove it to you?' Sihtric asked, smiling.

You considered his offer, but only for a split second, and then you told him that if he doesn't live up to his words, you'd never let him forget it, which he accepted.

Sihtric took your hand and pulled you into his tent, where he was fast to kiss you, slow and tender, which you didn't expect from the otherwise seemingly rough warrior, but it was a pleasant surprise. And it felt easy, almost natural, to strip each other of all clothes in between kisses. Sihtric chuckled as he looked at your figure in the dim candle light, his rough hands moving over your sides.

'I've been thinking of you ever since we met,' he smiled and pulled you down onto the soft furs with him, 'every night,' he sighed before he kissed you again.

You smiled against his lips and allowed the Dane to take full control, granting him permission to try and make you finish, for once. You had to admit that the way he kissed and touched you, definitely made you more aroused than you had ever felt before, and you figured he was off to a good start. Not much later Sihtric kissed his way down your body.

'Has a man ever finished you with his tongue?' he grinned, to which you shook your head.

Even that never happened. You saw Sihtric's eyes had darkened, and soon you felt his face between your thighs, his tongue licking you in all the right ways, in between soft kisses and sighs. Sihtric held you in place, his rough hands firmly gripping your thighs as you squirmed at the feeling of him. His tongue, his lips, his soft hums and the roughness of his facial hair was enough to bring you to your climax already.

'You want to finish, little healer?' Sihtric smirked as your moans intensified.

'Please,' you breathed heavily, gripping his hair and forcing his mouth down on your again, 'oh, gods,' you moaned and squealed when you felt his mischievous laugh vibrate against your core.

'Guess I'll finish you twice in one night, my lady,' Sihtric chuckled.

And merely seconds later, he pushed you over the edge with his tongue. You came with a high pitched moan, your hand pulling his short hair as you arched your back, locking your legs around his neck, feeling his tongue inside you before you fell back onto the furs, completely out of breath.

Sihtric licked his lips and wiped his mouth, satisfied as he pulled away from you, moving up to take your chin in his hand, and he kissed your lips gently.

'Gods,' you laughed as the Dane smirked at you, proud of his first achievement of the night, and he pulled you up to him as he sat back.

You straddled his lap and Sihtric laced his fingers with yours, smiling sweetly before kissing your lips again.

'Did you like that?' his low, raspy voice made you lightheaded, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

'Mhm,' you hummed and nuzzled his nose softly as Sihtric trailed his hands lightly up and down your bare back, 'you made half your promise true,' you chuckled.

'Hm, don't worry,' Sihtric laughed softly, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, 'I will fulfill my entire promise, just tell me when you're ready for me.'

'I'll need a moment,' you giggled and bit down on your lip as Sihtric gave you a sweet smile and a quick understanding nod.

He gently pushed you to lay down on your back again and moved on top of you, propped up on his elbows, gently caressing both your warm cheeks with his rough thumbs. And Sihtric gazed into your eyes, which suddenly told you this was more to him than just wanting to prove he could please you. And you were right. Sihtric didn't want to just please you. He wanted to honour you and love you. Because he had been in love with you since he had met you. And tonight, even if it was just for this one night, he thought, you were finally his. And Sihtric suddenly felt overwhelmed with his love for you, taking him by surprise, and he crashed his lips into yours. He captured you in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring his love out with soft moans as his fingers moved up in your hair, tangling your locks in a firm grip. You smiled against his lips when a sudden rush of butterflies made you feel giddy, and Sihtric pulled away slightly.

'You okay?' he asked, out of breath.

'Yeah,' you sighed, 'I think I'm ready, Sihtric,' you smiled.

He exhaled sharply at your words, and moved into a slightly more comfortable position. And whereas you had expected him to fuck you like a wild savage, which you wouldn't have minded in all truth, he entered you slow and gentle, allowing you to adjust to him. You sighed at the feeling of his length inside you and you smiled at him, fully allowing yourself to fall in love with him. Even if it was, possibly, only for one night.

'Feels good for you, sweetheart?' Sihtric whispered in your ear, to which you hummed with a satisfied smile.

'I promise I'll make you finish,' he breathed as he began to thrust into you, slow and deep.

And he made tender, sweet and passionate love to you. His hand cupped your cheek as he held your hip gently with his other, grinding his sweaty, muscular body against yours, while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

And Sihtric felt your hands all over him; his back, his hips, his shoulders, his chest, and in his hair. You earned a heavy grunt from the warrior when you softly tugged his hair in pleasure, and it made your walls tighten around him.

'You feel so nice,' you moaned, 'gods, so nice.'

'So do you, my love,' he husked and pecked your lips, 'oh, my love,' he sighed, with a desperate pitch.

And then Sihtric moved his body, just slightly, suddenly taking you in that perfect angle and you threw your head back into the furs. The overwhelming sensation of your climax was approaching, and you grabbed onto Sihtric's body wherever you could, begging him for more while he kept his steady, head spinning slow pace up. And he chuckled softly when he felt you nearing your high.

'Am I good to you, darling?' he whispered in your ear, breathing heavily.

'S-so good,' you mewled, 'gods, so good. Don't stop, please, my love, don't stop,' you begged, 'I've never felt this good before.'

'I won't stop until you finish,' he purred, 'I promise,' he smiled and kissed your lips, 'come, my love, finish for me,' he whispered, brushing his lips over yours, 'I can feel that you want to.'

'Sihtric, please,' you pleaded, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

'Oh, that's it,' he moaned, slowly thrusting deep inside you, and he circled his arm around your waist, supporting you as you arched your back into him, 'that's it, darling,' he sighed, starting to struggle as his own climax approached, 'you can give it to me, you deserve to release it.'

When Sihtric leaned his forehead against yours, and bucked his hips into you once more, you finally allowed yourself to surrender to him, and to yourself. Finally feeling what it's like to be finished by a man, only seconds before you felt him spill inside you, and it was a feeling of pure bliss, which made your head spin for a long moment after Sihtric had already pulled out and cleaned you both up.

He then pulled you in his arms, covering you both up with a soft blanket, and he held you tight, occasionally pecking your skin with his lips, waiting for you to come back down from your high, while he still felt like he was in another dimension himself. After a little while you chuckled softly, to which Sihtric frowned and gave you a cheeky look.

'Care to share your amusement?'

'No, just… I can't believe how gentle you were,' you smiled, 'and… I guess I have to thank you, for this night.'

'It was all my pleasure,' Sihtric kissed your cheek, 'and if you wish to spend more nights with me,' he smiled, 'I will always welcome you.'

'But what if I might have feelings for you?' you joked, except not really, 'would that be a problem… or make things weird?'

'Lady,' Sihtric smiled, 'I've had feelings for you for a long time already.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic

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kitspindles · 1 year

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I’m in no way bashing on people who have already finished TSatS and say they hate it, are disappointed, etc., because I myself have not gone past chapter seven. My friend let me read some today, but I won’t have my own copy until Thursday, so maybe my opinions will change. I will say, however, that if you read 400+ pages in less than a day, maybe give yourself some time to process the entire plot first?

In any case, I can’t help but wonder how many people went into this book expecting one version of Nico and Will, only to be hit with something else entirely. And I mean like... expecting the fandom’s versions of these two, rather than what canon has previously shown us up until this book.

It’s my personal opinion that the PJO fandom’s worse enemy is their own mischaracterization of the characters at times. And I don’t mean like little head canons and stuff. Everyone has done those at some point. There’s usually no harm in those. I’m talking about people who created their own versions of Nico and Will and have been running with these visions for years through different fan fictions and what-not online.

For years we’ve known basically nothing about Will aside from the fact that he’s sarcastic, likes Star Wars, his mom is a country singer, he can glow in the dark, and he’s better at healing than fighting. (And he has questionable fashion choice at times). Like, that’s all we’ve had since his initial introduction in The Last Olympian over a decade ago. Everything else? Online and fan speculation. And again, there is nothing wrong with that! I just feel like a lot of people went into this book holding onto their own pre-conceived visions of what Will Solace was and ended up disappointed the authors made him... different? But not really different, because he didn’t have a lot of in-depth personality or backstory before this.

Me personally? Yeah, I’m not that far into the book yet but I’m loving how Will is portrayed so far. He’s still sarcastic, but he’s shown his fair share of level-headedness as well as frustrations just within the first couple chapters. He is in no way the overly-optimistic sunshine-y boy who only exists to help Nico that the fandom has portrayed him to be all these years. His character arc is already headed in a way deeper direction (more on that when I finish the book). The whole bit where Will had coffee spilled on him and spent the next couple paragraphs in the scene trying to be unbothered while actually giving off “This is fine” fire dog energies? I loved that.

As for Nico, can I just say I adore how he’s written in this book? Aside from his PoV in Blood of Olympus, this is the first time he’s had his own narration. And it’s actually about him and more in-depth than previous times. I’ve heard people say that he’s “out of character,” and while I can see a little of what they’re all saying, I just want to know... what version of Nico have you all been reading? Did I miss something?

Up until this book, what exactly did we know about Nico? That he’s displaced in time, his sister and mother are both dead (and he feels alone), he harbored repressed gay feelings from his upbringing as a Catholic guy in 1940s Italy, and he’s been through the ringer more than once (so, trauma, basically). Oh, and he’s a bit of a nerd (Mythomagic and knowing all kinds of ancient creatures). That’s... about it. Everything has been speculation and projection from fans.

In previous books he’s always been portrayed from first- or third-person point of view (usually from people who don’t know him well and just think he’s “creepy”), leading to the idea that he’s distant and low-empathy based on some interactions he’s had with demigods who weren’t thrilled to be around him, during a time of great pressure. But he’s not exactly uncaring. He’s been shown to care a lot, actually (Bianca, Hestia, Bob, everything he’s done for Percy, his friendship with Reyna, Hazel, etc.)

But what about when he was ten? He was an excitable, curious kid who liked to have fun. And what did we see briefly in Trials of Apollo (before Jason died, at least)? We saw some of that energy return, particularly in The Hidden Oracle.

So, yeah, I’m personally thrilled to see him making cringe-y jokes and have some self-deprecating humor. It’s very “#OnBrand” for a traumatized teenager who’s just trying to cope and live life without any godly wars forcing him this way and that. Can we really say it’s “out of character” if we’ve never seen more than one side of Nico? (The under pressure side, from other character’s PoVs, in books not about him where he’s basically been a side character?) I’m just glad to see him cracking jokes, laughing, and acting more like a normal kid.

Now, is this book different from Rick’s other ones? Uh, yeah. I won’t say it’s not. But it’s not bad. It’s supposed to be different. It has slightly different intentions than the other books (re: explicitly working through trauma and relationship bumps). Also, it’s co-written. Co-written books always read slightly off from the original author’s work, but dam if it isn’t hard to meld writing styles and copy another author’s particular voice. But I think Mark did a very good job at imitating Rick’s style (again, from what I’ve read so far).

Will I change my mind on all this the farther I get into the book? Maybe. There’s a lot to read and take in. All I’m saying is don’t let the negative reviews warp your opinion of the book if you haven’t read it yet and are on the fence if you should or not. Wait for the PDF to drop, or for a library copy, and read and see for yourself.

#nico di angelo #will solace #the sun and the star #tsats #tsats preview #tsats predictions #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #rick riordan #mark oshiro #rrverse #riordanverse #riordan universe #Read Riordan #my stuff

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tennessoui · 8 days

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18) waking up with amnesia au pretty please! I was delighted with how many of the prompts you've already done, it was a really fun bingo!

Best friends sibling = band au

knocking on the wrong door = actually name of the fic

Nanny/single parent au = Nannykin

Etc etc etc!

hello hello this was sent january 10!! hope you still want some waking up with amnesia au! this just demonstrates how long i can hold onto a prompt i have every intention of completing

(from this prompt list) (& this is the waking up with amnesia au prompt fill i did a few years ago when i first reblogged that prompt list!)

(3.5k)

(warnings: angst but not incredibly sad. more like. here there lies some future manipulation/mind fuckery because of angst established in this ficlet but not resolved in this ficlet but would be in the future)

(also warning: vader)

It is somehow both the hardest and easiest part of the day, every time.

It is easy to let his feet turn in the direction they beg to go during all his waking seconds. It is easy to allow them to lead the way. It feels as if a great and crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders the moment that he sees the pillars standing sentry at the entrance of the Halls of Healing. It is so easy to give into his body’s desire to allow it to find its other half.

It is almost harder to stay away, to pretend to be the respectful and poised Jedi master he masquerades as during those long moments of the day that he is not by Anakin’s side.

But what is infinitely harder than journeying there or keeping his distance is arriving. Is what waits for him within the Halls.

“How is he today?” he asks the moment he sees a healer—it does not matter which one these days. They must all know him by now, know the series of questions he demands answers to.

This time, the man he finds is healer Ramak, at least, one of the primary specialists on Anakin’s case. Rarely can Obi-Wan corner him. Ramak is incredibly busy both within the Temple and outside of it. He has numerous priorities.

Obi-Wan really only has one priority. Often this puts them at odds.

“Ah,” Ramak says, adjusting his robes. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan says. And then, “How is he today?” In case Ramak has missed his question.

“He is much the same, Master Kenobi,” Ramak replies. “As he was yesterday.”

Obi-Wan swallows. The words get stuck in his throat for a moment and he has to force them up past his teeth. “What does…what has he remembered?”

Healer Ramak’s face slides from reluctantly indulgent to pitying. It would grate against Obi-Wan’s rather impressive sense of pride if he did not already know exactly how pitiful he is.

“Memories are not stored within the mind chronologically, Master Kenobi,” Ramak says carefully. Obi-Wan has heard this before. Obi-Wan could recite this speech.

Obi-Wan listens to it silently anyway. Perhaps this time, Ramak will find the correct combination of words to explain his loss to him in terms he can understand. “Uncovering them again is not simply a matter of starting from the beginning of his life and moving forwards. We cannot simply recover and present him with all of his memories from age nine, from age thirteen, to now.”

Obi-Wan can feel a muscle tick in his jaw and he crosses his arms. Another healer crosses behind him, jostles him in their hurry to get to another patient. Differing priorities.

But Obi-Wan only has one.

“It is like…” Ramak trails off, thinking. “Picture the rain. What do you think of?” It is much too transparent, what Obi-Wan thinks of when he thinks of the rain. He thinks of Anakin as a youngling. The ashes of Qui-Gon’s body had not fully cooled before the skies of Naboo had broken open in a torrential downpour, and the boy, padawan braid that was both his and Obi-Wan’s newly weighing on his shoulder, had escaped from the palace in Theed, ran outside with arms raised up in wonder.

“When you think of rain, you do not recall your memories chronologically,” Ramak says kindly, as if he understands where Obi-Wan’s mind has gone. “That is to say, you do not immediately think of the first time you experienced it. Our minds store memories based on their significance to us, the meanings they hold for us, which makes mind-healing to this degree incredibly difficult. Not to mention, not only was Knight Skywalker stripped of his memories, tortured, and indoctrinated, he was held for several months. Long enough for new neural pathways to form, new connotations and memories to take the place of the ones he lost.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan says. When he holds up his hand to forestall the other man’s words, it is shaking slightly. “Please just tell me.”

Will he recognize me?

Will he hate me?

Will another day go by where he does not know me?

“He has a long way to go yet,” Ramak says finally, lifting his hand to stroke over his beard. “His time as Vader left scars—”

“His time captured,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He was a hostage.” Ramak looks at him. Anakin, kidnapped by the sith, without his memories, trained to be deadly and taught to Fall, was more than a hostage. They both know that. Everyone in the galaxy knows the dangers that Darth Vader represented to the Republic.

Very few know that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. It had been a terrible surprise. It had been the sweetest sort of relief too, to find him at all.

“Yes,” Ramak finally allows. “His time as a hostage left innumerable scars, Obi-Wan. Even after he regains all his memories, he will have a long journey ahead of him.”

“How is he?” Obi-Wan repeats, even though it is rather rude to cut the healer off. “How is he today?”

Ramak hesitates for a moment and then another, and his Force signature tenses as if at war with itself. “He requested to see you,” he finally says. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. The Jedi saved Anakin Skywalker from the Sith five weeks ago, and though Obi-Wan has spent each of those days trekking from his quarters to the Halls of Healing and back, accousting various healers and Council members alike, desperate for any information they can give him…he has not yet been able to sit beside Anakin. He has not been allowed to talk with him at all.

It is for the best. That is what he’s been told and that is what he must believe. It is for the best. Anakin does not remember him. He remembers the word master—he does not remember that he used to say the same word with respect. With affection. He does not remember Obi-Wan at all.

He remembers his master, Sidious. He remembers his master on Tatooine. He does not—Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why he cannot remember him.

Anakin has never once asked to see him.

“I want to see him,” Obi-Wan says immediately, turning towards the wing where they are keeping Anakin.

“Master Kenobi, it is not a good idea,” Ramak says, but it does not matter what they think is a good idea. It is what Anakin wants and it has been so long since Obi-Wan has been something Anakin wants.

Something of what he’s feeling must flash across his face, because the healer sighs and rubs at his forehead as if he finds the whole ordeal incredibly trying.

“I will not hurt him,” Obi-Wan says quickly, and Ramak shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides.

“That is not the concern, Master,” he replies, but his shoulders have slumped. His forehead is wrinkled, but his Force signature has relaxed. He has given in. Obi-Wan has won. “I—”

But Obi-Wan has won. And so he has already stepped away, intent now on seeing his padawan. He leaves the healer behind where he stands, pushing through the doors of the wing and finally—finally to Anakin’s room.

He’d been so volatile at first, when he was still Vader. The Jedi rescuing him probably felt more like being captured. Without his memories of the Order, of the Temple, of Obi-Wan, he’d Fallen so quickly as far as anyone knows. Sidious had taken him and twisted him and when he was found again, he’d fully believed in the Sith doctrine. He’d killed two Jedi before he was subdued.

So when he’d been brought into the Temple, into the Halls of Healing, they’d outfitted him with Force suppression cuffs. Given him his own room in order to protect the other patients.

Obi-Wan knows he still wears the Force bracelets and collar, but there’s knowing and then there’s seeing.

The seeing part takes his breath away. It looks so wrong, Anakin, his Anakin, wearing the cuffs and the collar.

Anakin, his Anakin, with yellow eyes watching him intently from the moment he enters the room.

“Anakin,” he murmurs, a reflex. The sounds are punched out of him.

He is thinner. His hair is greasy. There are dark shadows under his eyes. The skin around the collar is red, rubbed raw. He looks a thousand times older. Guant and hollowed out as if the captivity and the Darkness has leached away all of his youthful energy.

“Master,” Anakin says reproachfully. And it sounds—it sounds so much like him, like Obi-Wan’s Anakin, that he has the rather ridiculous urge to cry. Master, master.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asks, though it is a useless sort of question. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. What to do with his tongue. He suddenly cannot remember the last time he asked Anakin how he was feeling. It was never a phrase that was part of their lexicon—for so many years, they shared a training bond. Obi-Wan was able to ascertain his padawan’s emotions with a gentle Force touch across the planes of his mind. More often than not, he was telling Anakin to search his own feelings. He was not asking him to interpret them for Obi-Wan’s sake.

Now though, their bond is severed and Anakin does not recognize him as anything more than another Jedi, another man who he once called master, and Obi-Wan stands across the room from him and does not recognize him either, save for all the ways that he does.

“Surely they have been giving you updates,” Anakin murmurs. “I know you have visited every day.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says because he will not lie to Anakin. He doesn’t think he remembers how. It has been—so long. Since he has last seen him. It is all he can do to stay standing now. To keep a respectable distance between them. To not fall to his knees. To not stumble forward and take Anakin’s hand in his own.

“What have they told you?” Anakin asks, and he tilts his head slightly. His golden eyes are as disconcerting as they are beautiful. They’re his. They’re his eyes, set in his face, and Obi-Wan has missed that face for so long. For months. He’d thought he’d never see it again, and he is just now realizing that he has no defenses left against Anakin. None at all. The boy could ask him for anything and he would fight to the death to give it to him.

The Force is in flux in the air around them, bucking up, riled, in a way Obi-Wan usually interprets as danger. But the Force could be screaming a death knell and Obi-Wan, in this moment, would only be able to hear a sweet cry of wild joy.

Anakin, this is Anakin. This is his Anakin and he is here. Back—partially. Back, incompletely. But back. Obi-Wan…he’d stopped hoping he’d ever get him back.

Instead of answering his question, he presses the backs of his fingers against his mouth to try and stop their shaking. Every day he has walked here, accosted the healers, demanded to know the latest. And he has never once realized how incredibly difficult it would be to lay eyes on Anakin. How incredibly difficult it would be to maintain his composure, to hold himself in.

Anakin’s eyes glow gold, but Obi-Wan’s eyes are that of a starving man. All he can see is honey.

“Come here, master,” Anakin says, reproachful. “Did you not miss me?”

The words move him forward where his own feet could not. “Of course I did, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. Hoarse, too hoarse. Too trembling and old, but it has been so many months. He had thought him lost forever. Dead and gone and one with the Force, and for the first time in his life, that had given him no comfort.

Anakin holds out his mechno hand, palm up, fingers slightly crooked. He’d built them that way on purpose, Obi-Wan remembers. At fourteen, he’d broken his index and middle finger in a duel, bones shattering under the blow of another padawan’s sabor. A lucky hit, an unlucky outcome. Though they’d healed near perfect due to bacta, they’d always remained slightly bent out of place. When he lost his arm to Dooku five years later, he’d fiddled with the replacement until the mech digits tilted the same familiar direction.

Obi-Wan stares at them, caught up in the tide of the memory.

Had Vader ever looked down at his mechno hand and wondered about the imperfection? Had he thought to fix it once he had the time? Had he spared a thought for the black spots in his memory, the cavernous gaps in his past?

His fingers fall to rest against the sensors of the mech tips. They’re sensitive enough that he can see Anakin shiver at the touch.

“Did you not miss me, master?” Anakin asks again, and his hand closes around Obi-Wan’s tightly, pulling him forward another few steps.

Obi-Wan nods, then shakes his head. Yes, he missed him. No, missing—missing is not a vast enough word.

“You asked for me,” he hears himself say. “Do you—what do you….”

Do you remember me?

You must. You call me master. And you want me close.

But they pulled the memories of the word master from your mind days ago, and you hated me then. You did not want me near you. What has changed? What have you remembered?

“I wonder if they would treat any patient like this,” Anakin says. He uses his hold on Obi-Wan to pull him even closer, til his thighs brush the edge of the bed. “If it is the war that makes me special, if it’s my own power. Or if it’s you.”

Obi-Wan tenses. Him? He doesn’t—

“They’ve tried everything they can think of to trigger my memories of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin says. When Obi-Wan tries to move back, take a step away, find the air in the room to breathe, Anakin tightens his hold and pulls him forward until the only option is to either topple over onto his padawan’s chest or sit on the bed at his hip.

He sits.

“They debated for many days, you know,” Anakin says. His mech thumb begins to sweep over the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “If they should trigger the connections my mind has made to the word master. It’s a weighted word for Anakin Skywalker. Surely you know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan says carefully. When he tries to breathe, he can only do so shallowly as if his entire chest has shrunk to half its capacity.

“He was enslaved before he was a padawan,” Anakin explains as though Obi-Wan has not spoken at all. Maybe he hasn’t. For the past several months he has not been able to speak to Anakin aloud, could only talk with him in his mind—could never hear a reply. Perhaps he has forgotten how. “They were worried that after ten years studying under you, after two years fighting side by side with you, my strongest connotations to the word master would still be to slavery.”

Anakin ducks his head slightly, tilts it to the side to give Obi-Wan a small, private grin, as if the healers’ concerns are so unfounded that they are amusing. As if the concept that something could outweigh Obi-Wan’s importance to Anakin is so foreign and preposterous that it’s funny.

His smile knocks into Obi-Wan’s chest like a punch to the solar plexus.

“But they decided to risk it,” Anakin says. His voice is light as a feather. Airy and unconcerned. “Perhaps they should have started with smaller things. A light saber. A braid. A pear. A planet. But they wanted to re-establish my firmest conneciton to the Light as quickly as possible. And they thought that was you.”

Obi-Wan holds his breath, eyes leaping from their connected hands to the yellow of Anakin’s eyes. He has still fallen. He has not been healed. He is still—he is still—

“So they gave me back my masters,” Anakin pitches his voice low. “All of them, though I suppose I remember Sidious well enough. But they gave me back the Toydarian. And they gave me you.”

“They said you did not want to see me,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Why, Anakin, if you remember, why would you—”

“Because I hate you,” his padawan says as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. “Because they could give me back Master Kenobi, but wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, it was not in your title. He hated your title.”

Obi-Wan flinches back so violently that his forearm slips from Anakin’s grasp. Before he can move from the bed completely though, his padawan’s hand lashes out and curls around the fabric of his tunics.

“No,” Obi-Wan says because he must deny this—he cannot stand to hear it and not deny it. No, Anakin—there was love there, in the way he pronounced the word master. The way he looked at Obi-Wan: admiration shining in his eyes when he was younger, cooling off over the years into acceptance and affection. They had their arguments. They had their—misunderstandings, but Anakin did not resent him for his role in his life as his old teacher. His master. “You’re wrong.”

“He hated it more than he hated his actual slave master,” Anakin murmurs. Lightly, airily. As if his words are not landing devastating blows on all of Obi-Wan’s softest spots. “Do you know why?” “I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan whispers because he doesn’t because he can’t. Because he’d have known. Because this is Anakin, this is his Anakin, but there are still cavernous dark spots and gaps in his mind. This is not entirely his Anakin. He is still missing things. Thousands upon thousands of memories and moments and learned contexts and—

“I think you know why,” Anakin says as if he has not spoken. Funny, as Obi-Wan had thought he was screaming.

“I assure you I do not,” he snaps, spitting the words out as quickly as he can so that his voice cannot break between the syllables.

“Because Anakin Skywalker believed til the day he died that if you had not been his master, you would have allowed him to kiss you. To take you. To be taken by you. Don’t you remember, Master Kenobi?” Obi-Wan tears himself away from the bed, from the boy in it. Just a boy. Not a man. Not when he was seventeen and drunk for the first time, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pressing his face into his chest, whining and begging and pleading—and not when he was eighteen either, bold and staring at Obi-Wan's lips, not when he was nineteen, on the verge of his Knighting ceremony and demanding to be given into.

Just a boy, just his boy. But never—never anything else.

“Like I said,” Anakin but not Anakin murmurs. Anakin, but Vader too. “Wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, they have not yet been able to find it in my mind. I can only assume he loved you at all.”

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes over the familiar face, the beloved face. The stranger’s face. If it were anyone else sitting before him, he’d have a retort already on his tongue. He’d have raised his shields, gone on the offensive. There are few people left in the galaxy that can land a blow on him, and many have tried.

But this is not anyone. This is Anakin. This is his Anakin and this is something for which he has no defenses prepared.

“How ashamed did you make him feel for loving you, master?” Vader asks, tilting his head in cruel curiosity. “That he compressed all of it into something so small that a whole Temple of healers have been unable to find it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps and this time he does not get the words off his tongue quick enough. His voice breaks in the middle of the demand, ribs cracking and parting to reveal the heart of him. “Not if—” not if you do not know what it means for him. For me. For us.

“Why not?” Vader says, and he raises his flesh hand to tuck a piece of greasy hair behind his head before allowing his fingers to fall to rest against his collarbone, ghosting against the Force suppression collar around his neck as if it’s a diamond encrusted necklace. “After all, am I not wearing your chains, master?”

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #vaderwan #so you know vader's number one priority is going to be to manipulate obi-wan into freeing him #because he can probably remember a little bit of anakin's love for obi-wan #it's not as gone as he says #but he also probably remembers the obsession with his master first #and that's tinted even darker by being a sith now #so within the next few weeks his priorities shift from torturing obi-wan for sport #to wanting him to free him so that he can kidnap him and keep him #and get away from the temple and all the memories the jedi are trying to give back to him #he doesn't want those #he wants obi-wan kenobi #hate and love and all

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

Father Figures, pt. 2

I swear it was a one-shot. But then my hand slipped and "oh oops there's Wayne". You can access part 1 here. This is rated m btw. The full version will be available on ao3 (my first time posting on there...) which is linked here. Anyway, enjoy :)

The first time Wayne Allen Munson meets Steve Harrington is in a hospital room. Sure, he has seen and heard about the kid in passing. It was hard not to in a town like Hawkins. With the kind of money his old man has and the pretty face his mother parades around, the Harringtons become a sort of household name. Especially in Wayne's household.

