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eowynstwin · 2 months

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the rain

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You return home, and let John do to you what he's promised. cw: cunnilingus

The moment you ’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.

There’s a dangerous cast to the sky—dark, heavy, near-splitting at the seams. It’s not a night to have rejected a ride home from the station, not with those words ringing in your ears.

But when the ride was your ex, you’d rather risk getting caught in the downpour.

The pavement is hard and cold beneath your tired feet. Your whole body is sore from the long train ride home, spent stiffly across from Ben as you’d avoided his gaze, but you’d walk twice the distance home to even halve the time you’d spent with him. His sad eyes and kicked-puppy stare had been stuck to you the whole time, as if magnetized, and they weigh on you now as heavy as the suitcase you drag behind you.

This trip was a mistake. You should not have gone anywhere with Ben, professionally or otherwise. Not with how weird the energy has been between you and him, ever since you broke it off.

“Can’t you just try to be happy with me?” he’d asked you then. “I’m a good partner, aren’t I? I just want to make you happy, sweets, and it’s like you won’t even let me.”

Objectively, Ben had been the boyfriend everyone seemed to want when they talked about romance—interested and engaged, excited about a future together, sensitive and willing to talk about his feelings. He even knew where the clitoris was. There was nothing—no red flags, no warning signs—that should have scared you off.

It was just you. There was something wrong with you, because none of that made you happy—not the lunch dates, not the weekly flowers, and not even the sex. All you knew was that when he started wondering when you would introduce him to your parents, ice had run down your spine.

A bad gust of wind slaps you from behind, followed by a crack of thunder, too close for you to make it home dry. Indeed, there isn’t much time after finishing that thought before the deluge unloads, raindrops falling heavy and cold and fat as bullets.

You come to a resigned stop in the middle of the sidewalk, tilting your face up to the sky. There’s no point in rushing now—thick, late-winter clouds spread low across Liverpool, slow-moving. By all appearances intending to linger as long as possible. You’d neglected an umbrella, and your coat is nowhere near waterproof. You think of the warm interior of Ben’s car and shiver.

You want John.

You struggle to understand it. He is nothing like what you’d assign yourself for a match—there is a wide gulf of difference between you and him, too wide for you to ever expect an easy crossing. He and you should feel disjointed, incongruous, as ill-suited as a war horse might be to a hummingbird. There shouldn’t be anything you could offer each other that either would have use for.

And yet, you do. It is easy. Breathable, in a way that feels unearned enough to make you nervous.

How are you supposed to navigate something that shouldn’t be working, but is anyway? How can something feel this good with barely any effort on your part? How can you go through with this, when you’re not even sure what it means?

The rain reaches its fingers down into your collar, pools around your feet. You close your eyes and try to hear John’s voice in your head again. Soft and low over the phone, coaxing. Inviting your fears out into the open to be soothed.

You’re walking again before you realize it—one cold foot in front of the other, heavy suitcase clattering behind you, familiar with the way home even through the sheeting rain. And what feels like mere moments later, you’re walking up the steps to his front door.

The window beside it glows a soft yellow around the edges. You can’t help but stand there, frozen again as this suddenly becomes real. John, and everything he’s offered you, is on the other side of the door. All you have to do is take it. All you have to do is knock.

But John opens the door before you can even lift your hand.

“Jesus, love,” he says, the moment he looks at you.

Time slows. Warmth pours from the open portal. He looks… comfortable. Soft around the edges in blue jeans and a knitted sweater—the same one he’d worn to dinner at the pub. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him, even in the few days you’d been gone, but once your eyes land on his you don’t want to look away. The angle of his brow; the shape of his mouth beneath his old-fashioned mustache. Looking at him is like looking at your bed at the end of a long day.

“Hi, John,” you reply, smiling apologetically.

“Come on, get inside!” he exclaims, hurrying you in as thunder claps behind you.

In his flat, the lights are low. As you stand dripping on his entry, you take in an arrangement of somewhat retro furniture and sparsely decorated walls. It’s utilitarian in a way that probably isn’t meant to be; spare of anything particularly homey because the inhabitant just doesn’t have time to pay attention to it. You’ve never actually been inside before. It’s very much like John himself; tidy but old-fashioned, practical, hiding absolutely nothing.

You don’t think the candles, though, sitting on a few end tables and shelves and glowing soft gold, are his standard decor. Nor is the crystal bottle of liquor languishing in an ice bucket at the center of a small coffee table, attended by two whiskey glasses off to the side.

“When you said you were on your way I didn’t think you’d be walking,” he says, taking your luggage and setting it aside. “Why didn’t you ask me to come get you? I have a car, would’ve been happy to drive you.”

“I—” and you laugh a little nervously, magnetized to the concerned slant of his brow, “I didn’t know you had a car.”

You’re not sure you would’ve asked him for a lift even if you had known.

He draws close, so close his warmth cuts through the chill of your wet clothes, his gaze moving across you like he’s drinking you in. He cups your face lightly with one hand, thumb tracing a gentle line across your cheek. The expression on his face is almost too tender for you to bear.

“You’re here now,” he murmurs.

There’s a tremble working its way through your chest. You feel desperately seen again, recognized in a way no one ever has before. “I’m a mess, I—maybe I should go and change, come back…”

“No,” he purrs, taking your chin between thumb and forefinger. “You’re stayin’ right here.” And quite easily, John kisses you for the first time.

His mouth is warm along yours. His free hand hooks your waist, pulls you closer as he moves to cup the back of your neck. You’re so surprised you don’t react for a moment, but that doesn’t deter him; he just coaxes you into responding, sipping at your lips, teasing at the seam with the tip of his tongue.

It throws you off balance. He kisses you as if he’s known all along how to do it; as if he’s studied you, all of those mornings, noting the way your lips touch the rim of your coffee mug and the way you look up at him when he talks to you. Calculating the angles, the ways your mouths could fit together.

He shifts, angling to kiss you deeper. A wave of vertigo threatens to overtake you—your hands fly to his chest, which is broad beneath your fingers. You dig them into the cable of his sweater, a little whine escaping you, and John huffs a laugh against your mouth before greeting your tongue with his.

You have never felt as small as you do now in John Price’s hands, at the mercy of the way he holds you—like he’s planning to keep you in place until he’s finished with you.

When he finally pulls away, you have the opportunity to take a deep gasp as he chuckles again. He thumbs your bottom lip, almost playfully.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “Wanted to do that the minute you walked into the pub that night.” You don’t have time to reckon with this confession—if you can even call it that, because once he says it you realize you’ve known the whole time—before he continues. “Come on, you must be freezing. Let’s get you warmed up.”

John helps you out of your coat, unwrapping you like peeling away a chrysalis. It exposes the thin, damp fabric of your dress to the warm air—and to his gaze—and you can’t help but feel suddenly naked in front of him. He’s revealed nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but irrationally, you want to cover your chest, or cross your arms over your stomach. Shield the most vulnerable parts of you from consumption.

John takes your hands in his and pulls you to an armchair—a comfortable, plush thing with a low back. He backs you into it so that your knees buckle, and you sit, looking up at him as he stands over you.

“First order of business,” he says.

He turns away from you to lift the decanter from the bucket, and pours a finger of liquor into a glass. You try to pretend your heart isn’t thrumming, like a bird’s beating wings behind your ribcage, as he turns back and holds out the drink, long fingers dwarfing the rim.

“As promised,” he purrs, “Balvenie.”

You accept it the glass; the scotch sparkles, amber-rich and glittering gold where the low candlelight catches it.

“It looks good,” you say, looking up at him.

There’s a pleased look on his face. “Give us a taste, then.”

Heat blooms across your face, spreads down your chest. You bring the rim of the glass to your lips immediately, still held by his gaze—

Smoke blooms across your tongue, heavy and soft, pricked with notes of honey and vanilla. You roll the scotch in your mouth, close your eyes as its warmth slides along your tongue, pressing it up into your soft palate, citrus appearing in a sudden, tangy splash. You let the drink flow into your throat and feel the smoke fill your head as you swallow.

You open your eyes and look up at John. “That’s really good.”

It shouldn’t surprise you, really, but it does: John bends over you, takes your chin in his hand, and kisses you again, dipping his tongue into your mouth as if searching for leftover drops of liquor. Your head swims; warmth suffuses you, waking up the nerves along the back of your neck. The hair on your arms stands on end as the world narrows to John’s mouth on yours and nothing else, the wet heat of his tongue, the prickle of his beard against your skin. It’s slow and molasses-sweet, rich and decadent. Thunder rumbles, far away.

“Mm. It is,” he says when he pulls away. Another brief kiss—like he can’t get enough of it, like he’s been saving up every moment he hasn’t kissed you, and is spending all of his chances now. “Promise me you’ll never drink Walker again.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, taking an unsteady breath.

The ends of his beard move against your face in a smile. “Enjoy that. I’ll be right back.”

He straightens, and steps away. The tug of his gravity is so strong that you list forward, toward him, until he leaves your orbit.

You look around his apartment again, helpless, as if to find some sort of anchor that isn’t John Price—he’s going to get you drunk on his presence alone faster than the liquor ever could. You catch sight of a bookshelf, sparsely populated with a short line of books; as you stare at them, trying to figure out what they are, you realize with a start that they’re all brand-new copies of what you’ve lent him.

Actium. Nafisi. Da Vinci. McMurtry. They’re all here. The textual foundation of your relationship aligned in a tidy, even row. Living here, in the center of his home.

You take another nervous sip of scotch.

John returns with a stack of clean towels, unfurls one, and drapes it over your head. But before you can tend to your hair yourself, he lays his big hands overtop of the terrycloth, pressing down into your scalp.

Your breath leaves you in a rush, depressurizing your lungs. Pure sensation dances up your spinal cord, suffusing the space between your ears, as he kneads with an even, firm pressure, massaging the water from your hair. Your eyes slide shut of their own accord. Your mouth drops open as he digs his fingers into the tense nerves down the back of your head.

The little sound that escapes the pit of your throat is utterly involuntary.

John huffs a chuckle. “That good, then?”

“Uh-huh,” you hear yourself mumble again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, obscured by smoke, you think you should feel embarrassed, ashamed of how naked your pleasure must be. But John gives you no time to ruminate.

He tilts your face upward and presses his lips to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, gentle, soft, to your mouth. Your mouth, over and over again, as calloused thumbs caress your temples.

It’s a gentle way of taking control. You have no need to reach out with unsure hands, or stumble your way through half-desires with no time to think about them. John has seen into you, divined your quietest, sincerest needs, and feeds them back to you now like he’s only been waiting for your go-ahead to do so.

The bird in your ribcage flutters nervously. Is this really alright? Should you be letting it happen like this? Shouldn’t you be…participating, somehow, in this, other than to take what he gives you?

“John,” you start, but you have no idea what you want to say to him. “Shouldn’t I…shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” he says. “You should let me take care of you.”

John squeezes your hair one more time, then sets the damp towel aside. With an expression you can only describe as beatific, he smooths errant strands of hair away from your face, and then lowers to his knees in front of you. He touches your ankles; nods toward the glass of scotch encircled by your nervous hands. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You hold his gaze, and take a sip. The satisfaction on his face is almost too much to bear.

“Good girl,” he says. He lifts the heel of your shoe onto his thigh, smoothing his hand up and down your shin. “You’re doing such a good job, letting me do this.”

He takes your shoes off as tenderly as he’d removed your jacket, tucking away the laces and setting them off to the side. With warm hands, he rolls your wet knee-high socks down your legs, exposing your chilled calves to his palms. After he folds them and places them by your shoes, his mouth and the warm scratch of his beard meet the top of one foot…move up your instep, and to the inside of your ankle, then to your shin…up your calf…to your knee—

“Is this—” you begin, and have to swallow the trembles in your voice, “what you talked about on the phone?”

“Mm-hm,” he hums, kneading your other calf as he urges your legs to open for him.

Your breath is shallow in your lungs—as if any one too deep might startle John away from his quarry, convince him you’re not aching for this. John kisses inward along the inside of one thigh, keeping the other open with his kneading hand. The flesh molds like clay to his touch, extruding between the gaps of his fingers. He makes an appreciative sound, a hum, as he slides his hands further upward and under the damp hem of your dress, cresting the angles of your hips. Inexplicably, you go tight, anticipatory, like the skin of a grape exposed to a knife.

It isn’t like you haven’t been here before. Your sex life with Ben had been—while not particularly active—not nonexistent. And yet this feels new anyway; as if John is sweeping dust off a body long left unused. Your thighs are taut and sensitive as a yearling’s flank, ready to twitch at the barest whisper of breath.

But isn’t this new, after all? No one, not Ben or anyone else who’s ever touched you, has made you feel this way.

“Lift your hips, darlin’,” John rumbles, and for the first time you catch a hint of scouse in his accent—low, slung around his words and leaving off the hard edges. Like a vein of gold unearthed. “Bring ‘er closer to me.”

Heat blazes across your face. There’s a small end table beside the armchair; you take one more pull from your scotch glass and set your drink aside. Then you shift, edging your hips forward, tilting your pelvis—angling your pussy toward John’s face.

He kisses the crease of your thigh and groin. “That’s a girl,” he purrs, and then presses the bottom half of his face directly into your underwear, opening his mouth over the wet fabric and inhaling deeply. The panties are nothing fancy, simple cotton with a floral pattern, but his eyes slide shut in what you can only describe as ecstasy.

“It’s like you’re getting as much out of this as I am,” you say, trying to laugh, to make this feel like less than it is if only for the sake of your nerves.

“I am,” he says, rough around the edges, and pulls at the gusset of your underwear with his teeth. “I’ve thought about this every morning—” he runs the flat of his tongue along the outer seam, touching bare skin “—and every evening—” edging his fingertips into the leg hole at the top of your hip “—since I met you.”

“You barely knew me,” you whisper, trembling.

“I knew enough,” he says, lifting his face to meet your eyes—his pupils are blown wide, encased in a thin rind of blue. Delicately he takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers, eases it down. “Knew you were a good girl, who wouldn’t even fuss at mean old bastard for waking her up. Wanted to eat your cunt to apologize.”

Something flushed and hot radiates from your core, molten and liquid. “Every time you call me that I—I don’t know what to do, John, I feel…”

“Good,” he says. “Lift your hips again.”

You obey. You think you’d do practically anything, if he told you to in that voice, rough and commanding like far-away thunder. John peels your underwear from your hips, dragging it down over the swell of your bottom, closing your legs to pull them down and—you swallow—shoving them in his pocket when they’re off. Then, like opening the shutters of a window, he parts your legs again, and slots his face between them.

The first thing that strikes you is how hot his mouth. He eases a molten tongue into your folds and you watch his eyes slide shut, feel the soft groan he gives vibrate against your flesh. Your body heat blooms, sight going liquid around the edges—or maybe your temperature is just rising to meet John’s own, thermoregulating to avoid meltdown as he stokes a fire between your legs. Hot breath meets you as he opens his mouth, gets as much tender flesh between his lips as he can.

He’s slow. Exploratory. He tongues your pussy luxuriantly, indulgently, as he loops his arms under your legs to hook them over his broad shoulders, thick forearms dark with hair snaking overtop of your thighs. Holding you in place as he eats— savors . He maps your topography, delving and cresting the landscape like trying to discover every significant landmark, and finds a spot on your clitoris that makes your thighs seize up and your hips jerk under his mouth. He chuckles low against you, playfully flits his tongue across it at what you’d swear is the same rapid pulse of your heartbeat.

You look at him between your legs. The curls of his dark lashes are pretty against the pale hue of his skin, freckled with sun exposure. Fever pink spreads across his cheeks as his brow furrows in the middle, creasing as he laps at the beads of moisture pearling up from your entrance. You watch him, mouth hanging open to allow your shallow breaths to flow free—and he opens his eyes, sharp blue, meeting your gaze.

A sound escapes you, raw, rough in the back of your throat. He smiles, drags the flat of his tongue up your folds as if to show off, and strokes along the sensitive border of your mons and lower stomach with the rough callus of his thumb.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, love.” He kisses your mound and then takes your pussy, soft and slow, back into his mouth.

There’s a trembling behind your sternum. Something in you breaks open—seeps cloying and honey-gold—into your bloodstream. Your head lolls back as his tongue slips deeper into you, stoking pleasure, your old friend, your old enemy, like turning embers out of ashes. Your thighs relax over the ballast of his shoulders. They’re broad enough that even as your legs fall further open, they don’t slip off.

It’s like your body and his are dovetail joints cut long ago, yet still now slide easily into place. Your heels rest comfortably on the expanse of his back with plenty of room left over; his big hands, as they spread wide across your stomach, fit along its curves and dips like rain sliding along soft green leaves.

It soaks you to the bone, warm and deep into your marrow, filling your veins and blotting the spaces between your alveoli until John, John, John is on every breath.

You must be saying his name aloud, because John’s grip tightens around you. The flint-strike of his tongue against your clitoris, lightning-sharp, catalyzes the pleasure in your bloodstream into a tight, unfamiliar gnarl. You gasp hard, almost painfully—how long has your body been able to feel like this, somewhere beyond your reach?

Has this pleasure always lived at the end of John’s tongue, along the contours of his hands, draped over his body like a mantle?

(How can something like this be a fair exchange for books and clumsy conversation?)

Your hand flies to John’s hair as it grows—a trembling feeling that touches places inside of you that you’ve always been dimly aware of, but never have given much thought to. It loosens you at the seams, grinds the fault lines inside of you together, dislodges your inhibitions from their foundation.

“John, please,” you whimper, brows drawn together, “please, please—”

He growls against you. Grinds through your center and then sucks your folds into his mouth, grazing the hood of your clit with the edge of his teeth, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue—

Suddenly, it overtakes you.

Flying sparks finally catch along aching tinder. A single point of furtive, glowing heat blooms between your legs, unassuming except for that you’ve never felt it before. It only sits briefly in your folds before bursting outward, seizing every nerve ending in the immediate vicinity, blazing bright like fire spreads over paper. Then you tighten around nothing, the inside of you desperately grasping something that isn’t there, body snapping taut as you arch from the backrest, mouth hanging open as a sharp gasp dies in your throat. Sensation consumes everything. Your vision darkens; the air stills in your lungs.

The only thing spared is the heat of John’s mouth, the cords of his arms around your thighs, and the ballast of his shoulders hooked in the bend of your knees—he keeps you anchored, held together as you try to fly apart. The caress of his hands and fingers across your lower belly does not stop as his mouth continues moving over your cunt, moves until your whole body is shaking, moves as you finally gasp for air and cry out in overstimulation.

You collapse back into the chair, pushing now against John’s head even though you’re not sure you want him to stop. He resists—kissing your pussy, once, twice, three times as you come down—and then takes a wrist in one big hand and kisses your palm.

“That,” John rasps, “is a fucking climax, love.”

You swallow, throat dry and smoke-rough. Even in the aftershocks, the pleasure lingers, and you squeeze your inner muscles to hold onto it for as long as you can.

It doesn’t escape his notice. Of course it doesn’t. John’s fingers trek inward, gathering some of the wet slick between your folds and then lazily circling your clitoris.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “my poor girl needs more, doesn’t she?”

Ecstasy grips you again; you whimper as he manipulates your flesh. “John…”

“How long you been aching for it, love? Years? How long’ve you needed me, and I ain’t been there, mm?” He kisses the soft part of your lower belly. “You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m here now.”

You angle your head to look at him, running your dry tongue along your lips. What you see on his face steals the meager oxygen you’ve managed to pull in since your climax abated.

His face is flushed. Lips rosy and swollen from their work. The blue of his eyes has been eclipsed almost completely by black singularity—inescapable, unfathomable, a depth more vast than comprehension. Ready to swallow you whole.

This whole time, you’ve been afraid of John’s touch the way you are afraid of a hot bath on a cold night. There is a comfort beyond the first step into the water, languorous ecstasy waiting only for you to claim it, but the toll separating it and you—the shock of first contact, the split second of violent adjustment, makes you nearly content to remain in uncomfortable but familiar dissatisfaction.

Thunder cracks outside as you reach for him, as he reads your mind and surges forward to kiss you, hand catching the back of your neck to reel your mouth to his. You kiss each other hard and fast, over and over again, eager to end each one only so you can start the next.

Nearly content, in the end, is not content at all.

“John,” you murmur against his lips, as his hand still works your cunt, “I’m still cold.”

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #price x reader #price x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod smut #mw2 smut #neighbors au #madi writes #mwritesprice

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dahliakbs · 3 months

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Random Ideas I've Had For Batfam

Writer's block is the only reason I've yet to post any of them

1) Idol! Reader x Batfam

This is one of my newest ones, where basically the reader would be a tired, overworked idol in an industry full of talent. Their attention span would be that of a goldfish so in order for batfam to get them to actually relax and take some time off (which they can't do any of that but whatever) the batfam would use their attention span against them.

Leading them away slowly but surely from the toxic idol life and instead trying to get them back into the real world.

2) Batfam x Reader - The bats are from a different universe

Where basically reader lives in a universe where heroes don't exist and one day they phase into reality. Coming out of nowhere and for some reason no one is questioning a single thing.

Almost everyone you know has these alrmtered memories of those vigilantes or villains and you just can't seem to understand how the world changed so drastically over night.

You somehow gain their attention, you know from nearly freaking out every time their in your proximity (as vigilantes) or when you start noticing the questionable things occurring in your universe

Like ripples in time, or holes in the ground that when looking inside of it lead to another universe. The world eventually ends with only you and the vigilantes being left and you start to put it all together.

(Basically its kinda was supposed to be like Rick and Morty, where if they destroy their own universe they just skip to another one and in the end they end up having to take the reader with them)

3) Batfam x Five Hargreeves! Reader

Long and short of the story, your an overworked sidekick. Batman seems to have this idea that your the key, that your powers would be extremely useful in his nightly crusades so he trains you. Day after day your worked to the bone and then you snap.

Why can all the other kid sidekicks get to live their lives as normally as possible but your stuck training day after day to do something you don't even want to do? Your muscles are screaming and your on the verge of passing out from all the strain your training had on your body so when your desperate, tired mind comes up with a way to put all of this to a stop you decide to do it.

You use your powers to send yourself into the future, thinking that it will permanently separate you from your daily hell... and it did, just not how you were expecting it to.

(Then basically you return to the past and in the same body you left in with the mission of saving the world, the batfam slowly uncover your secrets and after a while confront you about it.) Like about how you were an assassin

4) Damian Wayne x Child! Reader

Funny idea I got from a tiktok audio where reader is a church girl and they meet Damian during morning mass. He's covered in blood, clearly looks like he'll jump at the next thing that moves in his peripheral but your a kid, you don't care.

You immediately become friends (that's how you see it in your mind) sneaking him out of the church while your parents aren't looking because he asked you to, well more like demanded you to but a friend is a friend. He'll keep secretly inviting you out, somehow finding your parent's house and showing up in the middle of the night to whisk you away.

Not for the purpose of hanging out. No no no, your his cover. He camouflages well when your around, your bubbly, childlike demeanor hiding his intense and dark intentions. And that's a good thing when it comes to his missions, his mother doesn't seem to care about your presence in his life so for now he'll just keep you around.

Your parents are a bit apprehensive about your friendship with him and only when they find out that Damian is Bruce Wayne's son is when they finally accept your friendship. (After Damian meets Bruce)

They finally allow you to hang out with him and you finally get to meet his "irritating" siblings that he for some reason always goes on about and they're just staring at you like.

How did you become friends with their rat of a brother?

A little dialogue I had:

"How did you meet our brother?" Dick's trying to seem as sweet as possible but your entire outfit could light up an entire city, your parents have you dressed like a disco ball and it's not doing you any favors.

And you know, these nocturnal vigilantes aren't really used to such bright light.

"I met Dami while I was in church" you answer sweetly, it's clear that the difference between the two of you is night and day which us honestly a breath of fresh air.

"Oh really...?" Dick's smile tenses, I mean who would expect Damian to go to church, let alone be at least 15 feet near one.

"I was there to kill the pastor" he just simply states.

"You were there to kill the what?!" Boom, reality shattered. Innocence gone, now you know why you haven't been seeing Pastor Malcom as of late.

#batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfamily #batfam #batman x reader #batman #batfamily x reader #dc #dc x you #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #Dick Grayson #idol reader #church girl #batman x child reader #batman x child! reader

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buckypinetrees · 1 year

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Warm

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to go on a team bonding getaway together. Tensions rise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, boob play, oral (Fem receiving)

A/N: First fanfic I've written in years and the first time I've ever written for Bucky. Feedback is very much appreciated in the comments.

Part 2

You had run out of places to run. You had run further into the woods than you intended. You had been trained for this, you reminded yourself. Taking a deep breath, you scanned the area around you. The knotted mess of trees and plants surrounding you struck no chords of familiarity in your bones. You were lost.

“You lost, doll?” you heard a voice sneer. The voice of the man you were stuck with out here in the middle of nowhere for a “training session” Bucky Barnes.

“I’m fine,” you mustered as much anger and spite into your voice as you could manage.

“I could show you the way back.” The stupid smirk that pervaded your dreams gleamed.

You pushed forward avoiding talking to him further. You heard him try to continue the banter, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the fact that you had to spend an insufferable week here with him in the name of team bonding. You understood why Steve had made the decision. The last fight between you and Bucky had ended in the drywall of the training room being completely turned to bits. But there had to have been other ways. Surely, they could have sent you guys on different missions, planning out your schedule so your presences never had the chance to grace each other. But no, here you were with the man who had made your entire time at the compound a living hell.

Finally coming out of your thoughts you examined the area surrounding you. The woods thickened and the whisper of birds sang above you. Peaceful. That was what this was. Maybe the first semblance of peace you encountered since yesterday when you were jetted here against your will. Your pleas for anything different fall on deaf ears. Steve had said it would be good for you.

You had sat in the clearing for what seemed like hours. The sun had started to set in the distance and the birds stopped chirping. The temperature had fallen what seemed like 20 degrees in an hour and you realized you didn’t have much time to get back to the cabin before you froze to death. Maybe death would be sweeter than the taunting and humiliation you would face if you had returned there. Before you left you told Bucky that you would rather die than spend a night in the cabin with him. Returning now would make it seem like you were weak, and you couldn’t stand the smug look that would be on his face when you returned.

“Still lost, little dove?” his voice rang in your ears.

“Don’t call me that” you bit back the urge to scream at him. He had been using these pet names against you from the moment you arrived. Seeing you as nothing but an average civilian.

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness get you killed,” Bucky admitted. You answered with a vulgar gesture. “Okay, have it your way, I’m returning to the cabin. You can follow me back or you can freeze.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps soften as he started walking away. You rose, knees aching as you stretched them for the first time in hours. Trying to be as quiet and discrete as possible you followed his trail back to the cabin. It took you a while, not to realize how deep you had truly ventured into the woods. Watching him through the window you readied yourself for his snide remarks. You could handle this. You rarely lost your temper in other situations but with Bucky, there was just something truly infuriating about him.

