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florencemtrash · 9 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Three

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None that I can think of. Cassian, Azriel, and Y/n go to a romantic library

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“I. Can’t. Believe. It.” Cassian paced the floor in front of his brothers with his hands on his hips.

“I know.” Azriel said miserably.

“I can’t believe it.”

Rhysand smirked, leaning back on Az’s bed with his head propped up beneath his arm. They’d all been in shock leaving the Alcove. Even Helion had been uncharacteristically silent, contemplating what to do now that it looked like his daughter was mates with the Shadowsinger.

Upon return to the Sun Palace they’d found Azriel in his room, head in his hands as his shadows flurried around him in displeasure.

“You fucking ran away from your mate.” Cassian was incredulous, “Over 500 years you’ve been desperate for one, and the moment the bond snaps into place, you fucking run away? What the fuck, Az?”

“As if you or Rhys did any better.” Az growled. Already he could feel the tug of the bond towards you. It was part of the reason he’d run away in the first place. Better to hide and brood over this secret than overwhelm you more than he already had.

“He’s got a point there, Cas.”

“Shut up! Az should know better than to follow in our footsteps.”

“That we can all agree on,” Feyre said, breezing into the room and finding her rightful place on the bed beside her husband. He kissed her on the temple and Azriel felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. He had a mate. A mate who had flinched whenever he came too close. The memory turned the contents of his stomach into ash. Bitter and cruel.

“It’s not that simple. You saw her tonight. She couldn’t stand being near me.”

Rhys’s eyes fluttered down to the female in his arms and Feyre, always in sync with Rhys, glanced up at the same time, a look of regret in her eyes.

“Sorry, Rhys.” Az apologized, but he waved it off.

“It might not have been you. We’ve no idea what kind of history she has. What her experience has been with other fae. With males.”

Az’s eyes darkened, his shadows similarly taking on a more vicious tone. That knife in his gut twisted to the side at the thought of anyone hurting you.

“What Rhys means to say,” Feyre said, catching the flicker of darkness around Azriel’s edges, “Is that until you get to know her better, you can’t come to any conclusions about her actions tonight.” A light turned on in her mind and Rhys nodded his head in agreement, “You and Cass should go see her in the morning. Ask her to take you to the library with the romance books so he can find Nesta something. It should give you more than enough time to talk.”

“I will not be supervised by Cassian.”

“Why not, brother? You and your little Librarian can’t be worse than Nesta and I were.”

Azriel lunged at him, ready to smack him in the back of the head, but Feyre slid between them before he could get too close.

“No. No fighting tonight. You can pummel each other to a pulp when we’re home.”

“Promise?” Cassian winked.

Az rolled his eyes and frowned. “This is a terrible time for a mating bond, Fey. Koschei-”

“Has there ever been a good time for a mating bond?”

Azriel fell silent, unable to refute his High Lady.

“Rhys and I will take care of that business tomorrow with Helion.” She said with a tone of finality, holding Azriel’s face between her hands, “This is a good thing, Az. Enjoy it. Get to know her. Get to know your mate.”

Your mate.

The words floated around in Azriel’s mind as he lay in bed and watched the light start to bleed back into the world. He’d been thinking about you all night. You with your soft hair and sheepish smile. You with your mismatched mugs and cheeks flushed with color. He was grateful that Day Court life started early, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stay in bed much longer.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and no one missed the way the Shadowsinger quickly ate, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he watched Cassian savor every bite of his waffles, berry custard, sausages, and tea. Cassian smiled from across the table and Azriel scowled, silently urging him to hurry up. They were wasting precious time.

The moment the last drop from Cassian’s cup was in his mouth, Azriel was hauling him out of his seat and towards the window. Helion narrowed his eyes at the pair but said nothing as their leathery wings flared out without hesitation and they leapt from the Sun Palace.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat when you opened the door, fresh-faced and smelling like mint and rose. You blinked in surprise, once again half-hiding your body behind the cherry wood door. After his abrupt departure last night, you’d paced the floor of your kitchen, aggressively cleaning the dishes as you mulled over everything you must have done wrong in order for him to react like that. Perhaps you’d offended him somehow? Things had certainly felt fine before. You’d enjoyed talking to them… especially him.

“My Lords,” You said with a quick dip of your head. Azriel cringed at the title and Cassian, for the sake of his brother, didn’t poke fun, “Um…why are you here? Or-sorry-what can I do for you today?”

Cassian’s grin was broad and mischievous, “We were hoping you could show us the romance library. The one you told us about last night. I don’t think I could leave the Day Court in good conscience without something salacious to bring home to Nesta.”

“Oh I um…” You glanced behind you at your living room. You’d hoped to finish reading two of your books on containment spells today, perhaps start summarizing some of your findings and look for connections.

“I-” He coughed, “We don’t want to burden you with this if you’re busy.” Azriel jumped in.

Please say you’ll come. Please say you’ll come. He all but shouted the words down the bond.

There was something so hopeful about the way he looked at you, as if he was silently begging you to say yes, that you couldn’t refuse him.

“No, no. I didn’t have anything planned. Just… just give me a few minutes.” With that you shut the door in their faces and ran to your bedroom, reemerging exactly three minutes later wearing a pale yellow dress with sensible brown shoes and a matching coat. Aside from your hands - which you hid within your deep pockets - and your face, not a scrap of skin was to be found anywhere.

You hesitated at the doorway. Both Cassian and Azriel stood too close, crowding the marble steps leading down to the pale cobblestone streets. Azriel elbowed Cassian out of the way, all but pushing him down the steps with you following six feet behind.

“Lead the way, little Librarian.” Cassian said when they reached the bottom, swinging his arm out to the side.

Despite the festivities that had taken place the day before, fae were already wide awake and winding through the streets with groceries and fresh baked bread tucked under the arms. The scholars were the easiest to pick out, milling about the coffeeshops and athenaeums with ink stained fingertips and the scent of old paper clinging to their coats.

Since the war with Hybern, the Day Court’s borders had loosened to accept more visiting researchers from other courts. Intermixed with the usual jumble of fae were tawny-winged Peregryns from Dawn, salt-skinned sailors from Summer, even the occasional fluttering of Spring Court nymph wings could be spotted, shimmering iridescent pinks and purples.

A quarter mile away, the weekly market was beginning to stir with life, offering up the best artisanal wares in all of Prythian. Hand-stitched leather bound journals, elegant fountain pens with a never-ending ink supply, satchels that could hold up to two-hundred pounds worth of material and still feel as light as a feather. Azriel would have investigated further if you hadn’t steered the pair down a narrower neighborhood street, a pink-stoned athenaeum waiting at the end.

“This is the 69th sector athenaeum.” You announced. Cassian coughed into his fist, “And before you ask, yes, the location was selected very intentionally.”

The Illyrian’s face turned a bright red, cheeks flaring out as he attempted to stifle his laughter. Azriel closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rub at his temples. You could have sworn you heard him mumble “Mother give me strength” beneath his breath.

“And what do you call this place?” Azriel asked curiously, trying to turn your attention away from a very immature Cassian, “The “69th sector atheneum” doesn’t have a very pleasing ring to it.”

You blushed, “We call it The Loveseat.”

“A very-” Cassian wheezed, “A very appropriate-” Wheeze, “A very appropriate name.”

You shook your head, hiding your smirk as you opened the double doors and stepped inside. The library dedicated to lovers took its theme very seriously, as most athenaeums were apt to do. Lush velvet couches, bouquets of flowers in every shade imaginable, and paintings of love and affection were carefully laid out in between shelves of auburn-stained wood that reached as high as the ceiling. Walkways criss-crossed above their heads forming a spiral pattern that ended at the domed ceiling where someone had painstakingly painted a collection of confessional scenes from Prythian’s most cherished romance novels.

Cassian may have been all teenage jokes before, but he melted at the sight of the ceiling. He thought of Nesta and tugged on the bond, letting her see the athenaeum before him.

“The more explicit works are in the back.” You said, pointing down towards the back staircase which would take any full-grown fae to the lower level. But Cassian had already drifted off, silently following Nesta’s guidance as he scanned the shelves.

“How do you know that?” Azriel asked once Cassian had all but disappeared.

“Hmmm?”

“How do you know the more explicit works are in the back?”

You fell silent, tugging your sleeves over your hands as you chewed the inside of your cheek. The Shadowsinger tipped his head back and laughed. Not a hidden smile, not a barely-there smirk, or near-silent chuckle, but a gentle full-bodied laugh that shook his wings.

You gaped at him, “A female is allowed to have hobbies, is she not?”

He shook his raven-black hair, the faint waves within it rippling and catching the warm light that trickled down from the ceiling, “I never said she wasn’t. And I would never deny anyone their smutty romance books if that’s what made them happy. After all, I am Nesta’s brother-in-law.”

You leaned against a nearby bookcase, absentmindedly running your ink-stained fingers over the spines and getting flashes of knowledge - the death of a brother, a night spent sweaty and spent under the stars, the exhilarating lurch that comes when two lips kiss for the first time. You couldn’t help but insert the Shadowsinger into the picture.

“And what makes you happy, Azriel? What do you like to do for fun?”

There was a pause, as if no one had ever asked him that question before.

“I like to spend time with my family.” He said, slipping into the shelves and ducking down so he could see you through the space between the books. For the first time in a while, you disliked the physical barrier between you and another person.

You shook your head, pretending to read the titles so you wouldn’t look into those hazel eyes, “That’s not a hobby though.”

He shrugged, “The nature of my work keeps me away from most things. I don’t often have time for things I enjoy.”

“But you do have things you enjoy, don’t you? Something to take your mind off the nature of your work.”

Azriel stilled, no longer moving with you and you realized you must have overstepped your bounds.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you-”

“I like music.” He said finally after some contemplation, “I like flying over the musician’s quarter in Velaris so I can hear what they’re playing at the theater. Sometimes I’ll sneak in and hide in the rafters.”

He’d never told anyone that. But you only nodded in agreement, as if sneaking around in your own city and into shows you could afford in a moment’s notice were a normal thing to do.

“That seems very appropriate for a Shadowsinger.”

The strange dance you’d been dueting came to an abrupt end when the shelves stopped, spitting the two of you out into one of the narrow aisles face to face.

Azriel smiled at you, exposing his teeth in a rare smile. Other than the smallest chip in his left canine, they were pristine - as perfectly imperfect as the rest of him.

“Now you tell me. What do you like to do?”

“Well you already know I like smutty romance novels.”

“Naturally.” He said, gesturing to the space they were in.

You looked around the room, breathed in the smell of roses and ink. You shrugged, “I like to read.”

“Naturally.” The Shadowsinger repeated.

“I… I suppose I like to sing.”

He leaned forward, as if it were a secret, “A little songbird then?”

“No, no, I’m not good at it. But there’s a pianist who lives down the street from me so I end up memorizing her songs.”

You wracked your brain for anything more to say. Something that would make you appear more interesting, braver, kinder, special… someone worthy of the attention you were receiving from this male. You had never been the most physically inclined, hence why the elite Bookkeepers - Librarians charged with the physical protection of their respective athenaeums - had passed you over. You weren’t one for baking or crafting or gardening or hosting parties or any of the rest of those things. You didn’t know how to draw, you’d never picked up an instrument, you tried embroidery once and found it boring.

“I think… I think that’s it, really.” You said, sounding defeated.

Azriel hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time you were thinking. Not for a single second, “I don’t believe you.”

“Well you don’t know me so…”

“Maybe not yet. But I would like to, Y/n the Librarian. If you’d let me.”

The feeling that crept up into your throat and lodged itself there took you by surprise. Some mortifying realization that you were becoming emotional in front of the Shadowsinger. You cleared your throat, dipping your head down and diving back into the shelves so he couldn’t see your silvery eyes.

“Tell me more about the kinds of things academics concern themselves with.” Azriel said smoothly, calling back your conversation from the night before as he peered over a dense set of bodice-rippers at you. If he wanted to take your mind off things, he was doing an excellent job.

“Hardcover versus paperback.” Your fingers skimmed over the book bindings. Bodice-rippers indeed.

“And?”

You pursed your lips, thoughts of Nesta and her smutty books coming into mind before you could help yourself.

“Ahhh, you just thought of something. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” You mumbled, but the Shadowsinger only arched his brows.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Not that you’d put up much of a fight. He was the Shadowsinger after all, he could learn what you had for breakfast three weeks ago if he really wanted to.

“I… I once got into a heated argument with a certain erotica writer about the physical impossibility of a human having sex with a dragon-born fae…”

He blinked, tipped his head back, and laughed. One of those full-bellied ones again. You swiveled around, grateful to find that the only other fae on this floor were currently lip-locked on a sofa ten shelves down. They were far too preoccupied to make a noise complaint.

“It’s not funny!” You hissed, “There are certain anatomical considerations that can’t be ignored. You can’t-” Your futile attempts at explaining yourself were only met with louder laughter. It was infectious and suddenly that was all you two seemed to be capable of. Both of you doubled over with laughter on opposite sides of the bookshelf in a building that suddenly seemed too cramped, too small to fit the joy within.

“Please-” Azriel chuckled, “Please tell me how long this lasted.”

“I can’t breathe-” You gasped for breath, “Oh gods. Three months?”

“Three months?”

“There are nuances we got into. And they use a pseudonym so we were sending letters.”

“Letters?”

Luckily, or rather unluckily for you, you were saved from further explanation, because there was someone waiting at the end of the shelves with two thin fists propped up on curvy hips.

You bit down on your tongue as she sashayed forward, forcing you backward like she knew you would. Azriel immediately stepped to the side as you careened back out into the aisle, your laughter long forgotten. A new crowd was beginning to spread throughout the athenaeum - shy couples on first outings, sheepish young ones searching for the most heart-wrenching stories they could find, older fae looking for a little spark in their comparably milder lives.

But Azriel’s full attention was on you and the displeasure written in your tight lips as the short-haired pixie came out in full view.