See, Wayne may not be much of a talker, but his nephew sure is. Especially when he gets angry about something. And boy did Steve Harrington make his Eddie mad. During Eddie's first time around with Senior Year, Steve's name comes out of that boy's mouth so often that if not for that tone of his, he would have thought the kid had a crush on him.

Actually, Wayne regretfully asks at one point if he does have a crush. Wayne finds out pretty quickly that Eddie doesn't, which isn't the problem nor why he regrets asking. The problem is apparently at that very moment in time, Eddie hasn't exactly come out to Wayne. The boy shakes so much that Wayne is afraid that Eddie might cause an earthquake. Wayne has to calm Eddie down and explain very carefully he doesn't care, he's his kid no matter what. Eddie cries, and asks "Dad, what made you think to just casually bring that up?"

Wayne shrugs and simply says "Didn't think it was a secret."

Eddie lets out a wet laugh. Wayne doesn't mention how it's the first time since Eddie showed up on his doorstep that he calls him Dad.

His heart swells.

So, with absolutely no crush in sight god Wayne he's an asshole, Steve's name is brought up quite often.

"Steve Harrington just parades himself around like he's a king."

"Steve Harrington just stands there while Tommy continues to be a piece of shit. Worse, he acts like he's bored."

"Girls just hang off of Harrington, he's even got Nancy Wheeler on his arm now. What a prick, thought she was smarter than that."

"Looks like Harrington got the shit kicked out of him by Byer's. You gotta love Karma sometimes."

Wayne watches Eddie frown at the last one before saying, "Kinda gotta back Steve up on the pictures though. That was creepy."

Eddie shakes his head then continues to rant "But smashing his camera? Dick move. Doesn't understand what it's like to be poor."

Wayne is still not completely convinced it's not a crush.

Wayne Allen Munson seems to know all about Steve Harrington before he actually has the chance to meet him. None of which he has learned makes Steve seem all that good.

Imagine Wayne's surprise when he finds the Harrington boy next to his son's hospital bed.

"What're you doin' here?" Wayne asks, startling Steve from his chair. Wayne watches as he hops up from the ground, straightening himself out.

"Sorry sir, I was just uh, keeping him company. The kid's families won't let them out of their sight and Dustin wanted him to have a familiar face with him if, sorry when he wakes up. Because we weren't sure we were allowed to grab you yet. So I volunteered to stay with him, seeing as I don't have a job anymore, and well I sort of feel responsible for Eddie now. And, god I am hanging out with Robin too much because I am rambling. Sorry, Sir. "

Wayne raises an eyebrow at him. He has seen Steve around town before, hard not to in a small place like Hawkins. Eddie points him out once, scoffing at his perfect hair and holier-than-thou attitude. Wayne originally is prepared to yell at him. The sight of a boy who looks very much like the very ones who hunted his Eddie down just a few days ago ignites something protective within him. Hearing this boy ramble though, flustered and making himself hopelessly small in front of Wayne, makes him hesitate.

"Boy, I don't know half-em names you're sayin' right now. I do recognize that kid Dustin though, ya know him?"

Steve nods his head up and down, "He's like my brother sir. Our brother." He looks down towards Eddie's bed.

Wayne avoids looking at his boy and chooses to look directly at Steve. "Well, he's a good kid. Came to me when Ed was missing, at the school. Told me he was a hero, and that he'll be missed. Guess now it was probably cause he wasn't sure if he was gonna make it and didn't want to get my hopes up. Don't know what made him change his mind either when he found me again today, told me they had him here."

Steve's face softens as Wayne talks about Dustin. Wayne pushes on, "If that kid trusts you, I don't got a reason not to trust you either. Well, until Eds here wakes up at least. He can tell me otherwise."

"Okay, Sir." Steve makes his way to move around Wayne and leave. Wayne grabs him by the wrist to stop him, and Steve flinches. Wayne decides to file that away for later and lets him go.

"No need to leave kid. And stop calling me sir. I'm not your old man. "

Steve's lips lift a little bit like Wayne just brought up an inside joke he isn't a part of. "Okay, sir—I mean Wayne. Okay, Wayne."

Steve and Wayne sit side by side next to Eddie. It's then Wayne finally looks down at his kid. He can't help but the rush of tears that come up at the sight of him. He is paler than usual, curls flat and dirty, tubes coming out of every part of him.

"My boy." He chokes.

Steve thankfully stays silent as Wayne weeps. They sit for a while in silence before Wayne asks, "You gonna tell me what happened?"

Steve, who Wayne doesn't point out has bloodshot eyes, says "You going to believe me?"

Wayne simply returns "I'm willing to try."

So Steve tells him. Tells him everything that has happened over the last week. Tells him of monsters and other worlds. How it isn't the first time, how it is hopefully the last. How scary it is for them. How Eddie is stupid but incredibly brave. How Eddie barely makes it. How Steve will be the first to yell at him when he wakes up.

Wayne listens carefully through the whole thing and can't help but think of how fond Steve sounds when Eddie's name comes up. This isn't the boy Eddie once spoke of. Albeit, it has been a long time since Eddie's spoken his name. Wayne isn't used to tigers changing their stripes though. It's a pleasant surprise he doesn't comment on.

Wayne rubs his thumb across Eddie's hand. "How did he get out? If he was practically dead?"

"Oh, I carried him Sir."

Wayne's head snaps to Steve. "What?"

Steve shrinks a bit, "Sorry I mean Wayne. Sorry I didn't mean to disrepe—"

Wayne cuts him off, "Dammit kid, I'm not mad at that. I'm not mad at all. It's just—you saved him. You carried him out of what I can only understand is what I think hell is, and you didn't think to mention that when I first saw you?" Wayne looks at Steve for a moment. Really looks at him. He's in clean jeans and a polo, but that's where his old persona ends. When Wayne looks at him closely, he can see the dark bags under his eyes, the purple bruising all over his body, and the angry red scar around his neck. Steve looks exhausted, physically and emotionally. Steve looks like a boy, desperately trying to be a man. He looks like a soldier after war.

"It's not a big deal. I did what anyone else would do."

Wayne shakes his head. "Steve. That's just the thing, I'm pretty sure no one else woulda done that. And even if they would, it doesn't make what you did any less important. So, thank you."

Steve's eyes mist a bit when Wayne says "it doesn't make what you did any less important." He looks away from Wayne and just nods.

"Okay?"

"Okay, Sir. Okay, Wayne."

---

When Eddie wakes a few days later, after a night of breathing on his own without the tubes, he interrupts Steve and Wayne's conversation on the Chicago Cubs, and says "Dad?"

Wayne is up in an instant, crowding his boy's face. "Oh, Eds. I am so glad yer alright. You scared me."

"Mmm sorry," Eddie mumbles nuzzling Wayne's chest. He then looks up towards Steve, who is watching the interaction between the two men. "Harrington?"

Steve leans forward on his elbows, and chokes out "I told you not to be cute."

Eddie giggles, his tears reflecting Steve's "Sorry big boy, can't help what you're born with."

Steve looks up at the ceiling with a wet laugh. It eventually turns into a deep sob. The only other time Wayne witnesses Steve break like this over the past few days is when he's reunited with Hopper. "You shithead, you're not allowed to be funny right now. Don't. Don't do that again. Okay? You really scared us." Wayne can hear Steve's unspoken you really scared me.

Eddie's tears are rushing down his face now. "I'm sorry Steve. I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. Just—next time, don't let there be a next time. Okay?" Steve's not making much sense to Wayne as he leans his head on Eddie's bed face down.

Eddie seems to get it though. He hesitantly strokes Steve's head with his fingers. "Okay, Stevie. I promise. Now, get some sleep. It's your turn, I've had enough."

Steve's shoulders sag as he gives in. Wayne shares a look with Eddie, and Wayne knows right there they have the same thought.

They've collected another stray.

———

When Eddie is home, Steve becomes a regular occurrence in their newly acquired government-funded house. He helps a lot the first month especially. Takes Eddie and the Mayfield girl to and from physical therapy. Cooks dinner on the nights Wayne works (which is most nights) and makes sure to have leftovers specifically labeled for Wayne. Keeps both Wayne and Eddie company when one of their stress becomes too much for the other. Steve's even there on the nights the nightmares get bad. Spends his time on the couch until Eddie wakes up screaming, and calms him back to sleep so Wayne doesn't worry about him at work. Or so Wayne can get a full night when he's off.

Steve's there so often enough, that when one night he isn't, Wayne's concerned.

"You're going to pace a hole into the floor boy." Wayne looks at Eddie in their living room from the couch. Wayne doesn't tell Eddie he's concerned too. Doesn't think it would help much.

"I'm sure he's just held up, or got plans Eds. Not like he was plannin' on coming here tonight."

Eddie stops and faces Wayne, biting his thumbnail instead. "Sure we didn't have plans. But Steve's been here every day for the past month Wayne. And when he hasn't he's called. I haven't heard from him in like 22 hours—" Wayne doesn't point out that Eddie did the actual math "—and that's weird. He doesn't do that. We don't do that."

Eddie's anxiety starts to seep into Wayne's. He can't help but think of the worst-case scenario. Car accident. A run-in with that Andy kid. His mind even jumps to when Eddie was in the hospital, and his stomach sinks. Wayne can't help it, he has grown attached to Steve.

"Why don't we call some of yer friends, yeah? Maybe they've seen your boy."

Eddie is so incredibly distressed and doesn't even rebuke Wayne calling Steve his like he usually does. "Yeah okay, good idea."

As Eddie reaches for the phone though, there is a light knock on the door. Eddie rushes to answer it.

"Steve thank god I was wondering—Oh my god sweetheart what happened?" Eddie drags Steve in and places him on the couch. It's then that Wayne sees him.

There on Steve's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana. Steve's eye is swollen, and he is breathing heavily while clutching his ribs. Wayne remains frozen and Eddie frets over Steve.

"Stevie, who did this? Where does it hurt? What can I do?"

"Eds I'm fine."

Eddie looks like he's about to yell but restrains himself. "You are most certainly not fine. Do not give me that look Harrington—"

"Oh I'm Harrington now."

"—Yes you are Harrington right now because only a Harrington would be this stubborn and ridiculous. Now tell me what happened and tell me what hurts."

Steve's resolve loosens slightly, and his head falls onto Eddie's shoulder. He lets out a painful whine, "My stomach. It—fuck—it hurts so bad Eds."

Eddie brushes his fingers through his hair and whispers to him gently. "It's okay baby, I got you."

Wayne realizes three things at once.

One, Wayne isn't sure Eddie has called Steve that before. He calls him names across the board. But baby isn't one of them. Wayne knows for a fact the two aren't together yet. They have been dancing along the line for a few weeks now. Wayne thinks about pushing the timeline along, but the boys don't seem to be there quite yet. This seems like a step in the right direction.

Two, in the past month and a half Wayne has gotten to know Steve, he realizes that the boy doesn't do well around older men. He flinches at every sudden movement Wayne makes, and won't even let him give him a pat on the back let alone a hug. Also in that time, Steve has barely gone home. Knows his parents didn't visit him at the hospital, but did come home two weeks later to make sure nothing is damaged from the earthquake. Assholes.

And three, Steve avoids the question as to what happened. Eddie seems to let it slide. Wayne doesn't give the same courtesy.

"Who did this?" Wayne says abruptly, startling Steve who seems to realize Wayne's presence only now.

"Wh-what?" Steve shakes.

"I'm not mad boy. But I'm not stupid. I know this ain't a what but a who. And I think we can both conclude who. But I'm going to ask you anyway. Who. Did. This?"

The last of Steve's resolve crumbles as Wayne puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. It is as if he hadn't known a gentle touch from a father before. Maybe he hasn't.

"My dad. He uh, we got into a fight last night. Found out how much time I was spending here, with Eddie, with the kids. He started saying how I was spending time with the wrong people. I tried to just nod and go upstairs because it was just easier to ignore him than fight him sometimes. Like what's he going to do right? He's only here a couple of days a year. But then he mentioned Robin and he called her a slur, and that said her kind was an abomination. And oh god I don't even know how he found that out Robs is going to be pissed she's been so careful—"

"Babe." Eddie squeezes Steve's hand.

"Right sorry, he just was going off about Robin. And it just set me off, I just lost it on him. How dare he talk about her that way? And I just told him that if he's got a problem with her, then he's got a problem with me too. And God Wayne, the silence that came after. It was like all the words had been sucked out of the room. Next thing I know he's grabbing me by the jaw and throwing me on the floor. And he just starts kicking me, screaming about how I am no son of his. I didn't know what to do. My mom just watched it all. I just laid there... I should have fought back—I—" Steve trails off trying to collect himself.

"When he was done he sent me to my room and told me to think about what I'm doing to this family. I just laid there all night and all day, just waiting for them to leave. I had to wait til they left for dinner tonight to get out. I can't—I can't go back there. Me and Robs were planning on moving in together next week, we made a deposit on this two-bedroom downtown, but I don't think I can spend another week there, and oh god, all my stuff is there. What have I done." Steve puts his head in his hands.

Eddie is crying with Steve by the end of it. Neither he nor Wayne comments on how Steve just came out to the both of them. It doesn't seem important at that moment. Wayne crouches down to eye level with Steve.

"You did nothing wrong. There is nothing wrong with you. You did what you had to do to survive, and even if you didn't it still wouldn't be your fault."

Wayne stands back to his full height. "Now, you can stay here until you and the bird girl have your place. Do not fight me on it. Anyway Steve, I know it's difficult right now. But I'm going to need you to let me know what you need from your house."

"What, why?"

Wayne just sighs, "I know you ain't stupid. Just tell me."

Steve seems hesitant but tells Wayne anyway.

He nods at both his boys when he speaks next. "You two stay put. I'll be back soon."

Steve and Eddie both look like they want to fight Wayne on it. Steve wants to stop him from leaving at all, and Eddie probably wants to stop him from going without him. They both smartly stay silent.

"Okay, Uncle Wayne."

"Okay, Wayne."

———

Later, Wayne comes back with three duffle bags and bruised knuckles.

Steve hugs him without a second thought.

———-

A few days pass and the three of them are in the kitchen when Eddie asks. "Did ya tell hop?"

Steve snorts in his coffee. "Hell no."

Wayne can't help his curiosity as he watches the both of them across the table.

"Steve, you have to tell Hop. He's going to find out anyway." Eddie pushes as he puts an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee.

"No I don't. He'll just flip out, there is no good reason to tell him."

Eddie puts his hands on his hips. It reminds Wayne of Steve the past couple of times he's seen him around the kids. "I can think of one good reason. He's practically your dad. And I'm pretty sure your Dad would want to know what your old man did to ya."

Wayne can't help but hum in agreement. He knows if Eddie's old man comes around, he wants to be the first to find out.

Steve looks at Wayne briefly before saying, "No he's not. He's just like that with everyone."

"No, he's not. With El? Yea, that's his daughter. Maybe even Will. But not with anyone else. Except you. Why do you think I'm afraid of him?"

Steve gives him a look, "Cause he's an ex-cop Eds."

"Please that doesn't scare me. Didn't scare me when he was an actual cop either."

Wayne isn't sure that's entirely true. He remembers a very specific incident of Eddie tripping over his laces to get away from Jim.

Eddie carries on, "No, he scares me 'cause he's your dad, and I know he'll hang me by my toenails if I so much as make you cry. So yea, I think you should let him know. Besides, we both know he's going to be way more pissed when he finds out from literally anyone else. And we both know he will because you told Robin, who definitely told Nancy, who probably told Joyce, and you can see where I am heading with this."

Steve throws his head back and groans. "He's going to full government name me when he finds out."

Eddie lets out a manic giggle, "Ooo, you never told me what your full name is. Now you gotta tell me, Stevie."

Steve gives Eddie an exasperated look, "It's Steven James Harrington."

It's now Eddie's turn to groan. "Of course, you have his name. Well, I guess it's better than Richard. Hop must love that. Was kinda hoping you had my name or something."

Wayne makes a mental note to talk to Jim himself. Knows Steve will avoid it. But Wayne's got to make sure someone is looking after Steve when he can't. Wayne's been meaning to thank the man anyway. For all his done for Eddie. And now, for all he's done for Steve.

"Want me to make you feel better Eds?" Steve says with a smirk.

"Please. I'm not sure if I can go on any further with the torture of knowledge that contains your middle name."

"Hopper's middle name is Edward."

The scream of joy Eddie lets out nearly punctures what's left of Wayne's hearing.

———

By midsummer, the boys are an item. They haven't said anything to Wayne but he can tell. One day, the boys come back from their friend's weekly dinner holding hands. So they didn't have to tell Wayne. Not really.

It is just that, Wayne has gotten to know Steve Harrington over the past few months. He has gotten to know him as "Friend Steve" and "Brother Steve", and even after one intense game night, "King Steve". Wayne has a feeling though that "Boyfriend Steve" is different. As much as he likes the boy, his kid comes first. Wayne feels he needs to give Steve a talk.

The problem is he can't really give him a talk if neither of them has really told him. He has made that mistake once with Eddie, assuming, he won't be making it again.

So Wayne waits. And waits. And waits. And just as he is thinking he might never get the verbal confirmation from the two, he gets the image clear as day of what the two are on a Tuesday when he gets to go home early from work.

It's just not in the way he expects or wants.

Wayne can't really blame the boys. They didn't know Wayne would be coming home early, it was a surprise to Wayne himself. So they probably didn't think that anyone would be coming around the Munson household on Tuesday at midnight.

That doesn't make the situation any less scarring.

See, Wayne Allen Munson wasn't a god-fearing man. He can't be with what his Eddie had been through. But he can't help but think this is some sort of cosmic punishment when he gets home and hears moaning.

Wayne stands there in the foyer as a loud, "Yes baby just like that" and "Oh god, harder" and even the unfortunate "You're so tight, it's like you were made for me."

Wayne thinks god might be laughing at him. Wayne can't really go upstairs and stop them. They are both adults and he feels that having an image of what they are doing would be substantially worse than the noises.

Wayne decides to put some earplugs in (which thankfully cut off the noise, since his age made him half deaf anyway), sat in his armchair, and waits it out.

About an hour later (jesus an hour later) Steve comes downstairs to the kitchen in only his boxers. He doesn't seem to notice Wayne. His head is in the freezer when Wayne decides to clear his throat loudly.

Steve slams his head in fright and whips around with an icepack in his hand. "Oh shit."

"Oh shit is right."

All the color drains from Steve's face. "How much did you hear?"

Wayne appreciates that Steve cuts right to the chase. "Enough." He knows he can explain to the boy that he didn't really hear that much, and the earplugs are firmly in his hands as evidence, but he decides to torture Steve.

Just a little bit, can't have him too comfortable.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Munson, I—"

Wayne cuts him off. "No need to apologize, just as long as you boys are being safe that's all I care about. No that ain't what I want to talk to you about."

Steve visibly swallows as he sits across the counter from Wayne. "What about then?"

"Look, I'm awfully happy for the two of you. It's about time you boys got your shit together—"

Steve lets out a small laugh at the comment. Wayne continues. "—but I need to make things clear with you Steve. You hurt my kid, I hurt you. Eds has been through a lot. Not just with the whole spring break situation. I mean his whole life. He bounced around from place to place until he landed on my doorstep. He's used to giving his all, and not getting much in return. Eddie loves with his whole chest, and he doesn't know how to do it any other way. You better make sure you're worthy of it because I am not sure anyone is...including me. You're pretty damn close though, I know it. I can see it. You're a good person. But that boy is my whole world. I know where to hide a body if need be."

Wayne expects Steve to cower in fear, but instead, he smiles softly at him. "Don't worry. I'll dig the grave myself. I'll try my best not to hurt him, sir. I can't promise much, but I can promise I'll love him every day without fail."

"You tell him that yet kid?"

Steve shakes his head, "No. I think soon though sir."

Wayne nods feeling satisfied. "Good, and enough of this sir crap I thought we've been over this."

"Okay, Wayne."

"Better. Now, who's the ice pack for? You or him, because I don't want to have to grab the shovel outta the shed tonight."

Steve's blush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. "Uuuh, for me sir. I mean Wayne."

"Good. Go grab my son for me now will ya?"

Steve stutters, "Wh-what? Why?"

"Just go grab 'em."

Steve runs upstairs and brings down a smug-looking Eddie. Wayne's sure Steve gave him the rundown of what he heard, and Eddie doesn't appear to be ashamed like Steve had the smarts to do.

Little shit.

"Sorry Wayne didn't know you were home. Was that what you wanted to talk about?"

Wayne looks from Steve to Eddie, before narrowing his eyes at the latter. "Nope. It's your turn."

"My turn?" Eddie's confident face turns confused while Steve's flashes surprise.

"Yea kid your turn." Wayne contemplates for a second what to say, but knows in the end that Eddie will get the message loud and clear from one sentence alone.

"You hurt him—" Wayne turns to point at Steve, before facing Eddie again "—I hurt you. Got it?"

All the color drains from Eddie's face. That's the reaction he is looking for.

"Got it." Eddie grabs Steve's hand to make his way back upstairs. Before they are completely out of sight, Steve catches Wayne's eye. The boy looks softer than he did before. He looks like he wants to say something but settles on,

"Goodnight Wayne."

"Goodnight Steve."

———

Steve doesn't ask Wayne about that night until months later in October. Wayne is on the couch with a beer when Steve walks in (he has the key Eddie gave him in September). "Eddie's not here right now. Think he's running late with band practice."

"Oh I'm sorry. I can come back later." Steve stands awkwardly in the doorway.

"Don't be silly come sit. I'm just watching the game. It's no cubs considering they didn't make it far, but it's still a good game."

Steve nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch. Since spring break, Wayne and Steve have built a friendship of sorts. Steve still shows signs of apprehension in the first few seconds, but the conversation becomes an easy flow after a while. They usually talk about sports, cars, or cooking. All stuff Wayne enjoys but Eds won't show the slightest interest in. It's nice, to have someone to share this stuff with.

Today they mostly talk about the game on tv and Eddie's habit of running late. It's after a particularly funny joke about Eddie being late to his own birth that Steve asks, "Hey Wayne, can I ask you something?"

"Ya just did kid."

"God, you sound like Eddie."

Wayne chuckles, "Sure Steve. Shoot."

"Why did you talk to Eddie too? About the whole, hurting each other stuff? I mean Eddie's your kid, and I'm just the guy who gets to spend time with him." Steve waves his hands around, it reminds Wayne of Ed.

"Well, I love ya both," Wayne says easily while he takes a sip of his beer, like it isn't hard to say. And it isn't really. It was quite simple to Wayne. Just like Eddie, Steve might not be his kid by blood but he is close as he can come.

"Oh." Steve takes a deep breath, as if he is holding back tears, and says "Thanks, Wayne. I love you too."

Wayne almost mistakes the pain as Steve's voice as reluctance. The happiness that shines in his eyes says something else. Says he doesn't hear that from fathers very often. Says he hopes Wayne means it.

He does mean it.

Eddie walks in the doorway to find the two men silently staring at each other, and Steve close to tears. "Well hello there my lovely family how are—Wayne what did you do to Steve? Did you yell at him? I promise the bruise on my face was from dropping a wrench while trying to fix the van. Nothing else." Eddie pulls Steve up and squishes his face between his hands. "What did he say to you, baby?"

Steve shakes his head and laughs lightly at Eddie's antics. "Nothing bad. Promise. Happy tears."

"Happy tears?"

"Happy tears."

Eddie stares at him for long moment before deciding he believes him. "Okay. Okay. I relent." He grabs Steve's hand and throws a wave at Wayne. "Let's go upstairs though, I have to tell you about practice and how Gareth brought a boy with him! And you'll never believe what boy it was! It was our little baby Byers himself..."

Wayne hears Steve's gasp and Eddie's giggle as he continues on up the stairs. Wayne can't help the warmth that settles in his chest.

Because Wayne Allen Munson is lucky to have two wonderful boys. And he is even luckier that his two boys love each other. Because they deserve that and so much more.

———

Okay, it’s a lot I know. I just couldn’t resist. I wanted to write Steve and Wayne too. I think this one is less sad and more funny but I think that kind of speaks for the kind of relationship the two of them would have. Also it contains much more steddie than the last one. I’m thinking about maybe writing a part 3 with Steve’s relationship with the kids and how he’s their father figure? But for now it ends here. Also this took me like two days to write? I’m sorry for any mistakes or rushed parts. I am one woman show. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

Also I have finally posted on ao3!!! Can’t believe it, I’ve been so nervous about it especially because I am still without a beta. But this felt long enough to put there and I wanted to be able to share with more people.

access part. 1 here and ao3 here

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diorkyeom · 2 months

Text

「✦」 oh, how i adore you

joshua x dokyeom, non-idols, fluff, angst, humour, mutual pining, friends to lovers, inspired by the song 'jump then fall' by taylor swift

total word count: 22.2k+

warnings: adults drinking alcohol near the beginning, seokmin is scared of heights? but hes good at dealing w it, overuse of "shua hyung"s bc seokmin is a Simp, kissing

summary: "and joshua... well, joshua had realised something. seokmin's laugh was, without a doubt, one of the best sounds that he had ever heard." - in which joshua never really realised that he'd fall for seokmin, but always has and always will do anything for him. and perhaps that should have been his first sign that he'd well and truly fallen for seokmin a long, long time ago.

notes: it's here!! vv heavily inspired by that one lyric in ms. swift's song that goes "without a warning/i realise your laugh is the best sound i have ever heard" bc it's just sooo seoksoo coded. pls b kind to the fic bc it actually took me forever to write lmaoo and enjoy ^^

The day Joshua fell in love with Seokmin started out like any other.

Well, no. That was a lie. But with friends like Joshua’s, it was impossible for any day to be classed as ‘ordinary’.

On the day he fell in love with Seokmin, he woke up to someone poking him in the shoulder.

Which was weird, because Joshua lived by himself, and his first thought was that it was some intruder coming to murder him as he slept. He couldn’t find it within him to be scared about that, though, still in a mostly-asleep state as the bony finger continued to poke him incessantly right in the shoulder bone.

He was too tired to be dealing with this. Trying to bury his face into his pillow, Joshua reasoned that if someone was trying to murder him, then it was highly unlikely that they’d want to wake him up first, right?

Either that, or they were an incredibly polite murderer.

“Shua hyung,” the polite murderer whined, and Joshua groaned as the familiar voice finally registered in his ears.

With a heavy sigh, because he now knew exactly who this intruder was, he let himself be manhandled up into a more upright position, propped against his headboard. His eyes were still shut, refusing to accept this disturbance to his sleep.

“Shua hyung,” the person said again, and Joshua could hear the bright amusement in his tone. “Shua hyung, it’s gone 10 in the morning. You promised me cookies.”

Defeated, Joshua blinked slowly as his shoulders were shaken back and forth, making his head loll drowsily like a doll. He squinted blearily.

“Good morning to you too, Seokmin.”

Seokmin beamed again, wide and happy as if he hadn’t just forcibly woken his hyung up and was now shaking him around like a baby rattle. He was practically sitting in Joshua’s lap, having clambered over him in order to shake his shoulders, and Joshua really was beginning to feel like nothing more than a toy doll at this point.

“Good morning, hyung!” Seokmin chirped, and sat back on Joshua’s knees, making the elder let out a small ‘oof’ at the sudden weight. “Now hurry up, you said you’d bake me cookies.”

Joshua sighed yet again. He really needed new friends.

───────────── ‘✦,

Joshua had met Lee Seokmin for the first time during his third year of university. It had been an odd encounter, but it had been an encounter brought on by one Yoon Jeonghan and so, when Joshua thought about it, by that man’s standards it hadn’t really been all that odd in the slightest.

“Joshuji,” Jeonghan had declared one afternoon, opening the door and flouncing through the small dorm into their kitchen, dragging a tall boy by his oversized hoodie sleeve behind him. “Meet the first-year that I’ve collected this year.”

Joshua, who had been peacefully sipping his fifth coffee of the day, didn’t even bat an eye at Jeonghan’s declaration. “Another one?”

Even in the present, Joshua could very truthfully admit that Jeonghan had been the sole reason he’d decided to carry on going to uni in Korea and not turn on his heel and return to the States three months after the first day.

It was because Jeonghan had had this… thing, where he liked ‘collecting’ first-years in their literature department who he wanted to take under his wing. During their first year at uni, he’d latched onto Joshua, who’d been a confused Korean-American student that Jeonghan had, for some reason, taken an immense liking to. Their second year, it had been Lee Jihoon, prickly and snappish but who had a hyper boyfriend who Jihoon stared at with hearts in his eyes.

It was a weird, almost mother hen-like act from Jeonghan, but it was a sweet habit, and Joshua had long since given up questioning anything that he did.

