#or they all sat down for a meeting a couple decades ago and someone was like. 'ok but what if we were like. a circus.'

[philzasjuicyass]

Ok but like. The sins all being themed after an act in the circus means that, in-universe, they all either coordinated that or each one individually decided to do so and ended up accidentally matching

[disneyprincemuke]

never grow up * fem!driver

a collection of stories of when she first started out in the paddocks to the end of the season

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver

word count: 4.7k

notes: hey i started this last tuesday and jusT finished it because i had the longest week known to mankind LMFAO

(series masterlist)

pre-season testing, 2023

sebastian is almost knocked back at the sudden presence of another in what he assumed was going to be an empty garage.

test session wasn’t for another couple of hours. but there, at the far end of the garage’s exit towards the pit, sat the driver. she sits on the floor, slouched over as her legs are crossed over one another.

“you’re early!”

“i couldn’t sleep,” she answers almost immediately. she turns her head to get a glance at sebastian. she gives him a small smile before turning away again to face the empty pit and grandstands. “i figured i should just sit here and take it all in.”

he smiles, closing the door behind him. he manoeuvres in and stops right next to her. he puts his hands on his hips. “i know, right? i didn’t sleep well days leading up to my rookie year either.”

she turns her head and furrows her eyebrows. “i didn’t think someone like you got nervous.”

“oh, i was terrified,” he laughs, finally bending down and dropping himself on the concrete floor next to her. “but i can only imagine the nerves, especially in your circumstance.”

“yeah, a woman in formula 1.” when he turns to look at her, she’s fiddling around with her thumbs. “first of its kind in decades.”

she laughs dryly before leaning back, resting her hands against the gravel. years ago, following her friends into formula 3 seemed like the biggest feat. then eventually, prema took a chance on her and threw her into formula 2 with the big guys.

even then, racing on the track and sharing the paddocks with bigger names like max verstappen and fernando alonso, formula 1 still seemed so far away. with good reason too, considering that her promotion announcement had been torn apart and overanalysed by the media.

everything, from mid december to early february, everyone had been tearing her apart.

but sebastian has been watching her since she started racing in f3 in place of oscar, after moving up to f2. she’s a joy to watch on the track.

and while he’s put away his years of being a villain to the public eye, he lives to prove everyone wrong. his first year as a race engineer, and then to have a woman as his driver? he would love to see it.

he is confident in the way she holds herself behind the wheel of a race car. there’s no doubt she’s a world champion in the making.

“no,” sebastian wags a finger in the air, “you’re a driver in formula 1. everyone in this garage — in the factory — supports you. we wouldn’t have put everything in developing the car for you if we didn’t think you’d be out here wrecking everybody.”

she sighs with a shrug. “i guess.”

he pats her firmly on the shoulder. “i’ll be here every step of the way, kid.”

bahrain, 2023

sebastian feels a presence looming over him as he scans the car with the andretti's engineers. he turns around with an eyebrow raised, locking eyes with the younger girl staring up at him with wide innocent eyes and a hopeful grin. a small smile stretches on his face as he straightens his back. “hi!”

“hi.” she glances away momentarily and licks her lips. she meets his eyes again with a soft sigh and a slightly wider grin. she hums as she sways, fingertips tapping against one another. “i have an interview.”

he nods hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. “alright.”

“okay.”

sebastian watches her curiously, not moving away from her position in front of him. she hugs she can on pepsi against her stomach as her eyes dart all over the garage. “is everything okay?”

“of course!” she answers almost too fast. she perks up with a smile and curious eyes. “i have a favour to ask.”

“anything, kid. what is it?”

she takes a deep breath and breathes out slowly. she looks away momentarily again and huffs. “well, you see… people keep staring at me when i’m walking around. it’s kinda… scary. they scare me.”

“okay? are they saying anything to you? who is it? give me names.”

“they’re not! but i can feel them whisper as i pass by — that’s never a good sign.”

“i’m sure they’re not gossiping about you, kid.”

“yeah, but, you know? i don’t like the possibility that they might be doing just that. and sometimes they point.”

sebastian smiles, slowly realising what she’s getting at. “do you want me to come with you?”

she hums, scrunching her nose and pressing her lips together. “do i? want you to come with me? what a bother!”

he shrugs, slowly walking away from her. “that’s okay, i was just offering. i’ll just see you–“

“yes! yes, seb! please, please,” she whines, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the exit to the paddocks. “please come with me. i’m scared, i’m nervous, and oscar and logan are missing.”

he laughs, throwing his clipboard onto the table. “okay, let’s go. i’ll show you the best spots, kid.”

saudi arabia, 2023

she stares with wide eyes as she tries to process the question in her head. it’s the first of its kind, to be asked something like that. it echoes in her head like some of record player, unsure how she’s supposed to answer that question.

“do you think you’ll last longer than a couple of races like the last woman in formula 1?”

are they waiting for her to slip up and bring another woman down? a woman that’s basically urged her to even start racing in the first place?

is she supposed to say something that they could twist to make it sound like she’s against other women making it to where she is now? she’s just not sure. who even thinks of that question?

“is that question really appropriate?” sebastian steps forward with a hand on her back. “did you really sit there, watching this brilliant young woman walk towards you, and think that that’s an appropriate question to ask?”

“no, like i mean–“

“she will no longer be doing interviews with you. i don’t give a fuck who you work for,” sebastian mutters, slowly whisking the shocked girl away, shielding her away from the cameras.

she stays planted on the ground, head turning to follow sebastian slowly walking away. “no, it’s okay, really. i was just a little taken aback by the question.”

“no, this interview is over.”

sebastian shoots the reporter one last look before successfully whisking the young driver away from the cameras. “you don’t have to answer every question, you know?”

“it’s rude if i don’t,” she sighs, shaking her head. “i have to answer. what if they start thinking i’m a snob?”

“why is their problem if you’re a snob? if they ask you stupid questions, they can’t keep expecting sane answers,” sebastian scoffs. “write your narrative, don’t let them dictate and twist your answers.”

azerbajian, 2023

“seb,” she cries, nuzzling into his side as the marshals escort her. she has tears in her eyes as she approaches him by the medical building, finally pulling her hair back as sebastian takes her into his arms. “i’m sorry.”

“no,” he hums, rubbing her arm gently. “the important thing is that you’re okay, kid. don’t think about the crash at all.”

she shakes her head against his chest, finally letting out a soft sob. “but it’s so unlike me to crash. i’ve been racing for years!”

“these things happen.” he cranes his neck and pulls away slightly to glance at her face. she’s all red with tears streaming down her face, hiding her face away from curious race attendees. “you know what we should do?”

she mutters a soft ‘what’, rubbing her nose roughly as she glances up at him with sad eyes. he’s only gotten to know her better recently in light of him taking her under his wing, but it’s a very different energy when she’s like this. it’s not something he wants to get used to.

“i’ll walk you to the med bay, and then i’ll go and get you some ice cream. does that sound good?”

she shakes her head and sighs, letting sebastian wrap a protective arm around her as they walk. “i don’t want ice cream.”

sebastian gasps softly, flashing her a bewildered stare. “what? you don’t what?”

she sniffles. “i don’t feel like eating ice cream.”

“oh, come on,” he giggles, squeezing her cheek very lightly. “i’ll get you extra marshmallows and even add sprinkles in.”

she looks at him from the corners of her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips at his suggestion. “really? and extra chocolate syrup? just this once?”

sebastian nods with a smile. he moves over to her other side when he sees a camera approaching them, waving a hand in the air to shoo them away. “i’ll even let you eat a whole pint.”

australia, 2023

sebastian trails behind her, juggling between his phone and her helmet in her hands. he watches with a proud smile as she is stopped by a reporter.

“what does it feel like to be the first woman to score in formula 1 after years of the drought?”

she giggles giddily, stopping to answer a question. “hi! um, yes, it feels amazing to be the one to do it. it’s not a lot of points, but it really means a lot to me.”

“of course. do you think you can maintain this performance throughout your rookie season? what are some challenges you think you may face in the year to come?”

her eyes widen at the several questions for her. it feels just like they haven’t had any serious questions regarding the race for her since she started the year. sometimes they do, but it’s never really anything good that would reflect on her.

she looks over her shoulder, meeting sebastian’s eyes, as she smiles at him widely, as if to ask him ‘do you hear these legitimate questions they’re asking me?’. sebastian only gives her a warm smile in return with a thumbs-up.

she turns away and tries to come up with a proper answer to the question. “i think with sebastian’s help, it’s definitely made the transition a lot easier. hopefully i can stay consistent in the races to come. and my biggest challenge? definitely trying to catch up to max.”

they share a laugh. she turns around momentarily, looking at sebastian for approval of what she’s just rambled on about. sebastian gives her another smile and a nod, making a gesture to turn her back around.

“well, i think that’s everyone’s biggest challenge thus far into the season. thank you for your time today and good luck.”

miami, 2023

she holds the phone against her ear, temple laying against the window to stare at the paddocks. “where are you?”

“what do you mean?” sebastian’s voice comes through her phone, making her raise an eyebrow. “i don’t start as early as you today.”

“what? i’m supposed to walk into the paddocks by myself?” she shrieks, lifting her head. she looks around outside the car, watching the several people walking in and out.

“yes? aren’t you with oscar and logan?”

she tears her eyes away and turns to the other two men inside with her. “i don’t trust either of these idiots to not embarrass me walking in!”

logan throws his arms in the air, turning to her from the driver’s seat. his arm pokes between the two front seats, reaching to the back to try and hit her. she scowls and smacks his hand away, scowering away into the far corner from logan.

“you will be okay, kid. would you rather you walk in by yourself?”

she lets a moment pass. “okay. you got me there.” she sighs and rolls her eyes. “fine.”

monaco, 2023

“i’ve got an interview!”

he sees a shadow pass through the bottom of the car, prompting sebastian to jump up. the girl is already halfway towards the large exit that leads to the pitstop with a lollipop in hand. “coming!”

“it’s okay!” she holds her hands up in front of sebastian, grinning as he comes to a stop about three steps from the car.

sebastian tilts his head and frowns slightly. “what?”

“yeah, it’s a rookie interview. i got my bodyguards with me again today!”

he raises his eyebrows with an impressed grin. “oh! you’ll be okay without me?”

“yeah!”

as if on cue, two men — one in orange and on in blue — pulls up to the garage. “let’s go, loser!”

“okay,” sebastian laughs, greeting the two with a smile. he pats his driver on the back. “be back in one piece. i’ll see you later.”

“absolutely,” she grins. she runs around the car, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him. “you got my pepsi in the freezer?”

“i got 2 of them in the freezer just for you kid,” sebastian whispers, squeezing her back. he presses a kiss to the top of her head and waves as she starts walking away. “be safe!”

canada, 2023

“you don’t possibly need me just to get a cup of coffee downstairs, do you?” sebastian sighs. despite his complaint, he still follows the young driver down the stairs of the andretti racing home to get a drink.

and it’s been one their routines every race weekend: getting coffee together after their daily team meeting in his office. it’s endearing, really, how much she relies on him every weekend when she feels that the paddocks have their eyes glued to her too much.

“do you not like spending time with me anymore, seb?” she jokes, looking over her shoulder to tease him. “you can just say so.”

he laughs in bouts of sarcastic ‘haha’s and scowls at her slightly. “that’s not what i mean. half the season has come and gone — shouldn’t you be more comfortable roaming by yourself?”

“i guess,” she shrugs. “i just feel like being with you today!”

he pouts his bottom lip out and presses a hand against his chest. “oh, thank you. how thoughtful.”

sebastian stops in the kitchen of the office, grabbing the two custom andretti mugs with their names on the handle. his cup’s got her name and autograph, and hers with his. he extends his hand to her. “you know how i like my coffee, kid.”

“of course! i’m like your personal barista.”

austria, 2023

sebastian pushes the door open with a soft knock. “kid, are you better?”

“no! go away!” she shrieks, chucking a small pillow towards the door. “where are my meds? is logan seriously not back with them yet?”

he puts his hands in the air to surrender. “he’s trying to get here as quick as possible. are the cramps still bad?”

suddenly he feels like he wants to crawl into a random hole and stay there — the glare she is giving him simply made him wish that he never bothered to open his mouth.

“i don’t know. you tell me at the state you see me in,” she growls, eyebrows furrowed. “like–“

she whines again, clutching herself as she curls herself into a smaller ball on her beanbag. she closes her eyes and nuzzles her face into the stuffed koala with a soft cry.

“kid,” sebastian sighs, scratching his head. it sucks seeing anybody like that. “is there anything i can do to help? logan should be here any minute.”

“i want pepsi! freezing pepsi! like, with small bits of frozen pepsi in it — that’s how cold i want it.”

he hums. “i thought you shouldn’t be drinking cold drinks on your period?”

“you asked me how to help! i want pepsi! my frozen can of pepsi!”

he scrambles to run out of the room. “okay! i’ll get it from the fridge!”

silverstone, 2023

she shakes her arms and adjusts the neckline of her fireproofs. “i can do it.”

“yeah!” sebastian cheers, pumping his fist into the air. “i believe in you!”

“exactly. i can do it!”

but despite her words of encouragement for herself, her feet stay planted on the ground. her fists are balled by her side as her body stiffens up by the door with a scowl.

sebastian tilts his head, moving his head around hers to take a look at her face. he glances at the door. “do you have any intention to actually do it?”

“some time in the next hour, maybe,” she sighs. she turns around to sebastian and shakes her head. “i can’t do it, mate. i want to go home.”

“what?” sebastian throws his head back. he turns her back around and pushes her forward. “i promise you won’t die.”

“how do you know that?”

“you’re just walking the paddocks to the building to film a shoot with oscar and logan. you’ll survive the 2 minute walk, i swear.”

she huffs and pushes the glass doors open, glancing back at sebastian. “i’ll make a run for it so nobody has the time to realise it’s me.”

he shrugs with an impressed smile. if he were in her shoes, he never would have thought of that. “whatever works, kid.”

italy, 2023

“seb.” the girl drags her feet along the floors of the garage, hunched over slightly with a hand clutching her stomach. “how long til the first round of practice?”

“about 20 minutes,” sebastian says, looking up from his clipboard. by the sound of her voice, he already knows what’s going on. his suspicions are confirmed when he sees her at her state. “fuck’s sake.”

“i’m sorry. i promise i won’t take too long in the toilet.”

“we told you to stop eating ice cream before you have to get on the track,” sebastian sighs, throwing his head back. he puts the clipboard down, annoyed, yet he still reaches forward to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders and guides her towards the door leading to the paddocks. “your track anxiety doesn’t go well with ice cream, remember?”

“the idea was good in theory — it was pretty warm earlier.”

sebastian sighs and shakes his head. “you know where to find the meds for your stomach, right?”

she frowns, looking up at him. the pale lips and the sweaty forward simply told him everything he needed to know. he laughs with a small nod. “okay, i’ll deliver them to you with a glass of really cold water, okay?”

she nods with a small smile. “okay. thank you, seb.”

singapore, 2023

“what do i do with this?”

sebastian slowly turns to the girl with a scowl on his face. “what do you mean?”

“what do i do with this?” she repeats, putting her arms in the air in question. she turns to look sebastian in the eyes with eyebrows furrowed. “where do i put it? is it even mine?”

“they will make a replica for you to bring home.”

“but i live in an apartment with two hyperactive kids — they’ll only break it.”

“your ki– you mean kidnapper and stubby? just put it up away from them!”

“i,” she trails off, shaking her head. she lets her stare linger on the trophy sitting on the table in her driver’s room with worry. “i kinda don’t want it unless it’s a trophy for a race win.”

“complacent!” sebastian laughs. “are you that confident about being a race winner?”

“you don’t think i could win a race?”

“wait.”

“that’s kinda mean, seb. i don’t know.”

“you know that’s not what i mean.”

she shrugs and turns back to the trophy. “we just need to play bumper cars with max on the track, maybe.”

“maybe? definitely.”

she shrugs and puts her hands on her hips. “i reckon we just need more street circuits to throw max off. then maybe we get liam to be my teammate next year!”

qatar, 2023

sebastian looks up at the sound of the click of his door. he raises an eyebrow, frowning at the girl trying to silently escaping his office. “where are you going, kid?”

she stops with a hand on the door, head poking out as she smiles. “i’m going to get us coffee downstairs.”

he frowns and furrows his eyebrows. “without me?”

she squeaks slightly as she raises her eyebrows in shock. “i was gonna bring it back up here to you so we can chat while we discuss race strategies.”

“oh.”

“is something wrong? do you prefer drinking something else?”

sebastian shakes his head with a small smile. “no reason. you used to ask me to get coffee with you.” he puts a hand on his chest. “have you grown to hate me, kid?”

“aw, seb! it’s not like that!” she coos, running back into the room. she runs over to his side, resting herself on the armrest and throws her arms around sebastian. “i just thought i’d like to finally go get it myself, you know? you won’t be around forever.”

sebastian has to admit — that one kind of hurt him a little. he’d come out of retirement to step into an unlikely position in the sport so he could be part of her development as a driver. and also because he was starting to regret his decision slightly, but that’s besides the point.

and also the fact that he’s grown quite fond of her. while he’s got three children of his own back home, it’s just different with her.

“wow, kid. counting down the days to my eventual retirement that i won’t take back?”

“no, you misunderstand me, seb,” she giggles, resting her cheek on top of his head. “i just wanted to be a big girl; like you always tell me to be in the paddocks every weekend!”

brazil, 2023

“you’ll be okay without me?” sebastian hums, raising an eyebrow as he stands in her hotel room. he sinks into her pillows on the bed as he watches the young girl darting around the room to gather her things. “i can come if you want.”

“logan and oscar will be with me,” she grins, scrunching her nose with a soft giggle. “unless you would like to come with us, seb?”

he scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “no way. i don’t understand valorant like you kids — i would have more questions than anything else. you don’t want that, kid.”

she laughs, shoving her items into her small purse. “it’s blythe’s finals! and i’m just as clueless about valorant as you are. the 3 of us know nothing.”

“i’m just upset you hadn’t invited me in the first place.”

“it was last minute! just come with us, seb!”

“i don’t have a ticket.”

“one of the players’ my sister. we’ll find a way to get you in without a ticket.”

sebastian raises his eyebrow. “wow, corruption has gotten to you quick.”

“no, that’s literally how we’re able to attend. blythe pulled strings.”

he rolls his eyes, a small smile growing on his lips as he pushes himself off the bed. he actually does want to come along. finding out he wasn’t even part of the original plan hurt, yes, but he doesn’t want to push himself to be a part of plans that he’s not invited to.

“okay, if you insist.”

las vegas, 2023

she raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “you’re fucking kidding, right?”

max raises his eyebrows, turning to the girl with an impressed grin. while she’s not one to shy from cussing away from cameras, doing it with a room full of cameras and reporters is simply a different thing. he glances at sebastian who has his chest puffed out and eyebrows furrowed since the question was being asked.

the question was easy: how do you do your hair for race weekends, and how does it always look good after the race?

kimi is right, his lecture that weekend in austin has finally taken its mark in her brain. why are all the questions directed at her during press conferences always redirected back to her womanhood?

if she wanted to be asked about her makeup routine and collection, she’d have started an instagram live instead of wasting her time on this stupid couch.

“it’s unfair, don’t you think? you’ve asked me one question about racing, now suddenly it’s about my hair?”

“in a sense that–“

“i’m just curious. i’ve raced the races of what i can give this year to prove that i should be respected as a driver. why are you asking me about my hair?” she raises an eyebrow. “you’re a 50-year-old man. what have you got to learn from my haircare routine?”

max snorts and sebastian bursts into laughter. she clenches her jaw, genuinely getting slightly agitated. she meets sebastian’s eyes who only gives her a thumbs up with the proudest smile.

it’s nice to finally see her standing up for herself.

abu dhabi, 2023

sebastian holds the phone up to his ear, looking into the designated car that she’d taken to the paddocks that night.

“yeah?” a soft voice comes through, getting overshadowed by the loud music in the background. “what’s up, seb?”

“where are you? i’m at your car.”

he hears her hum in confusion. “what do you mean? i’m already in the paddocks, seb.”

he scratches his head, raising his eyebrow as he looks towards the busy entrance of the paddocks. “what do you mean? i thought you’d wait for me outside? aren’t logan and oscar coming in later than we are?”

“yes. but i arrived before you so i thought i’d just wait for you here,” she explains. “did i forget something?”

“no, it’s just,” he sighs and starts making his way to the row of gantries, “you’d usually wait for me if you were by yourself. i thought we were doing the same — i completely forgot that you’re a big girl now.”

he hears her laugh, louder and wholeheartedly. “seb, that’s so sweet! i can’t believe you looked for me even though i haven’t said anything!”

he rolls his eyes. “oh, shut up.”

— bonus

“seb, look what i got you over the break!” she shrieks, jogging into his room with a paper bag in her hands. “i got us matching somethings!”

he raises an eyebrow, looking up from his phone. “what? you got me something?”

“yeah! i wouldn’t have gotten my first points without you, so i wanted to get us something to celebrate our first points as a duo,” she giggles, sitting on the seat on the other side of the table.

she puts the paper bag down and starts pulling a set of mug out of it. she hands him a mug and holds up her own excitedly.

he looks at the mug. it’s got her name on the handle and her signature messily printed over their names mushed together into one in big and blocky purple letters.

“look at the bottom.”

‘long live — all the magic we made’ with the date of the australia race is carved into the bottom of the mug.

he smiles, looking up. “you really didn’t have to, kid. but thank you. this is so thoughtful.”

she claps silently, jumping on the spot with a giggle. “it’s just a small token to remember one of the times we made history together.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 17

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 17: meeting the overlords

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

"I'm sure you can all imagine why I called you here," Lucifer began. "Humans are starting to put together that Full mages are not from their world. As I've stated in previous meetings, we should be revealing ourselves, not waiting to be discovered."

I scanned the face of every Overlord at the table. They were all in their Demon form, some more terrifying than others. There were eighteen Overlords in total but each one had a second hand, putting the overall count at 36 individuals. 37 if you counted the King of Hell.

"A decade ago we had decided to wait some time before revealing ourselves," one of the Overlords said. She had long white horns and huge, white clawed hands. Her eyes were blood shot red. "Why the change of heart?"

My shoulders stiffened when I realized who sat two seats down from her. The man was wearing his pink hat and jacket. It was the owner of the fighting ring who drugged me. I couldn't tell where he was looking with his glasses covering most of his face.

"We were, but then someone went crazy on the surface." The man who spoke wore a navy blue suit and had a flatscreen TV for a face. His voice sounded familiar. "Tricking them with the whole illusion magic doesn't work when you massacre them with the 'illusion'."

"I do believe you were the one who broadcasted the whole thing, old friend," Alastor didn't hesitate. "What was it you said? You're all in for a real treat, tonight?"

"It was your choice to come out the way you did. I was just doing what I do best."

"I fail to see the problem when your broadcast barely had sight of me. We all know how unreliable it can be."

"How about all the people who escaped to tell the--"

"Regardless of how or why it happened, it did," Lucifer interrupted, "and we need to decide what the next steps will be. I'd like to hear from the surface Overlords about announcing ourselves to the surface."

"Now?!" someone yelled from the other end of the table.

"Yes, now," he answered firmly. "Thanks to Alastor's incident--" radio static caught in the Radio Demon's throat "--we'll need to reveal ourselves soon. We need to set our historic record straight and keep it that way."

A moment of silence fell over everyone's head. They looked between each other with various expressions, no one quite sure what to say next. I looked at the Demons standing behind them but most of them had blank stares, revealing nothing about their own thoughts.

"Why do we need to do anything if they're going to figure it out anyways?" someone finally asked.

A woman with large pigtails sitting beside the ring owner laughed. "Do you want to stay an Overlord on the surface? Humans are notorious for killing anything that poses a threat to them."

"We have to show that Demons are more than just humans with more-than-average magic," the TV added. "If we don't, they'll hunt us down for sport. There's more of them than there are of us by a large margin."

"Why are we worrying about being hunted? Humans with Slight magic are no match for Demons." The Overlord was a huge humanoid wolf with neon colors all over.

"Humans together under a common cause are a match for Demons," the woman in white said. "It's important to set a precedent before they realize they can outman us."

"How does thy propose to accomplish such a feat?" This Demon had two sets of bright green eyes and his cloak wrapped tightly around his body.