Walking through the door, the smell of the stove pervaded your senses. He had made dinner, probably just for himself. The conditions of this little “getaway” were simple. The cabin was made available for you two to shelter in but everything other than that you would have to fend for yourself. So, no food, unless you hunted, no clean water unless you searched for it, and no heat unless you cut the wood yourself. You thought back to how stupid you had been. Instead of spending the first day here using your efforts to find any of these things, you threw a tantrum. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you smelled the aroma of food sizzling on the stove.

“Hungry, doll?” He sneered as if reading your mind. “Too bad you were lost in the woods the entire day. I only had enough time to find a meal for myself.” His eyes found yours as he hit his mark with his ravenous words.

“I said earlier, I am fine. I don’t need your help here. I’m on the team for a reason. I can survive the week just fine” not daring to give him the dignity of seeing you fail. You made your way towards the shower. You heard him chuckle behind you. You locked yourself inside the bathroom, trying to steady yourself. You hated the smug expression on his face. He would be truly handsome if he didn’t have such a bitter interior. Being this close to him made you want to rip his throat out. This was going to be a long week.

You emerged from the shower, dressed in your night clothes. The only luxury you and Bucky were afforded was packing your clothes for the week. Bucky was spread out on the couch, a grin spread across his lips.

“Oh, just so you know, I didn’t get any wood for the fire. I don’t need it seeing my enhancements and all, but you might get cold. Should’ve thought about it before you acted like a toddler earlier” his grin never ceased as he eyed you up and down. His gaze always felt dirty on your skin. He would never see you as part of the team. To him, you were just a stray they found and had the kindness to take in.

You didn’t deign to respond to his mockery. The less you had to talk to Barnes the better. You simply shuffled past him to reach the bedroom. An old shaggy duvet sat aloft a bed that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, but it would do. You wrapped yourself as tightly in the blanket as possible already feeling the chill seeping into your bones, both from the cold and your lack of nutrition. You ignored it, wishing you could also ignore the whistles and hums coming from the living room. He was loving this. Your misery was delicious to him. He was drinking it in. You tried to turn off the thoughts running through your head and slept.

You had awoken in the middle of the night shivering. The cold is too impertinent now to ignore. On top of that, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten since you guys had started the flight here, almost 24 hours ago. Tossing and turning, you had tried to stay in bed for as long as possible. Finally rising you made your way to the bathroom. It was a smaller room. Maybe it kept heat trapped in better. As you walked out of the bedroom, Bucky rose to sit up on the couch.

“What are you doing up?” His voice was husky with sleep. Any other man with this voice would make your toes curl and you would be completely pliant in his hands.

“I had to go to the bathroom.” You whispered out meekly.

“Sure, little dove, it’s not because your cold right?” You shook your head, not daring to talk again in case your teeth chattered. “You see,” Bucky continued, “with my enhancements, I could hear your little body shivering in that bed. The sound of your chattering teeth started to sound like white noise. You know I could help you if you just admit that you acted like a brat this morning.”

You scoffed at him. Why would you not act the way you had when forced to go on this little retreat with him? And what did he mean by helping you? You had had enough of him.

“I don’t need your help, Barnes. You’re an ass!” Your tone rises as you spit the words at him.

“You say one thing and yet your body betrays you every time. Look how hard you’re trying not to shiver. C’mon, just admit it. You acted like a spoiled little brat today and you need me to fix your mistakes.” His eyes never left your frame as he examined the way your body continued to shake from the cold.

“No.”

“Okay then freeze, but then you’re going to be weaker tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep and then I’ll have to spend all day caring for your ass because Steve made me promise that I wouldn’t let you die out here” he grunted out. “So, either let me take care of you now, or deal with it tomorrow. It’s your choice little dove.”

You wanted to scream at him, fight him, anything to wipe the smug grin that sat on his face like a permanent fixture when you were in his presence. You felt the heat radiating off him. He didn’t even need a blanket to keep warm. Your words betrayed your mind as you muttered out a “fine.” He rose from his spot on the couch moving closer to you. That ever-present smirk waltzing towards you.

“I’d offer you a spot on the couch, but it might be a little small for the two of us. Shall we move this to the bedroom?” His eyes raked over your figure as he stepped closer. Just being this close to him was already starting to warm you up. Not to mention the heat that flooded your cheeks at the word he spoke.

He grinned as he gripped your hand. “Hmm, you are freezing.” A brief glimpse of concern showed on his face. “Don’t worry we’ll get you all warmed up doll.”

You followed him into the bedroom, assessing how you would get him back tomorrow for making you feel so weak. Climbing onto the bed you felt him wrap his body around you. A weird foreign feeling to be seeking out comfort from what you considered your sworn enemy. But he was so warm, and his hands felt so gentle as he traced lazy shapes onto your chill-bitten skin. Your head instantly went empty as you savored the way his body pressed against your backside. He truly was beautiful with his dark locks and his cerulean blue eyes. The cold must’ve affected you worse than you thought if you were thinking such sweet things about Bucky.

While you were lost in thought you had continued to shift ever so slightly against him. His hand stopped instantly steadying you.

“Stop moving” he managed to growl out with a hint of something different in his voice. Unconcerned you continued to shift as you tried to get comfortable and that’s when you felt it.

“B…Bucky” you managed to squeak out now aware of his current situation. His hands felt too hot suddenly. Your body temperature rises way too high as the flush spread from your cheeks to your chest. You thanked God as you realized it was too dark for him to notice the blush spreading throughout his body. You shifted so that your backside was no longer pressed against him. Your body fully turned to him now.

“I think I’m warm enough now Bucky,” your voice was barely a whisper.

“You know what I think…” Bucky paused assessing the words he was about to say, “I think you’re a brat who makes it so damn hard for me to think about anything but this when you’re in the room.” He punctuated the sentence by gripping your ass in his hands hard, earning a moan out of you.

“Bucky,” you moaned out brokenly, too high off adrenaline to push him away or pull him closer.

“And do you know what I think you truly need? To be taught to mind your manners,” His voice dripped with lust as he moved his lips to your neck barely ghosting them over your pulse point.

You were a mess against him. You felt the dampness in your panties and your blood pound beneath your skin. Every sense was going haywire as you felt his hands roam your body. He took his time grabbing at every inch of your skin through your clothes.

“Please” you choked out. “Please touch me.”

“Aww…She does have manners,” He responded mockingly. “But I am touching you, maybe I need to teach your patience as well.” His hands gripped harder into your sides as he positioned you beneath him.

Just as you opened your mouth to protest his teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck. Arching your back trying to feel more of him, you whined against him. His metal arm came to rest against your hips keeping them in place as he slithered from you. He opened the blinds, so moonlight flooded into the bedroom.

“I want to see my meal before I eat it,” he smirked from his position by the window. The moonlight streaming showed how blown his pupils were, and if you had a mirror, you would assume yours would be the same. He moved ever so slowly towards you, the grin of a predator on his lips. His hands came to rest on the edge of your shirt.

“I’ve wondered how pliant you would be underneath me. How easily you would listen to every word I say” his hands began making quick work of your shirt exposing your bare breast to him. Your body shines blue underneath the moonlight.

“Beautiful,” he murmured more to himself than to you, but your body still keened at the praise. His hands explored the newly visible skin. You felt his warm tongue start to explore your right breast, giving little sucks and bites as he avoided your nipple. His metal hand doing the same motions on your left side.

“Bucky, please…” Your whines and groans were pathetic as you urged him to touch your most sensitive spots. Something about your feeble attempts at persuading him must’ve stirred something in him because he began to attack your breast with a new fervor. Your moans became even louder as he sucked and nipped at your budding nipples. His metal hand left your breast and steadied himself. His human one makes quick work to slide into your underwear.

“Someone’s so needy,” he tsked against your skin. His fingers explored the wetness found there. It was too much. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. All sense of morality floated out of your head as you reached for his shirt. “Please” became your mantra as he continued to rile up your already supple body. You were pleading for this man you had run from earlier to hurry up and fuck you.

He removed his shirt and your underwear, and you sighed thinking you had finally gotten to the part where he slides into you. Bucky had other ideas as he pulled your cunt closer to his face. He let out an exploratory lick that had your body pressing against him further. He found a motion that you liked as he let himself feast. Your moans bounced off the wall fueling him further. He began to devour you.

“You taste so sweet” The vibration made your body bend further into him. Seeing this as a pleasant sign he sweeps his finger against your aching hole, watching as your eyes widen in anticipation. He slides it in, and you finally submit to him fully. Knowing that this man could do anything he wanted to you, and you would willingly take it.

He ate you like he needed you to orgasm. Like it was the sole purpose, he was placed onto this Earth. Your head began spinning. The heat begins building up deep in your core. You clenched around his skilled fingers and felt yourself tumble off the ledge letting out a string of words all broken and all ending in Bucky’s name. Your body shook as he continued through your orgasm until you were spent.

Doe eyes met Bucky’s gaze as you finally regained some sense. You reached for him, hands grazing his bare chest as you came down. Bucky simply separated himself from you, moving towards the doorway.

“Hope you’re warm now, little dove.” His smirk returned to his face as he left you and returned to the couch.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky fluff #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader smut #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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a-roguish-gambit · 2 months

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I made a turn of the century x men evolution au

Hey everyone so a big special interest of mine is the period from 1900 to about 1928 so I decided what if I took the kids from the X-Men evolution cartoon from their point at the turn of the 21st century and put them at the turn of the 20th century instead...and also added a few characters. I hope you enjoy this. I have a lot for this au, and I'm gonna put it all under the read more.

So Au thoughts

The year is 1912. Xavier has started his institute a few years prior with scott summers and jean grey as students. Scott was adopted by Xavier after his parents died in a train crash and jean comes from a family of doctors and scientists Xavier is friends with.

Because no computers yet, as the microprocessor has yet to be invented, Forge didn't get stuck in a pocket dimention and got to grow up he works for xavier. He helps design and build a modified danger room that's more steam punk/dieselpunk. Lots of things are gear powered and Holograms are projections onto steam curtians. Because no computers, no cerebro. But jean and Xavier have trained themselves to be able to sense those with mutant powers around them and have been working with a network of underground individuals, some cases literally like the morlocks, to find out about new strange individuals popping up in the states. The morlocks are much more involved in this. they are good friends with Xavier and frequently helps young morlocks train their powers.

One of those individuals is Gambit. Gambit is 17 in this and does various jobs for xavier. One is listening through the grape vine for odd individuals popping up. The other is essentially working the danger room with forge. As The danger room is more steampunk/dieselpunk in this, with storm's help as well it can simulate weather events, earth quakes, fires, unstable ground, flooding, (bb gun based) old west shootouts, explosions (thanks to Gambit), search and rescue, avalanche / rock fall settings, and much more.

Gambit helps set up the room and make the mechanisms work. it functions well with automatons, steam engines, pistons, and a lot of theater special effect tricks. Gambit helps forge scrap hunt for machinery to repurpose for it. He has befriended the local street children and finds out from them wherever a factory tosses out a machine.

Speaking of theater though, we have morph as well as a staff member. Kevin is well known fairy(period equivalent to someone who does not fit into either gender) and drag expert from New York where they worked on broadway and a very close friend of Logan. So close they share a bedroom....;)

Morph is there to help with tailoring as well as helping kids who need disguises to pass in public cause of their time in broadway and avoid harassment, like Kurt.

They also help simulate battles in the danger room with foes they have faced off against before.

Kurt doesn't have an image modifier in this obviously. No computers, no digital holograms. But with forge and morph they are able to help him pass. Morph designs pants for him that have a special pocket for his tail to tuck away, as well as boots with special braces that help disguise his digitigrade feet. Morph also helps him with makeup and hair in the morning to hide his blue face and pointed ears.

For his hands forge has built some prothstetic fingers that are controlled by the other fingers in his hand like a puppet, so it appears he has five fingers on each hand covered by riding gloves, as well as colored contact lenses for his eyes to disguise them as brown.

Kurt's parents came to America from Germany with him as a toddler. People found out about their adopted son and they had to flee. They settled in a small German speaking community in the middle of nowhere Iowa where they could be safe. They would have a priest visit Kurt to give him mass in private for his own safety and had a nun come to tutor him. Xavier found out about Kurt through gambits grapevine.

Ororo came from Africa as a citizen of British colony egypt to Jamaica where she met Charles she has family living in the states via her sister who do are wealthy merchants. they were british colony expats that moved to the states to control British imports to the states easier. Thus how we get Evan. Skateboard hasn't been invented yet so he is big into the turn of the century cycling craze as well as roller skates.

Rogue is still a goth. A very very classic goth. Victorian goth. She still dresses like it's the 1800s to in part keep others from touching her skin but also she is just a great appreciator of Poe and Shelly and stoker.

One thing that is different for Scott is that on top of the train crash his brother havoc is still with him at this time. His parents are very, very dead tho. No alien rescues. (Forgot to draw Alex tho but he's there as are the minor character students)

Beast is also there more from the begining as a teacher he helps take care of the kids medical needs. He got kicked out of his scientific circle, not cause of his mutant ness that came later, but because he insisted doctors must wash their hands before interacting with patients.

Jean grey is a highly educated absolute Gibson girl. She and Kitty sneak out to do suffragette stuff regularly. Speaking of, kitty is definitely a girl of the new century. Wants to go to college one day with Jean. Insists on wearing riding/sports pants wherever she goes. She is girly in certain ways, but defs is a very modern young woman. She likes helping Forge out with his projects.

Magneto's hatred for humanity in this case comes from his survival of the pogroms of eastern Europe only to see there is still antisemitism once escaping them. And mystique has a boarding house where the brotherhood kids live, but she wasn't principal of the bayview school.

Wolverine is a cowboy in this au yes. He has a horse, but he's also toying with some of the very few motorcycles. They are more of dirt bikes at this point tho, so his horse his still his go too. It's a deep black mare named Blackbird. He does not have an adimantium skeleton but his claws have been capped with silver to help protect them.

No x jet but they do have a few biplanes they are training with. Forge is modifying them to be able to cary more people. So far he's made one that can vary five.

Gambit introduces everyone to jazz cause it hasn't left Louisiana yet. He brought his Grammaphone and all hell broke loose from there.

Also rogue having a bit more of a high society upbringing thanks to irene. Gambit hasn't had a day of real school as public school wants universally established until the 1910s. He knows his reading, writing, and arithmetic from Sunday school and such and whatever jean luc had him taught, but he's excited to learn about what the kids are learning about in their normal school.

Rogue brings him her study material and teaches it to him and in return he teaches her the various crafts and skills he learned in the bayou and as a member of the theives guild.

Hope you guys enjoy all this!!! Please feel free to share your thoughts!

Tried to keep things period accurate outfits wise.

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earlysunshines · 6 months

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are we still friends? (can we be friends?)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: seeing sana again during christmas causes feelings to resurface

warnings: food ; alcohol ; datzu crumbs ; cursing ; proofread halfway bc i got lazy + grammar and spelling errors probably

a/n: how to write angst?? am i cooked?? (I'm cooked) ALSO I wrote this in December so a lonnnngg time ago like when I touched the doc for the first time two days ago it said last edited 12/30/23 T-T

“y/n! come help with the decorations, it a bit tough to reach.” your mom calls out from the entrance.

pausing in your place, you turn to respond to her, “i’ll be there in a bit, let me finish mixing everything.”

“okay honey. make sure to wear a coat when you get out here, it’s chilly!” she yells back before closing the door.

a giggle leaves your lips as you continue to sift the dry ingredients, trying not to spill the flour and sugar. when you’re done with a part of your cookie process, you wash your hands and throw on your puffer jacket before heading out to help your mom.

christmas is in four days and your mom has this annual thing where she throws a big party at your place every christmas eve. she invites all her friends who are back in town—some even fly out to come to this big event—and it goes on until the concerningly late hours of the night.

your mom didn’t get to throw this big party last year because she was terribly sick, so you missed it that time, but now she’s so back.

this means you’re in charge of the baking (yet again) and also helping her out everywhere. it’s not that you don’t enjoy this, if anything you look forward to this event—just not this year, it won’t be the same as the previous christmas parties.

your mom has this friend who moved in five minutes away from your house when you were twelve, and they had a daughter your age. of course, both your mothers found a way to get you guys to meet, and eventually, you’d be spending the majority of your middle and high school years together stuck by the hip.

her name was minatozaki sana; she was the first person you had fallen in love with inside and out.

she had this type of vibrance to her that spread through her surroundings like a bullet train. if the room was dim, it’d seem like she had brought a piece of the sun inside just by being there, instantly illuminating it. it was palpable that she had her flaws, everyone did, but with the way she held herself up and gave her all, you’d see right past her imperfections and into that warm heart of hers.

sana expected nothing and appreciated everything, that’s what made her lips curl up into a contagious grin. the streaks of creased skin in the corner of her eyes as she flashed that toothy grin gave everyone the intimation that she was simply overjoyed to be able to have the ability to love and to care. she was so beautiful in the way she found adoration so enticing, and that’s why you had fallen in love with her.

your years with her passed by quickly, each year was filled with vibrant memories that led you to fall even deeper into her charm. however, you never mustered up the courage to tell her how you really felt toward her, and by the time you had gotten close to spilling out your pent up feelings; sana had found herself a little boyfriend.

chris was some guy on the basketball team—who was also a bit short and lacking skill to even make the team—he was an arrogant, pretentious, and egotistical snob who managed to win sana’s heart. how did he do this? who knows, everyone who’s interacted with him either hates his guts or is in love with his pathetic self.

he was only nice around sana, but you had seen him when he wasn’t pretending like there wasn't a stick up his ass. he was below the bare minimum and that’s how you’d describe him, he was nowhere near sana’s league. if anything, maybe you were just jealous (and that you were), but you knew what kind of person deserved sana—chris was not someone who deserved a wonderful woman like her.

that asshole managed to win sana’s heart and keep it for half of junior year and all of senior year of high school, then he managed to convince her to go to a college that was a five-hour flight away from home—and by the way, your town was a two-hour drive from a well-known, top notch university, one that you and sana agreed to go to when you were both in middle school.

there was no way you’d let sana go to that college, not when chris was the reason she was going. it was a school that wasn’t even comparable to the one not so far from home, the one that had significant alumni and programs fit for the both of you. sana could easily win a decent scholarship to the university you’ve been dreaming of going to, but she was going to let him change her mind in a matter of seconds.

there was no way you’d let that happen, so you simply walked over to her house and stormed up to her room after seeing her text regarding this whole plan, a fool’s plan.

you remember the argument that shattered your friendships in seconds, almost like it was yesterday.

“sana, you can’t just go to that school because of chris. look, i’m saying this as your friend and because i love you: he’s not all that, and the uni nearby has great health programs, they’re ten times better than the school over there and you know it.” you argue.

you’re pacing around the room that you and sana have had countless late-night conversations and sleepovers in, the place where you had done more for sana than chris did. your eyes land on the two strips of laminated paper that hold the memory of the time you two had gone to the photobooth on your sixteenth birthday, your brows crease at the sight of your cheeks squished with sana’s as the two of you posed. a heavy breath makes your lungs shrink as you exhale.

“i can’t let you do this, not for him sana.”

“but i love him so much y/n, you know this. he promised we could stay in an apartment together and that everything would be perfect, we have a whole future planned and i—”

“what about us sana?” you cut her off, voice breaking slightly. “what about our future? we promised that we’d go to that uni together, what happened to that? you’re going to throw it away for him?”

“you’re being ridiculous y/n, we were thirteen! things change and you need to grow up, look—”

“we’ve known each other since elementary school and you’re throwing away this opportunity for a guy whose grades are falling apart. not only that, he’s a fucking ass! you’ve come crying and complaining to me more times than i can count on my left hand.” you respond angrily, and much louder than you meant to.

sana looks at you in disbelief, her expression almost carrying some sort of disappointment or disgust. she scoffs and you feel your heart shatter just from hearing it, this isn’t like her at all.

“if you were so fucking annoyed by my misery then you could’ve told me,” she responds harshly, water lining her eyes.

“sana that’s not what i—"

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, always there for me and to support me. now look at you, what happened to that? can’t you be happy for me and chris? i seriously love him and all you’ve been is mopey and bitchy whenever he’s around.”

“i know more people that have treated you better than him. he’s an asshole sana, it’s clear as day and even dahyun agrees.”

her eyes meet the floor and she says in a smaller voice, “i love him y/n, and he loves me.”

not like i love you, never will he love you like that.

your features soften as you look at her. “sana you can’t—”

“get out of my room.” sana spits in a stinging tone that’s worse than a dagger to your heart. she shakes her head then turns to avoid your gaze and your heart completely shatters as you watch a tear slide down her cheek in the process. “get out of my house, i don’t want to hear it.”

“sana,” you begin, but when you hear her sniffle, you hold back everything that’s burning in your chest. your shoulders give up and sink in defeat before you croak out an “okay.”

turning around, you step out of her bedroom with a heavy heart and trembling lips. tears stream down your cheeks as you make your way out of the house where sana and you had spent countless hours together—hours that you’d never forget no matter how hard you tried.

each breath you take is visible in the cold air and snow compresses with each step you take whilst hanging up the christmas lights. your mother smiles once you pin the last string up and then you take a step back to admire the illuminating pattern of diverse hues beaming when your mom presses the “on” button.

“thank you again honey, i appreciate it.” your mom says, holding your hand and squeezing it gently.

you turn and smile at her, shaking your head before responding, “anytime mom.”

the two of you enter the house again and immediately you’re on your way back to the kitchen to finish up your famous cookies. you three different types of cookies: chocolate chip cookies (the fastest batch to be eaten), matcha cookies with white chocolate chips, and ube cookies—sana’s favorites.

“ube? what’s that?” sana says, giggling softly as you hand her a purple cookie with white chocolate chunks.

“just try it sana, you’ll love it.” you assure, urging her to try. “it’s purple too, how could you not?”

she rolls her eyes at you then picks up the sweet treat, taking a bite of the cookie. it’s crunchy on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, making her shoulders sink down and eyes close when the new, thrilling flavor meets her tastebuds.

“so, how is it?” you ask, raising your brows. sana simply smiles and nods, shooting a dorky thumbs up before taking another bite.

“it’s wonderful, it’s like coconut and nutty and has vanilla and oh my gosh it’s so… it’s really good.” she sighs, melting as she consumes your baked good. she looks adorable.

you laugh at her response and take a bite of your own experiment, eyes widening at how good they were. sana was right, they’re wonderful.

“ah the purple cookies, those were a hit ever since you started making them.” your mom says, rubbing your back. she looks at you with some pity, knowing about your little falling out with sana.

you simply smile and nod. “i like them, i was going to save some for myself too.” you joke, easing some tension in the air.

“well, i’m going to call your dad up, go visit the kim’s later and tell them i said hi.” your mom insists, placing a twenty dollar bill on the marble counter. “heard they have a holiday latte out, you should try it. dahyun’s also been experimenting with her baking and beverages, she gets better each time i visit.”

“of course she is,” you chuckle lightheartedly, “let me just finish these last cookies and i’ll put them in the fridge for a bit. did you want anything from their place?”

“no, it’s fine. oh wait! i have a present for dahyun’s mom, can you give her this if she’s there?” she asks.

“mhm,” you hum, “just put it near my bag on the couch.”

“thanks sweetie, i’ll do that.” your mother beams, then rushes towards her room to grab whatever it was that she needed.

ring

the sound of the bell chimes throughout the café—which is not too busy other than the elderly group in the corner and a student typing away at their computer to the side. you catch sight of the familiar face, instantly grinning when you walk towards the register.

dahyun is turned away from you and cleaning the espresso machine, wiping it down and yelling a “welcome! feel free to check out the holiday pastries and beverages!” without turning towards you.

you laugh and speak up, “it’s nice to see you miss know-it-all.” and upon hearing your voice dahyun instantly turns around, beaming a bright grin and setting her rag down.

“y/n? you didn’t tell me you were in town? what the hell where were you last year?” she questions, walking out from behind the counter and then towards you to greet you with a warm hug. she smells like coffee grinds and cinnamon, you hug her back and smile.

“i was deathly sick last year, like seriously fighting for my life. i didn’t tell you?”

“no stupid, you didn’t.” she sighs, then pulls away to look at you. “i’ve only seen your instagram posts, haven’t seen you in a bit and wow… you look better than in the pictures.”

“thank you?” you giggle before she walks over to return back behind the register. “i’ve also seen your instagram… who’s that girl you’ve been posting? got a girl and didn’t fill me in with the details?” you pry, smirking cheekily.

“oh, tzu… gosh y/n we have so much to talk about, i’m glad you’re back in town.” dahyun says appreciatively, and you don’t miss the slight pink that dusts on her cheeks before she starts again, “let’s talk over some coffee. what can i get you? on the house by the way. we have like, thirty minutes before a bunch of people start piling in.”

a giggle leaves your lips again before you decide on a peppermint mocha. dahyun gets to work and weighs out the coffee grins as you situate yourself to the side, watching her work her magic.

the two of you catch up on what’s been going on with college, dahyun’s love life that you’ve missed out on, and what you’ve been up to yourself. twenty minutes pass and you’ve both ended up on some old memory that has the two of you laughing like idiots again, making both your stomachs hurt.

“so… we’ve talked about what’s been going on with me… what about you and your love life? bet you’ve met a girl too.” dahyun interrogates with a teasing tone.

“oh, well—” you begin, awkwardly staring at the cup in your hand. “i dated this girl for a while, but we ended up falling out and staying friends, nothing much… we just weren’t right for each other.”

“i see…” dahyun responds, holding herself back from bringing up the sensitive topic—or, well, person.

dahyun was aware of the falling out as well, but still stayed friends with sana. however, she was your friend before she met sana, so she had made sure if it was alright to keep contact and whatnot. of course you didn’t want your own personal problems to get in between other friendships, and you still loved sana despite everything that had happened so you gave dahyun the green light.

after running to dahyun the same night of the argument with sana, you cried for an hour or two in her room. this was the first time you turned to someone other than sana, and dahyun had been on your side of the whole situation, making it easier to comfort and reassure you. she also disliked chris, but not as much as she liked you.

she pretty much agreed with everything you had ranted about and thought it was stupid that sana would rather choose that asshole over someone like you, and later on you’d confess that you were in love with sana to dahyun. when everything had been rocky with sana, dahyun had been by your side, and you were grateful for that.

“well, maybe you’ll land yourself a kiss under the mistletoe, who knows who’ll be showing up to your christmas party.” dahyun nudges you, smiling as she hands you some peppermint chocolate bark treat. “i could always set you up~”

“it’s fine, really.” you guarantee. a smile spreads across your face and you dismiss her offer with a wave of your hand. “um, by the way… has um, has she stopped by or anything like that recently? does sana still visit—"

there’s another ring from the door opening that cuts you off, making dahyun’s attention redirect towards the customer walking in. her eyes widen and she pauses in place before smiling awkwardly, then she mumbles an uneasy “um, be back…” before walking over to the register.

you don’t think much of her weird mood shift and instead swirl around the small remainder of coffee in the latte cup.