And so, a little absently, Joshua had turned to look over at Jeonghan’s newest adoptee, a polite smile on his face, before promptly freezing.

“Meet Lee Seokmin,” Jeonghan had said, proudly, like a mother introducing her favourite son. “Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, because goodness, Lee Seokmin really was cute.

He was biting his lips nervously, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie before Joshua finally made eye contact with him, and his eyes rounded as if surprised that Joshua had looked his way.

And then Seokmin waved, before ducking his head, as if attempting to (unsuccessfully) hide behind Jeonghan’s much shorter form. The action was so startingly cute that Joshua couldn’t help the genuine smile that tugged at his lips, giving a small wave back even if Seokmin looked too busy avoiding his gaze to see it.

“Hello,” Joshua said, and awfully, his voice managed to crack on that single word. Jeonghan stifled a snort. In an attempt to cover the awkwardness, Joshua apparently decided it was best to do something even more awkward, and stuck his hand out in Seokmin’s direction. “I’m Joshua Hong. Or, Hong Jisoo. You can call me whatever’s easiest.”

Seokmin had stared down at his hand for several seconds, confused, and Joshua wanted nothing more than to turn back time and restart this entire interaction because really, how much more embarrassing could this get?

Before he could retract his hand, trying to forget the handshake and hopefully forget the new layer of awkwardness, Seokmin leaned over and grasped Joshua’s hand, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looked up at Joshua, eyes startlingly warm and earnest.

His hair was awfully fluffy, Joshua realised suddenly. And he had big eyes.

He looked like a large, adorable puppy, if adorable puppies were tall uni students who drowned themselves in oversized hoodies.

Seokmin’s cheeks were rather flushed as he shook Joshua’s hand, eyes wide. He had a brief thought that maybe Jeonghan had chased him around their apartment block until he finally reached their floor.

Jeonghan did that sometimes.

And then Seokmin smiled, so brightly that it was like a blinding beam of sunlight, his earlier perceived shyness completely forgotten as he released Joshua’s hand and instead lunged forward to engulf the elder in a hug.

“Hello!” Seokmin chirped, arms still wrapped around Joshua’s shoulders, and when he pulled away, he was still smiling so widely that Joshua felt a little dazed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonghan hyung’s told me a lot about you. I like your eyes! Can I call you Shua hyung?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden and random bout of chatter coming from the boy, but Seokmin’s eyes were lit up with that white gold light and he was so cute that Joshua couldn’t be anything but endeared.

“Sure,” he said amusedly, and marvelled internally at how Seokmin’s eyes crinkled and he seemed to vibrate happily on the spot. “You can call me Shua hyung.”

Seokmin let out a small laugh, delighted. “Shua hyung!” he cried, and then launched himself into Joshua’s arms again, pulling him in for another hug as the elder stumbled back, arms wrapped securely around Seokmin for balance.

Jeonghan had met Joshua’s eyes over Seokmin’s shoulders, face set in a curiously indecipherable expression. When Joshua furrowed his brows, he just grinned, nodding proudly. “Seems like I chose my first-year very well.”

And, well, Joshua couldn’t say anything at that, because Seokmin still had his face buried in his shoulder and he was just so warm and friendly and also because—

Because Jeonghan might have been the tiniest bit correct.

───────────── ‘✦,

Five years later, however, as the Joshua of the present tried to stop Seokmin from drowning his cookie batter in sugar, he wondered whether Jeonghan had, instead, been very, very incorrect.

“Hyung,” Seokmin complained, when Joshua forcibly wrestled the bag of sugar out of his hands. “Hey, Shua hyung, let me help! I wanna help!”

“You can help by staying away from my poor cookies,” Joshua said firmly.

When Seokmin wilted pathetically, bottom lip jutting out in a pout, he just poked him in the cheek as he set the sugar far out of Seokmin’s reach.

“Put the pout away, Min-ah,” he said, using the affectionate nickname that always managed to make Seokmin melt and eventually agree with whatever Joshua said. ““Remember the last time I let you do what you wanted with my cookies?”

Seokmin hung his head. “I almost gave everyone food poisoning,” he muttered miserably.

“You almost gave everyone food poisoning,” Joshua agreed. “Besides, you barged into my house at 10 in the morning to demand that I make you cookies. At least let me actually make them, you know?”

Seokmin rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter as he watched Joshua pick up his wooden spoon and continue mixing the batter. “I didn’t barge in. You gave me the passcode.”

“For emergencies.”

“This was an emergency.”

Joshua shook his head. “Whatever you say, Seokmin. Whatever you say.”

“I do say!” Seokmin said, nodding vigorously. “You promised, hyung. And it’s very important that you keep your promises.”

“Because you always keep yours?”

“I do!”

“Then why haven’t you paid me back for all those times I paid for your food back in uni, hm? When you somehow forgot your wallet while going out for dinner with us?”

Seokmin opened his mouth wordlessly, frowning as Joshua chuckled at him. “Hey,” he said finally. “Don’t bring up my dark past like that.”

Joshua laughed properly, and Seokmin’s face brightened into a smile, as if an automatic response to the sound of someone’s happiness. It was kind of cute, and had Joshua laughing again, leaning over and pinching Seokmin’s cheek with a sticky hand.

“Look at you. You’re like an adorable puppy,” he said, grinning at the residue of sticky dough smeared against Seokmin’s cheek when he pulled away.

“Thanks, hyung,” Seokmin chirped. “So does that mean you’ll allow me to help?”

“No,” Joshua said bluntly, heart squeezing with something warm when Seokmin dramatically made a show of looking disappointed. He leaned over and pinched Seokmin’s other cheek, smearing more cookie dough on his skin. “Just sit there and look pretty while I bake them for you.”

Seokmin grinned, all blinding light. “You think I’m pretty?”

Joshua hummed. “Sure. Not when you have cookie dough on both your cheeks, though.”

“Hyung! You—”

Seokmin huffed, rubbing his cheeks and turning his nose up annoyedly at Joshua, before Joshua offered him a cookie dough-covered spoon not seconds later, and he instantly opened his mouth to obediently lick at it.

“You really are a puppy, huh?” Joshua shook his head, smiling, and turned back to the mixing bowl. “There. Now shh. Eat that and let me finish your oh-so important cookies.”

Was it kind of weird that Seokmin had barged into his apartment because he wanted cookies? Well, yeah, but that was the kind of friend that Seokmin was. And Joshua was the kind of friend to let him.

If Joshua thought really hard about it, there wasn’t actually any real reason for him to be making Seokmin cookies at all, though.

There was no special event coming up soon, no celebration or holiday or any reason why Seokmin couldn’t make the cookies himself (save for the fact that he may accidentally leave someone horribly incapacitated in the process).

But last night, Joshua had spent several hours on the phone to Seokmin—something which had somehow become a weekly thing for the two of them, which worried Joshua a little but only if he thought about it for too long—and inexplicably, their conversation had turned to cookies. Seokmin had whined that his favourite strawberry and chocolate chip cookies were no longer being stocked in stores, and before Joshua knew it, he’d promised to bake Seokmin those cookies as soon as he could.

Honestly, the things he did for Seokmin.

Joshua looked over at Seokmin again, who had somehow managed to hop up onto his kitchen counter and was now swinging his legs like a little child, chattering mindlessly while watching Joshua make his cookies for him, and he couldn’t hide the exasperatedly endeared smile that tugged at his lips.

Joshua was always doing things for Seokmin, really. He should start making the guy pay for his services.

Probably.

Seokmin made a delighted noise when Joshua scooped him another spoonful of cookie dough to eat, and Joshua tried not to think too much about why Seokmin’s joy made him feel light too.

“There we go,” Joshua announced, setting down a plate of still-warm, home baked strawberry and chocolate chip cookies onto the table, along with a glass of milk. “Your cookies. Now eat.”

Seokmin lit up, and positively beamed up at Joshua, clasping his hands together. “Oh, wow. They look so good.”

Joshua smiled, pulling up another chair and collapsing into it. “Yeah?”

He watched as Seokmin stuffed a cookie into his mouth, eyes instantly widening as he began nodding his head vigorously.

“The best,” Seokmin said honestly, words muffled, and there was a pink stain of strawberry on the corner of his mouth already. “Shua hyung, how are you always so good at baking?”

Joshua didn’t reply, and just watched Seokmin stuff his face with the cookie, laughing a little as the younger sincerely expressed his compliments, words garbled and unintelligible, and smiled and told him to chew his food properly.

For all of their bickering and teasing whenever the two of them interacted, Seokmin was a soft person at heart, sincere compliments spilling from his lips as easy as daylight.

Speaking of daylight, however, the morning had well and truly come and gone, the early afternoon sun spilling through Joshua’s windows and reminding him that Seokmin had been in his apartment for a good five hours now. He ought to kick the man out soon.

“You’re going to choke yourself if you keep shoving them in your face like that,” Joshua said, nudging the glass of milk closer to Seokmin. “Take your time, the cookies aren’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” Seokmin replied, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk as he sipped the milk. “These cookies need to be in my mouth. Right now.”

Joshua chuckled, leaning back in his chair as Seokmin finished off the last of the three cookies on the plate. The rest of the batch were sitting on the cooling rack, waiting to be put into a container for Seokmin to take home, of course. Joshua wasn’t going to go to all the effort of baking cookies if he was only going to make a few.

“Happy now?” he asked, smiling again when Seokmin nodded fervently, beaming, cookie crumbs around his mouth. Joshua shook his head in faux disbelief. “I can’t believe you forced me to make you those cookies.”

“It’s because I’m Shua hyung’s favourite,” Seokmin sing-songed, grinning cheekily. “I’m your most favourite friend in the entire world.”

“Wrong,” Joshua deadpanned. “That’s Jeonghan.”

“Just because Jeonghan hyung’s your best friend doesn’t mean he’s your favourite,” Seokmin said, and Joshua wanted to point out that it kind of did, but Seokmin was already carrying on. “Speaking of Jeonghan hyung though, don’t forget that he’s taking us all to a restaurant for dinner tonight.”

Joshua blinked, closing his mouth. “Really?”

Seokmin looked at him, head tilted, and then grinned. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No. Of course not.” Joshua stood up, taking the plate and empty glass and walking into the kitchen. “No I didn’t.”

Seokmin laughed, following Joshua into the kitchen and watching as he washed the crockery. “Oh, you definitely did!” he crowed delightedly, and it was such a Seokmin thing to be delighted by that it had Joshua smiling again, even as he tried to maintain a long-suffering frown. “Can’t believe you forgot all about it. Good thing I reminded you, huh? What would you do without me, Shua hyung?”

Seokmin sounded so endlessly smug, eyes shining for reasons that Joshua couldn’t quite fathom. The warm afternoon light from the windows spilled over his face and gave him a golden glow, and so Joshua finally broke, laughing and drying his hands before ruffling Seokmin’s hair, moving away from the sink and over to the rest of the cookies.

“I dunno. Die?” Joshua suggested, making Seokmin laugh suddenly at the answer.

“Maybe not that extreme,” he said. “You’d probably just miss the dinner that hyung planned to celebrate our friend group’s 2000 day anniversary. Which, actually, on second thoughts, probably would lead to your death,” he added thoughtfully.

Joshua smiled, beginning to deposit the cookies into a plastic container. “In which case, thank you for saving me from certain death, Seokmin.”

“You’re most welcome!” Seokmin said brightly, with a grin. “Do I get a cookie?”

That made Joshua chuckle, looking up from the container to raise his eyebrows at Seokmin. “This entire batch is yours, Seokmin. You can have as many as you like.”

He placed the container into Seokmin’s hands, and then started walking out of the kitchen.

“Also, you have cookie crumbs all around your mouth.”

Seokmin’s loud whine of annoyance echoed throughout his apartment. “Hyung!”

───────────── ‘✦,

And so that was how Joshua’s morning had gone. Relatively uneventful and, truthfully, rather ordinary (well, as normal as a morning could be when you had Lee Seokmin for a best friend). So Joshua wasn’t truly expecting anything different during dinner that evening.

Their overexcited yells blurred together and echoed noisily throughout the BBQ restaurant, and Joshua laughed into his glass of water as half of the table shouted over each other for some reason or other.

They were getting a fair amount of concerned stares from the general public, which was understandable, because Soonyoung was vibrating like he was due to explode any minute and half of them weren’t even sitting in their chairs anymore, but this was how their dinners out together always went, so Joshua didn’t even bat an eye.

“I’m sure if you strap a jet pack onto the ostrich, then it could definitely fly,” Mingyu was insisting, and Seungkwan stared at him in utter disbelief.

“If you strap a jet pack onto a hippo then it could definitely fly!” Seungkwan screeched, and Wonwoo nodded vigorously in agreement. “Doesn’t mean that ostriches can fly!”

“It does!” Mingyu said, but his eye twitched as he talked. It was a sure sign that he knew he was basically talking nonsense, but Seungkwan looked far too irate to notice. “Flying is when stuff goes into the sky, right? I fully believe that a hippo can fly too.”

Wonwoo’s eye was twitching, too, and definitely not for the same reason that Mingyu’s was. “You think that hippos can fly.”

Mingyu grinned. “I do.”

“I support him!” Soonyoung cried out suddenly, and everyone exploded, eager to take part and voice their opinion.

Their conversation had long ago strayed from being in the realm of anything that made sense, and at the end of the long table that they were all eating at, Jeonghan was quite peacefully picking meat off of his barbeque grill, him and Seungcheol making pleasant conversation and ignoring the shouts coming from next to them.

Joshua shook his head. Typical Jeonghan behaviour.

Ducking his head to avoid Soonyoung’s flailing arms as the younger vehemently defended Mingyu’s (frankly very stupid) opinion, Joshua reached over the table for the bottle of soju, filling up his shot glass and knocking it back, observing his friends with a grin on his face.

So far, the dinner had been going incredibly normally.

They’d taken part in drinking games, and Mingyu and Seokmin had made a show of cooking the meat for everyone, and the conversation had switched topics hilariously fast a span of fifteen times.

And Joshua was having a great time. He’d been seated between Chan and Hansol, who were actually rather good people to be seated between, because Hansol ended up dozing off three hours into the dinner and Chan ended up disappearing to sit somewhere on the other side of the table, leaving Joshua in peace to observe and laugh at his friend’s antics.

He’d been doing what he always did at their friendaversary dinners: replace half his shots with water, watch his friends’ drunk arguments (and occasionally interject with one random statement to rile them all up again), and also eat as much beef as possible because, well. Jeonghan was paying. He may as well make the most of it.

Joshua listened to the shaking, booming voice of Wonwoo going “What do you mean you’ve never heard of a penguin before?”, and chuckled.

Everything was indeed going very normally.

“Shua hyung,” a voice said in his ear, one bony finger poking right into his shoulder blade before a cold hand pressed against the nape of his neck, making him yelp and turn around.

Seokmin grinned at him from Chan's previously-empty chair, eyes looking a little too bright to be wholly sober.

“Shua hyung,” he said again, his grin full of mischief. “Don’t look so excited to see me. Desperation isn’t a good look on anyone.”

Joshua just rolled his eyes, tweaking Seokmin’s ear for good measure. “As if I’d be excited to see you.” Seokmin pouted, and pressed his entire cold palm against Joshua’s cheek just to be mean. “Hey, don’t put your gremlin hands on me, you brat. Why are your fingers so cold, anyway?”

Seokmin shrugged, holding his hands up and looking at them like he’d never seen them before. “Guess they just get cold really easily.” He looked up, and his smile seemed to widen even further, holding his hands out to Joshua. “Warm them up for me?”

“Warm them up yourself,” Joshua said, but he was already reaching out for Seokmin’s hands, warming his fingers between his palms.

Seokmin just beamed, pleased, like he’d known that Joshua would immediately give him what he wanted. Hands still being held by Joshua, he turned back to the rest of their friends, observing them with bright eyes.

He grinned at something that Junhui said, and Joshua watched him, smiling a little.

There was always just something about Seokmin’s happiness that made one feel happy too. Back when they first met, five years ago, it had been one of the things that had endeared Seokmin to Joshua in the first place.

Joshua looked back at the rest of their friends, listening as Soonyoung was yet again doing his terrifyingly accurate impression of Seungkwan. He smiled, but didn’t pay attention for long, because next to him, Seokmin slipped his hands out of his grip, clapping delightedly and then raised his hands to cover his mouth.

And then Seokmin laughed: loud, brightly, full of golden light as he tipped back in his chair before leaning forward, yelling encouragement to Soonyoung on the other end of the table.

He laughed again, and Joshua just—

Joshua just watched him.

He was unable to tear his eyes away as Seokmin snorted inelegantly, bursting into fits of laughter and collapsing into Joshua’s shoulder, seemingly unable to hold himself up due to the force of his laughs.

All he could do was stare down fondly at Seokmin, giggling into him. Seokmin, whose eyes had crinkled so they were nothing more than overjoyed crescents, whose laughter was ringing in the air, and even the yells of their friends had become muffled in Joshua’s ears, his focus solely on Seokmin by his side and his bright, unabashed laugh.

Seungkwan said something then, and Seokmin looked up, eyes bright with mirth as he made to stand up.

“Hey! Seungkwan!” Seokmin yelled, getting up from the chair and leaning on the table. “Look, you—”

And then he cut himself off, bursting into laughter as Soonyoung said something, arms waving in the air, and Seokmin hurried over to them before Seungkwan could get his hands around Soonyoung’s throat, still laughing the entire time.

“Hey, let me go! Let me go after Soonyoung hyung! This guy deserves it for sure—”

Seokmin was waved off by Seungkwan, but he still kept a close distance, hovering over the younger with his face crinkled into a smile and seemingly unaware of how he'd left Joshua with his head in shambles on the other side of the table.

And Joshua… well, Joshua had realised something.

Seokmin’s laugh was, without a doubt, one of the best sounds that Joshua had ever heard.

Which was a good thing, Joshua mused, watching Seokmin from across the table, watching him say something and then burst into laughter at his own words. Seokmin was a chronic smiler and chronic laugher, and could never be seen without his lips curling upwards at something or other, letting out at least a small snuffle of a laugh.

Joshua had heard Seokmin laugh hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Never before had he realised how good Seokmin’s laugh sounded, though. Or how good he looked when he laughed.

Happiness was a good look on Seokmin.

Sometimes, his laughter scrunched his face up hilariously, and sometimes, it turned into loud shrieks more than actual laughs. Even so, Joshua thought it was rather endearing, and still sounded like golden chimes in a spring breeze.

It would be incredibly easy to fall in love with a laugh like that.

Joshua froze, mind going blank as Seokmin tilted his head back, laughing and smiling widely, his golden laughter ringing in his ears.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Alright, you three, shut up,” Jeonghan finally interrupted, seemingly having had enough of their fighting. “You’re gonna give me a headache. And you’re going to wake poor Hansol up,” he added, gesturing to Hansol who was still sleeping in the chair next to Joshua.

Seungkwan whined immediately. “Hyung! Soonyoung hyung’s doing crazy stuff again!”

“So is Seungkwan!”

“I know,” Jeonghan said, “but you’re both being ridiculous. Sit down. Why don’t we play a nice, quiet game?”

“Or,” a voice said, “you can leave.”

One of the restaurant workers was frowning at them, and handed Jeonghan the bill.

“In fact, please leave.”

Jeonghan blinked down at the bill in his hands, before his eyes widened and he made a slight distressed sound. “Who ordered this much beef?” He looked around, eyes wide. “Who ordered all of this?”

Seungcheol grabbed his arm before he could work himself up into a fit. “We’ll be on our way, thank you,” he said to the server, bowing. “Our apologies. Jeonghan, come on, you said you’d pay.”

“I’m not paying for all of this,” Jeonghan said stubbornly, even as Seungcheol pushed him towards the desk. “Cheol, split it with me. Look at this! This is crazy! I swear, when I find out who ordered three different cuts of wagyu beef I’m gonna—”

Their gathering split up rather quickly after that, though it did look like Wonwoo had a difficult time trying to drag an incredibly drunk Chan out of his seat. Joshua was rather grateful though, partly because he didn’t want to stick around if Jeonghan managed to catch a whiff of who’d ordered the most expensive meat on the menu, and partly because it would give him the chance to process the sudden realisation he’d just had.

Jihoon was putting very little effort into dragging Soonyoung away from Seungkwan, while Mingyu was bodily hauling the younger man out of the restaurant. The sight would have made Joshua laugh, only he was too occupied with gathering all of his own things and booking it out of the restaurant and back home as soon as possible.

“Shua hyung!”

A hand suddenly squeezed Joshua’s arm, making him whip his head upwards, almost knocking right into Seokmin’s chin as the younger leaned over him.

“Oh my g—Seokmin,” Joshua said, stepping back a little so they weren’t practically nose to nose. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, and then grinned. “Are you walking home, hyung?”

Joshua looked over at the counter, where Jeonghan seemed to still be arguing with Seungcheol about splitting the bill. “Probably,” he said. “It looks like those two’ll be arguing for a while. It’ll be, like, three in the morning by the time Cheol drops me back off if I wait for them to be done.”

Seokmin’s lips twisted, eyes round with concern. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself at this time of night, hyung.” His face lit up. “D’you wanna come with us instead? Myungho and Junhui hyung are driving me back home. I’m sure they could drop you off too.”

His first instinct was to say yes, of course and that would be great, but his heart was racing unusually fast in his chest, and looking at Seokmin’s bright, earnest eyes for even a second too long made Joshua feel all warm and melty inside, and considering the obscene amount of alcohol he’d consumed (even with his half-water scheme going on) it probably wasn’t a good idea to spend a whole car ride next to Seokmin.

“No thanks,” Joshua said, rather too hurriedly, and then looked down to adjust his shoulder bag, embarrassed at his own abrupt answer. “I mean—I don’t live that far away. I’ll be fine.”

Seokmin looked at him for a long moment, and he must have been more drunk than Joshua thought, because his eyes were coloured with a glittering expression that made him pause.

Seokmin looked almost disappointed.

And then he blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced with a slightly lopsided grin as he pulled Joshua in for a hug then instantly stepped away, wringing his hands together. “Well, goodnight then, Shua hyung,” Seokmin said. “I’ll see you?”

Joshua managed to dredge up his own smile, giving a small wave. “Yeah. See you, Min-ah.”

So Joshua bid him goodnight and the rest of them goodbye, and walked out of the restaurant, his heart thumping in his chest, Seokmin’s smile glowing in the back of his eyes.

And the knowledge that he was in love with Seokmin etched into his brain.

───────────── ‘✦,

Joshua and Seokmin’s friendship went something like this.

They teased, bickered, pinched each other’s elbows and pressed palms against faces. They doted, coddled, cared for each other and talked over the phone until the wee hours of the morning. Seokmin would whine for something, and Joshua would give it to him. Joshua wouldn’t even have to say a word, and Seokmin would be reaching out to hold him, in an instant knowing exactly what Joshua needed.

Seokmin was loud, almost obnoxiously so, but when Joshua went out seeking solace he went to Seokmin first, because Seokmin was always, always soft and comfortable for Joshua.

Joshua sat down on his couch and stirred the sugar into his coffee with a teaspoon, frowning down at it thoughtfully.

Jeonghan was Joshua’s best friend. The other half of his soul.

But even if Jeonghan was half of Joshua’s soul, then Seokmin was the soul that was made to fit with Joshua’s. Not an identical copy of his own, but something that melted and moulded into his edges, slotting together as if they’d been designed to fit into each other all long, like they were—

“Puzzle pieces,” Joshua said to himself, smiling a little fondly. Seokmin was terrible at puzzles.

He couldn’t help but think of that one jigsaw puzzle that Jeonghan had bought Seokmin for his birthday, and the two of them had bickered for fifteen minutes straight on whether Seokmin would actually be able to complete it. Seokmin said that of course he could, and Joshua said he definitely could not.

(In the end, it turned out that Seokmin could not, but Joshua helped him finish it anyway.)

When Joshua pushed, Seokmin pulled. Where Joshua was cat-like, easy grins and quick thoughts, Seokmin was puppy-like, bright and boundless energy and endless kindness. Seokmin could never say no to anyone, and while Joshua was getting a little better at it, he could still never say no to Seokmin.

A myriad of not-quite contradictions, of almost-opposites and nearly-differents. Of “Shua hyung?”s and “Yes Seokmin?”s and “Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were still listening to me”s.

Soulmates, but in the truest sense of the word—the person whose soul was meant to reside next to his.

Joshua set down the teaspoon, frowning thoughtfully. When he put it like that, it did sound an awful lot like they were in love. Perhaps he should’ve realised he’d fallen for Seokmin a lot sooner.

Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Joshua had fallen for Seokmin, perhaps long, long ago, fallen for his entire being and everything he was.

And it took him listening to Seokmin’s laugh to finally realise.

His phone rang, then, a wonderful tune of Jeonghan screaming really loudly that the man had set as the custom ringtone for himself, and with a sigh, Joshua set down his coffee and picked up.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s go out.”

“No thanks. I’m flattered, Han, but I don’t like you in that way.”

“Idiot,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua chuckled. “Come on, let’s go for a walk down the river.”

Joshua hummed, looking down at his coffee, tracing a finger over the rim of the mug. “What if I have plans? And what if I don’t want to go out?”

“Joshuji. If you were busy, you wouldn’t have picked up so fast,” Jeonghan said, tone patronising, like this was obvious. “It’s a very nice day for a walk today, you know. Also, Seungcheol’s coming. We all wanna go on a walk together, so join us.”

That made Joshua wrinkle his nose. “No thanks. I don’t have plans to be a third wheel today.”

There was a pause.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to come too.”

Joshua blinked, and then cursed his own heart for jumping hopefully at the mere mention of Seokmin’s name. “And why are you telling me that?”

“Just because,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua could almost picture his flippant shrug. “He said he hasn’t seen you in a week. Have you been avoiding him, hm?”

“No,” Joshua said, and then coughed. Jeonghan hummed sceptically at his words.

“Sure.”

“Why would I be avoiding him?” Joshua continued. “He can come invade my home whenever he wants. He’s done it before. I’m not avoiding him.”

Joshua was definitely avoiding him.

It had been a week since their friendaversary dinner, and Joshua hadn’t seen Seokmin once, too preoccupied with sitting on his couch, staring blankly at the wall and contemplating the fact that he was in love with Seokmin.

He couldn’t bring himself to see Seokmin, not just yet—not before he was sure that he wouldn’t do something utterly ridiculous when they next saw each other. He wasn’t keen on abruptly professing his love the moment he saw Seokmin’s face. Or ruffling his hair and kissing his cheeks and staring, wide-eyed and in awe as Seokmin did something painfully ordinary, like breathing or being alive or just smiling even remotely in Joshua’s direction.

Joshua blinked rapidly as suddenly, his thoughts conjured a vivid image of Seokmin beaming at him, his sunshine smile glowing prettily in his mind’s eye.

“Maybe Seokmin wants you to be the one to come and see him first,” Jeonghan suggested when Joshua didn’t say anything.

Joshua ignored him, dragging a hand down his face. “Why would you telling me that Seokmin’s coming change my answer, though?”

“Oh, it will,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. “I know things, Shuji. So come on out, we’ll meet at the front of Cheol’s house in fifteen minutes. See you.”

He hung up, then, leaving Joshua to stare down at the blinking contact, shaking his head and wondering whether Jeonghan actually knew something or if he was just being Jeonghan yet again.

And then, he got up from the sofa and went to his room to get ready.

───────────── ‘✦,

Yoon Jeonghan, that little rat.

“Yoon Jeonghan, that little rat,” Joshua muttered, watching as Jeonghan walked away, arm slung over Seungcheol’s shoulders. It was a bit of a struggle, because Seungcheol was one broad guy, but Jeonghan managed.

Of course he did. He'd do anything to ensure the success of his schemes, and this was all part of his ploy to abandon Joshua with Seokmin.

Seokmin, who was pressed close to his side, as they both watched Jeonghan and Seungcheol walk away.

Seokmin, who just turned to Joshua with a bright smile, seemingly undeterred by Jeonghan’s horrific betrayal.

“Well,” he chirped, eyes crinkling prettily, and suddenly Jeonghan’s betrayal didn’t feel so bad. “Guess we get to spend the rest of the afternoon as just the two of us!”

Indeed they did.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol had been with them for a total of forty five minutes before suddenly, an inescapable emergency emerged, one that urgently required both of them to rush home and leave Seokmin and Joshua alone. Not before insisting that they had to finish the walk together, of course.

Cursing Jeonghan inwardly, Joshua plastered a smile onto his face, a smile that softened into something a little more genuine as Seokmin continued beaming.