“Y/n.” She said, a sugary sweetness in the way she said your name, like rotten fruit.

“Marsha.” You replied curtly, instinctively stepping back and closer to Azriel as the female moved forward to hug you. She rolled her eyes at the rejection, immediately taking notice of Azriel’s dark and towering form. Her small, round lips opened in a surprised oh before sinking into a low bow, chest jutting forward in an attempt to make full use of her small bosom. She wore the signature pale blue robes of another athenaeum - The Blue Drink.

“My Lord Shadowsinger.” More sickly sweet words.

For the first time in Azriel’s life, he didn’t correct her use of his title, already deciding from your reaction that this was not a female he wanted to associate with.

“It is good to see you out and about, Y/n, and in such distinguished company. Hardly anyone sees you anymore, my dear. I can’t imagine what you must be doing with all that time.”

You swallowed, “The High Lord has me on special business. But you already know that, Marsha.”

“Bah. Special business.” She threw a hand in the air, swatting away your confidence, “Busy work.”

“It’s not- '' You bit your tongue. Marsha was one of the few fae who knew you were Helion’s bastard daughter. A complex story that involved her close friendship with Helion's ex-lover who’d felt betrayed when he chose you and your mother over him. Since then she’d convinced herself that all you did was drain from the royal coffers and take advantage of her High Lord’s generosity like some parasite, “It’s not busy work.”

“Then why do you never share it with us? No papers written. No books published.” Even her frown was sickly sweet, “It seems a waste, doesn’t it?”

You remembered what she’d said to you, back when you were an apprentice. What a waste of a Clairvoyant. Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

She tsked her tongue, once again shooting Azriel a deceptively sweet smile, “Well I suppose you have other things taking up your time. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.”

Your face paled, half in embarrassment and half in anger. By all means she shouldn’t have known anything, but as it was with all Librarians, she had a stubborn streak for digging in graves that should remain buried. You could respect her loyalty to her friend. The rest you could not.

Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

“I’m happy for the pair of you.”

Bullshit.

You finally opened your mouth to correct her, but Azriel spoke first, one hand ghosting ever so close to the square of your back, but never making contact, “Thank you. We were just leaving.” Azriel said curtly, jaw clenched. With just a few polite, yet dangerous words from the Shadowsinger, Marsha clamped her mouth shut and said no more.

Azriel tipped his head towards the way you’d originally come, letting you take the lead. You shot him a look of gratitude to which he returned the subtlest of smiles. A kind of smile that said, we can talk later, if you’d like.

You didn’t speak a word to one another until you were outside. Fae mingled about, their conversations doing nothing to drown out your thoughts as you walked over to the small garden. The greenery was half-sunken in the ground beneath the two main stairs that wound together in the shape of a heart. If it were anatomically correct you’d be sitting in the tricuspid valve.

Azriel sat down on the bench beside you, despite the discomfort it must have caused his wings. His shadows darted out, pooling out of his skin and beginning to cover your hands and arms in a strange hug. Azriel’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, some lingering shame of yours leaking through the bond without you even realizing it.

“We should let Cassian know where we are.” You said quietly, hands folded in your lap. Your shoulders bent inward like the curling of paper when it begins to catch fire.

“He’s a grown Illyrian. He’ll find us eventually.”

And even if he didn’t, I would be happy to sit here forever.

Azriel had been furious inside the athenaeum, the already red room turning redder as he saw the light flicker out of your eyes at Marsha’s comment. Perhaps it was another sign of the mating bond that he’d so wanted to slap that prideful smile off her face. It would be beneath him, but satisfying nevertheless.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

You huffed, discreetly blotting out the moisture that had collected in the corners of your eyes, “I am alright. I’m sorry about what happened inside. It wasn’t anything important.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that.”

Gods, he was being kind. Kinder than he needed to be. What were you doing charading two legendary Illyrian warriors through the streets of Day? Stirring up old emotions in public spaces and making a scene in front of him.

“No, I do. It wasn’t right of me to react that way. I should’ve hidden it better.”

“You barely reacted at all.”

Something about his insistence made you feel worse, not better. The emotions you’d been trying to tamp down since the party, and probably far longer than that, were bubbling to the surface.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/n. Tell me the truth.”

The truth…

The truth was that you were a mess. You continuously shrank away from Helion’s attempts to foster a relationship with you, the discomfort you felt leaving your apartment for anything other than work was becoming an unignorable problem, and the mere thought of anyone touching you made your stomach clench. Even the Shadowsinger, whose touch you craved right now, felt like a beast behind a door that should never be opened. It might destroy you if you did.

Koschei.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

“There you both are!” Cassian called out, his neck craning around a stack of books that were piled from his waist to his forehead. His cheeks were touched with color, eyes bright with mischief like a boy seeing a naked lady for the first time. No doubt a consequence of the visions Nesta had been shooting down the bond as he’d scanned the shelves and flipped through the pages.

Azriel hated the way you sprang up from the seat and smoothed your dress, like you wanted to be anywhere else but with him. He’d pushed too far. Come on too strong. Damn it.

On the return trip to the Alcove, you and Cassian spoke casually about the books he’d selected. Or rather, Cassian rambled and you listened, occasionally chiming in if you were familiar with one of Nesta’s favorite authors and offering suggestions.

Azriel walked a few paces behind, watching you as you instinctively tightened your back whenever Cassain or anyone else drifted too close, twisting and turning in a manner that seemed effortless, but which Azriel could see was constantly on your mind. There wasn’t a single step you took that was mindless and calm.

Azriel clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails digging crescent-shaped marks in his palms. He wanted to hold you close, beg you to tell him what was wrong, what he could do to help. But if there was anyone who could understand the fear of being touched, of touching others, it was him.

So when they reached The Alcove, all he did was wave to you from the bottom of the steps as you turned and said goodbye. He committed the scene to memory - your smile, the flush of your cheeks, the swish of your skirt as the door closed shut with a gentle thud.

Cassian whistled low, kicking his brother in the shin with a wobble of books, “You’re whipped, Az. Absolutely whipped.”

And he was right. He was absolutely right.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

*sighs* I just want Azriel to be happy...

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

On a completely unrelated note: I watched Howl's Moving Castle last night and I think it altered my brain chemistry.

"There you are, sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you”

AHHHHHH just AKJDBFHAB ESKLCFNHSDN

Love,

Florence B.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x mate reader #azriel acotar #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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zorobff · 1 year

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i bet on losing dogs. (opla!zoro x reader)

synopsis: zoro is defeated by mihawk and therefore unable to claim the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. you just want him to know that he’s still the greatest to you.

warnings: mentions of blood, some direct dialogue from opla, not much romance i literally just wanted someone to tell zoro he’s enough bc he deserves it <3

a/n: idk if this is any good i just wanted an excuse to write and one piece has been my fixation for like 2 months now so :P

you can’t move.

it seems as if every bone in your body is frozen in place despite your brain telling you to do something — anything. you stand there, eyes helplessly locked onto zoro’s weak and defeated body. your heart is racing and you’re unable to stop your mind from doing the same. after all, there was a certain unease that came with seeing someone like roronoa zoro be conquered. his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman had been crushed within minutes. knowing zoro, that thought would be tougher to overcome than any physical wound.

you want to run to him. to be with him.

luffy beats you to it.

“zoro!” he shouts with such pain that you wonder if he’s somehow hurting more than the swordsman is.

the sight of your captain sprinting across the deck of the baratie manages to push you to action. the two of you rush to zoro’s side, trying and failing to look anywhere but the bright red gash across his torso. it’s even worse up close. with every heave of his chest, more blood oozes out.

the cut is impossibly deep and yet, you can’t help but feel grateful. you’d seen the size of mihawk’s sword. the thing could’ve split zoro in half with the flick of a wrist. just the thought of that sends a new wave of shivers down your spine. you thank every higher power that mihawk was feeling generous enough to spare your friend’s life.

“zoro?” you attempt to say his name calmly. “zoro, please talk to us.”

his eyelashes flutter as he attempts to keep conscious. you see the subtle wincing in his face, the clenching of his jaw. for a second you wish he would have passed out, at least then he wouldn’t have to endure all this agony. even though this was surely the worst hit anyone had landed on him during his extensive career, you could tell that wasn’t the hardest part for him.

his eyes stay glued to the skies, refusing to even acknowledge you or luffy. his irises gloss over and tears well up on his waterline. there could only be one thing on his mind, the one thing you knew he was truly passionate about; his promise. was he afraid he had let down that nameless person he always spoke of? that he had failed as a swordsman?

for some reason, you want to cry with him.

“you did good,” you whisper without a second thought. “just stay awake, okay?”

luffy nods in agreement, hand coming to grip zoro’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“monkey d. luffy,” calls mihawk, shifting everyone’s attention back to him. “what is your goal?”

your captain nearly growls. “i’m going to be the king of the pirates.”

luffy’s response could seem rehearsed. mechanical, even. but the truth is he just meant it that much. his conviction was unmatched in every possible way.

“king of the pirates, eh?” repeats mihawk. there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. however, he wasn’t mocking luffy, as many people tend to do when they hear of his dream. “that is a much more treacherous path than defeating even me.”

luffy whips around to fix mihawk with a stern glare. “i don’t care. it’s what i’m going to do.”

“maybe you will at that,” muses the bearded swordsman. “this world could use a few more wild cards.”

their odd exchange ends there, leaving an unnerving silence. the sound of your choked back sobs getting caught in your throat and waves splashing against the deck is all there is for a moment.

“why the tears, girl?” mihawk inquires.

you can’t bear to look at him, much less respond. not after what he’d done to zoro. your hands that once rested reassuringly on your crewmate’s stomach now ball into fists. how could he behave so nonchalantly when he had injured zoro within an inch of his life?

“seems like you aren’t as plucky as the rest of your crew, hm?” mihawk comments when his question is met with silence.

hot tears of frustration roll down your cheeks. “get lost. you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“that would be incorrect. i was tasked with retrieving your captain for the marines. as you can see, i have yet to do that.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you came here for,” you tell him between gritted teeth. “how do you have the nerve to stand there and talk down to us after what you did to him?”

mihawk’s head tilts to the side as he observes you. pensively, he murmurs, “you care for him.”

“of course we care for him, he’s our crewmate!” luffy shouts in response, clearly missing the true meaning behind the words.

on the other hand, you opt to stay silent, slightly embarrassed about how quickly mihawk was able to catch on to you. were your feelings really that easy to see through? almost as if confirming your concern, mihawk coughs out a dry chuckle before his face falls stoic once more.

“look after him.” his gaze lingers on you when he says that. “it is too soon for him to die. roronoa zoro, grow strong and come find me. i’ll be waiting.”

with that, mihawk makes his exit. once the coast is clear, usopp and nami finally come scurrying over. the marksman kneels down on zoro’s left while the latter stays standing, almost too afraid to get close.

“he’s losing so much blood,” usopp notes, voice unsteady.

luffy is quick to shut down the true implication behind those words. “he’s going to be okay.”

a strangled groan escapes the green-haired swordsman in question. the four of you freeze. the moment feels eerily similar to when you watched him collapse after mihawk had struck him down. for the second time in a day, zoro has all of you holding your breath in anticipation.

“if i—” he swallows hard, eyes still shiny and looking upward. “—fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman... you’ll be disappointed. right?”

luffy’s gaze softens. “you could never fail me.”

however, your captain’s sincere words don’t seem to be enough. zoro finally rips his gaze away from the clouds, head lolling to the side to face you instead. those wide eyes of his always held so much intensity, so much emotion. now is no different as he meets your stare, seemingly in search of your reassurance as well.

it wasn’t that you were unsure of what to say but how to say it. you didn’t trust yourself to speak your mind and say what you truly thought of zoro. the last thing you needed was your feelings for him slipping out at a time like this. you decide to play it safe and just nod. “you know i feel the same way. we all do.”

“i need… to hear you say it,” he replies, voice cracking.

your heartbeat gets caught in your throat at the utter desperation in zoro’s voice. it sounded as if he truly needed your approval if he was going to survive this. it was unlike him to get hung up on something so trivial such as someone’s opinion of him. he never seemed to care what other people thought, why was he starting now? and with you, of all people?

before you can question it any further, zoro hisses. the pain causes his entire body to tense and his wound spurts fresh crimson. without thinking, your hand comes up to rest reassuringly on his cheek. automatically, your thumb begins rubbing soothing circles on the skin. he’s hot to the touch and slick with sweat but you don’t mind it. the way his body relaxes itself is all you care about. well, that and the way he leans into your touch. for someone who rejected physical contact at every given chance, this was new but very, very welcome.

the emotion of it all causes you to lose any concern you’d previously had over voicing your thoughts about zoro. you can’t help but give him the response he was begging for, regardless of how smitten you sounded.

“zoro, you’re the best i’ve seen. and i don’t just mean with your swords. no defeat could ever take away what you have, you know that right? almost everyday i ask myself what the hell i’m doing on the same crew as someone like you. you don’t understand how much it pains me knowing that you feel the need to prove your worth when clearly you’re the greatest there is. in every way. so, how could i ever be disappointed in you?”

there’s a few moments of silence. this time, you truly don’t hear a thing. not the waves, not the birds in the sky, not even the thumping of your own heartbeat. your brain has blocked out everything that isn’t zoro. the same zoro who’s breaking down into tears right in front of you. it’s an unbelievable sight, watching them stream down his face as he takes in everything you’d just said.

using what little strength he has left, zoro lifts a shaky hand to rest atop yours. you pause your ministrations on his cheek and let him intertwine his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand so tightly that you’re positive it takes everything in him to do so.

“never… again,” he chokes out, tearful eyes meeting yours. “from now, until i beat him.” he uses his left hand to unsheathe his sword. he lifts it to the sky with purpose, as if to solidify this vow. “will i ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me. i, roronoa zoro, will never lose again!”

his grip becomes unsteady, causing his sword to fall from his grasp and clatter on the ground. his arm falls back to his side and he’s able to give you one last look before he’s out cold.