Demons started looking between Alastor and the TV.

"A television broadcast wouldn't be a bad idea," the TV man smiled.

"Aren't we expecting to reach the entire surface? You barely cover a continent as is," Alastor challenged.

"I advance more with every passing day. It would take less than a month to have a reach all over the surface. Something that can be accomplished if your highness provides proper resources." He nodded his head to Lucifer.

"Yet I've been broadcasting to the entire surface for centuries," Alastor said. "Since the Great Collapse, radio has been the only reliable source of communication."

"Who would believe the word of a Demon who's been tormenting them for hundreds of years?" he snapped back. "People can see a Demon for themselves instead of taking your word."

"Television can be fabricated."

"A radio host can lie."

"They're both important," Lucifer interjected, "and having both can solidify what we're trying to do. Vox, I can provide the resources you need to expand. Alastor, you'll wait for my word before you broadcast." The Radio Demon's eyes narrowed in response.

"What exactly are we broadcasting?" Vox asked, seemingly bored now. He scratched at his bright blue claws. "Humans know Demons as Full mages. Are we merely changing our name?"

"Humans," Lucifer explained, "use the term Full mages to mean anyone who can control more than just the basic elements. But Full mage Humans and Demons are two different species."

"What is the difference?" the neon wolf asked. I was surprised to notice a collection of nods from the rest of the Overlords. How much of their own history did they not know?

"The main difference is that we have control over Existence magic. So dark, chrono, and cosmo magic. Humans have no control over such magic. Demons can control various advance magic, even bending and expanding it, such as technology magic." He gestured to Vox, who casted a smirk in Alastor's direction. "Humans can control very few advance magic. The most I've seen a Human control is four. Demons have access to all, though many of you know it's best to pick a few to master."

"You don't expect to share this information with Humans, do you?" the woman in white questioned. "Giving up such crucial information could lead to our ultimate downfall."

"You're right," Lucifer agreed, "That would give them too much information about us. But we need them to be aware of the difference between Human Full mages and Demons. Aside from appearances of course." He looked down the eighteen frightening faces.

"I say we tell them we can control everything," Pigtails suggested. Well, more like declared. "They'll never know. If we scare them into thinking we can master any and all elements of life, they couldn't imagine fighting against something so powerful. And appearances would just confirm it."

"What happens if they develop the technology to rival our power?" the woman in white asked.

"I don't think you'd be around to see that day," Pigtails shot at her, "And besides, we'll just keep them from getting to that point. They're all about advertising their new inventions. Riding of it and its inventor is easy."

"Thou would be foolish to not prepare for thy future." The man dressed in black with neon eyes spoke before the woman could.

Lucifer nodded. "It's something to be concerned about, but it's something to discuss only after we've revealed ourselves."

"Sooo." Vox ran his long claw across the table so it made a screeching noise. I clenched my jaw and dampened the noise. "We're telling the Humans that we can control any and every element. What happens if they get angry?"

"Surface Overlords have been up there for quite some time." Lucifer crossed his arms. "How would you handle an uprising?"

"Same way as down here," the ring owner beside Vox answered, "Fear, manipulation, and manpower."

"I would advise surface Overlords to maintain and increase this manpower." Lucifer stood from his chair. "I will contact all of you when we are ready to reveal ourselves. As for you two," he looked to Alastor and Vox, "we will speak privately about what exactly you will be broadcasting. This meeting is over."

Everyone filed out of the room within minutes. Rosie casted a smile and a small wave in my direction as she left. As she did, another woman walked in. She wore an all red suite and had long, gorgeous blonde hair. She was followed by a shorter woman who had a lot of silver hair and large red X over her eye.

The pair quickly made their way over to me, the blonde energetically introducing herself as Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer. I was speaking to Princess of Hell.

"Are you really Alastor's soulmate?" She got really close to my face. Alastor casted a glance over his shoulder at me.

"Uh, yeah."

"I can't believe it! I never thought he would have one."

"Doesn't everyone get a soulmate?"

"Demons never had soulmates until they could go to the surface. Once the portal opened they started to get them, so a lot of the old Overlords don't have one." She spoke so fast it was taking an extra effort to comprehend it all.

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"It's pretty cool if you think about it. But you have to tell me what it's like being his soulmate. Ever since I met him he's always bragged about not being chained down to a soulmate."

"Oh uh..." How do you answer a question like that? I noticed Alastor had cocked his head a little to hear better. How was he paying attention to both his conversation and this one at the same time? "He's uh...how long have you known him?"

"Well I've personally known him for only about a century, now."

"Oh. Uh...and how long have you known of him?"

"He's been a nuisance for everyone for centuries," the other girl mused.

"Interesting." I played off my sudden realization.

"So what's he like?" Charlie pressed. "He's always going on about everything just being entertainment and not getting attached to anyone."

"Oh, well, he hasn't really changed then. I didn't think I had one either, quite honestly."

"Were you really a ring fighter?" the other girl abruptly asked.

"Vaggie—"

"What?"

"I was," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"It was just really cool to watch you fight. I saw the whole thing online. You were amazing!"

"Oh." My face grew warm. "Uh, I really didn't do well."

"Sure you did. Were you taught how to fight or did you learn it from the rings?"

"I learnt it."

"How many rings did you take down?" Charlie asked.

"I think seven? But I didn't really take them down. They started back up a week later." I folded my arms together, drawing in on myself.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. I looked between it and her, surprised at how friendly she was being toward me. "I know a thing or two about failure."

"Charlie..."

"It's okay Vaggie."

"What do you mean?" I gently pushed.

"I tried saving my people awhile back and it didn't really work out. I tried to redeem sinners and Demons so they could go to Heaven but...it kinda fell through."

"How come?" I turned to face her completely.

"Well, it was going alright but then the portal to the surface opened. And what was the point of being redeemed when they could relive life on the surface?"

"Oh, that's really bad timing." I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that there was a Heaven and Hell in the first place, and that the Princess of Hell was telling me she was centuries old. She seemed more like my age.

"Yeah. But I figured I would wait and try again in a different way. Reimagine it!" Her eyes widened and she looked like a little kid with a gloriously bad idea.

"I think you totally should," I agreed. "What's the harm in trying again?"

"Exxxactly!" Her smile widened even more. "And you shouldn't give up taking down those fighting rings. Who knows what kind of Demon children are stuck in them? You're the only one giving any of them hope."

My mind started to wander. "Yeah...I guess so."

"We've got to keep in touch." Charlie pulled out her phone.

"Oh, I don't have one," I said nervously.

"Pfft, of course not," Vaggie sent a glare into Alastor's back, "Someone's still in the dark age."

"Yeah, well, Husker is the only one who's got a phone. And it's a pretty old one too."

"We'll connect through him then. I already have his number in my contacts."

"You already know him?"

The two of them laughed. "He and Alastor were a part of my hotel before it went under."

I nodded slowly. Alastor was in a heated discussion with Vox and Lucifer. They were all sending shots back and forth at each other, only Alastor remained in his seat while the other two were on their feet and pointing fingers.

"Maybe give it a break and meet another time?" Charlie quickly walked over. She put a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Charlie is right, per usual." Alastor half bowed his head to her.

"Of course she is," Lucifer crossed his arms. I didn't realize how short he was until Charlie stood next to him. She was my height and yet he was shorter than her shoulders.

"Come dear," Alastor said to me as he stood, "let us go home. This has been quite a productive meeting." It sounded more sarcastic than anything. Vox tried to say something but he was glitching all over. I was shocked I didn't see any smoke coming from his television head.

Charlie and Vaggie both waved as we left. I was close on Alastor's heels until we left the palace. I took the opportunity to look around at Hell. Everything was red but it looked like a normal city. The only give away was its inhuman inhabitants.

Alastor wrapped a hand around my shoulders as we teleported back to the house. I was shocked at the temperature difference. The night had been warm when we left but now the wind was like an icy chill that went right through my bones. Alastor walked ahead but I didn't follow.

"Alastor," I called. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I um...I'd like...I'd like you to teach me magic, again."

"Why's that?"

I wasn't expecting him to ask why. He's been pushing my training so much, why wouldn't he want me to accept it? I struggled for a response and he let the air hang silent for several moments.

"Because that's how I want the next hundred years to go," I finally said. It was true, to an extent, but I had other reasons for wanting it. Reasons I didn't want him to know.

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to detect the lie. He smiled wide so his yellow teeth showed. "A wise choice, my dear."

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

Author's Note:

Lots of dialogue and information but much needed! Looks like things are going to start turning around for us. Feel free to ask questions or leave any comments. I love interacting with you all!

[very-feral-lesbian]

this is a part two to this post, can be read solo but i recommend reading this first.

the party is in full swing. their friends surrounding them, most of them set up in the living from and a smaller more introverted group gathered in the dining room.

steve never knew what a good community could truly do for him as living in hawkins was clearly not a place where someone like steve could thrive.

he hid for so long, but here in boston its so different. they have this amazing group of friends, 90% of which are like him and eddie. and the other 10% support them endlessly.

he looks around and sees robin and nancy curled up on a chair in the corner, talking to their friend jasmine who is sitting on the floor, the two of them with wide smiles. because him and her have telepathy, robin looks over at him them. he throws her a quick wink.

he can hear david's laugh from the other room and can smell the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table that andrew brought.

he can feel the slight hint of eddie's bare skin between his jeans and his shirt where steve's hand it resting.

steve has friends. steve has a loving partner. steve is content.

steve also has his ex-best friend sitting on the other side of couch with whom he has not spoken yet.

they exchanged pleasantries, and him and eddie have chatted with michael plenty. michael was a handsome guy. probably late 20s/early 30s, dirty blonde hair with a middle part, and generic clothes aside from the round glasses on his face; steve could appreciate that. he wasn't steve's taste but he could tell he was an objectively attractive person.

he and tommy made an attractive couple, the two of them seemingly comfortable with each other. steve was happy for tommy, even though their friendship didn't end on good terms, he was glad tommy found himself.

steve must have been in his own head for a while as he just felt eddie poking him where he sat to his left, "babe? you okay?"

steve smiled, "yeah yeah im good," he leaned into kiss the juncture of eddies jaw.

"alright, good," eddie smiled back at him and batted his lashes, "would you be a doll and toss some of the beer bottles in the recycle?"

"yeap."

eddie smiled again, "love youuuuu."

steve started gathering the bottles on the coffee table, quickly finding that there were too many bottles for him to take at once. steve just shrugged it off and planned to make another trip back up to the apartment from the recycle bin until he heard a voice perk up, "here, i'll help."

it was tommy, he was picking up the remaining bottles.

"ok, uh- thanks."

steve and tommy walked out of the apartment making their way down the few flights of stairs into the alley with the recycle bin. it was quiet, neither of them even attempting to make small talk.

but being around eddie for the last decade has made him uncomfortable with silence, "so uh, how'd you meet michael?"

they walked side by side by side, opening and shutting the lid of the bin, disposing of the bottles, "we met in college, he was in my american archaeology class my junior year. we were friends for a while and started dating like three years ago."

steve nodded, "oh that's nice, he seems like a good guy."

there was a lull again. they walked up the stairs, and as they were making their way up the last flight tommy speaks up, "hey listen steve, i know its too little too late and it was over a decade ago, but i just wanted to say that i'm really sorry about all the shit i did while we were friends. i know it doesn't mean much but i was just not happy with myself so i uh- took it out on you and that was shitty so i'm, yeah i'm sorry."

they had stalled on the landing of the staircase right outside of his and eddie's apartment.

steve fully did not expect an apology from tommy. honestly he had mostly forgotten about him, he hadn't been back to hawkins in four years since wayne officially moved to rural new york.

he had heard from the grapevine that tommy was living down in texas but really he had no connection to him or that part of his life anymore. he never expected to speak to him again, let alone apologize for what happened.

steve clapped him on the shoulder, "it's all good man. not exactly like i was innocent either, i was a dick back then too. hell high school steve would flip if.." he gestured his head in the direction of their apartment.

they both understood what steve meant.

"yeah me neither, pretty sure high school me would beat up current me."

they both laughed, the air lighter than before.

there was a respite in the conversation before tommy piped back up, "you know its actually funny uhh, looking back I'm pretty sure i had a crush on you back then."

huh.

that might have been even more unexpected than the apology, "really? that's uhhhh, wow."

tommy laughed lightly, "yeah i think all that shit with billy our senior year really threw me for a loop and it was the first time i really started thinking about you know," steve does know, "and i uh- fucking hated myself for it so that's why i lashed out like that."

steve gets it and he says as much, "yeah i understand that. when i was first figuring my shit out, it was right when me and eddie became friends so i pushed him away at first. then you know, we kissed for the first time and i had this moment where i was like 'oh i don't hate him, im in love with him' and here we are eleven years later."

"yeah it's hard but i'm happy for you steve, you seem really happy."

steve glanced over at the door of their apartment, he can hear the faint noise of an electric guitar being played to the tune of iron man by black sabbath. pre-eddie, steve never would have believed he could recognize a single black sabbath song, let alone from outside of an apartment with the door muffling most of the intricacies of the song.

how could steve not be happy? he has more than he could have imagined at 31.

he lived within walking distance to his best friend in the entire world. he has a group of friends who are perfect and lovely. he lives in a beautiful city. he has a great job. and he's in a more-than-a-decades-long relationship with the love of his life.

"yeah, i really am."

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter Two

He didn’t know what to make of you.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Body Horror

Notes: Here's chapter two! This was a lot of fun to write! I hope you guys like the banter and interactions as much as I enjoyed writing them lol. I think our little monster Leon is so cute in this. Please leave a comment if you can! would love to know your thoughts!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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“Wow… that’s… good?” you told him, lying through your teeth, thinking about how you got yourself into this predicament.

Leon had ushered you down the winding path of the village outskirts, the two of you trying to maneuver around a pervasive awkward silence after your initial meeting.

When Leon wasn’t actively trying to intimidate you, he was reserved. Almost… shy?

To break the tension, you had asked if he invited all of his visitors home.

His reply?

“Just the pretty ones.”

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle before growing more serious.

“This is the first time in a decade I’ve actually talked to someone. Most people… run away before they start asking questions.” His eyes shifted over to you as he added, “As they should. You’re a special case, apparently.”

You scoffed. “You scare them away, though. On purpose. Not my fault I saw through it.”

“Well, it’s for their own good. And my peace of mind. You really managed to catch me off guard.” 

“It’s a skill few possess,” you replied with a teasing grin.

He clicked his tongue in response before leading you up to a house with large front double doors. “Home sweet home.”

You released your hold on his arm, watching as he opened them and swept his hand forward, offering to let you walk in first. 

What a gentlemonster, you joked to yourself.

You nodded and made your way inside, sliding your backpack off your shoulders and setting it down against the wall before taking in the decently sized space. It was pretty nice, though bare of decorations and a bit worn. Must be great not having to pay rent.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he told you, closing the doors.

Shutting out the day, you came to realize just how dark the place was. Even the windows did little to aid your sight, as the sun was beginning to set. 

“Uh, Leon?”

“Yeah?”

Those glowing red eyes were trained on you, even more pronounced in the shaded room. “Is there a light in this place? Or do you just… live like this?”

“Shit,” he hissed, breezing past you to a cabinet and pulling out an array of white candles and a box of matches, setting them on the dining table in front of you. “Yeah, I can kinda… see in the dark.”

He opened the small box and tried to carefully pluck a match from inside, struggling to gain purchase with his claws on the tiny wooden handle.

“Let me,” you offered, gently tugging out his hand and grabbing a match. “And night vision, huh? That sounds useful.”

He seemed genuinely shocked by the action, eyes widened slightly, before clearing his throat and taking a step back to let you strike the match and light the surrounding candles. “Uh, yeah. Guess so.”

Once the wicks were lit, covering the room in a soft yellow glow, you gave him a smile. “So, you were saying about dinner?”

“Right, I’ll get on that. Sit tight.”

That was an hour ago.

And now you sat with a plate in front of you, just finished with chewing a tentative forkful of the charred hunk of meat placed there.

You watched Leon eat his own in a couple bites, simultaneously uneased by the way his sharp teeth shredded the morsel to bits in mere seconds, and fascinated.

Leon pulled a face as he swallowed, sighing deeply. “No need to lie. That was awful.”

“Sorry. I really tried to like it,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Don’t be. I’m a little rusty in the kitchen. Been a long time since I’ve had company for dinner, you can imagine.” He shrugged. “And if I’m being honest, even as a human, I was never really good at cooking. Much harder with these.”

He held out his large hands, and you stared at the black claws that seemed to extend straight from his fingertips, their edges like daggers. Your gaze remained on them for a few moments before you rose it back to his face.

“I’m guessing you eat your meat raw, then?” 

His eyes flicked away from you and he seemed almost ashamed. “Yeah. I didn’t, at first. Tried to keep up with cooking. But I found it easier—and tastier—to eat it… fresh. I’m not human anymore and it’s not like it can make me sick. Nothing can, actually.”

“Ah. And how does one… find that out?” you knew the answer would unsettle you but asked him anyway. It must have been morbid curiosity that drove you.

He looked uncomfortable at your questioning, and you saw his tail swish almost irritably behind him on the stool he sat upon. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

You bit your lip, feeling guilty for your nosiness. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. But I won’t judge you for it.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You’d be smarter if you did. You just met me, after all. Who's to say I didn’t lure you here to eat you because I like to toy with my food?” 

“What are you, the big bad wolf?” you taunted, unconvinced. 

He leaned forward across the table, a long tongue sliding against his fangs as he stared you down, replying in a low voice that sent a shiver up your spine, “I could be. Don’t forget you can always start running, little rabbit.”

You swallowed, trying to keep the nerves that twisted in your gut at bay. “I reiterate, no one has gone missing here in ten years. You’re not munching on anybody.”

“No one who’s been reported. You’d be surprised how many drifters are in the world.” His claws were now splayed out on the wooden surface before you, digging into it.

You being you—a fool of the highest degree—you placed your hand over his, hoping he didn’t grab your arm and sink his teeth into it. “You’re not scaring me off, Leon. And we made a deal, remember? You owe me for being willing to keep my mouth shut.”

He appeared dazed as he focused on your palm pressed to his knuckles, letting out a breath as he pulled away.

“You’re stubborn.” There was a faraway look in his eye as he added, “Reminds me of someone I know… Knew.”

“Someone good, I hope?”

He grinned, the already stretched skin of his mouth somehow pulling further. “The best.”

There was a tension between you that you couldn’t name, just looking at each other, when a loud scratching noise from the front door startled you.

“What the hell is that?” you questioned lowly, your vision zeroing in on the concerning sound.

Leon stood, looking unbothered as he strode over to the door, explaining simply, “Just Wolfie.” 

You looked at him as if he lost his mind, standing from your chair and backing towards the corner of the room. “Wolfie?”

Before you could protest, he flung open the door and a flash of white fur came barreling into the house, black feathers flying through the air.

You yelped as it rushed straight to you, closing your eyes and bracing for an impact that never came.

You peeked down through your fingers and saw a large white wolf-dog sitting in front of you, its tail wagging as it offered you the thing in its mouth.

“Good boy, bringing me a crow,” Leon praised in a strangely cute voice coming from… whatever the hell he was. It made something in you flutter. 

He walked over to you, leaning forward to pull the dead bird from the dog’s mouth, holding it by its neck as he inspected it. “Now that’ll be a good midnight snack.”

The dog nuzzled your leg and you bent to pet him, trying to ignore the blood that stained his snout (and now your pants). You noticed the gray hairs that decorated his white fur.

Oh, you’re an old little man, you thought, ruffling the dog’s thick coat.   

Disregarding the implications of your observation, you decided to poke fun at Leon’s naming skills instead, saying, “Wolfie, huh? How original.”

Leon hung the bird on a rope by its feet in the kitchen, turning to face you with a roll of his crimson eyes. “Don’t start.”

You giggled and he seemed to smile at the sound before glancing at the table and grimacing.

“Sorry about dinner, by the way. That was the last of my meat, unless you want to eat the crow. I might let you cook it, though.”

“It’s okay, I brought plenty of food in my bag.”

“Still, I really suck at this whole host thing.”

“Not threatening to eat the guests would be a great start to fixing that,” you teased.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he replied sarcastically. 

Leon took your plate and placed it on the floor, letting “Wolfie” scarf down your uneaten meal. He stroked the dog on the head lovingly, and despite how odd it was to witness the arachnid-like creature interact with a household pet in such a way, it was somehow sweet.

“Livestock,” he said after a moment, still crouched before his canine friend.

“What?”

“How I found out I liked raw meat.”

“I see.” 

He glanced up at you, then, continuing, “The villagers had livestock. Cows, pigs, chickens. Most of them were killed when the town dogs were turned by the Plagas. After I cleared out the parasites, I planned on keeping a few of the farm animals around, for eggs and milk, you know?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried. But then I went a few days without eating, the wildlife in the area having fled during the chaos stirred up by the cult. There was nothing to hunt. Even the fish seemed to be hiding. I… I blacked out. Woke back up digging my claws into a half-eaten pig, surrounded by the bodies of the other dead livestock. I guess I—I guess I went into a hunger frenzy and slaughtered them all. Thank god I hadn’t found Wolfie at that point. I worry what would have happened if he were there.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, visibly stiffening up in horror.

He noticed your shift in demeanor and seemed to deflate, sighing miserably. “It hasn’t happened since. As long as I have something to eat every couple of days, I’m not a threat to you.”

Having witnessed him devour a chunk of venison just minutes prior, you relaxed marginally. “Still, a shame you wasted all that meat.”

He scrunched his nose before responding, “Actually… I didn’t waste it.”

“Wow, got quite the appetite, I take it?”

“Yes, but not that much.”

His evasive answers confused you. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I didn’t want to lose myself again after that, so what bodies were left, I skinned and chopped up, putting them in the icebox. But then I ran out of fuel and couldn’t use the generator to power the electricity anymore. The meat went rancid. I was going to throw it out, obviously, but I was getting hungry again and I just… ate it anyway.”

You made a disgusted face. “Yum. I guess if you can’t get sick, you wouldn’t have to worry about food poisoning. Bet it didn’t taste great, though.”

“It didn’t, but meat is meat. I could stomach it and it kept me from going feral again. Small price to pay.” He sniffed as he stood up. “You have every reason to be afraid of me. Disgusted. I know I am.”

He looked away from you, then, his tail and appendages drooping in obvious distress.

You took a shaky exhale and stepped toward him, grabbing his arm and turning him to face you again, the confusion at your willingness to be closer to him after that conversation clear in his red irises. 

“I’ll be honest, you make me nervous,” you admitted. “But you’re obviously trying your best to hang on to the more human side of you. And I’ve never met a living cryptid before, so I think I just need time to adjust. That’s all.”

“Could I even be considered a cryptid anymore if you know who and what I am now?” he questioned with a light chuckle.

“I guess not to me, personally. But to the rest of the world? Still a cryptid, I’m afraid.”

“I’d rather not be anything to the world. Except maybe a long-forgotten ghost. Would make my life easier that way.”

“Well, luck’s on your side, cos with how popular my paranormal blog is becoming, I might be able to convince people this place is a bust and they’ll hopefully lose interest in El Escorpion altogether,” you offered.

“You’d be willing to do that for me?”

“For the right price, of course,” you told him, a sly smile on your face.

He snorted. “Of course.”

Things seemed to ease after that, the two of you chatting well into the night once you chowed down on some of the food you packed yourself.

He divulged very little about his life before the transformation, opting to tell you funny stories of his antics in the wilderness instead. He asked you about your work and even after you warned him that once you started rambling it was hard for you to stop, he encouraged you to anyway, seeming to listen intently.

You managed to circle back to why you ended up there with him in the first place, asking him about his run-ins with the occasional visitor. After describing his side of the various encounters, you both got a kick at how dramatically the others told their version of events, and how his cryptid name came to pass.

“The Scorpion, huh?” he asked in amusement, glancing at his own tail and appendages. “Guess they’re not far off.”

Eventually, the candles started burning down and a yawn bubbled up in your throat as you explained controversies in the cryptozoology community, like how some scholars speculated that certain cryptids are actually just very old B.O.W.s.

“As interesting as this has been,” Leon started after you let out another aggressive yawn, “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“And I think I have to agree,” you said with a smile. “Where’re you putting me?” 