“Yeah. Seems like it’s just us.”

The gentle rushing sounds of the river seemed to gurgle in harmony with Seokmin as the younger resumed his chattering, the two of them continuing their leisurely strolling alongside the river.

It really was a nice day for a walk. Joshua hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate how pleasant everything was that day, too busy avoiding Seokmin and even trying to squish himself between Jeonghan and Seungcheol so that he didn’t have to talk to Seokmin for too long and stare into those pretty, pretty eyes.

But now Joshua had no choice but to walk with Seokmin and so, accepting his fate, he was able to look around and acknowledge that today truly was a nice day.

The sun shone brightly, glistening and glinting off of the waves of the river, off of the leaves of the trees, off of the sparkles in Seokmin’s eyes. There was a pleasant breeze, rustling the reeds and ruffling Seokmin’s hair and giving him an adorably windswept fringe that he kept brushing back with one, delicate finger. It was a nice day to look out at the picturesque river, at the general public going about their daily business, at Seokmin’s adorable eye crinkles as he animatedly told a story.

Okay. Maybe Joshua spent half the time staring at Seokmin’s face rather than doing anything else.

It was kind of unavoidable, however, given the way that Seokmin was comfortably pressed into his side, his hands warm as they tucked themselves into the crook of Joshua’s elbow, clinging to him in a way that Joshua, admittedly, thought was very adorable. And Seokmin kept talking, his voice bright and bubbly and every time he smiled, Joshua had no choice but to direct his full attention to Seokmin and Seokmin only.

“And I just watched them the entire time, seeing what they would do after they saw the seagull slip on the log and fall off. Because surely they’d try to go around the log, right? But then the ducks just—” Seokmin cut himself off, one hand coming up to muffle the laugh that escaped his lips, and Joshua found himself smiling too.

“The ducks did what?”

“They just waddled up to the log and one by one slipped off and landed into the water,” Seokmin laughed, and mimicked a duck’s waddle with his head before putting on a dramatically surprised face and pretending to fall into imaginary water.

It had Joshua laughing, endeared, steadying Seokmin as the younger stumbled into him. They really were walking quite close together.

This was the unfortunate thing about being friends with a Lee Seokmin for five years. The man developed a complete lack of understanding for something called ‘Joshua’s personal space’.

It was a concept that didn’t exist. Not to him, not when they’d known each other for far too long after Jeonghan had introduced Joshua to him all those years ago. For Seokmin, it was totally natural to be practically walking together as one person with Joshua as they made their way down the riverbank. Totally normal for him to be leaning into Joshua most of the time, rather than actually standing on his own two feet.

Joshua wouldn’t normally have a problem with it. He was well aware of Seokmin’s clinginess, and would either respond by pushing him away or letting him do what he wanted, without thinking too much about it.

Now, though. Now things were different.

Because he was in love with Seokmin, and that made everything a lot harder.

“Did you know that ducks are half-nocturnal?” Seokmin said abruptly, and Joshua blinked.

“I did not know that,” he said. “Why do you know that?”

Seokmin just shrugged casually, his shoulder bumping against Joshua’s. “Got bored,” he said. “Remember, like, a month ago, when you just kept talking about all your different cousins for an hour straight and you accused me of not listening to you?”

“I do. You started sulking.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin grinned, like it was no big deal. “Well, I lied to you, hyung. I wasn’t listening. I was searching up duck facts.”

“Wow.” Joshua stared at him. “You’d choose searching up duck facts over listening to your own hyung talk? I’m hurt, Seokmin. How could you?”

Seokmin only laughed, reaching out for Joshua when the elder dramatically ripped his arm away from his hold, beginning to speed-walk down the path away from him. It didn’t take long for Seokmin to catch up with him again, latching himself to his side once more, even when Joshua refused to look at him.

“Shua hyung, I didn’t mean it like that,” Seokmin whined, pouting. When Joshua didn’t react, he whined again. “Shua hyung! Hey, hey, pay attention to me.”

Joshua steadfastly avoided looking over at Seokmin. Part of it was to keep up the act of being mad at him, but part of it was because if he looked over at Seokmin at that moment, there was a good chance that Joshua would simply combust on the spot.

When Seokmin pouted like that with his huge, round puppy eyes and made those whining sounds in the back of his throat, it was so utterly endearing that it took everything in Joshua to not just fall to his knees right then and there. Seokmin was quite easily one of the most adorable people that Joshua knew, and what made matters worse was the fact that Seokmin didn’t really seem to know just how adorable he really was.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin said again, very sadly, and Joshua finally looked at him. The moment they made eye contact, Seokmin’s entire being positively lit up, and Joshua had to look away again.

Goodness. It was so hard being in love.

“Alright, I forgive you,” Joshua said, before Seokmin could do something ridiculous like pout all pathetically and whine out a sad Shua hyung again.

“Cool!” Seokmin said instantly, beaming, the earlier sadness wiped from his expression like it never even existed in the first place. “That’s good, ‘cause you’re my favourite hyung, Shua hyung, so I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Seokmin sounded like he was teasing, when he said it like that, but Joshua couldn’t be too sure. Thinking about it for too long made his head feel all dizzy.

Woah. This really wasn’t good.

While Joshua didn’t necessarily dislike being in love with Seokmin, because it was impossible to put the word ‘dislike’ and ‘Seokmin’ in the same sentence, it dawned on him now that it made it very hard to function normally around the younger man. It made him feel all melty and gooey inside whenever Seokmin so much as looked over at him, and when Seokmin smiled, Joshua could feel himself melt and could hardly even think straight for several seconds after.

But, well. Seokmin was grinning widely at him, tugging his arm to pull him along the path and saying there was normally a very nice lady selling roses on the riverbank and wouldn’t Shua hyung like a rose too?, and he was being just so very Seokmin that it made Joshua smile.

“Of course,” he said, chuckling, as Seokmin slipped his hand into his and they began jogging down the path. “Of course I’d love a rose. Only if you’re paying, though.”

───────────── ‘✦,

“I'm in love with Seokmin,” Joshua declared, loudly, the moment he opened the door to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s shared apartment.

Seungcheol blinked at him from the hallway, a half-eaten slice of toast on the floor from where he’d dropped it in surprise at Joshua's sudden entrance.

“Um. Nice to know?” he said. “Took you long enough, though.”

Joshua blinked back at him. “Where’s Jeonghan? Why are you here?”

“Hey. I live here, you know,” Seungcheol pointed out, before bending down and picking up his slice of toast. He winced down at the crumbs. “Dang, that’s gonna bring in ants. Also, why are you here?” he asked, in Joshua’s direction. “And how did your date with Seokmin go?”

“It was not a—wait, if you knew I wasn’t in love with Seokmin yet, why did you set us up like that? How did you know I’d fall in love with him in the first place?”

“Because you’re you,” Jeonghan said, emerging from somewhere with a handheld vacuum cleaner in hand. He handed it to Seungcheol, who stared at him like he was some sort of holy saviour. “And because Seokmin’s Seokmin. It was bound to happen at some point.”

Joshua frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Believe what you wanna believe,” Jeonghan said, shrugging. “Anyway, why did you barge into our apartment like this?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Joshua frowned again. “I hate you for abandoning us today at the river.”

“Hey, we were being helpful!” Jeonghan said, over the sound of Seungcheol noisily vacuuming up the crumbs. “Did you not have a good time? Seokmin even bought you a rose, it seems.”

“What?” Joshua looked down at the plastic-wrapped rose in his hands. He’d come straight from his walk with Seokmin to Jeonghan’s apartment, and he’d completely forgotten that he was still holding the rose. “How can you be so sure that Seokmin bought it for me? Maybe I bought it for myself.”

Jeonghan smiled, all-knowing. “This is Seokmin we’re talking about, Joshuji.”

“So?”

“So,” Jeonghan said, “you should come in. Or do you wanna stay by the doorway forever?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jeonghan had ushered him into the living room and seemed to be attempting to stuff Joshua with all the snacks in the world before he left.

Joshua sighed. “Come on, Jeonghan, why are you—”

Jeonghan simply shoved a lollipop into Joshua’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Shh. Let me do the talking, okay?”

“Hey, I’m the one who came to talk to you,” Joshua protested, taking the lollipop out only for Jeonghan to shove it back in again. “Why are you—What do you even have to say to me—”

“I have a lot of stuff to say to you,” Jeonghan said, and then his face abruptly morphed into a stern expression. “I am very displeased with your behaviour, Joshua-ssi.” He waved a finger in Joshua’s direction. “You haven’t been treating Seokmin well.”

Joshua choked on his lollipop. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding him,” Jeonghan said, still in that stern tone.

“Avoiding him? What do you mean?”

Jeonghan straightened, adjusting imaginary glasses and began listing off of his fingers. “First, you talked to Seokmin for a grand total of 7 minutes and 43 seconds during our friendaversary dinner the other week. Out of a five hour gathering? That’s terrible.”

“Were you timing us?”

“Next, you ignore him for a whole week. You don’t call him, nor do you reply to his texts, nor do you even text him first.”

“I never reply to anyone’s texts.”

“And then today,” Jeonghan declared, throwing his hands up like a grand climax, “you did everything in your power to avoid him entirely while we were all walking together. I’m terribly displeased with you, Joshua-ssi.”

Joshua raised a hand confusedly, the lollipop held in the other. “Okay, Jeonghan, what are you talking about? Why are you displeased?” he asked. “Also can we, uh, backtrack a bit? You didn’t fully acknowledge the… thing.” He reddened slightly. “The fact that I have, uh, feelings for… him.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan unwrapped a chocolate, offering it to Joshua before abruptly popping it into his own mouth. “Oh, I knew about that.”

Joshua’s eyes widened. “How?”

“That dinner, for starters,” Jeonghan said with his mouth full. He shook his head at Joshua’s surprise, the ‘you’re being weird right now’ tone clear in his voice. “Honestly, did you black out for the entire evening? You were watching Seokmin the entire time, Joshua. Seungcheol even has a video.”

“I do,” Seungcheol said, his voice appearing out of nowhere right over Joshua’s shoulder, making him jump.

“Oh my—Where did you come from?”

Seungcheol just grinned, whipping out his phone and showing Joshua the video.

And the video was… pretty incriminating. It was a little blurry, made ambiguous by the haze of smoke wafting from the meat and the frankly terrible cameraman-ship, but Joshua could recognise himself easily.

He watched as video-Joshua sat back in his chair, glass in hand, and there were about five people standing up and yelling at each other on screen but video-Joshua’s gaze was unmistakably, undeniably fixed on Seokmin and Seokmin alone, eyes crinkling adoringly, smiling so ridiculously wide as Seokmin just continued talking, entirely oblivious.

Seokmin said something intelligible, words lost to the noise of the restaurant, but video-Joshua just smiled even wider, eyes turning into endeared crescents and Joshua could almost see the hearts emanating from his own gaze.

“Huh,” he said weakly, once Seungcheol vanished after showing him the video. Like he was nothing more than a cameo in Jeonghan's entire interrogation, or something. “Well.”

Jeonghan nodded, smug. “Although, I did know even before that,” he added. “I predicted it from the moment you first met him. I wanted to show you the video, though, because it makes it pretty obvious.”

“The mome—you know what, I’m not going to ask,” Joshua said, and then sighed. “Alright, so you know. And you have nothing to say about it?”

“Other than the fact you should stop being mean to Seokmin?” Jeonghan shrugged, taking out another chocolate and eating it. “Nope. You guys would be great together.”

“What?” Decidedly ignoring that last statement, Joshua waved the lollipop he was still holding in Jeonghan’s direction, annoyed, and in answer, Jeonghan just shoved it back in his mouth again. “I’m not being mean to him. When am I ever mean to him?”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth again and then set it down on the coffee table, ignoring the affronted noise Jeonghan made when the sticky sweet came into contact with the wood.

This entire conversation was not going how Joshua thought it would. He’d expected at least some degree of surprise from Jeonghan, maybe even a little bit of comfort whilst Joshua had a small mental breakdown in front of him. He certainly hadn’t expected Jeonghan to somehow already know everything, even before Joshua knew. Nor had he expected to be scolded for how he’d dealt with his feelings.

“This past week! I just told you, Joshua-ssi,” Jeonghan said.

“Can you stop calling me ‘Joshua-ssi’? It makes it sound like you’re mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” Jeonghan responded, sniffing and turning his nose up. “Okay, but seriously, Seokmin thought that he’d done something wrong. He thought you were upset at him, which is exactly why I made you come out on that walk today.” He stabbed a finger in Joshua’s direction. “You, sir, are terrible at handling your feelings.”

Joshua sighed. “Can you blame me, though? Being in love is—is weird. Seokmin is just so…” He paused, wringing his hands. “He’s so sweet and kind and genuine and realising that you’ve fallen for someone like that is, I think, a very justifiable cause for having a breakdown for a week.”

Jeonghan frowned. “It makes it sound like you don’t think he’d like you back.”

“Of course he wouldn't,” Joshua said, like it was obvious. “He’s Seokmin, and I’m—” Joshua swallowed, a lump rising in his throat. “I’m just me.”

“Just you?”

“Look at it this way,” Joshua explained, since apparently Jeonghan didn’t understand this horribly simple concept of Joshua being literally a potato compared to Seokmin. “Seokmin is a star, a brilliantly shining ball of light. And then this is me.”

Joshua unwrapped one of the chocolates, holding up the brown ball. Jeonghan blinked at it, before taking both the wrapper and chocolate from him, popping the treat into his mouth.

“I still don’t get it,” Jeonghan said. “So what? Chocolate is yummy.”

“I like him too much to risk melting away under his Sun, if I get too close,” Joshua explained, and then shook his head. “Seriously, I like him so much, Jeonghan. Him and his smile and his laugh and that ridiculously loud voice of his…” He smiled slightly, and then sighed. “I like Seokmin far too much to risk even thinking about if he could like me back. It’d ruin our friendship.”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Is it really that absurd to consider that Seokmin may like you back?”

Joshua thought of Seokmin and his golden smiles, his beautiful bright voice and his gentle hands and his warm presence, and swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I think it is.”

There was a short silence then, as Jeonghan bit his lip, seeming to soften a little at Joshua’s answer, a complicated expression filling his eyes.

Then he leaned over and hit Joshua over the head with the chocolate wrapper.

“Hey!” Joshua protested, brushing at his hair. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Jeonghan said matter-of-factly. “You think it’s absurd? I think you’re absurd, Joshuji.” Oh, good, at least he wasn’t calling Joshua ‘Joshua-ssi’ anymore. “You're being a coward. Don’t deny it, it’s true. Taking a whole week to process your feelings? Please. You were just hiding because you were scared.”

That made Joshua wince a little, because Jeonghan was, unfortunately, quite correct.

“Just take that leap,” Jeonghan said, gentler. He poked Joshua in the cheek affectionately. “Jump. Jump towards Seokmin, Joshuji, because I promise, he’ll be there for you. Even if he doesn’t feel the same. Which, I assure you, is highly unlikely.”

Joshua’s eyes melted, irises looking a little shiny. “But what if I jump and just… fall?”

“He’d never let that happen,” Jeonghan promised. “Jump and fall into him, Joshuji. He’s there to catch you.”

───────────── ‘✦,

It was only a few days later that Joshua realised Jeonghan had essentially told him to confess. Luckily for Joshua, though, there was no way on Earth that was happening.

“You’re an idiot,” Jeonghan said into his ear. “The biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Even more of an idiot than Mingyu, which is definitely saying something.”

“I’m not doing it, Jeonghan,” Joshua said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know why you thought that I would.”

“I gave you a whole emotional speech and everything! Of course I thought you would!”

Jeonghan had called him five minutes ago, asking if everything had been going well in regards to ‘The Business’, where it had been revealed that Joshua a) had no idea what ‘The Business’ was, and b) had not gone through with it at all.

“Listen, Joshua. Seokmin, he’s always talking ab—” Jeonghan cut himself off again with a frustrated groan. “I’m friends with idiots. All of you are idiots.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Please do it,” Jeonghan said, and now he sounded like he was begging. Joshua didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t like the world would end if he didn’t confess. “For my peace of mind, please confess.”

“For your peace of mind?” Joshua repeated. “What?”

“The weather looks pretty good next weekend,” Jeonghan added. “Seokmin hasn’t gone to the amusement park in a while. He’s always said he wanted to go on the ferris wheel, even though he’s scared of heights. And you know how much of a romantic at heart Seokmin is.”

Joshua frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You know why.” Jeonghan didn’t add anything further to that statement. “Anyway, I gotta go. See you. Make use of this info, okay?”

“What am I even meant to use it f—Jeonghan? Jeonghan?” Joshua looked down at his phone, where Jeonghan had abruptly hung up on him, mystified. He really wished sometimes that Jeonghan would do things that made sense.

He set down his phone, tilted his head back, and sighed. He was sighing an awful lot these days. He was just considering whether being in love could give you some sort of illness that caused excessive sighing when his phone rang again, but this time with a different ringtone: Seokmin’s ringtone.

Joshua had annoying and clingy friends who, apparently, really loved customising their ringtones on his phone.

“Hello, Seokmin,” Joshua said, unable to stop the small smile spreading across his face as the name left his lips. “How are you?”

“Good evening, Shua hyung,” Seokmin chirped, and he sounded so lovely and bright that the smile on Joshua's face widened a little. “I’m doing good! I was just calling because it’s a Friday, and we normally call on Fridays, so I was just—I wanted to call you.” He fumbled with his words, stumbling a bit before hurriedly adding, “Of course, if you’re busy, we don’t have to talk! Since, like, we didn’t call last week, if you don’t want to from now on then I totally respect your decision, you know?”

“No, it’s okay,” Joshua interrupted, before Seokmin could begin spiralling. “I mean. Yes. I’d like that. For us to continue calling, that is.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” Joshua said, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling ridiculously wide to himself. “Yeah, really.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said again, after a flusteredly warm silence. He coughed a little. “Um, in which case, I’d really like that too.”

Joshua closed his eyes and leaned back, smiling into the phone and trying desperately to calm down his heart because goodness, it should be illegal for someone to make him feel this fluttery on the inside.

“So, anyway,” Seokmin said, and even Joshua could detect the smile in his voice, “I heard that it’s going to be really sunny for the next week or so! Seungkwan wants to plan a long weekend where we all go to the beach to make the most of the sun.”

“Does he really?” Joshua said, with a laugh. “Just because it’s sunny doesn’t mean it’ll be warm, though.”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s still insisting we go,” Seokmin complained.

“What, all of us?”

“I think so. He’ll definitely drag me along, at the very least. Me and Soonyoung hyung and Hansol and Chan. Chan’s definitely going to ditch, though,” Seokmin said conspiratorially. “I think he’s gonna make up some pretend event that he accidentally double-booked himself with so that he doesn’t have to go.”

“Oh, really?” Joshua said with a laugh. “Seungkwan’s not gonna like that at all.”

Seokmin laughed too, bright and delighted, and if possible, Joshua’s smile widened. “He’s really not. I’m also really hoping he’s joking. Because otherwise, I might have to accidentally double-book myself too so I don’t have to go.”

“What would you double-book yourself with?”

“Hm, well…”

Joshua liked talking to Seokmin. Not only because he was in love with him (a fact he was slowly getting used to, having repeated the words so many times to himself) but because Seokmin was an incredibly fun person.

Without a doubt, every time they talked, Joshua would find himself laughing, either because of something he’d said or in response to Seokmin’s own laughter.

And as Seokmin continued talking, little laughs escaping him whenever he thought of something particularly funny, Joshua listened intently, the smile still on his face. Seokmin really did have such a wonderful laugh, he thought, a little fondly. Beautiful, like golden bursts of light.

“Poor Hansol’s gonna get dragged into Seungkwan’s whole thing, though,” Seokmin was saying, and then laughed. “He's so whipped that he’ll literally do anything that he wants, no questions asked.”

Joshua chuckled. “That sounds like a very Hansol thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin laughed, “So Seungkwan’s telling us to keep next weekend free. So of course, I’m gonna do my best to book up my entire weekend.”

Joshua chuckled, about to say something before blinking, Jeonghan’s weird information dump from earlier suddenly hitting him like a lightning bolt, as if someone had struck him on the head with it to remind him of Jeonghan’s words.

“Hey, Seokmin,” he said after a moment. “If you’re trying to book up your weekend, then do you want to go to the amusement park with me?”

A pause.

“Seokmin?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Seokmin sounded a little wheezy, like he’d run a marathon in those last three seconds of silence. “What did you say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to the amusement park with me,” Joshua repeated, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. If he started having a breakdown at that moment, there was a good chance that Seokmin would say no. Maybe. Probably.

Another pause.

“Seokmin?”

“Yes,” Seokmin replied, the word leaving him as a rush of air. “Sorry, hyung, there was just—something. I had something in my, uh, ear. But yes. I’d love to go to the amusement park with you next week.”

Joshua breathed a silent sigh of relief, the beginnings of a smile making the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “You would?”

“Yeah, of course I would!” Seokmin said a little too quickly, and then coughed. “I mean. Yes. You’re my favourite, how could I not?”

That made Joshua laugh, certain that Seokmin was teasing, just like how they always teased each other. “You’re my favourite too,” he said back, smiling. “Okay, in which case, I’ll book the tickets and text you the details, okay? Would you prefer Saturday or Sunday?”

“Any. We can even go both days so I can avoid Seungkwan’s trip, if you’d like,” Seokmin offered, and Joshua laughed again.

“Got it. Well, I guess it’s a date,” he said, too delighted at the prospect of spending time with Seokmin like this to fully process the words until they had left his mouth.

To his surprise, however, Seokmin didn’t seem to freak out, or pause for a scarily long time that made Joshua rethink his entire life’s decisions.

Instead, Seokmin laughed: a sweet, melting sound, all delicate and tiny, like little stars.

“I guess it’s a date,” he agreed, almost shy. Joshua didn’t get to dwell on it for long, though, because Seokmin was already launching into the next conversation topic that popped into his head, rambling about some new training regiment thing that Mingyu recently dragged him into that left him with an aching body for days on end.

And Joshua listened, the smile dancing across his lips, the blush warm on his cheeks, realising that he’d finally accepted that he was in love with Seokmin, now, and he wanted only one thing.

To stay close, by Seokmin’s side, and jump and fall right into his arms.

───────────── ‘✦,

“So that’s how I ended up securing this date,” Joshua finished, and Jeonghan stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

“You actually did it,” he said, the surprise evident in his tone. “Wow. I thought you’d chicken out again.”

Joshua punched Jeonghan in the shoulder, giving the man a wry smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said dryly. “This isn’t even a real date, though. I don’t know why you insisted on coming to drop me off.”

The two of them were waiting outside the amusement park entrance, because Joshua had told Jeonghan that he’d booked the tickets for himself and Seokmin, and the man had instantly insisted that he’d drive Joshua there and hear all about how it had happened.

So here they were, chatting and standing around, waiting for Seokmin to arrive.

Jeonghan shrugged. “I wanted to hear the story.”

“Of course you did,” Joshua said, not unkindly, a small smile raising the corners of his lips. “No but, also, I realised something, during that conversation.”

“What?”

“I had time to think it all over, right? And I was just thinking that I didn’t really want to run away from him,” Joshua explained. He smiled, his gaze distant. “I want to stay close to him. ‘Cause I really, really like him a lot.”

Jeonghan looked over at his best friend, noting the way his eyes had softened in the way they only did when he was thinking about Seokmin. He smiled to himself, before punching Joshua in the arm as payback, shaking the man out of his thoughts.

“Good,” Jeonghan said with a smile. “It’ll break Seokmin’s heart if you try to stay away from him.”

Joshua chuckled. “You’re saying that as if Seokmin has a crush on me.”

Jeonghan wiggled his eyebrows. “He might. Who knows? Maybe he’ll end up falling for your ridiculous charms today.”

Joshua laughed at that, properly, and then punched Jeonghan in the arm just because, prompting the two of them to get into a childish little punching fight. Eventually, Jeonghan conceded with a haughty sniff, as if he’d abruptly decided he was above such petty disputes.

Then he stuck his tongue out at Joshua, making him laugh.

“So, anyways,” Jeonghan said, simply carrying on with the previous conversation as if they’d never stopped, “remember. Seokmin likes the ferris wheel, so take him on it, will you? He might talk about it, but he’ll be too shy to offer to go on it, so you need to be the one who asks,” Jeonghan said.

“Why do I need to take him on the ferris wheel?”

“Because Seokmin wants it.”

“Oh.” Joshua thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that. Anything else?”

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, before shrugging. “Nothing that you don’t know already. He loves the snacks. Buy the matching headbands if he so much as mentions them. Don’t go on any roller coasters unless he sounds like he wants to go on them. Make sure that you win him at least one plushie otherwise he’ll sulk for hours.”

Joshua smiled a little at that, because he really did know all of that already. “Got it. It’s a good thing I’m better than you at those fairground games, huh?”

He received another punch on the arm for that comment.

“Shua hyung!”

A bright, delighted voice made him look up, however, and when he finally pinpointed the voice, there was Seokmin, a brilliant beam on his face as he ran over to where Joshua and Jeonghan were standing, and Joshua’s heart positively swelled at the sight.

“Hi,” Seokmin said, a little breathless, when he finally came to a stop beside him. His eyes were shining.

“Hi yourself,” Joshua said back, smiling.

Seokmin beamed, before seeming to finally notice Jeonghan’s presence, looking over at the elder who was watching them with a slight smirk on his face. Almost imperceptibly, the smile on Seokmin’s face wavered.

“Oh, Jeonghan hyung. Are you, uh, joining us?” he asked. “Is it gonna be me, Shua hyung… and you?”

Jeonghan blinked, and then chuckled. “No, no. I just came to drop Joshua off, and make sure you arrived safely too. I wouldn’t want to impose on your date.” He patted Joshua on the shoulder, and then pinched Seokmin’s cheek, steadfastly ignoring the way both of them looked a little flushed. “Be safe, you two. Don’t stay out too late.”

“It’s an amusement park, not a club,” Seokmin laughed, and he eagerly waved Jeonghan off, already interlinking his arm with Joshua’s. “Bye, hyung! Drive safely!”

Joshua watched Jeonghan go, and had the pleasure of having a scarily intense conversation through eye contact with him, one that was mainly full of messages of Be good to him and You better take that leap today otherwise I’m coming after you before Joshua finally turned away.

Damn. Jeonghan really could be intimidating when he wanted to.

“Well,” Seokmin said brightly, making Joshua look over at him. He looked like he was glowing with excitement. “Shall we go in?”

His lips lifted upwards, a soft pink curve of happiness, and Joshua smiled too, using their linked arms to ever-so-subtly pull Seokmin just a little closer into his side.

───────────── ‘✦,

“Oh, hyung, look at that! Are those balloons? Are they selling balloons?”

Going to an amusement park with Seokmin, Joshua was quickly realising, was a lot like venturing into a sweet shop with an excitable child.

Chaotic.

Seokmin was a ball of energy, bouncing on his feet and vibrating by Joshua’s side the moment they entered. The golden-brown puppy ears of the headband he was wearing bobbed up and down with his movements as he dragged Joshua around the park by the hand, eagerly pointing towards the man selling large, obnoxious metallic balloons like they were the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Joshua just laughed, letting Seokmin pull him along, the ears of his own headband flopping against his head. He was wearing a headband too, because of course he was, because Seokmin had picked up the white bunny ears and claimed that they fit him so well, so who was Joshua to refuse?

They almost looked like a couple, with their adorable headbands.

Thinking about it for too long made Joshua feel all squiggly and happy inside, though, so he tried not to think at all and instead let Seokmin do whatever he wanted.

“Can we buy one, Shua hyung? Please?” Seokmin asked, turning to Joshua with big, shining eyes, and really, it was like this entire day was trying to test whether Joshua really would never say no to Seokmin.

“Sure,” Joshua said, smiling when Seokmin’s eyes crinkled delightedly. “Which one do you want?”

Seokmin glowed. “That shiny strawberry one!”

And so, the rest of their date-not-date carried on. Joshua held onto the string of the strawberry balloon, following Seokmin around as the younger man bounced across the amusement park, hyped up on all the sugar that Joshua had been feeding him. Seokmin looked around the park with a child-like fascination, eyes big and round like he’d never been to an amusement park before, and it made Joshua laugh, endeared, offering Seokmin more candy floss and churros and letting Seokmin grab his wrist and pull him through the park.

“I haven’t been to an amusement park in ages,” Seokmin said to him when they were riding the carousel for the third time in a row. He leaned over to Joshua, bobbing up and down slowly on his horse, nudging the elder in the side with a grin. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Of course,” Joshua replied, eyes crinkling, patting Seokmin on the back. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Seokmin’s eyes sparkled. The flashy golden lights of the carousel made him look like he was glowing from an ethereal light within as he beamed widely.