“hi dahyun! it’s nice to see you again.” a voice beams.

you freeze in place, all of your body tensing up as soon as the familiar voice processes through your ears. it’s smooth, it’s sweet, and it has that same high-pitched ring and giggle that follows. immediately, your heartbeat spikes and you’re doing anything you can to avoid interacting or even looking in the woman’s direction.

“it’s nice to see you too sana,” dahyun greets with a bubbly tone. the name being uttered from dahyun’s mouth is enough to make your hands grip the cup in your hand a little tighter. “can i get you anything?”

“hm… i’ll have that peppermint mocha please. i’m also going to take a look around the bakery, i need to grab some treats for others. you know how it is, holidays and whatnot.” sana says in that adorable tone, it has you falling for her all over again just when you thought you’d gotten over everything that’s happened.

quickly, you finish the last sip of your coffee before setting the empty cup down abruptly. it makes a small yet noticeable sound with the glass plate it had been sitting on, making sana advert her gaze.

the small gift you had set down beside you is now placed on the glass that covers the display of christmas themed cakes. dahyun looks at you in confusion and tilts her head before you turn to smile at her, avoiding sana’s widening eyes.

“thanks for the coffee dahyun, take the present on the glass to your mom—it’s from my mom to yours.” you start, trying to keep your voice level

every ounce of restraint and discipline is fighting back the urge to simply glance at sana, who’s standing right in front of dahyun. you almost manage to avoid her, but it’s inevitable, your eyes land on your first love for the first time in almost two years.

she’s looking at you with parted lips and surprise, but she still looks as beautiful as you remember. sana looks a little more mature than when you last saw her; the curve of her jaw is sharper, lips somehow brighter and her features are more defined overall. sana is wearing a scarf that fits around her neck comfortably, a brown, fluffy sweater, and dark sweatpants with uggs to compliment the outfit. there’s simplicity in her look—she’s jaw dropping, the sight of her makes your jaw tighten and heartbeat spike.

her eyes meet yours for exactly three seconds, enough time to have every memory flowing in.

clearing your throat, you finish your farewell to dahyun with a smile, “i’ll see you around, my mom says hi to your mom, tell her i also said hi too. i’ll get going now, have a good one.”

your body doesn’t fight back the urge to glance at sana again—big mistake—before turning around and walking out the door.

sana keeps her look on you the whole time, baffled to see you here and her own heart yearns for you. she’s missed you more than you’d ever know, and more than she’d like to admit. it doesn’t help her case that you’re ten times more attractive than when she’d last seen you at graduation.

“you should talk to her.” dahyun says softly. sana keeps her eye on the door, you’re already out and probably in your car, but she keeps her eye on the door still.

“were you talking to her earlier?” sana asks, now turning to face the younger woman.

“we were catching up.” dahyun answers. the woman behind the register turns around to start making sana’s drink, unknowingly the same drink you had ordered. it all makes dahyun’s own heart sink in her chest a bit. “how long has it been since you’ve talked to her?”

“since graduation.” sana explains, looking down at the counter. “i messed up.”

dahyun turns around again to see sana, sorrow and regret etching into her features. the barista frows and reaches over to place her hand on sana’s shoulder, then rubs it gently.

“talk to her, there’s always time to fix things. especially with y/n.”

a few days past since that meeting, you’re still shaken up from it to say the least.

sana is too, but you aren’t aware of that.

to stray away from this event that is dreadfully close to leading to some form of existential crisis or spiral, you’re helping your mom out with setting up the last few decorations and tables while your cookies that you chilled a couple days ago bake.

dahyun is also coming over with her girlfriend in the evening to exchange a couple of greetings and to properly introduce her girlfriend tzuyu to you. your mother had met tzuyu before and talked highly about her, so you were excited to meet her yourself.

when the time comes, you hear a knock at the door and shoot up to answer it. you open the door and dahyun stands there with a nervous grin on her face. next to her stands tzuyu—and sana.

your eyes widen and your jaw tenses when you see her perfect face, standing next to tzuyu with this awkward smile. she’s wearing a gray pullover and black sweatpants; an orange scarf also wraps around her neck comfortably. she looks snug and cute as ever, no matter what she’s adorable in your eyes. your heart flutters and you get all nervous like a teenager again.

pushing away the edginess flowing throughout your whole being, you greet dahyun with a warm hug, then give tzuyu and friendly one as well. you’re not sure how to greet sana, being all shaken up by just her presence, so you resort to a smile and a small “hi sana,” then invite them all in.

sana walks in and her hand brushes against your arm on accident, the two of you definitely notice it—though you both decide to ignore it and the warmth in your chests.

your mom greets all the girls with a hug and the five of you sit down in your homey living room. sana sits across from you on the couch next to your mom, and you sit there avoiding eye contact as you all catch up.

an hour passes by and dahyun is over in the living room talking to your mom about what’s been going on with her parents and the bakery. in the meantime, you decide to give yourself a break from feeling all nervous just by being near sana.

standing up, you announce, “i’m going to the kitchen for a bit.” your mom simply raises her brows at your sudden departure, you’ve been silent for most of the conversation and it seems like you’re the only one affected by the tension in the room. “won’t be long.” you add, smiling weakly.

the fridge is still full of some essentials, and to the side, there’s some cold brew and your favorite coconut milk; everything you need is right where you need it. you head over to the counter and grab your favorite glass cup, heart stinging at the memory of when you had received it. it was one of the many gifts from sana.

you grab some ice and put it in the cup, then add your cold brew inside. then you grab a small cup with some honey and search for a spoon so you can mix it in with the coconut milk.

“drinking coffee at this time?” a voice says, making you freeze. you break out of your short trance and hum in response before continuing to make your drink.

“you know i can’t resist a good coffee, sana.” and the way her name slips off your tongue feels right. you haven’t said it often since the falling out and it still rolls off perfectly, it feels right coming from you. you’re hesitant to talk again, feeling her eyes drill into your back. something in your heart shifts and you manage to ask, “did you want something to drink?”

“yeah,” she answers, walking over to you and sitting at the kitchen island. “same thing you’re drinking, but sweeter.”

of course she wants it sweet, just like always.

“okay.”

your back is still turned towards sana and she watches you grab another glass. as you do so, she gets a glimpse of your own glass and smiles. “is that the cup i got you?”

still fixing up her drink, you nod and answer, “yeah. it’s my favorite.”

“a lot of your gifts are my favorites too.” she admits, her voice so soft and fragile that you’re scared the thick tension in the air might break it.

sana watches you turn around, but you still avoid her gaze. you place both cups on the surface of the kitchen island and begin to pour the coconut milk mixtures into the coffee. the liquids swirl as they combine, creating a satisfying view. sana’s quick to redirect her attention back to you, staring at your face again.

last time she had saw you at dahyun’s cafe, she only had the chance to get a simple glance at your features, not enough time to fully take in everything that’s changed about your apperance. there’s two new piercings on both ears and a new, small tattoo below your ear; the length of your hair is also noticeably longer. your lips part as you swirl both cups in your hands around, and then you take a quick glance to the side, allowing sana to admire your side profile and the unique curve of your nose and lips.

you hold the mug out for her and finally meet her eyes again. sana’s favorite thing about you were your eyes, they’re still as pretty as she remembers.

it’s some thursday night during your sophomore year of high school, you were supposed to be studying with sana for your math quiz tomorrow, but she had other ideas.

“stay still,” sana mumbles softly.

she situates you in the chair near her desk and tilts your head up with the fingers holding your chin. she’s inches away from you as she puts some sort of sponge on your face, brows creasing as she does so. your heart is racing.

after a couple of minutes, sana finishes up your makeup. she’s done some type of natural look on you, nothing too heavy or bold. you look at yourself through the mirror and take a moment to examine sana’s doings. as you do so, sana can’t keep her eyes off you.

something in her heart shifts as she admires you. her eyes land on your lips, they’re oddly alluring, and sana’s cheeks burn.

“sana you’re staring… do i look weird?”

“no,” she practically breathes out, mouth slightly agape. “you’re beautiful.” she says breathlessly, her expression turning all serious it makes you giggle awkwardly.

there have been many moments where sana has found you pretty, not just physically. your small gifts and reassurance have made her heart flutter, but she’s always figured that was just because she loved you deeply as a friend. but when you stare at her with those eyes in this moment, she’s so surprised by everything she feels. she's giddy and happy and warm inside and gosh her heart wants to jump out her chest and cling onto you. she's not opposed to the feeling; she always has this feeling aorunf you and she loves it. that's why she’s always around you in the first place.

her face burns and you’re gazing at her all confused, you look so cute.

growing nervous from how non-verbal sana has been, you try to shake her out of her trance. “hey, you’re scaring me. earth to sana? hellooooo…?”

“how are you so pretty all the time.” sana’s eyes soften and her whole body relaxes as she rests her head on her palm. “like, your face is so perfect and your eyes… god y/n, whoever gets to be with you would be so lucky, seriously. like, you’re honestly the prettiest girl in our school, how do you not have a boyfriend?”

your cheeks flush from the abrupt compliment, so you push her gently and giggle. sana giggles along with you, still star-struck. you’re both young and unknowingly in love with each other—giggles and teasing seem to be the only way to hide that.

sana has always found you attractive, after all these years she still hasn’t figured out why she made the mistake of pursuing chris instead of the person who was always there for her—and ten times prettier. you’ve always been right there, she’s a fool for looking right past you.

sana grabs the mug, still making eye contact with you and both your eyes soften at the same time.

“y/n i’m sorry.” she says immediately, “i messed up really bad and—”

“sana,” you cut her off, “just enjoy the drink.” she watches you smile at her, it’s genuine and small, still enough to calm her nerves. you grab your glass and walk towards the door to the porch, tilting your head and urging her to come follow. sana figures she could pour her heart out later, if it were on the porch it wouldn’t be the first time she’s poured out her emotions there.

the two of you find a seat across from each other, the fairy lights above create some type of ambiance to ease the tension that’s hanging in the air like an invisible cloak of some sort, suffocating the two of you with its unease.

“how have you been?” sana asks. it’s cliché, but what else was she supposed to say?

you don’t look up from the drink in your hand when you respond, “good, you?”

“likewise.” sana lies, her jaw clenching.

“you know,” you begin, and with intent, your eyes meet her face and she’s doing the same as you had been doing before; she simply sits there with the drink in her hand, looking quite on edge. “i figured if i were to see you again like this, chris would be with you.”

“we broke up three months after we moved in together.” sana says quietly, “i broke up with him.”

“sana…” you mumble quietly, surprised to say the least. “why— what?”

“i ruined everything between you and i because i was so blinded by his affection, i couldn’t stay with him anymore with guilt clawing at me.” she explains, her voice breaking slightly. “and i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after hurting you. losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. god, it took everything in me to come back to you.”

“you never lost me sana,”

“i’m just… sorry for everything, i really am.” she says sincerely, “and i don’t think enough words could really explain how sorry i am.”

you look at her with pity, and despite her coldness towards you during the last semester of your senior year, you decide to let everything go. she’s your best friend after all, you promised yourself to be there.

“it’s okay.” you say, it’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “it was my fault too for letting the distance between us get larger.”

“don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” sana sighs. she takes a sip of the coffee, it’s good, of course— everything you’ve ever made for her has been great. “i only stayed with chris because i was scared. that’s why it was so easy for me to leave everyone i loved behind, i think.”

“scared? …of what?”

she looks dead into your eyes and exhales, “i realized that, that maybe i was with chris because i was trying to push down how i felt about you.”

you tilt your head in confusion, then begin to pry, “sana what do you mean—"

“y/n, i was falling for you and it terrified me. i mean, i loved you, and honestly, i think i still do. i'm so fucking dumb, god i'm just oblivious.” sana says, then immediately, your heart rate spikes and your brows raise. she continues while fidgeting with her fingers, “i guess it’s easier to admit now because we’ve grown distant, and physically we’re distant enough. chris treated me alright and loved me, but i came crying to you all the time because he never treated me like how i wanted you to treat me, i don’t know why i did that. i don’t know why i let myself go through that when i had you. every time i’d kiss him i wished it were you, every time we did anything honestly.”

sana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their glossy shine failing to hide the immense emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. the weight of her confession hung in the air, causing the entire world to momentarily freeze. it felt as though time itself had paused, giving you a moment to absorb the magnitude of her words.

sana loved you, and she still does. you loved her, and you still do.

but really, you can’t. you can’t go through with this. it’s too sudden, so unorganized and uncertain.

all of this is a recipe for disaster.

the echo of her vulnerability reverberated through the atmosphere, your mind spun in a cyclone of emotions. thoughts collided and collided again like football players during some game, leaving your head in a dizzying state of confusion, the sheer intensity of it all was jarring, leaving you all disoriented. the feelings you suppressed were finding their way back out, and you found yourself teetering on the precipice of vulnerability once again, just as you did years ago.

finding out that sana loved you still gave you hope, but the revelation also made you uneasy. it had been too long without sana, and so much had happened, so there was the chance that things would be all rocky. besides, it’s just too sudden.

“i’m— sorry for dumping all of this, i just wanted to give you closure because… well, i should’ve given you it years ago.” a tear streams down her eye as she says this, and then she begins to stand. “i should leave, i’m sorry for not letting you know i was coming— god i’m so sorry.”

“sana wait—” you start, grabbing her wrist. she looks into your eyes, her’s are still glossy. you decide it’s better to let her go for now, unsure if this is the last time you’ll see her after this—hopefully not. “it’s okay, just… be careful. you know i’m always here, always sha.”

the nickname that you made up for her makes her heart crack a little, she can only smile back at you for now.

—

the conversation between dahyun, tzuyu, and your mom is interrupted when dahyun catches the sight of sana pulling her scarf off the hook and wrapping it around her neck again. she takes account of the slight flush of her nose and cheeks, as well as her water-lined eyes.

“you’re leaving?” dahyun asks, concern clear in her tone. sana simply smiles and nods, “yeah, i’ll see you at the holiday party. it was nice seeing you too miss l/n, i missed all of this.”

“you’re always welcome honey,” your mother assures, “where’s y/n?”

“out on the porch, she said she’ll be back in a bit. i’ll see you all, thank you.” sana says before departing, leaving the three women in the living room perplexed.

a few minutes later whilst the three in the living room conjure up theories of what had happened while you and sana had been gone—you appear with a blank expression. you sit down next to your mom and lean against her, not saying a word.

tzuyu (who is only briefly caught up with whatever had happened between you and sana, and she deinfitely needs a thorough presentation on your history) looks at dahyun and tilts her head, dahyun simply shakes her own head.

“sana and i talked a bit, resolved and made things clear.” you say, answering the elephant in the room. “i’m heading up, i’m getting sleepy and i want to have some energy for the party tomorrow.” you add. “it was nice getting to know you tzuyu, you’re perfect for the idiot beside you. night everyone.” chuckling quietly in between responses.

and with that you’re walking up the stairs to your room, leaving your mom, tzuyu, and dahyun perplexed yet again.

december 25th, five o’clock pm.

you're greeting guests, various familiar faces and their parents, family friends, and whoever else you mom managed to fit on the list.

the party is lively, with people scattered in the backyard and on the little porch while your dad grills his signature bbq meats. your mom laughs with her friends as she sips on her wine, moving her hands around as she talks to emphasize her little life updates.

in the basement with you are your old high school friends: momo, her cousin mina, jaehyun, mark, johnny, seulgi, sooyoung, jeongyeon, and dahyun, who’s accompanied by tzuyu. the rest of your frineds couldn’t make it, they were probably out of town. all of them sit on the floor or couch with a can of smirnoff or soda, all chatting and laughing over old memories.

you lean against jaehyun as you laugh, letting yourself hide behind his shoulder while mark ruthlessly brings up each embarrassing phase you’ve had. what a guy, a guy you’ll be figthing soon if he keeps this up.

the feeling of your phone ringing against your palm as you hold it catches your attention, directing you from the conversation at hand. the screen shows a call from “mom♡” which earns a confused look. you answer the call, cupping the phone so you can hear her better as you answer.

“hello? did you need something?”

“hey honey, would you mind coming out for a bit? someone wants to see you.”

“someone?” you ask, “one of your friends or...?”

“just come on out sweetie.” she insistts.

“okay okay, whatever you say.” you respond before ending the call and starting to get up. jaehyun looks up at you with a quirked brow as he sips on his drink. you look back and shrug, “my mom wants me to meet ‘someone,’ probably one of her friends or something. i won’t be long.” you respond to him and let the others know.

"alright, take your time," jaehyun says with a nod, setting his drink down. "hopefully, it won't be too boring," he adds with a small smirk, teasing you gently. you roll your eyes playfully in response before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the sliding door.

you were right about the guess on seeing your mom's friend, or—friends. however, the sudden chill you get when seeing the minatozaki’s on the porch makes you tense up.

they're standing there, glasses of wine in their hands as they look at you. sana's mom has a smile on her face, so does her dad. you walk up to them and try to shake off your nerves, fully hugging sana’s mom and giving sana’s dad a side hug.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?” sana’s mom says, putting her hand on your shoulder and grinning. “it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“likewise.” you respond, melting into relaxation the more you get used to this atmosphere. “how have you all been?”

after a tense reunion with sana’s parents, they find out about your ambitions and what you’ve been up to. not much is mentioned about the falling out between you and their daughter, but the thought most definitely lingers in the cold, winter air.

sana's parents tell you about an internship she earned at a hospital her first year, saying they’re proud of her for helping others and the bonus of the nice paycheck that came with the experience. they tell you she’s found herself a guaranteed transfer to your school and that she’s excited to help even more people in the nursing program. it sounds like sana’s a great person, she’s always wanted to help others, it makes you smile and nod as her parents update you on what she’s been up to.

but there’s this feeling of uncertainty and sorrow brewing. the fact that you have to hear about sana from anyone but her breaks you a bit, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t hesitate to update each other back then. now, it seems like you’re missing a chunk of memories that you could’ve shared with sana.

“we asked her to come to the party.” mr. minatozaki says, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “she said she’d consider it.”

“oh, i see.” you respond, nodding whilst looking at the ground.

part of you is glad that she’s not here, but who are you kidding, there would never be a time where you’d be dissapointed to catch her near you, despite the paranoia taking over.

“well, it’s nice to catch up y/n. we've missed you, it’s great to see how well you’re doing. your parents must be proud.” mr. minatozaki concludes, looking at you with admiration.

“yeah, thanks.” you say, “well, i'll leave you to talk to my parents, but i'll stop by again to talk to you two. it's really nice to catch up, i've missed you guys too, and your wonderful dinners.” you add jokingly, earning a laugh from the couple.

sana's mom kisses your temple and hugs you, then lets you walk back into the house.

it seems like this whole night has been full of surprises—scratch that, at this point, everything is a surprise ever since you've been back in town. especially now, because once you step into the kitchen, there’s a familiar woman who’s making your knees weak all over again.

“y/n, hey.” sana greets softly, smiling at you.

she's just hung up her scarf on the little hook near the fridge, the same place she’d always hang it back then. there was this unspoken rule that when sana was here, there were certain spaces that belonged to her; the hook near the fridge, the chair at the dining table closest to the living room, the right side of your bed, and the left side of the couch in the basement.

still, you’re pissed at the fact she had practically cut you off completely over a boy just to come back years later to win you back. it irritated you how easy it was for sana to convince you, but you were much angrier at the thought of her coming back to see you because her and chris didn’t work out. was she serious about the breakup? was that all it took to forget that she had caused so much mental turmoil?

despite this, her being in your house again and seeing her at this christmas party like years before; everything reminds you of the fact that sana had always lingered in your home.

“hey, didn’t think you’d make it.” you respond, watching her shrug.

“my parents said your signature cookies are here, i had to.”

can't be the only reason, you want to mumble, but your lips stay sealed.

sana speaks again, “i stole a couple, ate some earlier actually. still as great as i remembered.”

“thanks.” you mutter, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “did you want to talk about something?”

“what do you mean?”

“there’s a reason you came, and i know it’s for me since you’re not in the basement with everyone else. we both know that’s the signature spot.”

sana cringes at your tone, but gives in.

“i just wanted to see you, and hopefully talk to you normally.”

it's taking everything in you to hold your ground, to protect yourself from this sudden appearance that’s making you all uneasy again. you can’t let sana screw you up again with a simple visit, you can’t.

“i know you’re sorry but sana, you treated me so terribly. do you know how much i cried? how fucking terrible i felt after losing my friend of years to chris?” you seethe, sighing. “part of me wants to start over, maybe try again—but how can i do that when there’s the chance of you throwing away everything, we rebuild over another stupid fucking guy.”

she looks at you with guilt in her eyes, her shoulders sinking and words jumbling in her throat.

“y/n, nothing—no one, despite what i've done to you, will ever make me forget how much i love you. there's always a space in my heart for you.”

you scoff, anger flowing throughout you now, then walk over to her. she stands against the frame of the entrance, you stand in front of her now, looking down slightly. sana's looking at you directly in the eye, you can see the hurt and regret in her eyes; her look brings you back to your senses.

“how do i know you’re not bluffing? sana, every ounce of me wants to redo this.” your voice cracks slightly, the hurt evident in your tone.

“you just have to trust me, i'm sorry, i'm really sorry.”

you feel like curling up into a ball and hiding, the way your chest tightens makes you want to cry a bit.

the party ends around one in the morning, considering the fact that some of the attendants are adults that don’t have the energy to party until the sunrises.

jaehyun’s just crossed the line, now slurring his words and laughing stupidly while he gets touchy with the guys, so mark ends up driving him home. johnny catches a ride with seulgi and sooyoung. with them gone, you’re in the basement with momo, mina, dahyun, and tzuyu. all five of you end the night with some recollections of memories, momo’s recent date, mina’s annoying professor, and before you know it you all are hugging goodbye.

you've already gone through three cans of the smirnoff cans, it hadn’t done much except make you a little more giggly and talkative. you were a little tipsy, that was all.

throughout the night, tzuyu and dahyun exchange glances, their eyes meeting repeatedly, dahyuns hand rubbing tzuyu’s thigh, and the little smiles they give each other. all of it doesn’t go unnoticed – at least by you – and hints at the potential for something you don’t want to think of in detail once they return home.

as you observe their subtle interactions, a pang of envy stirs within you, longing for that same allure and anticipation. amidst the swirling emotions, a sense of emptiness creeps in, amplified by the beers you’ve had. you're left to ponder on what’s making you feel hollow, still feeling bad after raising your voice at sana earlier.

you can’t feel bad, you shouldn’t. whatever you did wasn’t comparable to her practically pretending you didn’t exist for almost two years.

after rolling your eyes and saying some stupid joke to dahyun and tzuyu – the last to leave the house – you head back to the basement.

of course, sana had to be sitting on the couch, head turned towards the tv as she sipped on a beer.

“hey.” you mutter, earning her attention as she turns away from the christmas movie you paused earlier.

“hi.” sana greets.

every ounce of anger, irritation, and dread had been squeezed out your body at the sight of her. you genuinely think it’s the alcohol that’s making you rethink everything, making it hard to fight back that voice in your head that’s trying to stay reserved and petty.

sana sits there, her gaze fixed on you with intensity. her glasses are perched on her nose, a familiar sight whenever she's engrossed in watching tv or anything like that. the sight only adds to her charm, making her look even more adorable. you can't help but notice her favorite cardigan draped over her shoulders – the fluffy, white knit cardigan she adores so much –it's a cherished gift from your mother, and she's held onto it all these years. her eyes bore into yours, drilling into your skull and compelling you to plop down beside her as if nothing had ever transpired between you. you surrender, maybe it’s the late hours of the night, maybe the beer, o rmaybe just sana.

(it’s probably just sana.)

she turns back to the movie playing, some stupid romcom jaehyun had put on as background noise.

your eyes trace the curve of her nose, lingering on her lips and the impeccable contour of her jawline as she remains fixated on the tv screen. her side profile captivates you for a moment, holding you in some sort of spell until she breaks the silence with her soft voice.

“i think our parents are playing card games in the kitchen.”

“probably betting money too.”

“remember when your dad took your christmas money for their game?” sana asks, giggling at the memory. her eyes are still fixed on the screen, you decide to tune into the movie too. “didn’t he lose too?”

“yeah.” you sigh, sinking into the couch. “he paid me back double the next day though.”

“so it was worth it?”

“yeah, i think we went out to eat with that money.”

sana turns to gaze at you, her eyes tracing the soft contours of your profile in the dimly lit room. the glow from the tv accentuates her favorite features of yours, and she finds herself lost in the sight before her. for a while, she simply stares, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop the moment.

you turn to look at her now, you two just stare at each other for a while more.

“maybe we can try again.” you mumble, giving into the beauty in front of you. “every part of me is against the idea.”

“that’s understandable.” sana agrees. she sighs before adding, “you don’t have to try again.”

“i know.” you assure, “but i think we should.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i know, sana.”

as the music from the tv fills the room, silence once again settles between you and sana. you know that you can't let this opportunity slip away – it's everything you've wanted, and deep down, you realize it's everything you've needed too.

there's a mistletoe that’s hung above the two of you, it’s been there the whole time, both of you were aware of it. it dangles from the light tantalizingly, but neither of you do anything about it. neither you or sana even mention it. your mind races to the memory of dahyun and tzuyu kissing each other under it and part of you wants to kiss sana like that, but you won’t let her kiss and make up.

you reach out, your fingers gently intertwining with hers. you lift her hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against your own. softly, you press a kiss upon the back of her hand, you linger in the intimacy of the gesture.

the two of you sit there for a moment, letting the world around you two fade away.

everything about the moment renders you weak. you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, a second chance is enough to patch things up. if it’s with sana, then maybe it’s worth it.

#sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice x reader #minatozaki sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana x reader

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atlabeth · 6 months

Text

everything happens for a reason part 22 - zuko x fem!reader

I've been waiting on you

part 21 | masterlist | part 23

a/n: UHHH happy one year anniversary of me not updating!! i missed it by a day but honestly that's very in character. i kind of have no excuse for taking a year long break from this. lol. all i can really say is i lost all my avatar inspo and got really into a bunch of other things and poor little ehfar got left in the corner abandoned!!! but i could never abandon this it's my baby and even if it takes me 1000 years to finish it i will finish it. it's kind of embarrassing that it took so long for this to come out and it's a short filler chapter like who do i think i am.... but everyone is happy and on the beach and yn finally gets some clothes of her own after spending like 7 chapters in prison clothes. anyways enjoy (three more chapters left what?? will it take me 3 years who knows)

wc: 4.8k

warning(s): yn and zuko talk about their pasts and what theyve been through but overall this is a very fluffy chapter

chapter title from seasons (waiting on you) by future islands

The days after their arrival back to the island passed by with relative ease.

