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notasapleasure · 3 months

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Wip ask meme - @stripedroseandsketchpads also asked about the 'Au of an au' file, where in the Lymond band AU instead of not seeing Francis for years and years after the battle of the bands (i.e. Solway), Jerott goes to stay at the Edinburgh townhouse for a few days on his way back to Glasgow.

I was determined that I would write some J/F without Jerott overthinking things and preventing it being finished, so it rushes through quite breathlessly, but my excuse is trying to capture the reckless enthusiasm of youth?

Re-reading what I have I think it stalled because I was so furiously dumbstruck that Let's Dance by Bowie wasn't released until 1983 so couldn't be the sountrack to the scene I was writing. I never recovered my momentum *shrug*

Jerott/Francis fluffy smut (broken off before it gets very smutty though):

It was the first time in many, many years that Francis Crawford could say he'd brought a friend home. Gavin was away with work, Richard had a seat free in the car, and at the last minute, Jerott Blyth had agreed that maybe his dad could manage another day or two on his own with the hospital-assigned carer.

Jerott had, in fact, found that when earnest, cornflower blue eyes entreated him and a soft but firm grip squeezed his arm, accompanied by a smile that just needed his agreement in order to bloom, he was incapable of denying the boy who had just beaten him in the battle of the bands. He'd not been to many sleepovers himself, after all - precious few of the families of his school friends would have accepted him inside their homes with his dark skin and accented voice.

Sybilla, however, took it all in stride and exchanged merry pleasantries with him in French that was as accomplished, as refined as her son's. She showed them to the shed at the bottom of the garden and brought air mattresses and sleeping bags down from the loft. "Richard used to have sleepovers here all the time while Francis was away at school," she told them. "It's chilly at this time of year and you can always come in and use Francis' room, but this is where the music collection is..."

Francis smiled patiently, blithely, as his mother performed the hostess' duties: she would offer to bring drinks and snacks once - and when he said they could manage she would not push the offer a second time. She would make it clear that they were welcome to come inside for supper - Richard was to be dispatched to collect fish and chips - but they were under no obligation to sit at a table and could bring it back to the shed if they preferred. When Jerott offered money for his portion, she touched her hand to her chest, squeezed his shoulder, and beamed at Francis. "Mon cher. Absolutely not! You are our guest. Francis will not let you want for anything."

Then she paused before leaving them, pinning Francis with one token look of maternal assertiveness: "Ellie has school tomorrow, so if you do come inside, no punk after nine, ok?"

Francis shrugged. "Ok. She can come and hang out when she gets back though, right?"

"If she wants," Sybilla surveyed them both. "No beer for your little sister on a school night either, though!" she wagged a finger.

Francis' expression merely turned angelic. "I wouldn't dream of it, ma."

They were both itching for her to leave, and once she was gone, Francis turned to the record player and lifted the lid. Jerott practically did a knee slide across the carpet to get close to the library of vinyl, and the process of comparing notes and tastes began again in earnest, now with all the accompanying evidence either of them could want, and hadn't had to hand during the weeks staying in the hostel in Carlisle.

By the time Eloise joined them after school, the shed was adorned with stacks of albums left like stepping stones across the floor, half-empty mugs of cold tea that had accumulated on Sybilla's writing desk, and strata of crumpled biscuit packets and crumbs in the one tiny bin. Francis was pacing and gesturing wildly with a wooden guiro and his new friend sat on a beanbag, gazing up at him like he was listening to a pre-eminent philosopher, a guitar in his lap, his fingers loosely, idly following along with the melody on the record. When they spoke it was almost invariably in French, expressed at a million miles an hour, and Ellie, curious as she was about this boy who seemed as enraptured by Francis as she often felt herself, couldn't find any purchase on the conversation and soon retreated to the house.

Later, Francis dashed in to collect two portions of fish and chips when Richard called him from the other end of the dark garden, but it was his mother who arrested him in the parlour before he could help himself to a pair of ales to go with it and retreat back to the shed.

"All right, ma? Did you want us to come in, instead?"

"No, son," Sybilla reassured him, but her smile had a didactic, caring quality that made Francis pause instead of just brushing past her. "Go back out to your friend. I just wanted to..." her mouth opened and shut once or twice, and a little frown scored her brows.

Francis had so rarely seen her speechless that he put the bottles down. "Mum?"

She let out a laugh he might almost have said was nervous, and then rubbed his arm with a hand. "I just wanted you to know that I've asked Ellie to give you boys space. No one will disturb you in the shed. But, Francis sweetheart, you do know how to be responsible, don't you?"

He blinked, bemused by her serious tone. "Ellie can come and hang out, it's fine, really."

Sybilla smiled at this. "Oh. I don't think she felt very welcome, dear. A bit of a third wheel."

"What?!" Francis knew he was blushing. And, oh god, because it was his mother looking at him like that, speaking with such gentle tact and understanding, it made him blush even harder.

"It's fine, love," Sybilla insisted. "It's nothing new, at least to me, and I am merely happy if you are happy. But do be careful, won't you? Your...your brother probably has some, ah..." that wordly, hippy, Gallic youth she'd had fumbled the words and faltered as it came into contact with the reality of speaking about such things to her teenage son.

Francis was now certain he had turned the colour of King Crimson's first album cover. "No, Mum, it's not. I'm. Jerott's not. We're just listening to music."

"Yes, love," Sybilla nodded, like he'd said the exact opposite. She squeezed his arm again. "But do be careful, anyway."

She handed him the beers back, and Francis left the room with a robotic, astonished walk. His mind was still ploughing ceaseless furrows in the fertile ground of musical conversation, and he made himself shake off his mother's strange, unexpected interruption to the pleasant day he'd been spending. There was no point thinking about Sybilla's wild imagination - sometimes, he mused, she forgot she was in an Edinburgh townhouse and not on some flashy yacht with pin-ups and icons of the screen. And besides - so what if Jerott's company was pleasant not just for his conversation and his musical skill, but because his mouth hung open in an amazed pout when he listened to Francis speak, his eyes wide and thirsty to hear all Francis had to say; because of the way he smiled when he played and when he sang in an unrefined but strong voice, his French and Scottish accents mingling in a way he didn't know how to hide, so they added a cadence and a rhythm to his words that made Francis' ambitions, his hunger feel insatiable. So what? It was all academic - Francis could admire him all he wanted, but he had no expectation of Jerott returning his interest. He just wanted to make the most of every moment spent together while he could.

He grabbed two wrapped portions of fish and chips from the sparsely set dining table, muttered a hasty 'thanks' in Richard's direction, and then slipped back outside again, his escape as sleek and smooth as that of an alley-cat making off with the butcher's scraps.

The shed was a glowing haven at the foot of the garden and Francis' strides lengthened to a loping run as they so often had done when he needed to flee the house and find his own peace. Frost crunched beneath his shoes and his breath misted, and the cold night had swept his blushes away by the time he shouldered his way back through the door - his cheeks were fresh with new colour, he grinned from the simple pleasure of the short run, and then he laughed in delight at the album Jerott had chosen in his absence.

They sat down on the two beanbags, knee to knee, and fell upon the fish and chips with impatience.

Jerott teased that his didn't have enough vinegar on and stabbed at the chips in Francis' wrapping with a mischievous laugh. They sampled each other's beers, the necks of the two bottles warm and salty from the food.

Francis knew he could have spent all night the way they'd spent the afternoon, and Jerott seemed eager to pick up the guitar again. They opened the little cooler of beer kept out there and, arrogant with the suspicion that they were the only two teenagers in Edinburgh who really appreciated Django Reinhardt, showed each other the ways they had found of imitating his unique style.

Francis had no idea what time it was when he was bending to turn the LP and Jerott was indulging in some wild finger-picking, but as Jerott gazed mildly at the records and newspaper cuttings adorning the walls, he asked Francis a question that made him drop the needle with a scratch on the edge of the record.

"Did you have a girlfriend in Paris?"

He preferred to avoid the topic. He'd been glad it had never come up in Carlisle. Jerott was confident speaking often and with pride of his various girlfriends, but Francis felt his own affairs would be cheapened by the discussion. He accorded them the respect of not inviting others into their details.

"Nothing serious," he said after a careful pause. The music started up again and Jerott frowned for a moment and adjusted his fingering to meet it. He was still looking at the walls in an aimless, guileless sort of way.

"Huh," he grunted in acknowledgement. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

If it seemed a strange response to Francis, who had said so little. Perhaps Jerott wasn't looking for information so much as an excuse to say something else that was already on his mind.

"I never really felt like they were friends, friends, y'know? Didn't have that much to talk about."

"Mmm," Francis responded noncommittally, his own experiences having differed somewhat.

Jerott tossed his head to throw his black hair away from his face, a gesture that never failed to make Francis feel like there was a boot pressing on his solar plexus. Then, to add insult to injury, he flashed a wicked grin and ran a few bars of wild, joyous experimentation out on the guitar.

"It's a pity," Jerott said afterwards, one brow raised.

How could you define the invitation expressed in someone's eyes, in their stance? How could you be certain of what it was that shifted in the atmosphere of a room when one person made a come-on to another? Or was it all in Francis' mind, in his own delusional longing? He sat there and stared at Jerott's laughing challenge, at his raised chin with its slight dimple, his frank, uncomplicated gaze.

There was, he supposed, only one way to find out. Francis stood and approached Jerott and the guitar. "Show me what you did there again?"

"Hmm?" Jerott feigned uncertainty, but trilled off another virtuoso piece of improvisation.

Francis watched his fingers thirstily. He looked up. Jerott was looking back at him, maybe like he wanted to laugh, or to flee, but he stood his ground and attempted another series of notes that faltered partway through, cut off by his nervous chuckle.

Slowly, Francis stepped around the neck of the guitar, standing just behind Jerott's shoulder. He lifted his left hand to the frets, nudging Jerott's aside, and murmured instructions on how he would manage the shift in position if he were playing.

Jerott let him do all this, and Francis felt him hold his breath. Gently, catching up to Francis' timing, he let his fingers run over the strings to play the notes Francis held against the neck of the instrument.

Jerott glanced at him and then let out a breath all of a sudden.

"Just girlfriends?"

Standing behind him, Francis closed his eyes briefly, absorbing the excitement in Jerott's voice. He moved a little nearer, so his chest was close to touching Jerott's shoulder. "Not...exactly. Though...I can't claim much beyond...curiosity," he admitted quietly. He turned his face slightly away from Jerott's, like he was focussing on his left hand on the neck of the guitar, like he didn't want the other man to worry he was forcing anything.

But god, he felt Jerott's eyes on him, and the feeling warmed him to his core.

Jerott said nothing, but his left hand, redundant, replaced on the neck of the guitar by Francis' hand, lifted instead to Francis' face and turned it, hesitantly, with such gentleness that Francis closed his eyes again, back towards his own.

Warm fingers trailed along his cheek, his jaw, waiting for permission of a sort. Francis' eyes fluttered open. He took in Jerott's open mouth, his heavy eyelids, the way his gaze rested on Francis' own mouth. These were universal signals, weren't they?

It wasn't clear who moved first - they had both committed. Jerott's lips were warm, softer than Francis had expected, and the first touch of them sent a trill of excitement through his body.

His hand remained gentle as their mouths met, questing, steady and still uncertain, but each of Jerott's breaths that Francis felt against his skin, each movement of Jerott's lips against his, seemed like a fist reaching into his guts and clenching tightly. He gasped and couldn't be embarrassed by the longing in it - instead he deliberately let himself make another sound, deep in his throat, not quite explicit enough to be a moan, but something encouraging.

It worked - Jerott's hand cupped his cheek more securely, and he echoed Francis' sound. The feeling of said echo in his mouth made Francis want to collapse at the knees, so he let his lost, flailing right hand reach for Jerott's back and smooth its way over the warm body beneath the thin t-shirt.

Jerott drew his face closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing into Francis' mouth, confident and experienced where the rest of him stood frozen, like he was still guessing what to do. He tasted of the lager they'd been drinking and the cigarettes he usually smoked, a new combination of flavours Francis has never encountered.

As he tried to twist into the kiss, despite the guitar, Jerott's enthusiasm showed more: Francis felt it in his tongue, in his lips, in the hold on his cheek. Jerott liked to kiss and he was good at it - and he liked to show he was good at it.

Rather than let out the whimper he wanted to, Francis tightened his hold on Jerott's body, leaning his own face into the kiss, pushing back with his tongue, meeting Jerott's enthusiasm and skill with his own, just like when they played together.

With an abrupt need, Jerott released him so that he could pull the guitar strap up over his head and lay the instrument aside. He was breathing hard, his mouth red and wet from the touch of Francis' lips. There was no self-doubt in his eyes when he stepped back towards Francis, only an ambition that corresponded to the one Francis had been nurturing for weeks in Carlisle.

He couldn't wait to be back in Francis' arms, and Francis welcomed his body, his hands finding their way around Jerott's flanks to the small of his back, to the groove of his spine.