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” 

With that, he led you up the stairs, Wolfie hot on your heels. He took you to the door of the only bedroom in the building, opening it up to reveal a massive and very comfortable-looking canopy bed. 

You turned to Leon, confused. “There’s only one bed.”

He chuckled, plopping down on a blanket folded up on the floor next to his furry companion. “You take it. I’m good here.”

“You… sure?” you questioned tentatively.

“Positive.”

You nodded, smiling at him, and kicked off your shoes, climbing onto the mattress.

You watched him in shock as he fully retracted his appendages into his back.

He turned to catch you staring, eyebrows raised. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You cringed, feeling ashamed you got caught ogling him and his intriguing, monstrous form. “Sorry, just didn’t… expect that.”

“Never met a cryptid 'til now and you already have expectations?” he joked, leaning on an elbow to look up at you. His already too-short shirt rode up further and you blushed when you noticed his lean, muscular stomach become more exposed, looking away quickly.

“You know what I meant, you jerk,” you chided light-heartedly.

He laughed, the loudest and most genuine one he’d given to you since meeting him. The sound made you feel warm and you weren’t sure why.

“Get some rest, now,” he told you when his laughter subsided.

You stared at him for a moment longer after he turned away from you, curling up around his dog, before you replied, “Goodnight, Leon.” 

And with that, you leaned over to the bedside table and blew out the candle you had brought upstairs, darkness blanketing the room.

You stayed up for a while after that, mind going over the day, everything feeling so surreal from the moment you left the car just that afternoon. 

You could almost laugh to yourself as you drifted off to the sounds of Leon and Wolfie’s deep, even breaths echoing in the room, a soft wind blowing across the window.

Strange fuckin’ day.

+++

Leon was the first to rouse from slumber, unfurling himself from Wolfie and slowly sitting up. 

He was a little stiff from laying in the same position on the hard floor for so long, but otherwise, it had been a good night’s rest.

That was odd, he thought.

He rarely slept at all.

He heard a light snore and turned to find your still-unconscious form wrapped tightly up in his blankets, protecting yourself against the early autumn chill that crept through the room.

Silently, he stood, petting the white dog beside him that snorted in protest at his movements before making his way over to you.

Your hair was splayed out across the pillow, your eyelashes gently kissed your cheeks, and your round face seemed almost cherubic in the morning light that streamed in from the gap of the curtained window. 

Sleeping so peacefully with a monster mere feet from your vulnerable form.

He didn’t know what to make of you.

You had clearly been terrified the moment you saw him, and he could rationalize your initial inability to run as a freeze response, but you had heard a rustle in the foliage and got closer. You had seen glowing eyes and reached out. You had called him a liar when he told you he would eat you.

Did you have any sense of self-preservation?

Apparently not.

And then, despite your discomfort around him, you chatted with him like he was just another stranger passing on the street. And instead of ignoring his… differences… you commented on them. Asked about them as one would ask about the weather.

Well, you were a self-proclaimed paranormal investigator meeting a supposed cryptid, after all. It must have been a strange fascination that was causing you to be so curious instead of off-put.  

But what confused him the most was the fact you had touched him—gently and with ease—like you would a friend and not a literal monster threatening to kill you.

He looked down at his clenched knuckles, recalling the warmth of your palm as it rested upon the back of his hand. He thought about the way you smiled at him, how you bantered with him and teased him.

After so long by himself, he wanted to bask in this human connection he made despite knowing it was temporary. He prayed that after you left, it would tide him over until he was ready to say goodbye to this wretched existence for good.

He knew not to hope you would come back, or that he’d be lucky enough to meet someone else that would be as willing to talk to him instead of running for the hills. 

Besides, as under control as he felt now that he’d had a decade to maneuver in this new body, he wouldn’t want to risk hurting anyone. He had only ever lost control once and it haunted him ever since.

It was his worst fear if he was honest with himself. To lose his mind—his sentience—kept him up at night. Every day, he checked for signs that he might be mentally deteriorating, acting more beast than man. The longer he stayed away from other people, however, the harder it became to recognize what it was to be human in the first place.

All he knew was that he needed to end it before he ever reached that point, going from just threatening to eat trespassers, to ripping them limb from limb the moment he caught them. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of innocent blood on his hands after spending his whole life trying to protect it from being spilled at all.

You let out a sigh in your sleep and his gaze focused on you once more.

Despite how ridiculous you were to him, he was grateful to you for being so kind. Even as a human, he knew that was often hard to come across. And sure, he was technically paying you off to avoid attention, but that didn’t mean you had to be friendly towards him, especially after the ill-advised admittance of his eating habits.

He wondered how he would go about waking you, if he even should. 

Looked like he didn’t have to, though, when your eyes fluttered open and a scream left your lips as soon as you saw him.

He jumped back, holding up his hands in a gesture he hoped would dispel your fear. Wolfie leapt up, staggering with his old joints, before growling and searching for the possible threat in the room, oblivious to the fact it was Leon who frightened you.

It would almost be funny if you didn’t shift across the bed to get away from him. He could hear your heart thrumming behind your ribs like it had when you first met, and his own sank a bit.

He was still a monster, after all.

“It’s just me,” he said in a low, calming voice.

“Jesus, Leon, you scared the shit out of me!” you replied, pressing your hand to your chest. “Were you watching me sleep?!”

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to wake you up. I was trying to avoid scaring you, but that was a wasted effort.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, and he was pleased to hear your pulse rate begin to lower. “Maybe just call my name next time or something.”

He rose a brow at that.

Next time?

No, you must have misspoken.

Clearly unaware of how you vexed him, you moved to the edge of the bed and pulled on your shoes, stretching your arms as you finally stood up. “Well, c’mon, then. I’m starving.”

You pet Wolfie as you passed him by, the dog having calmed down from the excitement moments prior, before opening the door and strolling down the hall. 

Leon just stared after you, his mouth hanging ajar for a moment at your immediate change in demeanor. He still felt guilty that he had frightened you again, though this time completely by accident. It stung a bit, but he reminded himself that you should be afraid of a seven-foot-tall creature standing over you while you slept. 

He shook his head as if to clear it and followed you downstairs.

You had pulled out a cereal bar from your pack, munching away at it as you walked around the bottom floor of the house aimlessly. You turned to him as he made it into the dining room, swallowing a bite before speaking, “Don’t have much décor, I see.”

He shrugged. “There were pictures on the walls when I first settled in, but they were all of the people who died in the village and religious stuff. Felt weird to leave it up, so I put it all in the attic.”

“And you just didn’t bother to add anything else?” you teased.

“The only artwork I might consider using is in the old castle, but I didn’t think the hassle of getting it was worth it.” 

“Wait, there’s a castle and you chose to live here?” you questioned in disbelief.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Too big. Plus, it’s just easier to hunt on this side of the lake.”

“A man of simple pleasures. I can respect it,” you told him, nodding sagely before you approached an empty shelf. “I take it there isn’t much literature around here, either?”

“Not really. Mostly journals and religious texts. Not exactly my cup of tea.”

“Anything from the cult?” There was an intrigued glimmer in your eye and Leon wondered if he would ever get used to it.

“All of it, actually.” 

“Anything… interesting?” you asked, coming closer to him and clasping your hands together, the empty wrapper of your breakfast forgotten on the dining room table. He reminded himself to tell you to clean it up before you left.

“‘Deranged’ is probably more accurate,” he said with a scoff. “But if you’re really that curious, I can go grab one of them for you. Hope you can read Spanish.” 

Your eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store and he couldn’t help but find it endearing. “Yes, I can read a bit! I tried to learn as much as I could before this trip and I also brought a translation dictionary!”

“Be right back, then.”

He quickly fished Los Illuminados’ text from the attic, returning downstairs to find you brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink. When you traveled back into the dining room, he placed it in your awaiting hands, and you practically squealed as you opened the old, ornate book.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe, flipping through the pages. “And look at these illustrations! You mind if I keep this?”

“Be my guest. I have no need for it,” he replied, enjoying the way you pored over the text with visible excitement. You grabbed your translation dictionary from your pack and were about to get to work when Leon cleared his throat.

“Not to ruin your fun but don’t you have to leave soon?” 

Your expression shifted, then, from one of glee to what he could only guess was disappointment. Almost like you didn’t want to leave. There was a spark of something at that, but he didn’t let it ignite.

“Right. My ride should be here soon,” you told him after checking your phone. Despite your words, you didn’t move, and he wondered what you could possibly be thinking in that pretty head of yours.

When you finally dragged your feet to pack your bag, Leon remembered the items he promised you as payment for your silence concerning his existence. He excused himself before heading into the room beside the one you were standing in, reaching into a drawer and pulling out an old ring and a handful of jewels he had collected over the years.

“You forgot something,” he said to you, unfurling his clawed hand to reveal the precious items in his palm.

You grabbed the ring first, twisting it around as you appraised it. “It seems a little early for a proposal, don’t you think, Leon?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but could feel a faint heat tinge the tip of his now-pointed ears and what remained of his cheeks. “Yeah, you wish.”

You offered an impish smile before taking the gemstones as well and pocketing them. “Well, I do hope these are actually worth something and aren’t just cheap knock-offs.”

“Definitely real, I swear. Those things are antique.”

“They better be, or else I’ll have to come back here and kick your ass.”

He chuckled at the thought. “Easy there, tiger. I’m good on my word.”

You nodded and a quiet fell over the room.

“Well, guess it’s time to go,” you eventually muttered, grabbing your backpack and swinging it onto your shoulders before you headed to the door. You were slow to reach for the handle, seeming almost… reluctant. 

“Why don’t I… How about I walk you? Wouldn’t want you to get lost.” He didn’t know why he offered. If he was honest with himself, it was likely to prolong the last human interaction he’d probably ever have.

And he couldn’t deny he liked your company too.

You beamed at him as if that’s what you wanted him to say all along. “I’d like that, Leon.”

With Wolfie happily trotting behind the two of you, Leon led you into the early afternoon, the bright sun making him wince slightly, as it always did.

“You okay?” you questioned him. He shouldn’t have been surprised by your observation, already proving to him that very little got past you.

“Yeah, just… sensitive to the light, is all,” he replied with a squint of his eyes.

“Really? How come?”

He chuckled. Ever curious, weren’t you? “The Plagas are—were—damaged by light. Or the more exposed ones, I guess."

“Then how are you even handling being outside right now?”

“Not sure. Acclimated, I guess? I couldn’t go out during the day at all when I first turned. Then I just slowly spent more and more time in the sun. It’s… uncomfortable... but it doesn’t feel like I’m burning alive anymore.”

“Jesus,” was all you were apparently able to say, gripping your backpack straps.

You were both quiet for a few minutes, and he was thinking of ways to keep talking, not wanting to end the interaction in awkward silence.

“So I get you have a passion for the supernatural and all, but why come out here on your own? Don’t you have anyone who could come with you?”

You sighed. “My family and friends think I’m wasting my time. I’ve been on investigations with others like me, but I found I preferred to be alone.”

“Not even a boyfriend worried about you, huh?” He knew that was an unnecessary pry, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

“Not at the moment, no.”

He felt a strange sort of relief but refused to inspect it, instead pushing the conversation forward, “You must be some kind of adrenaline junkie, then, to be running around in the middle of nowhere, looking for monsters.”

“Maybe a little.” You shrugged. “You must be, too, considering you were a cop and an agent, right?”

“No, that’s different. I became a cop in order to help people, not that I was much good at it. And I was forced to be an agent to protect someone. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t deny the rush of doing something dangerous, but I never really looked for it. Was just forced to face it. I don’t really understand why you’d risk your life for a hobby.”

“I guess I just want to find the truth about things, no matter what it takes.” He sensed that maybe there was more to it than that as you looked away from him, instead focusing on the path ahead.

“Well, you’re lucky you haven’t gotten hurt yet. You have no idea if you’ll run into a B.O.W. or even just a wild animal that won’t hesitate to tear you to shreds,” he admonished.

“I guess I am lucky,” you agreed, nodding. “Lucky I found a big softie like you instead.” 

He rolled his eyes at that. “I don’t know if you recall, but I told you I would eat you at least twice yesterday.” 

“And yet you didn’t. Interesting.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, annoyed that you called him on his bluff. But then you looked up at him, radiant smile teasing and eyes bright.

He was surprised when the two of you were already at the lodge, past the village gate, so focused on you that he was mindless to anything else.

You moved to enter the building but halted when he did, turning to face him in confusion.

“This is as far as I go,” he explained, Wolfie sitting politely at his side. “Don’t want to startle whoever is here to get you.” 

“Right, makes sense.”

The two of you stood there silently for a few moments, and you seemed just as unwilling to say goodbye as he was.

“Well… guess I better go,” you finally told him, kicking the dirt with the tip of your shoe.

“Probably a good idea.”

“It’s honestly a shame I have to leave already.”

He raised a brow. “And why is that?”

“Because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you,” you replied softly.  

Leon was taken aback by that, something warm settling inside of him. To say he felt the same was an understatement. He didn’t voice it. In fact, he didn’t voice anything, at a loss.

To dispel the tension, you quickly and teasingly added, “And I didn’t get to explore this place nearly as much as I wanted to.”

“Well, there will always be other places.” He cringed at his own words and how stupid they were.

“There sure are.” You laughed, the sound melodic, and he was reminded of your singing. How your voice alerted him to your presence just yesterday afternoon. It felt like a lifetime since then, and simultaneously like a blink of an eye.

“It was nice to meet you, Leon.” You held out your hand to him, and he realized after a moment of staring at it you meant for him to shake it. It was a far cry from the day before, certainly. 

“You too,” he said, gingerly touching his palm against your own and shaking your hand carefully, enjoying the warmth of it against his always-cool skin.

You released him—far too soon, he felt—and his arm fell lamely at his side.

You pet Wolfie, scratching his ears affectionately as you said goodbye to the old dog, before focusing back on Leon.

You seemed almost somber as you told him earnestly, “I hope the rest of your life is kind to you.” 

He looked over your form, committing everything to memory. The color of your eyes, your round cheeks, your soft curves, the shape of your lips and how they framed your smile. 

The urge to caress your face was a shockingly difficult one to ignore.

With all his mental strength, he managed to refrain, saying instead, “Same for you.”

You nodded once, offering a final wave, and then you were through the door.

Leon stood there for a long time, hearing your footsteps getting more and more distant.

He stayed in place even as he heard you greet your ride.

He stayed until the car pulled away, the sound of it eventually fading completely.

All was quiet once more.

It felt suffocating.

Wolfie nudged Leon’s leg and finally, he moved, begrudgingly turning on his heels and heading back to the house.

He was lost in thought as he arrived, closing himself into the dark once more.

He grabbed the crow that Wolfie had caught the night before, planning on plucking it clean and sharing it with him, until he noticed a folded piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

Curious, he stopped in his tracks, picking it up and gently prying it open with his claws. Inside of it was a small, crude drawing of a rabbit, a short note scrawled underneath that read:

Something to remember me by~

Your lil bunny rabbit

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that left his mouth, echoing in the empty room.

After a moment, he set down the page, sighing deeply—warily.

Leon was alone again.

+++

The rest of your day had passed in a blur, barely able to hold a conversation with the local who picked you up from the village and took you to your hotel room. You paced for a long time once you arrived, eventually ordering takeout to abate your growling stomach but eating it without really tasting it.

Your mind could only focus on Leon.

Maybe you were crazy, but he seemed just as regretful to say goodbye as you had been.

He did say you were the only person he’d spoken to in ten years, so you didn’t want to let yourself hope that perhaps the connection with him you felt you made was genuine. He was just lonely, and you were still a stranger, after all.

You sighed, pulling the golden ring he gave you from your pocket as you sprawled across the bed, holding it up to the light to watch the ruby set into it shimmer. It reminded you of his eyes.

You groaned.

Your flight was tomorrow morning and now you had to make up some lie on your blog that was interesting enough to read without encouraging anyone to seek out the village themselves. 

Tall order.

You tried to focus on what you could potentially say, but all your thoughts led straight back to the strange creature you spent the night with.

He was lonely, yes. But so were you.

You glanced at the time on your phone, knowing you needed to sleep before your flight home.

And then an idea crossed your mind.

This trip was meant exclusively for business, not pleasure, and you realized you hadn’t been on a proper vacation in a long, long time. Your savings were in good shape, your rent was paid for the month, and you worked from home.

You held the ring in your hand, closing your fist around it, the gem decorating it digging into your palm just hard enough to sting.

It was set, you decided.

You were going to stay.

--------------------

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[dendroaspis-viridis]

Study Break

Emmrich has a bad habit of overworking, something Katareth is all too eager to help him break.

Rating: E (18+) (this is just smut, y'all)

AO3

It was technically a rest day for the Mourn Watchers, though they both insisted on waking up with everyone else to get an early start on their work. After seeing the others off, the couple migrated to Katareth’s study, finding it to be the quietest space in the Lighthouse. Manfred was organizing manuscripts in Emmrich’s den, and Gustav, Kat’s skeletal horse, was occupied exploring the grounds surrounding their base with Assan, leaving her cozy office empty.

The coffee table was covered in all manner of annotated books, hastily-scrawled notes, and a pot of tea that had long since cooled. They’d been collaborating on a paper regarding the Veil’s current instability and its effects on summoned spirits for several hours, evidenced by the cramp the qunari was massaging out of her neck.

Leaning back in her armchair, she looked over to her long-time coworker turned lover with a fond smirk. Their relationship was a relatively recent thing, only coming about a few months ago following a rather embarrassing incident for all involved (and a particularly meddlesome dwarf), but she found them to be some of the most fulfilling months of her life. They continued to maintain the friendship they’d cultivated for the past two decades, though now there was an added romantic zeal that Katareth found exhilarating.

She’d engaged in strictly physical encounters with people here and there to relieve stress, though her overwhelmingly timid nature had her ushering people out the door as soon as each of their needs had been met. Emmrich was her first real relationship since she’d joined the Mortalitasi, and the first one she’d ever had where she didn’t feel like the object of someone’s fetish. He’d been ceaselessly patient with her thus far as she navigated the novel waters of domesticity including communicating feelings, non-sexual intimacy, and the most foreign concept of all: sharing the same bed with someone after sex.

She watched as he sighed, rubbing his eyes as he collected his teacup.

Stifling a yawn, Kat suggested, “Why don’t we take a break? We’ve been at this since seven.” A glance to the clock on the wall informed her that it was well past midday – at least back in Thedas. Time seemed to pass differently in the Fade. “I think we’ve earned it?”

Taking a sip and grimacing at the unpleasant chill, he smoothed down his moustache as he returned the cup to its saucer, eyes scouring the table for a specific scrap of parchment. “Mmm, I don’t know… We’ve barely touched on the spirits’ increasingly volatile behaviors.”

As much as Kat loved him, the necromancer had a self-destructive habit of eschewing basic care like food or rest when he was focused on a project, something she’d been gently trying to help him break over the years.

A devilish thought popped into Katareth’s head. Oh. That might work…

Mulling it over as her partner found the paper he’d been searching for and read it for what must’ve been the fifteenth time that morning, she rose to put her idea into action.

“Then let me convince you.” Kat stepped around the table, stopping at Emmrich’s knees before crawling onto his lap, straddling his thighs, and perching her hands on the back of the loveseat behind him, effectively trapping the human under her. With his view of their workspace now obstructed, Emmrich had no choice but to look up, meeting her salacious gaze.

He gave a surprised little “Oh!” when she seated herself, followed by a lower “Oh…” when he understood the explicit nature of her suggestion. A conspiratorial grin deepened the creases that framed his face.

Setting the parchment aside, he ran his hands along her thighs before untucking her shirt. Katareth jolted slightly when she felt cold fingers graze along the small of her back, circling the little dimples that sat just under her belt. The reaper crowded him further by leaning down to pepper his face with kisses. His cheeks, his jawline, his temples, everywhere except where Emmrich wanted her most.

Giving her hips a gentle grind, Kat purred into his ear when she felt his muscles tense under her and carefully-manicured nails dug into her waist, “Now, consider us in much the same position on my bed. No distractions, no clothes. Just the two of us... what do you think?”

He took a steadying breath before responding, “Truth be told, I’m finding thinking quite difficult right now.” The measured grind of her hips over his stirring member combined with the delicate licks and kisses she was placing just under his ear left his mind with little room to consider her proposal. “Though I concede that a break would be nice…”

Pulling back to meet him with a smolder, she teased, “I’m glad you could see reason.”

Kat dismounted, extending a hand to help pull him up into an embrace. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and high-collared shirt, shucking both and draping them across the back of the loveseat. He mirrored her actions, slipping the buttons of her tailored blouse through eyelets and unlacing her brassiere. The qunari took Emmrich’s hands in hers, pulling the smaller Watcher towards the doorframe of her bedroom with a wink.

The pair made it just inside the doorway when Katareth pinned the necromancer to the wall, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

It was an absolute cacophony of sensations for Emmrich. The cool brick scratching against his back was in direct opposition to his lover’s plush, warm breasts pressing against his chest. And while they exchanged panted breaths, Katareth lifted him, guiding his legs to wrap around her waist. From his new vantage point, Emmrich could only watch as Kat leaned in to ravage the elegant column of his neck.

Taking his Adam’s apple between her teeth, sharp canines scraped across the delicate skin, leaving red streaks in their wake. Katareth reveled in the throaty moan of her name she felt rumble up through his neck, littering it with more nips and sucks.

Delicate hands came up behind her to fumble with the leather strip holding her hair in a loose bun. Untying it and discarding the leather at her feet, Emmrich ran his fingers through her snowy hair before taking a handful in a gentle fist, guiding her lips back up to his.

With their mouths occupied, Kat tightened her grip on his thighs to carry him over to her bed, setting the elder Watcher down gently on evergreen sheets before removing the rest of her clothes, prompting him to do the same.

Now fully nude, she ushered Emmrich towards the center of her bed. “Scoot back, I’ll need some room.”

When he complied, Katareth began her ascent, crawling up him like a predator on the prowl, and he was her all too willing prey. She stopped at his thighs, folding her legs under her so her pelvis rested just past his knees, gold eyes on his still semi-flaccid penis.

“S-Sorry, I- ah!” His attempted apology was cut off when she wrapped her warm hands around his cock. Kat held the pliant shaft in one hand, and eased his foreskin back with the other to thumb a shimmery bead of precum across his flushed head.

“Do I look like I mind?” She husked, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. She slowly flicked her wrist, smirking at the full body shudder that worked through him as she swallowed down his whine.

One of his hands grasped onto a grey thigh, the other cupping the back of Katareth’s head to hold her there, playing with the wispy hairs at her nape. His eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the sensation of her calloused hands gliding up and down, twisting along his cock.

The qunari adjusted her grip on his stiffening member, interlacing her fingers to rub the battle-roughened pads of her thumbs along the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under his glans.

She worked him in earnest, enthralled in feeling the way his length slowly began to swell under her thorough touch.

“Please, Katareth... I want to feel you around me,” Emmrich panted, resting his forehead against hers.

“I am around you,” She reminded him coquettishly, tightening her grip on his stiff erection to emphasize her point.

“Maker,” he gasped. “You know what I mean... Your – your core – your heat…  don't make me be crass, please,” the necromancer begged, finally opening his eyes to look directly at her. He could be so sensual and articulate when he was taking the lead, but was endearingly bashful when it came to engaging in any kind of dirty talk.

Showing her lover mercy, she gave his length one last stroke before maneuvering herself to straddle his narrow pelvis. Pressing his shoulders, Kat followed his descent to drape herself over him, supporting the majority of her weight on a muscular forearm above his head.

“Ready?” Her free hand took hold of his cock, lining it up with her entrance.

“Yes, please…” Long fingers dug into the soft meat of the reaper's hips, encouraging her down.

Needing no further coaxing, Katareth eased herself down, sighing as his erection parted her glistening folds. Their collective groans of pleasure echoed off the stone walls of her bedroom when she fully sheathed him in her warmth, wiggling her hips slightly to better accommodate him.

“Kadan...” she whispered, cradling his face in a large hand and brushing her thumb along his cheek. When she gently rocked, Kat dipped her tongue between Emmrich's lips, savoring the faint flavor of tea.

Their lovemaking began tenderly, both Mourn Watchers leisurely tasting and touching each other, accented by the delicious squeeze of the qunari's velvety heat around her human lover on a lazy upstroke.