Y/N practiced waterbending with Katara and Aang so she could work on getting the hang of it again. She’d been close to mastery before Ba Sing Se, and her muscle memory was stronger than she realized, but prison and the months without her bending had weakened her. Zuko continued working with Aang on his firebending under the looming deadline of the comet.

Sokka and Suki trained with each other too, working on their hand to hand and sword fighting, and Y/N would occasionally join in to stay sharp on what Suki had taught her back in prison. Her time without her bending made her realize how much she relied solely on it, and she never wanted to feel defenseless again.

They continued to share stories every night over a campfire. They all had plenty to talk about after everything they’d been through, especially when Zuko had been against them for half the time, Suki was leading the Kyoshi Warriors, and Y/N was stuck behind bars.

And of course, Zuko and Y/N spent as much time together as they possibly could. They were practically attached at the hip—sitting together at meals, watching one another bend on their breaks, training against each other the way they used to, exploring the island together, just being with each other. After everything they’d been through, Y/N thought they deserved it.

Eventually though, it was decided that they had to leave. Being in Fire Nation territory, even in the middle of nowhere, was risky. They were running out of food and supplies in general, and the possibility that Fire Nation ships would still somehow discover them weighed on their minds. They couldn’t afford to get caught so far into their mission, especially with the traitor prince of the Fire Nation on their side.

Zuko’s idea, however, was possibly even riskier.

“Ember Island?” Y/N asked hesitantly. “That’s… bold.”

“We’re already being bold by staying in Fire Nation territory,” Zuko said. “We’re safe from Azula for now, but it’s only a matter of time before she somehow finds us again.” He shrugged. “My family’s vacation home is the last spot anyone will think to look.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sokka said. “It’ll be nice to not fight for our lives for a minute before we make the final push.”

Aang adjusted his hold on the reins—they’d already packed up Appa and started flying before Zuko proposed his idea—and shrugged. “I’m okay with it. Zuko and I will be able to keep training, and you all can relax in an actual house.”

“And we’ll be able to go to the beach!” Toph exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to work on my sandbending. And,” she grinned, “I’m betting none of you have heard of sandball fights.”

“We’re really getting ourselves into something,” Katara said dryly.

Y/N smiled and she leaned into Zuko’s side. He wrapped his arm around her immediately and pulled her closer.

“I’ve always wondered what Ember Island was like,” Y/N mused. “I was always so jealous when you and Azula got to go there on vacation every summer and I was stuck at the palace.”

“You weren’t missing much,” Zuko said wryly. “Yeah, there’s beaches, but mostly it was just unbearably hot.” He frowned. “My father still made me do work even when we were supposed to be on vacation. I’ve done a lot of swordfighting here.”

“I missed you,” she said, and she knew that she would never get tired of seeing Zuko’s cheeks flush red.

“Really?” he asked. “Even then?”

“Especially then,” she clarified. “It wasn’t like I had much going on for me there. The palace was extremely boring without you.”

“Spirits, you guys are gross,” Sokka groaned as he looked out at the sky. “Suki and I haven’t been like this, have we?”

Katara chuckled. “You definitely have. You could barely stay off of each other when you got back from the Boiling Rock.”

“Just imagine what they were like when they first got back together,” Zuko said with a frown.

“Neither of you can say anything,” Toph asserted. “I can hear both of your heartbeats shoot up every time you’re around Y/N and Suki.”

Zuko scowled, Sokka’s face flushed, and Suki and Y/N just smiled at each other.

“So Ember Island is a yes?” Aang asked. When everyone nodded in agreement, he looked at Zuko. “I’m in need of your navigation skills, Sifu Hotman.”

He groaned. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“I know,” Aang said cheerfully.

Zuko just sighed, and he kissed Y/N on the cheek before he moved to sit next to Aang. She smiled, and she let her hand hang over the side of the saddle.

“...I guess it is nice not seeing you two argue all the time,” Sokka said after a moment.

“It’s nice that you two aren’t moping around all the time either,” Toph added. “That was kind of annoying.”

“Imagine how I felt,” Y/N said, though it was absent minded as her gaze stayed on Zuko.

“I don’t have to imagine it,” Toph said. “You were very clearly mopey.”

“And when you weren’t mopey, you were angry,” Suki contributed. “You said you were imagining Zuko’s face whenever I taught you new moves at the Boiling Rock. You beat him up a lot there.”

Sokka and Toph laughed, but it was a moment before she said anything. It took Katara saying her name for her to turn back around, and when Y/N did, she blinked for a moment. “What?”

Katara chuckled, glancing at Zuko before she looked back at her. “We’re just glad you’re back.”

Her expression instantly brightened as she smiled. “I’m glad to be back.”

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at Ember Island—and if it did, Y/N was far too busy conversing with her friends and watching Zuko for it to matter. She grimaced as she slid off of Appa, one hand taking Zuko’s and the other wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.

“Spirits,” she mumbled, “I thought I was used to Fire Nation heat by now.”

“Me too,” Sokka groaned. “But this is already worse than all the other places we’ve been to.”

“Ember Island’s always been like this,” Zuko said. “The good news is that it’s Ember Island. There’s plenty of beaches—we’ve even got our own private one.”

“Good for practicing waterbending,” Katara said with a glance at Aang.

“Good for practicing all kinds of bending,” Zuko said. “You’re gonna need to practice your firebending every day if you want to stand a chance against my father. We’re running out of time and you’re nowhere close to being a master.”

Aang frowned. “Way to bring down the mood, Zuko.”

“I’m being realistic!” he defended. “You can’t just end one hundred years of war with some good luck and an optimistic mindset!”

Sokka shrugged. “It’s worked for us so far.”

Zuko opened his mouth to say something that would definitely cause an argument. Before he could, Y/N laughed, looping her arm through his and tugging him along.

“Come on,” she said. “Show us around.”

Zuko sighed, though his show of annoyance was negated as he pulled Y/N closer. “Fine. It is about time I’ve brought you here.”

“Ugh.” Toph kicked at the sand with her foot. “I think Zuko’s just brought us along on his couples vacation.”

“Oh, quiet,” she joked. “We’ve earned it.”

Toph stuck her tongue out. “Doesn’t mean we can’t complain about it.”

Y/N chuckled as they walked together, the rest of the group trailing behind them.

“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka marveled when they stepped inside the house. “This is huge.”

“It is the summer home of the royal family,” he said dryly. “My father never settles for anything less than perfection. It also gave us more room to avoid each other when he was causing arguments.”

“I can’t imagine that happened a lot,” Katara said sarcastically.

“Never,” Zuko agreed with the same tone. “He almost burned down the place a few times.”

Aang frowned. “Sounds like a great guy.”

“I know you’re not a violence guy, but if there’s anyone you’d enjoy fighting, it’s my dad,” Zuko muttered.

“I’ll do it for the good of the world,” Aang said. “Not because I’ll enjoy it.”

Zuko grimaced and opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N interrupted once more before they could devolve into this conversation again.

“Like Sokka said, this place is huge.” She placed a hand on Zuko’s arm. “Will we have our own rooms?”

Zuko’s brows creased a bit, but he nodded after a moment. “Yeah. There should be enough for all of us.”

“Suki and I can share,” Sokka said, stretching his arms out casually to reach one around Suki. She laughed and leaned her head against his chest, and he looked far too pleased with himself. “Tryna make up for lost time, y’know?”

“Gross,” Toph scoffed. “I’ll take my own room, please.”

Aang glanced at Katara for a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded at Zuko. “Yeah. Me too.”

Katara was too busy looking at a mask sitting on a mantle. She picked it up and glanced back at Zuko. “What is this from?”

“One of my mother’s favorite plays,” he said. “She was an actress before she married my father, and every time we came here, we’d always go see some shows. They gave her the mask of the lead character after the end of one production a few years ago, as thanks for her patronage.”

“Oh, we should definitely go see a play while we’re here!” Y/N exclaimed. “I got my hands on some old play scripts when I was still working in the palace, and the other servants and I would spend hours reenacting our favorite parts.” She chuckled. “It would be nice to see actual actors do it.”

“We should be able to carve out some time for that,” Zuko said. “Between all the training, of course.”

“You are such a downer,” Aang groaned.

“I’m seeing the full picture!” he defended. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do—just because we’re at our vacation home doesn’t mean we’re on vacation.”

“After all this is over, we definitely deserve a vacation,” Sokka muttered. “Before all the rebuilding and restructuring and relegislating starts…” The smile fell from his face. “Wow. We’re never gonna get a vacation.”

“Oh, perk up, ponytail,” Toph said. “We’re going to end the endless war and defeat the undefeatable Fire Lord. If we want to take a vacation, no one can really stop us.”

The smile reappeared with surprising quickness. “That’s true!”

Zuko laughed softly. “Your rooms should be on the first floor. You can explore and divide the rooms yourselves. I,” he looked at Y/N, “want to show you something.”

She smiled as Zuko pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulder and made for the stairs, leaving a rapidly growing argument over room selection in their wake.

“Do you think they’ll have decided by the time we get back down?” Zuko asked.

Y/N shrugged. “This is the first time they’re sleeping in rooms instead of camping on the ground in… Spirits. Since Ba Sing Se, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go at it all night.”

He chuckled as they stopped in front of a room, and Zuko pushed open the door so they could walk in together.

“This was my room whenever we came here,” he said. “I figured we could share it.”

“This is the height of luxury,” Y/N commented, stepping out of Zuko’s embrace to run her hand over the sheets. Her lips quirked into a smile. “I can’t believe you slept on a bed like this every night.”

“You’re telling me they don’t have this kind of stuff in the North?” Zuko asked wryly.

“No,” she chuckled, “definitely not. We were more focused on not freezing.”

“Well, we’re more focused on pointless displays of luxury,” he said, “so you’re not too far off.”

Zuko ignited the tip of his finger and began lighting candles around the room, and Y/N glanced at him with amusement as she sat down on the bed.

“Mood lighting,” he explained with the sliver of a smile. “I think we deserve some time alone after the past few days.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “You know the way straight to my heart.”

Once he was done he sat down next to her, and Y/N intertwined their hands together and pulled him down so they were laying on their backs. She rested her head on Zuko’s chest and he moved his arm around her to keep her close, tracing lazy circles on her shoulder.

“Wonderful mattress,” she sighed. “So this was what you were up to while I was sewing clothes and doing endless loads of laundry.”

“I thought about you a lot more than you probably think,” Zuko said. She turned her head a bit to look at him, slightly surprised, and he shrugged. “Honestly? When we were kids, I thought about you pretty much constantly. My father always told me not to talk to servants, but I didn’t see you as anything other than my friend. You were… kind of my only normal friend.”

“Well, you were kind of my only friend, period. All the other servants were way older—they just felt like a different version of my mom.” Y/N’s gaze rose to the ceiling. “I wonder how they’re all doing.”

“They should be okay,” Zuko said. “No one really caused as much trouble as we did.”

Y/N laughed as her gaze flitted around the room, taking in all the details. A portrait of the royal family hung on the wall, while a much smaller, lone portrait of Zuko sat on a desk in the corner. He didn’t look very happy, but she couldn’t imagine sitting for that many paintings as a child was fun. What looked to be a half-finished message sat on the desk, the ends of the scroll rolling up and obscuring most of the inked letters. A neat stack of towels and blankets were on top of a clothing chest in the other corner, and she chuckled a bit. In her experience of doing his laundry in their youth, it seemed to be something he still hadn’t grown out of.

“I can practically see little Zuko running in here after a day at the beach,” she mused. “The ends of his clothes singed from fighting with Azula, his hair drenched from swimming, getting sand all over the sheets.”

“I wasn’t that messy of a child,” he complained. “I… I did come home with my clothes singed a couple times, though.”

She chuckled. “I know. My mother had to fix a lot of your outfits because of it.”

“It’s not my fault that ‘hide and blast’ was her idea of fun!” he defended.

“Hide and blast?”

“One person hides, the other person searches. By… blasting fire everywhere.” Zuko shook his head. “I don’t know all kids around the Fire Nation were as crazy as us or if Azula invented it herself.”

“...Yeah,” Y/N said with a slight laugh. “We definitely didn’t play that in my village.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said. “None of you were firebenders.”

“I was the only waterbender in the village though,” she said. “There were a couple other earthbender kids, but it made me feel so special. We would always play together and try to mix our bending together.” A small yet wistful smile tugged at her lips. “That feels like forever ago, though.”

“I know what you mean,” Zuko murmured. “I was banished three years ago, but a lifetime has changed since then.”

“For the better?” Y/N murmured.

She could feel Zuko nod. “Definitely.”

Their door was then pushed open more, and Suki poked her head in through the gap. A grin appeared on her face at their closeness.

“I see the lovebirds are making themselves at home,” she mused.

Y/N laughed as she sat up, pulling Zuko with her. She smiled at the sight of his flushed cheeks. “We’re trying.”

“We believe in knocking here in the Fire Nation,” Zuko grumbled.

“The door was open,” Suki said cheerfully. “And I’d like to steal your girl for an afternoon outing.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What for?”

“Well, I’d like to explore the island some, and I figure we’re the lowest profile out of our whole group,” she said. “We’ve also missed out on some shopping while we were stuck in prison—we’ve gotta get our hands on some Fire Nation clothes.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea! Leya’s dress is beautiful, but Earth Kingdom clothing sticks out a bit more than I want.”

“And I’m in literal prison clothes,” Suki said. “The sooner we’re in red, the better.”

“That’s… probably smart,” Zuko amended. “There’s some gold pieces in my bag. It should be more than enough for both of you.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned. “You don’t have to—”

“You think I didn’t take a bunch of money from the palace before I left?” Zuko asked wryly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Suki’s smile grew. “Just call it reparations.”

Zuko huffed a laugh, but Y/N cut him off as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“You’ll be alright while we’re gone?”

“Of course,” he said. “This is my home, after all. If anything, I should be asking you that.”

“I’ve got the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors with me,” Y/N said. “If anyone decides to mess with us, it’s going to be their problem—not ours.”

Suki laughed and gestured with her head, and Y/N stood up and started walking backwards. “I’ll see you later—try to have some fun here.”

“I don’t have fun,” he called out as she was walking out, and she just shook her head with a smile.

“You’re really dating a ball of sunshine there, aren’t you?” Suki joked.

Y/N bit back her growing smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The rest of the day went by in a breeze.

Y/N and Suki spent a few hours in town, chatting and shopping and even doing some reconnaissance at the end, just to make sure they were truly undercover at the vacation home. Doing rookie spy work with a Kyoshi Warrior was surprisingly just as fun as the shopping part—and after what she and Zuko did to free her village, it was surprisingly easy.

The sun was still high in the sky when they got back, dressed head to toe in Fire Nation finery. Zuko and Aang were in the midst of training when the two of them went around back to find their friends, and when he saw Y/N, his fire died out and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

(“Yeah,” Zuko had stammered when she asked his opinion, “You look really good.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “I feel pretty good.”

“Fire Nation clothes suit you,” he said, and he pulled her into a kiss. “It’s about time you’ve gotten some.”

“Technically, I wore them for a few months,” she said wryly. “Prison clothes and all.”

Zuko scoffed. “That doesn’t count.”

“And I wore them for most of my childhood,” she mused. “Servant clothes and all.”

“That counts even less!” he insisted.

“But thank you,” Y/N finally said with a smile. “I was hoping you would like them.”

It was an effort to bite back her joy every time Zuko would sneak a look at her while they continued their training.)

The rest of the day was just mostly spent getting used to everything. The last time the vacation home had been occupied was when Zuko, Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee visited, so a lot of adjustments needed to be made.

Katara insisted on washing all the sheets, and Y/N decided to join in because of her waterbending—Aang wanted to talk with Katara, Zuko wanted to be with Y/N, Toph wanted to ask him a bunch of questions about Ember Island, and Sokka didn’t want to be left out, so soon enough, the seven of them were all sitting on the steps of the house doing laundry and telling stories.

Soon enough, the sun had set and the house had been cleaned what felt like ten times over. Everyone had retired to their own devices except for Y/N and Zuko, who were walking along the shore arm in arm.

“I think I like beaches,” she mused. “The nearest ocean had no beach back home, and all we had in the North was ice. You Fire Nation folk are lucky.”

Zuko chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s luck. We’re just one big island with a lot of humidity.”

“Still,” she leaned her head on his shoulder, “it’s nice. We should visit here together once all this is over.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I know I’m going to be the Fire Lord if all goes well, but there’s going to be a lot of diplomacy trips.” She felt his eyes on her. “You can join me on all of them.”

“Of course,” she repeated. “The Fire Lord’s Earth Kingdom-born, waterbending girlfriend will be so welcome.”

“If you’ve learned one thing through all of this, it should be that I don’t care what anyone thinks when it comes to you,” Zuko said. “I want you there with me. You want to be there with me. That’s reason enough.”

Y/N chuckled, and she ran her thumb over Zuko’s knuckles. His hands housed callouses, borne from hundreds of hours of explosive firebending and sword-fighting and years of life on the road. She always wondered how hands that treated her so softly, that revered her, were so capable of violence.

“I know there’s going to be a lot of expectations for us,” she said. “Especially once you take the throne. But I— I’d like to take things as slow as we can.”

“Of course.” Zuko squeezed her hand, his brows creasing. “I don’t care what anyone says or wants or expects. I love you, Y/N—we’ll go at our own pace.”

“It’s just because we’ve spent the past year trying to kill each other,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh. “If we could spend this next year being in love with each other, that would be really great.”

That actually got a laugh out of Zuko, and he gestured with his head towards the sand. When they sat down, he pulled her into his side. They fit perfectly together.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I think we’ve already gotten a headstart on that.”

“Good,” she said.

Y/N sighed as she moved closer into Zuko’s embrace, his warmth a shield from the cool night breeze. She’d always run cold, and having a personal hearth made things much easier.

“I wish we didn’t have to go through so much to end up with each other,” she murmured.

“Believe me,” Zuko sighed, “I know.”

“But my mother always told me that everything happens for a reason,” Y/N said. “And… I guess she’s right. Because I don’t think we would be here if all this hadn’t happened.” Something inside of her twisted, and though she tried to suppress it, the words came out before she could really think about it. “And sometimes I— I wonder why I’m still here.”

He frowned slightly, allowing a short glance down at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you know what I’ve had to go through to get here. My village, the palace, the North, this journey with Aang, the capital prison, the Boiling Rock…” she shook her head. “Countless others have died or gotten hurt trying to protect me or save me. Our group— we were the first ones ever to escape from the Boiling Rock. So why do I get to be here? Why is my father gone, but I’m still here? I don’t deserve it more than he did. I certainly don’t deserve it more than Yue. So… I don’t know. Sometimes I just can’t understand why I’m the one that got to make it when so many others haven’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Zuko urged.

“It’s not the way you think,” Y/N said honestly. “It just feels like we’ve beaten every single odd.”

“Maybe we have,” he said, “but it’s certainly not out of luck, or chance.” Zuko took her hand and intertwined their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. “You fought every step of the way to get here—a lot of the time, you were fighting against me. You’ve earned every good thing you’ve gotten, Y/N, and I think I might spend the rest of my life trying to be someone worthy of you.”

“Zuko,” she lamented, “you already are.”

“It’s not the way you think,” he echoed wryly. “I’ve loved you since the beginning, and despite everything, you still love me too. You kept giving me chances because you believed in me for some stupid reason. I wouldn’t be where I am without that—without you. I want to be the best version of myself every day so you know you made the right choice.”

Y/N felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she smiled, squeezing his hand back. Nowadays, they were almost always touching in some way. Tonight reminded her why—she never felt more comforted, more at peace, then when she was with Zuko.

“You… kind of just hit my next point,” she said with a nervous chuckle, curling into his side further.

“Don’t tell me it’s more self-doubt,” Zuko said.

“I can’t help it!” she defended. “I— I just have to make sure.”

“Of what?”

“That…” Y/N paused, her mouth suddenly dry. “That I’m still the one you want. Even after all that’s happened. After all that’s going to happen.”

Zuko frowned, and he took her other hand, lacing their fingers together. “Of course. Y/N, it’s always been you. It’s been true forever, even if I haven’t always known it.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” she said softly. “I’m Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom. Your people aren’t just going to accept that, especially with you as their leader.”

Zuko actually laughed at that, and he gave her a sideways smile. Months ago, staring into his hardened eyes used to bring her close to tears. Seeing him smile now, reassuring doubts that seemed so pointless in the face of his love—even after everything, Y/N considered herself the luckiest girl in the world.

“Y/N, we’ve gone across the whole world doing things no one ever has,” Zuko said. “The seven of us are going to end a war that’s been going on for a century. Aang is going to defeat my father, and he shouldn’t even be alive. We’ve beat every single odd against us. I think getting my people to like you will be the easiest thing we have to handle.”

“You think so?” she asked. The tension had dissolved some from her shoulders, her worries dissuading with each honeyed word.

“I know so,” Zuko assured. “I’m gonna have to change the Fire Nation from the ground up. There’s no one else I’d want by my side while I do it. My people will see you the way I do, and they’ll love you just as much.”

Y/N leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. Sometimes she still couldn’t get over the fact that she could just… do that. Just kiss him, just smile with him, just be happy with him. Yue shone down on them as she pulled away, Zuko’s features glowing in the moonlight, and Y/N hoped her friend knew she was so much of the reason she’d gotten here.

Happiness seemed out of reach, out of her cards entirely, for such a long time, and when she had it, it always felt like such a precarious thing. Sometimes she still remembered those days in the tea shop, the night in the catacombs.

But with Zuko finally by her side, it was a tangible thing. Something she deserved. Something she already had.

“We’ll do it all together,” she murmured.

“Together,” Zuko agreed.

And she laid back down on the sand, bringing Zuko with her. He pulled her closer, tucked into his side as he wrapped his arm around her. They laid there in silence, Zuko’s warmth heating her from the inside out, staring up at the starry night sky and reveling in the feeling of just being with each other.

Together.

i'll tag ppl here because it's been uhhhhhh fucking YEAR and everyone's prob forgotten it exists and i also did tag lists while this was coming out but please do not ask to be added bc i dont do them anymore!!

ehfar tags: @chandies-sideblog @zacatecanaaaa @anzanity @randomthingssssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy @whats-my-question @selfship-mishaps @ilistentotayswifttocope @i-make-questionable-choices @3leni @thatobsessedreader @lostgreekgod @oriontingz @zerode-unhinged @badpvn @mimi-sanisanidiot @adhdhufflepuff @aquaamethyst96 @hollyismentallyillhelp @holypoetrygarden @islandgayneery @pitrii-petra @jinxed-jk @veras-fanfic-reblogs @cloud-9ine @lucifersidepiece @kiskzawagnerwhore @froggi-00 @eajalova @mrsyixingunicorn10 @xxxxxxdelenaxxxxxx @cafesho @the-natureofme @whoevenfrickinknows @a-bit-late @zukowantshishonourback @settlebackeasy @jemssafespace @wildwallflower24 @calmoistorm @mich1551-blog @inutheangel @sagemastah @avrilh

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x reader fic #zuko #zuko fic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla x reader #avatar x reader #sadie writes #ehfar

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heavenbarnes · 8 months

Text

I'm losing it lately

Sydney Adamu x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with fem pronouns, swearing, pining and yearning, syd's general disdain towards reader at first, alcohol, carmy and richie are also (cluelessly) into reader, mentions of knives, mention of alcohol (syd drinks but reader doesn't), stripping, face sitting, fingering, finger sucking, body worship, syd's breaking into her dirty talk game (she also calls reader a slut (endearing) once in her head).

Word Count: 4.9k

Working title was "Notes on being Sydney's Lacy." This is loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo's song 'Lacy' and the concept of thinking you hate a girl but you actually just want her to [REDACTED].

You.

It was as if everywhere Sydney looked, all she could find was you.

The glow in your eyes, the curl of your smile, the rise and fall of your shoulders every time you so much as laughed or ran a knife through a fresh vegetable.

From the moment Sydney rose in the morning, her slow routine to get her even halfway ready for the day ahead of her, to the train ride to the restaurant, to the cool walk up to the front doors. All she could think of was…

You.

Your voice was the first thing to catch Sydney’s ear when she walked into the locker room. Hanging up bags and fixing on an apron, the only sound she could even register was you.

Captivating Richie with just the way you sounded your words, you could’ve been reading him the phone book and it would’ve garnered the same reaction.

That was just the way you were. Richie hung on your every word, Carmy’s eyes followed you as you swept through the kitchen, even Fak found himself more distracted than usual when you breezed past.

Sydney, on the other hand, was less mystified by your “charms.”

She tried to sneak into the kitchen unnoticed, get to her station and get her prep done quickly and painlessly. As usual, Sydney had little say in what would actually occur.

The hand that holds the cards was always you.

“Sydney,” The way you said it was almost like a sigh, a sigh of relief, a breath that was held.

Your smile, wide eyed and pretty. You looked utterly sweet, like spun sugar, like something to break your teeth on, like stuck to your fingers and not going anywhere.

“How are you this morning?”

Sydney had to fight not to roll her eyes, undoing her knife bag as she shrugged her shoulders. “You know, same shit, different day.”

It didn’t deter you, if anything you nodded with a knowing smile. Your shoulder worked over time, spatula in hand as you folded in whatever was in your bowl. You dipped your eyes for only a moment before you fixed back on Syd.

“Are you coming tonight?”

It had almost escaped her, Sydney had almost forgot the drinks that the rest of the team had organised for tonight. Team building, strengthening the relationship of the kitchen.

Sugar was actually the first to suggest it, Carmy wasn’t too sure until he’d heard your excitement. You’d clapped your hands together, exclamations of how fun it’d be. You even tried to get Syd in agreement but it wasn’t that easy. Suddenly, Carmy was a lot more onboard with the idea.

Go figure.

Sydney had tried to feign other responsibilities, that she wouldn’t be able to make it. Now it was down to the day and there was nowhere for her to hide. She also knew that if she didn’t show up, Carmy would make her life hell about it.

Snapping back into focus, Sydney realised that there were expectant eyes on her. Your expectant eyes, never wavering, still the kindness and sticky sweetness behind them.

Sydney had also realised that, when she walked in, Richie had been in the middle of chewing your ear off. She also realised that you’d completely stalled his conversation for the chance to have this meaningless back and forth with her.

She felt her shoulders tense at the idea of it. Just what were you getting at?

“Uh, yeah- sure, I’ll be there.”

Your eyes lit up like you were staring into the sun. Your cheeks rose high and your eyes squinted just a little as you nodded your head.

“Good, looks like I will be too then.”

Sydney couldn’t take it, she took a knife from the fold and dropped her head to focus on her prep. Thankfully, she could hear Richie’s voice pick back up and do his best to get the discarded conversation back on track.

That made it easier, she found herself running right through her prep without having to deal with the thought of you. It made things a breeze, her technique was better, things were more aligned.