Jerott clasped his jaw, his fingers reaching round to rub the short hairs at the nape of Francis' neck.

They were around the same height and both tried to be the one to lean down into the kiss, which turned it into something of a call and response: Jerott folded Francis against him for a handful of breaths and then Francis pushed back and responded with his own pressure, coming onto the balls of his feet, letting his chest lean into Jerott's chest. Francis's skin felt raw from Jerott's stubble - it grew thicker and rougher than his yet did - but he pursued the feeling again and again.

To the soundtrack of decades old jazz their hands, wondering, sought to explore as their mouths did. Francis' fingers crept up Jerott's back, comparing the feel of him with all the glances he had stolen at the curve just above Jerott's waistband, where his form was accentuated when he played guitar, leaning his hips into the instrument the way he was leaning them against Francis now.

For his part, Jerott cradled Francis' jaw in his palms, angled him how he wanted him for his kisses, then tilted Francis' head back and laid a trail of exquisite touches with his mouth and - Francis gasped again - gentle tugs at Francis' skin with his teeth, down the line of his neck and then back up again. He nuzzled his face into the hair behind Francis' ear and kissed him there, he dragged his teeth down the outer edge of the ear and caught the lobe with his tongue before sucking it.

The sound Francis let out was not one he immediately recognised as coming from his own body. He tightened his hold on Jerott lest his composure fail him, and pressed back against Jerott's hips with his own. Whatever usually kept him firm against gravity seemed to have deserted him - his knees trembled and his legs prickled like he'd walked into the middle of a nettle patch.

At a time like this, what else could he resort to but poetry?

"…un serment fair d'un peu plus pres, une promesse plus précise, un aveu qui veut se confirmer, un point rose…"*

"Vraiment?" Jerott's breathy laugh against Francis' neck sent another thrill through him. "Poésie?"

"Naturellement," Francis groaned.

It made Jerott pause and move away to look at him. One hand held Francis' cheek, kept him turned to Jerott's expression, which was steadier than Francis felt, thoughtful and almost a little sad. "Is it though? Natural?"

Francis was silent, struggling to get a grasp on his meaning, but then he raised one hand from Jerott's back to his face and swept smooth black strands of hair away from his brow. "Doesn't it feel that way?"

Jerott wore a small frown, but he didn't try to pull away. In fact, as Francis' hand settled at his neck, he let his own touch move lower, down Francis' chest, sweeping round his ribcage, pulling him near, though Francis didn't think they could get much closer. Touch felt muffled through the layers of their jeans, but even so he knew he wasn't the only one who was getting hard after all this contact.

"Not to me, not at first," Jerott said, and though Francis' heart thumped and struggled, panicked by this admission, Jerott didn't release him. "I was never...curious before. But it's like you've...you've put a spell on me," he laughed at himself. "That sounds dumb, right? But I want it. I want this. I want to be - bewitched."

He kissed Francis again, and Francis' mind seemed to swill and swirl at all these revelations. He'd been right and he'd been wrong, and not only about Jerott's interests.

Between kisses, Francis managed a dazed grin. "And you said you didn't understand poetry and lyrics...but I've 'bewitched' you? What am I, La Belle Dame Sans Merci?"

"I don't know what you are," Jerott ignored the reference and made a sound of pleasure as he kissed Francis. Simultaneous to the touch of his mouth, he squeezed their bodies together and flexed his hips up against Francis' hips. "But you do something to me..."

Francis moaned at the way Jerott's body had pulsed against him, and he felt the tightening of his jeans, their constraint on him, more acutely. Given half the chance, there was a lot that Francis wanted to do to him, not least after a statement like that. He pressed back against Jerott's body and kissed him deep and slow, holding the back of Jerott's head with one hand.

Theorising that what people offered was often a sign of what they'd like doing to themselves, he kissed his way across Jerott's cheek to his ear and sucked toothily on the lobe. From the sound Jerott made, he'd guessed correctly.

Jerott then laughed at himself - the room was silent, the B-side had finished - and leaned his cheek against Francis'. "Fucking hell..." he gasped. He sounded astonished, but cheerful.

Nevertheless, to Francis' momentary regret, his next move was to step away, looking bashfully down at the carpet. His cheeks were flushed - so was the skin at his throat, where it disappeared below the collar of his t-shirt. He licked his lips and chuckled again, then bent to pick up an album from the floor.

He flashed a grin at Francis and dove to replace Django Reinhardt with a Bowie album. He looked up from where he knelt, his smile wild and inviting, and he mimed the guitar part as Francis stalked towards him, echoing his gestures, putting on an exaggerated show of copying Bowie's singing style.

---

*[An oath that is closer, a promise more precise, a confession that wants to be confirmed, a pink dot… - Rostand, un baiser, from Cyrano]

And the soundtrack that should have been:

youtube

If you say run, I'll run with you And if you say hide, we'll hide Because my love for you would break my heart in two If you should fall, into my arms and tremble like a flower

#wip ask meme #the band au #still working my way through responses to that meme y ii k e s #lymond chronicles #my writing #my wips #Youtube

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illfoandillfie · 5 months

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2023 Advent: Day 15

This idea was partially inspired by an episode of Neighbours lmao. I was checking out the revival and in one scene Toadie was making breakfast for his new wife and something about it made me want to write newly married Ben.

Warnings: Again, nothing more than minimal editing, it's another sweet one.

It was closer to midday than you were accustomed to waking, but you had a good excuse. The wedding reception had continued late into the night. Though not for all your guests. The first to leave the party were the older members of the crowd, picking a much more reasonable hour to call it a night. Then, not long after, those who had young kids and couldn’t burden babysitters all night said their last congratulations and goodbyes. There were a handful of others, those who had early starts and other responsibilities, who trickled out reluctantly. But most of your closest friends stayed, as well as a handful of family members close to your age, celebrating long into the night. You’d drunk as much as the bartender would serve, danced to every song the DJ had and, all in all, felt you’d done all you could to celebrate your marriage.

Ben’s parents had, kind-heartedly, warned you not to overdo it before they left, but neither you nor Ben paid them much mind. You didn’t have any plans for the next day – it was a Sunday for one thing, and those were usually fairly relaxed, but your honeymoon also wasn’t starting for another half a week, so there was no need to worry about over sleeping or anything like that. But the slight delay also meant you had no intentions of holding off having sex until you were away. So, still amped up from the night of partying and more than a little horny from the sheer amazement that you and Ben were really, actually, married now, you and Ben ended up fooling around once you finally got home. Not that you were in a fit state to do too much. Mostly you just clumsily made out, giggling a lot, until you fell asleep.

Ben was still asleep when you woke and stumbled to the bathroom, snoring a little louder than you thought necessary, and completely oblivious to your getting up. It wasn’t until you headed to the kitchen looking for water and perhaps some pain killers for your headache, that you even noticed how long you’d slept in. And then you realised how long it had been since you had eaten anything. If you were at all worried about waking Ben as you pottered about the kitchen, you needn’t have been. There wasn’t so much as a sound from his part of the house, even when you accidentally banged a cupboard door shut. You ended up pulling out so much from the fridge and pantry that you figured you might as well make a full English. It wasn’t something you had often, so it felt sort of special, perfect for the morning after your wedding. There was something about the idea of making your new husband breakfast that felt kind of cute, like you were playing grown up. Plus, keeping so many things from burning helped keep you alert while you waited for the coffee to brew. Ben didn’t surface until you were practically finished cooking, which was something of a relief since you’d been weighing up whether or not to wake him or let him keep sleeping it off. He stumbled into the kitchen, still looking half asleep, groaning at how bright it was. “I made breakfast, or lunch I guess” you said, pressing a glass of water into his hands, “coffee too if you want it.” Ben downed the water and wiping his mouth said, “best wife ever.” The word made you feel warm and happy as you turned back to the various frying pans you had on the stove top, dolling everything out onto two plates. As you went, Ben made a coffee, becoming more himself with each sip, eventually awake enough to add, “It smells so good babe,” and then more jokingly, “I could get used to this.” “But you won’t,” you laughed back, “tomorrow it’s back to making your own toast.” “Maybe I’ll make us something nicer tomorrow. Crepes or something fancy like that.” “Since when have you known how to make crepes?” you asked, turning around with a full plate in each hand. Ben shrugged, “can’t be that difficult. Here, let me,” he swooped in to take the plates from you, sneaking in a quick kiss at the same time. “Best husband ever,” you giggled, following him out to the table.

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine

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scribe-of-elysium · 2 years

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Quietus - Status Update - June 2022

Readers waiting for the next chapter may have noticed that it’s approaching almost 2 months now since my last update. A long time for me!

Due to lock-down ending, and busy life resuming at a very fast pace, I’ve had little free time to write (proof is me posting this at a ridiculous hour I'm normally asleep at). The lack of time will continue over the summer. I’m now back to full-time office hours, and when I’m not working on weekends or my days off, my time is spent mostly outdoors. Writing has unfortunately dropped way down my priority list, as was the case before lock-down. For a while, I was forcing myself to make time in order to maintain a regular update schedule in my eagerness to complete, including writing late nights and early mornings, but that resulted in me placing a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself, and that’s something I can’t and won’t continue to do, for the sake of my mental and physical well-being.

A huge amount of content has been put out over the last two years since the pandemic began. I picked up Quietus from the point just after Sakura had first returned to the surface, and have now reached the beginning of the very last arc. Since I had a lot of free time to write during lock-down/remote working, I also had a lot of motivation to keep writing.

Unfortunately, I now have neither the time or the motivation/inspiration to continue at the regular pace I’ve been working at over the last two years. The final arc requires a lot of dedicated time, effort and concentration, and I can’t set aside those things right now. It’s the most difficult arc, because it contains the build up to the ending, and a lot of complicated battle scenes, as well as the resolution of all plot points, all of which need to be executed right. Not rushed or sloppily written.

I feel under pressure to deliver the ending right, and to the highest standard. I’ve also gotten frustrated by how never-ending the story feels in terms of how demanding it is. Maybe that’s another reason, besides lack of time, that I have not actively pushed myself to schedule in even short writing slots week after week. This last arc is intimidating and overwhelming, not just because of all the characters, events, development and plot I need to juggle. Quietus, to me, isn’t just any fanfic; it’s been a special project I’ve been working on for over a decade. It’s been a distraction and comfort through some very difficult years, a story I’ve really poured a lot of love into, and I owe it to myself, and the crazy time and effort and thought I have invested into the story, to not mess the plot up in its final stages just because I’m really impatient to be done with it.

For this reason, after consideration, I’ve decided I will be withholding on writing and releasing future chapters. This means the story will be ‘on hold’ until further notice after the next chapter is updated.

This does NOT mean I intend to abandon it. I’ve felt tempted to stop. It would be easier and kinder to me. You can’t even imagine how much planning and energy a story of this scale requires to continue. I’d feel like an absolute failure if I dropped it for good though, and I hate starting something I don’t finish. I also know how horrible it would be for readers to be left without an ending. But I need to see it through to the end for myself, before anything or anyone else. Or at the very least, take it as far as I can go before it feels absolutely impossible to carry on with it. Right now it’s difficult - but not impossible.

It’s disappointing, being so close to the ending, that I have to stop and lose momentum now, but I’d rather place it on pause and work on it slowly as and when I can, giving it my full attention as it deserves, than carry on half-heartedly and rush it to completion.

I’m also aware there are many readers who have fallen behind. Whether they were waiting for the fic to end before reading the rest, or simply haven’t been able to find the time to read, delaying releases gives them a chance to catch up, if they wish to do so. The general drop in reader views/feedback over the last chapters suggests that might be the case. If so, then a delay is beneficial, given most people appear to not be caught up anyway.

The next chapter is about 75% done, so readers will have another chapter (or possibly two, if I complete and split the rest of it) uploaded before I place the story on a formal hiatus. Updates after that will be fewer and farther between, and will likely be posted in bulk chapters of 2-3, until I reach completion. Writing continuously without feeling the pressure to stop and upload is better for me. I’ll see how it goes. Maybe if my motivation, energy/time and inspiration return sooner, things might change again, but for the foreseeable, no further new content will be released after the next chapter.

Though I will be on hiatus from writing for Quietus, I'd still love to have feedback and hear from my readers during this period, including from those who are behind and have yet to catch up to the latest chapters.

Thank you to everyone who is still on board for being so supportive and understanding.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*

#Quietus #Status update #Chapter 109 preview #I should be asleep #This is how little free time I have to post when I'm normally asleep #SasuSaku #Fanfiction #Hades #Persephone

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veronicaphoenix · 5 months

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IKIGAI (or A REASON FOR BEING) — CHAPTER FOURTEEN · LAST CHAPTER

“You two have a serious problem,” Jolly interjected, his irritation even more palpable than Lia and Noah’s, despite his calm demeanor. “I can’t decide if you’re acting like children or like a married couple. Either way, you’re fucking annoying. If you can’t stand the thought of the other fucking someone else, sort yourselves out, but leave me out of it next time. I’m not going out anywhere else with you two as long as this banter goes on. Grow the fuck up, please.”