“zoro?” luffy calls, leaning forward. “zoro?!”

you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand going limp. you’re grateful he’s still breathing at the very least but it’s clear he needs medical attention fast.

“let’s get him inside,” nami commands. it’s the first thing she’s worked up the courage to say.

luffy and usopp waste no time shifting zoro’s arms over their shoulders while you and nami take his legs. despite your joint efforts, the four of you struggle to drag zoro off the baratie; you blame his rigorous training that had made him all muscle. usually you wouldn’t complain but it sure made carrying him aboard the going merry a difficult task. at last, he’s dumped onto the table in your makeshift kitchen.

“get the first aid kit,” nami demands, opening zoro’s shirt to inspect the severity of his wound.

“do we even have one?” usopp replies as he shifts around every cupboard and drawer on the ship.

“zoro… can you hear me?” luffy’s quiet voice gets lost in the commotion your two other crew mates are creating. but you take notice.

“he’s going to be alright,” you tell him. whether you say it for luffy or yourself, you aren’t certain.

“someone needs to go back to baratie,” nami sighs, running a hand through her ginger locks. “maybe one of the customers is a ship’s doctor.”

the devil fruit user blinks a couple times. “right. a doctor. we need a doctor.” he sprints out of the kitchen, presumably in search of one.

once your captain’s gone, nami aids usopp in scouring the kitchen, in search of anything that could potentially help your crew mate until he’s able to receive the proper medical attention.

you decide to stay right by zoro’s side. not once do you leave him.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro x reader #one piece x reader #opla x reader #zoro imagine #zoro fluff #zoro angst

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misstycloud · 1 year

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Yandere ex husband

TW: mention of childbirth, using children to manipulate.

Yandere ex husband who you met during the adolescent high school years. The two of you met through mutual friends and immediately hit it off. People even began joking you were destined for each other, which made both of you blush. It was inevitable he asked you out. One date became two and eventually turned into three.

Yandere ex husband who wondered if you’d be his girlfriend while nervously differing with his fingers and looking awkwardly to the side. You were overjoyed at the question and answered happily, yes. You and your boyfriend was thick as thieves, barely seen without the other after you became official.

Yandere ex husband that proposed romantically to you on your sixth anniversary on the private picnic you had planned. It wasn’t anything special but you loved it anyway. It was comfortable and intimate, which was everything you wished for. Your new fiancée cried tears along side you as you accepted his proposal and hugged you tightly, swearing to never leave you.

Yandere ex husband and you had your wedding, inviting your family and friends to the festivity. It wasn’t grand like those thousand dollar weddings you saw in movies or posted by the rich on the internet. That was something your husband regretted; not giving you the dream wedding. You however, we’re content with what you got. The only important thing was that your family could be there and the one you married was your high school sweetheart. You assured that to your husband, but you had a feeling it still lingered in his mind despite the smiles he gave you.

Yandere ex husband who got you pregnant not long after your marriage. The two of you panicked on the inside since none of you though it’d happen, you considered yourselves always pretty careful with those things. You hadn’t really had much talk about kids either, only coming to a silent agreement to talk more about it after you were married and when you felt mature enough to acknowledge the idea. But you’ll manage, you decided.

Yandere ex husband was very attentive to your needs during the pregnancy and would do anything you asked of him. The dishes needs doing? He’ll wash them! Your feet are sore? Your dear husband will gladly massage them for you! Too tired to cook? Don’t worry, he’ll make dinner or order take-out if you want! Nothing’s too big or too small for him as long as you get to rest.

Yandere ex husband who initially was very concerned about how to proceed when your pregnancy was confirmed. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Will you be good parents? Will the money be enough for the three of you? Gosh, there’s so much to think about. It’s an endless ocean of things to prepare. Though, as time passed and you became bigger, his worries began to lessen. You were so cute with that bump on your stomach! It’ll all be just fine.

Yandere ex husband and you were so in love when your son was born. He looked very much like his father, sharing the same nose and hair. As you had to regain some energy after the birth, your husband looked after the baby. And all he could do those hours was watch him sleep soundly in his arms, the purest little being in the world. Finally, his broken world was complete with you and his son close to him.

Yandere ex husband who didn’t know exactly when it started happening, the fights and the bickering. It was somewhere after your son had been born. The same tall strain parenthood had taken made you both constantly exhausted. No longer had you time for yourself. It was only small things at first, and then it turned worse; something as little as spilling something coudl set the other off. Your household had transformed from a loving comfort to a stiff bomb ready to go off any minute.

Yandere ex husband and you ultimately made the decision to part ways. You were sure of your decision although he was still unsure, he still loves you after all and wanted to be around your son as much as possible. But then he realises some distance might be good for you and agreed to leave temporarily for a while, until you can go back to normal again. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. You mind was settled and would waver no matter how he attempted to change your mind. You don’t need a divorce, what nonsense! You only needed a little space, that’s all.

Yandere ex husband who finally relented to your wishes and signed the divorce papers, almost tearing the sheet apart due to the force extracted through the pen. It was a big mistake. Without you, there was no ligh in his world. You made him whole. Yes, he got to see his son, but it wasn’t the same as before. This wasn’t the happy family he dreamed of being. Everyday felt more and more meaningless. He managed to get an apartment close to work and dragged himself there when the day ended. You got the house the two of you’d bought together years earlier.

Yandere ex husband who had to win you back. Otherwise he might waste away! You were so frustrated with how many times he called you and demanded a second chance. No, this is what was best for you, you said to yourself. You and your ex husband weren’t on bad terms and kept it civil for your sons sake, but you couldn’t be together anymore. Even though a part of you still felt a little for your former husband, you were afraid you’d just fall back into old routines. You loved your son with all your heart, but you couldn’t deny the fact that perhaps you and your husband hadn’t been as ready for kids as you thought.

Yandere ex husband who won’t stop pestering you for a date and to get back together; going as far as to use your son as leverage. Think of your boy, he’s so young and deserves a father close to him. This of course made you furious. How could he use him to force you to go with his wants? Now you were even more sure of your decision and stood your ground. Flowers showed up at the doorstep every now and then, chocolates too among other gifts. You wanted to enjoy them, however, that would simply give your ex the wrong idea and so you couldn’t. They were good items so that was sad.

Yandere ex husband who will stop at nothing to get you and his son back. Was he really a bad man for wanting that? His family whole again? No, certainly not. He wasn’t a bad person minus all the things he did for you in high school. He knows you’d do anything for your little boy, so how could you refuse when he asks why his dad isn’t living with you and how he wish he did. You’ll crack eventually, that he knows.

All that’s left to do is wait.

————

Sorry for not updating much I’ve been busy and haven’t had the energy to write something! But I just wanted to get this out

;)

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #yandere #yandere oc #possesive #toxic #bad relationships #short story #husband #yandere husband #yandere ex #yandere ex husband #misstycloud oc #child

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eat-limes-bitches · 8 months

Text

Coming Home

PAIRING: Female Avenger! Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: “Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, “It was coming home.”

WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST! but it has a happy ending, mentions of death, dying, blood, stab wounds, violence, Sad! Bucky, nausea

Word Count: 1913

A/N: Hi! Here is another installment of my febuwhump series! Like I said, completely out of order but I couldn't wait it share this one with you guys!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Y/n knew when they left for this mission that something wasn’t right. It was too clean, the information was too good. Despite the many reassurances from Bucky when they landed, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Now, as she ran, she made a mental note to shout, ‘I told you so’ at her partner as soon as they reached the safe house, that was, if she could get out of the collapsing building. Skidding around a turn she pushed herself harder, desperate to reach the exit. She was almost there when there was an excruciating pain thrumming up her left leg. Whipping her head around, she saw a knife embedded in her calf and a trapped HYDRA soldier holding onto the handle.

“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me, sweetheart.” the soldier grimaced as he twisted the knife. Y/n glanced at the fast-approaching collapse of the ceiling before looking at the trapped man.

“You fucking wish,” she growled before shooting the man. His hand, now lifeless, released the handle so she continued her rapid sprint to the exit, somehow stumbling out the doorway and collapsing in the grass just as the rest of the building fell into a pile of rubble.

“Y/N! Are you alright?!” Bucky's worried voice shouted in her ear, causing her to wince.

“Just fucking peachy.” She grumbled, closing her eyes as a headache started to form in the back of her head. She re-opened them, however, as she heard rapid footsteps approaching, looking over just in time to see Bucky’s approaching form. He slid to a stop and took in her battered form on the ground.

“Are you hurt darlin’?” Has questioned, as he leaned down to help Y/n back to her feet. S he winced as her left leg started supporting weight again.

“Yeah some bugger got me in the calf on the way out, but it's not bleeding too badly, we can take care of it at the safe house I think.” She groaned, putting more weight on Bucky's shoulder. He glanced over her shoulder to observe the wound in question and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I think so too but let's get you to that safe house faster.” Bucky led her to the bike that was hidden in the tree line and gracefully set her down on the back seat before hopping on the bike himself and speeding off down the dirt road.

The longer the pair drove, the worse Y/n felt. Her head started spinning and her stomach churned. By the time they reached the safe house, she all but flung herself off the bike and hurled what was left of her breakfast that morning into the bushes.

“Shit, you ok doll?” Bucky asked, crouching down next to her, running a hand up and down her back. Y/n let out a groan.

“Been better I’m not gonna lie.” As Bucky wrapped an arm around her frame and pulled her up to move her into the house, she couldn’t decide if the butterflies in her stomach were from being this close to him or the nausea. Once inside the small safe house, Bucky placed Y/n on the kitchen table and dashed off to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

She tried to get an idea of what was around her in the room but the more she tried to focus on one thing, the more it spun around in her vision. Unable to prop herself up any longer, she lay flat on the table trying to stop the world from moving around her. Bucky returned moments later and placed a wet rag on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“I’m gonna get this knife out now, ok doll?” Bucky said as he rounded the table. All Y/n could do was make a soft ‘mhm’ and groan as he pulled the knife out.

The first sign that something was wrong was the orange tinge to the blood that came pouring out of the wound. The next hint was the remnants of a yellow powder on the blade. The more strange orange liquid oozed out of the wound, the faster Bucky’s heart sped up.

“Y/n? You feeling ok darlin’?” He called out, looking up from the wound when he heard no response. Y/n’s head was limply lying to one side. He cursed under his breath as he tightened the tunicate and dashed around the table to place a hand on her face.

“Y/n? Open your eyes for me darlin’.” Bucky called out desperately, his thumb brushing over her cheek, taking notice of how cold it was to the touch. Her eyes fluttered open and her blown-out pupils focused on Bucky’s face. A wistful smile decorated her features.

‘Hey Buck, when did you get here?” Bucky’s heart sank, he knew the signs all too well from his time in the war. The faraway look, the disorientation, she was dying, but she couldn’t be, not yet.

“I’ve been here the whole time doll. Can you keep your eyes open for me?” He pleaded as he started to back away to try and return to her wound to keep patching it up. He was stopped by her hand coming up holding his hand to her face, keeping him in place.

“You know I always knew that this was going to happen.” She mumbled, locking her gaze on his face. Bucky riffled through his pocket looking for his emergency transponder.

“W-what are you talking about, baby? You’re gonna be fine!” He stated, fumbling over his words as he pulled out the little remote and pressed the button. Y/n shook her head.

“No, I’m not and you know that just as much as I do.” Her voice was becoming airy the more she tried to talk. Bucky felt the hard knot in his throat starting to form as he shook his head, willing the tears to go back into his eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about doll. I’m gonna get you patched up a-and we are going to go home and you are gonna take me to that noodle shop you promised me right?” Y/n shook her head softly, not having a lot of energy to move at this point.

“You know I won’t. But please know, none of this is your fault”. Her voice was light and airy as she spoke. Bucky shook his head wildly.

“No, not like this, Y/n, please not like this!” He cried, bringing his other hand up to cup her face, trying to keep her gaze locked on him. She soothed him, bringing her other hand up to place it on top of his head, burying her finger into the dirty chestnut locks.

“It’s gonna be ok, Buck.” She whispered, a smile still decorating her face. Bucky decided that even as she lay there dying on the table, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Don’t be sad, the stars are going to shine tonight.” Bucky took a shaky breath, letting his eyes slip close to savor the feeling of her fingers in his hair one last time.

“A-and when you see them, know I am watching over you.” Y/n gasped as her body began shutting down causing Bucky’s eyes to flash open in alarm. Y/n shook her head a bit, a breathy laugh dancing off her lips.

“There is so much to say, so many wonderful things I have to tell you, but with so little time left.” Her voice was only a whisper now, but even as quiet as her words were, she couldn’t hear the jet engine roaring in the background.

“Like what darlin’?” Bucky whimpered as he watched her eyes grow dull the closer the footsteps got to the door.

“Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, revealing a disheveled Steve and Bruce barreling in, with the rest not far behind. With a final breath, she looked Bucky right in the eye.