Of course, the moment she lifted her gaze across the bench, you were already looking at her as Richie’s words went in one ear and out the other.

Lord give her strength.

Sydney did not want to be in a bar, that was one thing for sure.

A second thing, she did not want to be here with the team.

Sure, she loved these people, but after a long day on her feet she actually wanted to be in bed watching another aimless show about luxury real estate.

She’d fall asleep to the dulcet tones of a turn key cliffside mansion with marble counter tops and she’d dream of rolling dough against them. She’d imagine the flour falling from her fingertips and stopping the mixture from sticking.

Sydney would feel the cool breeze of her dream drifting through the sliding doors from the infinity pool area, and she’d hear the creak of the glass as someone pushed it open. Like always, her dreams would betray her and there you would be.

You’d walk towards her like you owned the place, the towel would be draped around you and slowly starting to fall when Sydney would wake up with a start, quickly turning off the television.

Thankfully, she’d be saved from that nightmare.

Anyway, that’s where she wants to be. Not here, not in this dimly lit bar where the music is a bit too loud and definitely not her taste.

Not here where Carmy is buying you a drink and trying to ask you questions with his lips just mere moments from your ear.

She imagined his breath was sweaty, that it’d tickle the side of your neck and you’d shiver a bit and wish that he’d stop and just let you thank him for the drink.

Her thoughts were confirmed, in a way, when she saw you nod politely and give him a half hearted cheers with your glasses. She watched the way your head rolled around the bar, eyes scanning until they fell on what you were looking for.

You found her. She watched you watch her and immediately you were walking her way.

For fucks sake.

Sydney tried to pretend she couldn’t see you coming. She tried to focus on the way Richie was angrily gesturing from you to Carmy. She thought she could hear something about “I told you I was buying her drinks!”

It was hard to ignore you when you came up right beside her, giving her a quick wave along with your smile. “You having fun?”

What a question. Sydney had been standing on the wall since you all arrived, nursing just one drink that was now melted ice cubes. Her stupid little paper straw was disintegrating and her hand was wet with the condensation of the glass.

Was she having fun?

“Yeah, course I am.”

She watched the way your eyebrows raised, nodding like you almost believed her. You leaned in just a little bit as you spoke.

“Then act like it.”

Sydney was about to argue when she felt your hand close around the glass she’d been protecting. You slid it out her grasp and spoke up again.

“Can’t be having much fun with an empty glass, I’ll get you another.”

Sydney tried to stop you.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to.”

“You don’t know what I’m drinking-“

You stopped, your head turning over your shoulder and she thought you might’ve even looked a little bit happy that she was following you to the bar.

“Yes I do.”

You placed her glass down and signaled to the bartender. Unsurprisingly, he dropped everything and made his way straight towards you. His eyes almost sparkled as he listened to exactly what you had to say.

“Tom Collins, please.” As you spoke, you tapped two fingers on the rim of Sydney’s glass.

Within an instant he was turning around to prepare the cocktail and Syd took her chance to speak up.

“That’s not what I was drinking, I had a vodka soda.”

You leaned against the bar as you smiled at her. “I know, but it’s what you wished you were drinking.”

Sydney’s face scrunched in confusion. You weren’t exactly wrong, if anything, you were absolutely correct. But how did you know that-

“Family dinner, can’t remember which one, you said it was your favourite cocktail and the first one you learnt to make.”

She didn’t get it, her face shook a little as she struggled with the words. “How could you remember that?”

“How could I forget?”

Thankfully the bartender reappeared with a tall Tom Collins and eyes that were only for you. “Anything else, sweetheart?”

Your face never changed a shade until you turned towards Sydney, looking to her expectantly. “Anything else?”

She felt herself shooting a gaze of disapproval towards the bartender, for reasons she couldn't place. She shook her head with a quick “no thanks.”

“No thanks.” You echoed, picking up your own drink and leaving the bar.

You didn’t even need to turn and check to know that Sydney was following you. She may not have wanted to, but she wasn’t really sure she could go anywhere else.

Finding the least sticky booth in the place, you let her slide in first before you followed her in. She took a quiet sip of the cocktail, enjoying the taste of lemon and pushing down the taste of being remembered.

You ran your finger around the rim of your glass, you didn’t say anything, didn’t look her way. Instead, you watched the rest of the room. You watched everyone milling about and chatting with each other.

Sydney wondered if you wished you were out there. If you wanted Carmy to keep trying to charm your pants off? If you wished Richie would get a little handsy by the pool table? Her eyes watched you as you tilted your head back towards her.

She thinks she saw contentment.

Very suddenly, you happened to turn your head the rest of the way and catch her staring. She felt caught, but she couldn’t find it in herself to look away.

You had been the thorn in her side since she’d met you, grating on her at your every move. The way you couldn’t leave her alone, always needing to know if she’s having a good day, always needing to know if she’d read any good books lately, always needing to work in the space next to her.

She thought about you endlessly. Everything you did, she found herself building it up just to tear it right down in her mind. Every word you said to her, every compliment that you threw her way was a coded message that only you both shared the solution to.

“God, Sydney, your plating is beautiful.”

Why were you scrutinising her work so intently?

“Can you show me how you do that one time? You’re so good at it.”

Why do you need to know? So you can do it better?

“Your hands, I can’t stop staring, they’re so steady.”

Why are you even looking at her hands? So you can be the first to tell when they shake?

“Syd, your bandana is so sweet. Where do you get those?”

That one, the way you’d listened intently with that look of endearment across your face. Only a week later for you to show up with a small parcel, delicately wrapped and in your outstretched hands. She’d peeled back the paper to see an ornate silk scarf, with the tiniest intricate detail around the borders.

You’d been the only person in the kitchen to remember her birthday. When the others had asked why you’d brought her a gift you’d answered like it was obvious. Sydney couldn’t even remember telling you when her birthday was. She sure as hell couldn’t understand why you’d care enough to bring her a gift.

Every waking (and even sleeping) moment of Sydney’s life, she found you there. At the very centre, burrowing your way in and refusing to give up your space. She couldn’t win. When you were around, she could barely breathe.

And when you weren’t there?

Total loss. Sydney knew from the moment she walked through the doors that something was off, the kitchen almost felt cold. It was quieter, it didn’t have that usual buzz that drew her in. She gave it at least an hour before she had to ask.

“Oh, she wasn’t feeling well so she’s taken the day.”

Carmy had said it so flippantly, like he couldn’t care less. He didn’t care that you were alone in your apartment. He didn’t care that you were having to look after yourself, when you really should’ve been resting.

You’d called him, your voice probably a little bit off and he hadn’t dropped everything to make sure you were alright. He hadn’t fired up the burner to make you an easy soup, one that would surely make you feel loved.

Sydney’s head felt like it was swelling that day. She’d managed to work through it but her last hour, she kept an ear out as the stock pot simmered behind her and the bread crusted nicely in the oven.

When you’d returned to work with the Tupperware, she’d silently watched you thank Carmy with a broad smile. His look of confusion irritated Sydney to no end as he stared back blankly.

“Oh, the note said it was from the whole team.”

Carmy was no help but it wasn’t like you’d needed it. Your eyes found Sydney’s for just a moment before she lowered her head back to the chopping board she was stationed at.

“Thank you, it was exactly what I needed.” You’d told her later, when you had the chance.

Sydney was going to play at not knowing what you were talking about, brush it off as someone else’s doing. That was until you placed your hand on her upper arm and squeezed once as you refused to break eye contact.

Instead, Sydney didn’t say anything at all.

So here you were, doing the exact same thing in this dark little corner of this dark little bar. Refusing to break eye contact as you shuffled a little closer to her in the booth.

You were everything that pissed Sydney off.

Finger swirling the rim of the glass again, like you knew she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

You were everything that kept her up at night.

Lips pursing around your straw, you took your last long sip.

You were everything that she wanted and needed.

Pushing both your glasses away, you turned until only your back was visible to the rest of the bar. Caging her in, locking her down. Keeping this between you two.

You were everything.

“Sydney?”

All the air had been sucked out of the room as your left arm rested on the booth behind her and your right hand lay against her knee.

“Mhmm?”

Your thumb ran back and forth across her knee, even through her jeans you could feel the way her skin was burning under your touch.

“Is this okay?”

Sydney felt like she might fucking die. Everything that she’d ever thought about you, every idea, every dream, it was all turning from a murky wash into full screaming colour.

“Well-“

All this time, every furious little fight she’d internalised against you, all those fits of frustration she’d found herself in. It was never actually anger.

“What’s up, Syd?”

Your fingers moved a little higher on her thigh as her heart fought to break out of her chest. It had all come down to this, her chance to stop living in her head and finally acknowledge what it really was.

Complete and utter worship.

Sydney sucked in a breath and shook it out, letting the little confidence she had take over. Her hand moved to rest against your waist, using it to pull you just a little bit closer so she could whisper her question.

“Can I take you home?”

She didn’t miss the way the corners of your lips quirked up at her question. You lent in just a little bit till she could feel your breath just beneath her ear.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Sydney couldn't believe she was crossing the threshold of your apartment, the concept was nearly overwhelming. She took in your furniture, your decorating, and for a small place it was so unequivocally you.

As she moved closer into your home her eyes flickered to your kitchen. She could imagine you there, against the kitchen bench, drinking the soup she'd made you and smiling as it warmed your chest.

She'd thought about what it might've looked like. Did you have a blanket draped around your shoulders? Were you just wearing a t-shirt that fell mid-thigh? When you took that first spoonful, did her creation make you moan?

Thankfully, you snapped her out of her own thoughts by placing her hand in your own and nearly dragging her through the place. She felt like your living room was whipping past her head at a great rate of knots and nothing could prepare her for what came next.

Stepping into your bedroom, all the blood rushed around her head and thumped in her ears. There was so much going on tonight.

Sydney thought back to the bar, the way your hand had squeezed her knee as you slid back out the booth. The way she'd held your hand as you led her away from the night. The disgruntled protests from Richie and Carmy as they watched her steal you away.

None of that mattered. Everything had come down to the fact that you had her at the end of your bed and your hands were sliding over her shoulders to push her jacket off.

You gently placed your hands on her hips to nudge her back until she was sat on the bed, looking up at you like you'd hung the moon. Stepping back, you couldn't miss the way Sydney's hands twitched against her thighs, like she was saying "don't go too far."

Smiling for her, you stayed put, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Her eyes moved from your face, down your chest (staying for a beat), and across to the waistband of your jeans. But you did notice the way they trailed right back to your face and her own smile grew.

Sydney spent every day looking at your face and even with her world at her fingertips, she'd look a little longer.

You were able to draw her attention back to your figure when you began to unbutton your jeans. Her breath caught in her throat and her wide eyes widened just that bit more as you began to shimmy them over your thighs and let them pool at your feet.

She watched you step out of them, kicking the discarded clothes aside and taking a couple of deliberate steps until you were stood between her thighs. Sydney's hands ran up the sides of your legs until they rested on your hips, touching you like you might break.

Moving them to your belly, she coasted them up and over the delicate lace of your bra. Steady hands curved around your breasts, just gently enough to map the lines of your body.

"This set is nice." She remarked, eyes quickly flickering to your matching panties before they moved back up to your eyes.

You giggled quietly as you nodded. "Thank you, I was hoping you'd like them."

Sydney had to take the moment to come to terms with this fact. That you'd woken up that morning and made the decision of which underwear to put on, with her in mind.

As she moved her hands again, you gently picked up one of them and brought them up to your face. Ever so carefully, you pressed the smallest of kisses to each pad of her finger.

Quickly as her heart fluttered, a determined heat settled in the pit of her stomach as your tongue ran up the length of her first and second finger. Sydney's mouth dropped open as she watched you wrap your lips around the tips of them before dragging her hand back to your chest.

"Your hands," You spoke, continuing to move it down until it her grasp rested on the band of your panties. "I've always been obsessed with your hands."

Her mind flashed back to the comment you'd made all those months earlier, how you couldn't stop staring. She thought about maybe how much sooner she could've been doing this if she had gotten out of her own way.

She couldn't dwell on that for long, not with the way you were moving in and perching yourself in her lap. Your thighs sat either side of hers and Sydney let her hands instinctively fall onto your waist.

Nose to nose, you could smell the lemon off the drink you'd brought her. She could feel your breath across her face and it was everything she'd imagined it would be.

You, like this, in her lap. That was quite honestly something she'd thought of many times.

Placing a hand on either side of her neck, you felt the weight of her braids resting atop your fingers. You'd only been trying to do this since you met the girl but you knew Sydney would be a tough one to crack.

But she was an uphill battle that would always be worth it for the view.

The view of her eyes shutting gently as her lips parted and she surged forward to capture your own lips. Her tongue immediately found its spot in your mouth, moving perfectly with yours and tickling the soft skin.

The tiny moan that left your throat and flooded into Sydney's mouth was swallowed right up by her. Hands holding you tight as she pulled your hips into her own, you let your own hands move up to her jaw.

You held onto her face, tilting it up so you could consume her whole. You'd finally got everything you wanted, there was no way you could let her go. Her hands lifted off your hip for a moment and you heard yourself whine at the loss of contact.

Syd snorted a laugh, only disconnecting your lips for a moment as she worked her own shirt off. Suddenly you could move your hands, running them down the smooth fabric of her cropped bra. Your hands cupped at her chest, feeling the swell of her breasts under your fingers.

Soon, you felt her arm slide under your behind as she began to shuffle back up the bed. She lay down beneath you, letting you perch above her as her hands went back to your waist.

Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, sliding the straps down your arms slowly before you tossed it behind you. Sydney did let her eyes fall on your bare breasts, taking in the sight before her.

Moving her hands, she cupped one breast in each hand with her fingers gently tweaking at your nipples. Your eyes began to roll, the tiny shocks of electricity ran through your body as she played with your most sensitive areas.

Your hands lay against her stomach, bringing them to her jeans were you began to unfasten them, slipping your hands underneath them to feel for the waistband of her underwear.

Hearing your name drift off her lips brought you back, your hazy eyes dropping back down to where she lay beneath you.

"Get up here and let me taste you." Sydney ordered in the same voice you'd heard every working day in the kitchen.

Like a switch turning on inside of you, you obediently shuffled up her body until you were hovering over her face. Your heart was pounding behind your ribcage, feeling her hands curve over your ass until they slipped beneath you.

Sydney hooked her fingers into the fabric of your panties, slipping them to the side as her other arm came over your thigh. She pulled you down until you were seated on her face, your cunt laying on the flat of her tongue.

She licked one long line from your entrance to your clit, circling it a couple times before she pursed her lips around it to suck. One of your hands went to your breast, pulling and tweaking at your nipple as the other hand shot out behind you to splay on Sydney's stomach.

You felt your hips roll into her mouth, riding the curve of her tongue as she moved it skilfully against you. Your mouth fell open, the sweet moans flooding past your lips and filling the room.

"Jesus Christ, Syd," You huffed out your words as you kept bucking your hips. "Just like that."

She hummed into you, affirming that she wouldn't change a fucking thing. Not if it meant you kept humping her tongue like that, sounding so pretty when you called out her name.

Her tongue moved around you just like it had in your mouth. It made its way in and commandeered the space. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly how to move to to elicit just what she wanted from you.

Sydney's eyes opened, watching you above her as you rolled your hips with your head tipped back. The way your eyes shut and your mouth fell open as you whimpered. In honesty, she thought you looked a bit like a debauched slut. Just how she wanted you.

There was pride sitting on her chest, sitting just behind you actually. That pride knew that there were a handful of people back at that bar right now that wanted you exactly like this, and Syd was the one that had you. That pride also knew that there was no way they could have you moaning the way you were now.

None of those men would know exactly what you wanted like she could. Not that you were a prize, an object, or anything of the sort.

But Sydney had one first fucking place.

Your hand drifted just a little bit lower, back under her open jeans and beneath the band of her underwear. The curls of her pubic area ran under your fingers until you dipped them into her slit.

"Sydney, you're fucking soaking."

She gave you a moan in response, the feeling reverberating through your body and her hips raised up under your touch. You dipped a finger towards her entrance, collecting slick until you brought it back to circle her clit.

Moving your hand behind you, she lifted her hips to help you get better reach. Your fingers dipped down, tips gently breaching her entrance and making her release another groan into your core.

Your pussy clenched around her tongue, spasms moving up your body as you kept up your movements. Both of Sydney's arms came to hook over your thighs, holding you tight as you fucked her face.

Cries of her name kept rolling off your tongue, the more that she sucked her lips around your clit. You'd no doubt that your neighbours might be impressed by Sydney's skill but all the more wishing she'd go home right now.

You slipped both your middle fingers inside her core, hooking them up against her and rubbing the heel of your hand against her clit. Her hips bucked up again, chasing the feeling as your fingers moved quickly inside of her.

Feeling the white hot tension building to its breaking point inside of you, your teeth clenched around your lower lip as you looked down at her. Her eyes caught on with yours as you rolled your hand against her clit again.

The way her eyes rolled back and the blissed out expression crossed her face was enough for you. Your whole body tensed up as you felt the coil snap, fighting to keep your hand moving in her trousers as your orgasm plummeted through you.

Sydney held onto you, gently pressing kisses to your pussy as she felt your muscles tensing beneath her hands. Her own eyes screwed up as you crooked your fingers up, pressing against the soft, spongey area behind her pubic bone and feeling her tense around your hand.

You shifted your hips back so you could hear the way she whimpered, the sound going down in history for you as it twisted into a moan of your name. Her fingertips dug into your thighs as you brought her to her orgasm.

Her hips stuttered, quietly calling out for you as you let her ride it out on your hand. Gently, you swung your leg off of her and slowly ran your fingers against her slit, feeling the aftershocks slowly dissipating through her.

Shifting to lay beside her on the bed, you brought your fingers up to her mouth, watching her wrap her lips around them and taste herself as you kissed at the wetness you'd left on her chin.

Sydney snuck her left arm beneath you, her right wrapping round your back to pull you in closer as she pressed her lips back against yours. Her tongue pushed it's way through and made total ground as her thigh slotted between your legs.

Rolling it against your centre once, she smiled as you moaned into her mouth. Sydney nodded, humming in delight as she felt your hands working under the band of her bra.

"That's a good girl," She cooed, well and truly finding the rest of her confidence. "Lay back and let me worship you."

#sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu x female reader #sydney adamu smut #the bear smut #the bear x reader #sydney adamu oneshot #the bear one shot #sydney adamu drabble #sydney x reader #sydney x female reader #sydney smut

203 notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 1 year

Text

Can’t Get Away From You

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a mini fight, some shouting, one mention of throwing something at someone, your boyfriend is attached to your hip and follows you like a puppy, power outages, jumpscares, some swearing, stuck in the middle of no where.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: okay I lied, I know I said no fics but this was in my drafts and I had the urge to finish it :) also this was a random idea that @themandaloriansdiaries and I came up with on ft many many nights ago

"Why do you always do this?” You shouted at the man across the room from you.

Your boyfriend stares at you like you had gone insane and sometimes he thought you were, but tonight’s shouting was justified.

The two of you were supposed to go to your sister’s surprise birthday party but big shocker, Erling chose to stay back and kick a ball around for another 2 hours. Their training session was already done, he had no reason to stay back and yet he did. You were waiting for him so you could go together opposed to taking two cars because he kept telling you 10 more minutes and he’d be home, but you ended up being two hours late to your own sister’s party.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” He looks at you and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yes, because that makes up for the fact that I was late to my sister’s party. You’d never do that to your sister, would you? And you know I would never do that to her either. I actually care to show up when I say I will.”

“Y/n, you're overreacting. She didn’t even care that you were late.” He huffed, sitting on the couch.

You cannot believe him; he was late, had the audacity to tell you she didn’t even care and now he can't even stand up so you can shout at him? You were sick of his shit, you needed to leave before you threw something at his head.

The man watches as you grab your purse and phone, storming out of the front door and letting it slam shut behind you. He gets up, following you out the door.

“Where are you going?” He shouts from the porch, you don’t answer but instead get into your car and back out of the driveway.

You had no idea where you were going but you needed to be anywhere but there.

You drove for what felt like hours before you finally stopped in some random parking lot off the side of the road; you had driven out of the city and into the countryside. Hunger was kicking in and you tumbled through your purse for a mint, a piece of gum or literally anything edible. Eventually giving up on the tumbling, you dumped the contents of your purse into the passenger seat and switched on the light.

There’s a set of keys staring at you, a bright blue man city key chain hung on the bunch; the keys to the cabin.

Shortly after you and Erling began dating, the two of you decided you needed a place to go when you wanted to be away from the city. That’s how you ended up with a cabin 3 hours outside of Manchester.

The sky was varying shades of the black and the once viable moon was now blocked by clouds. You figured since you were closer to the cabin then you were home, you might as well spend the night there.

Another hour and you pulled into the muddy driveway, it seemed to have rained at some point during the day. You silently thank your boyfriend in your head for putting in sensor lights, otherwise you might have just slept in the car. The yard was pitch black and the Remingtons, the couple who owned the house across from your place, were away for the summer which meant you were all alone in the middle of nowhere.

The thought freaked you out, but not enough to make you turn back and go home.

You shoved everything back into your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you avoided the puddles of mud on your way to the front door. The look clicked as you turned the key and you sprinted into the cabin, shutting the door behind you.

A hand dragged across the wall, feeling for the light switch and you pressed it, lighting up the place. You also turned on the light in the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom because you were alone.. not because you were scared or anything like that.

The cupboards were pretty empty, anything of substance was eaten the last time you two were there because you didn’t want it to go bad. The only things were a few boxes of mashed potatoes, a can of corn and one can of sliced pineapple.

You couldn't be bothered to cook so you pulled the pineapple can out and was about to crack it open when there was a knock on the front door.

It was safe to say your blood ran cold.

The Remingtons were gone, you were certain of that because they told you to check on the house when you come down if you did, which meant they weren’t there.

No one else lived around here, and you can’t just say no one is home because you switched on every light possible.

Setting the can down, you slowly made your way to the door. You waited to hear if there’s another knock, you peeked out the front window in hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever was outside.

“Babe!” The voice called, startling you. “Open up!”

You groaned, the voice belonging to none other than your boyfriend. You opened the door, unfortunately, and found your giant of a boyfriend standing there with a bag in hand.

“Are you gonna make me stand in the rain?” He asks, the hood over his head blocking the water from his face. “I figured you didn’t eat dinner, so I brought you something to eat.” He stepped into the house; he was so big, you couldn’t really stop him if you wanted too.

“When the rain stops, I want you out.” You turn to him and he smiles, nodding.

He handed the bag over to you, the smell of Chinese food filling your surroundings. You refused to cave, holding your ground and staying mad at him. He shut the door behind him, turning the locks.

“What the fuck man? How’d you know I was here?” You handed the bag over to him, acting like you didn’t want it. Erling shrugged, taking the bag back and going to the kitchen.

He unpacked the boxes, setting them on the counter. “You left your location on.”

You groaned quietly, cursing yourself for leaving it on. Erling ignores your theatrics and puts some food on a plate for you, bringing it over to you and setting it on your lap. He knew you well enough to know if he offered the plate to you, you’d refuse and you needed to eat; part of why you were so snappy with him was because you were hungry.

He can’t help but notice how you un-tense now that he’s around; it brought a smile to his face but he didn’t dare say anything.

Erling sat beside you, eating quietly.

“Can we play a board game?” He asked, setting the plate on the coffee table.

“No.”

Erling hummed, going to dig the monopoly box out from the tv stand drawer. He set up the board, all the little pieces, the cards and the dice and began playing by himself.

You ignored the man, trying not to laugh as he screwed him over on one of the places he wanted. He rolled the dice, counting out the places he needed to move when the lights shut off.

The sound of thunder startled out, causing you to jump slightly.

“Babe, you okay?” He called, getting up. “Ow fuc-” he groans, probably stepping on one of the little pieces.

“I’m fine,” you get up, walking to the kitchen to get your phone off the table. It wasn’t pitch black, you can still make your way around the house so you searched through the kitchen cupboards for some candles, anything that can give you light for the time being.

Erling had gone quiet, you were about to turn around to see where he was but a hand on your shoulder caused you to drop your phone and let out a scream.

“It’s just me,” he laughed and you smacked his arm.

“What the fuck man! God, you are so- ugh.”

You sit at the table, phone back in hand as you called the power company. They finally get to your call after an hour on hold and let you know that the power won’t be turning back on until tomorrow morning.

The phone dropped on the table, your head tipped back as you groaned.

Erling reaches for the candles on the top shelf and lights them, setting them on the table. He sits across from you quietly, the two of you listening to the rain until the sound stops, the last flash of lighting strikes and it goes quiet.

He looks out the window and back at you, the soft orange glow of the candle light reflecting off of your skin. “I should head out,” he says, pulling your focus to him.

“What?”

“The rain.. it stopped. You said leave when it’s done raining.” He reminds you, standing up.

“Oh.. right, yeah. Okay, go ahead.”

Erling kisses your head when he walks past you, telling you to call him if you needed anything but you ignored him, still holding out on being upset even though you weren’t anymore.

The door shuts, you move from your spot at the dining room table to the couch but before you could sit down, the doorbell rings again. “What?” You shouted, walking over to see what he wanted.

He smiles at you when you open the door, pointing to the tree that’s fallen and blocked the driveway. “I’m stuck.”

“Use that viking strength of yours and push it away.” You shut the door again and went back to the couch.

You felt a bit bad, the guilt of him sitting out in the rain sunk in, even more so seeing that you had nothing to distract you. You pulled yourself off the couch and opened the door again, assuming you’d see his car on and him in it but it was off, the driveway was dark and the tree was still there.

“Erling?!” You shouted in the emptiness, “where are you?!”

There’s no answer but what are you supposed to do? Stand out in the rain or maybe go looking for him in the dark?

You shut the door, turning back around to see him sitting at the kitchen table.

“WHAT THE FUCK ERLING?!” You screamed, your heart jumping out of your body momentarily. You let out a breath, hand pressed to your chest. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“The back door was open.”

“Why are you lurking at the back- wait, it was unlocked?” Your brows furrowed, looking towards the back door.

Erling nodded, “yeah, I wasn’t lurking though. I went to check if the generator would turn on.”

“And it did?” You wrapped the blanket from the couch around yourself.

Erling looked up at the light that’s yet to turn on. “I mean, obviously not.”

It was freezing in the cabin, considering that the power had shut off and it was raining, it only made it colder.

“C’mere,” Erling calls for you, his arms opened as he waits for you to come cuddle up next to him. You shook your head, waddling your way to the bedroom. Your boyfriend follows you, watching as you dropped on the bed and pulled the comforter up on top of you.

You can feel the cold running up your spine, the cold air creeping along your skin despite the two blankets and the giant man in the room lifting the blanket wasn’t helping.

“What are you doing?” You grumbled, not turning around.