“I’m having the best time,” Seokmin confirmed. “Way better than Seungkwan will, anyway.” Joshua tilted his head with a smile.

“Oh?”

“I bet the others are suffering right now,” Seokmin confided gleefully, as his horse gently rose up and down. “Seungkwan managed to beg Junhui hyung and Chan to come with him.”

“Wait. They really went to the beach?” Joshua asked, surprised.

“Mhm!” Seokmin nodded. “Kwan didn’t let Chan double-book himself, and then he went all sulky on Junhui until hyung caved. And then Hansol’s with him too, because duh.”

Joshua chuckled a little at that. “I can’t believe he went through with it. Well, it certainly is sunny today, so maybe they’ll still have a good time?”

Seokmin laughed. “It’s going to be so cold along the coast,” he said, delighted. “They’re gonna freeze!”

His obvious joy at their friends’ misfortunes was rather adorable, and it had Joshua laughing properly, the squeaky carousel music and Seokmin’s laughter ringing in his ears.

After they’d ridden the carousel thrice, Seokmin took Joshua to the photobooths, and then went hunting for more snacks, adamant about avoiding all the rollercoasters with a determined pout on his face that Joshua, devastatingly, thought was terribly cute.

Joshua was content to allow Seokmin to dictate whatever they did, paying close attention to the younger’s expressions, dutifully carrying around that strawberry balloon, buying snacks, watching a rip-off ‘Punch and Judy’ puppet show with him, and taking all the pictures for Seokmin whenever he wanted.

That was what they were doing right now, the balloon string tied around Joshua’s wrist so he could use both hands to take pictures of Seokmin with the giant shiba inu plushie that Joshua had just won him.

It had taken him a good half hour along with an obscene amount of money, and he’d almost given up countless times, but Seokmin was vibrating so hopefully by his side, so he’d carried on. Even when the guy manning the coconut shy stall looked at him like he was mad for putting so much effort into a silly fairground game, the look of utter joy on Seokmin’s face when Joshua handed the plushie to him more than made up for the struggle.

And it seemed that it was yet another item to add onto the list of ‘Ridiculous Things That Joshua Hong Would Do For Lee Seokmin’.

“Oh, wow, you look adorable,” Joshua said, amazed, as he looked through the photos he’d taken of Seokmin. “Look. The colours of your headband’s ears match the plushie, too.”

Seokmin leaned over, chin resting on his shoulder as he peered at the photos. “Oh, you’re right!” He laughed delightedly as Joshua handed the camera back to him. “Thank you so much, Shua hyung. These are so pretty.”

Joshua chuckled. You’re prettier, he wanted to say, but he swallowed the words down, smiling.

“It’s ‘cause the plushie is so pretty,” he teased, laughing as Seokmin glared at him. “Why? Do you not like it? Should I take the plushie away?”

Seokmin danced out of Joshua’s reach as the elder made as if to take the toy out of his arms. “No! No, never! You gave it to me, so it’s mine now,” he said, incredibly seriously, squishing the plushie protectively against his chest. “No take-backsies.”

He glared in faux anger, and Joshua laughed, relenting, putting his hands up placatingly. “Okay, okay, I won’t. Are you gonna give the plushie a name?”

“Hmm.” Instantly, the glare melted from Seokmin’s face, replaced by a thoughtful look as he drifted closer to Joshua again, patting the head of the shiba inu, bumping shoulders with him as he did so. “I’m not sure.”

“How about ‘Mingyu’?” Joshua suggested, grinning, chuckling when Seokmin elbowed him in the side.

“Never. He doesn’t get the honour of having the same name as something that Shua hyung won me,” Seokmin said, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he held the shiba inu up. “How about Seokmin Junior?”

Joshua wrinkled his nose at that, shaking his head. “No. That’s a terrible idea.”

Seokmin pouted, and Joshua just pinched his cheek affectionately, still thinking. He crossed his arms, and the movement made the metallic balloon (still tied to his wrist) shift too, the floating, bubblegum-pink strawberry balloon bumping against the side of his head. He looked over at it thoughtfully as he swatted it away.

“How about,” he said after a moment, “How about ‘Berry’?”

“Berry?” Seokmin repeated, and then looked at the plushie contemplatively. “Berry the shiba inu.” He looked up at Joshua, grinning. “I love it! It can be Berry the shiba inu.”

Joshua smiled, endeared by Seokmin’s sheer happiness as the younger hugged the plushie tight, pressing a kiss to its soft forehead. And then, because he couldn’t help it, he reached over and ruffled Seokmin’s hair fondly, and began to lead them away from the coconut stall.

“Alright. Where do you wanna go next, Seokmin?”

───────────── ‘✦,

They ended up in the line for the spinning teacups ride.

It was well and truly the afternoon now. They had been there since late morning, and Joshua’s feet kind of hurt from the amount of walking and standing they’d been doing, and even Seokmin was beginning to look a little uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.

Nevertheless, neither of them suggested going back home, and Joshua couldn’t help but feel a little touched at the notion that Seokmin wanted to spend time as just the two of them just as much as Joshua did.

So here they were, patiently waiting in line, because Seokmin had suddenly gotten an eager, shining look in his eyes and insisted that he wanted to ride the spinning teacups even when Joshua had told him that it might make him sick. But Seokmin had been adamant, so here they were, leaning against the railing and watching the people getting into the teacups.

“Remember when we all went to the amusement park a few summers ago?” Seokmin was asking. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, vibrating. “It was so hot that day, and half of the rides had been shut down for maintenance, but we made the most of it.”

Joshua smiled a little. It had been a fun outing. They didn’t go out with all thirteen of them often, because it was a huge group of people to manage, but whenever they did, they split up into smaller groups for most of the day.

“You weren’t in our group, unfortunately,” Seokmin carried on, a smile spreading across his face as he reminisced, “but, oh, I really wish you had been! Myungho lost a game of rock, paper, scissors and had to be the one to go on this teacup ride with Jeonghan a total of seven times in a row. Seven!”

Joshua laughed as Seokmin animatedly recounted the event, his eyes round and earnest as he delightedly told Joshua all about how queasy Minghao had felt afterwards and how as karma, later on, Jeonghan ended up getting utterly soaked on the water boat ride.

Seokmin always recounted every story like it was the most important thing in the world, with a sincerity that was rather adorable, and Joshua would be lying if he denied paying attention to the gentle curl of Seokmin’s lips and the way they softened into the most endearing pout as he formed certain words.

He had a very soft mouth, Joshua thought idly. Despite the amount of talking Seokmin did, Joshua thought he had very kissable lips.

It would probably ruin a thousand things if he leaned in and kissed Seokmin right then and there, unfortunately, but oh, how much Joshua really, really wanted to.

Stars in his eyes, he watched as Seokmin talked animatedly, seemingly oblivious to the way that Joshua's entire inner monologue was nothing more than a chant of “please kiss me please kiss me please kiss me” repeating over and over again.

“So,” Seokmin finished, clasping his hands together, and Joshua finally zoned back into his ramblings. “I’m hoping our experience goes better, hyung!”

Joshua blinked, having heard the words that Seokmin was saying but only able to think of how utterly adorable he looked with his eyes shining like that. So as Seokmin beamed, bright and beautiful, he just smiled, reaching over and pinching Seokmin’s cheek, endeared.

“Of course,” Joshua said, and then winked cheesily. “Don’t worry. I’m here to protect you, Min-ah.”

Seokmin stared at him, his gaze coloured with playful disgust and another emotion that Joshua couldn’t quite name. He was about to say something else before the line finally started moving again, and it was at last their turn.

“Oh, hyung! Hyung, it’s finally us!” Seokmin exclaimed, delighted, the earlier emotion completely dissolving, replaced by giddy excitement. “Come on, we gotta go sit in the cup that spins the most!”

Seokmin dragged Joshua into the teacup that he claimed he’d seen spin the fastest, and after the brief safety introductions, the ride finally began.

“We have to spin it as hard as we can, okay,” Seokmin said, incredibly seriously. “Okay, hyung? Can you do that?”

“Of course. Can you?” Joshua teased, and Seokmin rolled his eyes.

“Duh! Hey, move over, you're taking up so much room on the wheel. Why are your hands so big?”

“As if you don't have huge hands too, Seokmin-ah—”

They bickered over having enough space on the wheel to spin it properly, but it didn’t take long for them to get going.

Seokmin relinquished control over the wheel a few seconds into the ride and Joshua ended up with both hands on it, spinning them around at a rate that was definitely not good for anyone's stomach because Seokmin kept on insisting they go as fast as possible even though he genuinely sounded close to tears and—well. This was the reason that Seokmin didn't go on rides often.

He was screaming with laughter, mouth open wide and refusing to close, and Joshua hardly thought he was able to breathe with how much he was laughing. Seokmin’s hands had slipped from the wheel and had instead found purchase in Joshua's shirt, doing nothing other than clinging to him and curling into his side, still screaming the entire time, sounding like he was both scared out of his mind and having the time of his life.

“Seokmin? Seokmin! Should I slow down?” Joshua yelled, because the wind was whipping in his ears, and he was sure that they looked like utter idiots to anyone who was watching them in the line.

Seokmin just screamed even louder, eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head rapidly and holding Joshua’s shirt like a lifeline. “If you slow down, I’m going to kill you!”

Joshua just laughed, tugging the wheel so hard that he almost sprained his wrist, but it made Seokmin yelp and squeeze himself further into Joshua’s side, the screams dissolving into laughs, and the bright, overjoyed sound was all that filled Joshua’s ears.

It was beautiful. Joshua was reminded, yet again, just how much he loved Seokmin’s laugh.

If it were up to him, then for as long as he lived, Joshua would make sure that Seokmin would always, always have a reason to laugh like this.

Eventually, the ride came to a stop, and Joshua let the wheel go, allowing the teacup to slow down at its own pace, the pink-fond chuckles lingering on his lips as Seokmin continued laughing, forehead pressed against Joshua’s shoulder.

“Oh, my God,” Seokmin breathed out in between giggles, breathless from how much he’d been laughing and screaming. “Wow.”

They exited the teacup, wobbling and stumbling around like baby deer on new, spindly legs, and Seokmin just giggled uncontrollably at his own uncoordinated state.

“We left the stuff over there, Seokmin,” Joshua said, staggering forward on unsteady feet towards where they’d left the shiba inu and the giant strawberry balloon and their headbands, because Seokmin had fretted that they'd lose them if they wore them on the teacups.

He tugged on Seokmin’s arm, because the man was walking in the completely opposite direction. The younger stumbled into him with a giggle.

“I knew that,” Seokmin laughed, and he sounded mildly drunk, the sound giddy and loud and making Joshua chuckle. As Seokmin grasped the balloon tied to the fence, however, he tripped on his feet, hands giving the balloon a sharp tug and suddenly, somehow, there was a loud pop as the balloon inexplicably burst in Seokmin’s hands.

They both jumped, and Seokmin stared wide-eyed at where the popped balloon pieces were scattered across the floor, plastic string in his hand, before turning to look at Joshua.

“Oh,” Joshua said, after a moment, and that was all it took for Seokmin to start giggling.

“It popped,” he laughed, almost in disbelief. “Hyung, the balloon popped!”

“What did you do?” Joshua asked, laughing a little as he shook his head, amazed. “How did you manage to pop the balloon just like that?”

Seokmin shrugged, giggles subsiding as he just grinned at the string in his hands. “I dunno. That’s so weird.” He pouted suddenly. “Aw, no, that means my strawberry balloon’s all gone.”

“There, there,” Joshua said consolingly, placing the puppy ears back on Seokmin’s head before picking up the plushie and handing it towards him too, beginning to lead them out of the spinning teacups area—albeit rather slowly, since they were both still wobbly on their feet. “But look, you still have Berry the shiba inu with you, don’t you?”

Instantly, Seokmin brightened, though it took a second for him to be able to hold the plushie without dropping it. He blinked his eyes hard several times, gaze focusing and unfocusing on the shiba inu as he pouted in concentration to get his vision steady again. Joshua could almost see the little cartoon birds flying in circles around his head as he kept a wobbly pace next to Joshua, grinning dopily down at the plushie before directing that same grin up at Joshua too.

Adorable.

It took several minutes, along with a good sitting-down session on a nearby bench, but eventually both of them stopped feeling like the world was being rattled around like a snow globe, and they sat side by side in comfortable silence as they watched the people walk by.

The sky was streaked with yellows now. It was nearing the end of the day, and Joshua calculated that they probably had time for one last game or snack before they eventually had to leave.

Then, his date-not-date with Seokmin would be over.

Hm. Joshua glanced over at Seokmin, heart twisting sadly. That was a sad thought.

“Seokmin,” Joshua said, nudging Seokmin in the side, “we’re gonna have to leave soon. Is there anything you want to do before we have to go?”

Seokmin turned to him, and Joshua had the wind knocked out of him for a second because wow, Seokmin was so pretty. The sun hadn’t dipped quite low enough for it to be classed as a sunset just yet, but the grey-yellow light across Seokmin’s face brought his cheekbones into sharp relief, silvery shadows being painted down his cheeks from his eyelashes every time he blinked, the soft shape of his mouth scrunched up in thought.

Humming contemplatively, Seokmin’s gaze slid away from him for a moment, and now that he was no longer staring right into the eyes of the most beautiful person on Earth, Joshua felt like he could finally breathe a little easier.

“Let’s do something that Shua hyung wants to do,” Seokmin said, smiling, and Joshua’s poor heart jumped into his throat once again.

“Something that I want to do?” Joshua asked, a little croaky. “Do you not have anything that you want?”

Seokmin just shrugged, smiling, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he ducked his head. “We’ve been doing the stuff that I wanted to do all day,” he said. “We should do something that Shua hyung wants, too.”

Joshua’s lips quirked into a fond smile, and he resisted the urge to tell Seokmin that all he wanted was to see Seokmin happy.

Instead, he just pinched Seokmin’s cheek affectionately, and gazed out at the rest of the park, looking around for something that he’d like to do.

But, as always, his gaze drifted back to Seokmin again. Seokmin, who had his eyes fixed on one certain structure in the distance, looking at it almost wistfully, and Joshua remembered what Jeonghan had told him several hours before.

“How about the ferris wheel?” he suggested softly, and smiled a little at the way that Seokmin instantly whipped his head round to blink at him, wide-eyed.

“The ferris wheel?”

“Do you not want to?” Joshua asked, double-checking, because while he was 90% sure that Jeonghan would never feed him false information that would make Seokmin uncomfortable, it was always good to make sure that he was really okay with it. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No! No, I—I want to.” Seokmin swallowed, and there were stars in his eyes. “I wanna ride the ferris wheel with you, hyung.”

Joshua smiled, heart feeling full to bursting as he reached over and brushed away the hair that fell into Seokmin’s eyes. Then he held out his hand, smiling impossibly wider when Seokmin reached for him without the slightest hesitation.

“Come on, then. Let’s go.”

───────────── ‘✦,

The line for the ferris wheel was relatively short, given the fact that it wasn’t long before the amusement park shut for the day, and Joshua and Seokmin didn’t have to stand in line for long before it was their turn.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Joshua checked for the fifth time as they boarded the carriage. “It goes relatively high, Seokmin. If you don’t want to, then it’s fine.”

Seokmin laughed as they each sat down on a bench in the carriage. “I’m fine, I promise. I think it’s a bit too late to get off, anyways,” he said as the wheel slowly began moving. “Besides,” he added, a little shyer, “I really did want to ride the ferris wheel with you, hyung.”

Aw.

“Aw,” Joshua said out loud, and it came out more adoring and in-love than he’d intended. He coughed. “That’s so cute, Min-ah. You wanted to spend time with hyung like this, hm?” he tacked on, grinning teasingly and leaning forward to ruffle Seokmin’s hair and tug at the puppy ears of his headband in an attempt to mask his previous sincerity.

The younger man didn’t pull a face and try to lean away, however, unlike how he normally acted around Joshua’s exaggerated coddling. Instead, he just smiled, eyes crinkling, shoulders rising towards his ears bashfully, and he really looked like a small, shy puppy.

“Yeah,” he said, the sunlight golden on his face. “Yeah, I did.”

The sun was very much beginning to set now. Yellow light was replaced by something warmer, and the coppery colours spilled in through the windows of their carriage as the wheel continued spinning them all the way to the top.

Joshua checked on Seokmin constantly, making sure that he wasn’t too scared by the heights, but the man seemed to genuinely be having a great time, staring out of the window with wide eyes, Berry the shiba inu sitting forgotten on the seat next to him.

“It all looks so pretty,” Seokmin said, voice hushed in awe. “Look, hyung, you can see all the places we went to from up here!”

Joshua leaned over to look down at where Seokmin was pointing. “Oh, wow. We’re so high up.” He looked at Seokmin again. “Are you really sure that you’re okay?”

Seokmin laughed a little, raising his gaze to look at Joshua. The golden sunset spilled caramel-coloured light across his irises.

“I’m really fine,” he promised, eyes crinkling. He reached out for Joshua’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “It’s okay, ‘cause Shua hyung's here with me, isn't he?”

He squeezed Joshua’s hand, once, and then turned back to the window, and Joshua’s ears positively burned.

The wheel spun them a total of three times, and on the third round, Seokmin finally leaned away from the window, sitting back in his seat and beaming at Joshua. Joshua blinked back, and tried to pretend that he hadn’t been gazing adoringly at him the whole time.

“Thank you for bringing me here today,” Seokmin said, all sweet and sentimental and sincere. “It’s been so much fun.”

“Of course,” Joshua responded simply, smiling. “I’m just glad you had fun, Seokmin.”

Seokmin beamed, then, and Joshua smiled back, and they sat there smiling at each other for a good few seconds longer before the ferris wheel creaked to a stop at the top of its rotation for the third and final time.

“Oh!” Seokmin’s eyes lit up, and he scrambled to reach for his phone. “We need to take our last pictures of the day before the ride finishes.” He nudged Berry to the side, and then patted the empty space next to him. “Shua hyung, come sit here.”

And so Joshua went, squishing between Seokmin and the plushie, and he’d barely had time to make himself comfortable before Seokmin was huddling even closer into his side, phone raised in front of their faces.

He let Seokmin bully him into as many different poses as he wanted, with v-poses and finger hearts and cute little pouty faces that were utterly adorable on Seokmin. Eventually, Seokmin lowered his phone, but before Joshua could get up and return to his own side of the carriage, Seokmin was holding his hand, interlacing their fingers to keep Joshua by his side.

Joshua looked down at their hands, and then up at Seokmin, but the younger just blinked innocently at him.

“The sunset looks so pretty,” Seokmin said suddenly, and Joshua looked behind him to follow Seokmin’s line of gaze.

And then he looked back at Seokmin, watching the sunset light his skin up gold.

“Very pretty,” he agreed.

Seokmin’s lips twitched up into an almost wistful smile, as his gaze slid away from the window to look at Joshua, eyes sparkling.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Seokmin said again, smiling. “I think it’s prettier because I’m here with you.”

Joshua chuckled, squeezing Seokmin’s hand once. “Of course,” he said, and Seokmin smiled even wider. “Anything you see will be prettier because of me, you know.”

Seokmin’s eyes crinkled. “Really?”

Joshua quirked a grin. “I’m just that handsome.”

The wheel was slowly descending now, the warm sunset light dipping behind the tall amusement park structures, and Joshua had the most beautiful view of the rays brushing and fading away from Seokmin’s face.

“So,” Joshua continued, mesmerised by Seokmin’s smile, “I think you should only see these pretty things with me. So they’ll always look even prettier.”

His words hung suspended in the air, golden and full of eternal promise, and Seokmin’s eyes widened. Joshua’s eyes widened at his own words, too, stunned at how his internal thoughts had somehow escaped his lips, but every syllable rang true. He wanted to see these beautiful things with Seokmin and Seokmin alone.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin whispered, eyes meltingly warm. And then he didn’t say anything else.

He truly was just so beautiful, Joshua thought. With his sunlight-clear smile and those eyes, big and glittering and crystalline: Seokmin’s eyes that captured Joshua’s own and kept him mesmerised, unable to do anything other than gaze adoringly as Seokmin did anything at all.

And those very same eyes were the ones holding Joshua in place right at that moment, so awed that he hadn’t even noticed that Seokmin had drawn closer. He was so close that there was merely a miniscule distance between them, and Joshua could count every one of Seokmin’s lashes again, so close he could see the way they fluttered nervously as he took a quiet breath in.

So close that eventually, the miniscule distance between them became no distance at all.

Seokmin kissed him, gently, slowly, a warm press of lips on lips that had Joshua simultaneously melting and freezing up because Seokmin was kissing him. Seokmin was kissing him.

And, oh, his lips truly did taste as soft as they looked.

It was heart-achingly sweet, and only Seokmin would have been able to kiss him so chastely and yet still make his brain crash and shut down because of it. He wanted to have Seokmin’s lips on his forever, to lick into his plush mouth and find out what Seokmin liked and what he adored, wanted to press him against the wall of the carriage and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him—

Seokmin pulled away, then, before Joshua even had a chance to pull him closer and kiss him in the way that he deserved.

He blinked, dazed, far too disoriented to even think of forming words, and it was a little crazy how Seokmin managed to render him utterly non-functional after such a brief kiss.

Only Seokmin, truly.

But he was staring at Joshua now, eyes bright and almost hopeful, and the terrible thing was that Joshua’s brain was still in its melting, post-’first kiss with the love of his life’ state, and he had no idea what Seokmin could be hoping for.

He coughed, licked his lips, heartbeat thrumming far too loudly in his head.

“Huh,” he said, incredibly eloquently. “Oh.”

It was an “Oh” of utter besottedness, Seokmin having successfully removed Joshua’s ability to form proper words, but it turned out to be the wrong thing to say because he watched, confused and worried, as the light slipped off of Seokmin’s face in an instant.

“Oh,” Seokmin echoed, but the syllable sounded utterly heartbroken as it fell from his lips. “Oh, no.”

Joshua blinked as Seokmin backed away, scrambling to kick-start his brain back into action. “Wait,” he said. “Wait, wh—”

“I’m so sorry,” Seokmin rushed out, and he dropped Joshua’s hand like he’d been burned. “Sorry, sorry, please forget about that, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Wait,” Joshua said again, still not quite comprehending what was going on. “Seokmin-ah, you don’t n—”

He tried to move forward, and Seokmin instantly stumbled back, plastering himself against the back wall of the carriage. It rocked slightly, swinging back and forth, but still Seokmin stayed against the wall, like he wanted to be as far away from Joshua as possible.

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, yet again. “I just— You took me out for this whole day, and I thought— But then I— And then you didn’t— So obviously you don’t feel like that and I’m just so, so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, hyung, please just forget that happened.”

And oh, now Joshua realised, and his eyes widened in panic, because Seokmin had gotten everything completely wrong.

“No, wait, Seokmin, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Seokmin didn’t seem to hear him, continuing to babble apologies over and over again, the syllables blurring together as his eyes also seemed to blur with tears.

This was really, really not good. Seokmin had leaned in and kissed him, and what had Joshua done? He’d just sat there and let himself be kissed, and when Seokmin pulled away, he’d done nothing but mumble a small “Oh” that could have been interpreted in a whole range of different ways.

And Seokmin had interpreted it in the worst way possible.

Joshua opened his mouth, and had half a mind to just surge forward and kiss Seokmin again to show him the truth when the carriage door swung open, and the park attendant was standing in the doorway and politely asking for them to leave.

Instantly, Seokmin took the opportunity to grab Berry and lunge past him to make his escape, and Joshua wanted to wring his hands together in desperation.

“Seokmin!” Joshua called out, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to exit the carriage. “Seokmin, I— Wait!”

He caught up with Seokmin as he was speed-walking through the park back towards the entrance, resting a hand on his shoulder and hating how Seokmin instantly flinched back.

“Hyung, please—”

“Seokmin,” Joshua said, softly. “Listen to me.”

Seokmin visibly swallowed, holding Berry tight. His eyes were big, almost looking like they were turning down at the edges and, coupled with the ears headband he was still wearing, he looked far too much like a devastated puppy that Joshua felt his heart tighten in his throat.

“Seokmin,” Joshua started again. “You don’t have to feel bad about it. I… I didn’t mind it.”

Joshua smiled gently, but to his horror, Seokmin’s eyes began to well up with tears.

“I really am sorry for what I did, hyung,” he said, voice wobbly. “You don’t have to say those things to try and make me feel better. I’m okay. It’s okay. I know that what I did was wrong so please—please just leave me alone.”

And with that, he stepped back, and began to make a dash towards the park entrance again, leaving Joshua standing there, dumbfounded.

“Wh—Seokmin!”

Seokmin didn’t listen to him. He continued speeding towards the entrance as Joshua called out to him, even as groups of people blocked his path and he walked into a small child more times than he could count.

How had Seokmin managed to misunderstand what Joshua was saying so, so horribly? With a helpless sigh, Joshua watched as Seokmin disappeared around the corner, before promptly apologising to the little girl he’d bumped into and beginning to follow Seokmin again.

Joshua managed to get to the amusement park entrance at last, just as Seokmin seemed to be trying to leave without talking to him at all.

“Seokmin,” Joshua said desperately, jogging up until he was standing in front of him, preventing Seokmin from walking off into the late evening. “Please, listen to me. You don’t have to feel all guilty like this. Let me—”

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Seokmin said, cutting him off yet again, and Joshua wanted to cry in desperation.“It’s okay, Shua hyung, I’m okay. You don’t have to try and comfort me.”

“No, Seokmin, listen, I actually—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Seokmin said, and tried to smile, but his voice trembled too much for it to seem genuine. “I’m so sorry for doing that to you. I’m really sorry, so I hope you don’t feel too d-disgusted.”

His voice hiccupped on the last word, and oh, Seokmin was properly crying now, the sadness spilling out of the corners of his eyes and dimming their shine.

Joshua had made him cry.

“Just let me go home, hyung, please,” Seokmin said, quiet, and the soft begging tone in his voice made Joshua’s heart plummet to the depths of the Earth.

He swallowed thickly. “At least come home with me and Jeonghan,” he said, giving up on trying to talk to Seokmin about this. “I don’t want you going home by bus, all by yourself. Especially when you’re like this.”

Seokmin didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then nodded, lips pressed tight together as the tears continued silently spilling down his cheeks.

It made Joshua’s throat feel tight. Unthinkingly, he reached over and brushed at the wetness under Seokmin’s eyes, flinching back when Seokmin skittered away at his touch.

“Sorry,” he whispered, voice thick. Seokmin didn’t reply.

They walked back to the entrance, and Joshua texted Jeonghan to let him know they were finished and wanted to go home. And then, with nothing left to do, they loitered around, waiting for Jeonghan to arrive, a stiff silence falling between them.

There was a great deal that Joshua wanted to say, countless words to explain himself and tell Seokmin just how terribly, terribly in love he was with him.

This was all a terrible misunderstanding, he wanted to say, and he was totally okay with the kiss. More than okay, and in fact, he wanted nothing more than to kiss Seokmin again and again for all of eternity.

He looked up at Seokmin, who was quivering a few feet away from him, clutching the plushie like a lifeline as he stared resolutely out at the car park. A chill was setting in now that the sun had gone down, but Joshua knew that Seokmin’s shivers had less to do with the cold and more to do with something else.

Couldn’t Seokmin see? Just how much he had Joshua wrapped around his finger? Had him clinging to every syllable that fell from his lips, every twinkle of his eye, every bright, ringing laugh?

It was truly bewildering, how Seokmin apparently had no idea. Joshua wanted to explain this to him, wanted to tell him just how deeply he'd managed to fall for him, but the feelings of warmth and light and clean-cut gold were far too big and precious for words.

He wanted to try, because he truly would do anything for Seokmin, but right now, there was no point. Not when Seokmin wasn’t in a state to truly understand.

Jeonghan arrived some minutes later, pulling up near the park entrance, and Seokmin wordlessly climbed into the shotgun seat while Joshua sat in the back. Jeonghan beamed, entirely oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

“So, how did your day go?” he asked, all pleasant. “Did you guys have fun?”

Seokmin simply buried his face into the plushie.

“Can you just take me home, please?” Seokmin whispered, voice muffled, but there was no way that Jeonghan wouldn't have been able to hear the tears in his voice.

Jeonghan’s expression changed, and instantly, he eyed Joshua in the rearview mirror, his gaze a searing accusation. Joshua just winced helplessly, and hoped that the desperation in his eyes could help soften Jeonghan’s glare just a little.