“It was coming home.”

~~~~~~happy ending after the cut but if you want to be sad stop here~~~~~~~~

The cry that left Bucky as her hands went limp and her eyes slid closed was going to haunt the team for the rest of their lives. Bruce, who had been tending to the wound the first chance he got, looked to the rest of the team.

“She still has a pulse, all be it faint. I know what's wrong with her, we can save her.”

To Bucky, everything after that was a blur. Steve pulled Bucky away from Y/n and Tony scooped her up, rushing her back to the jet as the rest rushed after him. Back at the compound, Y/n was placed in the med wing as Bruce began treatment. Bucky didn’t understand much other than “Radiation sickness. Uranium on the knife. Nothing he could have done.”

Nothing he could have done? He watched the love of his life basically die in his arms, in his care and there was nothing he could have done? After being forcibly made to shower and change clothes to rid himself of the Uranium on his clothes was he then allowed into her room. He resumed the position he held at the safe house, clutching her hand and waiting for any signs of life, other than the beeping from the monitor.

Bucky moved his gaze from her face to the window. The light danced off the windows of the other building unfiltered by the cloudless sky. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t appreciate it, it looked dull in comparison to the woman on the bed.

“I thought I told you to not be sad.” Her voice was so soft that Bucky thought he imagined it but when he snapped his gaze to her face, he saw her bright eyes staring right back at him. Bucky choked on a sob and rested his head on the bed. The relief flooding through his system was too much for him to handle. Her nimble fingers took their rightful place on top of his head, brushing through the now silky hair strands.

After a moment, Bucky lifted his head and captured Y/n’s hand as it fell from his head, pressing a kiss into her palm before holding it in his hands.

“It’s hard not to be sad when the one person who brought life into the darkest parts of my life was dying in my arms.” He returned his gaze to lock onto Y/ns. For a moment the pair sat in silence before Bucky spoke again.

“I thought I lost you.” Y/n just smiled softly, not saying a word. Bucky just stared at her, trying to bask in the warmth of her gaze as long as he could. The more he basked, the more the nightmarish pain of losing her was becoming just that, a nightmare.

“But I’m still here.” Bucky’s grip increased slightly, fearful that he may hurt her, but needing to feel her to keep himself grounded, keep himself from falling off the edge of reality in the abyss of ‘what ifs’. Bucky had so many things he wanted to tell her, so many different things he could and should say but the only thing that managed to slip out was, “Yeah. Yeah you are.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader angst

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klavlock · 10 months

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cumplane poly au where they love their husbands. they love their husbands so much. luo binghe is shen qingqui's whole world and shang qinghua literally built his own ideal man.

but fuck, isn’t that the problem? sometimes, mobei jun isn’t REAL. he’s literally a figment of shang qinghua's imagination. this whole place is. and he’s been trapped in his own imagination so long he’s forgotten the world he came from. he can’t even remember his own birth name. but he remembers cucumber-bro. he remembers those abrasive comments, he remembers how those full takedowns of every thing he wrote made him feel. he remembers it better than he remembers his original parents faces.

it’s not— it’s not inherently romantic. for either of them. it’s a NEED. for shen qingqiu, there is exactly one person in the whole world who truly understands that longing for a world he doesn’t even want to go back to, not really. for shang quinghua, there’s only one person who gets him. the him from before. this beautiful, poised man with his fan language and obedient doting husband is also the only person who gets his love of memes and horrible porn and preservative-laden food.

they don’t do anything about it, because how could they? they’re loyal to their husbands, they love their husbands. but the thing is… proud immortal demon way was a harem novel once. and shang qinghua had written luo binghe and mobei jun with more emotional intelligence than was common for this world (mainly for his own sanity.) so… they don’t have to say anything. their husbands come to them.

and luo binghe is crying, and mobei jun is stone-still with clenched fists and a clenched jaw. but binghe BEGS his shizun to do what will make him happy. that seeing his shizun upset and hurting and longing is way worse than any jealousy could be. and mobei jun says nothing but when shang quinghua looks at him, he just nods in agreement.

so it’s not often. they don’t need it often. but now and then, when shen qingqiu is disassociating like a motherfucker luo binghe calls on his airplane bro to bring him back down to earth. or when shang qinghua is on his third day of no sleep, plagued by fears that none of this is even real, mobei jun teleports him directly to his cucumber-bro's bed for cuddles and kisses and horrible millennial memes whispered into his ear until hes laughing away his anxiety and - eventually - falling asleep.

mobei jun and lou binghe don’t understand it. but they are happy their husbands are happy. and that’s what matters.

#cumplane #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #bingqiu #moshang #svsss #text post #klavier writing #svsss au

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

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❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

#hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemyra #daemyra smut #daemon x you #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x you #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #daemon targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen smut #hotd modern au #hotd x reader #daemon fanfic #daemyra fanfic #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

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rarepears · 8 months

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A nearby country just had a new monarch ascend the throne. Cang Qiong, as was the norm, was invited to pay their respects to the new monarch, reaffirm the standing alliance between cultivators and mortals (which pretty much boiled down to cultivators kill evil things, mortals stay out of cultivation affairs plus some trade agreements), and ensure that the previous monarch's soul wasn't still lurking around the palace as a ghost. You know, the standard stuff.

So Yue Qingyuan didn't think much when he sent the usual delegation of Shen Qingqiu (to handle the political negotiation and come back with observations of the new Emperor), Shang Qinghua (trade agreements), and Qi Qingqi (to talk with the court ladies and government official wives for the gossip).

The last thing he expected was for the new Emperor to recognize Shen Jiu as the little brother who went missing when the previous Emperor - the new Emperor's paternal uncle, from what Yue Qingyuan understood - undertook a military coup to secure the throne.

---

When Shen Yuan finally killed his super fucking evil tyrant uncle who had been sending a million assassins after Shen Yuan and his (unfortunately now dead) brothers, he got saddled with the throne. He knew that was going to happen! It was something he wasn't asking for, but it was either regain the throne or let his uncle finally succeed in killing him, the rightful Emperor, off. It was pretty shitty that his first month in this new world involved surviving a military coup in the palace where his new dad was murdered by his new uncle for the throne. If Shen Yuan thought being transmigrated into a body that drowned in the pond because of some harem politics for the crown prince position was bad, well, his life got a whole lot fucking worse.

But things were over. He was crowned emperor, had a million super tight best friends all high up in his government backing him, and even the cultivators were recognizing his reign as the legit one, so he was all fine.

Right??

NO! Because why the fuck was he just realizing now that his second life was actually taking place in PIDW and why the fuck was that Shen Qingqiu and the Cang Qiong delegation??? Like, he was busy living on the streets and plotting to retake the throne, sure, but how could he had missed that Cang Qiong was that Cang Qiong!?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where in the PIDW plot line was he in now? How far along is Shen Qingqiu busy torturing the protagonist and how much longer does Shen Yuan even have to rule his country before the protagonist comes to conquer? How the fuck is he going to stop the plot from continuing - how is he going to remove Shen Qingqiu from the plot?

Shen Yuan isn't proud to admit it, but he rolls with the first shitty idea that pops into his head.

He claims that Shen Qingqiu is his missing younger brother - he had like three dozen of them to be honest, his second life's dad was one horny motherfucker - and tries to keep Shen Qingqiu from going back to Cang Qiong under all sorts of familial pretenses.

Shen Yuan is sure that Cang Qiong is merely humoring his insanity by letting Shen Qingqiu go along with it all, having "family dinners" and making small talk while being careful to skirt around any true political talk, but his plan hasn't backfired on him yet.

YET.

He's sitting on this ticking timebomb and Shen Yuan might be in his 40s but he still feels like the same stupid 20 something year old writing 5k word diss reviews on PIDW chapters some days. If only he had a system to help guide him out of his own mess.

(Meanwhile Shen Jiu: I HAVE AN OLDER BROTHER WHO LOVES ME???? but I'm still sus about his motives. I will reluctantly allow him to shower me in presents and praises and spend time with him to investigate more.)

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #mxtx #shen yuan #scum villain's self saving system #shen yuan is emperor and claims that shen qingqiu is his missing younger imperial brother AU

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fantasylandloser · 9 months

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Talk

Pairing: Rickyl x reader

Warnings: 18+, this is not proofread, dom!daryl, dom!rick, sub!reader, spanking, bruises, mentions of apocalypse, lots of crying, lmk if there's more,

a/n: this was not supposed to turn out like this but in the middle of my horniness, i did the worst thing I could do and got SAD

********

It had been seven days since the stupid argument where you accused Daryl of always taking Rick’s side. Seven days of you giving them the silent treatment. Seven days of them trying to give you the chance to make it right.

You’ve done this before, gotten upset and just decided you were done speaking to them until your feelings weren’t hurt anymore. You’d put yourself in a world of trouble every time. It wasn’t always their fault, you’d always been sensitive and the apocalypse didn’t change that, it just made you deal with it differently. Unhealthily, in Rick’s opinion. That’s why there were rules.

So when you’d walked into your bedroom you should have expected to see Rick and Daryl there, but you’d forgotten that your week was up and you just opened the floodgates by not checking in with either of them.

The sight of them makes you flinch a little and you briefly consider walking back out, but Rick must see it in your eyes. “You walk out that door, you’re only gonna make it worse for yourself.” He warns from his position on the edge of your bed. “And honey, it’s already pretty bad.”

Daryl’s sitting in the chair in your corner, he’s quiet and even though he’s usually easy to calm down. You can see it in his face that he’s just not in the mood.

You huff considering your options, deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? Deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? Deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? You decide to make it easier on yourself, unbuttoning your jeans and shoving them off your legs you make your way to Rick’s lap, practically throwing yourself over his knee, not quite ready to give up your attitude.

Usually, if you have a choice, you pick Daryl. He may have rougher hands but he’s gentler and at the first sign of you crying decides you’ve had enough and kisses it better. Rick is an entirely different story. He can be brutal if you’ve driven him in the direction and this is one of his biggest pet peeves from you so you’re sure you have.

He’s surprised by your action, but so very gently drags a hand down your back and you know it’s to lure you into a false sense of security so that the first hit is a shock. “You don’t wanna talk about it first?” Which is what they usually try to get you to do when you get like this.

‘Nope.” Rick sends Daryl a look. One that means ‘deal with her’, because as much as you loved to be a brat to Rick, the moment Daryl said something with even a hint of authority in his voice you stepped in line. You could dip your toe in the brat pool, but you aren’t really much of one. You’re sensible and fucking sweet, which is why you get so upset. They know that, you don’t.

“It don’t work like that.” Daryl finally speaks. You scoff a little, which is bold considering your position but you can’t help yourself.

“Here we go again.” You mutter, jabbing at him when you know better. Rick raises his eyebrow and they seem to come to an agreement in silence.

“Give’er what she wants, then.” Daryl tells Rick, which seems to be all the encouragement he needs because not even a second later his hand comes down on your ass swiftly. It surprises you and it really fucking stings, especially when he keeps going on that same spot and you know it’s to make his hand print as visible as possible.

You’re biting your lip hard, trying to keep your cries inside of you. You grip your bedspread, trying and failing to brace yourself for the next one. When Rick finally moves to the next spot, you think it'll bring you a little relief but it doesn’t because it 's the top of your thighs and you know he really wants to make it last.

On a particularly hard one Daryl gets up, so that he can get closer. He’s squatting in front of you when he pulls your lip from behind your teeth. “Let go.” He tells you, and you do on instinct. There's blood on his thumb when he pulls his hand back and you realize you broke the skin on your lips.

It takes a while for the tears to come but when they do, you manage for the most part to keep them from becoming sobs. Rick stops for a beat, rubbing over the already raised skin. His hand hot from the constant impact. You’re trying to catch your breath, while he stops because you know Rick and you know he can go for longer.

Daryl grips your tearfilled face, his blue eyes hard, but still filled with that underlying layer of concern. “You done, or does Rick need to keep going?” He offers you the out, but he still sees that look in your eye. The look that tells him something in your brain is still telling you to distance yourself from them.

“M’done” You mumble, haphazardly wiping your tears with the sleeves of your shirt, which Daryl realizes is Rick’s. Cute.

“You ready to talk now?” When you nod he lets it slide because you’re still crying and he knows you’re trying to calm your tears before anything. You get embarrassed to cry now that the world is overrun. You feel like your tears should be saved for when you really need them and it’s part of the reason you’re having such a hard time expressing yourself.

The constant stream of tears doesn’t stop when you pull yourself up to sit beside Rick, tucking your legs under you to ease the pressure on your ass. You know Rick is still pissed slightly because he pulls you into his lap when he sees the action. The denim of his pants causes extra discomfort for your skin.

“No more ‘week of space bullshit’.” Daryl tells you still squatting on the floor so he can see you better. “Now on’ if you got a problem, you come straight to us.” You nod again, and it’s the last one he’ll let you do.

“If you want to continue our conversation from last week, now's the time to do so.” Rick says, you can feel his heartbeat slowing down to its regular levels and the angry grip he had on your thigh turning into soothing circles.

It takes you a second to say something and you have to wipe your tears once again because they still haven’t stopped. “I just feel like-” Your voice catches and you cringe at the whiny sound of your voice, but you can’t clear that lump from your throat.

You start over, your voice calmer, even though the evidence of you crying is still there. “I feel like my voice goes unheard sometimes…. and it makes me just not want to talk at all.” Another wipe of your tears and a sniffle. You’re not even making eye contact with Daryl anymore, scared you’re ruining everything by speaking about it.

“I know it’s a game we play or whatever and,” Your tone goes up a pitch like you’re about to start sobbing and Daryl’s heart stops beating in his chest momentarily. “I like that game a lot, but we can’t play it everyday. It gets-” You cut yourself off when you words start to shake more than what will allow you to be coherent. When you see the way Daryl is looking at you, your heart drops.

“M’sorry, I should have said something.” Then it finally happens, the bucket tips over and you’re sobbing afraid you disappointed them. Rick is in your ear softly telling you it’s okay, rocking you.