Erling slipped into bed next to you, pulling you flat against his chest. His body was like a heater, the man wrapping his arms around you and kissing your shoulder before fixing the blanket.

You tried to wiggle away but he held you firmly in place. “You can stay mad but I'm not letting you freeze.”

You let your boyfriend hold you, simply because it's cold and not because you were mad at yourself for being mad at him for no reason. At some point, the two of you must've dozed off.

The lights were what woke you up; bright white lights shining down on you from the ceiling and the fact that the curtains were still open didn't help your eyes that were now adjusting to being open again.

There’s some heavy on you, you can’t even pull yourself up and you’re almost certain you know what it is. You look down to find your giant of a boyfriend on top of you. His arm tossed over your hip, face smooshed against your stomach as he snored quietly.

You smiled, forgetting all about last night as you pulled the hair tie from his hair. He stirred, settling moments later when you passed your hand through his hair. Your fingers rubbed along his scalp, massaging his head.

“Morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your stomach. He kicked the blanket off of him, “it's hot.”

“Power turned back on.”

He shifts, laying beside you and pulling you into his side. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Mhm hm, I know.” Your fingers dragged along his shirt. Erling looked down at you, “are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Sorry,” he says, like it's obvious.

“No,” you joked, smiling at him. Erling knows you were, you don’t really do emotions or say sorry but he knows you are.

He laughs, kissing your forehead.“Shall we go get breakfast?”

You groan, burying your face in his side. “We have to take two cars.” “Oh and move the tree.” He reminds you, making you groan again.

---

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @kylianswag

add yourself to the taglist!

#erling haaland #erling haaland x you #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland x y/n #erling haaland imagine #erling haaland fanfic #erling haaland fluff #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

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little-mouse-gardens · 3 months

Text

Random idea that came my mind awhile back, rambled about this on discord but-*plops this here* I am rattling this around in my brain

Tw : mentions of violence, yandere behaviors, blood

I was Thinking about elderitch forest god Donnie basically making this cottagecore dreamscape for researcher reader so he can keep them by his side.

For reader, a researcher and selected member of a team that would be sent to go out and find some ancient ruins and study the wildlife in an unexplored forest, It was just supposed to be a simple trip to study the wildlife and old ruins in an unexplored part of the forest. Nothing more.

However, readers team didn’t seem to read the signs near the entrance……nor did they feel the same set of eyes burning into their backs like reader began to feel the second they stepped foot over the old stone gates that led into the forest.

The silence in the forest is almost deafening…everything in the forest-hell the forest itself seems to have all eyes on them. Watching their every move or trying to train themselves on every word they whispered to eachother.

Reader even seems to pick up how, for lack of a better term, kind the forest is towards them compared to their friends.

A lot more rare wildlife seems to suddenly approach them out of nowhere. They stand in one spot for a few minutes and when they start to walk they notice how a trail of flowers seems to follow right behind them with every step. Their favorite flowers too.

Maybe, every so often, they may catch a glimpse of Donnie’s smiling face every so often. His smile is seemingly so soft for that brief moment. So soft. Warm. Welcoming, and almost loving if reader manages to get a better look before they blink and He’s gone again.

He’s been lonely for a long time, and the moment he set eyes on reader while they were carefully saving some wild ducklings stuck in the middle of a river or scolding their team for breaking some rare plants, he’s head over heels in love.

Their smile…their laugh, the way they care about his forest and the creatures within it. How respectful they are to his old monuments and they ignored their teams complaints about stopping so they could fix one of his statues they’d bumped into.

In his mind he finally found the one. He wouldn’t be lonely anymore. He’d have someone to share all the love he could give with. He would give reader so much love and attention, he’d do everything he could to make them happy.

…which reminded him that he needed to take care of their little…friends first after he spotted them walking off to find some place to camp.

When nightfall comes…..everything goes down hill so fast. A storm hits. During the panic of being chased by wild animals and avoiding falling trees, reader whips their head around to look for their missing friend and ends up getting knocked out by a tree branch.

Everything is a blur from there. Screams, roaring and snarling of animals, soft whispers against their temple as their ears rang. The feeling of being scooped and cradled to someone’s chest. The scent of blood in the air.

By the time readers up they are in a completely different space. The sound of soft music is playing when their eyes flutter open and the feeling of warm fluffy blankets surround them.

They don’t even remember exactly what happened-all reader knows is that when they woke up they found themselves bundled up in the comfiest cottage they’ve ever seen and to the soft sound of his voice. They turn and spot a particularly peculiar sight. A mutant softs-hell turtle wearing nicely embroidered sweater, shorts and an apron that read ‘genius chef’ on the front on lavender stitching.

Before they can even say a word he’s already glancing over his shoulder at them with a warm smile and nice tray of their favorite comfort foods in hand. This loving look on his face as she sets the tray down on their lap and helps reader sit up, “well, good morning start light. I was worried you’d got caught up in the rain again” he says, nothing but warmth and tenderness in his tone as he fluffs their pillows and lifts the lid off of the delicious smelling soup, “here, my darling, I made you some nice warm vegetable soup to help chase that nasty cold away”

readers mind is so fuzzy…that they don’t even register him calling them darling until they’re halfway through eating the meal he made or the ring that’s been slipped onto their finger.

However everything about him feels so…familiar. Very brief memory’s of them and Donnie going out on picnic dates and working on the garden out in the backyard.

This wave of familiarity seems to wash over them as they relax into the pillows and they give him a shy, “oh….sorry about that, you know how I get when I get focused with gardening”

Donnie just chuckles and sits himself on the edge of the bed next to reader to make sure they like the food he made them. His heart practically jumping for joy as he looks at that sweet smile on their face.

Sure he may have….replaced a few memories of theirs with a few that would keep them with him

But hey….in his mind, what they don’t know won’t hurt them right?

After all, their friends can’t wander his forest forever in search of place they will never be able find.

#Akdjdak I listened to so many creepy cottagecore songs thinking about this #also Donnie is an exceptional cook and Gardner in this au #like his garden is quite literally magical xd #yandere future Donnie #yandere tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt future donnie #future donatello #mouserambles #rise of the tmnt #forest god Donnie #elderitch forest god Donnie #forest god au

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multifandomfanficss · 1 year

Text

Stuck With You

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: When the team sticks their newest member with Vigilante, everyone feels bad for you, but you’re grateful to have him around when you run into something from your past and lose your cool.

Warnings: panic attacks, human experimentation, referenced child abuse

A/N: I found a couple lines of dialogue in my drafts that I never did anything with and I had the writing bug today so I decided to finally make something with it! I’ll crosspost it on my AO3 adriansglasses as well. Hope you enjoy!

“(L/N), you’re with Vigilante.” Harcourt says, at the beginning of the meeting.

“You’re really gonna stick the newest person with that psycho?” John asks.

“You don’t need to be mean to Adrian just because he’s not here.” Leota starts.

“I would say it to his face too. He’d probably just laugh and call me his 4th best friend.” John retorts.

You hadn’t been with the team for long. This was your first mission with them. After a mission gone too out of control, Waller sent you to the middle of nowhere Evergreen, Washington. You thought she’d sent you here because the environment would be less hectic, but the longer you’re there, the more you realize she probably sent you here because everyone on this team is either highly traumatized or in need of more experience. She was trying to put the training wheels back on. From what you’d been told by the team’s top conspiracy theorist, Christopher Smith, this team was originally supposed to be an expendable scapegoat, but they ended up saving the world. You had no idea what to believe at this point.

“What’s up with Vigilante?” You ask, wondering why this was all such a hot topic. You hadn’t known him for long. He seemed a little odd, but overall fine. If you were being honest you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet and funny, often without trying. There was this comforting air about him and you didn’t really know why. He was a good fighter and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was at least a little bit cute.

“He’s a little…” Chris started moving his finger in a circular motion, trying to insinuate that Adrian was crazy.

“He can’t be that bad.” You smile.

Suddenly Adrian comes running into the old video store tripping over one of his shin guards that wasn’t on properly. He sits down and fastens it.

“Sorry I’m late, guys. They kept me late at the restaurant and then when I was trying to put on my suit in the car I accidentally ran a red light and usually I would kill somebody for that, but I mean I think the more important thing is that I didn’t run over the old lady crossing the street! She was totally fine and I know she’s alive because she screamed at me…I’ve never seen an old lady use to many swear words. It was kind of awesome! Anyway what did I miss?”

“You put on your suit while driving?” Leota asks.

“Yup.” He gives a straight face nod. Adrian often had a way about him, as if what he was thinking should be obvious to other people, when in fact, it was not obvious to most people most of the time.

“You amaze me.” Harcourt says, sarcastically.

“Thank you.” Adrian smiles, not catching her sarcasm.

She rolls her eyes, sighing.

———————————————————————

Later on that night you and Adrian found yourselves walking through a series of tunnels.

“John, I think we might be lost.” You spoke into your coms, hoping he can help you from the van.

“I can’t even hear you in my earpiece and I’m right next to you. I think we lost the signal.” Adrian walks in silence for a few seconds before adding, “I’m sorry you got stuck with me.” He looks at the ground, sad.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know they stuck you with me. Nobody ever really chooses to be my partner.” He lightly kicks a rock, pretending not to be bothered.

“They did pair us up, but that doesn’t mean I was disappointed.” You smile.

“Really? Why would you want me?”

“Well first of all, you’re a great fighter. You were also the first person to attempt to be my friend. I’d trust you in the field over anyone.”

“Really?” You can hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.” You let out a soft giggle. “Why are you so surprised that I like you?”

“Usually everyone just tells me to shut up or fuck off.”

“Well I’m not everyone.” You nudge him playfully as you walk.

Soon you come upon a door. It’s a little rusted, but Adrian shoots the lock off and you’re able to break in.

“What is this place?” He asks.

As soon as you walk inside you see the tubes, the files, the devices, the tables, the symbols. You know exactly what this is. This is an old facility for the for the group that made you leave your old job, the mission that ruined your life. You see files on the table, files no doubt full of details on the children they were experimenting on. The group would take orphaned children or children who were abandoned and unwanted, kids who had no one to protect them, and they would experiment on them. They were human trials to try to find new ways of making superheroes. This must have been one of their old abandoned facilities. Despite the lab being inactive, just the sight of it was still enough to send you into a spiral.

Your heart starts beating rapidly as you grow dizzy. You look down at your shaking hands. You’re starting to lose control of your breathing.

“I- I can’t-“ You walk backwards out of the room, starting to hyperventilate.

“Woah. Hey, what’s going on? Are you having a panic attack?” Adrian slowly puts his hands out towards you. He’s a little unsure of what to do.

“I’ve seen this before!” Your entire world is spinning as your start to cry. You can’t stop thinking about the awful things you saw when you snuck into their active facility earlier this year. Those poor children. Part of you was starting to wonder if Waller put you on this team for a reason. You should have known better than to think she was giving you a break. Waller always had some sort of fucked up motive that only worked for herself hidden up her sleeve. “I can’t fucking breathe!” You sob, sucking in air.

“Tender nice touching.” Adrian slowly approached you, patting your shoulder. You needed pressure on your body. You felt like you were slipping away from earth and you needed to be held down.

“Can I have a hug?” You asked, quietly.

“You want a hug?” He asked, his voice just as quiet. He was speaking softly to not startle you further.

“Yeah…”

“I think I can do that.“ He smiles, slowly bringing you into his arms. A little loose at first, he tightened the hug as you melted into him.

“I’m sorry- I- I just…I know what the did here and- and-“ Adrian shushes you as you begin to stutter, your mind moving much faster than your mouth is able to.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me. Don’t focus on anything else, but your breathing okay? Can you feel me breathing?” He rubs your back as you cry into his arms. You nod. “Okay, good. Just…just follow that.” He sighs and then focuses on making his own breathing something you can follow.

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to know what people on the team want because I know Chris doesn’t wanna look weak and Harcourt would kill me if I touched her, so I try to be careful. I just don’t wanna upset you guys more, but if you want me hold you I can keep doing that. Just let me know what you need and I’ll do it.” He says, softly.

“Can you just keep talking?” You ask. The sound of his voice is soothing and grounding.

“You want me to keep talking?” He smiles. “You’re in luck. I’m actually really good at talking. So good, in fact, that people are constantly asking me to shut up. So uh… What can I talk about? Oh! I know. So I have this friend at work. His name is Taylor. Well, he says we’re not friends, but he texts me all time time asking me to help cover his shifts and I would only trust a friend enough to ask them for that, so I think we’re friends. Anyway, so Taylor walked in this morning and…”

The longer Adrian rambles on the better you feel. The pressure of his body on yours and his voice slowly bring you back to earth. Eventually you find yourselves walking back through the tunnels, hand in hand, retracing your steps as he guides you back to the van to regroup. He keeps you distracted with silly stories the entire walk back.

You don’t know what the rest of your team was talking about. Adrian was the best partner you could have had.

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i-luvsang · 1 year

Text

like a dream — kang yeosang

pairing : dryad!yeosang x gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, angst, fantasy, strangers to lovers ➖⟢ cw : mythological inaccuracies, food mentions, borderline controlling parents, scary encounter with dark fae, kissing, pet names ➖⟢ wc : 13.3K ➖⟢ for : the stuck in summer collab held by @a1sh1teruu ➖⟢ special thanks : to @yuyusuyu for beta reading !! <33

bonus : inspo pinterest board & playlist

about dryads : in this fic, dryads retain their core attribute of being nymphs/spirits of trees, their life force being connected to the tree they reside in. they differ from traditional greek mythology here, in that they can be in the image of any gender (not just women), and are considered to be a type of fae.

it all felt like a dream, like magic. the summer haze that fell over the quiet countryside, the trees rustling softly with the gentle wind as twilight fell. the cool water of the lake in your hair, fresh strawberries from the farm just a short walk away, and more than anything at all, him. his smile, the twinkle in his eyes, and, like a miracle, his hand in yours.

admittedly, it didn’t feel that way in the beginning. to be whisked away to your practically estranged grandmother’s home in the middle of nowhere was never what you imagined for the summer between high school and the start of your college journey. you left the day after graduation, still vividly angry with your parents as they shooed you onto the train.

“i swear i’ll be fine on my own! mingi’s parents offered to help if i need anything while you’re gone,” you protested, trying not to let them hand you your already packed bags.

“your grandmother has already prepared to have you. you are getting on that train. we paid for the ticket, you’re all packed, and we are not letting you stay home alone for two and a half months,” they refuted. you had wanted to argue more, maybe bring up a new point, but by then, you had said it all, and despite your recent entry into legal adulthood, your parents still held far too much sway over you.

the train ride is long, dreadfully so. despite the glory of the city fading and gradually being replaced by tumbling hills, trees, and fields, you cannot help but curse it all in your head, too wrapped up in self-pity to love the sights in the way that you normally would.

a woman that you barely recognize from your childhood greets you at the bus stop as the sun begins to dip low in the sky. she’s sweet to you, but not overbearingly so. during the ride from the station to her home in her small, run down car, you do your best not to act coldy to her, trying to remind yourself it’s not her fault that your parents dumped you into her care for two and a half months.

by the time you arrive, the sun has set, and she has grown on you more than you would like to admit for how adamant you’ve been in hating everything about your current situation. she understands that spending the summer with her is not your ideal by any stretch, and she promises she’ll do her best to make you comfortable in any way she can. the way she says it all is kind and genuine, and you’re grateful to see that she’s far more understanding than your parents have been all month leading up to this.

she allows you to settle in for the first few days, showing you around the need-to-know basics of the sweet cottage she lives in. she’s seemingly unbothered by the way you spend most of your time in your room on your phone, bemoaning your unfortunate state to your friends over text or the phone.

but it only takes her five days to have you falling in love with the place around you. the first two are for your sulking, the third for getting you to come out of the house and take a look at her gardens. the fourth day is for a walk to a nearby farm to purchase fresh produce (the strawberries being your favorite), and the fifth is for the sunset.

it’s glorious, and you have no choice but to admit it. after a freshly cooked meal, eaten on her porch as the heat of the day finally begins to subside, she asks you to stay and watch the sunset with her. you agree, even if the sun won’t set for another hour, now aware that you don’t mind spending time with her at all. you talk as you have been for the past few days, the conversation easy and never forced. when a breeze cool enough to feel like an early manifestation of the night rustles the leaves on the trees and the clothes on your body alike, you wonder why your parents ever distanced you from her at all.

she doesn’t let the conversation die out even as the sun truly begins to set, and you like it that way. it feels natural and gentle to have the colors become brilliant in the sky as you learn to accept and love the place you have been plopped into for the summer.

it’s not half as bad as you imagined. though you still feel bouts of jealousy for the adventures your friends are having without you and bitterness aimed at your parents for not allowing you to experience this summer the way you wanted, you try to heed the silent advice from your grandmother to make the best of your situation. she never says that out loud, of course, knowing you’d hate to hear it, but she gives you ways to do so each time she shows you a new beautiful thing.

in the second week, you muster up the courage to ask her over dinner if you’re allowed to go into the forest behind her house by yourself. the day before you went on a short walk into it together, and you felt as though you’d fallen in love with it. she does nothing to hide her smile at the question.

“of course!” she delights. “it’s very safe, it’s quite hard to get lost so long as you don’t stray too far and stay on the paths. almost all of them lead back here or to the main road. i’ll show you tomorrow.”

she sticks to her word, as always, and takes the whole day to show you around the closest areas of the woods. from that day forward, the forest becomes yours. while your grandmother loves it, some stretches are more difficult for her to navigate in her older age, so most days you explore it on your own.

when you’re in the forest, the adventurous side of you comes out. of course, you’re still full of caution, but you are not immune to the allure of a bit of well-calculated risk taking for the sake of tree climbing and wandering off the path just a little bit.

the things that pull you off the path are simple; flowers, mushrooms, long stretches of moss, and the likes. usually it’s something you’d like to capture with the digital camera your grandma has lent you for the summer.

this time, it’s where the furthest navigable path begins to change direction to lead you back home. right where your grandmother told you it’s best not to stray any further. but it’s not far from the path at all, just a small patch of mushrooms that you’ve missed up until now. you make your way over without a second thought, pulling out your camera and snapping a quick picture.

when you stand back up and look out over the small downward slope just a few feet away from you, something else far more special catches your eye. you hesitate this time, knowing that you won’t be able to see the path if you climb your way below it to examine the white flower that you see on the edge of your vision. but you can’t resist the allure, too curious about the single, out of place bloom. so, taking note of your spot at the top of the slope to make your way back to it easily, you carefully make your way down and across the stretch of your vision to confirm your suspicions about the flower. up close, you take in its appearance, and while you’re not an expert, you know enough to tell that it’s a dahlia.

it’s curious, to say the least, to see the white flower fully blossomed when your grandmother had shown you the short dahlia stems in her garden, telling you that you’d be lucky to see them bloom before you left. in response to the phenomenon, you take your time to snap a few photos to show your grandma the early bloom.

once satisfied, you stand from your bent over position and grin when you see a butterfly fluttering deeper into the forest. you take a few steps towards it, trying to get close enough to identify it, when a deep voice interrupts you.

“i wouldn’t recommend going much further from the trail.” the voice is gentle, but it still startles you into whipping around in surprise. you take in the figure standing a few feet away from you. the first thing you notice is that he’s absolutely gorgeous, features soft and beautiful enough to rival the looks of the fairies in the set of paintings hung up in your grandma’s hallway. but that does nothing to aid your surprise. he is, after all, a stranger in the middle of the forest who has somehow approached you in complete silence.

“who–,” you choke the word out, nervous and not even sure what you want to say.

the soft smile on his face shifts into a look of light regret. “sorry. i didn’t mean to startle you. i live close by,” he explains.

“oh.” this doesn’t explain why you couldn’t hear him approach, but you let it slide by chalking it up to the fact that you weren’t paying much attention to anything but the flower and the butterfly. “my grandmother never mentioned you.”

“was she supposed to have mentioned me?” he asks, the hint of a teasing lilt in his voice.

you clear your throat a bit awkwardly. “well, no? i mean, maybe. she told me about everyone else who lives in the area,” you tell him. you’re a bit offended she never mentioned a boy so strikingly handsome.

he hums in acknowledgment. “i don’t go out much,” is all he offers in information. you look him up and down, growing a little suspicious under his gaze with all of these vague answers. he looks perfectly normal, dark brown, almost black hair that falls down to his cheeks in the front and wearing simple clothes. he sports a mossy green t-shirt and dark wash jeans that make him look like he belongs in the forest. he looks confident and comfortable where he stands, as if he knows every inch of this place. maybe he does, granted his claim that he lives close by.

“i mean it, though,” he interrupts your train of thought. “it can be hard to find your way back to the trail if you go any further than this.”

“ah. right,” you nod. “i was just looking at this flower. i thought dahlia’s didn’t bloom until august.”

his reaction to your words is odd when it looks like an expression of nervousness flashes across his face. but it disappears so fast you take the time to wonder if you’d just imagined it.

“usually,” he confirms, “but sometimes they bloom early here.”

“interesting,” you muse, curious again what could be the difference between the forest and your grandmother’s garden. a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and it seems there’s nothing left to say. plus, you’ve got to get home sooner than later to be in time for dinner.

“i guess i’ll get going then.” you point vaguely in the direction you came from.

“right.” there’s silence only interrupted by the sounds of your foot falls as you begin walking away, already thinking of the many things you’ll have to tell your grandma over dinner. the early blooming flower, the somewhat strange boy. he pulls you right out of your thoughts once again with his melodic voice. “i’m yeosang, by the way.”

you turn around to face him, surprised when you’re met with what you could only describe as a bashful expression on his face.

“oh!” you give him your name, not even having realized the two of you never really introduced yourselves to one another. “i’m staying with my grandma for the summer.”

“well,” he echoes your name, and the way it rolls off his tongue in that deep voice of his has your heart jumping in a way you hadn’t expected at all, “see you around.”

“mhmm,” you agree, suddenly eager to meet this stranger again. “see you!”

with that, you turn and make your way back up to the trail, and when you glance back around to seek out his pretty face one more time, he’s nowhere to be seen.

—

when you arrive back at the cottage, it’s just in time for you to help your grandmother set the table for dinner. the food is aromatic and fresh as always, but even the watering in your mouth at the sight of it isn’t enough to distract you fully from your odd encounter in the woods. it’s hard to hold back from telling her all about it the second you got home.

but, you don’t have to wait for long. once you’re both settled at the table with food served and a few bites eaten she asks you how your outing went today.

“actually,” you begin eagerly, “it was quite eventful. and before i say anything else, i promise i stayed within sight of the trail.” she raises an eyebrow at that, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips that tells you to go on. “i saw a dahlia off the path. it was white and in full bloom. i have pictures to show you after dinner! do you think there’s a difference between your garden and the forest?”

“really? that’s fascinating,” she ponders, “i’m not sure if there’s any difference besides maybe the soil, but that’s still unusually early for wild dahlias.”

“that’s what i thought,” you agree. “but grandma! i met some guy while i was looking at it. do you know someone named yeosang who lives around here? he didn’t seem much older than me.”

“ah!” she claps her hands in recognition. “i’m surprised you met him. i’ve never met him myself. i’ve heard he lives in a small cottage in the forest. according to anyone who’s seen him, he's quite a recluse, but still kind.”

“he was a little bit odd. but nice, he seemed to mean well,” you pause a moment before deciding to go on, “but grandma!” you let out a light laugh, “he was… he was really cute.” you’re downplaying the extent of his beauty, but you’re not really one to call a man you just met “gorgeous” in front of your grandma, no matter how fitting the word truly is.

“well, well, well,” she laughs, “have we found you a summer crush?” she teases.

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you refute. “i’m just saying he’s good-looking. maybe he comes across nice but has a rotten personality!”

“i hope that’s not the case!” she lets out another laugh. “maybe you can get him to get out of his shell and get to know the people he lives around. he’s so young, it must be hard for him to live alone.”

“he’s alone?” suddenly a new wave of curiosity and even concern crashes over you.

“well, as far as we all know. i feel so sorry to say it, but he’s so rarely sighted and even less talked to that i think many of us forget about him. i’m sure he’s a kind boy and could use a friend like you.”

you hum absentmindedly at that, already wondering if you’ll run into him again.

but it’s not until the next morning, once again making your way to the deepest point in the forest you’re allowed, that you realize you’re starting to hope to see him again. you find yourself far too curious about him, wanting to know more, looking for his fairy-like features every corner you round.

you reach the spot where you stepped off the trail yesterday, pausing to wonder if he’s more likely to show up here since it’s where you saw him first. it feels a bit silly when you shuffle to the edge and bring your foot over into the vegetation right off the path.

“you don’t have to leave the path for me to show up.”

you can barely process that the tone of his voice is genuine, not teasing like the words themselves might suggest, as you nearly trip over nothing when you’re startled into spinning around too quickly.

his smile is sheepish and apologetic when you lay your eyes on his face. “sorry.” the boy—yeosang, you remind yourself—doesn’t have to explain what for; you recall his apology last time for surprising you like this.

“how are you so quiet?” you wonder aloud, voice curious and void of any accusatory tones, not bothering to keep the question silent this time. you hope it’s not rude to ask, but he just shrugs.

“i’m just used to moving like that, living out here.”

it’s not a very clear or enlightening explanation, but you brush it off regardless. there’s a moment of silence as the two of you just peer upon the other, a hint of curiosity in his eyes that mirrors your own features.

“so…,” you begin, hoping he doesn’t mind if you ask more questions, “you seem to be quite at home here … how long have you been living here?”

“my whole life,” yeosang must sense your surprise at that answer, so he continues speaking to explain, “my parents were, well, recluses, and since they moved out a few years ago, i seem to be following in their footsteps. that’s why most people around here—like your grandmother—don’t know much about me.”

suddenly, you decide you don’t want this to be a short lived conversation. as you ask a new question, you take just a few short steps to sit on a flat rock at the edge of the trail. he follows in suit, taking his place right on the forest floor, leaning his back against a tree directly across from you.

“do you prefer it that way, then?”

he pauses, as if he doesn’t have an answer prepared for that. “i guess,” he shrugs. “i’m used to it.”

“so you don’t get lonely? yknow, living alone now?” you’re surprised by the questions that spill out of your mouth as if without permission. they’re not the kind of thing you normally ask pretty boys you’ve just met. but, more than that, you’re curious about the way the features of his face reflect the internal debate he must be having as he tries to come up with an answer to your question. it’s either as if no one’s ever asked these sorts of questions, nor has he thought about the subject at hand at all. or maybe there’s an answer he could give, but would rather not. you suppose it’s the former option, if he’s really been so secluded from all the people around him for his whole life.

“sometimes,” is the cryptic, too-simple answer yeosang decides to give. but, as seems normal with him, his voice and the look in his eyes are laden with much more. you feel crazy for thinking it, but it feels like he’s saying, “sometimes i’m lonely, but most of the time i’m alright. either way, it’d certainly be nice to have someone else around. you, maybe.” you hope that’s what his eyes are telling you, but you could just be pushing your own feelings onto him because you don’t want to be the only one who feels that way. you love your grandmother’s company, but these days you’ve been missing in-person interaction with friends your age.