Author's note: It's here! I can't believe I finished the first part of this series in about two months while also doing an MA and working.

The next part of this full story will start three years after the end of Ikigai. I'm also posting a small unedited snippet at the end of this.

If you have any questions because I'm making this very confusing, please do not hesitate to write a comment or ask me on tumblr. I'll be very happy to tell you anything about the story :)

Warnings: most characters in this chapter are slightly drunk and it's not nice.

Chapter tags: pure angst, best friends not acknowledging that they're in love with each other and being angry, pissed Jolly, swearing and mentions of sex. | Word count: 3.691 | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

CHAPTER 14

Lia is 22. Noah is 23.

“What’s the matter with him?”

Lia furrowed her brow and diverted her gaze over her shoulder toward the source of the persistent attention. The guy she’d been flirting with for the past ten minutes, Shaun, had been giving her his undivided attention, but in the last two minutes he seemed to be distracted by something in the far distance, behind her.

“Oh,” she replied, smiling again and playing it down. “It’s just Noah, my best friend.”

“Your best friend? Given the way he’s been looking at me since we started talking, anyone would think otherwise.”

“Not at all. I’m like his little sister. He can be a bit overprotective sometimes.”

Casting another glance over her shoulder, Lia muted a “stop it” without vocalizing a sound. Noah effortlessly understood the message, and let his shoulders drop as he turned away, directing his focus to the bar counter where his half-drank beer waited in a glass.

Jolly was sitting on his left, blissfully oblivious to Noah’s disquiet as he engrossed in a lively conversation with the girl who had served them their drinks. The ambience hum of various conversations, intertwined with the warm glow of the venue’s lights, set the stage for the casual Saturday night. The trio had decided to go out to break from the work-from-home routine. It had been a pretty busy week, the guys had had a lot of meetings, deadlines pressing on them, and now that their schedule seemed to give them a three-day break, Jolly, Noah, and Lia had decided to just go to a bar downtown, have a few drinks, and maybe grab dinner in a nearby restaurant.

Yet, the slight thrill they might have felt at the idea of a night out, particularly Noah, was swiftly overshadowed a mere half-hour into their escapade as Lia became the point of attention of a persistent guy sitting not far from them. His blue-eyed gaze had been fixed on her since their arrival. Lia hadn’t taken much time to notice the weight of his eyes on her, and she, with her spirits high, decided to give him a chance. She had grabbed her beer and walked up to him, introducing herself. The guy had two friends with him that greeted Lia as she exchanged words with the strangers, all the while Noah’s eyes observing the scene, analyzing the men’s behavior and their body language. Jolly had nudged him, urging him to chill and enjoy the night, but it wasn’t that simple. He hated himself for that, but he couldn’t stop himself, either.

So, when Lia noticed him staring with a nonsensical brewing fury in his eyes and told him to stop, he was overcome with the realization that maybe this was a fight he could never win, and all he could do was give up, but the thought only made something else surge inside of him. Rather than assuaging, his anger intensified, and suddenly he felt angry at Lia.

Downing his beer, he ordered another and sought distraction around him in a desperate attempt to avert his attention anywhere else, far from her.

His eyes chanced upon a young blonde woman a few feet away, sitting alone. She exuded an air of innocence and shyness, engrossed in her phone while patiently waiting for her friend to return from the restroom. She was wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt with some design and letters on it. Noah recognized the lettering immediately. Sensing an opportunity he approached her.

"Hey, nice choice with the Linkin Park tee,” he started, giving her one of his most charming smiles. “Big fan?”

The girl, caught off guard by Noah's good looks and voice, blushed but managed to nod in agreement. Noah couldn't help but feel a pang of desperation. He might be doomed, he thought, given that Linkin Park was one of Lia's favorite bands. He was tempted to look back at where she was sitting, still engaged in that so cheerful conversation with that blue-eyed guy. She doesn’t even like guys with blue eyes, he thought. They’re not her type, so why is she with him?

Containing a sigh and putting on his most enamoring behavior, he ignored his thoughts.

"You know, I'm actually in a band myself,” he continued.

Noah adeptly wove a tale that made him sound like the most fascinating musician she had ever encountered. The girl, whose name was Kate, was mesmerized by his storytelling, and found herself drawn further into the allure of hispresence. A few minutes into the conversation, she complimented his tattoos, remarking how painful it must have been to endure so many hours of needles sinking into his skin. He shrugged it off and subtly showcased more of them, lifting the short sleeve of this t-shirt to reveal the intricate ink adorning the top of his arm and shoulder.

Reveling in her attention, he continued to engage her with facts and anecdotes about his life.

Meanwhile, Lia, engrossed in her conversation with Shaun and laughing at the jokes his two male friends were making, couldn't help but glance back to the men she’d come with. Her eyes widened as she witnessed Noah with that stranger, a blonde girl that was smiling up at him as he talked and looking at him as if she was about to melt. A sudden wave of displeasure washed over her.

The blonde girl was not the only one to catch Noah's attention. Another girl joined the group, and Noah politely extended his arm, shaking her hand. This new girl didn’t seem that much captivated by Noah’s charm, much to Lia’s relief. Nevertheless, the way the other female was giving attention to Noah was making her cringe.

Noah invited both girls for a drink and gestured towards Jolly, moving back to let them see him, but he was still immersed in conversation with the waitress. Lia found herself grappling with a bunch of thoughts that she couldn’t answer. Was this what they had come here for? To get a distraction from each other and end up by a stranger’s side? Was that what she had really wanted instead of being with Jolly and Noah? But I spend the days with them. I live with them, she thought. I’m just looking for a break…

But when Noah excused himself to use the restroom, Lia took it upon herself to change the way the night events were unfolding. She stood up, leaving the table and ignoring Shaun’s attempt at physical contact. He’d had an arm draped above her shoulders on the padded couch they were seated, and when she moved away, his fingers touched the skin of her bare shoulder.

Lia approached the blonde girl and her friend with a big smile. She bent over the counter to order another beer, the ends of her long brown hair touching the counter and falling on her face.

"I see you've met Noah," she casually began, turning to them and drawing their attention. She put a few strands of hair behind her pierced ear.

Lia could tell that the blonde one was visibly surprised by her presence, by the tattoos covering her arms and the sharp lines of her face, her black outfit and cargo boots.

"Um, yes,” she inquired with a hushed tone, flush creeping up to her cheeks. Oh, it was so obvious she was already rapt in Noah’s charm and his good looks, probably his voice, too. On top of that, she was wearing a t-shirt of one of her favorite bands. Ugh. “Do you know him?"

Lia handed the waiter a five-dollar bill and, smirking, leaned into the girl.

"Yeah, he's my friend. Listen,” she feigned a little preoccupation.” I know he's charming and all, but you shouldn't get too hung up on him. He's got a girlfriend."

It was a good lie, good enough to make a girl like her move out of the way.

Kate’s eyes widened, and she exchanged glances with her friend at her other side.

"He didn't say anything,” Kate replied, her voice lower than before, as if she already felt she had committed a crime of some sort.

"Of course he didn't,” Lia reassured her. “But I'm telling you for your own good. And for his. When Lisa finds out, she's gonna kill him."

The other girl swore under her breath, and Lia nodded, satisfied with her improvised stunt.

“I think we should go, Kate.”

Kate hesitated, looking into Lia’s eyes expecting to see anything that could make her stay. She had really liked that boy and she had hoped that she could get to know him better… But Lia’s eyes remained the same, telling her that she had no option.

Kate thanked Lia, she grabbed her purse, and followed her friend towards the exit.

Lia dropped her shoulders and let out a sigh. Before Jolly noticed her, she walked back to the table where Shaun had got distracted by some random chat with his colleagues. Lia missed the moment when Noah came out from the restroom and crossed Kate and her friend on their way out.

Returning to the table with a beer in hand, Shaun draped an arm over Lia's shoulder, this time making sure the physical contact was there and that he had her locked by his side. He asked her if everything was okay and she answered cheerfully, even though she felt a sting of guilt in her chest, in her heart. Shaun pulled Lia closer, his face getting closer to hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and he probably smelt the same on hers.

Unaware of the tall figure approaching, Shaun’s other hand fell on Lia thigh and squeezed as his face leaned a little bit forward to hers.

Then, whatever spell must’ve been there —if there had been any— was broken by Noah’s rough voice.

“What the hell, Lia?” His voice cut through the air, through the music, drawing hers and the other three guys sat at the table attention.

Her heart raced as she realized that, by the look on his face, he had found out.

Shit. So much for a quick stunt, she thought.

"What?" Lia asked, blinking up at him. He was really imposing when he stood so close to her in his full height.

“’What?’” He repeated, incredulous. “Who the fuck is Lisa?”

Lia bit her lip. She was in trouble. Next to her, Shaun was also looking up at Noah, but he didn’t take in the anger that was emanating from Noah because he was totally oblivious to how bad he could react if someone pressed his buttons.

“Hey,” he interrupted, eyeing Noah up with his blue eyes and a slight frown. “What’s up, dude?” He asked the question to Noah as if he had just ruined a moment, which only helped to make Noah even more pissed.

Noah just shot him a glare, sharp and wordless, that said “shut up”.

"I don't know any Lisa," Lia responded, deliberately feigning ignorance. Why was she behaving like this? She had never been like this with Noah, her best friend. For a moment she felt disoriented and didn’t recognize herself. Confusion crept into her thoughts.

“Funny because apparently, I have a girlfriend with that name, and those girls just left thinking I’m a douchebag,” Noah retorted, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow and the restrained intensity of his words.

“What is this all about?” Shaun interjected, sensing the tension between Lia and Noah.

Noah's anger intensified at her lie and even more as he noticed that moron’s hand on Lia’s thigh and his arm over her shoulders, keeping her in site. Shaun opened his mouth to say something else, but it only prompted Noah to raise his rough voice and deliver a stern warning.

"Get your hands off her," Noah commanded, the tension escalating. He locked eyes with Shaun, brown against blue, fire against ice.

"Noah," Lia sensed an impending storm in his tone and rose to her feet before Shaun could react, removing her body from his grasp. She placed a hand on Noah’s chest.

"Dude, are you her father?" Shaun retorted defiantly, rising to his feet, too. "She came to me, idiot." His attitude had changed, and Noah’s escalating anger was now mirrored in Shaun’s face.

Great, Lia thought. I have really messed it up.

"You were eye-fucking her the whole time since she arrived!" Noah grunted, pointing at him. Lia noticed the veins on his neck growing taut. "You should have shown some fucking respect."

"This is unnecessary," Lia interjected, feeling slightly off-kilter due to the influence of the alcohol. The effects of it were palpable on all of them. She could tell when Noah was also being controlled by the few drinks he’d had.

Behind them and not too far, the waitress pointed towards them, and Jolly noticed the rising tension and cursed upon realizing that it was his friends.

"Unnecessary is this guy putting his hands on you. Get lost and leave her alone," Noah declared, his voice echoing against the low murmur of other conversations around them and the melodies emanating from the corners where the venue’s speakers were located.

"I'll leave her alone when she asks me to," Shaun defiantly responded.

"Shaun, please. Just... don't say anything," Lia implored, her voice was quickly swallowed by the music.

"Oh, you're gonna let him tell you what to do?" Shaun scoffed.

"No, that's not what I'm doing,” she replied, exasperation growing on her veins.

"It definitely seems like it."

The way he was talking now was far different from the earlier charm he had used to entice her a while ago, to get her to join him and his friends at his table.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked him, her eyes piercing through the dimly lit haze of the bar, casting a judgmental look upon him.

"Are you two fucking each other? Is that where the problem is coming from?" Shaun insinuated, his words slicing through the charged atmosphere like a knife.

Noah’s eyes widened. He would let his friends make as many jokes as they wanted about Lia and him, but this dude? He had no fucking right.

Noah surged forward, his movements driven by an impulse, but before he could touch Shaun, Lia pressed both hands against Noah’s chest, acting as a human barricade. Jolly appeared from behind and grabbed Noah with a firm grip.

"Enough," Jolly interjected firmly, pulling Noah away.

"You go fuck yourself," Lia snapped at Shaun, her words laced with anger and disdain. What a disappointment.

"Screw you. You're nothing but a cocktease,” Shaun spat back, the words dripping with resentment.

"Shut your mouth before I do it for you!" Noah yelled as Jolly continued fighting to guide him towards the exitbefore any of the security guards took matter into their hands.

As the tempest of emotions raged on, Lia, not one to be outdone, knocked down Shaun’s drink, a cascade of liquid splattering across the table and his shirt. The alcohol journeyed down until it reached him, not only staining his shirt but also drenching his pants in the process.

"Enjoy your drink.”

"Bitch!"

Jolly retrieved Noah’s car keys from his back pocket and hoped that once in the confines of the car the chaos would subdue. But oh, was he wrong… As soon as they were all settled, Noah in the front and Lia in the back, they started throwing accusations and grievances at each other. Lia blamed Noah for spoiling the evening, while Noah, in return, retaliated reminding her of how immature her stunt had been. And for what? When Jolly intervened to tell them that they were both accountable for their own contributions to the discord, Noah and Lia told him to shut up at the same time, to which he replied telling both to fuck off.