“Ain’t no reason to be sorry.” Daryl tells you, but inside he’s trying to play back encounters, looking to see how this got past him.

Rick thinks this is good. That you were long overdue to cry like this. He knew what you needed to get you vulnerable enough to do it, to say what you needed and now you’re finally there and they can build on it.

The two of them spend the rest of the night doting on you, rubbing lotion on your bruised ass. Kissing your temple, telling you that you’re so good, so special, so important. When you finally fall asleep, they both just watch you, both of them wrestling with how they can be better for you. To you.

#rickyl #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl imagines #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #twd rick #twd x reader #rickyl x reader #fantasylandloserfic

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johnnysuhbmarine · 2 months

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My Lips are Sealed

Pairing: Jeno x reader Description: Your childhood was nothing short of amazing with !twinbrotherJaemin and !bestfriendJeno. It was the three of you against the world, and all Jaemin asked was that you and Jeno not get involved with each other. It was a simple rule, but one that Jeno convinced you to give up on by the end of your senior year of high school. While you’re ready to navigate the extent of both your feelings, Jeno was ready to pretend that one shared kiss never existed, tearing apart your friendship in the process. Though, with college graduation came the famed trip to Hawaii the three of you had planned since childhood. Now it was just a matter of if four years of no contact between you and Jeno was something you could come back from. Content warnings: mentions of alcohol, a little bit of angst with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. Word count: 12,821 :) A/n: I had wips started for other members before the idea of this existed but I can’t help myself from writing about Jeno. I hope you all are doing well - I’m rooting for you! Please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do. As always, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

You were alone on the outskirts of the venue, already tired of getting stepped on by everyone jumping up and down, or worse, having to withstand watching all the couples dance to the slow songs. Prom night was not all that those movies chalked it up to be, not when you’re single, anyways. That being said, the theme was masquerade and you were currently walking through the garden, so you didn’t miss the opportunity to at least romanticize your night a little bit.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when you hear footsteps behind you, and you turn from the rose bushes to lay eyes on a figure you knew all too well, a small smile coming onto your features as you meet his masked gaze. As soon as you turned around to face him, his movements grew clumsier, and he softly laughed over them as he spoke. “Hey there. I don’t mean to come on too strong but, you look beautiful.” His words were firm but you just raised an eyebrow and shook your head.

“Jeno, I know you know it’s me.” You reply with a dry laugh.

He looks back over his shoulder before turning towards you once more, confused. “Jeno? Who’s Jeno?”

Your raised brow quickly furrows as you look at him. The masks adorning your faces in no way made either of you unrecognizable to each other when you’ve quite literally grown up together. You were sure that was Jeno, and you were sure he knew who you were under that mask, too. “What are you playing at?” You ask, any remaining patience for his games leaving your voice. To your surprise, Jeno’s shoulders dropped, and he looked around again to make sure no one else was nearby before moving closer to you.

“You know Jaemin’s one rule for me?” He questions, and you swallow hard because of course you knew the rule your twin brother had set in place since you were five, but you couldn’t figure out why that was any bit relevant right now.

“That you’re not allowed to get involved with me?” You answer hesitantly, and Jeno nods his head.

“Yeah, that one. It’s kind of a pain.” He says with a light laugh.

You drop your head to face the floor, all your courage escaping you as you acknowledge the one thing you’ve been pushing down for years. “...yeah.” You breathe out in agreement, and the corner of Jeno’s mouth quirks up in a smirk.

He takes a step closer to you. “So, what if our masquerade outfits were just so good that we couldn’t recognize each other?” He asks in something close to a whisper. “That I didn’t know it was you?” He takes another step, you can feel his breath as you look back up to face him with wide eyes. “Could I kiss you then?” He finally gets out in a whisper, and your world starts slowing to a pause.

You had to be smart here. Your brother meant the world to you, having his trust meant the world to you, and all he ever asked for was that you and Jeno not get involved…well, he made it more of a demand on Jeno’s end. For over a decade, you abided by it with no mishaps, but it never changed the fact that your soul has been aching for Jeno all that time - that it still is. You didn’t know what to do. “Jeno…” You whisper back, all of your thoughts ending right there. Thankfully, he picks back up and, for better or worse, doesn’t know how to quit.

“What if it was just an honest mistake? He can’t get mad at us for that, can he?” He continues to dig at it, reaching for the answer he wanted in response to his twisted logic. His hand had already come up to cup your cheek, and you shift your gaze to make eye contact with him, trying to take back some dominance as opposed to turning into a puddle. Your wide, soft, helpless eyes were nothing in comparison to the longing you saw in his.

Jeno had regained all his confidence and composure long since he stumbled through calling you beautiful. Everything now was meticulous, completely controlled by Jeno, and you wonder how long he had been planning this. Since the theme was announced? All those months ago? You can’t imagine having missed his pining after you for that long, especially when you’ve been looking for a hidden meaning to his every action for years now, and yet, he stood in front of you now in seriousness - seriously looking as though he might die if you don’t let him kiss you.

You move your gaze back down to his chest - anywhere that wasn’t his eyes as you respond as surely as you could. “If you’re going to kiss me, whoever you are, do it now.”

The only pause Jeno took in between your consent and him actually kissing you was to smile like a kid who just got told they were getting dessert for dinner. Then he leaned in and kissed you gently. It might have been the fact that you were in a long dress and he was in a suit, but it felt like you were in a fairytale - the world around you quieted, the stars shining down on the two of you as if the universe had been waiting for this moment. The kiss was soft and delicate, Jeno never pressing to deepen it. Instead, he held onto you as though you were fragile, like any harsh movement would break everything, make it all disappear, and he would die before letting that happen.

When you break away, Jeno rests his forehead against yours, the two of you now caught up in soft smiles and laughter that you couldn’t be too obvious about. Though, almost immediately, they were calling for everyone to get together for the reveal of prom king and queen. You look up at Jeno through your eyelashes. “Should we go see if Jaemin’s won prom king?”

Jeno nods his head against yours. “Yeah, he’ll be looking for us after, anyways.” He replies, though he makes no effort to move. Instead, he sneaks in about a thousand small pecks at your lips until you turn back into a giggling mess.

“Okay, okay, stop!” You finally get out in between laughs, moving back from his figure to instead grab his hand and drag him with you towards the main floor of the venue. You typically weren’t one for holding hands, but now you’re sure it’s just because you’ve never held Jeno’s before. His fingers intertwined with your own like they finally found their home, and you know Jeno’s hand was the only one meant for yours. However, the second you meet back up with the big crowd facing the stage, you let his hand drop and he didn’t fight to keep them together, he couldn’t…you both knew that.

To no one’s surprise, Jaemin was crowned prom king. The entire crowd broke into cheers, but Jaemin just stood on stage and scanned the audience for you and Jeno, finally finding the two of you with a small smile on his lips to level out the brightest of smiles held in his eyes. You made eye contact with your brother and nodded softly before joining the rest of the crowd in clapping. Though in seconds, everyone’s attention was turned to the sky as fireworks were set off in celebration. With Jaemin still not off the stage, Jeno leaned down at his side so that his lips were by your ear, though his eyes stayed trained on the fireworks. “That’s what kissing you feels like.” He whispers, and your entire face heats up. You take your eyes off the fireworks to turn and look at him, giving him a playful shove.

“Shut up.” You say, but your words meant nothing amidst the smile on your face. Jeno just laughs, turning his attention back to the fireworks still going off. Though, he quietly grabbed your hand back in his, playing with your fingers as the rest of the fireworks kept everyone’s attention on the sky.

That was the last remotely romantic moment you had with Jeno.

Jaemin found you both after the fireworks ended, and the three of you hung around together for the rest of the night. You immediately hugged Jaemin once he made his way over to you. “Congrats on the win, king.” You say, and Jaemin just flashes you a proud smirk before leading you all away from the bigger crowds so you had space to actually breathe.

The dance ended an hour later and you all filed into Jaemin’s car so he could drive home. “That was actually a pretty nice night, yeah?” He asks, taking a glance over at you in the passenger seat and back to Jeno through the rear view mirror.

You nod your head in agreement as Jeno is the one to elaborate. “Yeah, my favorite part was the fireworks.” He responds cooly, but your face heats up. You had no clue if he was talking about the actual fireworks or the fireworks that he claims went off when you two kissed earlier that night, and you couldn’t risk turning around to look at him and figure it out in his gaze.

Instead, you just duck your head, idly messing with your fingers as you add on softly. “Yeah, the fireworks were nice.”

Jaemin stared over at you with a look in his eyes as though he were trying to figure you out. Being twins, it wasn’t really a surprise that he knew you sometimes better than you knew yourself, but it was instances like these where you wish he didn’t. Thankfully, if he found any deeper meaning to your words, he didn’t question it, instead just humming happily in agreement before going over his own favorite parts of the night.

Jeno ended up sleeping over with the excuse that your post-prom movie night ran too long - you and Jaemin told him that he should’ve planned on sleeping over from the start. Regardless, the next morning, you and Jeno ended up being the first ones awake. You walk out of your bedroom to see him in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a cup of coffee and idly scrolling on his phone. You smile at the sight of him in pajamas with messy hair, though you figure you looked about the same after just rolling out of bed.

“Hey.” You say, lightly enough to get his attention without risking waking up anyone else. His eyes snap onto your figure, a small smile coming onto his face as he begins to move.

“Hey, good morning. Do you want your coffee? I already made it - one cream, two sugars and all that.” He turns back to you with a smirk, a different mug in his hand now as his eyebrows raise in wait for your answer. He places his other hand around the actual mug to feel the temperature before nodding slightly. “It’s drinkable for you now.” He continues with a smile, sliding the mug over to where you’ve moved to stand on the other side of the counter. “Cause you know, you’re super scared of burning your tongue…even though the funny feeling goes away in like- a day.” He teases. “But anyways, I made it when I made mine so yours could cool down a bit until you got up.”

You duck your head, hiding a laugh. Jeno knew you a little too well sometimes, but you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t do the same in a reverse scenario - how he took his coffee was a fact far past memorized for you. “Thank you.” You say quietly, grabbing the mug from his hands and taking a sip with no hesitation. It was, in fact, your perfect cup of coffee. “How long have you been up?” You ask, and Jeno turns around to look at the clock on the microwave before doing math in his head.

“A little over thirty minutes. Your coffee hasn’t been waiting that long, I promise. It took me a while to convince myself to get out of bed.” He answers with a small laugh, and you flash your eyebrows in recognition as you take another sip.

With you and Jeno hanging out practically every day, there wasn’t much small talk you could ever make - nothing to catch up on when you were there to actually experience all his stories in the first place. So, you turn your head towards the backyard windows, looking out as you try and build up the courage to say what was actually on your mind. “Are we gonna talk about it?” You ask quietly, still not brave enough to look Jeno in the face and see his reaction.

You figure that was probably for the best when he replies neutrally. “About what?”

A stab to the heart was what that reply was, confusion coursing through your veins knowing he was the one begging to kiss you last night. You spent all these years helplessly pining after Jeno but he apparently kissed you just for fun - nothing that would matter the next morning, nothing to talk about. “Oh.” You say, trying your best not to sound hurt as you place your coffee back down on the counter. Without another word, you walk back upstairs to your room, passing by Jaemin who had just woken up.

“Good morning.” He says with his typical smile, but you stay staring at your feet in front of you.

“Morning.” You reply quietly, sure your voice would crack with tears if you dared speak any louder. Jaemin furrows his brows at your behavior, but before he can question anything, you’re already back in your room and behind closed doors. So instead, he continues with his walk downstairs to find a distraught Jeno and your unfinished cup of coffee sitting on the counter. Jaemin just sighs as he moves to start making his own coffee, praying that whatever it was that had the two of you bothered would work itself out in no time.

That never happened.

You started avoiding Jeno after that morning, hiding in your room whenever he would come over or making sure you had plans to get you out of the house entirely; anything to make yourself scarce. It was a stupid way to spend your last summer before college - hiding from your best friend, but you couldn’t help the fact that any reminder of him now hurt. You had spent too long crushing on Jeno just for him to string you along with one kiss and then pretend nothing happened. Truthfully, you would have rather him rejected you outright instead of ghosting over the subject and leaving you without closure.

After the first week of you blatantly avoiding Jeno, he too stopped trying to reach out - wouldn’t ask where you were headed as you left through the front door, wouldn’t knock on your bedroom door and ask if you wanted what Jaemin and himself just made for dinner, wouldn’t text and ask how your day went, wouldn’t say ‘hi’ in passing…all that was left of your relationship was the fact that he never left your mind and the way he would still stare after you with an unreadable expression whenever you walked away from him.

Jaemin let it go in the beginning, but soon enough he couldn’t bear the tension, nor the fact that now on any given day, he had to choose between hanging out with you or Jeno, when it used to be the three of you against the world. It was mid-summer when the two of you had gone out for ice cream one day. The entire outing was as normal as ever, but as Jaemin pulled in front of your house to park, he didn’t turn the car off right away. You look over at him in question as you unbuckle your seatbelt, but he just sighs.

“I know there’s something going on between you and Jeno,” he starts, and you sink back into your own seat. “But I also know you, so there’s no point in trying to figure out what happened because you’ll never tell me. But I just- are you okay?” He finishes, swinging his gaze over to you with a hint of worry in his eyes.

You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, instead just shaking your head and trying to make sure it shakes back your tears as well. “I don’t know.” You answer hoarsely. Nothing has felt normal since you and Jeno stopped talking, but the idea of facing him now filled you with anxiety. Jaemin leaned over to wrap you in an awkward hug and you finally let some tears fall in his embrace.

“Please just tell me Jeno isn’t the reason you’re going to a different university.” He says in a near whisper, and more things in your brain start to click. Before going to NCIT together was ever a plan between you, Jeno, and Jaemin, it was a plan between you and Jaemin. Choosing at the last minute to instead enroll elsewhere probably hurt Jaemin a lot more than he let on when you made the decision last month. Thankfully, you can at least reassure him that you weren’t letting a boy control your life…sort of.