“sometimes,” you nod, mumbling the word under your breath. for a moment, you let the air fill with bird calls and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. “so, mr. yeosang,” you speak louder, weaving a bit of playfulness into your voice, “since you’ve been living here your whole life, is there any chance you’d be able to show me around the forest. you know, off the trails.” you watch as a soft, almost hesitant smile makes its way onto his lips.

“sure,” he replies, his answer short as always and turned into something meaningful by the borderline innocent, and certainly sweet look on his face. yeosang’s glad you asked, he just doesn’t say it out loud.

“cool,” you grin. eyes drifting down to examine the plants beside your feet, you wonder what you’re supposed to say next. but that’s no longer a worry when he speaks up first.

“we can start tomorrow,” he proposes. he rushes to follow up, with a kind, “if that’s alright with you, of course.”

your smile grows at his consideration, the light worry in his voice that he hasn’t been perfectly kind to you. in your eyes, he certainly has.

“that’s perfect,” you assure him, “i’ve got practically nothing to do all summer long, anyways.”

“great.” he sends you a smile that catches you completely off guard. or rather, it’s your own reaction that surprises you. the way the curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes sends your heart racing. on second thought, maybe hanging out with the prettiest person you’ve ever laid eyes upon isn’t the best idea you’ve had. of course, that thought is completely wiped from your mind when his melodic voice meets your eager ears again. “you know the giant rock at the fork between painter’s path and luna moth trail?” you nod quickly at his question. “we can meet there, then.”

“sounds good!” you chirp, then glance up to the sky between the treetops to check if the afternoon sun has begun dipping low enough to force you back on the trail homewards. sighing, because you’re just a little bit disappointed your time with him can’t last any longer today, you tell him it’s about time for you to head back and bid him goodbye.

“see you tomorrow,” he calls softly after you. his words send a rush of excitement in the form of flitting butterflies to your stomach, so you rush off, wondering what’s gotten into you. butterflies? already?

—

the next morning, you wake with yeosang already on your mind. the first thing that you realize is that you never set an actual time to meet with him. it was just “tomorrow.” you let that slip up worry you for a measly thirty seconds as you pull the cream colored sheets away from your body. but the way that the morning sunlight sneaks into your room through the white curtains and illuminates the framed artworks above your dresser steals that prick of worry away, replacing it with something akin to whimsy. somehow, you’re sure he’ll know when to meet you. and if not, by some chance, you wouldn’t mind waiting for him one bit.

after a quick breakfast and a hasty goodbye to your grandma, you grab your bag, already packed with your usual supplies of water, lunch, and your camera, and rush out the back door. by now, most paths are familiar, and you easily make your way to your designated meeting spot. that boulder is clear in your memory, as well as the pictures of it captured by your camera. you adore the way that the moss grows on the intimidatingly large stone and the view of the forest floor from the top when you managed to climb it last week.

it’s a delight to find him already there, perched up high at the exact spot you ate your lunch last thursday. it takes up all of your willpower to keep from pulling out your camera and capturing the image of his practically divine figure, soaking up both the sunlight that filters in through the leaves and the dappled shade that the trees provide. once again, you’re struck with just how much he appears to belong in this forest, as if you couldn’t imagine him anywhere else but here.

he’s already looking in your direction when he comes into your line of sight, and you’re reminded of how you don’t have his talent of traveling through the brush in complete silence. the subtle wave and soft smile that he gives you sends a rush through your body. you return the wave, now more eager than ever to explore the forest with him as your guide. he tells you to wait at the path for him, disappearing for only a moment before reemerging from the side of the boulder in mere seconds. you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to look at him without his beauty throwing you off momentarily like a breeze that rustles your clothing out of place just enough that you have to stop a second to collect yourself.

“you ready?” he asks, the tone of his voice not helping you to respond normally. you clear your throat unnecessarily before answering.

“mhmm!” you nod your head enthusiastically. “where to?”

the light smile on his face quirks up so that it’s almost mischievous. “a surprise?” he says the words like a question, both to sound extra teasing but to also leave you room to protest if you really want.

your grin grows. “if you insist.”

he smiles wider too. you get the inclination that his smile will be the death of you someday.

it surprises you just how easy it is to talk with yeosang considering how flustered his presence makes you sometimes. but you don’t complain at all; instead, you soak it all up the same way you do with the new scenery that comes when you part from the path. he’s a wonderful listener, clearly content to hear anything and everything about you with the way he asks actually interesting questions and retains every detail that you provide him. of course, you hate to be the only one talking, and you hate not to hear more of his voice, so you’re sure to engage him to talk about himself. he’s intelligent with his words, reserved with how much he says, but speaking volumes in just a sentence or two. the simple things are nice too. you get to learn the way he pronounces words like lychee, syrup, and caramel and he gets to learn how much you love fresh fruits for dessert and that you hate frosting unless it’s homemade and not too sweet.

you’re about to ask him if he likes rainy weather when he tells you to wait for just a moment. you nod, and he pulls himself up to the top of the shallow ravine you’ve been walking through. it’s taller than the both of you, and the grace in which he climbs to the top is impressive. he crouches at the edge and extends his hand out to you. you flush when you realize you’re supposed to hold his hand. trying not to think too much about it, you reach up to place your hand in his. it’s alright for a split second, but when his deep voice meets your ears as you keep your eyes level with the vegetation in front of you, your heart begins to hammer in your chest. you almost don’t catch what he says.

“if you put your left foot on that rock by your knee, i can pull you the rest of the way up,” he advises. you hope he doesn’t notice the slight buffer in between his words and when you actually follow his instruction. but he’s right, it’s easier that way and you’re standing at the edge of the small cliff seconds later, just far too close to him for your heart to come back to its normal resting rate.

“thanks,” you breathe out, voice quieter than you expected it to be. but he hears you easily with your body pressed against his and only the rustle of leaves sounding through the forest.

“of course.” you feel a bit better knowing that his voice has come out almost as hushed as yours, as if there’s something special about being this close to one another. as if this is something you both would rather not brush off as nothing. instead, being close to him is something, it means something. what it means, you’re not sure, but you do know that despite the nervous fluttering of your heart, being near him is safe and filled with peace.

you try not to hate it when he pulls away because you feel strange that you’re so attracted to him barely three days into having met him. yet, you question the harm of it. who’s to say you can’t have a summer love under the leaves, with a quiet, gorgeous boy who seems to have taken a liking to you too? certainly not you.

when you turn to face the direction he’s looking in, a different type of excitement takes over your mind. there’s still a bit of a ways left, but there’s no doubt that what you see in the distance is the sight of sunlight catching on water.

you spin your head to face him again. “there’s a lake?”

he lets out a light laugh at the clear excitement in your voice. “i think i’d classify it as a pond, but yes. we’re close to my favorite part on the shore.”

“perfect,” you grin. you let him continue to lead the way, reminding yourself not to get ahead of yourself in the case of unexpected landmarks like the kind he’s been steering you clear of the whole way here. he seems to know every little thing about the forest, easily guiding you away from roots, rocks, and the likes that you would probably trip over were you alone. that’s just a small reason you’re so glad to be with him.

when the trees break and you’re met with a small patch of land between the trees and water, you pull in a gasp of awe. the following breath comes out as a contented sigh. he’s right; the body of water isn’t nearly big enough to be classified as a lake. but that doesn’t take away any of its glory. the lily pads are blooming and the trees lining the edge are beautiful in contrast to the water. and you could fall in love with sunlight reflecting off of any water every time you see it, and this time is no exception. it’s just that maybe you’ve fallen in love a bit more than you normally do, knowing that this place is tucked away, almost a secret. knowing that you’re discovering this place with him, and knowing that there’s more. suddenly you’re curious.

“have you ever shown this place to anyone else?”

the question seems to catch him off guard, and you instantly wish you’d bitten your tongue before letting it slip from your mouth. you wish you’d just told him that it’s beautiful, that you love it, that you’re grateful he’s shown it to you regardless if you’re the only one or not. but then there’s a light smile on his face.

“no,” he answers, “there are people that know about it, of course, but i’ve never shown it to someone.”

you nod, thankful he’s not upset that you asked, but instead seemingly glad to answer instead. as if he’d like you to know you’re the only one, but he’s too shy to bring it up himself. as if he’s glad that you’re asking because it means that you want to be the only one.

“well, thank you for showing me. i love it.” you let that hang in the air and hold back the questions that you still have because you want him to know that you mean it.

“i’m glad you love it,” he says, voice sincere as always. and the silence isn’t the kind that you hate, it’s the kind where you both know that the quiet is right because you’re both basking in the beauty of what’s before you, you’re basking in the fact that it feels like the person beside you is willing to understand you and if feels like they’ll continue to do so. you’re basking in the silence because all of it feels right, feels like a fairytale, like a dream. because how the hell do you meet someone twice for so short of a time and then talk for hours when you see them next? how could silence already be comfortable? turns out it just is.

for you, it turns out the quiet boy is always kind, is always willing to listen, and always willing to answer. it turns out that he never tires of showing you new places like the bubbling creek and he doesn’t mind that you love catching frogs and salamanders just to hold them for a moment. he must think it’s cute that you find them cute every single time. he tells you about the types of moss and lichen that cover the boulder over twice the size of the one you meet at nearly every morning. he obliges when you want to go back to the pond to wade in the water and look for tadpoles in the shallows. he knows that you’ll love that one clearing in the middle of the deep trees that always filters in the rays of the sun just right so that it always appears to be straight out of a fantasy movie. and he loves to take you to the willow tree.

the moment you told him it was your favorite spot, yeosang thought he’d kiss you right then and there. but he knew it was too soon. before then, you’d only held hands, first as you ran through the forest to his small, bare cabin to escape the rain, then shyly a few times more just because it felt nice.

you’re holding hands now as you near the willow for the millionth time in the last month since you’d met. it’s a normal occasion by now, as you claim to only be grabbing his hand because it can get cold in the forest, but the two of you know it’s because neither of you can get enough of it. you’re just too shy to admit anything like that.

it doesn’t take long for you to settle at the trunk of the tree; the routine of sitting side by side in the grass with lunch splayed out in front of you is easy and natural now. once the food’s all gone, you’ll sit and talk for hours until you have no choice but to head home. today is no different, the same motions are there, along with the butterflies in your stomach that always come from sitting so close to him, his voice practically right in your ear as he goes on about something that you love to hear. but today he seems quiet, pensive. it’s almost as if you can feel the way that thoughts swirl around in his mind, like you can see it in his eyes as he silently eats the sandwich in his hand. he’s a bit far away, in a way that’s not quite bad, but not good either. you wish he’d tell you what’s on his mind.

you let it sit for a while, understanding of the want to just be. to let oneself be quiet without the pressure to hold a conversation. but you also want to help. you don’t want him to feel like he has to hold in whatever he’s thinking of if he doesn’t want to.

“what’s up?” you ask, voice light and airy as if to show him that you’re giving him space to do as he wishes.

“do you believe in magic?” the question slips out of his mouth as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. yeosang’s gaze avoids yours, staring straight forward as you peer at him. you take in his features the same you that you always love to. the lines of his profile perfectly catch the light of the sun that streams through the delicate leaves of the willow. your gaze drifts from his ridiculously dainty eyelashes to the unique curve of his nose and finally to the lips you haven’t been able to get out of your mind since the time you named this place as your favorite.

when you said that two weeks ago, you’d been sitting like you were now, shoulders and thighs brushing together. he didn’t say a word, but he turned his head to meet your eyes and suddenly he was leaning close, closer than he’d ever been. but a far away look flashed through his eyes, one that mirrored his gaze now, and he let his lips curve into a sad smile that you still don’t understand. then he moved away, and said, “i’m glad,” and you knew he meant it.

suddenly, you realize you’ve let his question hang in the air for too long, lost like always in thoughts of him. you pause a moment longer, wanting to answer truthfully and thoughtfully.

“i want to believe in magic,” you admit. “though i guess it could depend on how you define magic. like actual fairies and spells and storybook tales that aren’t real—or that we don’t know if they’re real—or things like this. to me, this is magic. the sun lighting up the leaves and the side of your face, and the beauty of this tree. to me, magic can be the way someone makes you feel. but if we’re talking about the other kind … i want to believe in it. i wish it were real but it’s kind of hard to believe in it when i’ve never seen that kind of magic. i’m a hopeless romantic in some ways. i’ll still imagine that fairytales could be real, that if i hope hard enough i’d see a fairy living in a toadstool fairyhouse. but i still like proof, so i settle with that hope.” once you let out your long-winded answer, you realize you’d probably never say that to anyone else. that happens a lot when he asks you questions.

something in yeosang’s gaze changes and he’s not so far away anymore. if anything, there’s that last word you spoke reflected in his expression. hope. like that’s the perfect answer for you to have given him.

“i like that way of thinking,” he says, voice soft and honest. you want to ask him if he believes in magic, but for once the question stays stuck in the back of your throat. it doesn’t feel like he’s ready to give his answer and you’re a bit bewildered as to why, but you let him be. you always let him be when that far away look interrupts his smile.

exhaling lightly, you let your head tilt to the side until it’s fallen onto yeosang’s broad shoulder.

“it’s nice to hope,” you say, wondering if his heart could be beating as fast as yours is.

“it is.” then his head is resting on yours and you wish that summer would never end. you don’t know it, but he wishes the same in a far more desperate and bittersweet way.

—

today, you’re meeting him at the willow rather than the normal spot at the boulder. you readily agreed when he asked if that would be alright with you, confident in finding the way on your own. the confidence was warranted, as you’ve walked there many times and the journey has been smooth from the beginning. you know you’re almost there when you pass the bend in the creek with the young maple tree hanging its branches over the water. it’s only a few steps later that something catches your eye.

instantly you’re reminded of the first time that you met yeosang, a fully bloomed dahlia coming into view. this time it’s dark in color, the deep red-ish undertones of the petals visible even from your vantage point. without a second thought, you pull out your camera and clamber your way over to the regal flower, surprised you’ve never noticed it before. now that august is right around the corner, it’s far less odd to see a dahlia bloom, but now that they remind you of yeosang you can’t help but want to capture the pretty sight in your camera.

as you focus your gaze into the viewing piece of the camera, you frown at the dark lighting that you can tell will be reflected into the image. there was plenty of sunlight filtering through the leaves just moments ago. you pull the camera away from your face to reevaluate your surroundings, confused.

without warning, everything begins to grow dark, like the once artful shadows of the forest are multiplying and expanding right in front of your eyes. it’s like when a storm approaches and the sun is swallowed up by thick clouds, but it’s not a darkening of the sky that swallows you up, but rather the shadows themselves.

fear hits you like a truck, and your heart hammers in your chest because you know instinctively that none of this is right. i need to get to the willow, is all you can think, and yet the moment you resolve to run, it’s as if you can’t tear your eyes away from the flower in front you.

you wonder if this is what it feels like to be under a spell, a real one, a dark one. nothing like the spell of falling in love, nothing like the feeling of being stunned into silence from one glance at those glorious eyes of his.

“you’re a lovely little creature, aren’t you?” a horrified chill runs up your spine when the dark, thin voice permeates through the air just like the unnatural shadows. you dare not look up to where the voice came from, though you’re not even sure you could look away from the dahlia. sharp, shallow breaths escape your mouth as you panic. it feels like you’ve been thrown straight into a nightmare. you shut your eyes tight and beg in your head to please wake up, please wake up, i have to wake up.

your eyes almost snap open when the voice speaks again, sinister and demanding. “don’t be so afraid. look at me.” but you realize that with your eyes closed, you’re no longer being pulled towards the flower by your transfixed gaze.

so you turn and run.

opening your eyes doesn’t do much to help you, the darkness that’s wrapped around the trees is not too different from the dead of night. you trip over roots and get whacked in the face by low hanging branches, stumbling along in the direction you can only pray is back to the safety of the willow. you’re not even sure why you’re so convinced that the tree can save you, but you have to run somewhere.

it feels like a miracle when you see the shadows begin to thin in the near distance. the promise of daylight prompts you to push yourself to run faster. and you think it’s working because you haven’t heard anything but your own rapid footfalls and heavy breathing. the light is getting closer.

but something as firm as metal shackles latches itself around your upper arm and you can’t control the scream that rips from your throat as you’re yanked into darkness again. this time the darkness is solid, wrapped around you like spindly, immovable arms. then the darkness speaks and you realize you really are being held by something.

“you’ve wandered too far for me to just let you go like that. humans.” the last word is spit out like something disgusting and covetable all at once. then you realize the last word makes it sound like whatever freakishly tall and strong thing holding you captive is not human. that would make sense if there were other things in this world that could talk but aren’t human. but that’s not real and this has to be a horrifyingly realistic nightmare.

you struggle in the grip he has you in, desperate to get away. “let me go!” you scream. he just clicks his tongue.

but then he does. his arms release you and you almost crumple to the ground with how weak your knees are with fear. you try to run, but suddenly he has his hand on your chin, forcing you to look up at him and you can no longer move of your own free will.

his face is striking, beautiful even. his black eyes are so empty it feels like they’re burning holes straight through your soul. he looks human. almost. but he's at least 7 feet tall and his face is framed with shadows rather than locks of hair. his robes seem to be shifting and swirling like black smoke. he himself seems to be shadow. and those eyes are certainly not human. just like he’s the black dahlia, you can’t look away.

“that little dryad thought he'd scored himself a sweet prize, didn’t he?” he tilts his head as he asks the rhetorical question, one that makes absolutely no sense to you. “a shame you wandered too far from his tree. i can’t believe he let you walk alone so close to the border. getting you to cross it was far too easy,” he croons. the first tree that comes to your mind is the willow and you have to shut out the wild thought that this monster is talking about yeosang. yeosang who loves the willow tree, yeosang who asked you to meet him there, leaving you to walk the whole way on your own. yeosang who you first met at a white dahlia bloom.

thoughts of him crowd your mind, pushing out the darkness bit by bit. so you concentrate on everything here that’s felt opposite to this nightmare; everything dreamlike. in your mind there are rainstorms watched from the safety of your grandmother’s porch, frogs from the creek in your hand, and sunlight dappling the forest floor. there’s the shining pond, fresh strawberries, and priceless sunsets. there’s his hand in yours, his breath on your cheek, and the branches of the willow tree swaying in the breeze. and then there’s nothing tying you to the darkness, so in desperation, you bolt, praying that this time you’ll be fast enough.

the light approaches faster and there are tears on your cheeks. letting out a cry, you see a figure running towards you, backlit from the sunlight that was always supposed to be there, and you know it signals safety before you can see his face.

yeosang gets closer and closer, and suddenly his hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s tugging you along behind him, towards the light. you hear nothing behind you, but you know the shadowy figure is there, his dark smoke nipping at your feet, trying and succeeding in catching up.

but yeosang runs far faster than you thought he could and at any other time you’d question how you’re able to keep up at all. now you can see it. the blurry border where you can somehow see the light and dark balance perfectly. and you know you need to get past it where the light overpowers dark, where it is natural and shadows only exist because there is sun.

you let out a cry of surprise when you feel a sting at your lower calves and look down to see the smoky shadows climb higher, biting at the back of your legs and climbing up to your knees and lower thighs as your captor comes closer to keeping you in his cold grasp.

“keep going,” yeosang urges, and you resist the urge to let out a loud sob at the sound of his voice. you want to scream at him and ask what the hell is going on. instead, you follow his lead and push yourself even harder than you thought possible, and suddenly you’re sprawling forward, straight into the ground as your hand slips out of yeosang’s grip.

the fear clenching your heart squeezes hard, but nothing else snatches you up, no shadowy, steel-like hands, no cold voice in your ear. just him at your side in milliseconds, voice asking if you’re okay and hands pulling you up from the ground. you don’t say a word as he hoists you to your feet, telling you that you’re safe for now, but should get farther from the border as fast as possible. you just let him hold you close as he guides your tired and wobbly legs away until you’re under the leaves of the most familiar tree in the whole forest. only then do you let your knees buckle and a fresh wave of tears escape from your eyes. he keeps you steady so you don’t fall, gently lowering you to the ground and into his arms.

he holds you like that for god knows how long, rubbing your back in an attempt to sooth your shaking, and whispering a mix of broken apologies and comforting words to calm your crying.

“i’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. i’m sorry,” he calls you by a mix of sweet things and your name said like something holy. “i never meant for anything like this to happen, i’m sorry. please, please tell me you’re alright,” he begs. you hate how sad and guilty he sounds, but you can’t say a word, completely unable to process anything that’s happened. you just lay in his hold like it’ll keep any threat in the world away from you.

eventually you’re still and quiet in his arms save for your shaky breathing. his shirt is wet under your head. he’s mostly quiet now, still whispering out apologies here and there. it takes a moment for you to speak.

“is this a dream?” you whisper, tilting your head up to look at his very real, heartbroken face.

“i’m sorry,” he answers, voice guilt-ridden. that means no. your head drops back down to his shoulder and you sigh.

“i’m… i’m scared to ask, yeosang,” you begin, voice soft and still a little shaky, “i’m scared to ask what the hell that was and why the hell you seem to know exactly what’s going on.” your tone isn’t accusing, just tired and confused. once you start talking, it’s hard for you to stop, even when the words make little sense. “that– that can’t have been real, i swear. how the hell could that be real? he was– there’s no way that he was… human. he didn’t look, well, possible. and it was like i couldn’t move sometimes and god! i must have been hallucinating.” your voice drops off into silence with a thud. he doesn’t say a word. there’s a stretch of silence, and it feels like the only moving thing is his hand on your back, still rubbing back and forth in comfort. your voice is even smaller than before when you speak again. “and he… he said things and i think he was talking about you. why was he talking about you? why… why aren’t you telling me none of this is real?”

the pain in his voice is enough to tell you without looking that his lips are drawn tight in a frown and his eyebrows are furrowed with something almost as intense as sorrow.

“i’m sorry,” when he speaks his voice is small too. “i wish i could tell you it wasn’t real. and i’m sorry because i never meant for anything like this to happen, i never meant for you to find out like this, and i never should have let you walk out here alone. i wanted to tell you that the magic you let yourself hope for is real, it almost slipped out of my mouth a million times… but i didn’t know how. i didn’t know if there was a right time, or if i’d scare you away, and that’s the last thing i could ever want. i didn’t want anything to change. so i’m sorry i kept you in the dark like this and i’m sorry this happened. please, please, please tell me how i can fix it.” the words tumble out of his mouth like a waterfall, unfiltered and uncontrolled and so clearly true. it’s so different from the way he normally talks. he’s always truthful, but he picks and chooses his words both precisely and scarcely. here, it’s clear that he’s let it all come falling out, too guilty and upset for your sake to filter through the mess of his mind right now.

“and that’s why you asked me if i believed in magic a few days ago?” as you say this, you try to understand, finally pushing yourself up. you stay in his hold, still tucked into his wide frame, but now more level with him to better engage in a real conversation. it hurts a little to see the pain on his face, but it’s hard not to look at him either way.

he nods at your question, not even caring for now that you haven’t directly addressed his previous plea. “and so i decided to tell you. for a while i wondered if it would be better if you never knew at all. but i didn’t want to hide things from you and your answer was… it was… i was going to tell you today. i was going to surprise you with something small, right here.” his hand reluctantly leaves you to dig into his pocket. when he opens his fist to show you, it’s a tiny set of clothes, like the kind you’d find for small dolls. “these are my friend’s. he’s a pixie.” your silence makes him realize you must still be completely overwhelmed. quickly, he shoves the clothes back away and looks at you apologetically. “i’m sorry. this is too much, isn’t it?”

“i– so,” you struggle to find your words, “you’re telling me that magic is real? like the storybook kind? and you’re friends with pixies and there are horrifying shadow-men that try to capture you if you stray too far in the forest?” he cringes at that, and you want to apologize because you didn’t mean it like that. it’s just that you can’t seem to wrap your mind around this at all.

“well… yes.”

“oh.” you blink, once, twice, three times over. you try to let it sink in and he doesn’t say a word because he’s afraid of scaring you further. there’s silence for a long moment. “and… you. you’re magic too?”

he lets out a sharp exhale. “yes. i’m a dryad, a type of fae. a light fae. the shadowy man is a dark fae.”

you surprise yourself when you start to feel a hesitant smile try to find a way to your face. “and this is your tree?” you look up at the grand branches of the rustling willow.

he can’t hide the small smile of pride when he answers. “this is my tree.”

“it’s beautiful,” you marvel, as if you haven’t said so a million times before. but this time, the meaning is new, and once again, yeosang is dying to kiss you.

“thank you,” he breathes out, hopeful you’ll be alright, and hopeful that you won’t shut him out for hiding a whole entire world from you. there’s another pause for silence as you take in the tree with a new set of eyes, and he knows he’s in love with you when he sees the sparkle in your eyes. he feels like he’s ruined any chance with you after putting you in so much danger and throwing you into a world of the unknown and utter confusion. and here you are, staring at his tree with a wonder so pure in your eyes, as if he’s shown you the most beautiful thing in the world.

to you, that’s what it feels like, though. your brain may be running a million miles an hour and your heart may still be beating in fear, but magic is real. for you magic is real in so many ways, because to you, his dreamlike smile is a magic of it’s own, and now he’s really, actually magic. he is one with nature, in a way you can only begin to understand now, and even more deeply, he is one with the most majestic tree you have ever laid your eyes upon. everything about him is beautiful in ways you didn’t even know, but that you feel blessed to have been shown now.

and you struggle to even think that he’s to blame for not telling you yet. it’s true, you’d much rather not have found out the way you did, but how could anyone dismiss his hesitance? no one, when you belong to a species so destructive, especially to mother nature. not when it was because he was afraid of scaring you away. not when he didn’t know until just days ago if you would even be willing to believe in anything near fantastical. you’re honored to know he did intend on telling you, because you believe him wholeheartedly in everything he’s told you.

but a sudden series of doubts cross your mind. what if he’s been playing me this entire time? what if he’s not who he claims to be? what if he’s using magic to make me trust him… to love him, even?

but he interrupts those thoughts with his soft, careful voice. “you broke his spells, you know? those moments when you couldn’t move, you were under the influence of his magic. his kind is far stronger than mine. my magic is connected only to nature. i’d have a completely hellish time trying to break that kind of spell with my magic,” he admits before continuing, “and without any magic? well, it’s nearly impossible. but you did it. your mind is incredibly strong and full of light. of course, i’ve known that for a long time now, but you’ve just proven it to one of the strongest faeries in this forest. you’re practically magical too,” he muses, and every doubt is wiped from your mind.

“i thought of you,” you admit quietly, “and other things that i love.” the confession is subtle, but yeosang doesn’t miss it.

his voice is begging and oh so gentle when he asks. “can i kiss you?”