The tension only escalated further when Noah unexpectedly opened Lia’s door when they reached the driveway of the house and grabbed her arm as she emerged, to keep her steady. She resisted his grasp, their eyes locked in a volatile exchange.

“Go take a shower. You’re drunk,” he ordered, his disappointment and irritation evident in his voice.

“So are you, and stop telling me what to do,” she replied making her way towards the house.

Jolly, overworked by their ongoing altercation, opened the door and, with deliberate indifference, proceeded inside, depositing the keys into a small decorative bowl near the entrance.

“Given your childish behavior someone has to!” Noah shouted walking behind her. “Don’t ever think about bringing home any more jerks like that one! You hear me?”

“I can hear you perfectly and I don’t care!” She replied, entering the house and removing her boots, steadying herself against the wall.

“You should! It’s not just you living in this house, princess!” He slammed the door shut with a resounding thud, adding to everyone’s frustration.

Lia growled at him. She didn’t understand why he felt the need to say that, especially considering her infrequent instances of brining boys home. The irony wasn’t lost on her, knowing full well that Noah was the one to bring girls every once in a while and letting them stay the night. On occasion, she could even her them from her own room, for God’s sake.

“Living with you is so annoying!” Lia’s shout reverberated through the hallway. She threw boots towards the shoe rack by the entrance.

“Oh, is it? Excuse me for looking after you!” He got back at her while he took off his jacket and flung it towards the couch without even bothering to look where it fell. His gaze was fixed on Lia’s, on her big brown eyes ablaze with fire and adrenaline. She was intoxicating, but he wouldn’t let her get away with this.

“You were going to hit him for flirting with me!” Lia punctuated her accusation, advancing towards him. “That’s not looking after me! It’s called ruining my night!”

“Okay, so you can get away with telling girls that I have a girlfriend to keep them away? What kind of stunt is that?” He opened in arms in a gesture of exasperation. “That’s so… childish!”

“Of course! And you’re such a big boy wanting to get into fights with whoever looks my way! Thank you for being my knight in shining armor even if I never asked for it!” Lia’s retort dripped with sarcasm and resentment.

“Say that to him!” Lia pointed at Noah and quickly walked up the stairs, retreating to her bedroom and locking herself in with a resounding thud of the door.

Now alone, Jolly and Noah found themselves enveloped in a tense silence. Noah’s eyes remained in the last spot where he had seen Lia until he decided he’d had enough, and he slumped onto the sofa.

“What the fuck, man?” Jolly broke the silence as he stood in front of him, hands at his hips.

“She just…” Noah ran his hands through his hair, emitting a low, contained growl. “She drives me crazy.”

“I can see that,” Jolly acknowledged, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I…”

“What are you going to say this time? The same old bullshit? That you’re just looking out for her and you knew that the guy wouldn’t be good enough for her?” Jolly cut in.

Sometimes Noah hated how much Jolly knew him.

“Noah, that excuse is not valid anymore. No one will ever be enough for Lia, according to you. Have you stopped for a second to consider that you keep saying that maybe because you think you are the one who will be? Have you thought that maybe… you’re in love with her?”

Noah’s eyes shot up at him.

Had Jolly lost his mind?

“I’m not fucking in love with her,” he replied immediately, but an uncomfortable silence followed. Jolly studied him as Noah visibly struggled to articulate his thoughts, his reasons. “She’s my best friend. Why is it so shocking that I feel a responsibility towards her?” He sought to justify himself, his gestures emphasizing the absurdity of Jolly’s proposition. “Her mother neglected her all her life, her father is God knows where. Her grandparents don’t give a fuck. I’m the only one she has. She’s my family,” he made a pause, and when he saw that Jolly remained just as skeptic as before, he stood up again and raised his voice. “And no, I’m not fucking in love with her!”

He went to bed that night clinging to that mantra, and Lia, in the room in front of his, grappled with her own tumultuous thoughts. She wondered why she told that girl that Noah had a girlfriend, why she had felt so betrayed, so… jealous? For a while, she wished she could go back in time to when she was just a teenager, when summers were spent either in Noah’s room making music or by the lake, with Noah’s growing body swimming around her, his wet hair stuck to his forehead, and his smile shining under the afternoon sun. She missed the smell of nature, of blooming flowers and the trees that kept them safe in that corner of the world that for years seemed to belong only to them. She missed sitting on the deck with Noah, shoulders touching, and chatting away as the sun set, throwing rocks in the water, competing to see whose would go further.

That was where they kissed for the first time, where they kissed each other.

The memory made her stomach sank.

She put the pillow over her head and screamed.

SNIPPET BELONGING TO KOI NO YOKAN - MISSING CHAPTERS THAT TIE WITH THE ENDING OF IKIGAI

3 YEARS LATER

"Lia".

She turned as soon as she heard her name, nearly losing her balance in the process. I reached out an arm to catch her, but she managed to steady herself before I touched her. Behind her, Emery and Amalia stifled a string of giggles. I shot them a quick disapproving glance over Lia's head that didn't seem to mollify them.

"I know what you're going to say," Lia started saying, as if my sudden presence hadn't surprised her, and pointed her index finger at me. "I'm not drunk." She touched my chest with her finger and her body leaned toward mine. Her gaze still seemed to focus clearly on what was in front of her and she didn't babble, but from the joviality with which she spoke and her lively movements it was clear which way she was headed towards. "Not yet."

"I know," I replied, wrapping the fingers of my hand around her wrist and pulling her finger away from my chest, "but I think we should go back to the hotel."

Lia pouted. Her shoulders slumped and she made a disappointed face. Then she said my name in that way that, for some reason, made me fall to my knees at her feet.

"Noowwaah!"

When we were kids and ever since we met, Lia had always mispronounced my name. I remember the first few times it had annoyed me, and I had spent week after week repeating to her that my name wasn't pronounced that way. She had finally learned to say it right, but sometimes she would let slip that "nowaaah" that over the years had begun to sink in. Lia only called me that way when she was drunk, sick, or when she needed my help, and I couldn't help but get attached to that way of calling me and the expression that appeared on her face.

"Just a little while longer, please."

"No, Lia. You've had too much to drink. Come on, let's go. You know you'll thank me tomorrow."

"Ten more minutes, please," she said, leaning against my chest with her chin raised. "Please? Let me finish this beer and say goodbye to the girls. I'll give you a back massage, I promise."

I looked at her with a raised brow.

"Wow, what do you have to do to get one of those?"

Perfect, I thought as Mitch appeared at my back. I held Lia with one hand around her waist as I felt her melt.

"Noah wants us to leave now, but I haven't finished my beer yet."

Mitch, who was no longer wearing the sweatshirt he'd been wearing during the concert and had a cuba libre in his hand, looked at me as if I had no right to look out for her. She was my best friend; I knew her better than anyone and cared for her better than anyone else. The one who had no say there was him.

"The party has just started," he said to me in his deep voice.

"Right?!" Lia hummed, looking at me as if it was the first time someone was agreeing with her.

"Lia," I looked at her sternly, ignoring Mitch. Lia had long understood what I meant when I said her name that way.

After a few seconds, she puffed, slumping her shoulders and pouting.

"Alriiiiight. Ten minutes?"

"Five," I concluded.

"Okay. You're an angel."

She kissed me on the cheek. The stench of alcohol coming from her reached my nose.

Before she could pull away from me, Mitch interrupted us again.

He pointed at us, wagging his index finger from Lia to me and from me to Lia, "You two aren't together, are you?"

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens fic #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian #ikigai #the inevitability of love at second sight #fanfiction #my writings #jolly karlsson

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mysticmousecat · 2 years

Text

Something New - Part 4 - Viktor x F!Reader (NSFW)

It feels good to sin again

Rating: Explicit

Words: 6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Unprotected sex

Synopsis: Jayce let's Viktor in on a few secrets and Viktor decides to do something about it

Author's Notes: I rewrote this chapter no less than 4 times so I hope you guys like it. Its basically just an excuse to write a really long really explicit sex scene to finish out this fic. Enjoy!

Viktor watched as you walked away, his gaze perhaps lingering a little too long on the curve of your back, the tired slope of your shoulders, cascading down the length of your legs exposed by your short sleep shorts. Thoughts filled his mind of what could have been happening before he arrived, what you had been letting Jayce do to you. Had you let him touch you, caress you, surely something along those lines. His mind was invaded by images of his partner, practically his brother, laying his best friend down, fucking her the way Viktor knew he’d more than likely never be able to. Viktor felt the familiar burn of jealously in his throat, a feeling he’d grown accustomed to over the years, each time you’d take a new lover, the ache in his chest at the sight of you in another’s arms had become a familiar companion. He’d never thought he’d have that feeling because of Jayce though, he thought Jayce would have the decency to know what was off limits, especially considering the man was sure to be aware of Viktor’s own feelings toward you. The burn of jealously soon turned into the burn of anger, he felt the ache in his jaw from clenching it too hard as he watched you turn the corner, in the direction of your own apartment.

“Viktor?” Viktor was pulled from his thoughts at Jayce’s voice, who was still leaning against his door frame, waiting for Viktor to enter his home. Viktor was half tempted to turn around and leave, go back to his room and spend the night alone, as he typically did, but he also had the sense to know when he was being unreasonable. He hadn’t even asked Jayce about it, if he threw a tantrum at the thought of Jayce sleeping with you, he’d be no better than a spoiled child. So instead, he simply walked past Jayce, into his apartment.

Viktor had been in Jayce’s apartment hundreds of times, sometimes for days at a time, it was familiar, but right now it seemed so foreign, the thoughts of you being in here, of being held by Jayce, of being touched by him, fucked by him, perhaps on the couch next to where Viktor stood, or maybe the bedroom, which he had easy view of, or if you two were particularly adventurous, perhaps the kitchen table. Did Mel know? Did she join in? Were you engaging in a throuple? The burn was back, and Viktor shut his eyes to steel himself. ‘Don’t be a child’ he repeated to himself, like a mantra.

“Viktor, you okay?” Jayce’s voice once again broke him of Viktor’s train of thought, instead turning to meet the eyes of his partner, who looked concerned, but there was something else in his eyes, something Viktor could only akin to... amusement. Why would Jayce be so amused at Viktor’s obvious distress? That’s exactly what it was. Viktor was well aware he was not being subtle, and Jayce knew him too well.

“Perfectly fine,” Viktor said curtly before turning his attention to the black board Jayce kept in his living room. “Shall we get to work?” Without waiting for Jayce’s response, Viktor made his way over to the stack of books and research papers sat precariously on the small table near the black board, one wrong move and they’d come tumbling down.

“You just seem... bothered.” Jayce continued. Viktor didn’t look up as he skimmed through the notes on the table, looking for where he’d left off last time he was here.

“I’m not bothered at all.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” Jayce just hummed as Viktor finally found his place, looking up at the board to match his notes. He could hear Jayce moving around the room, settling somewhere directly behind him.

“So, you’re going to sit there and tell me,” Jayce started, a certain lilt in his voice. “That seeing (y/n) leave here in such a state had no effect on you?” Viktor swallowed hard, hand gripping his pen so hard he was concerned he’d snap it in half. What was Jayce playing at?

“(y/n) is a grown woman and the two of you are consenting adults, it is no business of mine who’s bed she occupies,” Viktor spoke. His voice was clinical, nearly robotic as he said the words, using every ounce of his will power to maintain his composure. “I just hope Mel is aware of your... activities.” Jayce as silent for a moment, and Viktor was about to go back to his work.

“You’ve gotten very good at pretending you don’t care.” Jayce’s voice cut Viktor’s concentration like a cord.

“Because” Viktor said, possibly more aggressively than needed. “I don-”

“(y/n) and I aren’t sleeping together.” Jayce interrupted him; Viktor’s entire being came to a complete stop. What?

“Then what wa-”

“A cleverly constructed, and quite masterfully executed if I do say so myself, rouse.” Viktor stood shell shocked, finally turning to stare at his friend, mind having difficulty making sense of what he was hearing. “I wanted you to think I was sleeping with (y/n), and from the way you’re looking at me right now, it seems I did a pretty damn good job.”

Viktor was speechless for a moment, searching Jayce’s face for any sign that the other man may be lying. “Why?” Was all he asked.

“Why did I spend two weeks making you believe I was fucking your best friend?” Jayce clarified on Viktor’s behalf, Jayce’s words putting an uncomfortable rock in Viktor’s chest. “It’s pretty simple actually.”

“Then explain, Jayce.” Viktor felt the fire of irritation stir in him. Jayce purposely put Viktor through weeks of torture, making him believe he was fucking you, taking you to bed and then flaunting it in front of the man he knew was in love with you. Jayce’s features softened at Viktor’s words, a more serious tone taking over him.