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes, before turning to Seokmin again, gaze softening. “I like your headband,” he said gently, tugging at one brown puppy ear. “They suit you.”

Seokmin didn't look up from the shiba inu. He gave a small, wet sniff.

Jeonghan looked back at Joshua, observing the white bunny ears headband which were on his head, and then the pieces in his head began to click together, and he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Joshua just stared back.

Pulling out away from the amusement park, Jeonghan glanced over at Seokmin and then at Joshua through the mirror again, before giving a sigh. The “I’ll talk to Seokmin” was clear in his eyes, and Joshua’s shoulders sagged in relief.

Whilst Joshua really, really wanted to talk this over with Seokmin himself, he knew that Seokmin wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to him. But still, there was a chance that he would be able to listen to his beloved Jeonghan hyung who, hopefully, would be able to express a calm thought process that Seokmin would listen to, even if he wasn’t willing to listen to Joshua.

That was okay, though. Because Joshua didn't even know how he would express his thoughts, other than perhaps screaming “I really really like having your lips on mine and I kind of want to kiss you forever”, and he thought that that maybe wasn't the best way to explain how he felt.

Thank you, he said with his eyes, when Jeonghan looked back at him again.

Jeonghan just nodded once, and looked over at Seokmin again before turning back to the road.

The car was silent for the entire ride back.

───────────── ‘✦,

“I’m already on it,” Joshua said, when he opened the door to Jeonghan standing on his doorstep the next morning.

Jeonghan blinked, and then shut his mouth with an audible click, nodding approvingly and stepping into Joshua’s apartment. “Good,” he said. “I’m proud of you, Joshuji.”

Last night, Jeonghan had dropped Joshua off home first, with a silent message of “We’ll talk tomorrow” in his eyes. It had been clear that Jeonghan had wanted to spend that evening talking with Seokmin first, which Joshua thought was a good idea since Seokmin had definitely been the most visibly distressed out of them.

Even now, though it had been over twelve hours since Joshua had last seen him, the memory of Seokmin’s tears still made his chest feel tight.

As it was, he hadn’t had the chance to talk to Jeonghan until today. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been busy thinking of ways to resolve this whole situation, though.

“You need to make things up to him as soon as possible,” Jeonghan said as he took off his shoes.

“I know. That's why I'm already on it.”

Jeonghan nodded again, mildly pleased, before his face melted back into a frown.

“Still, I wanna say that you’re both idiots,” he informed him. “Both you and Seokmin. Utter idiots.”

“Thanks,” Joshua remarked dryly, and walked back into the kitchen, Jeonghan trailing behind him.

“You’re welcome. So you better be planning a really good thing to make it up to Seokmin, because otherwise—oh my God. Are you baking?”

Jeonghan stood there, surprised, looking at the mixing bowl and the bags of sugar and flour and the baking trays, lined with greaseproof paper, neatly placed on the table as everything else overflowed across Joshua’s counter.

Joshua grinned, pleased at Jeonghan’s surprise. “Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies,” he said, picking up the mixing bowl again. “Seokmin’s favourite.”

“Huh.” Jeonghan smiled, nodding approvingly. “Good choice.” He sat down at the table, watching as Joshua continued mixing the cookie batter.

“I know,” Joshua said, a little proud, looking up from the bowl to smile at Jeonghan, all bashful and dusty pink cheeks. “I figured that they might help cheer him up.”

Cute, Jeonghan thought, and then his heart melted at the idea of Joshua baking for Seokmin. There was something so domestic about that, and he knew that Seokmin would really love it.

Seokmin had been utterly distraught yesterday, tears quietly streaming down his face as he recounted the “disastrous” events in a wobbly voice. Jeonghan had feared the worst: Seokmin, for all his gentleness and emotional openness, still hated to cry around other people. So for him to burst into tears in front of Joshua and Jeonghan, it meant that something truly terrible had happened, and Jeonghan was more than ready to (get Seungcheol to) gently beat up Joshua for being the cause of his tears.

Jeonghan thought it would be something horrific, like Joshua had… well, done something really bad. He hadn’t actually had an idea of what Joshua could have done, but he’d been terrified all the same.

He had definitely not been prepared for what Seokmin had told him instead.

“What’re you gonna do with the cookies?” Jeonghan asked, leaning forwards as Joshua set down the bowl, looking for spoons to use to scoop the batter onto the trays.

“I’m going over to his place today,” Joshua said, rummaging through the drawers. “And I’m going to talk this out with him. No matter what it takes.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, smiling a little, a curious sense of pride swelling up inside of him. “No matter what it takes?”

“No matter what it takes,” Joshua confirmed, turning back to face Jeonghan, spoons in hand. “I won’t run away anymore. Seokmin deserves to know that I love him too.”

“I definitely think so,” Jeonghan said, and his tone was dry but his smile was warm. “Especially considering the fact that he kissed you yesterday and then proceeded to have a breakdown because you didn’t kiss him back.”

Joshua winced. “Let’s not talk about last night.”

Jeonghan shrugged. “I think it was a good bonding experience.”

“I don’t need a bonding experience. Seokmin and I are already friends.” Joshua furrowed his eyebrows. “How was that a good bonding experience, anyway?”

“Hey, at least now you know that Seokmin’s as pathetically in love with you as you are with him,” Jeonghan pointed out. “I think you should look on the bright side, Joshuji.”

“I think you’re talking too much,” Joshua said, waving the spoons beratingly at Jeonghan. “If you’re gonna be in my home, then you need to help me. Come on, get some spoons and make the cookies with me. Why are you even here, anyway?”

Jeonghan begrudgingly stood up, rolling up his sleeves. “I came here to see whether I needed to beat you up or not.”

Joshua snorted. “You and those noodle arms?”

“I was assessing the situation first,” Jeonghan said, and sniffed disdainfully. “If you didn’t show evidence that you were trying to make amends instantly, I would have.”

“Good thing I was making cookies then.”

“Exactly. I also came to check up on you, though,” Jeonghan added more sincerely. “To see how you were doing after being kissed by the love of your life.”

That made Joshua chuckle, beginning to spoon the batter onto the trays laid out on the table. He nudged Jeonghan in the side, a silent demand for him to start helping, and Jeonghan reluctantly complied.

“I’m fine. I had my entire worldview altered because apparently Seokmin likes me back, but other than that, I’m doing great,” Joshua said with a grin, and Jeonghan laughed.

“See? A good bonding experience.”

Joshua shook his head, still smiling. “Yeah. A great bonding experience. 0/10, would definitely recommend.”

The sarcasm made Jeonghan laugh again, looking over at his best friend as he diligently bent down over the baking tray, making cookies for the person he was in love with, big hands having turned soft with gentleness and care.

Joshua’s hair was all over the place, as if he’d rolled out of bed and then immediately started making cookies for Seokmin without even stopping once. Half of his bangs were falling in his eyes but he hardly seemed to notice, and he straightened up to blink at Jeonghan, who was standing there with the spoons unmoving in his hands.

“If you don’t want to help, then you can just say so,” Joshua said wryly, eyes twinkling. “Though Seokmin might be heartbroken when I tell him that his favourite hyung didn’t help make the cookies.”

Jeonghan snapped out of his reverie, busying himself with helping Joshua. “You’re Seokmin’s favourite hyung. You know that,” he retorted, a little sulkily. Though he’d long ago accepted it, he was still a little annoyed that Joshua had stolen one of his dongsaengs from him.

“Nonsense. He was your friend before he was mine, wasn’t he?”

“That means nothing,” Jeonghan said dismissively, waving a spoon around and accidentally flinging cookie dough into the wall. “Whoops. Anyway, you’ve been Seokmin’s favourite since day one, Shuji. Surely you know that.”

Joshua sighed long-sufferingly at the spoonful of wet mixture sliding down his wall. “You’re cleaning that up later.”

“Sure. But seriously, he’s always been in love with you. I promise.” Jeonghan punched Joshua lightly in the arm. “Why are you thinking so much about this, anyway? You know that he loves you.”

“Hm.” Joshua twisted his lips thoughtfully, and he gazed off into the distance, eyes going melty soft and Jeonghan just knew that he was thinking about Seokmin.

Disgusting, Jeonghan thought affectionately. It reminded him of the way that Seokmin’s eyes never failed to shine just a little brighter whenever he thought of or talked about Joshua, even when he was in tears. These two truly were made for each other.

“Seokmin thinks the world of you, you know,” Jeonghan said gently. “He always has. Ever since he first met you.”

Joshua’s face, somehow, melted even further at that. Jeonghan had been worried that his silence was a sign of insecurities creeping in, a sign of his hesitancy to continue taking that leap for Seokmin, but Joshua’s face was softening into the softest, sweetest smile, and Jeonghan knew that there was nothing that could deter Joshua now.

“Well,” Joshua said, light and full of love, “It’s a good thing that I think the world of him too.”

───────────── ‘✦,

It was some hours later that Joshua ended up on Seokmin’s doorstep, wondering whether he should ring the doorbell or lift his hand and knock.

Jeonghan had shooed him out of the apartment (Joshua’s own apartment) with a pat on the head and a half-serious threat to “Go make out with Seokmin or there will be consequences”, pushing the basket into his hands and telling him to just be himself.

Apparently Seokmin liked that, or something.

So Joshua now stood at Seokmin’s doorstep, resisting the urge to rock back and forth on his heels as he contemplated which would be the best way to drag Seokmin out of his wallowing.

He hadn't been nervous when Jeonghan had come over, too focused on making Seokmin his favourite cookies and thinking about how he needed to make Seokmin not sad as soon as possible, but now that he was here, he had to admit that there were definitely a few butterflies in his stomach.

Confessing to the love of your life was no easy task, after all.

But, like always, Joshua would do anything for Seokmin, anything at all, so after taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and pressed the doorbell.

It took a few moments, but the door eventually clicked open to reveal Seokmin, sleepily rubbing his eyes, nose scrunching adorably as he suppressed a big yawn.

“Jeonghan hyung, I told you, I’m f…”

His voice trailed off as he realised who was standing at his door, and his eyes widened, the sleepiness falling away from his face almost instantly. Joshua smiled, a little awkwardly, giving Seokmin a wave.

“Hello.”

Seokmin stared at him, and then began to slowly edge behind his door, hiding behind it until only his face was visible. “You… You’re not Jeonghan hyung.”

“I’m not,” Joshua agreed, and his heart twisted at how Seokmin had instantly retreated away once he learned that it was Joshua at his door. “Is it okay if I come in? I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.”

Clutching the edge of the door a little tighter, Seokmin squeaked out a small “Oh dear” that Joshua had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

“Maybe we shouldn’t?” Seokmin suggested meekly. He retreated further behind the door, hiding away so that Joshua couldn’t see his face anymore. “Maybe… Maybe that’s not a good idea.”

Joshua bit his lip. “Please?” he asked. “I even baked you cookies. If you want them.”

A pause. And then Seokmin slowly peeked out from behind the door, eyes widening in surprise as he noticed the basket in Joshua’s hands before his gaze dropped to the floor again. He shook his head.

“Please just go. Shua hyung, please let me—Let me deal with this by myself first,” Seokmin said softly.

It sounded so gentle and reasonable when he said it like that, and Joshua would have believed it, would have accepted it, if he didn’t know Seokmin as well as he did. But Joshua did know him, knew him like the soul that fit perfectly against his own, and he knew that Seokmin was using this as an excuse to wallow in his sadness. He’d only make himself more miserable if Joshua let him be.

“Please,” Joshua said again, pleading. “I think we should talk about this. Please, will you let me in?”

Seokmin swallowed but didn’t say anything, gaze still directed at Joshua’s shoes rather than his face. His fingers pressed into the side of the door as he clung to it, still not quite opening it fully, but Joshua felt a little comforted by the fact that Seokmin was considering it.

“Min-ah,” Joshua said softly, ducking his head to get Seokmin to meet his gaze. Seokmin blinked in surprise, but he didn’t look away. Joshua straightened slowly, and smiled as Seokmin continued to keep his eyes on him. “Please. I’m not mad about what happened, I promise. I just think that you and I need to talk. Please, Min-ah?”

Seokmin’s eyes widened even further at the nickname, a splotchy blush reddening the apples of his cheeks in a way that was still utterly endearing in Joshua’s eyes. And then he nodded, opening the door wider. “Okay. Okay… you can come in.”

Joshua smiled again, a smile of relief as he stepped into Seokmin’s apartment, clutching the basket of cookies in his hands.

“It’s a little messy,” Seokmin said, a little sheepishly as he led Joshua through the apartment. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone. I didn’t think anyone would come over.”

“That’s okay. I wanted to check up on you.”

Seokmin looked over at Joshua, too many colours swirling in his irises before he blinked rapidly and looked away,

“Oh. Thank you.”

As Seokmin led them to sit on his couch, however, Joshua realised that he hadn't really planned what he was going to say. Which, in hindsight, he really should have done, but it was too late to wonder about that now.

And besides, he was talking with Seokmin. The right words would find their way to him, especially if he was trying to confess to the love of his life.

“So… cookies,” Joshua started, and then held the basket out to Seokmin. He smiled a little. “They're your favourites.”

Seokmin gasped, momentarily seeming to forget his apprehension at Joshua’s visit as his eyes widened, taking the basket from him and peeking inside. “Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies?”

“Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies,” Joshua confirmed, resisting the urge to laugh at Seokmin's adorably awed expression. “And don’t worry. I made sure that they won’t give you food poisoning.

Seokmin, already stuffing a cookie in his mouth, gave a petulant huff. “Hyung, that was one time.”

Joshua laughed, unable to stop the delighted warmth bubbling up inside him as the natural cadence of their interactions came peeking through, Seokmin relaxing now that he had something sweet in his mouth. Seokmin looked up at him, a little surprised, before his face melted and brightened at the same time, eyes crinkling.

“So,” Joshua said, still smiling, “I was hoping that we could talk about yesterday.”

At that, Seokmin’s expression changed, and he slowly swallowed. He rubbed at his cheeks, attempting to brush away the crumbs and only kind-of succeeding.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Joshua rushed to carry on, before Seokmin’s face fell even further and Joshua’s heart fell along with it. “I’m sorry for how terribly our day at the amusement park ended.” He gestured to the basket. “The cookies were kind of an apology present to try and make up for it.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said softly. “No… It’s—It’s okay, hyung. It was kind of my fault, anyway,” he added, laughing a little stiltedly. “I was the one who, well, you know.”

Seokmin bit his lip then, teeth sinking into the softness of his bottom lip, and Joshua remembered with startling clarity how his own mouth had been over Seokmin’s less than twenty-four hours ago.

Joshua blinked rapidly, trying to dispel his thoughts so he could focus on the conversation at hand.

“It was just me being an idiot. You don’t need to apologise, Shua hyung,” Seokmin said, attempting to smile. “It was all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t, though,” Joshua said, taking a breath. Seokmin was still biting his lip, a nervous habit, and it was kind of cute and wholly distracting and it took everything in Joshua to keep his gaze on Seokmin’s warm, warm eyes rather than on his soft, soft lips. “Min-ah, it’s okay.”

He smiled, then, as gently and as reassuringly as he could, putting on his prettiest smile for Seokmin to try and comfort him.

Seokmin’s eyes widened and softened at the same time, before he looked away. “Please don’t look at me like that,” he said, all mumbly. There were still crumbs on his cheeks, and Joshua wanted to lean over and dust them away.

“Like what?” he asked, before giving in to the urge and brushing a finger over Seokmin’s cheeks, wiping at the crumbs. And then, using that same finger, he guided Seokmin’s chin towards him so they were facing each other again. “How am I looking at you?”

Seokmin huffed a little, and pouted. “Like… I dunno,” he said, cheeks turning red, “like you love me. Like—Like you didn’t actually mind the… the thing.”

Joshua’s gaze softened, and he lowered his hand to find Seokmin’s knee instead, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What if that’s true? What if I didn't mind the kiss?”

Seokmin was shaking his head before Joshua could even finish speaking. “Don’t say things like that, hyung,” he pleaded, almost a whine. “I’m sorry for kissing you yesterday, I really am. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“What? No,” Joshua said, a little mystified, wondering where on Earth Seokmin had gotten the idea that he didn’t want it to happen again. “No, Seokmin, I want it to happen again. I want you to kiss me again. And again, and again. Forever, essentially.”

“Wait.” Seokmin’s face scrunched up, confused, and goodness, Joshua was hit with the fact that he truly did adore him. “What?”

“I like you,” Joshua said, the three golden words leaving his lips and spinning through the air, and he could almost hear the magical ding as they landed like little chimes in Seokmin’s ears. “I like you, Seokmin. You and your smile and your kindness and your gentleness and the way you make me feel so happy, always. I like you so much, and especially your laugh—” Joshua took a breath, feeling the flush rising up his cheeks— “Oh, I love your laugh, Seokmin. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Seokmin’s eyes had steadily widened the longer Joshua had carried on, and there was that familiar, warm, beautiful shine in his irises once more, all full of hope. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Joshua laughed, smiling widely. “I like you. I love you. I adore you. All of those things. I think you’re wonderful, truly, and it’s like my heart belongs only to you.”

And then, his Seokmin-owned heart made a little whooshing sound as Seokmin’s eyes rounded, and Joshua couldn’t help but laugh. It was kind of incredible, how saying those words didn’t feel like taking a leap, like jumping and hoping that when he fell, someone would catch him.

Rather, it felt like coming home.

Seokmin’s frame melted, the biggest pout forming on his face as his whole body relaxed, seemingly just as comforted by Joshua’s confession as he was. His irises looked a little shiny as he blinked, hard.

“You love me,” Seokmin said, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe it, all tiny and adorable. And then he looked up at Joshua again, face crumpling into something between a pout and a giddy smile. “Oh my god, you love me.”

He said it in an almost awed way, words getting all blubbery-sentimental and he held out his arms, reaching for a hug that Joshua instantly gave him, smiling as Seokmin wrapped his arms around his neck to bring him even closer, burying his face into Joshua’s shoulder. Seokmin was always so warm and lovely but right now he seemed even more so, melting into Joshua’s arms, the thumping of his heartbeat matching the cadence of Joshua’s own.

He nuzzled even closer into Joshua's shoulder, making small, content noises into his shirt, and Joshua could feel something in his chest bursting into a spray of cerulean blue joy.

“I love you,” Joshua said again, just because, just to marvel at how light and perfect those three words felt. “I love you.”

Seokmin pulled away, arms still looped around Joshua’s neck, eyes shining brighter than the brightest, sunniest summer day. “I love you too,” he breathed, and then he laughed—that soft, beautiful laugh that Joshua loved far too much. “I love you. I’ve always really, really liked you, truly. So much. Ever since we met.”

Joshua chuckled a little, tilting his head. “Since we met? That’s a long time.”

“I know,” Seokmin said, almost whining, and it had Joshua laughing again. “You have no idea how hard it was to be loving you for so long. You’re so loveable, hyung. I can’t help but just—love you. Always.”

“I can’t help but love you too,” Joshua said back, and it was incredible how those words managed to make Seokmin’s smile light up even further. He leaned forward and nudged his nose affectionately against Seokmin’s, adoring the delighted giggle that it elicited from him. “You can ask Jeonghan, if you’d like. He’ll tell you how pathetically in love I’ve been with you for weeks.”

“Weeks? Hyung, I’ve been in love with you forever, I swear,” Seokmin said, and the earnest truthfulness of his words made Joshua’s heart swell, hands tightening around Seokmin’s waist.

“I think I’ve been in love with you before I even knew that’s what it was,” Joshua returned, just to try and one-up him, and laughed softly at the affectionate huff that Seokmin let out.

“Whatever you say,” Seokmin said, playfully rolling his eyes before beaming at Joshua again. His arms were still around Joshua’s neck, his weight still pressed comfortably in Joshua’s lap, and as he continued beaming at him, it was like Joshua's vision was filled with nothing but the gentlest, prettiest, most breathtaking golden light.

He could have stayed like that forever, actually, with Seokmin in his lap, his weight draped over him like a sure and solid promise, positively glowing with happiness despite the fact that he'd looked close to tears not even 24 hours ago.

It made him realise that Seokmin really did love him, had loved him forever, and thinking about it like that made him short circuit because oh—

Seokmin loved him.

And they were just smiling at each other, smiling and grinning and smiling like a pair of idiots and it was all because Seokmin loved Joshua just as much Joshua loved him.

As if he knew all of Joshua's thoughts, Seokmin smiled even wider, eyes crinkling happily, and Joshua knew that he really would do anything to see Seokmin smile like that forever. His lips were stretched wide, emanating light, and happiness truly did look so beautiful on him.

Joshua wanted to kiss him.

Oh. He hadn't kissed Seokmin yet. How had he not kissed Seokmin yet?

He needed to kiss him. Right now.

“Can I kiss you?” Joshua blurted out, completely out of the blue, and he would admit that it wasn't the best way to ask for a kiss, but Seokmin always made him do weird and awkward things.

Seokmin blinked in surprise, a blush rapidly rising up his face, but he nodded almost immediately.

“Yeah!” he said, the eagerness clear in his tone before he blushed even further, shoulders rolling inwards shyly. “I mean. Yes. Yes please.”

And then he beamed, his expression so open and loving and filled with wonderful golden light that Joshua couldn't help but smile too, leaning in closer, one hand releasing Seokmin's waist to slip upwards and cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the smooth softness of his cheekbone.

“Beautiful,” Joshua whispered, quiet, and could feel the blush that spread across Seokmin's face as he adjusted his hand, held him more firmly and finally connected their lips in a kiss.

And, oh, this kiss was even better than that first one they'd shared. The instant Joshua kissed him, Seokmin melted impossibly further into him, hands threading through his hair to bring him even closer, soft lips pressing against soft lips.

It was dizzyingly sweet. Seokmin tasted like strawberries and chocolate and sunlight, and when Joshua gently nipped at that plush bottom lip, his heart positively soared at the small noise that Seokmin let out, easily opening up so Joshua could kiss him as deeply and as fully as they both desired.

Seokmin twisted his hands in Joshua’s hair, kissing him even deeper, and it made him laugh into Seokmin’s mouth, his head feeling all happy and bubbly light. Seokmin laughed too, an automatic response to the sound of Joshua’s happiness, and they ended up smiling into each other’s mouths rather than actually kissing once they finally parted.

Joshua opened his eyes, watching as Seokmin still kept his eyes shut, drawing back with an adoring smile on his face like he wanted to treasure the moment.

It was so heart-achingly endearing that Joshua leaned in to press a light kiss to Seokmin’s mouth, smiling as Seokmin’s eyes fluttered open at last, a white-gold shine making his irises glow.

“Oh,” Seokmin said, soft, his kissed-pink lips spreading into a wide smile. He still had his hands in Joshua’s hair, still had his knees spread over Joshua’s lap, and he looked so beautiful. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Joshua echoed, amused, the hand on Seokmin’s cheek moving to brush away stray hairs as they fell into his face. “What’s up?”

Seokmin’s eyes just shone even brighter. “You love me,” he said, and he sounded so happy that Joshua laughed again, so in love that his heart felt like it was floating towards the heavens as Seokmin continued to look at him with all the awe and wonder in the world.

“Yes, Min-ah,” he said, devastatingly fond, and Seokmin scrunched his nose in a way that was just so endearing, very clearly delighted by the nickname. “I love you.”

Seokmin beamed adorably wide and launched himself back into Joshua’s arms again, clumsily pressing a kiss to Joshua's cheek before burying his face into his shoulder, and Joshua could feel him grinning with happiness.

Joshua had jumped towards Seokmin, taken that leap, but instead of falling, he’d floated right back up towards the sun instead.

In fact, it hadn’t even felt like falling, he mused, as Seokmin drew away from his shoulder, smiling shyly before leaning in and kissing Joshua softly once more.

He cupped Seokmin’s face, kissing him again and again until they were smiling so hard that they couldn’t kiss properly anymore, and yet they still tried, smiling lips meeting smiling lips over and over, the taste of sunlight sitting gently on Joshua’s tongue like that was where it belonged.

Perhaps, Joshua thought, it was because Seokmin had been beside him all along. All he had to do was walk right into Seokmin's arms, right into Seokmin who already had, and always would, adore him with the entirety of his heart.

And oh, how Joshua adored him too.

thanku for reading! pls rb w a comment if you liked this :)

taglist: @my-moarmy-heart @ofcoursewhynotmongyu @cottoncheol @i-dont-give-a-fok @leigh-darling @belladonna-is-alive @weird-bookworm @dokyluvie @isabellah29 @bangantokchy @ahuiahoe @yooboointhemood @animesoul2021 @official-eunwoo

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mountingpulisic · 1 year

Text

IT ISN'T THE SAME

“mason, what the hell are you doing here? shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?” you asked, dumbfounded by the chelsea midfielder on your doorstep.

when you heard the aggressive knocking at your door at one am you thought it was going to an intruder, not your idiot of an ex-boyfriend, mason mount.

not caring enough to answer your question, mason brushes past you. entering your home as if it was his own, stopping in the foyer.

“tell me it’s not true.” mason demanded, “tell me that declan is lying.”

you wouldn’t have any issue debunking whatever mason was asking about however you just needed to know first what the claim actually was.

“mason what are you talking about?”

“tell me you didn’t take the job, y/n.” you two had spoken at the same time, simultaneously interupting each other.

silence then fell between the two of you, and your lack of a response confirmed mason’s worries.

“why?”

“why? i don’t know maybe because it’s my dream job mason? the job i’ve busted my ass off for the past year? the promotion i rightfully earned?” you scoffed.

you had taken a job offering a few days ago. however, the corporate office was based in sydney, australia, exactly ten thousand five hundreds and fifty-three miles away for london, away from your family, away from your friends, away from him.

if the two of you were still together, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity the moment your boss called and told you about the position. you would’ve called mason first and spoke about how much the change was going to affect your relationship. listed the pro's and cons of the move, biggest one being mason. you would’ve decided then and there if your career was more important than your relationship with the footballer.

however, you two weren’t together. having broken up two weeks prior due to mason wanting to focus on the world cup. you strangely understood when he confined into you about it, knowing that a distraction wasn’t something he needed during a crucial moment in his career.

“please just don’t go, y/n. there are other jobs? jobs that are here london?” mason pleaded.

you looked at him quizzically to see if he was actually being serious right now.

“okay, mason. since your asking that of me, why don’t i ask you aren’t there any more chances at a world cup? it comes every four years, you being “distracted” for this one wouldn’t hurt, right?”

mason shook his head, “that isn’t the same, y/n.” he defended.

“why isn’t it the same, mase? because i’m asking you to give up something you love? is it only okay when you do it? not me?” you didn’t mean to raise your voice, but with the anger brewing inside you, it started to project higher naturally.

shaking his head frustrated, mason’s hands dragged down his face causing him to let out an angry exhale.

“you don’t even need to bloody work, y/n! isn’t it like every girls dream to be taken care of by their boyfriend?”

“no, mason it’s not and last time i checked, you weren’t my boyfriend.”

you couldn’t believe the nerve on this guy right now, asking you to give up your career when you were so willingly okay with the fact of him breaking up with you to focus more on his.

“we are on a break until the world cup ends, you agreed to that.”

“a break or a break up? what does it even matter mason?! you’re still asking me to put by career on the back burner while you're off living your childhood dream.”

“yes, but the thing about the world cup and my job darling, is that i’ll be back home, you are deciding to permanently change your postal code!” this time, it was mason who shouted.

you were positive steam was coming from his ears as he turned red from all the anger.

“if you are asking me to choose between my career and you mason, i’m choosing my career.”

if it was as if the words you just spoke, broke something inside of mason. eyes softening drastically, words he was beginning to speak had stopped in the middle of his throat.

mouth gaping open and closed, he stared at you in disbelief.

“don’t you dare look at me like that, because you know damn well you would’ve done chosen the same thing.”

with that, you opened your front door, that not even thirty minutes ago mason came knocking on.

“i think you should go now mason; you wouldn’t want to miss your flight."

part two

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 8 months

Text

It Was Always You | Levi Week Day 7 - Royal!AU

ngl i did not have confidence that i would actually finish/get to writing this but i did hooray

#: @leviweek2023

✧ word count ➼ ~2.3k ✧ notes ➼ royalty!au, soulmates!au, forbidden love, fluff, princess!reader, knight!levi, slightly suggestive at the end but sfw overall

The walls of the castle were damp and gloomy. This wasn't new. It was old. It looked fine during the day when sunlight could light up the corridors and there were people roaming the halls to simulate the illusion of livelihood, but it was currently nighttime, which meant the only things lighting up the hallway were the dim lanterns hanging off the walls and the torch that your knight held behind you.