She hummed into his mouth when cool fingers ghosted along a pointed ear, running soft fingertips along the outer edge where it was most sensitive. When the necromancer pinched at the sharp tip, he wasn’t prepared for the surprised clenching of her core, meeting her hum with a gasp.

His other hand trailed up from her hips, feeling her pace pick up ever so slightly when he scratched across the well-muscled planes of her back from waist to nape. He repeated the motion several times, matching the timing of his reaper's thrusts and steadily working her up into a fervor under his ministrations.

Katareth pressed her body into him more firmly, the added stimulation of her pierced nipples dragging against his angular body drawing occasional sighs. She loved the intimacy of it all. Loved knowing the panted exhalations of her name were for her ears only, and that the thrusts and jerks Emmrich was fucking up into her greedy core were for their mutual ecstasy.

The hand that'd been stroking his face gripped at the bedsheets as her thrusts grew more vigorous, caging Emmrich under the larger Watcher. The soft tap tap tap of the headboard against the wall was easily drowned out by the pair’s blissful cries and the wet slap of Kat's hips coming down to meet Emmrich's as she picked up momentum.

Adjusting the angle of her hips, Kat wailed a stuttered ‘E-Emmrich!’ into the side of his neck when his erection stroked against a sweet spot. She lost herself to the exquisite drag of his cock within her sensitive core, her hot breaths puffing across his shoulder. The intensity of her thrusts increased still, and some barely-functioning corner of Emmrich's mind noted that the taps from before had grown to solid thumps with each snap of her hips.

“Em, I'm close – fuck, I’m so close…” she panted into his ear. Her rocking lost its rhythm, devolving into stuttered lurches as she neared her peak. The fevered pitch of her shuddered breaths rose as she nosed along his pulse point.

“So – hah – so am I,” Emmrich struggled to for coherent words, basking in the absolutely decadent grind of her plush walls around his throbbing cock. “Just a little more – just like that!” He encouraged, grabbing at her hips to help push and pull her along himself.

Grinding her clit down into his pubic bone was the last little bit of stimulation she needed, tumbling over the edge with a long, keening whine as she bit down into the taut muscle that connected his neck to shoulder, rocking her hips to draw out her euphoria.

Emmrich soon followed with a deep, guttural groan, unable to hold back when the powerful muscles of her core squeeze and pulse around his cock. Feeling the rush of his orgasm paint her inner walls, Katareth released his neck, capturing his lips in a frantic, sloppy kiss, riding him through the aftershocks.

As their ecstasy abated, Katareth’s hips eventually stilled. Catching her breath, she rolled off the human with a groan, stretching her legs and easing them to a more neutral position before turning to Emmrich. She ran her blunt nails through the grey, wiry hairs of his chest, watching it rise and fall as he, too, came down from his high.

“If this is your new method for getting me to take more breaks, I may have to start pulling all-nighters again…” he huffed breathlessly, meeting her exhausted gaze.

“Don’t you dare, Emmrich Volkarin.” She pressed a chaste kiss into his cheek, taunting, “I might not be so nice, next time…”

He brought a hand to his neck, gently prodding at the tender bruises she’d bit and sucked into him, giving her a playfully incredulous look. “Heart, if this was ‘nice’, I’m not entirely sure I’d survive ‘mean’ with my throat intact.”

“I can’t help that your neck’s just so biteable, now, can I?” The qunari defended bashfully. “Besides, you always wear those high-collared shirts, so it’s not as if anyone would see...”

Rolling to lay his head on her shoulder, Emmrich quietly laughed as he replied, “Thank the Maker for small mercies, I suppose…”

[officialleehadan]

On Embassy Grounds

Hello darlings! today's story was brought to you by SLK! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: On Both Sides, with the Old Powers coming in.

+++

It had been a long time since the last gathering of Old Powers. So long, in fact, that Andrei wasn’t one of them himself. He was an active Power, but he came in at the request of his old mentor, Boris, better known back then as Cannonfire. He was a metal-based Power like Andre, and one of the few back then who could teach Andrei the ropes.

Boris was dead, taken by cancer some years back. Andrei wished he was still around. He missed his old mentor, and he would have been glad to have the man at his back.

No use wishing for what he couldn’t have.

The room was arranged by Vengeance, who kept an embassy handy in the city he once terrorized. It was, Andrei suspected, largely a matter of amused spite. Vengeance was easily entertained by upsetting the people who would love to do something about him, and who couldn’t touch him without starting an international incident. There wasn’t a country in the world that would stay quiet about another world leader being grabbed on embassy grounds, no matter who that person was.

His embassy, however, also boasted a large, neutral space for them to get together for a discussion about what was going on in their community.

“Ven, it’s good to see you again,” Andrei greeted Vengeance with a firm handshake and a clap on the shoulder. Vengeance was a very tall man who boasted a healthy tan from his small, tropical country in South America. It didn’t hurt that he was from South America himself, and embraced the land of his family whole-heartedly. His hair was longer than it had been the last time Andrei saw him, and he boasted both a very fine suit, and a very fine beard. “Thanks for coming so far.”

“I told you, if you ever needed help, to call me,” Vengeance told him seriously, and shook Belle’s hand next. She knew him, of course. He had hosted them for a vacation two years back, and Belle was close friends with his wife, Elena. “From your call, I should have come sooner.”

“We needed cause,” Andrei assured him in return and followed his friend into the wide meeting room, where the rest of their motley crew, villains, heroes, and civilians, were all gathered. It wasn’t a big enough room to need a microphone, so Andre didn’t bother with the podium that dominated one side of the room. “Hey, quiet down you lot! Is everyone here?”

“We have a couple more flying in tonight, but we’ll fill them in later,” Remedy spoke up from her chair. She was heading up the Hero side of the room. There were a lot of old enemies in the room, but everyone who answered the call knew there were more important things than their rivalries. Vengeance sat across from Remedy, heading up the Villains side as one of the oldest, but also one of the most powerful of the Powers in the room. If one of the villains caused a problem, he would handle it. “Go ahead and get the party started.”

“Right,” Andrei said and looked around the room. He knew most of the people in the room. Had fought some, and fought alongside others. Some were enemies of his and had killed friends and allies. He could let all of that go under the current threat. “Most of us were too young for the last meeting of thee Old Powers, and I’m glad for that. It means we haven’t had to deal with a problem like this in a long time. Thank you all for coming.”

“When someone puts out the call, we come,” Ruinous said from Vengeance’s right hand. His Power was terrakinesis, and he made a true danger of himself in California some decades ago. After Vengeance, he was the oldest villain at the table, and retired after losing both his legs to a freak car accident. Andrei called him personally, in case they needed to crack a prison. Between his own power over metal and Ruin’s stone-shaping, there wasn’t a building in the world they couldn’t rip apart. “What’s the problem, Evensteel? Takes a big problem to get everyone involved like this.”

“Junior Powers are being kidnapped,” Andrei said grimly and was darkly pleased when the murmurs around the table silenced into a hard, angry silence. “I don’t have a full list of names, but the most recent is my apprentice, Jackhammer. Brickmaker was there for his kidnapping. I was occupied with Vapor.”

“Someone jumped me from behind and hit Jackhammer at the same time,” Brickmaker said. He, of course, was present because he was furious at the attack, and about ready to level a city if it came to that. Between him and Ruinous, they had the stone-shaping completely covered. Andrei was glad to have them both. “I was awake about long enough to see him bundled up. Don’t know who got him but they were fast, and they were professional.”

“Dreamsurge has admitted to, and previously attempted to, take Jackhammer from me,” Andrei told the collected Powers, who were muttering again, but now in a decidedly hostile way. “I assume she is involved, and so is whoever she’s working for. That’s the first step. Who is running this, and how many of our kids have they grabbed? Reach out. Friends, allies, informants. We need to find them before we can get them back.”

“I’ve already started reaching out through my government’s information network,” Vengeance said, and traded nods with a few of the other Powers, who worked with various governments. “I’m happy to make this an official inquiry with the United Nations as well if we need to escalate.”

“I’ll back you,” Peace Lily said from across the table. She was a healer like Remedy, and worked with the United Nations, arranging aid missions. If there was anyone who could get the world’s eyes on the Powered Coalition, it would be them. “We all have informants. No one leaves the community without making sure we have eyes and ears to keep us posted. But Evensteel, what will you be doing while we lead the search?”

“I’m going to be the target that keeps them distracted,” Andrei said, and allowed himself a smile that made the Powers who knew him shiver in sudden alarm. Most of the Powers around the table were old enough to remember the last time he taught a lesson. Two of them, Monstertruck and Wildgrowth, both retired rather than keep fighting Andrei after that. He traded nods with them. Their enmity was long over and he was glad they answered the call.  “It’s been a while since I let everyone see what I’m capable of. If anyone here has friends in the Coalition HQ, it’s time to get them out. When I’m done, it’s going to be a pile of rubble and I’m going to be damn sure our kids aren’t hidden under our noses.”

+++

On Both Sides: (FULL COLLECTION)

Sanctuary Order

Home Safe Home (Subscriber Only!)

Sanctuary Enforced (Subscriber Only!)

Truth Truth Lie

New Hero (Subscriber Only!)

Rescue Team

Building Structure

Kidnapping Babies (Subscriber Only!)

Tag Teamwork (Subscriber Only!)

Light Saved (Subscriber Only!)

Call the Uncles (Subscriber Only!)

Metal Web Warnings (Subscriber Only!)

Useful Destruction

Old Enemy Returned (Subscriber Only!)

Metal Fight

To The Death

Recovery Time 

Phone Tree Awakened (NEW!)

On Embassy Grounds (NEW!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[tetsunabouquet]

Thank you for writing the fic about Vancha I requested! Was soooo cute! I wonder if you would be interested in doing more? Like a backstory to how they met or early interactions between Vancha and reader?

No worries if not, I really enjoyed it anyway. Thank you again! ❤️

A/N: Usually, I never write a two shot, but because I seem to be the only one writing Vanchha on this site, I am making an exception and will be writing a prequel! I am happy to provide as we all deserve it.

A couple of weeks later, it was your turn to tell a bedtime story, and Eleri knew exactly which one she wanted you to tell. As you and Vancha sat next to her on her bed, she cast her sweet large eyes at you. "How did you and daddy meet?" She asked, and Vancha chuckled. You smiled warmly, as you slowly walked down your own memory lane and started speaking.

It was several decades ago, and you had finally outgrown your fledgling state. You had decided it was time for a celebration, but you couldn't come up with a way to celebrate. Hopping into a bar wasn't your thing, even though a little spiked blood was definitely something you could use. So you were pretty much circling around the nearest town to the vampire mountain, wondering if you should stay or if you should just flit back to the rest of your kind. You decided to clear your restless head in the forest and walked into the sea of trees. As you allowed them to swallow you from everyone's sight, a sense of ease washed over you. The forest was even more silent at night, with just the sound of owls in the distance. You enjoyed the smell of the fresh green, letting it penetrate your nose. It wasn't long before you reached the river and you took off your shoes. Sitting down, you let your feet sink into the water. You shivered a little, but it felt good. It was peaceful and quiet, until you heard a splashing sound further down the river. Always having been a curious kind of person, you decided to investigate. You wondered if it could be a bear on the hunt, but didn't that happen during the day? As you got closer, you noticed whilst there was someone hunting fish, they very clearly weren't a bear. It was a person and one you vaguely recognized from having visited the mountain a week earlier. It was Prince Vancha, battling what looked to be a very big trout. His muscles glittered in the moonlight, his wet green hair might as well have been black and was sticking to his face. You duck out of the way just in time as Vancha threw the trout on the grass, the wounded fish desperately flopping on the ground. Vancha took you in as he hoisted himself out of the river. "That was a good catch, my Prince." You said with a bow. Vancha started laughing. "There is no need for the formalities, sweetheart. Though it is a big one indeed." Your face got a little red at the endearment as he was far more attractive up close then you had previously thought. Because you hadn't eaten yet, your stomach could not help but growl as Vancha picked the trout from the ground. He grinned as he heard it. "I think this meal is big enough for the both of us. How about we share?" You blinked in surprise, not having expected the rough looking prince to be friendly whatsoever. But the playful flirtatious look in his eyes was beckoning you, and honestly you could use the offer indeed. "I think I am taking you up on that offer. I'm y/n, " you said as he gestured for you to follow him. "Let's go to my cabin, it would be rude not to offer a lady a seat when she is eating." You smiled in response, thinking your night was only getting better. It wasn't long before you reached a cabin and as you entered you noticed it was almost primitive with how little traces of modern luxuries were to be found. Vancha quickly placed the trout on the table and reached for a knife. Quickly, he started chopping the fish into pieces as you took a seat on a treetrunk that had been neatly cut off to function as a seat. It didn't took him long to finish and you were surprised with how clean and perfectly thin the slices looked. "Does the lady want a fishstick?," he asked with a grin and you laughed both in the past and present as you recalled that moment. Let's just say, you were enaromered right away.

[themculibrary]

Jimmy Woo Masterlist

A Damn Good Team (ao3) - Enigmaforum T, 1k

Summary: They weren’t the Avengers but they were a damn good team all the same.

They could do this. They would do this.

First meet contact. Second save Darcy.

Beyond Our Control (ao3) - cluelessrebel1988 T, 2k

Summary: An extended scene with Monica and Jimmy during and after the events at the end of WandaVision episode 6

Breaking All The Rules (ao3) - DGCatAniSiri scott/jimmy G, 1k

Summary: Jimmy is in Scott Lang's bed. That's really not how this is supposed to work.

choreography (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 9k

Summary: The alpha stood carefully by the biggest window in Scott’s house, keeping his hands to himself. Fate had just decided to fuck with Scott in a major way and the only comfort Scott could take from the mess was that Agent Jimmy Woo looked as freaked out as Scott was. Of course the first perfectly compatible alpha Scott had ever met in nearly five decades of his life on earth would be his goddamned case officer.

first date (ao3) - ChookTingle scott/jimmy M, 2k

Summary: Scott finally asks Jimmy out then turns up late for their first date. This doesn't end even half as badly as he expected.

First Move (ao3) - calatoria darcy/jimmy T, 3k

Summary: Post-Hex, Darcy and Jimmy keep dancing around each other. Who makes the first move?

Green Tea Panna Cotta with Cookie Crumble and Brûléed Plums (ao3) - derevko_child phil/melinda G, 3k

Summary: They both smell like they just came out of a coffee shop but Coulson smells like coffee and May smells like tea, and if twenty years ago, someone tells him that one day, he’ll be sitting in between the two of them, eating Chinese takeout for dinner, knees touching, watching tv and bantering like old friends, he’d probably think they’re crazy

Agent Jimmy Woo gets a surprise visit from old friends.

Hints (ao3) - amitiel, RikuKingdomHearts3 darcy/jimmy G, 1k

Summary: Darcy realizes that she has a crush on Jimmy so she figures that she'll drop some hints and get them talking about it so she can properly tell him. After all, no one can be THAT dense... right?

Normal People (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 43k

Summary: “Dating is a security risk,” Phil said. He patted Jimmy companionably on the shoulder as he said it.

Jimmy pointedly shrugged off Phil’s hand. “Seriously? Is this really the time?”

Phil shaded his eyes against the sun. They were both wrapped heavily in parkas, knee-deep in snow a couple of miles out from Mt. Lussari village. Nothing but brilliant blue sky, mountains, and the wreckage of a military plane with all the bodies suspiciously missing. “It’s always a good time. Especially if you insist on using unsecured apps.”

Only in a Sitcom (ao3) - ForASecondThereWedWon darcy/jimmy T, 26k

Summary: Darcy has no idea what the hell's going on with this WandaVision thing, but neither does Jimmy. It's kinda fun to have somebody to binge-watch alternate reality TV with.

Initiative (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 6k

Summary: “Hello again,” Scott said, as cheerfully as he could.

Standing by the holographic deck in the middle of the shiny new Situation Room in the shiny new HQ for ATLAS, Jimmy stared at Scott. “Did you need something else, Mister Lang?”

Scott winced. The past year since the Ghost Incident hadn’t changed Agent Jimmy Woo much. Same wary expression, as though Scott was going to cart off the TV if Jimmy turned his back. Jimmy was still looked perfectly folded into his black suit with the neat tie, his collar pressed to sharp edges. “No uh. Just want to say. I’m happy to be here?”

jurisdiction (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 5k

Summary: “Let’s say that I met someone kinda cute,” Scott said as he and Luis sat down for tacos in Taqueria El Farolito, hunched over their burritos against the bright yellow and orange wall. “But we didn’t meet in the best of circumstances, and they probably hate me. How would I fix things?”

never the wrong card (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 4k

Summary: Scott peeked in. He was a little late thanks to traffic. On a quick sweep of the place, he thought for a moment that whoever he was meeting was also late. Or had stood Scott up. No such luck. In the corner of the restaurant, checking his phone, was a guy in a suit with a white tulip pinned to his lapel.

Huh. Scott felt a little embarrassed for snipping a wildflower off the sidewalk now, but he’d genuinely forgotten about the flower thing until he was on his way. He sidled over to the table and sat down. “Paxton’s friend?” Scott asked, then added awkwardly, “er, hi.”

superheroes (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 7k

Summary: “Just gimme the chicken soup,” Scott said, once Agent Woo ran out of breath.

Woo blinked and handed over the plastic soup container. It was lukewarm to the touch and smelled rich and oily and herby in a way Scott didn’t recognise. Strange wrinkly red raisin-like things floated on the surface among odd white shards, and the chicken was a weird charcoal colour through the clear plastic lid. “Err. Is this really chicken soup?” Scott asked, trying his best not to sound suspicious and failing.

“It’s obviously chicken soup,” Woo said, a little defensively.

the mistimed bing (ao3) - Siria scott/jimmy T, 3k

Summary: “Oh, whoa, okay, wait, hold up.” Scott came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, clutching his bag of tacos to his chest. “I think he actually was asking me out.”

Wooing Bruce (ao3) - Blizzard_Fire jimmy/bruce T, 2k

Summary: Jimmy performs card tricks to calm Hulk down. In the year that follows, he and Bruce get to know each other.

[jimin-my-sunshine]

Its a real question and not a shade but how do you know you're Jimin twin flame ? I wonder what it feels like ?

To answer this question honestly- I would have to say that it's very simple, but also quite confusing.

I have been on this journey for close to a decade now, and things still don't make sense a lot of times for me 😅

It's a very spiritual connection, but it's also very physical and it affects you as a whole.

I apologize in advance, but this will be quite long, since it's not something that can be answered in a very short reply.

Not if you wish to try and understand ♡

°

I suppose you can say it started around the time I was just a little girl, so I've been on this journey for decades- but I found out it had a name eight years ago.

I don't know what triggers it and the journey itself starts out the same for everyone, but eventually you take your own path that is very personal to you.

Regardless of what anyone tries to tell you in the twin flame community- no other person can tell you how things need to go.

You are the only one who can speak on your journey and that's what makes it tricky, because you lack the guidance that you need in the beginning.

I went through it myself and there were so many people trying to project their own beliefs onto me...

None of it spoke to me and their beliefs just felt off to me. Not wrong, because it was their own beliefs- but it just didn't fit with me and my own personal experiences and that's okay.

Individuality is SO important and I can't stress this enough, because if you listen to other's- you will never have your own growth.

I learned this the hard way, so I try to tell everyone this ❤

°

I had a very difficult life growing up and my family was very broken from the beginning.

Things transpired when I was very, very young and it left a permanent scar on me, before I really had the proper development as a child and my mind was wired very differently than the average person- due to the mark that the trauma left behind.

Often times, I would wonder why I was even born and my life got very dark, full of 'demons' that just wouldn't give me any peace of mine.

Until I was six years old, and that was the time I had this deep knowing inside of me, that I would meet someone who was just like me and we would be together.

I never thought of it as romantic, because I felt more like it was just love as a general term.

It gave my little heart the strength it needed to continue moving forward and it quieted the 'demons' in my mind.

It became my driving force and the only reason I was living, since nothing else made sense to me and I had these terribly heavy burdens that I was carrying around.

°

Fast forward a couple of decades, and I was starting to have these dreams. Meeting someone- who was rather vague when I woke up and I couldn't remember their appearance.

They were a stranger, but yet they didn't feel like that at all and in these dreams where they would visit me- it was very mundane, but they meant everything to me.

Why?

Even though we just sat in this small area and enjoyed each other's company- there were never any words spoken, but it didn't feel silent if that makes sense.

It felt like there was a lot being said, even though we weren't even speaking.

Being around this person brought me bliss and pure serenity.

The darkness that had started to resurface after several years- fell silent in their presence and my mind quieted down.

I felt a kind of peace I had never known before and the raging storm inside of me fell totally calm.

°

This may not seem like a big deal to other people who read this, but that's only because you haven't lived my life.

Afrer the trauma as a child, I was left with a horrible digestive condition and I was very sick as a child. Not to mention, the severe and very debilitating anxiety condition that never let up. I wasn't given the therapy that I needed for a long enough time, so I was never given the chance to heal properly.

I couldn't be around people and they terrified me, to the point that everyone was a threat.

I would isolate myself, because I couldn't bear to be around other's- but at the same time, I preferred the quiet of my own company.

After the time I found out I had another 'me' out there, I never felt alone and I knew I was protected- but I didn't have an explanation for it.

I just never felt alone, because I always felt like there was someone else with me.

(I need to mention here that I grew up in a very strict religion, so I wasn't given the permission to have my own beliefs. It wasn't until much later in my life, I found out that I could have my own beliefs. That's how conditioned I was from their manipulation.)

°

Kpop had always been a part of my life, since high school I think and I was obsessed with a few groups- but mostly the girl groups and there was a few boy groups I liked too.

With BTS it was difficult, because I never had anything against the guys- but their popularity was a huge turn off for me.

They're all anyone ever talked about and it frustrated me, because other groups needed to be noticed as well.

So I tried to avoid BTS- but that's the thing I've noticed with this journey lol

The more you try to avoid it, the more it pops up and it won't leave you alone until you stop and just pay attention.

°

I wanted to see what the big deal was, so I watched a couple of their music videos on YouTube- ('Save me' & 'I need U') and Jimin was the first one that just seemed to jump out at me.

I didn't know why and I just thought it was a crush or something- but I knew right away it just meant he was different.

I never had crushes on real people. I was heavily into anime at the time and those are the guys I always felt 'attracted' to.

I wondered what made him different and so that's when it all began in a manner of speaking- but I didn't put two and two together for a few months.

It wasn't until he did something-like a certain behavior or mannerism? Its hard to explain in words...

But it just happened out of the blue and I realized he was the one visiting me in my dreams.

I think it's because of his voice. When he spoke, or sang in music- I realized that I felt calm and my mind felt quiet.

Which is what happened with that person who continued to visit me.

No one has ever been able to quiet the hurricane that has been raging inside of me, since I was a little girl and that's when I knew he was something.

I found the term soul mate that stood out to me, but it didn't fit the 'criteria' of what I was experiencing- so I furthered my research and came across twin flames.

°

I'll end it here, because I don't want this to be too long- but please feel free to send me another 'ask' if you wish to and I can answer anything else you may be curious about :)

Please tell me that it's you though, because I've been having a lot of hate in my 'asks' section and I want to make sure I don't block you by accident ♡

[neondiamond]

🍦Recently Read Fics - July 2022🍦

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 💗

🍦 Firebird by @wabadabadaba (1k, G)

Niall is helping Liam practice before his training camp and she gets exciting news about an acclaimed position she interviewed for.

🍦 Strange Blue Water by @louistomlionson (2k, M)

Harry drives home just in time to see the sun.

Or: A Cowboy AU.

🍦 Crowd Work by @littleroverlouis (2k, T)

Harry is a stand up comedian that likes to interact with his audience.

Although tonight, someone turns the tables and roasts him.

🍦 Zoey by @wabadabadaba (2k, G)

Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.

🍦 brown skin and lemon over ice by @penceypansy (2k, NR)

A short one shot of a reunion in Italy, around the time Harry filmed the Golden video.

🍦 Sheer Pride by @louistomlionson (4k, T)

“Wait-” Louis says suddenly, turning around after taking a couple of small steps forward. “It’s just, wow, you’re at Pride with a baby… who’s missing a shoe, by the way.”

“Oh, shit,” the stranger replies, but covers the infant's ears too late. It makes Louis laugh for the first time in a while.