“Viktor,” Jayce started. “We need to talk about Angela.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to bed after running into Viktor, you didn’t even go to your apartment. Instead, you found yourself wandering the halls of the academy, to which the night security has become all too accustomed to seeing you do. You pulled your cardigan tighter around you as you walked, occasionally turning to look out at the Piltovian landscape outside the windows. On nights like this, when you found yourself at the academy instead of your home, walking aimlessly until you eventually wore yourself out enough to sleep, you rarely ran into anyone else. Maybe a guard or two, who usually waved you off or gave you a short greeting before continuing their rounds, but rarely anyone else. It was nice. It was quiet and allowed you time to think, especially on particularly stressful nights. However, thinking was the last thing you wanted to be doing tonight. It seemed every time you blinked you were assaulted with images of Viktor with Angela, his hands on her, or maybe his lips on her neck, a touch so sinful but so gentle. It didn’t take you long to realize that this particular visit to the academy was going to be less than fruitful, but you were hesitant to go back to your apartment, where you knew it would be cold and empty, silent, at least here you occasionally saw another human.

Eventually though you did decide to go home. You were thankful there were no classes tomorrow, what little sleep you got tonight you hoped lasted into the late morning, lasted until the morning sunlight chased away the cold and the dark. You took the stairs as opposed to the elevator, maybe a little more walking would make you sleep, so you didn’t have to remain trapped inside your own mind again. You were sufficiently winded when you reached your floor, the chilled Piltovian air welcome against your heated skin. The hall to your door was hardly lit, most people expected to be asleep at this hour instead of traversing the halls in a heartache driven haze.

Your key slipped easily into your lock as you turned the handle, greeted by the light squeak of your door on its hinges. You didn’t bother turning on your lights, instead allowing what little moonlight filtered in through your windows to guide your way. You were tempted to make a cup of tea before bed, maybe it would settle your mind, as you were contemplating you actions you nearly jumped out of your skin at the voice that broke the silence.

“Took the scenic route, hm?” You spun on your heals, hand flying to clutch at your chest as you gazed into the darkness before you, eyes just barely managing to make out the silhouette of a man on your couch, he was a very familiar silhouette, tall, thin and lean, hair just a little too unkempt to be tidy, you couldn’t entirely make out his face, but you didn’t need to. Once you’d caught your breath, you finally found your words.

“Thought you would still be with Jayce, working the night away.” You said as you turned once again to make your way toward your kitchen. Now you were absolutely making tea. From across the room, you heard Viktor stand, the sound of his cane tapping the floor as he approached the kitchen. Despite the anxiety he gave you, the way he made your heart race, he also soothed you, knowing he was here and not with Angela.

“I tried to get some work done but found myself unable to focus.” Viktor explained as you started heating some water in a kettle on the stove. “I wanted to come see you.” You felt your heart pounding in your chest, an involuntary smile finding its way onto your lips at his words, then you felt the sickly-sweet feeling in your stomach, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them.

“Angela unavailable?” You heard the venom in your voice, despite how hard you tried to keep it at bay. It was quiet for a moment, and you thought that Viktor may not answer you. You heard the tap of his cane again, it was approaching you again, a hand finding your wrist, making you turn to face him before you were pulled into a hug. One that, while certainly accepted, confused you. Despite your confusion, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him, pulling him ever so much closer. His scent was so familiar, smoke and coffee with something you couldn’t pinpoint but was so undeniably Viktor, it made you lightheaded in the best of ways, made you want to hold him and never let him go. You buried your head in his chest easily.

“I am not interested in Angela.” Viktor said into your ear as he pressed himself closer to you. “She is a colleague, nothing more.” You didn’t say anything, just nestled deeper against him, kettle on the stove forgotten until the shrill scream of steam startled you away from him. You were quick to pull it from the burner, turning the stove off and resting your hands on the edge of the counter, hesitating to turn to face Viktor again.

“Jayce told you, didn’t he?” You spilled into the silence. You felt the tears creeping up on you, swallowing it hard as you waited for Viktor’s answer, still refusing to face him.

“Perhaps,” Viktor supplied. “What would he have told me, (y/n)?” He was trying to make you say it, say the words you’d told to everyone except the one person they pertained to. Finally, you turned, coming to face the man who was managing to break you down without even touching you. You tried to make out his face in the darkness, his golden eyes, his sharp features. He was perfectly silhouetted by the window behind him, he was beautiful. The words were crawling up your throat, but no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t say them, you were lost.

“I-“ You choked, closing your eyes before speaking again. “I don’t know how to do this, Viktor.” You confessed. Viktor was quiet, as if he were contemplating your words. Finally, as he started to approach you again, he spoke.

“Would you like me to start?” He asked, you just stared at him. “I am not blind, (y/n), I could see Angela’s… Interest.” Viktor started once he effectively had you crowded against your kitchen counter, hands on either side of your torso, gripping onto the edge. “And when she eventually offered me her bed,” You felt a tear fall down your cheek as you tried your hardest to find Viktor’s eyes in the darkness. “I almost accepted.”

“Why didn’t you?” You found yourself asking.

“Because she is not the woman I want,” His voice was whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he’d spook you. “I could never love her, because I’m already in love with someone else.” He stepped just a little bit closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, his body heat so close, you were tempted to reach out and touch, tangle you fingers in the fabric of his vest, you restrained yourself. “So, I’ll ask again. What would Jayce have told me?” This time, when the words crawled up your throat, they were unhindered. They fell from your lips easily, albeit whispered, barely a breath.

“I love you.” You finally said, and you felt heat burst through your chest, through your veins like hot magma, gripping the countertop behind you in an effort to maintain your composure. Viktor was quiet for only a moment before he spoke again.

“Was that so hard?” You wanted to retort, to snap at him and tell him that yes, it had indeed been that hard, but you didn’t get the chance before you felt his lips press to yours, a kiss that all in all was chaste, but left you breathless. Even when Viktor pulled away, he didn’t stray far, close enough for his lips to barely graze your own as he spoke. “I love you; I have always loved you and I always will… If you’ll have me.” If you’ll have him? As if you’d have anyone else. This time when you kissed him you didn’t hold back, allowing your hand to find his vest and pull him closer, the kiss was hungry, desperate, and eager. Viktor’s hands went from the countertop to your waist to your hips as he pulled you flush against him as he moved to deepen the kiss, the first touch of his tongue to yours sent sparks up your spine and put heat in your abdomen. He kissed you like a man deprived of water and you were the spring that saved his life. Your hands found his hair, tangling in it and pulling, just enough to draw that same sound you’d heard before, the one that made you squeeze your thighs together. You pulled away from him, taking a moment to catch your breath.

“Let’s go.” You said as you took his hand, beginning to lead him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” He asked, though he followed you none the less.

You turned to face him again, this time able to see his face as the moonlight illuminated his features. You pulled him closer to you, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Bedroom.” Was all you said, and you swear you could hear the stall out in his brain as he caught up to where you were leading him. You suddenly felt shy. “Only if you want to of course.”

The words had barely left you before his mouth covered yours again, his kiss desperate and demanding as his hands came up to cradle your face. The two of you stumbled into your bedroom, barely having the thought to kick the door shut before you pushed Viktor to sit on your bed, crawling over him to straddle his hips, tangling your fingers into his hair as you reconnected your lips. How did you live without this for so long, live without knowing what he tasted like? You let him pull off your cardigan, tossing it somewhere in the darkness of the room, his hands finding your bare shoulders, gliding his fingertips down your arms before traveling back up again, only for him to glide his hands down your back, finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer, hissing into the kiss when you ground down on his growing erection. You broke the kiss, instead opting to kiss down his throat, paying special attention to his pulse point, where you felt his heart pounding.

Your fingers found the buttons of his vest, taking special care when undoing them, pulling the fabric from his shoulders easily, allowing it to join your cardigan on the floor before moving to his tie, which found itself on the floor as well shortly after. You rolled your hips into his again, moaning into his mouth when you reconnected your lips. You practically ripped open his dress shirt to get at his skin, leaving the garment on him but open, dragging your fingers down his now bare chest, stopping only when you reached his belt. You knew what you wanted, you wanted to make this man fall apart, worship his body until he was shaking, trembling under your touch, you wanted to hear every sound he could make. Without a word you separated your lips again, moving from his lap so he could move further up the bed, laying against your headboard as you crawled up to join him, settling easily between his legs. You placed a searing kiss to his collar bone, nipping at the skin there lightly before traveling south, leaving marks and kisses down his chest, pulling contented sighs from him above you, one of his hands finding its way into your hair, tugging just enough to pull the slightest moan from your throat.

“I never considered you’d like your hair pulled.” Viktor said breathily as you continued your descent down his torso until you finally reached the waistband of his pants where you stopped to look up at him. His eyes were full of want and lust, much like you imagined yours were too.

“Says you.” You said, as you got to work ridding him of his belt. “Do you have any idea what you did to me that day in the lab?” You asked, popping the button of his pants open, Viktor lifted his hips ever so slightly to help you pull them down, hearing his contented sigh when you finally freed his cock. You stared at him for a moment, heat pooling in your belly at the sheer size of him. Had you known he was this big before, you were sure you would have offered to go to bed with him much sooner. Your eyes found his again as your fingers wrapped around his base, pulling a hiss from his lips. “I nearly dropped to my knees right there, and I would have, had I known you wanted me to.” With that you set to work, licking a long strip from his base to his tip and you heard the back of his head collide with the wooden headboard of your bed.

“I would not have lasted long had you done that.” His hand tightened in your hair, like he was holding himself back from shoving his cock down your throat. An idea to explore later. You placed a chaste kiss to his tip before wrapping your lips around it, flattening your tongue to it before taking more. Realistically you could only fit about half of him in your mouth before you would gag, but you made up for what you couldn’t fit with your hand, pumping him in tune with the bobbing of your head. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked hard, savoring the sweet gasp he let out above you as his hand tightened further, pulling your hair roughly. You moaned on his cock, which in turn only egged him on. You could feel his self-restrain, trying hard not to thrust into your mouth, you mentally thanked him for his self-control. You sped up your pace, taking him a little deeper on every downward stroke before you reached your limit. Some time you wanted to do this until he came, wanted to beg him to cum in your mouth, taste him, pull him apart completely with your tongue, but for tonight, you needed to keep yourself under control, you didn’t want this ending too soon.

He was getting close, you could feel it in the way he gripped you, the way his breathing came out ragged above you and his hips twitched the barest amount forward. You pulled your mouth off of him, though continued to pump him with your hand as you flattened your tongue against his tip, tasting the precum there. You moaned at the taste, the wetness between your legs growing, and the need to have him inside of you overwhelming. You pulled your hand away from him, much to his disappointment before climbing your way back up him again, once again straddling his hips as you kissed him. His tongue tangled with yours almost immediately as his hands shot under your shirt, wasting no time in hiking it over your arms and off of you, tossing it half hazardly across the room before his mouth moved from your lips to your neck, his hands on your bare waist pulling your flush against him, the bare skin of his chest pressing against your own. He kissed his way down your throat, nipping at the skin between your neck and shoulder, pulling a hushed gasp form your lips.

“You know,” Viktor started as he kissed your skin, hands moving from your waist to your chest, his callused fingers grazing over your nipples, the softest moan falling from your lips as you pressed into his touch. “Every time you wear one of those damn skirts into the lab, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to slip my hand underneath.” You moaned at the thought of it, being in the lab, a work environment while Viktor comes up to you, his hand finding its way between your legs. At his confession one of his hands abandoned your chest, choosing instead to glide down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. He seemed to linger there, fingers playing with the fabric, not quite dipping underneath. “And had I known you would have let me,” Viktor purred in your ear. “I would have made sure you never had to worry about Angela.” You let out a shaky breath as he finally delved past the waistband, his fingers grazing over your core, only separated by the fabric of your underwear. You couldn’t help the way your hips thrust forward slightly, seeking more of his touch. Viktor let out a heavy breath at how wet he could feel you were, choosing to press tight circles over your covered clit, pulling a strangled moan from your lips.

“Viktor-“ You choked out, suddenly feeling shy despite the fact that not five minutes ago you had your mouth on his cock, which you could still feel, hot and heavy against the skin of your thigh.

“Tell me,” Viktor started, his pace was even, unhurried as he worked to pull every gasp and moan from your lips, but never going to pull the fabric of your underwear aside to really touch you. “Do you get this wet for me often?” He asked, punctuating the question by slipping his fingers down, pressing up into where he knew your entrance was, pushing in as far as your underwear would allow his fingers. He halted, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts, finding a moment of clarity to answer.

“Yes.” You breathed into his ear, feeling the way his other hand gripped your hip tight. “Every time you touch me, sometimes,” You gasped as he moved back to your clit, pressing a little harder to pull the whine from you. “Sometimes, just hearing your voice is enough to have me soaked.” You confessed. Had you been more lucid you’re sure you would have been embarrassed at admitting something like that, but right now, your only focus was getting him inside of you as fast as possible.