“He’s not. You know this one has a better program for what I want to do anyways. Sure, the situation with Jeno didn’t necessarily help in convincing me to stick with our original plan, but maybe some actual time away from each other will help mend things.”

Jaemin breaks from the hug to resume a normal sitting position in his car, his hands idly fiddling with each other. “I’m sorry you two aren’t close anymore. I know- I know he meant a lot to you.”

You shake your head, using your palm to wipe away any remnants of tears as you reply. “Just the normal amount.” Your words come out weak, as though the lie could hardly care to exist in the first place. You swallow back the awkwardness that came with your words, wondering how well your brother was able to read you today. Though, dwelling on it wouldn’t do any good, so instead you turn to face Jaemin with intent, a few traces of guilt hidden within your features if you look hard enough. “I’m sorry you have to be caught in the middle of it.” You say, and Jaemin lets out a light sigh that you think was meant to be laughter.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve navigated it for half the summer already.” He says with a teasing smirk that finally gets the atmosphere to lighten. “Besides, some time apart will mend everything and we’ll be all good to go for our graduation trip, yeah?”

Despite yourself, a small smile comes onto your face. The three of you had been planning to spend a week in Hawaii after college graduation for almost as long as you could remember, and if there was one thing you weren’t going back on, it was a trip to Hawaii. “Yeah, that graduation trip stays as planned no matter what.” You reply, turning to face him so he could see your smile again. Jaemin nodded lightly, finally turning the car off as the two of you get out and head for the door.

Fast forward four years and time did not mend things, but your graduation trip stayed as planned. Neither you nor Jeno ever attempted to reach back out during college, but neither you nor Jeno had it in you to bow out of the graduation trip or even slightly alter the plans. So, when Jeno joined the two of you outside, loading Jaemin’s car with luggage, he sent a small ‘hi’ your way. You just nod in response. There was no way the two of you could go the entire trip without talking, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you were ready to act as though the last four years of radio silence didn’t happen. In fact, pretending things didn’t happen was the last thing you’ve been wanting this entire time.

Jeno lets out a soft sigh at your lack of a verbal response as you instead just slide into the back seat of the car. Jaemin comes around to place a comforting hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Give her time. It wasn’t just separate colleges that had the two of you grow apart, it was that entire last summer of purposefully avoiding each other. Before you’re upset that you can’t pick up where you left off, remember that 50% of the blame is your own. You stopped talking to her, too. Where you ‘left off’ was not as best friends.”

Jeno shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting us to be that close again.” He states plainly, and the tiniest of frowns flashes across Jaemin’s face before he motions for the two of them to get in the car as well, the ride to the airport filled entirely with music as you stared out the window.

On the airplane, Jaemin sat in the middle, with Jeno taking the aisle and you the window seat. For a while, all three of you were doing your own separate things, but about an hour and a half into the flight, Jaemin pulled out the nintendo switch, propping it up on the tray table and switching his gaze back and forth between you and Jeno with raised, expectant eyebrows. You wave him off, turning your attention back to the window as Jeno is the one to take the other controller from Jaemin’s hands. Together, they played through three circuits of mariokart before Jaemin finally turned it off and started trying to fall asleep, laying his head against your shoulder.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later when you feel a tap on your thigh. You quickly turn your attention from the window to the touch, tracing it back up to Jeno. He had booted up the switch again, mariokart waiting on the multiplayer home screen. You look back down to see one of the remotes held out for you in the hand that had gained your attention in the first place. You turn back to look at him; his eyes were wide in anticipation but he looked small as he silently asked for you to play with him. You breathe out a soft sigh, taking the remote from his hand before turning back to him. “I’m going to beat your ass.” You whisper over Jaemin’s head. Jeno turns to face the console rather than you to try and cover up the wide smile that your familiar tease placed on his lips. Unbeknownst to the two of you, the corners of Jaemin’s lips perked up in a grin, too, before he quickly started back on his attempt at falling asleep.

You must have played through every map with Jeno, with it unfortunately being a toss up for who took first on any given circuit. You finally hand him the remote back as he shuts the console down and situates himself so that he can fall asleep, too. You resumed your previous task of staring out the window and listening to music, Jaemin asleep on your shoulder and Jeno on his. Life wasn’t back to normal by a long shot, but a trip to Hawaii wasn’t necessarily normal either - so maybe despite it all, it was going to be okay.

Hours later, the three of you step into the hotel room which might as well have been a house. Three separate bedrooms and bathrooms for each of you, all connected by a kitchen and living room. With you not getting any sleep on the flight, you immediately started on unpacking and getting ready for bed. Meanwhile, Jaemin and Jeno just threw their bags on the floor and headed down to the bar in the lobby, a common way to kill time that they picked up back in college.

The next day, the dynamic was much the same. The guys hung around the beach and bar all day while you went for a bike ride down the coast, got a massage, randomly joined the hotel’s ping pong tournament where you were probably too excited to crush a thirteen year old in the finals, and remained pool-side for the rest of the first day.

When you finally met back up with Jaemin and Jeno, it was for dinner. You were given free drink coupons for winning the ping pong tournament, so you all decided to eat at the hotel restaurant just off the shore. You don’t think you had ever seen the boys as confused as when you told them the story behind the coupons, but they weren’t going to question it if it meant you were willing to share the free drinks with them.

Dinner itself was still awkward. It was either you talking to Jaemin or Jeno talking to Jaemin, and the other would pretend to be really invested in their food during the other’s conversation. Though, Jaemin didn’t seem bothered. At least, he didn’t push for the two of you to finally get over it and resolve the tension. So, you didn’t, and dinner became a game of you and Jeno trying to avoid eye contact at all costs.

Regardless, the night quickly came to a close, and when the opportunity arose to join Jaemin and Jeno on the living room couch and watch Forensic Files, you politely declined and turned on the TV in your own bedroom instead.

Trying to finally fall asleep around midnight would have been a lot easier if it didn’t decide to storm so horrendously. The lightning lit up everything around you as the thunder shook the room violently - or maybe it was just you that was violently shaking. You were never good with storms; they have always terrified you since you were little. Currently, this one had you curled up in a ball sitting atop your bed, silent tears rushing down your cheeks.

It was maybe twenty minutes into the storm when your bedroom door cracked open. You quickly wipe stray tears off your face as you look up to meet the presence standing meekly in the doorframe, their head turned down to face the floor. You knew the silhouette’s body frame, though, and it wasn’t Jaemin’s.

“Jeno?” You ask hoarsely.

Slowly, he brings his gaze up to meet yours, sucking on his bottom lip in hesitation before he speaks. “Are you still scared of storms?” He asks softly.

You freeze, wiping your eyes once more to make sure your face was clear of tears. “N-no.” You stammer out, voice cracking as you do. For some reason, Jeno just lets out a light exhale of laughter.

“You would be more convincing if you weren’t sitting in a ball and shaking.” He remarks more playfully. You just drop your face to stare into your knees, not wanting to look at him as you reply with words you couldn’t come back from.

“Please, just- come here.” You say in a near whisper, though Jeno picks up on it immediately. He finally moves from the door frame, stepping inside your room, shutting the door behind him, and joining you on top of your bed.

He sat beside you, less than a foot away but making sure not to touch you. Despite the fact that it was a considerate gesture, it felt kind of stupid seeing as all your interactions used to start and end with the biggest hugs; and now here you were, needing comfort, and Jeno was scared to touch you.

“How can I help take your mind off of it?” He asks, and you just shake your head. All this time, and you never figured out much to do other than wait it out in fear. That’s when another bout of lightning strikes, the crack of thunder feeling like it came from right behind you. Immediately, you flinch and start crying some more, and without spending too much time thinking about it, you lean into Jeno’s body at your left.

His breath hitches for the smallest of moments before he immediately wraps your balled figure in his arms, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. “Hey, it’s okay.” He says softly. You shake off his attempt to calm you down.

“I’m terrified, Jeno.” You mumble out weakly, and Jeno just takes a deep breath before pulling you closer to him.

“I know, but I got you.”

At his words, some tension leaves your body. All this time avoiding each other but still all you knew to do was trust Jeno. One of his hands remains running up and down your back, the other tightly wrapped around your body as you speak into his chest. “Were you still awake, too?” You ask, and you feel Jeno shake his head.

“No, but the second the storm woke me up, all I could think about was you and whether or not you were able to fall asleep before it started. I mean, you sleep through this stuff like a rock, but if you aren’t already sleeping when it starts, all you do is shake. I just- needed to come make sure you were okay, or…” He drags off for a second, sucking on his bottom lip as he stares down at you in his arms. “At least, not alone.”

You let out a heavy breath, not able to tell if you were more mad at the fact that Jeno knew you so well or that something like a storm made you panic and put you in this situation in the first place. “It’s stupid. I’m twenty-two years old. I shouldn’t be scared of storms anymore.”

“Y/n,” he says, but his soft tone comes with a bite of seriousness. “It’s not stupid. You don’t expect someone who’s afraid of spiders or snakes to ever get over it, no matter how old they are. It’s not childish to be afraid of something. Don’t put yourself in some weird double-standard.”

You shake your head that’s still buried in his chest. “Those are spiders and snakes - almost everyone finds those scary. These are storms.” You scoff, but Jeno cuts you off there.

He unravels one arm from around your body to instead place his hand under your chin and direct your tear-glazed gaze back to him, making sure you could see he was serious as he replied. “And they’re scary to you, which is all that matters to me.”

You quickly begin to cry again, this time because of his words rather than the storm. Your arms let go from their grip around your curled up legs so you can instead wrap them around Jeno’s waist and bury your head back into his chest. He just holds you closer in response, speaking into your hair. “We’ll wait it out together, yeah?” He prompts, but before you could even reply, he’s back to rubbing comforting circles on your skin, not giving you much of a choice.

He holds you in silence for a little bit, an innumerable amount of thoughts plaguing both of your minds as the storm still raged outside. However, when Jeno couldn’t remember the last big strike of lightning, he began to shift in his spot, an arm unraveling from your body. “I think it’s died down-”

That was as far as he got before he felt your arm grab his wrist and wrap it back around your body. In the darkness, he let the brightest smile reach his face, taking a moment to squeeze you extra tight. That’s when more lightning hit and your figure began to tremble in his arms again, the smallest of whimpers escaping you. Jeno let out a soft sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere.” He says smoothly. Though, as he shuffles slightly to check the time on his watch, he lets out a small exhale of laughter. “But you have to keep me entertained then. What’s new?” He asks playfully, but the question surprises you. New? Nothing on your mind was about anything new in your life and you couldn’t bring yourself to find anything new to talk about. So instead, you squeeze your eyes shut and build up the courage to address the one thing that was very much not new.

“Jeno, what was that all about when we were eighteen?” You ask, the words coming out more firm than any of your others so far that night.

Jeno’s arms around you stiffen, and he manages to let out a wry laugh. “Do you still think about that?” He asks in return, and you swear you could feel the knife through your chest this time.

“Every day. Am I not supposed to? Did that not matter to you?” You shoot back, finding more emotion with every word.

Jeno sighs deeply. “Y/n, nothing’s ever mattered to me more than that night…except maybe this one if I can get it right.” He speaks softly, hesitantly, as though he were scared of saying something wrong. He hasn’t yet, though. All he’s done is confuse you.

“What?” You ask, matching his voice level. Jeno shakes his head and you think he’s shutting off completely, but instead he just picks you up from out of the hug and places you so that you’re sitting face-to-face with him. Surprising you, he reaches out his hands and starts idly playing with your fingers. His head was dropped to face his lap, it was like having your touch was his last strength. Then he starts talking.

“Y/n, you’ve kept my heart and mind occupied for the last four years - before that, really. Long before that. The moment I understood what a crush was, I had a crush on you. All that tiny-me wanted to do was hold your hand.” As he says this, he ceases fiddling with your fingers to instead intertwine them with his own; staring at the interlocked hands with a weak grin before promptly pulling away again and dropping his hands to rest in front of his lap. “Um- but I couldn’t because of course that was the one thing Jaemin told me not to do. I couldn’t get involved with you. So, I didn’t, and I pretended to be interested in other girls in high school so that he wouldn’t get suspicious. But then that prom theme was announced and I found my one in - a stupid one, but an in. That was my one chance to do something about the ache in my chest all those years. Except, it really didn’t fix anything at all. We kissed and I haven’t known a day of peace since - my lips long for yours every second of every day. I didn’t date at all in college. Jaemin would tease me about the fact that I was one-half of the hot duo of best friends but never managed to get with a girl, and I didn’t know how to tell him my heart was already yours - that it’s been yours longer than it’s been mine.”

Suddenly, Jeno was making your world slow down again. His smooth voice saying words you didn’t know you needed to hear, bringing light to the dustiest corners of your heart, making you feel whole again, and yet, none of it made sense. “Then why- that morning- why…?” That was all you could get out before the tears previously pricking at the corners of your eyes began to speed down your cheeks. You didn’t need to finish your question though. Jeno knew exactly what you were getting at, and he was already preparing himself to address it before you even brought it up.

He shakes his head slowly, defeated as he draws back on the past. “I was a stupid eighteen year old kid. Every night, I go back to that morning and think about what I could’ve done differently - what I should’ve done. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret letting you walk away. The truth is, I was terrified. I didn’t want to lose either you or Jaemin, and I didn’t know how to address what happened without risking doing so; which feels stupid to say because acting how I did was a direct path to losing you. I never gave either of us the chance for closure and then lost you anyways. Every day since, I wanted to reach out, ask how you were, beg for you to let me back into your life, but I struggled with thinking I was worthy of that in the slightest. I still haven’t forgiven myself for it, I don’t think I deserve to. I don’t ever want to be okay with the fact that I let you walk away from me. I want to make sure I can never make that mistake again. That morning, I thought I could have my cake and eat it, too. I got to kiss you but I never had to let it get out and make Jaemin hate me. I was selfish when I decided not to talk about it that day. That’s the all of it. I was selfish. Which is funny because I was selfish when I asked to kiss you, too. I just don’t know how the same state of being could lead to the best thing I’ve ever done and the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