Or: A Pride AU where Louis finally moves out.

🍦 Somethin’ Old and Red by @absoloutenonsense (5k, NR)

There was a ritual with these things. He’d pour a splash into a wine glass —his favourite little joke was telling humans he loved a nice glass of red every now and again— then sat down in his living room and listened to music while he drank.

Every time he changed the record —or, what was it they called them nowadays? 8tracks? MP3s? Playlists? It was difficult for Harry to keep up with the technology, especially as much as things had changed over the last few decades— he would change the music before refilling the glass. He liked to savour his meals. He could get at least two evenings out of a bag that way, which worked very well for Harry’s schedule.

His wine glass was in front of him on the counter, and he was ready to pour.

🍦 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by @pocketsunshineharry (5k, G)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

🍦 Where I’m Meant To Be by @halohamilton (6k, E)

Harry and Louis have been sleeping together casually for a while. As two Alphas they never wanted to define it as anything more.

When Louis helps Harry out with his rut so he can get it done in time for his exam, they're forced to face feelings they were habouring for a while.

🍦 Something Blue & Someone New by @littleroverlouis (6k, E)

Single Alpha Louis moves into a new apartment building and doesn't realize he misses courting someone until meeting his next door neighbor, a charming Omega named Harry.

Louis is working up the nerve to officially ask him to court, but what if Harry secretly beats him to the punch?

🍦 You & Me Got a Whole Lot of History by @littleroverlouis (6k, E)

Harry is a 'born-lucky' immortal, happily coasting through life as he finds himself back in Burlington, Vermont. His life has been full of fun and excitement, but he lost his one great love three hundred years ago in New Orleans.

He never anticipated a reunion with his lost love in a Trader Joes, until he comes face to face with a very angry and apparently, very immortal Louis.

🍦 All I Do The Whole Day Through by @lululawrence (6k, NR)

Louis reached up and grabbed the ridiculously thick jumper that had the planets all over it and slammed the wardrobe doors shut. It was only as he turned around that he realized why Harry’s bedroom door had been shut.

There was a nest on Harry’s bed.

But why was Harry using Louis’ clothes and items that probably smelled like him in his nest?

🍦 and she sleeps in his bed by @thefondlinsons (7k, M)

Never in his life had Louis ever thought about his gender. He’d never really given a thought of who he was and what he wanted to be, as an individual. Being gay was different, to him it felt different than this. The flamboyance was expected, and accepted. He owned it, owned the fact that he was flamboyant. Exuberant. A bit too stylish. Different. Of course, there was no denying that. But when it came to his own gender, he’d always thought he was just one of the lads.

Or well, he definitely used to think that until Harry painted his nails and then called him ‘pretty’.

🍦 caught up in your love affair @disgruntledkittenface (8k, NR)

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

🍦 Can We Start Believing by @fearlesslysweetcreature (8k, E)

Harry keeps stealing pieces of Louis' clothes to make his nest. Louis keeps letting him.

🍦 Hill Country by @larrieblr (11k, E)

Louis is a farmer. His family gives him hell for it, only because it’s not a nine to five job and he should set a better example for his siblings.

When he's invited (scratch that, required) to pay a visit for a will reading, he has to double down on his work chores in advance. But spring break is just around the corner in Austin, which means Harry's free and he really, really wants to hang out.

🍦 On Your Left by @daggerandrose (11k, T)

“Get up! It's Disneyland week!” Louis shouts to his two friends from the end of their bed. It's six in the morning and Louis has been awake for a while trying to kill time before an appropriate hour to wake up his travel companions.

“What time is it?” Liam groggily asks. He pulls the covers from his eyes and squints up to Louis.

“ … six.”

“The fuck, Lou?”

“I'm sorry! The dining hall opens soon and the rope drop is at eight. Plus, Zayn is going to take for-fucking-ever to get ready.”

“Don't drag me into this,” Zayn grumbles. He pulls the covers tighter over his head.

"How long have you been awake?” Liam asks. He halfway sits up in bed so as to not bother Zayn.

“… three-thirty.”

“Louis! You're going to crash by noon today.” Liam falls back down on the bed.

“I won't! The spirit of Walt Disney will keep me awake!”

🍦 Anything that feels good by @greenblueish (13k, E)

A few seconds pass, then Louis suddenly blurts out the last thing Harry expected him to bring up that night.

“Harry, do you want to nest?”

A mixture of distraught coughing and choking escapes Harry's throat. It feels like his lungs have a leak and all the air is flowing out without him being able to do anything about it.

“What do you mean?” he croaks when he finds his voice again. “Alphas don’t nest.”

🍦 dream about a summer night by @onlyforbravest (33k, T)

Working alongside each other as camp counsellors, Harry and Louis grow closer than they’ve ever been before. That’s not a problem, but now they have these newfound feelings for each other to deal with.

🍦 Truebonds by @jacaranda-bloom (39k, E)

Louis doesn't mind being an omega, most of the time. Modern medicine allows him to suppress almost all of his omega traits, but the one thing it can't suppress is his scenting cycle. Fortunately, that only needs to be dealt with every seven years and he counts himself lucky that he can afford the services of a reputable agency.

With his cycle due, he reviews the matched candidates and there's one alpha who fits all of his criteria, S28A. That's pretty much where things start to unravel.

Enter Harry Styles, scenter for hire.

🍦 Here’s Your Perfect by @brightgolden (54k, E)

In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his. However, he is nothing like the type of alpha that the omega academy prepares Harry for.

🍦 Ace of Spades by @allwaswell16 (78k, E)

Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic.

Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

🍦 Beautiful War by @itsmotivatingcara (103k, M)

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis' a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he'd been held hostage, but he's found ways to cope.

That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death.

Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn't buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He's certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved.

Until they meet, and they're both left questioning everything they'd thought to be true.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

[goodlucktai]

Could you write something about natsume getting a hug?? Just, from whoever n for whatever reason. I keep thinking about how no one ever really hugs him n it makes me sad

x

The absolute last person Joji expected to see today was Natsume Takashi.

Joji slows to a stop on the corner of the street, a block away from the train station, and stares shamelessly.

It's been a decade since the last time he saw Natsume, but he recognizes him immediately. Of course he does. His light hair and eyes aside, Joji has thought about him on-and-off since junior high.

Joji remembers that rainy day when he was thirteen, an empty desk in the middle of his eighth grade classroom, Ito leaning over in his chair to whisper, "Did you hear? Natsume was in the ER. He almost died. The police are looking at his foster parents."

It was as if he'd been plunged into a pool of ice water. He sat there, frozen, while their teacher called them to attention for homeroom and announced that Natsume wouldn't be in their class going forward.

What was the last thing Joji had said to him? "It's no wonder your parents didn't want you." Why the hell had he said that? A book, if he remembers right. He'd lent it to Natsume and Natsume gave it back all water-damaged, like he'd gone for a swim with his backpack on. Natsume's eyes were on his hands, on the ruined book, and he'd tried to apologize, said he'd pay for it, but Joji just snatched it away, ticked off.

"This is what I get for trying to help you, I guess. It's no wonder your parents didn't want you."

Joji is almost twenty-four now. He's going into pediatrics. His fiance, Sakura, is a foster parent. She is currently the proud and fiercely protective mother of two beautiful twin girls.

Sora and Miu are terrified of adults and they go everywhere together and sometimes they make up stories. Sometimes they lie, about why their uniforms are torn, why they're home late, why their lunchboxes are covered in dirt. They have this look in their eyes sometimes like they're just waiting to get hurt again.

Sakura has the patience of a saint. She never raises her voice. She stitches their torn uniforms, replaces their lunchboxes, and, on more than one occasion, has marched into their junior high school and threatened the staff with physical violence if her babies come home with bruises one more time.

Needless to say, Sora and Miu adore her. It took them longer to warm up to Joji, but they're there now; no longer flinching when he moves in their direction, greeting him happily when he comes over for breakfast, smiling shyly when he staggers into the apartment underneath the weight of two giant stuffed rabbits that cost nearly half his paycheck, because it's their birthday, Sakura, they need them.

Joji tries to imagine someone telling them "this is why your parents didn't want you" and goes absolutely breathless with rage.

Natsume glances up from his phone to look right at Joji, as if someone had pointed him out. Caught staring, Joji shuffles in place for a moment, and then squares his shoulders and heads over.

He's expecting the Natsume of his memory; he's expecting him to curl his shoulders and duck his head, the way Joji's girls still sometimes do when a stern auntie wants to talk to them.

He's not expecting Natsume to level him with a clear, politely confused gaze. He pockets his phone, and shoves his hands into the front pockets of the cardigan he's wearing; a size too big, like something he borrowed out of someone else's closet, but it's a charming look on him. He's dressed well, in dark-washed jeans and white high-top sneakers, and his silvery hair is long, probably long enough to fall past his shoulders if he didn't have it piled up in a bun. There's a squat calico cat at his feet, glaring up at Joji with judgmental green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Natsume asks kindly. His voice is a shock to the system; Joji remembers him like it was yesterday.

"Oh," Joji says, stymied. It never occurred to him that Natsume might not recognize him in turn. "Um, I'm Watanabe Joji. We were classmates in eighth grade."

"That's right," Natsume says with gratifying quickness. He looks a little embarrassed now and returns Joji's short bow. "Sorry, it's been a long time."

And we weren't exactly friends, he doesn't say, but that common knowledge sits neatly between them.

"Ten years!" Joji replies with some forced enthusiasm. "Is that why you're here?"

"Sorry?"

"The, ah, reunion this weekend? Ito, from our homeroom back then, put together a whole thing. Our whole class is getting together for dinner and drinks."

It occurs to him that Natsume might not have been invited. Joji thinks that's less because he isn't welcome and more because Ito almost certainly didn't have his contact information. The few times his name has come up, Joji's friends have gone quiet and melancholy. A few of them are parents now, or aunts and uncles at least. All of them know better than they did when they were mean, shitty little teenagers.

Joji opens his mouth to assure Natsume that they'd love to have him, but Natsume cuts him off with a laugh.

It's not a mean laugh. It's not unfriendly in the slightest. But it stings anyway, because Natsume is laughing out of pure disbelief.

"No, no," he says, waving a hand, "god, no. Could you imagine?" he adds, glancing down at the cat. The cat huffs, settling a little more solidly against Natsume's ankle. "We're just passing through, actually."

"We?" Joji asks dumbly. Did he mean himself and the cat?

It's Natsume's turn to get cut-off, this time by a long, drawn-out shout of "Takashiiii!"

A short, russet-haired young man around Joji's age comes barreling down the sidewalk toward them at a flat-out run. Joji's first inclination is one of alarm, but Natsume steps forward with his arms outstretched, and the stranger collides with him in an embrace that looks like it hurts.

Natsume is laughing again, but it's softer this time. It's the warmest sound Joji has ever heard him make.

"What's this for?" Natsume is saying, patting him on the back.

"Just missed you," his friend replies.

"You saw him twenty minutes ago, Satoru," comes the exasperated call from further down the road, and Joji glances over to find a small group headed their way, laden with shopping bags.

"Yeah, exactly," Satoru says, leaning back without letting go, just enough to gaze up at Natsume with a cheeky grin. "I'm all Takashi-deficient. It's pretty serious."

"Sounds serious," Natsume replies, and agreeably keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the rest of their group catches up.

A tall, dark-haired man stoops to pick up Natsume's cat, and it settles agreeably in the crook of his arm. The brown-eyed woman beside him lets out a coo, shifting all her bags to one hand so she has one free to scratch it behind the ears.

"We're being rude," the dark-haired man says in a soft, pleasant tone. "Who's this, Takashi?"

Natsume introduces Joji as an old classmate, giving absolutely none of their history away in tone or expression, but somehow all of his friends seem to clue in to something anyway. Their collective demeanor shifts, in an unidentifiable way, even if their polite smiles don't slip an inch as Takashi introduces each of them in turn.

All but Nishimura Satoru, still tucked up against Natsume's side, who gives Joji a positively poisonous look.

"Okay, Satchan, you're going to lose privileges if you can't be nice," Kitamoto says dryly, and extracts him from Natsume's person with a deftness that speaks of years of practice.

"Nooo," Nishimura says, but it's curbed quickly by Shibata shoving a bag at him and snapping, "Carry this! It's that stupid lucky cat statue you just had to have, and it's heavy!"

"It looks just like sensei! Tooru loves it, too!"

"I do," Taki admits.

It's a warm afternoon, right at the end of August, the sky turning golden with the beginnings of dusk. Joji still manages to feel cold.

He grew up, but Natsume did, too. He always regretted what he did, he always wondered if Natsume was okay, wherever he went, but Natsume hasn't seemed to spare him a second thought. He's got his own friends now; bright, kind people who look like they'd raise hell for him. Who run to meet him.

Joji missed the chance to have a place in Natsume's life. He's a footnote, now, and not a very good one.

"Jojojojo!"

The bright voices have him spinning around, forgetting everything else, and he lights up when he spots Sora and Miu waving at him from the other side of the street. Sakura has a firm hold on their jackets so they can't go spilling out into the street until the pedestrian crossing sign lights up, and then she releases them like a couple of eager hunting dogs.

Natsume's friends shuffle to one side politely, and Joji steps forward to catch his girls when they reach him. They're so beautiful and he missed them so much, this weekend they were away to visit Sakura's parents. He kisses them each on the head, and then kisses Sakura on the head in the name of fairness, and it makes all three of them laugh.

Taki coos just like she did with the cat, hands clasped together under her chin.

"What sweet girls!" she says. "Are they yours, Watanabe?"

"Yes," Joji says proudly, putting one arm around each of their shoulders. They've come so far, not hiding behind him from the group of strangers, even if they press into his sides shyly. "This is Miu, and this is Sora. We're adopting them."

Sakura shifts her weight imperceptibly, a barely-there tell. Waiting, he knows, for the surprise, or outright condemnation. She's dealt with a lot of bullshit for taking these kids in, from family and ex-friends and even total strangers. It rolls right off her, and she usually gives as good as she gets, but she hates when Sora and Miu have to hear it. They don't deserve to hear it.

Joji will have to explain it to her, later, why he brought it up. Why he knew it would be safe to bring it up in front of these strangers.

Sure enough, all their faces soften immediately, a gentle transformation. Natsume crouches, gazing at the twins with an expression that Joji remembers from his childhood. The delicate resilience, the willingness to reach out even if he got hurt.

The look on his face ten years ago when he handed back that ruined book, owning up to his mistake and trying to fix it, buying Joji a replacement even after Joji said something unthinking and cruel.

"I was adopted, too," he says.

"Really?" Sora asks quietly.

"Really," Natsume tells her. "My parents died when I was little. I wasn't an easy child to care for, even though it wasn't my fault, so I got passed around a lot. It took me a long time to find my place, but I found it. Did you find yours?"

"I think so," Sora says, glancing around Joji at her sister.

"Me, too," Miu adds.

Sakura clutches Joji's hand hard enough to bruise. She won't cry here and now, but he already knows it's going to be an ice-cream-for-dinner kind of night.

Natsume looks up to meet Joji's eyes when he says, "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

It's forgiveness. Joji hears it plain as day. He didn't get a chance to ask for it-- isn't sure he deserves it-- but there it is, freely given. And it's reassurance, too.

When Joji's daughters used to curl their shoulders and duck their heads, it would always tug at the memory of a boy he used to know, who was as kind as he was desperate for kindness.

Now, he thinks, when his girls are making a mess of the kitchen trying to follow a pancake recipe with their friends, or dragging a stray cat inside with big, hopeful eyes, it'll remind him of this afternoon. Natsume's clear, bright eyes, and the protective cluster of friends surrounding him.

The world wasn't fair to him; it left a mountain in his life that he had to climb, complete with all its pitfalls and crumbling paths and bad weather.

And here he is on the other side, goodness intact. Smiling. Loved.

He found his place. Sora and Miu found theirs.

And god, if that doesn't give Joji hope for everyone else.

"It was nice to see you," he says thickly, hoping Natsume hears his honesty. "Don't come to the reunion, that was-- a stupid thing to say, but-- would you-- dinner?"

Natsume hears it. He tilts his head, considering, and then says, "We missed our train, anyway."

"And I'm starving," Tanuma says agreeably. Clearly, he says it more to agree with Natsume than anything.

Nishimura is the hardest sell, watching Joji with hard eyes. But then his gaze dips to Sora and Miu, and all his sharp edges go soft, like butter melting in the sun. After a handful of tense seconds, he visibly gives up on his anger with a huff. His friends, watching patiently, all give absurd little cheers when it's clear he's on board.

"Fine, but if you live farther than three feet away, we're getting an Uber," Shibata threatens, rustling the shopping bags in his hands with annoyed fervor.

They drift in the direction of Joji's home, and Kitamoto talks Shibata down from the Uber with the promise of ducking into a 7-Eleven for ice creams instead, and Taki and Sakura are fast friends, rolling their sleeves up to compare tattoos-- Taki's is a strange, occult-looking circle that Joji makes a mental note to ask about-- and Tanuma lets Sora carry the fat cat, while Miu pets it with reverent fingers.

Natsume walks beside Joji, calm and unhurried, with Nishimura on his other side. He grew up with so much grace.

"Can I add you to the class groupchat?" he asks without thinking.

"Good luck with that," Nishimura butts in, not unkindly. "He's the most unreliable texter you've ever met. He left me on read for like two days once, and we live together."

"You'd have better luck with an email," Natsume says apologetically.

It's more than Joji thought he'd get; they exchange contact information, in the middle of this chaotic, noisy group making its way down the street toward the well-lit combini on the corner and then, beyond that, home.

Natsume doesn't seem to have any interest in reconnecting with his old classmates, and Joji doesn't blame him for that. Even though it will certainly piss Ito off to be kept in the dark, even just for a few days, Joji decides it's for the best.

Nishimura's goodwill can't be stretched that far.

[sunmoonandeddie]

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT.  Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama!  Mama!  You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room.  She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy.  You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit… 

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in.  But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young…  Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything.  An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane.  But at least it incited real change in the world.  The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself.  Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage.  That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left.  You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of.  You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university.  And by then, what was the point?  They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer…  You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember.  You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home… 

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look.  “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.”  She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time.  “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine…  You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital.  It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course.  But it did make you feel like a horrible mother.  One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal.  “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face.  “No the fuck you did not.  I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!”  You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt.  “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table.  “And it’s not a pre-death support group.  I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.”  Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama…  I just want you to be happy…  You should have friends.  You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you?  And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone.  Completely, and utterly, alone.  Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time.  You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it.  There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours.  Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god.  She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin.  “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it…  It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with.  Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment.  “I’ll go once.  And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back.  And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet.  “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good.  She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh.  What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up.  “What?!  You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades.  “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on.  “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued.  “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight…  Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning.  A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids.  Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through.  It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big.  “Come on.  I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into.  “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held.  The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale.  Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him.  “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink.  “My dad’s single, you know.  If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed.  “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father.  And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you.  “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked.  At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed.  “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding.  Josephine had told you to make friends.  That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into.  “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face.  You hadn’t dared look at him yet.  “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t.  He was… stunning.  The very definition of male beauty.  His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties…  The 1940s, that is.  Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams.  He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older.  You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment.  Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.”  He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips.  There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome.  “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey.  It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station.  Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades.  “Really?”  Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…”  He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem.  You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display.  “Really.  I’m James.  What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name.  God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up.  “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um…  Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…”  He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips.  “You don’t look a day over thirty-five.  Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o.  “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart.  “A club?!  Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious.  “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now?  Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable.  He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink.  “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier.  James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him.  “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring.  “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful.  Everything about him was beautiful.  Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter.  His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath.  At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again.  “What did you write about?  How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this.  “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you.  Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long.  Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours.  “So…  Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames.  You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um…  Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him.  “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home…  I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over.  She’s nosey.  Real…  Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled.  “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home.  She couldn’t tell from the look on your face.  “Did you like it?”

“Hm?  Yeah.”  Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers.  At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be.  Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed.  She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower.  It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.)  By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside.  His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light.  “Woah…  You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass.  “It’s cozy.  Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink.  “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter.  “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island.  “If I am…  If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.”  His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was.  “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last.  His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect?  Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter.  “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse.  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting.  Just wanted to kiss you.  Just wanted to… to touch you.”  He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again.  “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt.  Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest.  He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts.  There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better.  There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest.  “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl…  Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy.  “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly.  He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious.  What if he thought your pussy was weird?  Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him.  The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s.  “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds.  “There’s no need…  It’s just you and me, okay?  And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss.  “Okay…  Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.  “Come on.  I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter.  Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck.  “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall.  “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours.  “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips.  “Y-Yes.  Yes.  Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you.  “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.”  You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass.  “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom.  You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips.  “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please…  Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said.  Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.  When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I…  I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time.  Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours.  “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours.  There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined.  Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw.  It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth.  Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold.  “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted…  But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.”  A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone.  The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it.  As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt.  Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker.  He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him.  He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen.  In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee…  Him in your shower…  Him in your bed every night…  

Yeah.  It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you.  “Hi.  I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said.  “I’m making pancakes.  For you.  For us.”  His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake.  “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I…  I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed.  “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in.  Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect.  Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off.  He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did.  It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder.  “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also…  Girlfriend?  Were you his girlfriend now?  Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass.  The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding…  Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed.  His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you.  “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling.  One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one.  A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was.  He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek.  His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll?  Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee.  “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head.  “Fuck…  Are you really this needy for me, angel?  Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous…  Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.  “Fucking shit…  Good girl…  Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you.  And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you.  He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting.  You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband.  All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy.  When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering.  Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck—  Oh, shit…  Baby—  I’m gonna…  I’m gonna—”  Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat.  His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip.  “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you.  “Are you okay?  I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away.  “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets.  Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll.  You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed.  His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair.  “If you don’t mind me asking…  Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say.  “Um…  I was married before…  I know you know, but, uh…”  Your fingers fiddled together nervously.  You swallowed around the lump in your throat.  “My husband…  He wasn’t…  He wasn’t nice.  At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke.  He didn’t need to speak for you to know.  He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young…  He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going.  You needed to tell him this.  You needed him to understand.  “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent.  He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you.  He needed you close.  Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times…  He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie.  That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.”  You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him.  “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am…  But she came home one day during college, to surprise us…  She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again.  She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.”  You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder.  It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours.  “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close.  “Thank you for telling me, doll…  I…  I can’t imagine how hard that was…  But he’ll never touch you again.  No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.  “I love you.  So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax.  “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face.  “Time to get up…  I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it.  He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play.  He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still.  “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other. 

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet.  His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall.  Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?!  What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her.  “Who the fuck is this?!  What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello.  I’m James.  Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed.  “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one.  You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um…  The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said.  Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief.  No.  Betrayal.  “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…”  Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm.  This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go.  “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours.  “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah?  So I’m gonna take—Danny, right?  Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room.  You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak.  In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man.  More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “And I know…  I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me.  You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.”  Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing.  “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and…  and he loves me.  More than I thought anyone could ever love me.  And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful.  And I still need you.  Everyday.  But Bucky…  I love him.  I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers.  “He…  He makes you happy?  He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah.  He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh.  “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey.  I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer.  He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch.  The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb.  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.”  Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes.  “I’m sure she’s told you about my father.  What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment.  “What are you in this for?  What’s the long term?” She asked.  “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years.  Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended.  He wasn’t that old.  “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly.  “I have no doubt you know who I am.  But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.”  His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think.  “And I…  I can say that everything I’ve been through…  Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her.  And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless.  “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat.  “Good.  I just…  I can’t see her get hurt again.  Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry.  “I…  I actually have something to ask you about…  Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying.  But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you.  “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine.  She’s just gotta have her protective moment.  You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly.  “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long…  I was just so nervous…  They both…  They both mean the world to me.”  You paused, snorting.  “I knew you’d approve of him.  I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead.  “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you.  He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already.  “I’ve never felt something like this…  But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him…  I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy?  “Well?  You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile.  “As far as dads go…  He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind.  “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll.  It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee.  “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face.  Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss.  “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world.  What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

══════ ≪ .·:·.♡.·:·. ≫ ══════

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4​

[jamaisjoons]

half a heart ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you and namjoon have always been the best of friends; who just happen to be in love and are refusing to do anything about it. 〞best friends to lovers. childhood friends to lovers. idiots to lovers.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 19.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: empHASIS ON THE IDIOTS TO LOVERS, pining, god there’s so much pining, namjoon is the sweetest man and this fic will ruin all other men for you, slight jealousy, slight possessive!namjoon, soft dom!namjoon, big cock!namjoon, sub!reader, biting, marking, grinding, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple play, nipple sucking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, riding, soft sex, i am in love with kim namjoon, some deep dicking because its not a sol fic for joon without this, creampie, slight cumplay

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: there’s honestly so much fluff in this and that is a testament to how much i love Kim namjoon papa bless,

⏤ thank you to my sweet beans @peekaboongi​ and @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading this for me ♡

⇥ part of the mixtape series

Decidedly, there have been many days in your life. Some happy, some sad. Some you remember better than others while others fade away into the back of your mind. Some are ingrained so deep in your mind that when you close your eyes, you can see every detail as if it’s currently happening. None, however, do you remember more clearly than the day you met Namjoon. It had been almost two decades ago; when you were five, and he was six. You remember being nervous - your parents had just moved to Seoul - and unlike your small port town of Yeosu, you had no friends, nor did you know anyone.