He pulled his hand from you, you were about to complain if he didn’t immediately move to pulling your shorts down your hips, you maneuvered to help get them off of you, the fabric finding itself on the floor with the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare to him. Viktor seemed to take a moment just to touch you, glide his hands flat over the outside of your thighs, up over your hips to your waist, then back down again, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” Viktor whispered into your ear as his hands found the back of your thighs, pulling you forward slightly while also spreading your legs just a little more, the head of his cock just barely grazing your entrance, making you gasp.

“I wish I had noticed your feelings sooner,” You said, pressing a chaste but passionate kiss to his lips. “Wish I had realized my feelings sooner.” You kissed over his jaw, down his neck to his shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside to place a searing kiss to his clavicle.

“What made you?” Viktor asked breathily into your ear. “Realize your feelings that is.”

“You really want to know?” You asked as you kissed your way back up to just under his ear.

“Yes.”

“I had a sex dream about you.” You said bluntly. “A couple of days after I arrived in Piltover.”

“So, you mean to tell me,” Viktor started as his hand once again found its way between your legs, this time unhindered by the presence of your underwear as he sunk one finger deep into you, making you squeak in surprise at the sudden intrusion, which then turned into a moan as he started thrusting in and out before adding a second finger. “That we could have been doing this,” He punctuated the word with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, curling them in a come-hither motion, hitting every spot inside you perfectly, as if he’d done it a million times. “Months ago.” You could only respond in a broken moan as you wrapped your arms around his neck as you moved your hips along with his fingers. He should not be this good at taking you apart on your first time together, it wasn’t fair.

“Seems,” You gasped when Viktor added a third finger, expertly stretching your entrance to take him. “Like we have lots of time to make up for.” You felt him smile into your hair as his fingers sped up, hitting your perfect spots dead on every time, pulling you closer and closer to the edge as the movement of your hips became more erratic. You hadn’t even had his cock yet and here you were, desperately trying to get more of his fingers into you, get them deeper as he somehow managed to fuck you so perfectly with just his hand. Viktor had never told you about sexual partners in the letters you would share, but obviously he had them, because these were not the skills of an unexperienced man.

He didn’t slow down even as you teetered on the edge, he let you fall, your first orgasm of the night wracking through you as you clung to him, tangling your fingers in his hair and burying your face in his neck as you muffled a moan against his skin, his fingers didn’t stop until you were reaching down to grab his wrist, stilling him inside of you, allowing you to catch your breath. He placed a kiss into your hair, pulling his fingers out of you and pulling you close, pressing your chest flush against his.

“You cum beautifully.” He said into your ear. You shivered at his words, lifting your head to look him in the eye. When you kissed him, it was slow, passionate and hungry. “I bet it will be even more beautiful when you’re cumming on my cock.” The words alone made you moan. You were on auto pilot as you wrapped your fingers around him, pumping him slowly as you lined him up with your entrance. You both moaned in unison as you sank down onto him, feeling the way he filled you so perfectly, stretched you a little wider than his fingers had, but filled you so much deeper. You felt the breath leave your lungs as you reached his hips. He fit you perfectly, like he was made to be inside you. Once you found your bearings and you’d given him time to adjust to your tightness, you placed your hands on his shoulders, bracing yourself as you placed another kiss to his lips, the kiss devolving into a moan as you lifted yourself almost all the way off of him before dropping back down, gasping at the way his cock forced the air out of your lungs every time you dropped back down onto it. His grip on your hips was brutal, tight enough to leave bruises as he started guiding your movements, thrusting his hips up to meet you halfway, his own gentle gasps and moans buried into your hair as he held you. It wasn’t long before you began to feel the burn in your legs and hips, the position you were in starting to become difficult.

“Wait.” You breathed as you slowed down, catching your breath as Viktor’s fingers grazed up and down your sides. “Lay down.” You ordered, slowly pulling yourself up and off of him, if you weren’t so worked up you may have been more embarrassed over the whine that left you at the loss of him inside of you. Viktor fallowed your command, taking a moment to properly shed his shirt, tossing it to the side as you used his new position to properly get his pants off, tossing them to join the growing pile of clothing. It left him bare to you, his fair skin, pulled tight over his lean body, able to finally see the full augmentation of his leg, gliding your fingertips over the warm metal.

“Can you still feel touch?” You asked, pressing a kiss to the metal of his thigh before once again throwing one of your legs over his waist, getting yourself into position to take him again. His hands once again came to your hips.

“Yes.” He gasped out as you sunk back down onto his cock, taking him faster than you had the first time, letting out a moan of your own at the sudden intrusion. “But it’s different.” You hummed, planting your hands flat on his chest as you began moving your hips again, having much more control of your movements in this position, the painful burn in your hips fading as he thrust up into you, pushing just a little deeper into you than he had the first time. He hit every spot inside you perfectly in this position, pulling desperate whines and moans from your lips on every move. You were approaching your release fast now as you roughly slammed yourself down on his cock over and over. You moved your hands from his chest to the bed on either side of his head, leaning down to connect your lips again, though it was less of a kiss and more just gasping into each other’s space, the occasional press of lips, a graze of tongues as he wrapped his arms around your torso, holding your close as your movements became more erratic, your orgasm rushing up on you as he hit that perfect spot inside of you over and over along with the stimulation to you clit that the position provided.

You found yourself chanting his name like a mantra as you gripped the sheets under your hands so tight you worried they might tear. He thrust up into you roughly, his own movements becoming unsteady and erratic as his own release approached. Before you could register it, your orgasm crashed into you, your body tensing as a wave of pleasure washed over you, pulling a strangled gasp from your lips. Viktor’s rhythm stuttered as you tightened around him, a breathy moan falling from his lips as he pulled your body closer, thrusting up into you a few more times before his own release came, cumming deep inside of you, the feel of his release inside of you pulling another moan from your lips as you buried your face in his neck, his hands moving to stroke soothing circles over your back as the two of you caught your breath.

You pulled yourself up and off of his softening cock, dropping down to lay next to him, letting the thin layer of sweat on your skin cool. Turning onto your side you moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm came around to pull you into him, fingers grazing over your bare arm as you listened the rapid pace of his heart. It was quiet for a moment while the two of you just laid there, finally processing what had just happened. The realization hit you like a train. Viktor wasn’t interested in Angela, he was interested in you, had always been interested in you and not only did he love you too, but he just gave you the best fuck of your life. You let that sink in for a moment. Your childhood best friend, a man you’ve known for 25 years, and you just had sex with him, and you wanted to do it again.

“You think very loudly.” Viktor’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He still sounded a little winded and you couldn’t help the little burst of pride and arousal that flowed through you at the fact that you caused him to sound like that. “Care to share with the class?” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest, then another to his neck.

“Just thinking about how we got here,” You said when Viktor turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours before you pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss.

“I used to think we’d never get here.” He confessed when the two of you parted, his voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand as you sat up on your elbow, other hand resting on Viktor’s bare chest, tracing random patterns into his skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He retorted.

“Touché.” You kissed him again, just a press of lips. “I love you.” You breathed once you’d pulled back.

“I love you, too.” It was silent for a moment before a though came to mind, bringing a smile to you lips. “What?” Viktor asked. It was a smile he knew well, one that he’d seen plenty of times and usually came before you told him of an idea you had. You met his eyes, a mischievous glint in yours.

“What are your thoughts on shower sex?” You asked, already starting to get up. While Viktor watched you slide off the bed, walking over to your ensuite bathroom, turning on the water, he couldn’t help but think that he should really send Jayce a gift basket or something, even if his methods of getting the ball rolling between the two of you had been… eccentric.

#arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane #league of legends #viktor #viktor arcane #arcane x reader #lol #viktor league of legends #arcane netflix #lol viktor #viktor lol #jayce talis

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strwbrryblues · 2 years

Text

Musing Confessions

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, College AU, Rommate AU, Art students!Hyunjin and reader, Friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Suggestive content, implied smut (?)

A/N: I wasn't originally planning for a second part, but I also wanted to write a second part lmao 🥴💀

This part 2 is dedicated to @leeknowrecord who made a request last time to have a second part of Muse 🤧💗 Here you go sweetie, thank you for requesting and sorry for having to ponder this long about it too 😭 I hope you enjoy it 🥺💗

Also just a reminder, this is an optional read, both fics can be independent on their own as there is really not much of a deep plot behind this.

Muse (First part; optional read)

Hyunjin woke up, body heavily sore at his every moves, as if he’d just done a triathlon the whole day. His eyes squinting to make out of his room, but it’s as dark as closing your eyes. The only ever visible light, was the one outside the hallway, that he forgot to shut off before bed.

Trying to get back his thoughts again, he was suddenly slapped with the realization of the events from last night. He swore if he was a block of ice, he would have melted right this instant out of embarrassment.

Oh God. I just fucked my roommate slash best friend.

And then a flash of the scene from last night, him repeatedly coming inside you as if he was trying to make sure you’re bred within every nooks and crannies of your being.

RAW!

Hyunjin wanted to slam his head to the nearest wall and have the ground swallow him. He repeatedly chanted in his brain, “stupid Hyunjin,” at how careless he’d been. What if your weren’t on birth control? He could’ve at least worn protection!

The tall boy was panicking until he felt the slight shift in his bed right beside him. He turned to see you all wrapped up warmly in his thick blanket. From the looks of it, he made out your form to be bare and still void of clothes from the piece of skin your shoulder showed, despite the darkness. And Hyunjin knew you as the kind of person to sleep all swallowed up large clothing.

Something inside his stomach fluttered at the sight of your sleeping form, right next to him. But since the realization of you still undressed, meant that the two of you passed out like lightbulbs after the exhilarating activities. And it meant that his essence was still very much inside of you.

Hyunjin gulped at the thought, growing a semi that he felt quickly due to the lack of clothing. But he tried—really tried—to ignore it. He first had to clean up both of you, as it can be uncomfortable for you.

And so he left the bed, very carefully, picking up two sets of clothes from his cabinet, before going to the bathroom to freshen up. There, he took a half bath, then having his lower bed wrapped with a towel, he took another towel—a smaller one—along with a small basin of water.

When he came back to the room, he found you still sleep. With quiet steps, he approached your sleeping form.

Slowly, he unwrapped the blanket from you, but not completely. He left your lower half covered, starting to clean up the upper part of your body with the damp towel he'd occasionally rinse in the small basin of water.

After finishing the first half of your body, he covered you again, shuffling to the bathroom to clean the towel and replace the water from the basin. Doing so, he then went back to his room, now uncovering your lower half. And he prayed hard that you’ll forgive him for having to touch all over your body without your consent, especially when he would try to remove the remains of his essence…with his fingers.

All the while when he was cleaning you gently, he tried his best not to get hard—despite his semi—in respect of you. And he almost succeeded, if only you hadn’t moaned.

Hyunjin swore his face exploded from the heat. He finished up quickly—thankful you hadn’t woken up despite his movements—covering you up with the blanket to avoid you getting cold.

And then he ran to the bathroom. Removing the towel he thankfully haven’t removed yet. And he finally untangled it from his body, he quickly stoked—hard and fast—because he wanted to finish and be over with this embarrassment and shame of growing hard for you in your sleep.

When he released, he hopped in the shower once more. And there, he spent his 15 minutes of having an existential crisis.

When he finally calmed down, he dressed up quickly, remembering that you still laid bare in his bed. Then, he walked back to where you were still so soundlessly asleep. He gently sat you up, wallowing you in his favorite warm sweater. Picking up a sweats he’d grown out of, but still large for you, he also gently slipped it over you. Tugging on the strings to tighten it around your waist as you were smaller than him.

He took a good look at your form; small and fragile, and he almost felt the need to bang his head on the wall at the thought of not being more gentle with you. And then he noticed the mess that was his bed.

Stains. Everywhere.

Hyunjin would’ve gotten hard at that thought of having both your mess everywhere, but he really felt disgusted. He felt every nerve in his body react, almost as if wanting him to hurl out the dinner he didn’t have. And you were laying there. All clean, among the mess. He internally cringed, wanting you out of there.

So, with the thought of giving you more comfort, he carried you bridal style, very slowly and gently. Then he walked to the direction of your room, where he entered and laid you down. Making sure you were tucked in and warm.

He went back to his room, up and running around to clean up everything so he’d have a sleeping spot for the next night, because he figured he’d be staying up for the rest of the night. Pondering and figuring things out for when you wake up.

-----

You woke up to the light blaring on your eyes, making you groan, but you haven’t made the decision to move just yet. Your eyes squinting, trying to make out of the place, only to see you back in your room.

You almost felt disappointed, thinking that the night's occurrence was but a fragment of your dreams, until you felt pain jolt you from your accidental shift. You were quick to look down at yourself, seeing as you weren’t naked, but you weren’t wearing the clothes you wore when you brought a mug of hot chocolate to Hyunjin last night.

So it wasn’t a dream after all.

You flushed in embarrassment, about to let out a squeal, when your room door creaking open, revealing the tall boy, looking at you very gently and softly.

“Hey,” he started, “you’re finally awake.” He hesitated entering your room, but did so nonetheless, however, in a slow manner. “How are you feeling?” He asked, not finding it in his self to sit down.