By the time he finished talking, silent tears were running down his face as well. You had never seen him as broken as he looked before you now, and when lightning flashed through the entire room and thunder rumbled through you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could care about was Jeno.

“So, if we went back-” You start, but Jeno had already whipped his head up to face you, his sure gaze looking out of place amidst his tear-stained face.

“I would’ve told you we could talk about it whenever you wanted - whenever you were ready, and if it was that very second, I would’ve started explaining. Every time you’ve made my heart race and my stupid plan that formed the second I heard the theme for prom. How kissing you truly was like fireworks going off and it drove me crazy in all the best ways. How I want to be able to kiss you again and again if you’d let me, and that when Jaemin inevitably finds out, I’d take the blame for everything, but the last thing I’d do is apologize for it. I’d never apologize for loving you, the opposite, actually; I’d shout it out to the streets, people would be tired of hearing how much I care about you.” He manages to let the smallest of laughs play on his lips, but his gaze drops back down to his lap as embarrassment flushes his cheeks. “I mean- I don’t even know if you liked me back, but if you did, that would have been the last time you ever woke up without a goodmorning kiss from me.”

You let out a light sigh, facing the comforter to hide the weak smile that painted its way across your face. When you finally pick your head back up, your arm moves up with it. Gently, you place a hand on Jeno’s cheek, thumb moving to wipe at the tears under his eyes as you guide his gaze back to you. The two of you held eye contact, your breathing and the rain outside being the only sounds to fill the room before you spoke up with a small encouraging nod. “Jeno, it’s okay to forgive yourself.” You say softly, and you watch as Jeno breaks.

His soft, silent tears turned into him bawling his eyes out, and you watch as he leaned forward, grabbing for you, hiding his face in the fabric of your shirt as his tears stain your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him tightly, occasionally running a hand through his hair as you wait for his sobs to stop.

When he finally calms down, he pulls back from the hug again, wiping his face clean of tears, and dodging your eye contact. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles out, but you shake your head.

“I forgave you a long time ago...way before I wanted to, but I couldn't help it.” You say seriously, and Jeno finds the strength to meet your gaze again, enough for you to see the shock and question in his eyes. “I wanted to reach out, but I just- never knew how to begin again after all of that.” You continue solemnly.

Jeno nods his head in contemplation, but soon enough, a small hopeful smile accompanies his features again. “We can start like this.” He says softly. Then he picks you up, turning you around and placing you back down on his lap, his arms wrapping around your torso from behind as his chin rests on your shoulder. “Tell me everything I missed from the last four years.” He prompts, and at every point where you could have fought back, you don’t. Instead, a grin spreads across your face and you just start talking.

Jeno listens to you talk for what seemed like an hour at least, and in turn you do the same as he recounts every story from college that Jaemin hadn’t already told you…and some that he had - if it was a crime to enjoy listening to Jeno talk, then so be it. Though, once you caught each other up to speed, neither of you were content with heading to bed. Instead, you continued to talk about everything imaginable. The storm outside could have raged on, you weren’t aware. The only worry you had was whether you and Jeno were laughing so loud that it would wake up Jaemin.

Eventually, the two of you had moved so that Jeno’s legs were laid out in front of him and your head was on his lap as you lay down perpendicular to his figure. You were in the middle of talking about obscure superpowers you would want, and why your choice was much better than Jeno’s. You rambled for who knows how long, but you finally look up to meet Jeno’s soft gaze, a corner of his mouth perked up in a smirk that you couldn’t describe as anything else but fond. Immediately, you cut yourself off, furrowing your brows at Jeno as you change the subject. “Stop looking at me like that.” You say, and Jeno seems to visibly snap back to the present moment.

“Like what?” He questions genuinely, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Like you want to kiss me.” You reply plainly.

Jeno lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I do want to kiss you, it’s not just a look.” He says, taking one of his hands to brush your hair out of your face.

You sigh, turning your head away to face the wall rather than him. “Jeno, I can’t fold that quickly. Not after four years of building up walls.” You say in a near whisper.

His smirk fades as he purses his lips, hurt flashing across his features as he thinks back on the past four years. He swallows harshly, still running his fingers through your hair as he responds. “I know. I’m not asking you to. It’s my fault they’re there in the first place. You just asked what my look was about, so I figured I should tell you. I’ll try not to make it so obvious. I don’t mean to make things awkward between us now.”

As he finishes talking, you move to face him again, brows furrowed in confusion and you realize you never addressed one specific thing he said. “Jeno, you won’t make things awkward between us. You said you don’t know if I even liked you back during senior year but- Jeno, I’ve had a crush on you for forever. I’ve always liked you back. I liked you back before I even knew I was liking you ‘back.’ I didn’t care - you were everything I ever wanted growing up, and though you’re an idiot sometimes, you still are.” At your words, tension visibly leaves Jeno’s body, small smiles teasing at both your lips as you make eye contact.

“Y/n, I know we’re still getting over years of hurt, and my actions meant you had it a lot worse but- if you really mean it, I’ll wait forever for your walls to come down again. It’s just you for me.”

You sit back upright again, facing Jeno and trying not to think about how red your face felt and therefore probably was. “Just give me a little bit of time. When I get tired of you staring at me like that and not actually kissing me, I’ll talk to Jaemin. It’ll be a much easier conversation for him to have with me than if it were with you. Then the second he agrees to get rid of his stupid rule, I’m running right to you and kissing your pretty lips. Just give me some more time to heal.”

Jeno nods, his crescent-eyed smile revealing itself for the first time since the trip started. “You have all the time in the world.” He reassures, but you just laugh a little bit, not missing an opportunity to tease him.

“Well, I should probably figure things out before we’re old and gray. ‘All the time in the world’ might not be the best-” He cuts you off, shaking his head.

“Nope. Not a problem. Not when time stops while I’m with you.” He replies confidently, and you freeze as your teasing attempt gets turned on its head.

“Oh, shut up.” You say playfully, and when Jeno’s cheeks puff out as he smiles in response, you don’t think twice before leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to one of them. You immediately dodge eye contact as you pull back, but Jeno doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. He grabs at one of your hands, pulling your body back to face him and his stupid perfect smile.

“I so got you.” He says, but instead of a hint of arrogance covering his words, they’re spoken as though he can’t believe his luck. You duck your head, laughing a little.

“Give me time - if not to get over my hurt then at least to build up courage to talk to Jaemin. Besides, I’d like to spend some more time with you under the best-friend label again anyways. I’ve missed it.” You say, and Jeno nods, already on the same wavelength as you.

You don’t question it when the best-friend label looks a little different the rest of the night than it has in the past. Neither you nor Jeno had any intention of going to bed anymore, but that didn’t change the fact that laying down was the comfiest position, and if that came with Jeno spooning you as you both continued to talk about every topic in existence, well…you were just really close best friends.

When you look over at the nightstand and realize a bright 6:28 on the clock is facing you back, you figure it was an acceptable time to actually start the morning. “You wanna go make coffee?” You ask plainly. You had reached the point where you’ve been without sleep for so long that it felt like you were fully energized again, completely ready to start the day. Jeno seemed to have been the same way, because your regular tone as opposed to your previously light, soft statements didn’t faze him. Although, he seemed thoroughly against your idea of getting up, shaking his head as he spoke.

“I can’t hold you if we’re out there.” He says through a pout, causing you to laugh. The two of you managed to find your way back to sitting up during the early hours of the morning, and he currently had you locked in your position on his lap, with no intentions of letting go.

You run your hands over his arms around you, the light touch sending shivers throughout Jeno’s body. “You’ve held me for the past six hours. I think you should be sick of it by now.” You reply playfully, but Jeno just raises his eyebrows in suspicion.

“Are you sick of it yet?” He teases, and all you can do is purse your lips because you knew he just won.

Instead of giving him an answer, you just start trying to unravel his arms from around your body. “Not relevant.” You say through a smile. “Come on, Jen. Let’s make coffee.”

Within milliseconds, Jeno has let you go and is up off the bed. “Okay! Let’s go!” He replies in a rush. You stare at him in confusion, wondering what had him flip so quickly.

“Are you okay?” You ask with a laugh. Jeno just gives you the biggest crescent-eyed smile.

“You called me ‘Jen.’”

Your eyebrows remain raised, though now it’s more so because of skepticism rather than confusion. “You’re all giddy because I took one letter off your name?” You question, and Jeno just ducks his head to avoid eye contact with you. You roll your eyes instead. “Remind me in the future not to give you any pet names. Not if you’re already like this over ‘Jen.’” You tease, but Jeno shoots his head back up to look at you, betrayal crossing his features. You let out a light laugh. “I’m kidding. Let’s go.” You say, and Jeno finds his smile again as he grabs your hand to pull you out of bed, your fingers instantly falling from each other the second you open your bedroom door and step into the living area.

Jeno motions for you to sit down at the table while he makes his way behind the counter and to the coffee machine. You watch as he grabs two mugs, and you know he’s starting on making your coffee first so it can cool down a bit while his own brews. You study his figure intently, a grateful smile coming onto your face as you duck your head, taking in the fact that this was another chance at the morning after prom, except this time, you’ve already done all the talking; now he just gets to make coffee and keep your already full heart company.

You think the second coffee was halfway through brewing by the time you look back up towards Jeno. You freeze when you realize he was already staring at you, his features soft. He can’t stop the smile, nor the blush, from coming onto his face as you look back at him, and he immediately directs his attention back to the coffee machine, shaking his head as his smile grows bigger the more he dwells on the moment, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you were, this time thanking his lucky stars that you were still sitting there smiling back at him.

Soon, it was just you and Jeno sitting across from each other, drinking coffee, watching the sun rise through the window, occasionally kicking each other’s feet underneath the table, and continuing with your never ending conversation. You were on your second round of coffee, Jeno on his third, when another bedroom door opens and Jaemin walks out lazily. Your face falls into concern as you fade out of your conversation with Jeno. “Hey, Jaem. Sorry if we were the reason you woke up.” You say genuinely, but he shakes it off.

“No, you’re all good. There was just some laughing that-” He cuts himself off, finally seeming to focus his attention on the scene in front of him. “Laughing? You guys are talking?” He questions, his tired expression immediately off his face.

You and Jeno share matching smiles as you stare back at Jaemin. “We were both up early and decided maybe holding grudges was not the thing to do in paradise.” Jeno replies, taking a moment to move his gaze from Jaemin and back over to you softly. You miss it though, just nodding along with his words as you watch relief wash over your brother.

“Thank god.” He breathes out with a laugh, getting you and Jeno to chuckle as well. Immediately, Jaemin is grabbing his own coffee and sitting down with you both, hardly caring about it not even being eight in the morning yet because his best friends were back.

The three of you sat around the table drinking too much coffee for about another hour before deciding to go on a walk along the coast. Jaemin was still in the middle, with you and Jeno and either end, but it was no longer to stifle the tension. Instead, conversation flowed as it always had between the three of you since you were five years old. Suddenly, the idea of having maybe canceled on the graduation trip just because Jeno was going to be here felt nauseating. This was how it was always meant to be, the three of you together and Jaemin at least playing the part of oblivious to the feelings you and Jeno could hardly suppress. Truthfully, there was no reason for Jaemin to be suspicious. Looking at the bigger picture, if he hadn’t suspected something was up during your high school years, there’s no way he would be able to tell that those very same feelings were still very much there.

When Jaemin suggested lunch a few hours later, you politely declined. “I actually think I’m gonna go up to the room and take a nap for a bit.” You say casually, though Jaemin looks at you as if you had two heads.

“A nap? You never take naps.” He shoots back in confusion. You let out a small laugh, knowing he wasn’t wrong, but then you bring your gaze back up to meet his own with a light shake of your head.

“I didn’t sleep because of the storm last night, so I’m pretty exhausted still.” You reply, but the confusion doesn’t leave Jaemin’s face.

“It stormed last night?!” He questions, apparently having slept through any trace of it. You and Jeno let out a laugh, nodding your heads.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.” You answer, and Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in recognition before he turns back to you with worry in his eyes.

“Were you okay?” He asks, hints of guilt in his voice knowing how badly storms scared you while he was just sleeping peacefully through it. You quickly rid him of any worry, though, a small smile coming onto your face as you nod.

“Yeah,” you start softly, and it takes everything in you to not look over at Jeno and surely give away what exactly happened last night. “I was okay.”

Jaemin’s shoulders visibly lose tension as he takes in your positive answer, then he nods his head. “Okay. Well, you can go back up to the room, then. Text us whenever you wake up and we’ll let you know where we’re at-” He says, but Jeno jumps in.

“Actually, Jaemin, I think a few more hours of sleep would do wonders for me, too.” He says with a chuckle. The statement surprises both you and Jaemin, though Jeno continues without missing a beat. “Would you be okay if I went up to the room for a bit, too?”

Whereas you were worried Jaemin would start putting things together, he just shrugged, his reply full of sarcasm. “Oh no, I’m alone in paradise and the bar has already opened for the day.” He says with raised uninterested eyebrows. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The three of you share a bit of laughter before you and Jeno break from Jaemin to go back up to the hotel. You waste no time in slipping right back into pajamas and under the covers, your fatigue fully hitting once you were actually laying down again. Within seconds though, your bedroom door opens and in comes Jeno, pajamas adorning his figure as well. He wastes no time in making his way directly next to you in bed. You just watch as he immediately clings to you, wrapping an arm around your torso and shutting his eyes tight. You let out a small laugh - you should’ve known. “You’re an idiot.” You say playfully, and Jeno opens his eyes back up to stare at you with a pout.

“So, I can’t stay?” He asks, almost completely in defeat if you couldn’t pick up on the hint of playfulness he also shared in his tone.

You roll your eyes, speaking plainly. “You can, but we’re actually sleeping this time. You’re the reason I’m so tired in the first place.”

With your positive response, Jeno instantly pulled you closer to him, but he doesn’t let you take a stab at him that easily. “That wasn’t me, that was the storm.” He replies confidently, but you can practically see the smirk adorning his face, regardless of you being turned away from him. You shake your head with a smile, flipping around in his arms so that he was forced on his back, with you taking up half of his chest so you could face him.