“please,” you breathe out. then he’s tilting his head closer and closer to yours, just like before, but this time he doesn’t get the faraway look, and this time his lips finally meet yours.

—

you thought that the faraway look would be gone forever once you found out about the world of magic. but it’s come back now that your days with him dwindle. it’s not that you’ve even addressed the end of the summer approaching, and therefore, your time with him too. but it isn’t hard to guess that he’s thinking about the fact that you’re leaving, and he’s not. what you can’t understand is the extra layer of sadness and regret. you can’t figure out what it means because somehow you know it’s not just the fact that you’ll be apart—though that part is plenty distressing to you.

you already knew that the end of the summer would bring a difficult goodbye, but now that he tucks his head into your neck when he’s shy and makes white dahlias bloom for you in seconds, you’re not sure how the hell you’ll be able to part with him. now that you see the way he glows when he channels magic from his tree and shows you fairy houses built into toadstools that are no longer lived in, you can’t fathom that you’ll have to go back to a life where he and his magic are practically a entire world away. now that he kisses your knuckles when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep under the willow with your head on his shoulder, you know that you’ll miss him in a way you’ve never missed anyone before. and now that there’s no doubt in your mind that you love him, you wish he’d tell you the things he keeps hidden behind that unreadable look on his face.

you interrupt the sound of the breeze dancing through the leaves. “it’ll be alright,” you say, voice almost hushed since you’re still a bit afraid to talk about it. but the way you catch him looking at you sometimes has you desperate to comfort him.

“i know.” but his smile is anything but convincing.

“i mean it,” your voice comes out strong this time. “i’ll come back during all my school breaks and i’ll get you a phone so that we can talk while we’re apart. we’ll be alright, we’ll make it work.” you believe in your own words wholeheartedly, but you’re begging for him to do the same.

your voice comes out of his mouth almost at a whisper. “i– that’s what i want. i wish you’d never have go at all, but–”

“but what? there doesn’t have to be a ‘but,’ yeosang,” you argue without even hearing what he has to say. he sighs in defeat.

“you shouldn’t limit yourself.”

“sangie,” you plead, “don’t say that. i’d be limiting myself if i didn’t let myself have you. i’m coming back to you. just because i’m going to meet new people and have new experiences doesn’t mean i’m going to forget about you. yeosang, you’re unforgettable.”

“i–,” suddenly he looks away, avoiding your earnest gaze. the moment of silence that follows stretches out like an eternity, and you begin to fear if he really means it when he wishes you’d never go. “i’ll be waiting for you.” he says it like it’s a wish placed on a shooting star that you can’t see, like there’s still something being left unsaid. but the look in his eyes tells you that he means it, so you lace your fingers through his and bring his hand up to press a kiss to it like a promise.

you curse the early setting sun of the winter. by the time your parent’s car pulls into your grandmother’s driveway, the sky is as dark as it’ll get. you know that, realistically, you wouldn’t have been able to see him today, regardless of the color of the sky. but you can’t hold back just a bit of disappointment.

you let the feeling fall away, though, when your grandma welcomes you back to her home for winter break with open arms and a hug that’s probably warmer than the fire raging in her hearth. even now, you’re still struggling to understand why your parents never let the two of you get close until this past summer.

settling back into your summer room is easy and satisfying, pine cones and fairy clothes you couldn’t take back, gifted by him, still decorating the dresser. of course, this time it’s colder than you’re used to, but the extra blankets and knowledge that yeosang and his willow are right there lull you to sleep quickly.

when the morning sun chases you awake, you’re up with a grin, more glad than ever to get ready for the day and disappear into the forest. you can’t escape breakfast, but you can’t complain about it either, more than happy to taste your grandmother’s food and speak with her more again. and of course, your parents implore you to stick around to spend some time with family. you slip out the back door within minutes of that suggestion.

the snow coated trees are like a foreign home, undeniably familiar, yet different in a way you’ve never seen before. it excites you to realize that you’ll be able to learn about this version of the forest. the branches hang heavier, adorned with the snow that glitters in the cold winter sun. it seems that no matter what season, the forest sparkles in the light of the sun—and magic—to make it feel more like a dream than anything else.

you’re impressed by yourself when you’re able to still find the way to your summer meeting place, the boulder newly majestic with it’s blanket of whiteness. the whole journey is almost as wondrous as discovering magic; experiencing the forest in its snowy glory distracts you for a moment from the fact that the boulder stands tall … and alone. you’ve never seen the boulder this way. empty. there’s not a single time where he wasn’t there, waiting for you.

you try not to let your heart sink heavily into the pit in your stomach, but you can’t shake the way that it feels all wrong. it’s easy to tell yourself that there’s no way he would know you were here to look for. but you then remember what he told you, sitting up on that rock together, soaking up what sun you could. that he’s always there, waiting for you because he can feel it. he can feel you when you enter the forest. so why isn’t he here now? he promised he’d be waiting for you.

maybe it’s the snow, you consider. somehow even that feels like a silly excuse. but you don’t turn around, back in the direction of home. you search the paths that you can see in the midst of the snow, softly calling his name in hopes that it will be carried to him somehow. through the wind, the leaves, or the word of a fairy that you can’t see. you trudge along until you grow too cold and the hot chocolate in your thermos runs out.

—

two more days of searching through the snow, and your parents are beginning to question your daily outings into the forest that only result in a few pictures on your digital camera and a moody quiet from you.

your grandmother comes to your aid, serving you more soup for dinner and telling your parents about how much you adored the forest all summer long. this is the part where you think she’ll out you, tell them that you fell in love with a boy in the forest even when you made her promise not to say a word about it.

but she says nothing. even worse, does nothing. there’s no teasing smile or subtle wink from your end like you would have expected from her, the kind of reaction she always gave you when you talked to her about him. you tread forward with caution, as if testing new waters.

“so grandma, have you seen yeosang lately at all? how’s he doing?”

her response is strange enough to scare you.

“yeosang? you mean the young man who lives in the forest?” she relays this information back at you as if he’s some distant figure, someone you’ve rarely talked about at all.

“yeah,” you confirm, trying to hide any bewildered questions from rising hot into your throat and out of your mouth.

“why, i haven’t heard about him in a long while. i’d forgotten you met him over the summer. it seems i’m really getting old, aren’t i?” she chuckles, as if this is the most normal thing to say regarding the boy her grandchild gushed to her about for months. “but i do hope he’s holding up alright in this cold. we’ve gotten quite a bit of snow this year!” and with that, she starts going on to tell your parents about the snow from this year and last, and probably the year before that too.

you spend the rest of the meal in silence, quick to disappear to your room once your dishes are cleared from the table and washed. you find it difficult to wrap your mind around what happened at dinner tonight, wondering and wondering why the hell your grandma could seem to remember close to nothing about the boy you told her you love. for a minute you’re afraid that she’s getting sick, and that her age truly is what’s affecting her memory. but you think back to the first time you mentioned him to her and can’t help but feel an unsettling sense of deja vu.

missing him worse by the minute and growing increasingly worried for him and maybe even yourself—because what if you’ve made everything up in your head, what if it really was all the dream that it felt like it was—you resolve to finally attempt to make your way to his willow. the past three days, you’ve avoided the journey, afraid of traveling in that direction alone once again after what happened last time. but you know that if you’re to find him anywhere, it’ll be his home.

—

“sweetheart, you probably should stay inside today,” your grandmother advises over a hot breakfast. “there’s supposed to be a snow storm today, i’d hate for you to get caught up in it!”

“thanks, grandma.” you smile softly, trying to make her feel like you’ll heed her directions to lessen the worried crease of her brow. it makes you feel a little bit guilty when you know that you have no intent whatsoever to skip your outing in the forest today.

the moment you’re given the chance, you slip out the back door like you’ve done every other day, this time leaving a note in the living room for your grandma not to worry too much.

the forest is less glittery today, with the grey clouds stretching out to cover the vastness of the unseen blue sky. you set out in the direction that your heart knows better than your mind, trying to drown out the fear hanging in the back of your mind and the ache in your joints that comes from the hard work of trudging through thick snow.

when the snow begins to fall, you pay it no mind, solely intent on finding yeosang and unworried by the slow drifting down of the tiny flakes. but with each passing minute, the snow in the sky grows thicker and falls with determination rather than passivity. then, when you can barely see a few feet in front of you and it feels like your toes, fingers, and nose will fall off from the cold, you finally begin to wish that you had listened to your grandma.

what scares you even more is that, with the landscape so obscured, you’re not quite sure where you are anymore. a moment of panic overtakes you, and without thinking, you cry out his name into the silent air. it feels almost like that’s the only thing that could save you from the storm; if he finds you.

but that panic subsides into a more manageable pit of anxiety in your stomach when you try to push yourself back to rationality. you seek out your own footprints before they’re completely covered by the new snow and follow their faint outlines until they fade away. you don’t get too far, but you pray it’s enough to point you in the right direction. yet, your hope wanes as your exhaustion grows along with the hot pit in your stomach that you wish could warm your shaking limbs.

“yeosang?” you call out, quieter this time. “why can’t i find you?” you choke out, and suddenly you feel a lump in your throat and a burn in your eyes. but the last thing you want to do out here is cry and have your own tears freeze to your lashes and cheeks. “you said you’d wait for me…”

you hang your head as a feeling of defeat washes over you. you curse under your breath and force yourself to lift your head and keep going, intent on saving yourself. but as your gaze goes back to the white streaked landscape, the image of the dark trees and bright snow is interrupted with something moving towards you, quickly and silently. for a moment, you’re scared, but in the next you’re heaving a sigh of relief that comes out sounding much more like a sob.

you’ve barely taken a step forward before his arms are wrapped around you. his heavy breathing is loud in your ear and the brush of his cheek against yours as he pulls you into him is like a piece of heaven.

“yeosang,” you gasp out as your gloved hands clench the plush of his thick coat. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, just holds you as if he thought he’d never see you again.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, pulling away from you to properly look at you.

you nod. “it’s cold,” you offer as a lame explanation while taking in the image that you’ve missed so much. “you’re so beautiful.” whether the flush in his cheeks is from the cold or your words, you’re not sure, but god are you happy to see it again.

his face becomes serious in a split second when he remembers that you’re shivering. your face had him distracted for a moment. “it’s far too cold for you to be out here right now, lovely.”

“i just wanted to find you,” you let your reason slip. now he’ll feel sorry about it.

and as you knew it would, his face falls even further, but the love in his eyes still grows. but he doesn’t scold you softly in the way you thought he would. he doesn’t tell you that you shouldn’t have been that reckless for him. not because he doesn’t care, just because he’s so relieved to see you. at least you’re safe now.

“let’s get you warm,” is all he says, pulling you into his side and guiding you to the closest shelter he knows of. he’s glad you wandered in this direction, easily taking you to the cabin he told you he lived in before telling you the truth about his magic. you lean into him heavily, letting him do most of the work in getting you there.

“thank god,” he mumbles to himself when he finds the cabin stocked with wood and matches. he sits you down in a chair by the fireplace and wraps you in the few blankets he can find before starting a fire. he tries to keep you talking as he removes your boots and damp socks, redressing your feet with his own pair. then there’s a pot full of water hanging above the fire that’s already starting to bubble with heat. he’s sitting at your feet on the rug, hands holding yours through a blanket to try and transfer some of his body heat to you.

“i missed you,” you mumble as you finally settle down, comforted by the heat of the fire that burns so bright in the hearth that it’s almost raging.

“i missed you, too.” his voice is hushed. it’s earnest, but he says it like it’s something he’s never supposed to be able to tell you. like he can’t believe he’s got you again.

“i meant it when i promised i’d come back for you,” you whisper, fighting the urge to fall asleep.

“i know,” he assures, “and i meant it when i promised i’d wait. i have waited and there’s not a day that went by where i wasn’t thinking of you.”

“so why didn’t you come to me when i first started looking for you?” you beg for him to answer in truth.

“my love,” he starts, cautious and afraid to say it out loud, as if he’ll jinx himself and unravel it all by admitting it, “you weren’t supposed to be looking for me. you weren’t supposed to remember me, at least not the way that we were. you weren’t supposed to remember loving me.”

you squeeze his hand and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “what do you mean? how could i ever forget loving you?”

“magic,” he says simply, dropping the word heavily. “it makes humans forget, at least for the most part, about meeting creatures from our world to protect us. sometimes they’ll remember those of us like me, the ones that look like humans, but never more than a vague idea. it’s like a dream. so vivid when it happens, but quick to disappear from your mind once you’re awake and out of that world. so…you’re not supposed to remember anything much about…us.”

it all feels like a tall wave of stinging water, salty like the tears threatening to spill, surging over you and knocking you right off of your feet.

“why–,” your voice cracks, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he says, voice pleading. “if you knew, it would have been looming over your head like a ticking clock. i wanted you to be able to just be happy while we were together, i didn’t want you to worry about it. about me.”

“but it was looming over your head,” you cry, “you were hurting all alone, convinced i’d forget that i love you, and what? you’d have to love without me to love you back?”

he nods, and a tear slips down his cheek. “i loved you– still love you so much that i couldn’t push you away. as long as i could love you while you remembered me, i was alright with loving you when you forgot. i’m sorry for hiding more from you, i swear i am, but it was worth it to me. to let you leave me with hope rather than a final goodbye… i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” the last sentence is whispered, as if it’s something he’s realized just now, that he didn’t say a word just as much for you as for himself. it breaks your heart to see tears flow from his apologetic eyes so freely.

“but i do remember you. and god, do i remember loving you. i’ve remembered you and the way you make me feel every day since i told you that you were unforgettable.” he looks up at you like you’re the most heavenly thing he’s ever set his eyes upon.

“thank you,” yeosang whispers through his tears, voice thick with emotion, “thank you for remembering. i don’t even know how it’s possible, but i thought i’d go crazy without you. i thought it would be fine, but it took everything in me not to go right to you when you got here. i knew i wouldn’t be able to act as if i didn’t love you more than anything else. i’m sorry i’m late.”

“quit apologizing and just kiss me, will you?”

his expression is relieved as he scrambles to his knees and leans in close to you. you lean forward, letting the blankets fall from your hands in favor of placing them on his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. you almost break the kiss when you feel a fresh wave of tears fall from his eyes, but you wipe them away gently with your thumbs, kissing him harder to prove to him that you’re really there. then his hands are on your waist, holding you tight and pulling you closer. the movement of his lips is practically desperate, and he wants to kiss you with all the gentleness that he can muster, but he just can’t help it when you’re right here in front of him.

“i love you,” he mumbles against your lips and cuts off your reply as he goes back to kissing you hard. he’s trying to get so close that he pulls you right off the chair and onto the floor, into his lap. “i need you,” he whispers with the softness he wants you to feel from him. your arms wrap around his neck and you think his kisses must have magic in them too when his lips are on yours again. it’s safe to say that you’ve warmed up by now. to catch your breath, you pull back and brush your nose against his with all the affection in the world. “yeosang, you are like a dream. just the kind that’s so beautiful and loved that i could never, never forget you.”

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Oh Chute // Bob Floyd

Summary: For some reason you’d never know, yours and Jake personal Heaven becomes a check point for the friends you left behind. One by one the Daggers come through on their way to their forever life after death.

Warnings: Mentions of death. Blunt force trauma. F-18 accident. Bob Floyd Angst.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author Note: This is a spin off Series to Bruises. Masterlist Tagged below.

Bruises Masterlist | Life After Death Masterlist

Name: Robert Floyd: Age: 36 Cause Of Death: Blunt Force Trauma sustained via fall.

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

“Where the hell am I?” Robert Floyd had no idea where the hell he was. One minute he was in the cockpit, sitting behind Phoenix like he had done for years, and then? He was in a field somewhere in the middle of nowhere. His head hurt, a lot. But when he came to with a mouth full of dirt he knew something had to be wrong. Very wrong.

“Oi.” Jake Seresin loved golden hour. It was his favorite time of the day. When the sun would kiss the horizon and leave a beautiful golden hume across the fields that seemed never ending. Rolling plains of green lush fields that were all his, all yours. Your own silence of paradise.

“Hotshot!” Jake snapped at the Boxer whose hair stuck up along his spine. His bark was just that, all bark and no bite. “I’m gonna get your vocal cords clipped if you don’t cut it out man.” It’s an empty threat that the Boxer dog has heard a billion times before—and it always seems to fall on deaf ears. Hotshot kept barking in the direction of where he’d sensed danger looming. “Dammit—!”

Jake stood from where he was crouching to fix the broken wire on the fence that bordered what he could only assume was another property. Someone else’s slice of heaven. He hadn’t ever seen what was beyond the rolling hills, but he didn’t care all that much. He already had everything he ever needed and more.

“Hello!? Is anyone here!?”

“Huh?” Jake frowned when he saw it, a figure dragging a parachute across the field in his direction. “Ain’t no way—“ Jake shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He pocketed the gloves he’d been wearing and took a few cautionary steps closer to the figure that grew closer and closer. Until he knew for sure who he was seeing:

“Floyd?” It comes out a little bit questionable and albeit hesitant because Jake isn’t sure why exactly he was seeing Bob on his property. “Bob? Is that you?” He calls out again. “Oh fuckk—this can’t be good.” Jake says that last part to himself, he knows that the only people here are already dead or figments of his imagination.

Bob freezes in his tracks, it had been a few years since he’d heard that unforgettable voice. It’s Jake, it’s Hangman. Bob can only just make out the blonde hair and the stupidly symmetrical physique, but regardless of the distance he knows it’s Jake Seresin. Oh crap. He’d fallen asleep before training hadn’t he? He was asleep in the red room right this very second, dreaming of a friend he lost not too many years back.

“Hangman! Oh my god! What are you doing here?” Bob asks all the while he’s back on track, walking towards Jake as he makes his way over. Hotshot is already a mile ahead and at Bob's feet in no time, wagging his tail and licking Bob's hand. A welcome fit for an old friend. “Hey buddy, hi!”

Like Jake said, all bark, no bite.

“Uh, I—“ Jake knows he should probably approach this conversation carefully. If Bobs here then there’s only one real explanation as to why. He’s dead. “I live here.” Jake rubs at the back of his head as he assesses Bob's reaction. There’s hardly a flinch. “This is my home man, and you’re a long way from yours.” It doesn’t make sense, why was Robert Floyd in Jake's own personal afterlife? He didn’t understand the lore as well as you but even this was making his brain itch. Surely you’d know why?

“What do you mean you live here?” Jake can see the confusion all over Bob's face when he finally does reply. He can also see the blood creeping out of his nose. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. “I just ejected, my chute got tangled—“ Jakes standing there with his arms crossed just waiting for the lightbulb to turn on. Bobs a smart guy, he should be able to connect the dots. “Hang on, you died.” Bob's frowning while he looks up at Jake once again. “You died years ago. Does that mean?”

“Dead doesn’t mean done Bob.” Jake just smiles, he still wasn’t sure why Bob was here or what happened to bring Bob here, but he was thankful to see an old friend. “You might of—“ Jake doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Bob is cutting him off. Nope. Nope this can’t be happening. Bobs not dead. He’s just asleep.

“I need to get back.” Bob just shakes his head in disbelief. “I uh—I’m dreaming, yeah.” It’s his way of processing what’s happening. “I’m dreaming, yeah, yeah no I fell asleep in the rec room didn’t I?” There’s a silence that lingers in the field while Jake just looks at his old colleague, god he didn’t look a day older than the last time Jake saw the WSO.

“Sure pal.” Jake just sighs while the two men hug for what feels like the first time in a lifetime. He can feel how fast Bob's heart is racing. “Why don’t you come up to the house? I’ll fix you something to drink.” It’s the only thing Jake can think of to help settle the clearly distressed soul. Bob nods, he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s tried to wake up a few times now but damn this dream really feels real.

“Jake, is this real?” Bob nearly sobs while the two men walk back up to Jake's truck. He’d driven up to the border fence a little while ago. “Am I dead?” Jake contemplates how to handle this situation, but he settles on a little humour to take the edge off. He always did love fucking with Bob.

“As a doorknob dude.” Jake chuckles softly all the while Bob just stands there in disbelief. “You probably hit the ground hard too.'' Jake can see the colour draining from Bob's face as he takes his helmet off in the passage's seat. It’s then he sees the blood pouring out of Bob's ears. Damn. The ground must have been really hard. Jake remembers that feeling all too well. The thud, the snow. But for Bob it must have been so much worse.

“Oh god.”

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

“Honey!” You heard Jake's boots against the hardwood floor before you saw him. He’s got that all too familiar walk that lets you know it’s him. Not that it would ever be anyone else, but right now it did sound as if there were a few extra footsteps present. “You around?”

“I’m in the kitchen with Ellie!” You cooed back. Bouncing softly while you waited for your tea to steep. “She’s just gone down for a—“ Before you could even say that your daughter had just fallen asleep against your chest in her wrap, you were rendered speechless by the scared silhouette behind your husband. “Bob?”

“Hollywood?” Bob was in more shock than you were. “Oh okay yeah now I’m definitely dreaming.” He steps past Jake and into the kitchen to give you a hug that was all too welcomed. You send your husband a frown of concern over the WSO’s shoulder and Jake confirms what you think you already know.

Robert Floyd was dead. He’d recently died or was dying as you spoke and he was in denial about it.

“Uh—Bob honey I’d say it’s good to see you but I don’t think you belong here.” You cooed with a soft expression plastered across your face. As much as you loved seeing an old friend you knew for certain that if Bob was dead he needed to get to his own forever home before he got stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead. “What happened? What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I’ll get you a drink man.” Jake adds all the while you and Bob sit down at the dining table in the kitchen. He finishes making you your cup of tea while he listens to Bob explain the last thing he remembered before he was waking up in the middle of Jake's back paddock.

“It was just a simple training session.” Perhaps the denial was beginning to wear off, you could see how shaky Bob's hands were while he played with his cuticles and looked around the kitchen. “Something was wrong with our altitude gauge, Phoenix couldn’t keep the nose and before I knew it we were punching out.” It all happened so fast. “I pulled my chute.” Bob explained all the while his heart began to race as realisation set it. “But it wouldn’t untangle—“ Your heart just broke, Jakes too. He couldn’t imagine free falling from the sky like that—even though he kinda did. “I think I hit the ground before I could pull my secondary.”

“Bob, do you know where you are?” It was the softness in your voice and the love you held in your eyes that made Jake fall a little more in love with you. He did everyday. Not a day went by where he didn’t fall more in love with you. “Do you hear anything? See anyone?”

When you had died, all you could hear was Jake begging you to stay. The sunset was so beautiful and the homestead was so peaceful and nothing seemed to hurt, you just couldn’t stay. As much as it pained you to turn your back on the faded image of the love of your giving you CPR, you had to see what was inside the home you now shared with that very same man. He’d come racing up the driveway not a few months later.

“I think I’m in a hospital somewhere?” Bob could hear a beeping sound, like a heart monitor reading his pulse. “I don’t remember it hurting, dying that is.” Bob let his chin fall as Jake handed him a glass of water, remembering that the weapons system office didn’t drink in life so he probably wouldn’t in death. “We all missed you, both of you, so much.” It was a beautiful thing to hear, even after all this time. You knew Jake missed his friends and hoped they understood why he did what he did. He had to be with you. If he couldn’t in life then death would have to do.

“For what it’s worth?” You looked to your husband with an all knowing smile before you rubbed your thumb on Bob's hand to sooth his worried soul. “We know, but we’ve been happy this whole time.”

“I understand why you both did it, you know.” Bob added as he sniffed. “Rooster was so mad for so long but I always understood.” It made Jake's heart sink into his stomach, but hopefully he’d get the chance to say he was sorry one day. “Am I really dead?”

“I’m sorry Bob.” You didn’t know what else to say. “If you wanna come into my office with me I can probably help you figure out where you’re supposed to go from here?” You offered. “I’m not even really sure why you’re here and as much as I’ve really enjoyed getting to see you again, but, you can’t stay.”

“Where do I go then?” Bob asked softly and all the more confused. “I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“What’s your perfect world man?” Jake asked as he leaned back on the kitchen countertop. He had his, you were all Jake Seresin ever needed. “Your idea of heaven? Your forever home?” Your little girl was his forever dream. “Surely there’s something—“

Robert Floyd was silent for a moment, he thought about where he’d want to spend the rest of his forever life.

“I had this old drum set when I was a teenager.” You caught the glint in Bob's eye, he could hear the music playing. “My dad owned this old instrument shop that had pretty much everything you ever needed in it, drums, electric guitars, pianos, even clarinets.”

“If that’s where you wanna go Bob then I’m sure that’s where you’ll end up once you step outside our door.” You could see the gears turning in your husband's mind, he was trying to figure out why Bob was even here. It was so random, so out of the blue. Were all his friends going to come through one at a time? Was this how things worked? Did they all miss him so much they couldn’t pass on without saying goodbye?

“I’m not ready to go yet.” It was as genuine as ever. Bob was just scared, he didn’t know how to feel or what to say. All he knew was that he just needed a minute to figure out if this was real or if he’d just fallen asleep in the rec room. “Could I maybe just sit here for a while?”

“Yeah Bob.” Oh how you’d missed your friends, the people who cared the most. “Yeah, take all the time you need.”

“You can go, if you want—“ It was the softest of voices, the most calming of lullabies. Bob could hear her right in his ear. “I’m right here, you aren’t alone, so if you need to go, you go, okay?” Phoenix cried as Bob turned around in his chair to look over his shoulder. He saw the image clear as day. He was in a hospital room being kept alive by machines and tubes.

“Who is it?” You asked as Bob saw his final moments play out right before him. He never wanted that, to end up on life support. Bob had always told the people who mattered most to him to pull the plug if he ever got to that point. Phoenix must have listened.

“It’s okay, you go, say hi to Hangman and Hollywood for me.”

“Nix—“ Bob smiled at the thought of his front seater. He hoped wherever his heaven was that hers wouldn’t be far away. “She says to say hi.”

It felt all too real when you looked over to your husband. These were his people more so than they ever were yours. He’d known them for years and left them all without saying goodbye. Now was his chance.

“I really did miss you Bob.” Jake sighed as he walked across the kitchen with heavy steps. His hand came to rest on the WSO’s shoulder, bringing a comfort Bob didn’t know he’d missed so much. Jake loved you so much, that was clear to everyone who knew him once he lost you. For some it was easier to accept than others. Bob only hoped that if Rooster got a chance to stop by on his journey into the forever that he wouldn’t hold his grudge. “But I couldn’t say, every breath I took since she left felt like such a waste on me.”

Bob looked at you, and then looked back up at Jake. The blood from his ears had begun to fade. There was no more pain. Bob was simply Bob. And he could hear the drums as clear as day just outside the front door. It was his time to go.

“I’m just glad that you guys got your happily ever after.” Bob chuckled to himself. “Even if it was in death.”

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#bruises // jake seresin #life after death //#robert bob floyd #bob floyd angst #Robert Floyd top gun #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction

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