Seoul had originally felt like an adventure, but actually moving there had been a lonely experience. Tall skyscrapers dwarfed your form, and life moved as fast as its people - unlike your sleepy hometown. Thus, when your mother had brought you to the park, you’d clung to her skirt - too afraid to venture out and speak to anyone. Closing your eyes, you can still see the faded metal of the monkey bars, hear the tinkering laughter of children running around and smell the sweet scent of the Bungeoppang stall that was nearby.

It had all been incredibly overwhelming back then, and you’d only hidden further behind your mother’s legs. Until - you’d spotted a boy, as lonely as you. A fond smile curls on your face as you remember Namjoon’s little frame. With chubby cheeks, curious eyes, and dressed in little shorts and a bright red t-shirt, he’d sparked your own curiosity. Unlike the other children, he wasn’t running around, or climbing the slide, or even hanging from the monkey bars. Rather, he sat crouched on the floor, intrigued brown eyes staring intently at the bushes as he stuck his hand into the shrubbery.

Unable to stop yourself, and completely enthralled by his curiosity, you’d approached him hesitantly. The moment he had felt your presence behind you, he’d hushed you, his face twisted in concentration. His harsh shush had almost sent you running - scared that he’d yell at you for coming close to him - but instead, you’d stayed rooted to the spot - too engrossed in his actions. All of a sudden, he’d yelped in triumph and pulled out his hands.

Immediately, he’d turned to you and with the brightest smile - eyes full of wonder and the apples of his cheeks bunched together - he’d proudly shown you the little green frog he’d caught. And that one action - that one smile - had sealed it between the two of you. Ever since then, Namjoon had been your best friend. Woefully, to your utter despair, it turned out that his family lived a good forty-five minutes from you. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you - no. Still, every day, the two of you would meet up at the park and go on little adventures - Namjoon’s pudgy hand holding onto yours.

Nostalgia cascades through you as you continue mulling over your relationship with Namjoon. You’ve lived twenty-four years, and throughout the vast majority of it - Kim Namjoon has been your only constant. Even as you grew up, the distance had meant nothing to you; you’d always made time for each other. Your childhood had been filled with wild adventures and borderline ridiculous experiences: Namjoon dragging you out the comfort of your home so that the two of you could do whatever stupid thing his enigmatic mind could think up. Consequently, that very same enigmatic mind is the exact reason for your current situation.

It’s the middle of the night - the air cool against your skin, even with your large puffer jacket to keep you warm. Currently, you find yourself on the rooftop of your building and as usual, like most of your memories, Namjoon is beside you. Just a few minutes ago, he had burst into your bedroom. Carelessly, he’d thrown you your jacket before dragging you onto the roof of the building. Of course, you’d tried to protest, but you’d never been able to deny Namjoon. Not when he looked at you with those sweet, warm coffee eyes of his.

Thus, you’d let him - albeit reluctantly - pull you to the top of your apartment building.

Sitting on the bare, cold tile - you look at him expectantly. Mild annoyance twists your features; though, that’s more due to the chill of the wind, and your grogginess, than anything else. It’s nearly the end of summer: the foliage of the trees starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. On the horizon, you can see the stark, vivid neon lights of Seoul’s skyline - the city still buzzing with life. However, in your smaller neighbourhood - away from the main bustle of the town, it’s quieter - darker.

The thick tarp of night blankets the sky: painting it midnight blue, and starks twinkle within its hold: scintillating like the clearest diamonds. Despite the ambient chill, you find yourself relaxing: your shoulders deflating imperceptibly. Knees pulled to your chest, you wrap your arms around your knees and stare at the sky. For as long as you’d know, you’d loved the night sky - its dark embrace nothing short of comforting. More than that, you loved the stars - you loved coming out at night and just drinking in their radiance; their distant coldness soothing your soul.

You’d always thought there was a certain loneliness to them. They look beautiful: glinting magnificently beside each other while they hover in the upper stratosphere. But you know better - each and every one of them are millions of light-years apart from the next - each more sequestered than the one before. Really, you know they have no sentience - and in fact, most of them are already dead: completely burnt out by the time you can view them. And you know they can’t feel their solitude: they’re nothing but burning clusters of gases and atoms - combusting in a breathtaking display of light. Nevertheless, it’s still something you take an odd comfort in.

“Why did you bring me out here, Joon?” you finally ask, turning back to your best friend. You watch him grin brightly at you, the deep wells of his dimples indenting in his full cheeks, but you know Namjoon. In fact, you know him better than you know yourself. Thus, you see the slight hesitant insecurity swirling in his usually soft,  brown eyes.

“You had a bad day- and it’s night time,” Namjoon replies, his voice a little hushed. With a deep sigh, you glare at him. It’s almost three in the morning, you’re tired and a little cranky. Of course, it’s not like he woke you up or anything - he’d seen that your bedroom light was still on and that you were sadly moping in bed, curled under the covers as you scrolled through social media. Mainly because he was right, you did have a bad day. Work had been exhausting, someone from your team had misplaced some important figures and your boss had yelled at you for it in front of everyone; completely embarrassing you, even though it wasn’t your fault.

Exhaling deeply, fatigue evident in your sigh, “Joon- can we not do this now? Whatever you want to do, let’s just do it some other time. I’m tired, I’m cold and I just want to go back to bed,” you breathe out. Immediately, Namjoon shuffles closer to you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he tugs you into his chest.

Petulantly, you keep your shoulders stiff - fighting his pull. However, when his calming scent: fresh cotton and soft floral notes - the mix of his fabric softener and lotion, wafts across your senses, you reflexively find yourself turning putty in his hold. Relaxing in his embrace, you let his strong arms envelop you, taking comfort in your best friend’s cradle. Instinctively, Namjoon places his chin onto your head, tucking you further into him.

Knowing you’re fighting a losing battle, “Joon,” you mumble wearily.

“Just give me a couple of moments okay? I promise you’ll love this. Let me explain - and if you still want to go to bed, we can, alright?” comes his soothing words. The dulcet tones of his voice fill your eardrums, his chest rumbling lowly under your back. When you don’t say anything, Namjoon continues, “You had a bad day, but it’s a clear night tonight. You love watching the stars.” There’s no real emotion in his voice - his mouth uttering the statements plainly. Not that it really needs any emotion - they’re all basic facts.

Seeing where he’s going with this, you sink further into his embrace. Trust your best friend to drag you out on a cool summer night, just to stargaze, because you had a bad day. You love him. You really do. Tiredness brushed aside, you wriggle in his hold slightly and tilt your head, so you can look up at him. Namjoon shifts, putting a little distance between the two of you as he looks down at you. His face is incredibly close, his breath fanning your lower chin: so sweet you can taste him on your lips.

“Are we just out here to watch the stars?” you ask, a light teasing inclination lacing your voice.

Namjoon hums lowly, before cocking his head to the sky. Arms tightening around you, his voice turns low - and deep - the shallow timbre of his voice easing your soul. “As long as I’ve known you, you have been in love with the night sky - and the stars. Especially the constellations, and their myths, and their stories…” Namjoon begins, his warm gaze trailing over the vast cosmos above you. Then, he pauses before turning back to you. His eyes are alight with tenderness and a slight streak of knowing mischief, “but you’ve never actually been able to point out any of them,” he continues with a low chuckle.

Hearing his words, you scowl slightly before playfully smacking his soft belly. Never being able to actually make out a genuine constellation - other than Orion, because really, that one was easy - had always frustrated you to no end. You’d tried - really, you’d tried - but every time you’d look at the stars, you’d get lost in its overwhelming expanse, and consequently, those bright clusters would blur together - like a pile of glitter dust.

“Did we come out here just so you could tease me?” you butt in, pout evident in your voice. Namjoon exhales heavily in amusement, before tapping his chin against your forehead.

“No- that’s just an added bonus,” Namjoon laughs. Scowl deepening, you stick your tongue out at him. Large hands skim down your body before twisting around your waist and pulling you further into his body, “I learned them for you,” he suddenly breathes out.

Pausing, your features twist into an expression of confusion, “huh? Learned what?” you question.

Namjoon’s fingers flex above your stomach, a sign of his nervousness. From your head resting below his chin, you feel, and hear, him swallow thickly. “I learned them - the constellations. I learned about their positions and how to locate them. Just so you can tell me about them,” he confesses.

Floored by his admission, you instantly jerk off of him. Turning around, you stare at him with wide eyes, your gaze trailing over his face as you take him in. Gazing into his soft mocha eyes, you can’t help but find yourself sinking into their depths. Two decades. You’ve known Namjoon over two decades, and yet - somehow his eyes are the same. You remember them clearly from when he was younger, the pools of liquid chocolate shining just as they did back then. If you were being cheesy, you’d liken them to the stars you love so much: the brown irises twinkling as if those coffee depths held the stars themselves.

Except - they’re not the same. Unlike the cold, distant light of the stars, Namjoon’s eyes are dynamically bright, wonderfully expressive, and so full of tender love and warm affection. Sometimes, they sparkle with curiosity - and other times, they glint with an enigmatic knowingness: as if he knew all the secrets of the world. Right now, there’s nothing but kindness, and earnestness in his eyes, mixed with a little hesitance, and just the sight of it has your heart clenching, overwhelming emotion welling up inside you. Throat tight, and mouth suddenly dry, your face crumples as you take in the sight of your best friend.

His muscles are completely relaxed as he sits on the concrete tile of the rooftop - strong arms now braced on the ground as he leans back. Silhouetted by the dark blanket that is the night sky, he somehow looks bigger, and with his dark hair falling into his eyes, and an inkling of nervousness painted in his tender eyes, your chest tightens. Swallowing thickly, you shuffle closer before laying your head on him.

Automatically, as if the movement were ingrained in his muscles, his arms wrap around you, and gently, he pulls you backwards - until you’re both laying down. One of his hands moved to rest under his head - cushioning his skull - while the other lazily curls around you: the gesture second nature to him. With your head on his chest, you naturally entwine your fingers with his, before laying it on your stomach. Staring up at the sky, you point at a random constellation.

“Which one is that?” you ask, pointing to a random group of twinkling orbs. You thinkit’s a constellation - but really, it could just be an obscure cluster of stars.

Namjoon laughs, his chest reverberating endearing under your head. “You know, it’s kinda hard to know which one you’re pointing to when you just point at a random spot,” he teases. With a pout, you let out a slight huff, making him laugh again.

“How about this - I’ll point them out, and you can tell me about them?” Namjoon asks. Nodding eagerly, your entire body buzzes with excitement.

“That one’s Hercules,” Namjoon says - pointing to the sky before tracing a series of complicated geometric shapes in the air.

Baulking, “no! Joonie- oh my god, pick a different one. Hercules is so boring- everyone knows his story,” you whine. At your words, Namjoon bursts into laughter - the slightly high-pitched sound causing your face to soften. Focusing on the sound, you let the light laughter wash over you, the sound putting you at ease.

“Alright, alright. That one is Cassiopeia. Tell me about her,” Namjoon says - moving his hand down and tracing a zigzag over some brightly coloured stars.

Eyes lighting up, “Oh she’s cool! Well- not really. She was a queen and she claimed her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the Nereids. As a result, Poseidon-” you begin, before going off on a tangent. Throughout the entire story, Namjoon pays you the utmost attention - listening attentively as you animatedly regurgitate one of the countless myths you’ve got memorised.

When you're done, he points out another one - Draco this time - and with a soft pout, you explain that Draco was part of Hercules’ twelve labours. However, rather than making him change, you begin retelling the myth. Through it all, Namjoon listens quietly, and eventually, you grow tired, your voice turning wearier and wearier as you begin mumbling.

You’ve only just finished recounting the supposed myth of Corona Borealis - commonly known as the Northern Crown, and how its story is tied to the myth of Theseus and the minotaur. When your voice trails off and quiet fills the atmosphere once again. Namjoon's hand is still entwined in yours, and lazily, you play with his fingertips - simply watching the night sky and how the stars slowly pass over you. Perfectly content with the stillness around you, you’re happy to sit and bask in the comfort your best friend offers you: his arm casually over your body and his steady heartbeat under your head.

Then, all of a sudden, “have you ever loved someone?” he asks. Freezing under him, you tilt your head to look at the bottom of his jaw. Briefly, you wonder what spurred on the question - it’s completely out of the blue. “Sorry, it’s just- most of those myths had some sort of romance, and like, I was just wondering. You can ignore me,” Namjoon mumbles under his breath.

Sucking in a sharp breath, “I mean- I love you,” you choke out. Namjoon sighs, his fingers tightening around yours before you feel him shake his head.

“No- I mean like, have you ever been in love?” he asks, and from your position on his chest, with your head tilted up, you vaguely see the way his eyebrows knit in puzzlement. Pausing briefly, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and chew on it. That is what you’d meant. You have no delusions about you - you’re in love with your best friend. You’re not really sure when it had happened, but somewhere between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, you’d lost your heart to your best friend - and you’d never asked for it back. Nor did you ever really want it back.

Briefly, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings now. “I-” I have those feelings for you. It would be so easy - to just spill the words that have bubbled up at the back of your throat. However, you can’t bring yourself to do it. So, instead, “I guess,” you softly finish.

You don’t have to confess your feelings.

At least, not yet.

Soon, autumn rolls around the corner, and mid-October, you and your friends decide to take a much-needed vacation from both universities: Jungkook in his final year, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin all in their masters, and from work: you, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung needing to recuperate from the stress of office life. Thus, your entire group decided to pool as much money together as you could, and take a spontaneous trip. Though, with half your friendship group still being broke university students, your holiday spots were sorely limited.

Nevertheless, deciding a weekend trip was the easiest - and probably the cheapest. You and your friends find yourself in a cabin nestled in the woods near Seoraksan National Park. It’s a quaint location - privately owned by an old couple who’d bought it in their prime - surrounded by trees and a little neighbouring stream. However, the lot of you had yet to explore any of the trails. Especially considering its late evening - all of you only arriving an hour ago.

“Can someone come and help me for a moment?” Seokjin calls, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

From your seat on the sofa, nestled comfortably between Namjoon’s thighs as you rest against his chest, you look around the room. Jungkook and Taehyung are in the middle of what seems to be an intense game of Jenga, Hoseok and Jimin cheering them from the sidelines. On the sofa opposite the one you and Namjoon are occupying, Yoongi is practically falling asleep - and you know he needs the rest: having pulled a double shift at the radio station he works at. Noting the way you shift, Namjoon lets out a whine of protest, his bulging biceps tightening around you as he tries to keep you in his arms.

Laughingly, “Joonie- you need to let me go. I’m gonna go help Jin,” you say as you try wriggling out of his grasps.

Namjoon only lets out a grunt of protest, “I literally stopped reading because you practically crawled into my lap, and this is the thanks I get?” he grumbles in mock petulance. Exasperated sighs escaping your lips, you untangle yourself from his embrace - Namjoon finally letting go of you, albeit reluctantly. “You owe me for this,” he groans as he stares up at you. Rolling your eyes, you bend over to the book he’d dropped on the ground when you’d practically smothered him with your body, and playfully throw it onto his stomach.

“Well, go back to reading then, you big baby,” you laugh. Then, not waiting for his response, you skip towards the kitchen in order to help Seokjin.

Mid-dinner preparation, and from your position besides Seokjin, you see Namjoon skulk into the kitchen. He’s got his hands buried into the large pockets of his grey hoodie, a small pout on his face. Ignoring his presence, you turn back to Seokjin, nodding with laughter as he continues animatedly talking about an incident at his office.

“And then, he literally takes his fish soup - which smells off by the way - and eats it like nothing's wrong. Literally, sitting with his shoes off and feet up on another chair! Completely ignoring the fact that the entire break room smells like a fish market and as if Yeojin wasn’t just watching him with her jaw open,” Seokjin finishes.

Letting out a loud guffaw, “no! He didn’t, oh my god. What did Yeojin do after that?” you ask, as your laughing body leans into Seokjin.

Taking a seat by the kitchen island, Namjoon’s eyes wander over you and Seokjin - his eyelids narrowing slightly at how close the two of you are standing. Seokjin is leaning slightly into you as he stirs the pot, your own body braced against his in a fit of giggles. Stomach dropping to the pits of his abdomen, and with a slightly soured expression, “what are you laughing about?” Namjoon asks as he approaches you.

“Oh, Jinnie was just telling me about these two people in his office. They keep fighting and Yeojin pissed Minki off, so he decided to eat fish soup in the office - knowing she hates the smell,” you reply simply, letting out a little laugh as you remember the story. Namjoon frowns when he watches you smile easily at Seokjin, your eyes alight with carefree happiness.

Pout deepening, he slips his arms under yours before wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Angling your head up, you look at him curiously before laughing, “you okay, Joonie?” you ask. Despite your question, however, you smile brightly and instinctively sink into his embrace. From beside you, Seokjin looks at the two of you in exasperation, and after giving Namjoon a pointed, knowing look, turns back to his own task.

Really, Seokjin muses to himself, Namjoon could not be any more obvious with his feelings - or possessiveness. In fact, neither could you - the two of you practically glued at the hips. For as long as he’s known you both, the two of you have been like this - and yet, you’re still somewhat oblivious to the other’s feelings. After another shake of his head, he sighs in exasperation again before continuing to stir the pot.

Namjoon hums, placing his chin onto your head, “hmm. Uhh... yeah, just wondering if I can help?” He slowly asks.

Snorting, “absolutely not. You’re too much of a hazard risk here. Just go sit with everyone else,” you reply. Swiftly, you place the knife down and wriggle in his arms: unwinding from his grasp. Then, bracing your hands on his strong chest, you begin pushing him out of the kitchen.

“What- no, I can help,” Namjoon protests the entire time you push him. However, you refuse to be deterred.

“Nope! The last time you did that, you burnt your hands trying to drain some noodles. I love you Joon, but you don’t have a lot of common sense in the kitchen. Just go read your book. Seokjin and I are almost done anyway,” you say as you finally shoo him away. Your best friend lets out a little huff, but does as you ask. You watch as he sulks off, dropping to the couch huffily before he crosses his arms and pouts quietly. Shaking your head, you turn back into the kitchen - ready to finish up.

As you’d said - in another ten minutes, you and Seokjin are done. You help Seokjin carry the piles of dishes into the living room - deciding to sit around the coffee table and eat. When you place the last dish, you turn around to your best friend - only to see that he’s still pouting. With his strong eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks slightly puffed out and plush lips pursed, he’s the most adorable expression of frustrated petulance you’ve ever seen.

Grabbing one of the pieces of fried chicken, you plop yourself down beside Namjoon. Sullenly, Namjoon turns away from you - even as you hold out the chicken as a peace offering. Watching his reaction, you bite your lip and place the piece of chicken back down onto the table. From beside you, Jungkook looks at the two of you curiously, a piece of tempura prawn already halfway into his mouth.

“What’s wrong with Joon-hyung?” Jungkook questions, pointing his chopstick at your best friend.

“He’s mad ____ kicked him out the kitchen,” Seokjin replies simply before slurping his noodles.

Ignoring them, you place your hands on either side of Namjoon’s cheeks and squeeze them together, you turn his face towards you. “Joonbug, I’m sorry,” you say as you look at him with large eyes and an exaggerated pout. The corners of Namjoon’s lips twitch, causing you to let out a cheer of triumph. “I saw that! You can’t be mad at me anymore,” you practically shriek.

“That’s not fair! You know you look ridiculous when you pull that face, how am I supposed to stay mad at you,” Namjoon bemoans.

However, you’re already shaking your head and loudly smacking your lips, “nope,” you reply - harshly popping the ‘p’. “Too late. You love me,” you continue.

Eyes softening, Namjoon nudges you with his shoulder before reaching for a piece of chicken, “Nah- I’ve just known you for so long, I can’t get rid of you,” he retorts.

“Oh please, we all know you love me,” you snort back. And then, without thinking, you reach over and smack a wet kiss against Namjoon’s cheek. Playfully, he pulls a face before rubbing at the wet spot on his cheek and wiping it on your shirt excessively.

Before you can reply, “Oi! Can we just eat without you two being gross for once?” Jimin cuts in - throwing a cushion at the two of you.

“Yeah dudes, some of us are trying to eat,” Taehyung chimes in.

Namjoon and you still all of a sudden, completely taken aback by Taehyung and Jimin’s words. Matching identical expressions of surprise plastered onto your face, you both sputter at the same time, “what’s the supposed to mean?” Hearing the synchronous, twin cries out outrage, you both blink owlishly before turning to each other.

Scoffing playfully, “That’s what we mean,” Yoongi chimes in.

Hours later, you and Namjoon sit up in bed. With the room swallowed by darkness - the room is merely lit up by the soft ambient lights of the bedside tables and the soft streams of moonlight peeking through from under the heavy cotton curtains. Buried under the covers, with the sheets tucked under your lap, you practically lay on Namjoon’s chest: relishing in the way his chest rumbles under your head. When Namjoon lets out a sudden high pitched noise, you can’t help but let out a peal of raucous laughter.

“Oh my god, J-Joon that was s-so bad,” you choke out, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Playfully pinching your side, Namjoon pouts, “hey! Personally, I thought it was a very good elephant noise,” he replies haughtily.

Raising your eyebrow, “in what world is that an elephant noise? It sounded like you were blowing a very bad raspberry,” you reply indignantly.

“Oh like you could do better?” Namjoon drawls snarkily. Jaw dropping to your chest, you look up at him in mock ire.

Then, eyelids narrowing playfully, you crook your elbow over your mouth. “Oh, watch me,” you reply - easily accepting his challenge. However, just before you can blow into the skin of your elbow - there’s a knock at the door.

Rather than waiting for the two of you to answer, Yoongi is already opening the door. The two of you wince, your eyes squinting as the stark white lights of the corridor break into the soft golden ambience of your bedroom. “Do you both ever sleep?” Yoongi mumbles as he shuffles into the room.

“Coming from you that’s pretty rich, Yoon,” you reply back, a playful grin on your face. Yoongi tuts, however, before he can say anything, he simply stops and takes in the sight of you. With your head laid on Namjoon’s chest, his body propped against the headboard, and the sheets comfortably draped around your bodies, you look the epitome of an old married couple; and he’ll never understand how the two of you aren’t together yet. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do - and even best friends aren’t as close as you both are. In fact, he knows if he were to take the covers off you both - neither of you would be wearing pyjama bottoms.

Choosing to ignore your comment, and how ridiculously at ease the two of you are together, “Yeah, whatever. It’s almost sunrise and we were thinking of going up the hill just outside Seoraksan Park and watching it, if you wanna join us,” Yoongi says as he scratches his ear.

“Wait- what? Sunrise? Already?” you ask, as you sit up in bed. Namjoon follows your movement, sitting up straighter as you both glance at the clock on the table next to your bed.

“Fuck, have we really been awake the entire night? How? What have we even been doing” Namjoon asks, turning to you with the most adorable look of perturbation you’ve ever seen. Not having an answer to his question, you simply shrug your shoulders. Staying up early into the morning was a common occurrence where Namjoon and you were concerned. Somedays, you don’t even remember what you’d talked about or what you’d done - you only knew that you’d spent the entirety of the night with him by your side.