You didn't ask to be a princess. You didn't want it. You remembered you had gotten whisked away by some bandits a few years ago and found yourself thanking them for it. You ended up experiencing the world and found yourself having a good time traveling with them, learning about the unique struggles that commoners had that you were never exposed to, being forced to live within the depressing walls of the castle.

You glanced back towards your knight and felt a small hint of pride upon seeing his unamused expression. You had ran off outside the palace walls again into town. There was a small celebration and you were curious, so you put on some commoner-like clothes and snuck out. You had only arrived in town for about an hour before Levi found you and dragged you back home.

You sighed as you stepped into your quarters, slightly smirking once you heard Levi also step inside and shut the door behind him so you could talk more freely.

"Quit running off like that," he scolded, scowling at you.

"Really expect me to just be cooped up in this gloomy castle?" you asked dryly, rolling your eyes.

"Where you're safe? Yes."

You looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"Safe from what?! My own shadow?!"

The scowl and look of disapproval on his face was unwavering.

"Just doing my job, Your Highness."

You grimaced at him addressing you by your title. You were close enough with your personal knight that he usually just called you by your name. The only time he ever referred to you as a formal princess was when you were being bratty.

Seeing that you had no intention to leave again and given how late into the night it was, Levi began turning, opening up the door to leave your quarters. His duty was to drag your reckless ass back into the castle, and he had done exactly that.

"Wait," you blurted out before he could fully open the door.

He paused, not turning back towards you, but not making any further motion to leave either.

"Stay?" you asked.

He looked at you over his shoulder.

"It's late."

"Please?" you whispered as you stepped towards him. "Just for a bit."

He clenched his jaw, knowing that it wasn't going to be "just for a bit", but he went ahead and shut the door again.

You've known Levi for years at this point. You remembered getting taken away by some mercenaries a few years ago after you had foolishly left the castle on your own. Unlike the bandit group you hung out with, this group wanted to hold you for ransom, having been hired by an enemy nation.

Levi was quick to rescue you. It was precisely the fact that he was forced to have that experience of having to chase after you because of a casual misstep of yours that made him so pissed about the fact that you still left the castle at the first available opportunity. He couldn't rest for more than a few minutes without having to be worried that something had happened to you.

When Levi first started guarding you, he was nothing but irritating. However, as much as he irked you, you couldn't stop talking to him. You found yourself always going to his side whenever you saw him around. You got to know him, and he got to know the parts of you that no one else did. You got close, and eventually chose him as your personal knight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him. You knew that deep down, but you didn't want to admit it to yourself. It was too painful.

You were engaged to someone else.

Being a princess meant you had responsibilities, whether you liked them or not. You were due to be married off in a few months to some royal from Marley in a desperate attempt to maintain the rapidly deteriorating peace between Marley and Paradis.

"I can't bear being trapped within these walls," you hissed through clenched teeth. "Day in and day out, it's about Marley this and Marley that."

You paused from your rambling and scowled. The mention of recent politics reminded you of your very undesirable engagement.

"You don't want to marry him, do you?" Levi asked quietly, now leaning with his back against the door, listening to you.

You scoffed in response, as if you were astonished that he even had to ask the question.

"Of course not! Why would I?" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. "I'd lose what little freedom I have and just be drowned in politics and be reminded every day that I was-"

You paused mid-sentence to take a breath, getting more and more upset about the topic.

"-that I was essentially sold off for political value. It's bullshit, and I hate thinking about it because-"

You suddenly cut yourself off, glancing towards the ground, unsure if you should continue. You were getting more and more frustrated and you knew your only source of relief was something you weren't allowed to have.

"Because what?" Levi asked, although some part of him deep down knew what you were going to say.

"...because I'm in love with someone else," you whispered.

Levi slightly parted his lips as his body ever so subtly tensed up. While he wasn't surprised by the news that your heart had been taken by someone other than your political fiancé, he still found the words harsh as they came out of your mouth. He wasn't sure why he cared, but he had been your confidant through the years, so he undoubtedly cared about you in some regard.

"Yeah?"

His body further tensed and he shuffled in place a bit to adjust for the discomfort that was rapidly arising within him as you slowly walked towards him.

He was curious as to who it was. He had a feeling that he knew.

Like you, he has felt that unnatural pull towards you. He always told himself it was inappropriate, but anyone observing could see that he was gentler with you than he was with anyone else. He would spend hours listening to you and talking with you, even when he didn't have to, just so you didn't feel as lonely.

His only duty was to make sure you didn't run off and get yourself into trouble outside the palace walls, but he always stayed and listened, even providing you with advice from time to time.

As a result, he knew what you were about to say. He's felt it too. It's like the universe was trying to push you together despite how wrong it was.

Levi was always there for you. He's picked you up when you were down, both literally and figuratively. He was likely the only person in the entire castle that saw you as a person and not just a princess. The idea of leaving this palace and never seeing him again while pretending to be happy with another man hurt you in ways you couldn't describe.

You slowly walked right up to him, never taking your eyes off him. Once you were right in front of him, your hand raised up to his cheek and you let out a small exhale upon the skin-to-skin contact. Upon looking directly into his eyes, you could see that there was some sort of mutual understanding there.

"It's you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "It's always been you."

You couldn't deny that some part of you felt like you were meant for each other. It didn't feel like a case of accidental love. It felt like the universe was giving you all of the signs that you were meant to love him, and that the only thing keeping you apart were the politics that were shoved onto you the minute that you were born.

He let out an unsteady breath as he processed your words, desperately trying to keep himself from reacting to finally feeling your touch.

"Tell me the truth, Levi," you muttered, looking directly into his eyes. "Can you honestly say that you haven't felt this too?"

He immediately averted his gaze upon your question, trying to resist the feelings that were rapidly arising within him.

"Tell me."

He had always shoved those feelings away. He'd banish them to some dark corner of his mind, and he was successful for years, but now he couldn't keep those feelings from being at the forefront of his mind.

When he finally looked into your eyes again, you could see the turmoil and conflict within them. You knew the answer, even without him saying a word. A selfish part of him wanted to answer and tell you that he was in love with you too and that he could never keep you off his mind. He wanted to tell you that he felt like hell every time you ran off, being plagued with worry over if you were okay.

He wanted to tell you the absolutely sting that he felt in his heart when he heard the news that you were engaged to someone else.

It was wrong. It was selfish. You were already betrothed to another man, but the thought of being with someone else made you feel nothing but despair. However, this current moment, looking at the man right in front of you gave you a sense of hope and peace that you had never felt before.

It was always Levi.

You brushed the hair out of his eyes, with the flickering of the torch on the walls reflecting off his gray eyes that were gently gazing into yours.

It was selfish.

It was selfish, but you pulled him forward, and leaned in to gently plant your lips on his.

Feeling him on you made your heart want to jump out through your throat. It made you feel excited, but also nervous.

Levi took a subtle, but sharp inhale upon feeling your lips on his. He hesitated, knowing how wrong this was, but also knowing how right it felt.

He hesitated, but it wasn't long before he returned the kiss, his hand falling onto your waist.

What started off as a gentle, loving kiss quickly deepened into a more passionate one, with your own lips parting as you fully pressed your body up against him. His palm on your waist sent shivers throughout your body, and the more that you kissed him, the more that you realized just how badly you needed him this entire time.

You gently bit at his bottom lip, but before your hands could begin roaming elsewhere, you felt him suddenly pull away, breaking off the kiss and turning his head to the side.

"Shit," he whispered, breathing heavily. "We can't be doing this."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning towards him as he pulled away.

"You're a princess," he said sternly. "You're engaged, and I'm-"

"You're what?" you asked with a scowl, not letting him finish what probably would have been a self-deprecating statement. "'Just' a knight? The only person I can trust in this whole damn palace that cares about me and not just my title? The annoyingly overbearing knight that saved me all those years ago?"

You stared at him intensely as you spoke, refusing to accept his comment of not being allowed to be with you, although you knew that was the reality surrounding you.

"...The man I'd much rather marry," you continued, your voice dropping down to a whisper. "The love of my life? My soulmate?"

Levi remained quiet as you spoke. He felt it. He's always felt it, even when he didn't know it.

You knew that if you were with Levi, it'd cause nothing but trouble. Sleeping with him could even cost you your claim to the throne if you're caught, but a small, selfish part of you wanted that. You longed to live a normal life, and living that normal life with Levi was your definition of a happy ending. You couldn't care any less about your political power. You'd throw it all away in an instant without second thought.

Even the thought of being on the run with Levi sounded better than being forced to live the life that everyone around you expected you to live.

You pressed your forehead against his as you whispered again.

"If you asked me to run away with you, I would do so in a heartbeat."

He scoffed, but didn't pull away.

"You do plenty of running away already."

"I mean it, Levi," you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes again. "I'd run away for good. I'd gladly leave this place and never come back, especially if it meant that I could be with you."

You pulled him into another kiss before he could respond. This time, he didn't hesitate in returning that kiss, as the both of you quickly got lost within each other's touch and presence.

You were meant to be, and your relationship would cause nothing but trouble, but you knew that it'd be all worth it in the end if it meant that you could live that normal, mundane life with Levi Ackerman: your knight and love of your life—your soulmate.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @kokosmiles @mrsmiagreer @nixie-writes-aot join my taglist!

#leviweek2023 #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

Text

Strictly Unprofessional - part 4 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 4/9

Read other parts here.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you’ve properly reconnected with Alexia.

No more walking on eggshells around her, Alexia is no longer the intimidating captain who could ruin your life with a single rumour. If anything, sharing this secret between you has bonded you. You speak more, hang out with her sometimes on away trips when you’re not working, and you’re reminded exactly why you clicked with her so easily all those years ago.

On a mild day in October, you’re outside taking pictures of the players during training when they stop for a water break and Alexia approaches you standing on the sidelines.

“Can I have a go?” she asks, gesturing to your camera.

You’re normally very protective over your equipment, especially in the hands of amateurs, but Alexia’s hopeful smile as she asks has you weak and passing across your camera almost immediately.

“Point and click, right?” Alexia asks, examining the camera, before aiming the lens at some of her teammates, who are passing a ball around as they wait for training to resume.

“You’re a natural.”

You have a second smaller camera on hand and you take it out of its bag, switch it on and point it at Alexia to capture some pictures of her with the camera. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing that she doesn’t notice you at first, not until she turns to seek your approval and spots you aiming the second camera at her.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” she protests. “I’m supposed to be behind the camera for once, not in front of it.”

“It’s my job to take pictures that the fans will love and they’re gonna love seeing a different side to their captain.”

Alexia lifts the camera again, but instead of pointing it towards her fellow players, she aims it at you and takes a photo.

“Fine, but I get to take pictures of you too.”

You really should have seen that coming.

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“Do you know how I remembered where I’d met you before?”

You quickly check that nobody else is close enough to hear your conversation. Though you’ve been getting closer, it’s very rare that either of you actually brings up what happened in Ibiza, and you’re still a little wary of what might happen if anybody else found out.

“How?” you ask.

“You made a comment at the dinner table in Tenerife about how you liked taking pictures of people living their lives and it reminded me of something I’d heard before,” Alexia explains. “You said something similar when we first met in Ibiza.”

“It’s my favourite part of the job,” you admit with a nod.

“Isn’t it time somebody caught you in your element? Just do your thing. Pretend I’m not here.”

If it was anybody else you’d protest. But you’ve got a soft spot for Alexia and her argument is a good one. A small part of you is excited to see how Alexia will capture you, even with her inexperience she has a connection and a chemistry with you that none of the other players have.

You turn back to the training field and point your camera at the players, ignoring the clicks of your other camera in Alexia’s hands as you get some shots of Lucy and Mapi passing a ball between each other without letting it touch the ground. After a couple of minutes, you’re so engrossed in your own work that you forget about Alexia completely until she comes to stand next to you.

“What do you think?” Alexia asks, tilting the screen of the camera in your direction so you can see the photos she’s taken.

You let your smaller camera hang around your neck and take the one that Alexia has been using so you can see her photos. You’ve never seen pictures of yourself with a camera before and it’s weird to see yourself working, but Alexia has caught a selection of photos of you, some of you with the camera held up as you take pictures, some of you frowning at the camera as you check out your own work.

“Do I really stick my tongue out like that?” you ask, when you reach a picture where you’ve got the camera held up and your tongue caught between your teeth as you try to find the perfect shot.

“Sometimes,” Alexia grins. “I think it’s cute though.”

“This is a really nice one,” you say, as you reach one photo in particular that stands out.

Alexia has photographed you from behind, at enough of an angle that you can still see the camera in your hands, but also the blurred figures of the players you’re taking a picture of in the background. Whether the composition is intentional or purely a beginner’s fluke, she’s captured you doing your job perfectly.

A whistle blows somewhere in the distance signaling that it’s time for the players to regroup and resume training but Alexia makes no move.

“So do you think I’ve got a career in photography after football?” Alexia teases you.

“With a bit of practice, maybe.”

“Well if you ever need an apprentice…”

“I’ll keep you in mind,” you promise her, reaching out to touch her arm affectionately.

Your hand makes contact with her skin just as Alexia’s eyes meet your gaze and it’s like time stands still. You feel warmth running through your veins, her skin electric beneath your fingertips and you’re taken right back to Ibiza, dancing and flirting and touching until you were leading her away to the privacy of your hotel room.

The moment is interrupted by a shout from Mapi, who jogs over to where the two of you stand, a grin on her face as she teases Alexia.

“Ale, just because you’re the captain, doesn’t mean you can skip training!”

“I’ve decided to swap football for photography,” Alexia announces to Mapi.

“No you haven’t,” counters Mapi. “As if you’d give up football. Is she any good?”

Mapi addresses this last part to you.

“I’ve seen worse,” you tease Alexia, as you put your spare camera away.

“I thought you said I was good!”

“I said you weren’t bad for a beginner.” You gesture at the pitch, where the rest of the team are gathering to continue training, and say, “Go. Mapi’s right, aren’t you supposed to be setting an example?”

“I don’t think I like you two ganging up on me,” Alexia says with a pout. “I expect this from her,” she points a finger at Mapi, “but not from you.”

Alexia jogs away, leaving you alone with Mapi, who grins at you instead of following her captain back to training.

“Is it just me or were you two flirting?” she asks.

Your cheeks burn at getting caught out and you pretend to be busy with your camera to avoid having to look at Mapi.

“I don’t know what you think you're seeing but that would be unprofessional.”

“Okay,” Mapi says, starting to walk backwards towards the rest of her teammates. “If you say so.”

———

A picture of Alexia with the camera finds its way onto the Barcelona social media channels later that day.

You post one of the photos she took of you on your personal Instagram, giving Alexia credit in the caption. She reposts it to her stories and you get an influx of notifications from her fans.

———

Champions League nights might be your favourite nights.

It shouldn’t make a difference - a football match is a football match and your job remains pretty much exactly the same whether the team is playing in front of two hundred fans on an artificial turf or tens of thousands in a huge stadium. But there’s a buzz around the entire team in the build up to each Champions League game that spreads from the pitch into the back offices too.

Tonight the team is playing at Camp Nou. You can tell the occasion means so much to all the players, even the ones who have played here several times before. The stadium is huge, stands stretching up almost infinitely towards the sky and even you, who hasn’t grown up dreaming of playing football in front of massive crowds, feel like you’ve stepped onto holy ground as you walk out of the tunnel with your camera hanging around your neck.

“This place is special, isn’t it?” Alexia says, draping an arm around your shoulders as you walk across the Camp Nou turf before the game. “Just wait until it’s full of fans.”

The players are checking out the pitch and you’re taking photos. Alexia seems to have realised that if she stays by your side while you’re working, you’re actually less likely to take pictures of her than her other teammates and you’re not going to complain about getting to spend more time in her company.

“My dad brought me here once when I was about twelve,” you tell Alexia. “He’s got three daughters and I was the most tomboyish so he took me. I wasn’t even that interested in football but we were up near the top and I remember being amazed at seeing so many people in one place all cheering for the same team.”

“My dad used to bring me here too,” Alexia says. “Maybe that’s why I love this place so much. Sometimes I wish he could have had the chance to see me play here.”

“I bet he’d be incredibly proud of you.”

Alexia’s hand tightens on your shoulder.

“I hope so.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #strictly unprofessional

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catt-leya · 1 year

Text

Collide || Rick Grimes 18+

About the fic: 'Collide' was the first smutty fic I ever wrote and I posted it one year ago. During the year a lot of people asked me for a second part, but since I believed I had better ones I never took the second part in consideration (it was my first and well...you can see I had no clue what I was doing while writing it hihi)

Soooo I thought it might be fun to rewrite 'Collide' one year later and see how it works (as a little celebration for my first year here)...and I fell in love and since I'm not writing a second part of it I made it WAY longer with actual smut...have fun 💗

Summary: Rick and you are on a run and you can't stand each other until you have to work together...

Trigger: dirty talk, choking (?), breeding (?), enemies to lovers (?) they hate each other

Annoyed, you stomp through the forest behind Rick.

You just can't stand it when he orders you around, and when he told you to go with him to look for an outpost, you thought you'd jump down his throat.

Your eyes bore into his back, "Enlighten me. Why would you want me to come with you? Couldn't you have brought someone else who would rather be with you? Daryl, Michonne, or just a rock for all I care."

You see exactly how his shoulders lift as he takes a deep breath, "I couldn't find a rock big enough to replace you."

Rick and you don't really get along and mostly try to avoid each other, but you can also understand why he didn't want to roam the woods alone. That's where you're a better backup than not having one at all.

Especially since, despite your differences, you wouldn't let anything happen to him and you can be sure that he would step into the breach for you too.

You've known each other since the time you spent in prison and yet you've never warmed up to each other. Your only common ground, besides your need to protect others, is probably your friendship with Daryl, who has long since given up on bringing you together in any way.

In the beginning, you were also annoyed that Rick took on the role of leader, until you had to admit that he's really good at it, and now you're just upset when he lets the all-knowing leader hang out in front of you.

Groaning, you continue to stomp after him, mentally slapping yourself as you notice your eyes sliding over his back, which is covered by a brown leather jacket.

You can't stand it when he wears that stupid jacket, and you can stand it even less when he brushes a few strands out of his face like he's doing now, causing the jacket to lift up with his shirt so that you can see a narrow strip of his skin.

You grit your teeth and hiss, "Couldn't we have taken a car?"

He looks over his shoulder at you and his blue eyes seem to gleam in the murky forest, "And then what? Should we have just run over some trees to get to the outpost?"

You roll your eyes, "Maybe you haven't heard, genius. But there's an invention called a ROAD."

Annoyed, he turns away and you hear him mutter softly, "I should have looked harder for a rock."

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

You take your eyes off him and look up into the treetops.

Summer is so slowly saying goodbye and the leaves are changing color. But, what makes the day so dull today is the fog that hangs incredibly low.

Thick swaths dance around the branches above you and you watch so fascinated that you don't see the root in front of your feet and stumble.

You squeak softly and try to find your balance, which only results in you taking three awkward steps and Rick turning to you at the girly sound you make.

Before you take your last step, you already know you wouldn't catch yourself again and reach out to Rick to steady yourself. Only you didn't think he'd stand as steady as a blade of grass in the wind, and you yank him to the ground with you.

After the dull thud, you can count yourself lucky that you landed on him and that he didn't push you to the ground with all his weight.

Flat on his back, Rick lies beneath you and closes his eyes, groaning, "Holy shit."

The impact has pushed all the air out of your lungs and you take a deep breath, "Sorry."

All that comes from him is a "Hmmm" and you grab his shoulders to push yourself up off of him.

Your whole body is pressed against his and you block out the warm feeling gathering between your legs as you straighten up as far as you can before your waistband gets caught in his belts.

You can't even really see what's slipping in where before you're moaning, "Holy shit. Couldn't one belt have been enough for you?"

Confused, he opens his eyes, "Huh?"

Testifying, you try to get your pants off him and mimic him, "'Huh?' That's your only contribution?"

You feel his body tense under you as he lifts his head slightly to see what's even going on and then sighs, "Woman, now don't act like this shit is my fault. How about next time you don't trip, or at least have the good grace not to knock me over too?"

Rick's arrogance provokes you to nag, "And how about next time you catch me and not fall over like a wet bag of rice?"

You can see him getting angrier, and perversely, it really turns you on.

His eyes are much darker than before and you seriously have the urge to rub up against him. Disgusted with yourself, you shake your head and Rick grits his teeth as he hisses, "Get your ass up so I can get at it, if you can't do it yourself."

You're reluctant to do what he asks, but if you really want to get away from him, you have no choice, and you straighten up on your knees to the left and right of his thighs as much as you can so that he can reach between you with his hand.

The fact that his hand is so close to the spot between your legs in the process that under normal circumstances you would tick his hand off, you try to ignore and instead release one hand from his shoulder to press your loose shirt against your body.

In order for him to see what he's doing, he has to look down at you, and you don't feel the urge to show him your bare tits.

Of course, he notices your attempt to keep your dignity and murmurs softly, "Relax. There's nothing to see anyway."

If you still had a free hand, you'd love to slap him, but with your shirt problem and the fact that his shoulder is your only support at the moment, you have to settle for a venomous stare.

He doesn't even notice and instead tugs hard on your pants so that your crotch presses firmly against his and he growls, "I outlast hordes of walkers and then scrape off because you can't look where you're going."

You dig your fingers into his shoulder "Oh my god, you're so dramatic. We're not going to die just because our pants got caught," and then grumble, "Hold my shirt. I have small hands, maybe I can get it to work."

Unsatisfied, he's now the one pressing the shirt against your body and you use your hand to get at your problem.

His belt buckle sits oddly on one loop of your pants and you try to pull it out of his belt, "I swear that was the last time I went out alone with you, Rick."

His knuckles graze your collarbone and you wince.

Exasperated, you growl, "I'll just take my pants off in a minute."

He mutters a "God forbid," and you jerk your head up to kill him with your gaze, "Rick, I swear to you, if the next thing that comes out of your mouth isn't helpful, I'm going to lose it."

He rolls his eyes, "You talk so incredibly much. Can't you just shut up for a minute so I can spin us so I'm on top?"

His choice of words brings a blush to your face and you hiss, "I talk when I want to and I know you'd love to shut me up, but hardly anything smart comes from you either."

His gaze slides down your body and he mumbles into his beard, "I know what I could stuff your mouth with to keep you quiet and you'd probably thank me for it."

Frozen, you pause in mid-motion and look at him.

You're not sure if you imagined his words, or maybe your imagination is running away with you. At least you now see in your mind's eye what he would press into your mouth, and that brings your heart out of rhythm for a moment.

A few seconds pass before he looks you in the face again and you find your voice again, whispering harshly, "I'm certainly not going to lie on my back like a helpless bug while you push me to the floor."

Mischievousness flashes in his eyes and you now truly believe he is actually flirting with you, "Afraid of having me on top of you?"

He releases his hand from your shirt and rests it on your neck instead. You don't care at the moment that your neckline is now gaping open again, and as his thumb runs over your pulse, you're sure he can feel how fast your heart is beating.

You're really afraid to have him on top of you.

Afraid of being pressed to the ground by his body in such a way that your movements are even more restricted than they already are, because momantaneously you still have at least the slightest measure of superiority over him. But as soon as he has you under him, that little difference is gone.

It's only now, as you let your eyes slide over his face, that you notice how close your lips actually are, and you have the brief reflex to just lean down and cover his pretty mouth with yours. You stare at his lips as he grins boyishly and asks, "So, don't you want to know what it would feel like?"

How it would feel to have him inside you is the only thought your mind can manage, and you actually whimper out.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of weakness, Rick swiftly spins you around so that he's between your legs, his pelvis pressing firmly against you.

You draw in a sharp breath as you feel how hard his cock is and gasp softly, "Rick."

Blinking, he looks down at you and you feel his chest press against your soft tits with each breath he takes.

Briefly, like you, he seems to have forgotten what got you into this situation before he shakes his head and positions himself on his elbow so he can lift his hip and reach between you again, "I can't believe how tight this shit is."

Fluttering, your eyes fall shut and you think about how wet you already are for him. Oh my god, you can't stand him, but you also can't pretend you're not going to let him fuck you right here and now.

In a hushed voice, you ask him, "Rick? Is it working? Otherwise, just take my pants off."

You realize that he's also just a man who probably hasn't slept with a woman in a long time (not that you're paying attention) and it probably doesn't have much to do with you personally that his cock is twitching in his pants and you can feel it between your legs.

"Please don't talk about taking your pants off," he says in a husky voice and at the word 'please' you open your eyes again.

He's given up on undoing his belt and instead props himself up on both elbows above you, "I don't plan on dying with a hard-on in my pants."

You don't know what to do with your hands, so without giving it much thought, you grope his upper arms, "And again, you're being so dramatic. We're not particularly far from Alexandria and we've secured the area, so don't be a pussy and just take my fucking pants off."

He flinches and squints his eyes.

So you try to reach between you yourself to unzip your pants, he presses harder against you, so you can't reach your pants with your hand and instead have to stifle a moan yourself as he presses hard against you again.

"In case you haven't figured it out yet: I'm overly horny and you certainly can't take your pants off without me cumming in my own. So hands off," he growls with arousal.

His direct words make you whimper softly and you press closer to him.

The annoyed mood turns to something else entirely and you breathe softly, "I certainly don't even need my hands for that. I can promise you that."

You know he doesn't want to react to you like that, but he groans anyway as you start rubbing up against him.

The problem with his belt and your pant loop is forgotten, and you pull him down to you by the back of his neck.

You don't even have to ask him to, he's already putting his lips on your pounding pulse and kissing the heated skin.

You gyrate your hips and grip his hair tightly as you hear him moan against your neck.

Your breathing is erratic and you wrap your legs around his narrow waist to pull him even closer to you.

What you wouldn't give to make the distracting fabric of your jeans disappear and let him slide into you.

The way he moves over you turns you to putty in his arms and you whimper, "More."

You don't care how pathetic you sound or what he would say afterward. In the here and now, you want him to take you.

Hard.

You hear his muffled moan against your neck, "Fuck, I thought you hated me."

Tense, you press your lips together, and when you don't answer him, he lifts his head and pushes your chin up with one hand so far you have no choice but to look at him.

"I don't hate you. I just don't like you very much," you say, but you can't even believe yourself.

He leans forward, his lips brushing yours ever so slightly, "Oh, is that so? So if you don't like people, you dry hump them?"

You can't bring yourself to say anything but his name and he breathes, "Talk to me."

Again he pushes his cock to just the right spot and your insides tighten in excitement, "Please, Rick."

You're at the point where you're begging him to make you cum, and you let your hands slide down his back to pull his jacket and shirt up enough for your hands to rest on his bare back.

His skin feels soft under your fingertips and you sigh softly against his lips, still millimeters from yours.

You don't care about the cool floor and all you want is Rick.

"I love it when you make those soft sounds," it sounds like he's reluctant to admit it, but you reward him for his honesty by purring, "Make me do them again."

Growling, he presses his lips to yours, pushing himself a little further over you, which brings a soft click and without looking, you know your pants have come off his belt.

Rick hears it, too, and breaks away from your lips in surprise to sit up and realize that you're no longer stuck to each other.

He himself is staring at his belt and you can't stop your eyes as they move a few inches lower and you stare at the bulge that was pressed against your pussy just a few seconds ago.

The silence is oppressive and where normally you would barely hold back and throw things at each other, now you are silent.

You'd like to say you're no longer attracted to him now that he's not so close, but you can't stop thinking about how warm his skin felt under your palms and how his kiss tasted.

He is still kneeling motionless between your legs and you are lying flat on your back. Your nipples are clearly visible through the thin fabric of your shirt, and you'd love to squeeze your legs together to ease the throbbing between them, but instead you say softly, "Rick."

He releases his gaze from his belt and looks at you as if he's seeing you for the first time in his life.

You know full well you could make a complete ass of yourself and he'd rub it in your face for years, but you meekly mumble, "Take off your jacket and shirt, please."

Over the years, you've learned that Rick is extremely hard to read and you never know if he's going to give you a hug or tick you off. He's always in control of his facial features.

Except now.

His mouth hangs open and he looks at you as if you had asked him to stick a stick up his ass and start a fire with it.

You take a deep breath and push yourself up with your hands so that you can sit in front of him and grab his jacket yourself.

He doesn't move an inch.

You run your hands over the soft fabric on his collar and then slide a little lower to gather the fabric in your small hands and pull the jacket off his broad shoulders. As you do so, you bend even further towards him and his eyes lock onto your lips.