His familiar smirk was, in fact, painted across his lips, a slight tease in his eyes as he stared back at you. All at once, a wave of extreme consciousness hits you and you realize the only reason you moved to face him was because you were fully intending to kiss him after his remark. You feel your face go beet red and you immediately hide it in his chest. Jeno was oblivious to the internal battle you had put yourself through, figuring this was just how you wanted to sleep. He gently ran one hand through your hair before wrapping both his arms around your body and humming contently against the top of your head.

You instantly decide that you couldn’t look back up and face Jeno right now, so you accept the fact that you were going to fall asleep listening to the drumbeat of his heart. What surprises you is the fact that, for as long as you were awake, his heart rate never seemed to calm down; and what you didn’t know is that he looked at you sound asleep in his arms for far too long before he could convince himself that it may be worth missing this moment in front of him to actually get some sleep, too.

When you eventually wake up, you haven’t moved an inch from where you fell asleep on Jeno’s chest. His breathing was still stable, and a peek up at him confirmed he was still sleeping. A soft smile forms on your face at the sight of him, his hair all messy again from being against the pillow and making him look extra cute rather than hot and bothersome. You move your gaze over to the clock on the nightstand, letting you know that you had been asleep for almost two hours, and you figure the most important thing to do was step out from your bedroom and make sure Jaemin didn’t come back to the hotel and realize Jeno wasn’t in his own room.

So, you snake out of Jeno’s arms, trying your best not to wake him up. His arms fall from around you to on top of his own chest, but it doesn’t seem to disturb him, and you take that as a sign to continue silently sneaking out of your bedroom. You do a quick check around the hotel room, breathing a little easier seeing that none of it seemed touched by your brother recently. However, looking at your phone, you’re greeted with unread messages from Jaemin, asking how long you were going to be out for and if you all could catch the movie night on the shore that the hotel was hosting later on.

You shoot back a text saying that you just woke up and would go bother Jeno until he was out of bed, too, adding on that the movie night sounded great. Then, you make your way back to your room to actually go bother Jeno until he woke up.

However, bothering him looked a lot different than how you would typically bother Jaemin. Gently, you let your fingers glide through his hair, his soft hums in response causing you to smile. You move your hand down to instead brush against his cheek, and knowing that he was awake, though he had yet to open his eyes, you start talking softly. “Hey, you ready to get up?” You ask, though it wasn’t much of a question.

Jeno shakes his head, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Not really. How long has it been?” He asks, his voice low and grainy, and suddenly you’re glad he hasn’t opened his eyes yet to see how red your face has gotten because of it.

“Almost two hours.” You reply lightly, and Jeno takes an extra long inhale just to let out a deep sigh. “Come on, Jen.” You continue, gently rubbing your across his cheek. At the nickname, Jeno finally gives in, peeking one eye open to look at you before his face turns red and he opens both eyes with a small smile. “What?” You question with furrowed brows.

Jeno shakes his head. “Nothing. I just- like you being the first thing I see when I wake up.” He says through his smile, and you just roll your eyes.

“You’re really bad at being just a best friend.” You tease, and Jeno’s smile turns playful.

“I’d say ‘I’ll work on it,’ but I’m not trying to be just a best friend long enough for it to matter.” He replies, and the blush races to cover your face again, too.

“You’re actually the worst.” You shoot back, the grin still on your face.

Jeno smirks at you, but the look in his eyes is fond. “You don’t mean that.” He counters, and you drop your head to face your lap, knowing he wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever.” You say with a laugh as you turn to start exiting your room again. “Please get out of bed before Jaemin gets bored and comes back to the room. He’s already texted me asking how long we’ll be. And I’m serious, going back up to the room to take a nap while I did is the last suspicious thing you can do on this trip.”

Jeno matches your laugh, putting his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, fine. But it’s not my fault you’re the prettiest girl in the world. What am I supposed to do? Not have the biggest crush on you? That’s not an option.”

You freeze and slowly bring your body back around to face Jeno. The instant your gaze meets his easy smirk, your head is facing the floor and your tongue darts out to lick your lips for a moment as you convince yourself not to give in with every breath. He lets out a heavy exhale that was meant to be laughter as he finally slides out of bed and walks up to where you were, placing the lightest kiss on the top of your head. “That’ll be the last of it.” He says softly, then making his way to freshen up before the two of you meet with Jaemin again.

To your surprise, Jeno followed instructions well. The rest of the night included zero stolen touches or longing stares. Instead, it reflected any given night from your high school careers, and while you still could hardly stand the ache in your chest that popped up any time you were around Jeno, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world, because the three of you were happy all at the same time again - only slightly aided by the gelato in your hands and the old Disney movie projected on the screen set up by the shore.

It was sometime after midnight when you all finally got back to the hotel room, and as Jaemin showered, Jeno stood at your bedroom door and begged for you to let him sneak in during the night and sneak back out early the next morning. You stared at him in disinterest, or at least tried to. “I’m not letting you sleep with me while Jaemin is across the hall. I’m sure you can control yourself for one night, Jeno.” You say, figuring starting out with ‘one night’ would be more effective than telling him he’d have to control himself for a huge chunk of the foreseeable future.

Jeno pouted, but when you just raise your eyebrows at him in response, he knows he’s lost, slumping back over to his own room and leaving you to get ready for the night.

It was a little after breakfast the next morning when you all found yourselves back at the beach. The two boys stayed lounging on the chairs in the sand, claiming they were waiting for the sun to actually come out and heat up the ocean a bit before they would get in. You rolled your eyes at them, entering the water with ease as you spent some time by yourself.

“Jeno, you’re staring at my sister.” Jaemin’s even voice cuts through the air, bringing Jeno back to reality and making him conscious of the fact that he truly was staring at you. Instead of getting embarrassed, he lets out a small defeated laugh.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to stare at her…just getting used to having her in my life again.” Jeno didn’t care if his statement implied that he would previously stare at you all of the time, too - he was tired of lying anyways. Jaemin just nods slowly, moving his gaze from Jeno and over to you some distance away in the water.

“You know, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I know it was your fault.” Jaemin continues, his tone not giving any hint as to his emotions. There was no playful tease hidden in his statement, nor was there even a trace of contempt. For the first time, Jeno thought, Jaemin was unreadable, and he didn’t know how to take it.

“Ouch.” Jeno replies through an exhale meant to double as laughter.

“Am I wrong?” Jaemin asks casually.

Jeno shoots his gaze somewhere off to the side, his face finally losing the bits of playfulness he tried so hard to keep in the situation. “...no.” He replied in almost a whisper, and Jaemin lets something of a grimace cross his features.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze constantly shifting between you and Jeno before it falls to face his own lap with a sigh. “Don’t hurt her again.” He finally says monotonously, but the mention of ‘again’ has Jeno whipping his head towards him. Jaemin dodges his gaze, just continues speaking. “That’s always been the one reason to have that stupid rule since we were kids. I don’t have anything against you. You’re my best friend. I trust you probably more than anyone with her.” He says, and it’s then that he lifts his gaze to stare back at a wide-eyed Jeno, making sure he could tell he was serious as he continued. “I just don’t want her getting hurt, and I knew no one would hurt her as much as you if things went wrong.”

Jeno swallows hard, he couldn’t tell if the weight of the world was currently falling off of his shoulders or crashing onto them. The shock he previously bore on his face almost immediately falls into remorse as he thinks about Jaemin’s words. “I’m sorry for hurting her the first time.” He says firmly, this time Jeno being the one to make sure Jaemin could feel the sincerity of his statement.

To Jeno’s surprise, Jaemin finally lets out a small laugh to accompany his nod, directing his gaze back to you in the ocean. “I know.” He replies, and a wave of relief washes over Jeno as he’s able to crack a small grateful smile, too. Though, some parts of Jaemin’s words were still poking at the back of Jeno’s mind.

“How long have you known that I liked her?” He asks weakly, dreading how many more stupid past decisions he had no reason to make as a futile attempt to hide his feelings - how many lies he didn’t need to tell, should Jaemin have already known anyway.

Jaemin dispels his worry, shaking his head. “Part of me saw it as inevitable, so there was always a gut feeling, but I never knew how you felt towards her with any confidence while we were growing up. It’s just- two best friends don’t stop talking immediately after prom for no reason. I figured feelings finally had to have gotten involved that night.” Jeno nods his head solemnly, opening his mouth to reply but Jaemin cuts him off. “Don’t apologize again.” He says with a laugh as Jeno flicks his gaze back up to him. “I don’t want to hear another apology and I don’t want to know what happened. Just- don’t hurt her again, that’s all I ask.”

Jeno’s gaping mouth turns into a soft understanding smile, and he looks back out to finally face you again. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jeno debated telling you about his conversation with Jaemin for the rest of vacation. The second it happened, he wanted to run right to you, tell you that Jaemin wouldn’t mind if the two of you were together, and immediately make you his girl. However, he knew that you really wanted to have your own eventual conversation about it with Jaemin, and when you decide you’re ready to have said conversation and move things along with Jeno was not his own call to make. So, he kept it to himself, but now when he would stare at you as though you were the entire world, it wasn’t Jaemin’s attention he was afraid of catching, it was yours…cause the last thing he was going to do was break his promise to you about suspicious stuff.

That of course meant that for the rest of vacation, you were clueless as to what had put such a giant, permanent grin on Jeno’s face. His crescent-eyed smile was more present than ever, and for the boy who you came to learn knew no anger, it was starting to seem like he knew nothing but happiness at all - how were you to know that you were the reason why?

You were expecting the day after you got back from Hawaii to be boring at best, with nothing to do but unpack your luggage…and maybe also your feelings. You dreaded the idea of putting away over a week’s worth of clothes knowing that this closet wasn’t part of some hotel in Ko’Olina, but your own home.

However, Jaemin quickly saved you from the torture, standing in the doorway and waiting for you to turn your attention to him. The second you realize he’s there, you turn off your music, facing him again with expectant eyebrows…which strangely matched his own. He had a smirk painted across his lips as he leaned against the doorframe and you had a gut-feeling you wouldn’t like where this was going.

“Are you going to talk to me about Jeno yet?” He asks casually, and your stomach drops as your eyes widen. You quickly return your attention to folding the laundry on your bed.

“What about Jeno?” You reply with a light laugh, trying to play it cool, but Jaemin just shakes his head, finally moving towards you with more intent.

“Y/n, I’ve watched you fall in love with him every time he’s walked through our front door since we were five.” He replies, the statement falling from his lips as though he didn’t even have to think about it - cause he wasn’t lying. Your face drops and your hands fall idly at your side rather than messing with your clothes.

“I’m not in love with him.” You say weakly, but you knew better, too. You could feel the way your face would glow every time you laid eyes on him, and Jaemin knew you even better than you knew yourself. Whatever defense you could build, he’s already seen right through.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you were, you know?”

You freeze at his words, sighing deeply before turning to look at your brother. “Jaem, are you trying to get me to tell you things you already know?” You watch as a small grin reaches his face again.

“It would be nice to hear it from you, yeah.”

You shake your head, quickly losing the courage to look at him. “I don’t understand why you’re not mad. What you’re trying to get me to admit is the exact thing you made rules against.”

Jaemin rolls his lips inward before shaking his head. “Yeah well, being mad at my sister is not my favorite thing in the world, so I try to avoid it unless absolutely necessary.” He says lightly, but when you still can’t meet his gaze, he sighs, adding on. “This is not one of those times…Besides, what I was trying to prevent in making that rule has already happened despite it, so it doesn’t much matter now.”

You process Jaemin’s words with pursed lips. “You didn’t want me getting hurt.” You softly claim, though you let it hang as a question for Jaemin to confirm.

“No, I didn’t. Though, since it’s already happened and you seemed to have made it through just fine, I’d rather not care about whether or not you’re hurt as much as whether or not you’re happy.”

You finally turn to look back at your brother again, his eyebrows raised expectantly. As you make eye contact, he unravels his arms from where they were crossed against his chest to instead hold them out for you to fall into, which you do; stepping into his hug as comfort immediately washes over you. “Jeno makes me really happy.” You say, and admitting that to Jaemin in this context seemed to finally settle the ground beneath your feet, like the entire world was waiting for your confession.

Jaemin laughs a bit, holding you slightly tighter in the hug. “I know. You make him really happy, too.” When Jaemin realizes you don’t intend to respond to that, he lets out a light sigh. “So…you should probably go to him and be all happy together, yeah?” He continues playfully. You whip your head out of his chest to look up at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay if your sister dates your best friend?” You ask seriously, though by now, a huge smile has made its way across your lips. Jaemin scrunches his face, looking back down at you.

“Maybe refrain from saying it like that and yeah, I’ll be okay. Besides, he’s our best friend, not just mine.” At his words, you’re practically jumping to get out of Jaemin’s arms, and he lets you go with a laugh. You scramble for your phone, immediately calling Jeno, who picks up on the first ring.

“Hello.” His voice cuts through the speaker as you’re already rushing out of your room.

“Go outside!” You command, and you hear Jeno’s laugh on the other end.

“What? Why?” He responds playfully, but you don’t take it.

“Go outside! I’m serious!” You reply.

“Chill, I went outside the second you told me to the first time. What’s this about?” He asks, but you’re too busy running through the downstairs and to the front door, trying not to crash into any furniture. You open the front door and turn to your left towards Jeno’s house two doors down. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he hangs up the phone, but he doesn’t have time to question the huge smile on your face before you’re already darting towards him, and he seems to finally understand where this is going as he prepares himself to catch you.

As predicted, your run towards him only ends when you jump into his waiting arms, your legs wrapping around his torso as he spins you around once before resting his forehead against yours. “Kiss me, Jeno.” You breathe out, and Jeno wastes no time. There it was again, the fireworks, and the feeling in your chest that you never wanted this moment to end.

“About time.” Your mom says, peeking out from the doorframe where Jaemin was standing and watching the two of you.

Jaemin drops his head with a small laugh. “Yeah, about time.”

#jeno #nct dream #jeno one shot #jeno fic #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno fanfic #jeno angst?#jeno fluff?#jeno who knows #nct #nct dream fic #lee jeno

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

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