“How the fuck do you not know the time? Or what you’ve been doing- you know what, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi begins ranting only to stop. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, “Are you guys coming?” he breathes out.

Looking at Namjoon, you quirk your eyebrow at him. Yoongi watches as the two of you simply watch each other - and neither of you says anything, yet he knows somehow you’re both still having an internal conversation. Then, in a borderline creepy manner, you both turn at the same time and nod.

“Yeah, just give us a moment to get dressed,” Namjoon says as he pushes the sheets off of your both. Yoongi frowns, diverting his eyes immediately - because just as he’d predicted, both of you are dressed in just t-shirts and your underwear.

Exasperated sigh falling from his lips, and with a shake of his head, “Just meet us by the door,” Yoongi calls out as he exits your room.

Namjoon turns around to you, and with a quirk of his eyebrow, “What do you think is up with him?” he asks.

Shrugging, “honestly? No idea,” you reply.

Pulling your jacket closer around you, you shiver at the early morning chill: goosebumps prickling over your flesh as the crisp squall kisses your skin. Shrouded in darkness, the night sky looms over your group of friends as you carefully walk over the cobbled stone pathway. Large, slippery slates of stone litter the area: the boulders covered in a light sheen of river water from the stream nearby and leafy mosses poking through the narrow cracks between them. Considering this route isn’t exactly public - the grounds belong to the sweet couple who owned the lodge - the pathway isn’t as maintained as it could be - and all of you hold onto each other, keeping the other steady.

Namjoon’s hand firmly grips yours as he carefully steps over the rocks, and you know he’s using you as more of a support than you are using him, but you can’t help it. For as long as you’ve known him, Namjoon has been inherently clumsy; and constantly, you worry about his safety. Especially on excursions like this - the only light illuminating your path coming from the harsh flashlights of your phones. Nonetheless, your eyes glance to where your hands are linked, your heart fluttering at the sight.

His hand is large: dwarfing your smaller one, and warmth seeps from his skin towards yours: a smaller blessing considering the nippy air of the early morning. When he’s firmly stable on the boulder, he turns to you from over his shoulder. Even with the practically nonexistent lighting, you can still make out his face as he regards you with the brightest - somewhat sleepy - grin. The sight of him: lips pulled thin in a smile and dimples indented, paired with the way his frame is silhouetted in the shades of fall, has your heart clenching. Tightening your hold on Namjoon’s hand, you allow his strong frame to anchor you as you take another step forward - most of the other boys already ahead of you. Not that either of you mind, you and Namjoon tended to go off into your own world on walks like this anyway.

Eventually, the pathway morphs from slippery rocks to soft terrain. Reaching the entrance to the forest trail that apparently - according to the old couple - leads to a beautiful hilltop viewpoint, the eight of you gather around. Dawn’s twilight paints the sky - honeyed shades of topaz, rose and lilacs splattering across the night. The soft light finally illuminates the pathway, allowing you to see more clearly. Autumn is thick around you - the foliage emblazoned in colours of scarlet, amber and gold. Though, occasionally, trees with vibrant viridian and olivine foliage peek through the warm shades of fall. The ground is covered in dead leaves - the fallow litterfall cushioning the terrain, and crackling under your footsteps.

Beginning your descent down the winding trail - everyone breaks off into small groups: the pathway only wide enough to fit two people at a time. As usual, you and Namjoon find yourself at the rear end: your best friend stopping every now and then to snap a picture of the scenic landscapes around him. You love your best friend, you really do, but as he stops to inspect a rustling bush, you can’t help but sigh. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes widen as you realise that the boys have walked off further than you’d anticipated - however - before you can say something, Namjoon is already grabbing your hand once again.

“Did you see that?” Namjoon asks, a look of awed wonder etched onto his face. Eyebrows furrowing, you turn to where he’s pointing. Once again, the brush rustles, and when a chipmunk pops out, you take a surprised step back. It’s beady eyes take in you and Namjoon for a moment, and then it retreats back into the brush. “Wait- oh my god… There’s a hidden pathway! We should follow it,” Namjoon says ecstatically, his entire body vibrating with excitement. You’ve both been up the entire night, and with your walk, you find yourself growing tired. You know he is too. Yet, despite the sleepiness clouding both your bodies, his warm chocolate eyes practically sparkle; his entire aura buzzing with eagerness.

Biting your lip, you try to suppress your smile - though, you're sure your own look of excitement mirrors his. Desperately, you want to grab his hand and chase after the chipmunk - reminiscent of the days you’d do the same when you were children. However, you’re older now, and your friends have already walked off - and you really don’t want to get lost in a forest. Well you do, especially if it’s with Namjoon. But still, you need to be somewhat responsible. So, “Joonbug-” you try to reason, because really if you didn’t, no one would.

A knowing look on his face, “Moonbeam,” replies, his pet name for you dripping affectionately from his thick lips, “come on, it’ll be an adventure. There’s a little pathway here,” Namjoon says, as he reaches his hand out to you, the other pushing the bush out of the way. Instantly, you cave - because really, how could you say no to him - especially when you really don’t want to say no.

Placing your hand into his, “Alright, but if we get lost and Seokjin yells at us, I’m blaming you,” you reply cheekily. Instinctively, Namjoon’s fingers lace through yours as he tugs you towards the concealed pathway.

“I’ll just tell him you enabled me to do it,” Namjoon snaps back, a playful tone laced into his words. Then, without another word, he’s pulling you into the narrow pathway. Rapidly, he begins tearing through the trail, following the winding, narrow pathway as best as he can.

Your best friend is tall, and his legs are long - making his strides particularly lengthy - and you know anyone else would fall behind pretty quickly.

But not you.

No. You’ve grown up with Namjoon. You’re used to him grabbing your hand and running, used to chasing after him; and you’re used to keeping up with him easily. So, even with his long strides, and how quickly his feet slap the ground - you manage to follow him easily, your own toes just behind his heels. Colours of crimson, gold and honey blur past you, the crunching of leaves and the sound of your stomping feet mixing in a thunderous cacophony of sounds that fill the air.

However, you barely notice any of it. Rather, you’re far too fixated on your best friend. His hand is laced firmly in yours the entire time you chase after him - his long legs practically sprinting down the trail and after the chipmunk. Childlike glee exudes off of him in thick waves, and with the way his body bounces, his hair flopping as he runs, you can’t help the way your eyes soften. His large frame tears through the thicket of woods, the trunks whizzing past you while your own legs sprint as fast as they can.

Lost in Namjoon, you don’t notice him suddenly skid to a halt - at least, not until you’re crashing into his back. Steadfast, Namjoon braces himself - the two of you stumbling for a moment. Just in the nick of time, however, you both steady yourself: preventing you from falling over. Features scrunching in confusion, you look up at the back of his head in question.

“Joon, what-” you ask, only to halt when you peer over his large body.

Somehow, the hidden trail has led you both to a different viewpoint than the one the couple had told you about. Standing near the edge of the hilltop, you find yourself completely breathless at the view that greets your eyes.

At the top of one of Seokraksan’s many mountainous points, you can see miles off into the distance. Twilight slowly slips past, the sky indolently brightening with each passing moment. Dark shades of Prussian blue, indigo and plum soften into milder hues of lavender and azure; streaks of bronze and coral cutting through the sky. Stepping beside Namjoon, you both watch - in utter stillness, and awe - as the sun slowly rises over the skyline.

Thick beams of Aurelian gold peek over the horizon; illuminating the entirety of the ground with its rich sunkissed glow. Synchronously, both yours and Namjoon’s breath hitches. As the sun rises, the entirety of Seoraksan National park is lit up in the dazzling hues of daybreak. Autumnal trees of vibrant shades shimmer under its gleaming rays; the water from the narrow river that cuts through the park glistening in deep shades of cerulean and sapphire.

Turning to Namjoon, you can’t help but stop. Instantly, your breath catches in your throat and you find yourself at a loss for words. With the sun still rising in the sky, his entire body is silhouetted in a golden halo: the rays of light dancing enticingly around him. The autumn wind is light in the air, his hair gently billowing in the wind as sunlight filters through it.

And then he turns around.

Automatically, you suck in a sharp breath. With his face towards you, encased in the golden hues of daylight, you can’t help the overwhelming swell of emotions that crush you. Reflected in his warm eyes, are the golden rays of sunlight; causing the deep pools of coffee to twinkle with a certain mix of lightness and peace. The corners of his mouth are loosely pulled upwards, an easy smile painted on his lips. He stands with his hands loosely in the pockets of his oversized denim jacket, his shoulders completely lax as he soaks in the breathtaking scenery.

Swallowing thickly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat - but you can’t. Nor can you settle the beat of your heart: the muscle thunderously palpitating between your ribs. You don’t know what compels you to do it - but suddenly, you’re taking a step forward. And then another. And another. Until you’re right in front of him.

Namjoon watches you quietly - a light streak of curiousness evident in his eyes. However, that inkling of interest is overshadowed by the overwhelming emotion that you simply cannot decipher.

Nonetheless, the moment you’re only a hair’s breadth apart, you find yourself winding your arms around his waist. Instinctively, Namjoon’s hands drop from his pockets, his hands curling around your and encasing you in his hold. Then, before you can even think about it, or consider stopping yourself, you’re leaning on your tiptoes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

For a fraction of a second, Namjoon’s eyes widen - his brain on the fritz as he feels your soft lips tenderly brush against his. The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark of electricity jolt through your body; your entire being coming to life as you buzz with excitement. Its sudden spark has you crashing back to reality, your senses finally coming back to you. As quick as it comes, however, and before he can react, you’re already swiftly pulling away.

The two of you stare at each in surprise, neither of you saying anything. You can still taste him on your lips, the soft petals tingling from when your mouth had tenderly caressed his. Licking your lips, dread floods through you as you wait for him to say something. However, he doesn’t. Instead, he stands completely rigid - his eyes glazed over and lips slightly parted.

When the silence grows terse, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” you quickly blurt out. Your words have Namjoon crashing back to reality, and he draws to his full height - an unreadable expression in his eyes. “I mean- I’m just tired, we’ve been up all night and I wasn’t thinking straight-” you try to explain. It’s a lie. You know it is - but hopefully, it’s a lie he believes. You had wanted to kiss Namjoon - desperately - because sheathed in the early morning light, you don’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful. Nonetheless - you’d rather not lose your best friend.

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes out, his plump lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

The fierce urge to pull him in for another kiss tears through you, but this time, you manage to suppress it.

“Oh,” Namjoon repeats, almost as if he’s trying to process your words. There’s something hidden behind the way the sound drops from his lips - but before you can dwell on it, he’s already speaking.

“That’s okay, we’re both tired,” Namjoon nods, a light, nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “It’s okay, it means nothing… right?” he finishes. Although, you can’t help but wonder about the uncertainty in his final word.

Nonetheless, “Y-yeah, you’re right,” you mumble out, trying to stifle the way your throat constricts. Anguish cascades through you, your chest turning numb. However, it’s for the best. As much as you love Namjoon, losing him would completely devastate you. Gulping heavily, you lick your lips, “we’re okay… right?” you ask, your voice straining slightly as you attempt to choke out the words.

Namjoon smiles brightly - though, you can’t help but notice how it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “When are we not okay? It’s you and me, ____. Joonbug and Moonbeam, remember?” he replies easily, his eyes squinted shut into crescented slits.

“Yeah… Joonbug and Moonbeam,” you repeat; a smile curling onto your own face. Even as your heart aches to be more. Then, the two of you go back to staring at the sunrise.

For the rest of the trip, you and Namjoon don’t act any differently. In fact, both of you pretend as if you hadn’t kissed by the sunrise: that you didn’t know how the other tasted after a sleepless night filled with nothing but each other.

Yet, neither of you can deny that something about your relationship has changed. Though, as dread settles in your stomach, you can’t figure out whether it’s a good or bad change.

Four months after your kiss, you find yourself on the sofa with Namjoon. Not much has changed about your relationship with him; in fact, there are only two things that have changed. One is the fact that your feelings for your best friend have grown exponentially, and more often than not, you find yourself lost in him: desperately wishing to feel his lips on yours or to confess the weight of the emotions you feel for him: the words at the tip of your tongue.

Nevertheless, you don’t. You can’t. Not after the way he’d reacted to your first kiss in the first place. Though, there are times you wish he’d reacted differently - wish that your relationship was more than it is. Like right now.

You and Namjoon are currently on the sofa, his head resting on your chest and arms loosely thrown around your waist as you hold him; the two of you watching Shark Tale together. Why he’d suddenly wanted to watch Shark Tale, you have no idea. Nonetheless, there’s very little you can deny your best friend - so when he’d wanted to watch the film, you’d easily given in.

Namjoon’s gaze is glued to the screen, his eyes focused as he lazily watches the TV screen. Your focus, however, is fixated wholly onto him. With the way he’s laid on you, his body practically smothering yours, you can feel the way his chest rises and falls above yours, and the faint thudding of his heartbeat. Instinctively, your hands find themselves in his hair - loosely twirling the thick, silken locks between your fingertips.

It’s at moments like these, that you wish you were more: wish that you could call out his name softly and press your lips to him. But you can’t; because the second reason your relationship with Namjoon has changed, is that he’s now dating someone. And you mean dating - because he has yet to introduce her to you as his girlfriend - and until he does, you refuse to call her that. Mainly because it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

More than halfway through the film, and during the scene where Angie finally confesses her love to Oscar - really, you have to scoff - there’s an aggressive rapping at your front door. Before the two of you can even move, the door twists and slams open, revealing Oh Jihee. Why Namjoon had told her where the spare key to your apartment was hidden, you have no idea.

Indolently, Namjoon turns to the door, however, before he can even open his mouth to say anything, she’s already speaking. “What is happening here?” she asks, her eyes suspiciously roving over the two of you.

“Oh, ____ and I were just watching Shark Tale. Why are you here?” Namjoon asks as he slowly pulls away from you. The moment he’s off of you, the weight on top of your chest growing light, your stomach sinks in dejection.

Raising her eyebrow, she places her hands on her hips, “Because we had a date. That you’ve clearly forgotten about,” Jihee replies snarkily, throwing a scathing look towards you. You simply cock your eyebrow and scoff - it’s not your fault Namjoon forgot about his alleged date. Though, you can’t help the streak of happiness that flitters through you: he’d unknowingly chosen to spend time with you and not Jihee.

Namjoon pulls himself off of the couch and walks over to her. Then, pulling her into his arms, he presses a soft kiss against her temple. The tender gesture has you looking away, your features falling as despair settles deep within the pits of your abdomen. “Oh. Was that today? I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind. Let me go shower and get dressed quickly,” Namjoon softly apologises. Jihee’s eyes soften, and with an exasperated sigh, she nods.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she replies before kissing the corner of his mouth. Then, she beckons him away - leaving the two of you alone. As soon as he disappears into his bedroom, Jihee turns to you, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“What’s your problem?” she hisses. Cocking your eyebrow, you slip off of the couch and begin clearing the snacks from the coffee table.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you reply back coolly.

“Yes, you do. Why do you both always act like you’re a couple, when you’re not? I don’t like how comfortable you are touching my boyfriend,” Jihee seethes back. Your stomach sinks at the term, but you suppress your own sadness. It’s not like it mattered anyway - Namjoon was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend. Just your best friend. Something you reiterate to her.

“We’ve been friends since we were children - it’s just how we’ve always been,” you shrug back simply.

“Yeah, well I’d like you to stop, I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t like your relationship with him at all,” she responds, her lips pursing into a sour expression.

Snorting lightly, “yeah, well, I don’t really care. He’s my best friend, he’s not going to stop being my best friend because you don’t like our relationship. And if you have a problem with it - you can take it to Namjoon. But you and I both know he won’t like that, which is why you’re saying this to me when he’s not here,” you retort easily.

Jihee splutters for a moment, “that’s not why I’m doing it,” she protests weakly. Though, neither of you believe that for a single moment, “besides- what do you know about what he likes. I’m his girlfriend,” she snaps.

A look of incredulity paints your face at that, and with a disbelieving chuckle, “you did not just imply that you know more about him than me, just because you’re in a relationship with him,” you say.

“And what if I did? We’re together, he would have told me more. Things he can’t tellyou,” Jihee replies - although, from her own uncertain tone, you both know she’s just grasping at straws. You’ve known Namjoon for two decades - that’s a long time. The onlyperson who knows more about him than you, is his own mother. And even then, you know probably just as much as she does.

“That’s a joke right. You literally cannot be serious. You know nothing about him. Nothing,” you spit back, your anger finally getting to you. Of course, your words are said in the heat of the moment, but you mean them - because they’re true. She knows next to nothing about him - especially since you know she forces her own opinions and personality onto him. Another reason you do not like her.

“I know things!” Jihee seethes back. Her voice is slightly shrill, and loud enough that you send a quick glance at the two spare rooms. Namjoon is in the shower - so hopefully- he won’t be able to hear this argument. Hoseok’s room is shut, and you can hear the soft tempo of his music coming from behind - so you’re not too worried about him listening in either.

Turning back to Jihee, you fold your hands across your chest and regard her cooly. “What’s his favourite breakfast?” you ask, all of a sudden.

“W-what?” Jihee stutters, a look of confusion colouring her features.

“You heard me, if you know so much about him, what’s his favourite breakfast?” you repeat.

“That’s easy. Poached eggs and toast - we go to brunch all the time, you know,” she replies haughtily.

“No. It’s any sugary cereal. In particular, he likes Lucky Marshmallows with extramarshmallows. Sometimes he literally saves all the marshmallows for last just so he can eat an entire bowl of them,” you reply easily.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jihee tries to cut in but you shake your head.

“For your one month anniversary,” you begin, internally cringing - really, they’ve only been together three months, so why she had wanted to celebrate a month, you do not understand, “you booked a seafood restaurant,” you continue.

“He likes seafood!” Jihee cuts in.

“Not as food, he likes them as pets - or to collect them - but he doesn’t like eating them. You constantly want to join him on his walks - but sometimes he needs to be alone,” you begin. You don’t know why you do it, but all of a sudden, you find yourself laying into her.

Sucking in a deep breath, you continue, “I know you met him at an art exhibition, and Iknow that he loves music, and art and philosophy and I know you share those together. But those aren’t the only aspects of his personality.” Briefly, you pause, your eyes slightly tearing up. However, rather than letting it get to you, you blink them away.

“Namjoon- he’s a huge dork. He’s more than those selective interests that you’ve singled out. He grows bonsai in his spare time and names all of them and speaks to them. He easily gets distracted by different animals - like frogs, or squirrels or chipmunks - and he always needs to stop and try to pick them up. He eats spoonfuls of sugar when he thinks no one is around. He loves cute things and buys more Kaws and Ryan or Brown plushies than a grown man needs. He can be whiny, and petty, and sometimes borderline childish but it’s who he is.”

Again, you stop, your chest heaving in the slightest from your sudden rant. You have no idea what overcame you, but the moment you’d started speaking, it had felt like a dam had burst. Jihee simply stands stock still, looking at you in disbelief. Letting out a deep breath, you run your fingers through your hair. “That is who he will always be and you cannot change who he is - or pick and choose aspects that you like. If you honestly want to be with him, if you have any feelings for him - you will understand that he is perfect the way he is. You should love him for who he is,” you finally finish. Desperately, you want to throw the words ‘Like I do’ but you can’t. Instead, you left them unsaid.

With your little spiel well and truly done, silence falls over the room. Jihee regards you coldly, her eyes glazed with passiveness, and her face an expression of stoic calmness. But then, she grits her teeth, and with a low voice, “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Because he’s dating me not you,” she hisses out. Her words are low, barely above a whisper, and yet the heavy scorn tears through you. Her words cut you like a knife, leaving your chest numb and your heart aching with hurt.

Unable to say anything, you simply bite your lips. Fists clenched to the side of your body, your knuckles turn white and you simply stare at each other. Repeatedly, you open your mouth to argue - to say something - but you know she’s right. It doesn’t matter if you know Namjoon, or that you’ve been his best friend for over two years. All that matters is that he still chose her - that she’s his girlfriend.

Nonetheless, before you can say anything, Namjoon pops out of his bedroom - hair slightly damp and dressed for the day. Smiling gently at Jihee, he walks over to her before beckoning her towards the door. Jihee returns his smile, her eyes briefly flashing with smugness as she looks at you. Throat tight, you attempt to turn away. However, just as you do, Namjoon smiles tightly at you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says, before guiding Jihee out of the apartment - leaving you alone.

That night, you sit on the couch - a fluffy blanket thrown over your lap - and Hoseok beside you, as you both idly flick through your phones. The two of you sit in complete silence, Hoseok laughing quietly and showing you a funny picture on his timeline, before turning back to his own phone. Time moves past slowly, and every now and then, your gaze flicks to the entrance of your flat, and you silently wonder when Namjoon will come home. Or if he was even coming home tonight.

Nonetheless, you don’t have to wait any longer - because, all of a sudden, the doorknob is twisting and Namjoon walks through. Eyebrows scrunching in befuddlement, you watch as he drags his feet into your apartment. Shrugging off his jacket, he stays quiet, his shoulders slumped as he kicks off his shoes.

“Joon? You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice as you sit up. Namjoon only hums casually, but other than that he doesn’t say anything. Dread flits through you, your stomach dropping at his lacklustre posture.

Then, “I’m going to go to bed, yeah?” he says, before shuffling into his room. His door slams shut softly, and you feel your heart sink into your chest. You simply can’t shake off the feeling that your argument with Jihee has something to do with Namjoon’s upset. Once he’s safely behind his closed door, you blink owlishly and turn to Hoseok, the two of you looking at each other in worry.

Gaze flicking to his shut bedroom door, “Do you think something happened?” you whisper lowly as you bite your lip in nervousness.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s about your fight with Jihee,” Hoseok casually replies with a shrug. Taken aback, you look at him in a mix of trepidation and confusion. His words had only confirmed your suspicion that it was something to do with your earlier argument.

“Do you think he heard?”

Hoseok sighs at your question. “Honestly, if I heard it over my music, he definitely heard it in the shower. But- I can’t say for sure. You’re going to have to ask him yourself,” he replies - almost diplomatically.

“If he heard then I don’t think he’s going to want to speak to me right now,” you point out. However, your words only cause Hoseok to scoff.

“Please, the day Joon doesn’t want to talk to you, is the day hell literally freezes over. When have either of you ever had an argument that has lasted more than a couple of hours?” Hoseok questions, his perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising slightly.

You open your mouth to respond, before pausing. Eyebrows furrowed, you struggle to try and remember a time the two of you hadn’t spoken for longer than a few hours. You and Namjoon fight, of course you do, however, they’ve never really been serious - and you’ve always made up eventually. The two of you just couldn’t bear to be apart. Seeing the dawning look of realisation on your face, Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle.

“Exactly. Just go speak to him - I’m sure you’re overthinking it anyway,” Hoseok encourages. Smiling gently at him, you nod and throw the blanket off of you.

Padding over to Namjoon’s room, you knock on the door tentatively. From behind the wooden frame, Namjoon grunts, and taking it as a sign of entry, you walk into his bedroom. The moment you see him, you bite your lip, your heart clinching in anguish. He’s sat up in bed, dressed in his pyjamas, and casually scrolling through his phone. His speakers blear music softly, faint acoustic beats thrumming through the quiet bedroom. Stepping further into his room, you call out to him softly.

“Namjoon… is everything okay?” you ask, shuffling nervously in place.

With a sigh, “Jihee and I decided it was best to stop seeing each other,” Namjoon replies. Blood running cold, you look at him in a mixture of shock and barely concealed hope. However, swiftly, you suppress them - you need to be there for your best friend right now.

Tentatively, “You broke up? Why?” you ask.

“We weren’t really together to break up, we were just dating,” Namjoon replies. Then, eyeing your apprehensive state in amusement, “you can join me you know,” Namjoon says as he pats the spot next to him.

Breathing out in relief, you quickly cross his room and join him on the bed. You shuffle in next to him, Namjoon automatically throwing the covers over you. Once you’re settled down, you curl your hands in your lap and turn to look at him. “Do you want to talk about it? You never answered why you broke up,” you point out, your voice low.

Namjoon hums before lolling his head back to rest against the wall. He stares at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing for a couple of moments. Then, “I heard your argument with her,” he confesses.