“Sore,” you looked away sheepishly. At your reply, Hyunjin groaned, and it made you feel nervous, thinking he regretted last night, and that he was now annoyed at you.

But when you looked up to see his reaction, he seemed to be beating himself up, muttering cusses here and there before approaching your side of the bed and finally sitting down.

“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have done that.” He took one of your hands in his, but it made you think again if he regrets last night.

“Do you…do you regret it?” You asked, looking hopefully into his eyes, begging that he didn’t because you surely did not.

When he heard the question, he was quick to make eye contact with you, as if horrified at your question—which he is. “No! Oh God, no!” He almost looked offended, that it made you chuckle. “I just regret not being careful. I literally bred you,” at that you both flushed and Hyunjin wanted to disintegrate right then and there.

“I took the shot,” you whispered, looking away shyly. Hyunjin heaved a sigh of relief, but also stopped himself from almost getting a hard on from the thought of spilling everything inside you again—if his confession even goes well. Only then did he realize and found out his kink, and he had to literally slap himself not just mentally.

“I—I’ve been pondering since last night,” he spoke after the silence, which garnered your attention.

You looked at him, and only then did you notice the bags under his eyes that formed. Pondering may have been an understatement.

“I wanted to tell you how I fell…for you..” He was still fiddling with your finger, nervousness obvious and it was passed onto you with how he’s suddenly confessing out of the blue. “It’s…I don’t even know when it started, but it’s there. Last night, I was really happy, but I also felt guilty for having to take advantage of you, without knowing if you even have feelings for me.”

You wanted to speak up, telling him you weren’t taken advantage of, as you made the decision as well. But Hyunjin spoke up again.

“I was actually ready to give you my all, if ever you weren’t on birth control…” He was shy, but you sensed his sincerity and it made your heart soar with all the happiness. He was ready to be there for you.

And Hyunjin really was ready…kind of.

Because last night after settling you in bed, and getting to work on cleaning the sheets of his bed, going as far as doing the laundry for it, along with both your clothes that was still strewn on the floor. Hyunjin thought and thought of numerous scenarios, from worst, to the best. And he was thinking of even taking numerous jobs just to raise you and your baby—if you ever were not on the pill. He knew both you and him would be prejudiced for it, not to mention, your parents’ disappointment. But he was ready to be there for you, even if your paths will be rocky, especially being an undergraduate.

“Even if you’re on birth control, of course I will still care for you. And I’ll be there for you. I just wanted to let you know that.” He said, all shyness left, only honesty, and his unadulterated love for you.

“I want to know how you feel too, but I won’t pressure you.” He smiled sadly, giving your hand a squeeze, anxiety getting ahead of him, making him think that you hate him.

But the tone of reassurance, as well as love as you spoke, cleared it all away for him. “I feel the same way…” You said, squeezing back, his hand in both of yours. “I actually did have feelings for you since we met.”

Elated, Hyunjin was feeling more than just that. And he wanted to just dance around with you, in utter joy. But he knew you were still tired. Settling for the best decision, he asked, “is it okay if I kiss you right now?”

You didn’t need to answer, only pulling him by his shirt to give him what he wanted. What you wanted.

The kiss was chaste; it was pure. It wasn’t like last night’s kiss, where you were promised an endless pleasure. The kiss made you feel loved for who you were, and you felt his warm intentions. It’s crazy, you almost felt his thoughts from last night.

And when you both pulled away, both your cheeks danced with the baby pink tint. Your eyes shined like you held the galaxies in them, and Hyunjin knew he was more than just smitten for you.

Stealing a peck from you, he leaned back finally as he spoke, “you’re still sore, so I guess we’ll have breakfast in bed?” He giggled, very childishly as if he was being tickled, and it made your nose scrunch in adoration for him and his whole being.

“That would be lovely.” You replied, quite content with everything right now.

“I’ll be back with you food, my princess.” He stood up, bowing as he took your hand in his, kissing the back of your hand.

“Try not to burn down our kitchen, yeah?” You teased, which earned you a groan from Hyunjin as he walked to the kitchen.

You were about to sink deeper into your bed, with a silly smile plastered on your face, but then Hyunjin peeked his head on the door frame, “we’re… official, right?” He asked, looking unsure as he nervously laughed.

You almost cackled at how cute he was, but answered anyway, “of course, my prince.” You swore you almost saw fireworks in his eyes, at he obvious joy and celebration written on his face. He muttered, “perfect” while skipping down the hallway, and you heard him happily singing to himself.

You agreed, everything was perfect, and you couldn’t find any more reason, especially not when you were this content with everything.

#stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin fluff

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kirishoshego · 3 years

Text

Confidental Composition//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY !!!

This is the first part of my little 'Teachers Pet Series' (I will add the link once I got all parts covered and the right ideas).

Summary: A simple task fucked up late at night as you send the wrong version of a piece of homework to your English literature teacher Mister Bakugo. Of course, he would want to see you after class the next day. But not for the reasons you might think. Pairing: Docent!Bakugo x afab!student!y/n // Words: 4.2k+ Side note: Insert a friend or random name you want for X :)

TW: nsfw: slow burn (sorry), spanking with a ruler, hair pulling, being bend over a desk, calling him sir, spitting, choking, dirty talk, degrading, slight praise

„Write an essay about the worst description of a woman or coitus. In the essay, explain why it is bad and then rewrite it. At least 30 pages, max. 60 pages (sources and any other extras you please to include, excluded). Due Date: 8 weeks from now on, 35% worth of your end grade. Questions can be asked per E-Mail, or, if you must, I’m free every Wednesday afternoon for meetings strictly for this essay and this essay only.“

A sigh left your lips as you starred at the piece of paper for the tenth time today ever since he handed it out to you and your classmates. The options you had were endless, you knew so many bad pieces about both topics and could write more than 100 pages about them as well. Everyone in class you talked to had decided on their topic already, some were even further. It was X who told you to just write the topics on a piece of paper and let fate do its work.

Black ink on a badly ripped blue note decided that you were going to write about a sex scene. Just now that you thought about it, rewriting something like that for your professor to read was an awfully stupid idea, yet you decided to listen to a small piece of paper.

At first, you were going to go with Fifty Shades of Grey but you felt like the choice was chewed up and spat out. It took you three days to finally decide on a book and once you settled there was no turning back. Considering your ignited interest in this topic you weren’t surprised when you were done within the first four weeks. Knowing the editing is going to take another week, maybe even a week and a half, you decided to take a small break, just one or two days off. On your second day, you decided to visit the new coffee shop that had just opened up around the corner.

Never had you expected to see your professor near your living spot. You were about to greet him when you noticed his pissed-off expression on his face and only now did you spot the woman behind him. She grabbed his arm and made him turn on the relatively small and empty street.

„Suki you can’t be serious,“ she was angry and hurt, while he seemed to be angry and annoyed. Not much of a difference than to how you see him on the daily, to be honest. „Are you fucking stupid? Of course, I’m fucking god damn serious. It was your choice to cheat on me and now I choose to throw you on the streets where you apparently belong, go ask one of your little boy toys to take you in for all I care,“ you were frozen in place, not entirely sure what to do. Right now your eyes were glued on his chest that was clad in a tight, black pullover, rising up and down heavily as his nostrils were flared caused by his anger. „Because you gave me no choice! If you like that sort of weird, rough shit then paddle your own canoe! I need something soft and tender-,“ before she could finish her sentence he laughed. Cold and slightly maniac in a way.

„Then get some fucking chicken! If you don’t like how I’m in bed then break up with me and piss off but don’t send my best friend a nude to ask him to come over. Even a ten-year-old would see how stupid that is,“at that moment your eyes met. His eyebrows were furled together, red eyes expression furry and disgust. Blond hair usually styled like he was going to be on the cover of Vogue, like he had been before, now slightly messy. Plump lips slightly apart to let his teeth shine through slightly before wetting them with his tongue. Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were doing you waved at him, making him cock his eyebrows in confusion for a second before noticing it was you who he was looking at. Turning on your heels you walked past busy crowds of people as you walked back home, trying to understand what you had just seen and why your angry professor had turned you on more than anyone had done before.

It was a stupid idea to ditch the next teaching unit of his but you had absolutely no clue how you were going to look at him. You knew teachers had a private life themselves, but never would you have guessed that you would run into one of them in your small area. As far as you knew he lived across town according to the very, very few private stories he had shared in magazines.

„Dear Professor,

down below is my finished project as an attachment in form of a PDF. I know you request it to be printed as well and I had planned to hand it in today, but sadly I came down with the flu. I’m looking forward to attending your next unit in the following week.

Have a nice week,

Y/N Y/L/N“

Maybe he had forgotten that you were there already and you were worrying too much about it. You were his student, nothing more, nothing less. Bakugo could care less about you, right? The flu did go around a lot right now, so it wouldn’t be completely unthinkable that you were sick. Itching eyes signaled you that it was time to go to bed now, so you closed your laptop and went to bed, not knowing what the next day will hold for you.

X had waited for you at the main entrance the next day to give you all the information you might need and ask why you weren’t there, considering it was obvious that you had the flu for one day only. At first, you were hesitant to explain what you had witnessed, it was messy already and you doubt Mister Bakugo would want the fight to go viral at his workplace. „Just one of those days you know? I had my mind completely full and felt like crap,“ that was the best excuse you could come up with, a white little lie that wouldn’t harm anyone. „Glad to see you’re doing- Oh, hello Professor,“ X smiled at someone behind you. There was no need to turn around to know who it was, the scent of his very expensive and extremely beguiling perfume clouding your mind. „Hello,“ his gruff voice greeted your friend shortly as you turned around, met with his muscular chest. You didn’t expect him to be so close to you, but here you were, tilting your head slightly as you looked up to him through your lashes, feeling not just your cheeks growing hot. „Good morning Sir,“ your voice sounded a lot more confident than you were feeling. Bakugo clenched his fist around the fake leather of his bag, his red eyes starring right into your soul as you had no chance of escaping whatever was going to happen next. „Miss Y/L/N, just the person I was looking for,“ fuck. „You were?“ X and you said at the same time, but your friend decided to excuse themself after a single glare from the older man. „How may I help you, Professor?“ You asked after swallowing down the anxious feeling that threatened to rise. „I received your Mail yesterday, with the PDF,“ okay, why did he search you just to tell you he got your assignment? Was it that bad? „But I’m relatively sure that it was the wrong one, considering I doubt that you want your teacher to know that 'this shit is so bad, but I wouldn’t mind being bent over a writing desk like that' with a smirking emoji at the end,“ only when his finger pushed your chin upwards gently you noticed that it was agape, shame filling every molecule in your body as you already planned your escape out of this country. Nobody was near you to see the weirdly intimidating scene happening between you and your teacher.

„Also I know you didn’t have the flu. I don’t appreciate being lied to. Tomorrow five p.m. in my office, don’t be late or you will get in more trouble. Send me the actual version tonight so I can grade it. I won’t let something as unprofessional as this slide again, understood?“ You nodded, taking in all of the information given to you, and somewhat in all of this mess felt thankful that he was giving you a second chance. The man in front of you rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, ordering you to speak up. „Yes Sir, thank you,“ you sounded more confident than you felt inside. „Good,“ was all Bakugo said before he turned around, leaving you behind in the big hall dumbfounded and confused… And horny.

As if Chronos himself felt immense joy in your misery, minutes appeared to be hours and the panic inside of you only grew the closer you came to five in the afternoon. You tried everything, watching a show, listening to podcasts and audiobooks, reading a book you had put of for so long, went outside, cooked something, worked on another assignment, stopped yourself from destroying your hair, made the phone call you so desperately had put off and it’s still only ten p.m on the same day. How was that even possible? As you laid in bed you tossed and turned, the thought of your really hot teacher all angry, breathing heavily, his hands roaming your body. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when those thoughts turned into a very lucid dream, but when you woke up in the morning, already an hour too late to your first period, all you wanted to do was scream into your pillow.

Considering first class is canceled, you wanna go grab breakfast? X texted you.

Canceled? Checking your mails you saw your teacher had sent out a mail, excusing themselves and explaining they came down with the flu. A blessing in disguise. You let X know that you would meet up at the building and go grab something near it. Once agreed, you took a quick shower, a moment of peace given to you as water hit your body. There was no way you could do anything between your last class and the meeting with Professor Bakugo, so you tried to look your best possible for the next upcoming hours.

Suddenly time flew by and the closer you got the more you begged for a little bit more time, for him to postpone it, anything. But no, here you were, five minutes early and looking around to spot the blond man with no luck. „Miss Y/L/N. Step inside,“ you jumped slightly as his voice boomed up behind you, not expecting him to be in the office already.

Once you walked inside you were stunned about how clean everything was, no matter where you looked it was neat. His books were sorted alphabetically with marks between them to let him know when a new letter began. As far as you could tell he used cherry wood for his pieces of furniture, a big, black carpet in a corner underneath a small seating area, and some books placed on the table. Even his paperwork was stacked in order. Big glass windows allowed the evening sun to fall into the room, its warmness kissing your skin while you were seated in front of him, a big writing desk between the two of you, on it your work.