You set the jacket down beside you on the dry leaves and tug at the hem of his shirt, "Don't make me beg you."

Slowly he looks you in the eye again and your breath catches as you realize how close you are to his face again. You could count every single gray hair in his beard and see the shades of blue in his eyes.

The thought "Shit, he's handsome" flits through your mind and you wonder where you mustered the self-control to more or less ignore how incredibly attractive he is.

For a while, you just stare into each other's eyes until Rick lifts his hands and reaches down his neck to pull his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen Rick topless, but it's the first time you've wanted to see him like this, and the first time you've wanted to touch him.

His stomach rises with each breath, and you hate yourself for how this normal action makes you moan softly.

When he hears it, he bites his lower lip and puts his shirt down on his jacket.

Slowly, he leans toward you, making you back away further until you're flat on your back again and he's towering over you.

"Does this change anything between us?" his voice is rough and soaked with arousal, which only makes your voice seem higher, "No."

Like a predator about to pounce on its prey, he looks at you, "You're still going to hate me after I fuck you?"

You raise your hand and trace his collarbone with your finger, "Exactly." Again, you hear the lie in that one little word.

Even Rick laughs, shaking his head, and then leans down so his lips graze yours again, "I don't believe a word you say."

Instead of defending yourself or repeating yourself, you bridge the small distance that separates you and kiss him.

You think you hear a soft "fuck" from him, but you may have imagined it because you're far too busy sliding your hands over his torso.

The hair on his chest is soft under your palms, and the further down you slide, the more his abs twitch under your touch.

Awkwardly, you try to push your chin higher so Rick doesn't have to lean so far down toward you to make up for the size difference, and whimper into the kiss as he puts a hand to your neck and pushes your head higher that way himself.

The way his hips rest heavily on you and his tongue is deep in your mouth makes you feel complete.

You run your fingers over the fuzz of hair leading from his navel to his belt and he pushes his hips further towards you, inviting you to continue.

The cool metal of his belt buckle in your hands makes you flinch briefly and he releases his lips from yours to kiss your jaw and then your neck.

Panting, you lay your head to the side to give him more room and as he brushes the spot behind your ear you didn't even know existed.

Rick knows exactly what to do to get soft sounds of arousal to pass your lips and as he gently bites your neck, your fingers tighten around his belt buckle.

"Unbuckle it," he murmurs in your ear and your whole body trembles.

Breathing heavily, you open first his holster and then the regular belt he wears.

He may seem like he's in complete control, but the way he thrusts his hips at you and his cock twitches as you run your fingertips over his denim says something else entirely.

He wants you at least as much as you want him.

Before you can tamper with his jeans, though, he slides his own hand between you and pulls your neckline down from your shirt so far that your tits puffs out and he pushes himself down enough to take your nipple in his mouth.

At the very first contact of his tongue on your tip, you can no longer suppress a soft cry.

"That's the way I've always imagined it," his voice drips with satisfaction and pride and you're far too busy feeling his body on yours to give him a piece of your mind.

Slowly he licks over your nipple and then says again, "Just like that. The way you squirm under me and can't think of anything but finally having my cock in your tight pussy and I'm sure you're tight. So fucking tight that I'm going to fill every inch of you and stretch you so far that you're going to beg me to stop."

Lasciviously he looks at you through his thick lashes and you moan softly, "Is that a promise?"

He pauses in his position for a moment before he pulls away from you and you hold out your arms to him like a whining toddler. You panic, thinking he wants to leave you lying there, "Please don't. Don't leave."

Surprised, Rick looks at you as if he can't believe you're really talking to him in such a meek and needy way.

A slight breeze blows over you and your nipples become even harder from the cool air and the wetness left from Rick's tongue.

Hectically you try to reach for him again, "Please don't, Rick."

You don't care at that moment how pathetic you sound, and in fact you're rewarded by him reaching for your hands, which you hold out to him, and leaning in to breathe a kiss on the back of each of your hands, "Easy."

He rests your hands on your stomach and casually strokes your hard nipples, "I'll stay with you. I just want to get your pants off, okay?"

Shame breaks over you and you squint your eyes, "Of course. Sorry."

You're irritated by the way you're suddenly acting toward him, but strangest of all is how gentle and sweet Rick is to you.

It's not that you didn't think he could do it, because you know perfectly well how he acts toward his young daughter and can be incredibly soft to others, too, like Maggie or Daryl.

It's just that you wouldn't have expected him to be able to show that side of himself in front of you, too.

"Don't be embarrassed," his words make you look at him again, "What?"

Grinning, he undoes the button of your pants, "Don't be embarrassed that you want me. In fact, I think it's pretty damn hot that you don't even want to let me out of your reach."

He unzips, "And I bet-" he slides his hand down your pants, "That you're more than willing and wet for me."

His fingers meet your swollen and as he predicted, already wet pussy and you gasp, "Rick…please…oh fuck…"

He gathers up some of your arousal and circles your clit, "What are you begging me for?"

You try to spread your legs wider so you can get more of him, but your pants won't allow it and you whimper, "For more. Please."

Instead of granting your wish, he withdraws his hand again and your brain goes blank, making you speak more freely than ever, "Oh God, I'll do anything you want, but don't stop."

A cocky grin steals onto his face, "If I'd known I'd get you this submissive, I'd have fingered you back when you threatened to kick me in the balls if I hadn't let you have the better room."

Before you can say anything back, he finally removes your shoes and pants before his eyes fall on your red lace panties, "Like you knew red was my favorite color."

The panties reveal more than they cover, and the fact that you're sliding your butt back and forth to signal Rick to finally pull the last of the offending fabric off your ass makes him groan in agony, "When I fuck you, you're mine, got it?"

Your eyes lock on his boner, "What? I don't belong to anyone."

Rick's calloused hands run over your thighs to your hipbones and then he reaches for the fabric, "Once my cock is inside you, you are. Then you're mine."

Speechless, you stare at him and he tugs lightly at the fabric, "You won't let anyone else touch you and you'll spread your legs for me when I want you to."

Silently you laugh out, "I'm certainly not going to let you fuck me when and where you want. You can forget it."

Agonizingly slow, he removes your panties and the cool air hits your swollen pussy, "Wanna bet, do you?"

In fact, it's that very arrogance that turns you on so incredibly that you'd like to punch yourself.

Defiantly a poisonous answer lies on your lips, there he reaches for his own pants and when he takes them off and also pulls his blue boxers over his ass, all words stick in your throat.

Big and hard, his cock is waiting to finally penetrate you and your heart is faster than your head, "Okay."

He takes himself in hand and runs his fist over the shaft several times, "Okay what?"

You can't take your eyes off him and you notice your pussy tighten around nothing, "Fuck me so I can't walk and I'm yours."

His cock twitches at your words and you reach your arms out to him again.

This time you don't have to ask him to lie on top of you, and he positions himself between your legs so that the tip of his cock strokes your pussy.

You squirm under him to take him inside you, crying softly, "I want you so much."

Softly he snorts against your neck, "Not as much as I want you and have for so long."

Fluttering, your eyes fall closed, "Rick…"

Again he kisses the spot behind your ear and your body rears up as he pushes himself inside you a few inches.

You haven't slept with a man in a while and after seeing how big Rick is, you find it hard to believe that he actually manages to fuck you deeper without tearing your pussy apart.

Unable to hold on to anything else, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades and enjoy the low growl that comes from his throat, "You're made for me."

With your left hand you grab his hair and pull so hard that he takes his mouth off your neck and kisses you on the lips instead.

You feel him inside your pussy, taste him in your mouth, and can smell him.

Everything around you is Rick and you forget why you don't actually like him.

Yoy forget that you didn't actually want to be out with him alone and instead whisper, "Yeah, made for you."

You wrap your thighs around his bare hips and pull him even tighter against you.

The pressure from your legs makes him sag a little lower, hitting just the right spot inside you at the angle that makes you tense violently around him and pull him even deeper inside you, "Rick…there…right there…"

Gasping, he presses his forehead against yours and pulls back, only to thrust into you again and you can't bring anything but a wistful whimper to your lips.

You dig your heels into his ass and try to press him as close as you can.

With one hand, he grabs your tit and squeezes hard enough to knock you out of your mind and your dignity as you whimper, "Harder."

His blue eyes are misty and he has to blink several times before he looks at you properly, "Fuck, you're taking me in so well. Clinging to my cock like the world depends on me cumming inside you."

His cock twitches and you stroke through his sweaty hair, "You're so deep inside me."

Suddenly something flashes in his eyes and he pauses.

"I want to show you something," at his words you shake your head, "Not now, please go on. Please."

But he pulls back on you and he has more strength than you, so you can't do anything about it either and just whine, "Rick, come back here. You can't do this to me. You're not that cruel."

Raucously, he laughs up and leans in to your ear, "Easy, honey. Your pussy is mine anyway and I'm certainly not going to waste how good you feel around my cock. I just want you to see something."

Confused and unsatisfied, you pull his hair to get him to look at you, and when your eyes meet, he says softly, "You only ever feel me up to the hilt inside you, but have you seen it?"

He must see that you don't get what he's getting at and shifts his weight so that his cock is resting heavily on your bare belly.

Your own wetness sticks to his cock and is now slowly running down onto your belly to mix with your own sweat.

You can't take your eyes off him as his precum also drips onto your belly and you ask hoarsely, "Rick?"

"Now you see how deep I really am inside you," never have you heard his voice so deep and your whole body goes weak.

Never before have you visually seen how deep you can have a cock inside you and now it's Rick's lying on top of you, swollen to show what you're letting him do to you.

What he's taking from you and what he can fill you with.

You can't get a word past your lips and instead pull him down to you to kiss him hard on the lips.

You notice how your pussy clenches begging and you don't even have to ask him to finally fuck you again, because he rams himself into you again and you moan in sync.

Hoarsely you gasp his name and he thrusts even harder into you, "Do you actually know how beautiful you are when you moan my name. Just my name."

Towards the end his voice breaks and to stop him from speaking further you pull him to you again and murmur against his lips, "I want to moan just your name too." Before you kiss him hard and swallow his "Baby cum for me" and start pulsing breathlessly.

Firmly you pull at the curls in his neck and he mumbles "Fuck" before his thrusts become messy and uncontrolled.

Weakly you lie under him while he squints his eyes and takes what he needs.

At the same time you can't take your eyes off his beautiful face.

He's so tense that you place your shaky hands on his cheeks and sigh, "That's right, Rick. Take what's yours."

Still tightening around him every now and then, he buries his face in the hollow where your neck joins your shoulder.

The gesture is so vulnerable and intimate that you begin to stroke the back of his head and praise him softly.

You quickly realize that he's totally into it when you tell him how well he takes you and how much you want him.

With one last thrust, his body stiffens and he fucks you through his climax before he stays heavily on top of you, unable to continue to lean up over you.

You won't be able to leave him on top of you for long as he slowly takes your breath away and as you start to squirm a bit under him, he leans up a bit heavily to take his weight off of you, "Do you still hate me?"

Surprised by the question, you flinch, "What?"

His eyes slide over your face and can't believe you actually burst out laughing and poke him in the cheek, "I didn't mean it in a primitive way when I promised you I wouldn't let anyone else touch me."

Still looking down at you skeptically, you can't help but think it's extremely cute, "Rick, I've never hated you...I didn't meant it. Sometimes I could kick you in the balls and sometimes you just annoy me, but I don't hate you."

So slowly his eyes clear and you smile as wide as you can at him as you tease a little, "But if it makes you feel better, I'm happy to lie and say I hate you."

Uncertainly, he bites his lower lip and seems to search your face for something.

Briefly, you think he's decided against saying anything, when he says quietly, without taking his eyes off you, "It's a shame, because I love you."

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @igotbasicdrag @moonshine147

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)

#rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #andrew lincoln #2023

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fourthwingfan · 1 month

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Madness - Chapter 10

Hello Dear Readers! Here comes the new chapter, it's 6239 words, so be prepared.

What do you think about a game? It's almost Threshing. If you can guess (correctly or close to that) what kind of dragon and/or what kind of signet Aelin will have, then I'll answer one question in private about the story. Even if it'll be a spoiler. Good luck!

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

I look up, and up, and up, and I can only blink.

“Well, that’s…” Ethan swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.

“Amazing.” Liam grins.

Ethan and I turn, both staring at him like he must have hit his head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Ethan asks.

„I mean look at that. I heard a lot of stories about this, but it’s so much more complex. It will be a real challenge.” Liam grins, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun as he rubs his hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee.

“Challenge? Yeah, sure we can go with that.” I laugh at him. “At the gym in the challenges you don’t have a real opponent, it was way too easy for you.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ethan stares at me. “You’ve never lost either.”

“Well…yeah” I scratch my head.

„Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” another squadmate - whose name I don’t remember - says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” An obnoxious girl says, maybe her name is Vila? At some point I should start memorizing their names. But they are fucking annoying.

I shoot her a glare and then shake it off.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the first-year snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

My eyebrows lift. They’re really annoying.

“We have such a lovely and cohesive squad.” I murmur to Liam. “What is his name anyway?”

“Do you really not know their names?” He laughs at me. “We’ve been squadmates for a while.”

“I know your name, Ethan’s and Vila’s too. Oh and there’s Theo and Zanaya.” I list.

“That’s all?” He grins “You know my name because we’re friends. Ethan is my friend and he hangs out with us during classes, so that doesn’t count.” He counts the names on his fingers. “And the only reason you know Vila’s name is because she annoys you. Theo and Zanaya don’t count either. They’re the squadleader and his executive.”

“Fine. I admit it. I don’t know their names. “I give in. “They die like flies. We’re the smallest squad.”

“Then why do you think it’s called the gauntlet?” I hear shouting behind me.

God. They’re still arguing.

„It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Vila and the man next to her. “Are you two done arguing? Because all six of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”

There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.

“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Liam, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you’re the best of the squad. Then Aelin, Jake, Ethan, Rio and Vila.” He finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the smallest squad so far. You need to work hard to remain intact. If you’ll lose two or three more cadets then you’ll be dissolved and you’ll be assigned to another squad. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff. No doubt that someone has a watch.

We wait silently, thinking about what he said. I don’t want to be assigned to another squad. I like it that Liam is my squadmate, and I’m starting to like Ethan too. There’s no guarantee all three of us will be in the same squad.

„Here we go!” Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you’ll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

„Wouldn’t it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?” Ethan asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Emetterio replies. “The timing is part of the challenge. And some words of wisdom, before you start.”

“There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Vila points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts there? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Rio whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock.

„What if we can’t make it up?” Vila asks from my right, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Liam,” Professor Emetterio orders, and Liam moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

Liam is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him two rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs, Liam’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” I yell to encourage him.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Liam sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Ethan and I cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect technique!” Professor Emetterio calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

„Aelin, begin!” Emetterio orders.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part.

I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead.

I start to hum to calm myself. The music always helps me.

I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense but it’s bearable. Not bad.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one.

I repeat the motion, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

I still hum as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path and I almost hit the wall with my head.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.

There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next. I then launch myself towards the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp.

I throw myself to the next and move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion.

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into face-first of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Aelin!” Liam shouts from the top.

My other hand is still holding the rail. I can do it.

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

I immediately start the hand over hand to get me to the next one, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

I reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate. I need to do it with one go. If I stop they will probably roll me off.

I bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

I hear someone cry out and my head snaps toward the voice, just in time to see Jake wobble and slip on the rails. The air freezes.

“Jake!” I hear Vila screaming.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling his wide black eyes as he falls. Halfway down the cliff.

Shit.

“Aelin! Come on, you’re almost up here.” Liam shouts at the top.

I look at him and nod. Yes, I can do it.

I face a giant chimney formation rising high above me at a twenty-degree angle and pause.

God, it’s really high. But if Liam could do it, then so do I.

I sprint toward the leaning chimney and flings myself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with my body.

Okay, now I need to climb.

I start hopping up the conduit slowly, maybe a little too slowly, until I reach the end and drop down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

Fuck. It seems the most difficult obstacle of all of them.

But I can’t give up now. It’s the last one. I can do it, I just need to be fast.

I sprint toward the ramp, using my speed and momentum to carry me almost all the way up the ramp.

Just before I start to fall, I reach up and I can grab onto the lip of the ramp with one arm.

My god. I did it.

I reach up with my other arm and haul myself over the edge.

As soon as I stand up, Liam is there and sweeps me into his arms.

“You were great Aelin!” He laughs. “You did it!”

I still can’t believe that it’s over. I hug him back and start laughing too.

“Yeah. It seems I did it.”

“How’s your face?” He pulls back and look at the side of my face. “You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s not that bad actually. I mean, later it’ll hurt probably.”

“Then we will get some ointment later.”

I nod and then we watch the others.

Ethan has made up his way to us. He was the slowest of us who made it to the top, but it doesn’t matter to me. He did it, and we survived.

Rio made it too. He did a great job and since then he bahaves as if he was already chosen by a dragon. And naturally Vila argues with him about this too.

Vila had to use the ropes at the shaking pillars. She almost fell down like Jack.

Shit. We lost Jack.

There are only 5 of us first-years left.

***

The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

“Calvin Atwater,” Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.

First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.

There’s nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day…except it’s not. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues.

Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?

„Aurelie Donans.”

Shit. She was Vi’s squadmate. She told me what happened yesterday. Watching one of your friends falls to death? It’s cruel.

I look at Violet and see that she ripped open one of the scabs along her cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Dain asks Violet the next night - as I approach them - two worried lines between his brows as he clasps Violet’s shoulders.

“If her parents aren’t coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I’m the last person she saw,” She explains, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie’s pack.

Every Basgiath parent has the same option when their cadet is killed. They can retrieve the body and personal effects for burial or burning or the school will put their body under a stone and burn their effects themselves. Aurelie’s parents have chosen door number two.

“And you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks, palming her neck.

She shakes her head. “I know where the burn pit is.”

“Besides I will be there for her.” I say and stand next to Violet. “Now hands off. We have more important things to do, than listening to you.”

“Cadet Melgren, do I need to remind you that I’m a squadleader? Show some respect.” He growls at me.

“Respect must be earned. And I think it sends a completely different message that you coddle Violet, squadleader.” I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s okay, Dain. We should go.” Violet says then we start to climb the stairs of the academic tower’s turret past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

„I never got the chance to ask you if you made it all the way up,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I’m too short to span the distance, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. I’ll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet on Presentation day.”

“I help you. We will figure something out, together. You’re not alone, Vi.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

The burn pit is nothing more than an extra-wide iron barrel, whose only purpose is to incinerate, and the flames burn bright against the night sky as we stumble out onto the roof.

There’s no one else up here as Violet slips the bag from her shoulder.

I stop a little further away from the pit. She wanted to do it alone, and I will respect her wish.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear her whisper, as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

The flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the fire, just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

Instead of walking back down the stairs, I make my way to the edge of the turret where Violet stares at the sky.

It’s a cloudy night, but I can make out the shadows of three dragons as they approach from the west and even see the ridge where the Gauntlet lays, waiting to claim its next victim.

It won’t be me.

I stand here, patiently waiting for Violet to be ready to go back, letting minutes tick by before the bells sound for curfew. We climb back down the stairs without a word.

We walk through the courtyard, empty but for a couple who can’t decide if they’d rather kiss or walk near the dais.

“I don’t want go back yet.” Vi whispers while avoiding my eyes.

“Then we won’t. Come, if I remember correctly there’s an alcove over there.” I smile at her softly. Understanding the pain, that makes her want to hide.

We’re heading for the alcove where Dain and Vi first sat after Parapet.

It’s almost been two months, and we’re still here. Still waking every morning to the sunrise. Doesn’t that mean something?

I wonder as we sit in silence, watching the stars on the sky.

The door that leads to the tunnel we took to cross the ridgeline to the Gauntlet this morning opens along the courtyard wall, just left of the academic building, and my brow furrows. Who would be returning this late?

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction.

Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by us, their boots crunching on the gravel.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses.

My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid.

Shit.

He knows we’re here.

Instead of the usual fear that spikes in his presence, only anger rises in my chest. If he wants to kill me, then fine. I’m over waiting for it to happen. Over walking through the halls in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, immediately looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the couple who definitely decided making out is more important than getting into the dorms by curfew.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” Xaden says.

„You sure?” Bodhi’s forehead puckers, and his gaze sweeps over the courtyard.

“Go,” Xaden orders, standing completely still until the other two walk into the barracks, turning left toward the stairwell that will take them to the second- and third-year floors. Only when they’re gone does he turn and face the exact spot where we’re sitting.

“I know you know we’re here.” Violet says and moves toward him. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

I try to suppress my laughter as I walk next to Violet, standing between her and Xaden.

“No questions about where I’ve been?” He folds his arms across his chest and studies us in the moonlight. His scar looks even more menacing in this light, but I can’t seem to find the energy to be scared.

“I honestly don’t care.” Vi shrugs and makes her way toward the dorms without another word.

“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have to go. It’s curfew after all.” I say.

“Are you going to tell someone that we were out?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care what you do.” I cross my arms. “It’s probably the best if I don’t know anyway.” I mutter silently.

He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t care, do you?”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing out after curfew, Sunshine?”

“Counting the stars, what else?” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me.

“The same.”

Sarcastic ass.

“Look, are you planning to kill us or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.” I ask.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, like I’ve just inquired about his dinner preferences, but his gaze narrows on my cheek. There’s still a bruise from yesterday’s Gauntlet practice.

“Well, could you?” I mutter. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

“Am I affecting your schedule, Sunshine?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

“I just need to know what my chances are that Violet and I are going to make it through alive.” My hands curl into fists.

The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm.

His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Chances at what?” he asks, tugging me just close enough that my shoulder brushes his biceps.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand. He’s a damned wingleader, which means he’s excelled at everything in the quadrant, even somehow managing to get past his own last name.

“Chances at what?” he repeats. “Do not make me ask three times.” His ominous tone is at odds with his gentle grasp, and shit, does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“At living through all of this! I have to figure it out how Violet can make it up the damned Gauntlet. And there’s my own problems I have to deal with, and here you are, annoying me.” I half-heartedly tug at my wrist, but he doesn’t let go.

“I see.” He’s so infuriatingly calm, and I can’t even get a grip on one of my emotions.

„No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because she’ll fall to her death and you can kill me anytime, we saw that on the mat the previous time.”

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Sunshine. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You know the problem with this place?” I tug my arm back again, but he holds fast. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?” My eyes narrow on him.

„I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

I answer before I can think better of it. “Hope.”

“Hope?” He tips his head closer to mine, as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right.

“Hope.” I nod. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Riders Quadrant, but it isn’t a guarantee that I will survive it; but when General Melgren gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.” Gods, why am I running off at the mouth to this man? What’s the worst he’ll do? Kill you?

„Sure you can.” He shrugs. “You just might not like the consequences.”

I roll my eyes, and to my utter embarrassment, instead of pulling away now that I’m free, I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength. He certainly has enough to spare.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that both of us would live. And then we make it almost two months and I get…” I shake my head, clenching my jaw. “Hopeful.” The word tastes sour.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you are reminded that you can’t help Violet, and you give up. I’m starting to see. He holds my gaze locked with his. “Here’s the thing, Melgren. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Not hope that we live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” He shakes his head. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your father or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the entrance to the barracks, but he’s right behind me, close enough that the door would slam in his face if he wasn’t so unnaturally fast at catching it.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need.” he calls after me, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“My self-what?” I turn around, my jaw dropping.

“People die,” he says slowly, his jaw ticking before he drags in a deep breath. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

What an annoying prick.

I open my mouth to retort when I hear footsteps.

We turn around and face the man whom I know too well. He’s the aide of General Melgren.

Fuck, he must be back. I can feel my face turning as white as a ghost.

Xaden must see it too because he steps in front of me without a word. He’s trying to protect me?

“Wingleader Riorson I need a word with Cadet Melgren, leave.” The man says to Xaden without a glance at him.

“She’s in my chain of command. I don’t see why I should leave her here.” He crosses his arms. “If you have something to say then do it in front of me.”

“Fine.” The man nods and stares at me. “General Melgren wishes to see you. He returned from the front and like’d to hear your report.”

My god. I didn’t prepare a suitable story for him. I will be in big trouble, if not worse.

“I understand, I’ll be there.” I nod.

Without another word the man turns around and leaves us alone.

“What’s all this about?” Xaden looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. You heard him. The General wants to see me. I have to go.” I say and try to walk past him to the doors but he grabs my arm.

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He leans closer. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It was a surprise, nothing else.” I try to lie, in hope that he lets it slide. I don’t want him to find out.

“Why don’t you call him father?” He observes me. “You always call him General. He’s your father isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. It’s just that we’re cadets and it wouldn’t be appropriate.” I yank my arm and he releases me. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

I walk out the door, towards the building where the offices are located. I feel nauseous. Everystep on the stairs is harder. I’m scared.

I stop in front of his door. Breath in and out. Then I knock.

“Enter.”

I open the door and enter his office. The air is chilling because of the open window. I stand in front of his desk and wait until he’s done with writing whatever he’s writing.

“What happened since we talked last time?” He puts down his pen and looks at me with a cold gaze.

“The challanges are over for now, we started practicing on the Gauntlet.” I try to keep it short.

“How many challanges did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose a single one.” I reply in an emotionless tone. I need to lock up my feelings as usual. This is the only way to survive it. Later…later I can think about it.

“That was expected.” He nods with approval as he stands up and walks around the desk. “The Gauntlet?”

“Yesterday was our first session, I made it up on my first try.” I answer.

“And what about that Riorson kid and the other marked-ones?” He raises an eyebrow and stands in front of me.

I gulp.

“There’s nothing that’s worth mentioning.” I try and hope so hard he’d accept it.

He grabs my arm tightly and yanks me toward him.

“I will decide if it is worth it or not.” He squeezes my arm tighter. It will leave a bruise. “Do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, General.” I reply quickly.

“Good. Now tell me what you know.” He releases my arm and I try not to show that it hurt.

“They attend classes like anyone else. They don’t stand out.” I say the basic facts that anyone can know. I don’t want to betray Liam and his friends. “Most of the other cadets are avoiding them. Some of them are good at studying while others at fighting. They seem pretty normal to me.”

“Hm. And Riorson?” He asks with a calculating look.

“We don’t have much common classes. At Battle Brief he’s observant and clever. At the gym he’s strong and quick. He spends a lot of time with the leader of the Flame Section, Garrick Tavis.” I say only what’s neccesary to ease his suspicion.

“Do you ever see them in groups larger than three?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

The night at the tree. Images flashes through my mind. But… they didn’t do anything wrong.

“No. Never.” I shake my head.

“I see.” He looks at me with a gaze that makes me chill to the bones. “That’s all you could gather the past weeks? I heard you’re friends with Colonel Mairi’s son.” He spat the word friend as if it’s a disease.

“I’m close with him because of his relationship with Xaden, and he’s a first-year too.” I lie to him. I can’t bring more attention to Liam. He’s truly a good person. “He’s a pretty private person, but slowly opening up. Maybe later I can gather more information. I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“And the daggers? Did you see them with the marked-ones?”

“No, they mostly use the ones they earned at challenges.” I’m curious to why that strange dagger is important to him. “If I know what they are, maybe I could search more efficiently.”

“That’s above your paygrade, Cadet.” He says towering over me. “You’re dismissed.” He leans on his desk.

“Understood.” I say and turn toward the doors.

There’s a sound, a dagger cutting through the air. Instinctively I turn around and lean to the side.

I was almost too late. I feel the dagger grazing my cheek and then the blood.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He knows that I lied to him?

In the blink of an eye he’s there and squeezes my neck.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you’re alive is because of my mercy.” He leans closer and cuts off the air supply when he squeezes harder. “I expect useful information from you. If you have to then use your body. You’re only worth is your usefulness. I don’t need people who are useless.”

There’s a knock on the door behind me. He glares at me a moment longer then releases me and pulls out his dagger from the door and sheetes it.

I start coughing and try to squeeze enough air in my lungs through my bruised throat.

Damn. I almost died.

The General is already sitting at his desk when another knock sounds.

“Go, I have better things to do.”

I open the door and see General Sorrengail.

“General.” I greet her in a rasp voice.

She looks at my cheek where the blood still flows with a raised eyebrow then toward my neck.

Shit, I didn’t think. She’s not stupid. I have to get out of here.

I exit the office and without another word I’m stumbling down the stairs.

I need to go out. I need air. My thoughts are fuzzy. I almost died. The sentence repeats again and again in my head.

But depsite of it, I still can’t bear the thought of betraying the marked-ones. Liam. Xaden. I…like them.

But what if it’ll cost me my life?

#fanfiction #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x oc

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