It was quiet for a short moment, before he leaned back in his chair, red eyes mustering you up and down which didn’t help at all. „What would you like to talk about first? Your assignment or the fact that you lied to me?“ Why was he so bothered by your lie? You knew plenty of students calling in sick every once in a while even though they aren’t. „I apologize for both of it. It shouldn’t have happened and I learned from my mistake,“ you were hoping that it would ease his anger a little bit but he seemed more worked up than usual. „Although I don’t understand why you are so angry at me for it? Plenty students lie-,“ „Yes, but they aren’t stupid enough to make it so obvious,“ he interrupted you. „I could care less about who’s missing my class, it’s their fault in the end if they decide learning is unnecessary. However you are one of my top students, I expected better from you. You could have excused yourself with no explanation. But you chose to add the feeble lie about being sick for what?“

You took in a deep breath, feeling as if another lie would be caught immediate, so you had no other choice but to tell him the real reason: „I heard the fight you had with the woman you were with, in the café, and I didn’t know how to react when I see you in your class,“ there was a small moment where he looked honestly confused before something clicked in his brain. „So it was you who I saw. What did you hear?“ „I can’t really rem-,“ „One more lie and I will lose my temper, don’t test me,“ shit, why was he turning you on so much right now. He’s your teacher for god’s sake and angry at you, this wasn’t the right time. „That she doesn’t agree with certain things in your private life,“ „Like?“ he knew you tried to talk around it, yet he wanted you to talk about, to see you embarrassed again, he liked that look on you. „The way you fuck,“ it was said before your brain could even comprehend the words, another apology laying at the tip of your tongue but his next question cut you off before you could say something else. „Why were you there in the first place? I’ve been there a few times and never saw you or any other student,“ he explained. „Because I live close by?“ It sounded more defiantly than you had wanted, causing your opponent to cock his eyebrow.

„I feel like you’re forgetting who’s the authority figure here,“ he walked up to his door, locking it before coming back. Now he was right in front of you, slightly sitting on his desk and the sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up a little. „No sir, I’m sorry,“ „You see, the problem is, I don’t really believe you,“ with that he pulled you up, bodies pressed against each other, letting you feel his toned torso while the muscles in his arms flexed slightly.

„You lied to me once already, I think I have to teach you a lesson,“ everything happened so fast and you suddenly found yourself face down on his desk with his hand between your shoulder blades, the other one grabbing his wooden ruler. „If I recall correctly this is what you wanted right?“ His voice was low, slightly above a whisper as his upper body was pressed against your back while he pulled a few hair strands from your face. „Yes, but Professor I don’t think this is a good idea,“ your inner voice yelled at you, saying this was the best idea ever, angry that you possibly ruined your dreams coming true.

„Tell me to stop and I will do so immediately. Your choice. There will be no consequences if you worry about that,“ he reassured you, waiting for you to get up and run, but you didn’t and the current position allowed him to feel you clench your legs. „So?“ He asked again, the ruler in his hand basically burning with the anticipation of hitting your skin. „No, don't stop,“ you breathed, awaiting his next move.

„Good,“ with that he exposed your raised ass, your underwear the only thing between your bare skin and the wood that came down upon it, one foot raising in the air because of the sudden pain. „From now on if you say stop I won’t listen, you will tell me how you feel through colors. If it’s too much you tell me red and I will drop everything, understood?“ Another spank was delivered to the same spot.

„Yes,“ another one. You weren’t sure if he hit harder or if your skin turned more sensitive with every blow.

„It’s sir to you,“ you could feel him lunge out but shortly before the ruler came down he stoped, laughing slightly at your small jump.

„Yes sir,“ another one.

„You’re going to apologize every time my ruler paints your cute ass even redder, got it?“ You nodded your head, a moan escaping the back of your throat as he spanked you yet again.

„One more thing, be a good girl and stay quiet, wouldn’t wanna get caught now do we?“ He knew it was going to be torture for you to follow his order the more he continued and in a way he wanted you to fail. There was so much build-up inside of him and it appears that you were willing enough for him to use you as he pleased. That’s why you were his favorite. Bakugo knew what he was doing was wrong and he never expected to feel this way for one of his students but forbidden fruit tastes the best.

You stopped counting after the seventh blow, sorries, sirs and small whimpers fall from your lips as if they were your whole vocabulary. At one point you started crying, tears mixed with mascara running down your cheeks. He tried to remember something that turned him on more than the sight of your messed-up body with no luck. Everything build up inside of him, everything itching in his hands, the inner desires he had to soften for his ex, it all was going to come down on you. His thick girth twitched at the simple thought of finally being surrounded by your dripping wet cunt.

A warm soft hand rubbed over your bruised flesh while the other one found its way into your hair to pull you up to him, your back arched.

„What are you sorry for?“ Your mind was clouded with pleasure and pain, the only thought right now was the feeling of his dick print right between your sore cheeks. „I asked my little bitch a question, I expect you to fucking answer,“ this time he spanked you with his hand but it was just as intense as his ruler. „I don’t know,“ you breathed, a soft moan slipping out of you when his thumb barely circled your throbbing clit. „You’re just apologizing because you want me to use you?“ You could hear him chuckle lowly before he pushed your underwear to the side, his middle finger now playing with you. „Yes sir,“ Katsuki couldn’t hear a single ounce of shame in your voice and he wondered how long you had been thinking about him like this before.

„I never expected you to be such a dumb, cock hungry whore,“ The sound of his belt hitting the floor was dull like it was far away from you but at the same time, you felt him closer than before. Strong hands around your waist turned you around and once again he lifted your head with his finger underneath your chin, studying your ruined make-up as if he was memorizing every little detail he never wanted to forget. The blond, muscular man lifted you with ease, your behind getting a small moment of cooling as it hit his wooden desk.

Bakugo dried your tears slightly with his thumb, smearing it even more. „Only for you,“ you whispered and in that moment he couldn’t stop himself, he just had to kiss you. Not sweet and gentle, but passionately and hungry, like he was poisoned and your kiss was the antidote. The hand behind your head traveling to the front as you were laid down completely.

„If I had known before I would have fucked you so much sooner,“ with one hard thrust he was buried deep inside of you, one hand over your mouth because he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet and the other one around your throat, squeezing shut and watching you struggle against it slightly. Your professor was thicker than what you were used to and you didn’t know how good it would feel until now. With the first few snaps of his hips, you knew you never wanted to feel something else anymore.

Your hands went to his arms and you tugged on them, causing him to let go as the blood found its way back to your brain. „Color?“ he asked, afraid you weren’t able to handle him. „Green,“ was all you could get out before another moan cut off your ability to talk.

„Good girl,“ he whispered into your ear, kissing down from your earlobe to your shoulder before sucking on a rather sensitive spot. Both of your wrists were held over your head with his left hand, with the explanation that he doesn’t appreciate being stopped while using you however he pleased. The right hand was going from between your chest after he admired your bouncing tits thoroughly, to your stomach to connect with your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Bakugo switched from circles to eights, from fast to slow, but the harshness of his hips never haltered.

„I know you wanna scream right now, but I can’t allow that. Can’t let others hear what a dirty slut you are for me right now. I promise I will fuck you in my house if you behave now. You can moan my name as much as you want. Or maybe I will gag you, watch you drool all over yourself. Maybe I will tie you up and edge you for an hour straight until you’re begging me to fuck you, you like the sound of that, huh? I can feel you squeezing around me,“ another chuckle left his plump lips as he watched you struggle to stay up on your feet.

„Maybe I will let you choke on my dick while I work on something for the next lesson. Gonna use you as my little cum dump. Let you think about it again when I talk about it in front of the whole class. Do-,“ you were so close when a sudden knock on the door startled you both, but he never once stopped what he was doing, if anything he went even harder, whispering into your ear to be quiet for him.

„Hey Kat, your ex is outside and says she wants to talk, want me to send her in?“ It was the psychologist professor Shinso, his voice as done and deep as usual. „No, I’m occupied,“ Bakugo saw your mouth open after you fought so hard against it, he couldn’t let you moan, not right now. He did the first thing he could think of, spitting into it and watching you swallow. Oh, he would definitely film you do this with his cum covering you everywhere and the thought brought him slightly closer to his release. „Still grading papers huh? I don’t get where you got all of that energy from,“ his voice was blurred out by Bakugo whispering into your ear. „Do you want me to tell you what we're doing right now? Let him know I’m fucking my little toy stupid right now?“ And while you were shaking your head no it was the last straw for you and you found yourself grabbing his hand to put over your mouth, biting your lips until you tasted blood to muffle the scream you couldn’t stop. Bakugo cursed under his breath when he could feel you throbbing around his dick and your nails digging into his arm. „Tell her to leave me the fuck alone, she’s already forgotten,“ his voice sounded strained and you knew he was close as well. „Ah, I see. Well then have fun,“ his laugh was fading away the further he went.

„Can’t believe that made you cum, you’re even more perfect than I thought, such a dirty girl, tsk,“ both his hands are on your hips and he pulled your body against him with every thrust. You were still coming down from your orgasm when you felt his thrusts turning sloppy before he stopped completely, his dick now pulsing while he was holding you tightly. Breath uneven and getting stable on his feet again he turned you around, careful so he wouldn’t hurt you.

„Next time I gonna make sure you can’t walk but right now I need you to be able to leave the building,“ he pulled his pants back up and added: „Sadly,“ before walking around his desk.

It was still hard for you to stand so you sat down, wincing as the usually soft cushion now felt like thousand of tiny spikes on your bruised ass. Before you pull your bottoms up again he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, once again with a stern expression on his face you were so familiar with.

„I apparently really fucked you stupid if you think I let you leave like this,“ having him put cooling cream on your bare bum felt more intimate than having him be balls deep inside you. „Sorry I just thought-,“ „Well, you thought wrong. I don’t know what kind of boys you had in the past but now that you have me there are going to be changes, got that?“

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helaintoloki · 3 years

Text

Everybody Loves Somebody

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length

notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)

summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

Sunday

Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.

“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.

“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”

“What— A date? Yori—“

“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.

“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”

The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.

“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.

Monday

Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.

It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.

Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.

You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.

Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.

Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.

Tuesday

On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.

He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.

You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.

“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.

“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.

“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”

“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.

You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.

“She’s single, you know.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”

“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.

Wednesday

Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.

Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.

It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.

Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?

You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.

For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.

Thursday

“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”

The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.

“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.

“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”

“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”

“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”

Geez, where do I even begin?

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.

“No...”

“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”

“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”

The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.

“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”

“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.

“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”

“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.

Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.

“I just do.”

Friday

“Crap.”

The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.

Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.

“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”

Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.

Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.

“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”

“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.

“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”

“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?

“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”

“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.

“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.

“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.

“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.

Saturday

The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.

“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”

The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.

“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.

“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.

“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”

“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.

“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“

“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.

“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.

The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.

“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.

"What for?"

“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”

“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”

“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”

Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.

Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.

And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,” You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force. “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #female reader #monster romance #orc x reader #angst #orc

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mystery-star · 3 years

Text

Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not” he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock imagine #aos spock #imagine

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lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x female reader

Themes: SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you.

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him.

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days.

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you.

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way.

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it.

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well.

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions.

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

TRSOM

You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality.

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10: my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU

He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed.

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine.

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell.

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way.

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself.

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you.

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you.

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips.

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you.

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance.

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree.

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked.

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you.

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily.

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down.

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him.

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

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tricksters-captain · 3 years

Text

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment.

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks.

Your first front page piece for Chess Review.

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills.

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it.

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie.

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment.

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man.

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top.

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp.

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page.

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not.

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work.

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament.

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock.

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him.

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly.

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see).

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing.

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely.

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried.

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?”

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?” You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter.

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?”

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked.

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style.

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down.

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu.

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall.

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you.

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond.

You found yourself looking at the books again.

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call.

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick.

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!”

“It sounds awful.” You chuckled,

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m okay.” You lied.

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?”

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York.

“He did?!” Angie gasped.

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained.

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times.

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued.

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned.

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.”

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again.

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea.

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!”

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down.

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested.

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside.

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point.

There was a sudden knock at your door.

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be.

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again.

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door.

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there.

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts.

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Well, you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged.

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered.

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway.

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed.

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart.

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you.

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain.

“I––” He cut you short.

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke.

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race.

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.”

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs.

Benny fucking Watts.

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number.

“Bonjour?” She answered,

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.”

You ended up tossing and turning all night.

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again.

You finished it by the time the sun was rising.

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain.

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up.

You set up the board and stared at it.

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took.

You caved.

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying.

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk.

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you.

You thanked her then sighed.

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return.

Then you saw it.

Through a window of a small diner.

The famous black hat.

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat.

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes.

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully.

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.”

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth.

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table. “Let’s begin.”

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

Text

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

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