A sad smile curls on your face, and with downcast eyes, you stare at your hands. “I feared as much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything… I just- she didn’t seem right for you, I guess,” you admit. Because I’m the right one for you. The words echo in your mind, but again, you push them far back into your head. You do not need to dwell on that right now.

“Hmm. Well, you’re right. There was too much about us that clashed… which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But at the same time, I didn’t feel comfortable being myself around her either,” he says. “I’m not upset at you or anything by the way. If anything, I’m grateful. If you hadn’t said what you had, I probably wouldn’t have realised how unhappy I was with her,” Namjoon admits with a tender smile.

“I still feel bad…” you begin.

However, Namjoon cuts you off. “I didn’t have feelings for her. She’d seen me at the museum a couple of times and asked me out. I didn’t really notice until she came up to me,” he chuckles lightly. Your eyes soften at that. Namjoon is beautiful, and if anyone were to ask you, you’d tell them that he was the ideal man. With his soft, devastatingly handsome looks, and his tender heart and enigmatic brain, Namjoon is yourideal man. But he’d never really appreciated his own charm - he never really understood why women were so attracted to him. More than anything, he barely even recognised when women flirted with him. It was endearing, really.

“Why did you say yes, then?” you ask curiously.

Namjoon pauses at that. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before turning back to the ceiling. He’d never admit it out loud, but the reason he’d said yes was because of your kiss, all those months ago. The moment he’d felt your lips on his, he’d been electrified and dazed - and for the first time in a while - his brain had completely shut down and he hadn’t been able to act. But by the time he’d processed it, ready to press his lips harder into yours and really taste you, you were already pulling away and apologising.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Namjoon knew you were the one for him. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips, and your warm breath wafting over his chin. Contrary to your beliefs, Namjoon did, in fact, notice the attention girls paid him. He just didn’t care. Mainly because his heart already belonged to you. Admittedly, falling in love with your best friend was the world’s most cliche move - but he just couldn’t help it. No one compared to you.

So when you’d pulled away like that, he couldn’t help the way his heart had yearned for you, and he knew he had to at least try to move on. Which is where Jihee had come in. Nevertheless, no matter how much Jihee loved art, or philosophy, it didn’t matter - because she wasn’t you. She’s not you and he never really could stop comparing the two of you to each other. It wasn’t fair on either of you - particularly because he knew he’d never love anyone the way he loves you. And your argument with Jihee had only cemented that.

When he’d overheard your exchange, he’d been shocked. Of course, he knew that you’d known a lot about him, but having you admit so clearly and so boldly that she should love him for him - for every aspect that made him: the good and the bad. Well, it only had him falling deeper for you. So, when Jihee had bought up your less than conventional friendship, and how the tactility between the two of you made her uncomfortable - well, he’d known he had to end it with her there.

Not only because she’d been uncomfortable with his friendship with you - really, why had she ever thought he’d give you up for her? You’ve been in his life twenty years, he’d only known her around three months - but she’d also wanted him to stop being so physical with you. Thus, Namjoon had decided it was best for the two of them to part ways. Also because, well, he’s in love with you. But that’s neither here nor there - especially since you don’t feel the same way.

At one point, he thought you had. Nonetheless, after your kiss, he’s not so sure. And he’s not willing to risk your friendship either. You mean far too much to him to risk anything without any certainty that you felt the same way.

“Joon?” you softly call out, dragging him from his own musings. “You never responded,” you continue.

Biting his lips, “Just because,” he responds. No. He could not admit his feelings for you. At the very least, not now.

It’s the middle of August, when you find yourself in Namjoon’s family’s log cabin on Jeju Island. As usual, the family had decided to take their yearly trip to the island, and like every other year, you had been extended an invite by Namjoon’s parents. His family and you are currently gathered around the garden while Namjoon’s dad barbeques some meat. Your best friend stands beside you, the two of you idly chatting with his parents.

“So, ____, are you seeing anyone?” Namjoon’s dad asks all of a sudden. The question surprises you, causing you to choke on the piece of meat you’d just been swallowing. Namjoon’s mom looks pointedly at her husband before lightly patting your back. However, she can’t help but notice the way her son stiffens beside you, his gaze narrowed onto his own plate.

Managing to swallow the piece of meat, you turn to Namjoon’s dad, “No, I’m not Mr. Kim, why?” you ask. Namjoon’s dad simply smiles, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“I was just wondering. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, after all. I know Namjoon was seeing someone a little while ago, but Yunmi mentioned they broke up,” Namjoon’s dad answers casually. Both you and Namjoon stiffen at that. Momentarily, you look at each other before looking away.

“Dad,” Namjoon begins, but swiftly, you cut him off.

“Ah, well, I’m not. I just… haven’t met the right guy yet, you know?” you reply awkwardly. You have met the right guy, he just doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. At your words, once again the two of you glance at each other before turning away. Your ears burn slightly, and picking up your chopsticks, you place another piece of meat into your mouth. From beside you, Namjoon’s gaze shifts to you briefly, a flicker of yearning flitting through his eyes.

Namjoon’s mother stares at the two of you knowingly, a soft smile gracing her face. Really, for as long as she’s known you, she’s been hoping that you and Namjoon would end up together. Yet, for years now, both her and her husband have watched the two of you dance around each other; your relationship clearly more than platonic, and yet neither of you doing anything about it. However, she knows that somehow, eventually, the two of you would end up together. She knew the day Namjoon had come home - back when he was merely sixteen - complaining about the boy you had a crush on.

“Are you sure? There’s this nice boy I know, I can introduce you to-” Namjoon’s dad begins. Instantly, Namjoon’s head snaps up and he looks at his father in a mix of despair and betrayal. Next to him, you stand rigid, your ears burning with embarrassment.

Sensing your awkwardness, “That’s enough, Hongjoon. I’m sure Namjoon and ____ don’t want to spend their time speaking about relationships. Just grill the meat,” Namjoon’s mother chastises, her husband only sending her a knowing grin in response.

“Very well, very well. Do you want some grilled shrimp, Namjoon?” Hongjoon asks, holding out a skewer of prawns towards his son. Namjoon looks at his father in horror, and quickly, you’re taking the skewer from his dad.

“Mr Kim, Namjoon doesn’t eat seafood, remember? However, I’d be happy to have them. Here, Joon, you can have this beef- I won’t be able to eat the shrimp too,” you easily say, passing over your meat towards him. Yunmi looks at her husband, knowing full well he’d done it purposely, however, Hongjoon just sends her an innocent smile before turning back to his grill. When a giggle resounds through the air, she turns her attention back to the two of you.

“Joon, how do you manage to get the sauce all over you? Honestly. Here,” you chide. Then, picking up a tissue, you gently dab the corner of his mouth. Yunmi watches the way you lean into each other, Namjoon standing completely still as he lets you wipe the sauce from his lips. Her eyes flicking over her son, she can’t help but smile at the way he softly watches you - nothing but tender love and affection present in his eyes.

Really, with how often you both act like a couple, she has no idea how you aren’t together yet. Unable to stop herself, “isn’t that adorable,” she coos. Both of you still, your hand midway in the air while Namjoon looks at his mother in annoyance. “Sorry, sorry. It just reminds me of when you both were younger, and the two of you would play house,” Namjoon’s mother reminisces.

“Mom- why would you bring that up?” Namjoon whines, his usually deep voice slightly higher than usual. You don’t say anything, instead, just biting your lip fondly. You remember those days - when you and Namjoon would run around pretending to be husband and wife, with your stuffed teddy bear playing your son. Briefly, you send him a side glance, your heart constricting within your chest. For the longest time, you’ve imagined your future with Namjoon. Though, you know it will never come to fruition.

“Because, Namjoon, you used to always run around saying that you would eventually marry ____. It’s nice to see that your friendship hasn’t changed though, and you’re still close - even if ____ has to look after you all the time,” Namjoon’s mum says, smiling playfully at her son.

Ignoring her first statement, “Hey! I look after her too, you know,” Namjoon splutters in indignation.

That has you scoffing and playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh please, let’s not forget that I almost had to take you to the ER because you got your fingers stuck in one of those Chinese finger puzzles,” you snort back.

Namjoon’s mother blinks in surprise, and a smirk curling on her face, “did he now? ____, you have to tell me all about it,” Yunmi says. The two of you let out twin - borderline terrifying - giggles, Namjoon simply groaning and throwing his head back.

He’d forgotten how close you and his mother were - and that frequently, you’d gang up against him. Though, watching the two of you easily speak to each other, he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if it came at his own expense.

Jogging down the stairs from your room, you look for Namjoon. The two of you had plans to go on a walk along the beach, however, he had yet to come and find you. Thus, growing tired of waiting for your best friend, you decide to find him yourself. Softly padding to the kitchen, you briefly pause when you realise he’s in there with his mother. She’s currently chopping carrots, Namjoon sitting at the island with a cup of tea in his hands.

“I don’t see why you don’t just do it. Your father and I have said we support you multiple times,” his mother sighs. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you find yourself hiding behind the wall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their conversation, but you simply can’t help yourself. Besides, Namjoon’s mother’s words have you growing curious about their topic of conversation.

“I’ve already told you-” Namjoon tries arguing, but his mother cuts him off mid-sentence,

“Namjoon, you keep denying it, but your father and I have watched the two of you dance around each other for years. You cannot tell me that you are just friends. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do, you know,” Yunmi says pointedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Namjoon asks, his head cocking to the side. Your stomach flips as you realise that they’re talking about the two of you. Shuffling further behind the wall, you press your back towards it as you continue listening in.

“It means that friends don’t hold hands because it feels comfortable, or they don’t wipe sauce from the other’s lips, and they certainly don’t cuddle together while sharing the same bed. Which,” Yunmi begins, emphasising her word when Namjoon opens his mouth to argue, “is not something your father and I have a problem with, by the way. We both like ____, we’ve known her for a long time. We know you’ll look after each other and you’ll be happy together. So why haven’t you done anything about it? We just want you to be happy, Namjoon,” Yunmi finishes.

You bite your lips at her words, your stomach flipping in a mixture of hope and nervousness. Fingers shaking slightly, you hold your breath as you await Namjoon’s response. Then, you hear him sigh and you feel your world crumble around you.

“Yeah, but mom, it’s not like that. We’re not like that. We’re just friends,” Namjoon replies. Harshly, you press your teeth down onto your lip, chewing it so intensely you fear you’ll draw blood. However, it’s the only thing keeping you from letting out a sob. Namjoon’s words replay over and over in your mind. Of course, you always knew he’d felt that way - but having it confirming it so casually, has your heart breaking.

Not wanting to listen in any longer, you silently turn around and rush back up the stairs - being as quiet as you possibly can. Once you’re up the stairs, you enter the room you’re currently sharing with Namjoon before softly shutting the door. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat - your breath laboured as you try to stop yourself from breaking out into sobs.

Walking further into the room, you take a seat onto the bed before whipping out your phone. In times like these, you’d usually call Namjoon to comfort you - but considering he’s the reason you’re hurt - you know you can’t do that. So, instead, you quickly open your contacts and call the next best thing - Jung Hoseok. Pressing the call button by his contact name, you lift the phone to your ear. With the phone ringing in your eardrum, you quietly will him to pick up, urgently needing someone to speak to.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s sweet voice comes across the phone.

“Hoseok,” you breathe out.

“____? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok asks, alarm evident in his voice as he hears the heavy emotion in yours.

“I’m fine… Somewhat. I just- I needed someone to speak to, and it can’t be Namjoon,” you reply breathily. Realising there’s no reason to panic, Hoseok calms down.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asks gently. His sweet voice echoes through your ears, calming you down. Other than Namjoon - Hoseok was really the only one who could soothe you when you’re upset. “Just breathe in deeply, ____. It’ll be fine,” he continues calmly. Nodding, you take in a deep breath, the lump in your throat relaxing a little.

“I just heard Namjoon tell his mother that we’re just friends… and I don’t know what to do anymore. I- I thought I’d be fine just being his friend, but after that kiss, and then Jihee-” you begin, however, Hoseok cuts you off with a yelp.

“Kiss?! What kiss?” he practically shrieks, his shrill voice causing you to wince. Though, despite the situation, you find yourself laughing.

“Ah- I forgot you didn’t know. When we were at Seoraksan, when Joon and I disappeared, we kissed. It wasn’t anything major but-” you begin.

“Nothing major?! Dude, you kissed the guy you’ve been in love with for years. That’s pretty fucking major. What happened? Why aren’t you together?” he quickly fires off, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Can we not do this now? It just happened and then I pulled away and apologised-” you try explaining.

“You apologised? Why would you do that?” Hoseok bursts out.

Sighing in annoyance, “Hoseok! That’s not the problem!” you seethe. Your voice breaks through the phone with a hiss, causing Hoseok to quieten down on the other side.

“Oh- yes. You’re right. But I will be asking for all the details later. Anyway, why did you call? What happened?” he questions once again.

“I just overheard Namjoon telling his mother we’re just friends… and I don’t know if I can be here anymore. I- it’s so hard. Pretending that I don’t want to be more and that I’m not in love with him. I just- I don’t want to be just friends anymore and it sucks,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion.

“Well, why don’t you just tell him that? Like, I’m pretty sure Joon’s in love with you too, you know?” Hoseok says softly.

Unable to help yourself, you let out a snort. “That’s really rich, Hobi. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Hey, Namjoon! I’ve been in love with you for years now and I want to be more than friends? Even though I just heard him tell his mother-” you begin ranting.

However, you stop when you hear Namjoon's deep voice tear through the bedroom: “You what?”

Blood freezing, your entire body goes rigid. The moment his voice registers in your eardrums, you whip around, your eyes wide as you spot your best friend. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Despair floods through you, your ears burning as you feel your stomach sink.

“Hoseok, I’ll call you back… I have to go,” you quickly say before hanging up. Then, turning around, you hop off of the bed, “Namjoon, it’s not-” you begin, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to think of something to say. Would you even be able to say anything? To salvage your friendship with him? Or had you just unknowingly ruined it all?

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?” Namjoon asks. Repetitively, like a broken record, the words play over and over in his mind - filling him with a mix of confusion, elation and relief.

“I- Namjoon,” you try, but Namjoon simply shakes his head. In an instant, he crosses the room - until he’s right in front of you. You jerk at the sudden movement, your neck straining as you look up at him.

“Did you mean it? Please, ____, I need to know,” Namjoon exhales deeply. Left reeling by the sheer emotion in his voice, the desperation, the yearning, the tenderness - you can’t help but blink, unable to figure out what any of it means. He looks down at you intensely, his warm brown eyes leaving you captivated.

Breathing heavily, you bite your lip. Then, gathering every ounce of courage you have, you throw caution to the wind. He’d already heard you anyway. “Yes. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” you confess - nothing but sincere earnestness present in your voice.

The minute the words leave your lips, Namjoon’s lips crash down onto yours. For a sliver of a moment, your eyes widen in shock, however, as quickly as it comes, it goes, and soon, your eyes are slipping shut.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Namjoon uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his silky appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Namjoon: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Namjoon, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavour only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hairsbreadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Namjoon doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that?” he breathes out.

“W-What…? I thought- you told your mother-” you stammer out, confused by the entire situation.

“You’re an idiot you know,” Namjoon chuckles. Instantly, your face falls, ire rising in your chest. But before you can say anything, Namjoon shakes his head and presses his lips to yours, “I’m an idiot too. This entire time, I thought you didn’t feel the same - so I kept telling myself that we were just friends,” Namjoon admits. Then, he pauses, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be more either,” he confesses.

Your heart swells with happiness, a bright grin gracing your face. Then, you still. A sliver of confusion enters your eyes, and your features knit in the slightest, “but… that day in Seoraksan… you didn’t reciprocate,” you point out. Namjoon lets out a low, mirthless laugh.

“Is that why you pulled away and apologised?” he asks. When you nod, he just sighs and shakes his head, “I wasn’t expecting it ____, and by the time I realised what was happening, you were already pulling away and apologising. But- I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to pull you closer and kiss you harder. I wanted you that day, more than you’ll know,” he admits. Face crumpling with emotion, realisation dawns over you - the epiphany crashing over you like a pile of bricks.

Laughing, “we’re idiots, aren’t we? Have we been in love this entire time?” you ask, biting your lip to try and swallow down the smile. Namjoon matches your laugh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You close your eyes and let it wash over you, the sound bringing peace to your very soul.

“Yeah, we have. But- better late than never, right?” Namjoon chuckles.

Nodding eagerly, you let out the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, “I love you,” you confess once again.

Unhesitantly, “I love you too. So fucking much,” Namjoon responds. Then, the hand gripping your neck curls tighter, and he’s dipping his head down again.

Pressing his lips to yours again, you can’t help but sigh. It’s a little different than before - slow, with a lower undercurrent of urgency. Moaning into his kiss, you press yourself harder against him, your fingers carding into the hair as the base of his neck. Gripping the roots of his locks, you attempt to deepen the kiss, Namjoon lightly chuckling into your mouth when you whine in protest. Slowly, Namjoon pulls you backwards, stopping when the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Indolently, his large hands trace along your spine, his palms trailing along your covered flesh. Every single one of his touches sets your skin aflame with desire, heat settling deep within the pits of your abdomen. Taking a step closer, you moan into his mouth when you feel his hardening shaft against the soft of your belly - involuntarily grinding against it. Your movements cause him to let out a strained grunt, and breaking away from your kiss, he groans out your name.

Lust coursing through your bloodstream, you begin peppering kisses along the sharp outline of his jaw - your lips tracing the edge. Responsively, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, his hands splaying across your ass before pulling you flush against him. The two of you writhe together - your lower abdomen squirming against the outline of his growing bulge. Fists moving to curl around his shirt, your eyelids flutter as you feel him lightly palm at your ass - his fingers flexing and gripping the supple cheeks.

Your mouth parts open, and you let out a slew of breathy moans - heat pooling deep within your loins as you find yourself growing wetter. Dipping his head down, Namjoon buries his face into the crook of your neck - his pillowy lips tenderly roving over the skin. “J-Joon,” you stutteringly whimper, your eyes rolling back when he playfully nips your skin. Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot just below your ear before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips. In the wake of his kisses and light nips, you have no doubt he’s leaving hickeys over your flesh: mauve and rose marks blooming over your skin.

Sighing under him, “I want you,” you mumble quietly.

Namjoon runs his nose down the column of your throat before outlining the shape of your collarbone. When he reaches just below your chin - where your two clavicles meet, he bites down softly - making you whimper out his name. Lazily, he flicks out his tongue, the wet appendage gliding soothingly over your stinging flesh. Then, pulling away, “I want you too,” he mutters back. His cool breath fans against your flushed skin, the wet spot on your flesh evaporating, causing you to shudder.

“Then take me,” you groan back - nothing but want and earnestness in your voice.

The moment the words slip out, Namjoon’s fingers firmly dig into your ass, and then, he’s lifting you up. Yelping at the sudden movement, you quickly brace yourself onto his shoulders, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. You feel him manoeuvre the two of you onto the bed - until you’re both in the middle. Letting you go, he gently puts you onto the bed - and when your knees are firmly against the mattress he lets you go.

The two of you kneel on the bed; your hands tracing up his toned chest - feeling every defined muscle under his shirt - and towards his face. Cupping his chin, you pull him in for another kiss - desperately needing to feel his lips against yours once again. Automatically, Namjoon dips his head down, his mouth chasing yours as both your tongues begin gliding against each other.

Feverishly, your hands begin roaming over each other - hot lust clouding your minds as your kiss grows fervent with desire. Urgently, your hands roam over each other - Namjoon’s large palms pushing under the hem of your dress and over your bare thigh under he reaches the junction between your thighs. Boldly, he presses his hand to your panty-clad folds, and the sudden touch has you breaking your kiss with a surprised cry.

Soft whine spilling from your lip, you grind into his hand, your walls clenching as you feel him softly stroke your folds. The heat between your thighs is uncomfortable, and radiates so strongly that Namjoon can’t help but hiss - the knuckle of his thumb imperceptibly caressing your throbbing clit. Skin flashing with heat, you pull away from him briefly, and before he can even comprehend what’s happening, you’re gripping the hem of your dress and taking it off of you.

The moment your scantily covered body greets his eyes, Namjoon lets out a strained groan - his eyes roaming over your flesh. Your body is not new to him - no, in fact, he’s seen you in various states of undress at different points in your friendship. Nonetheless, it’s different now; your chest heaves as you gasp for air, and your heavily lidded eyes: gaze turbulent with lust. Intense eyes rove over your body, Namjoon practically drinking you in.

Growing wetter under his heavy stare, you feel your inner walls clench - your nipples twisting to hardness under the lace cups of your bra. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Wantonness thick in your voice, Namjoon quickly sheds off his own clothing - your mouth drying when you see the muscles of his biceps bugle as he removes his t-shirt. Cool air wafts over your heated skin and goosebumps prickle over your flesh, causing you to shudder. However, it only lasts a moment because Namjoon is swiftly pulling you flush against him,

Warm skin melding together, you cry out in pleasure when your hard nipples brush against his chest through the rough material of your bra. The friction sends spikes of lust straight to your core, a gush of wetness seeping through your pussy before soaking into the material of your underwear. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Namjoon runs his soft lips over your flesh; peppering kisses onto your skin. Meanwhile, his hands move back to grasp your ass - caressing and kneading the flesh in his large palms.

Your own shaky hands push between your bodies: trembling digits falling to the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans as you attempt to undo the button. Finally managing to pop the button, you desperately push the rough material of his trousers down his hips. When you struggle to remove them from you, Namjoon pushes you away. Flopping bonelessly onto the bed as you watch him rid himself of his trousers. When he’s left in nothing but his boxers, your mouth practically salivates.

As if magnetically drawn, your eyes instinctively fall to his hips, and you suck in a sharp breath at the sight. The defined ‘v’ of his hips leads to his boxer-clad shorts - his cock pressed to the side of his thigh by his tight underwear. Throat constricting, your eyes widen slightly at the shape of it - even through his underwear, he looks huge: the thick girth pressed against his toned left thigh. As you continue practically leering at him, Namjoon crawls over you. Instinctively, your thighs part, allowing him to crawl between them.

His hands brace on either side of you, the strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. Arms shooting up, you run them over his naked shoulders before carding into his hair as you tug him further over you. A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. Hands entwined into his hair, you watch the way the ambient light encases him in an amber halo, your eyes softening at the sight.

Straining your neck, you attach your lips to his once again, pouring all the love you feel for him into your kiss. Languidly, Namjoon’s tongue slides over your lips, the motion causing you to sigh. He’s sweet on your tongue; his honeyed essence bathing your tastebuds until he’s all you can feel. This time, your lips move slowly - mouths moving softly in tandem with each other as your tongues slide against the other leisurely.

Namjoon shifts above you - the movement causes his heated erection to brush against the thin, soaked material of your underwear. Reflexively, you buck into him - causing Namjoon to hiss. Shifting above you, Namjoon’s hands trail over your thighs. Then, hooking your legs around his waist, he’s suddenly flipping you over. Yelping in surprise at the abrupt movement, you fall into him; Namjoon’s arm loosely wrapping around your naked waist.

In your new position, he sits with his back against the headboard; your thighs straddling his hips. Namjoon’s warm hand indolently drifts down your waist, until it rests comfortably in the curve of your spine. Shifting into a more comfortable position, you sit on his lap - both of you groaning when your cores press together. Responsively, Namjoon bucks up into you, the action causing you to shudder.

“Namjoon,” you whine, your hips squirming over his.

“What do you want, baby?” Namjoon asks, his neck straining up to brush his lips against yours.

“I want you,” you reply easily. A smile curls on his lips, and playfully, he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. Sucking the soft flesh, he rakes his teeth over the swollen petal, making you sough into his mouth.

Simultaneously, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, and gripping them, he pushes your pelvis down - so that your wet, covered folds are flat against his cock. The movement causes you both to cry: you - at the intoxicating feel of his throbbing cock around your weeping sex, and Namjoon - at the wet heat pressing into his hardness.

“F-Fuck, Joon,” you mewl. Hips moving of their own accord, you begin grinding your heated cunt against his hard shaft. The skimpy material of your panties hinders nothing, and easily, you feel his cock - hot and pulsing, through the material of both your underwear. Namjoon’s hands trail to your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he begins moving you over him. Instinctively, the two of you fall into a synchronous rhythm, your hips writhing together in frantic movement as you lose yourself into your pleasure.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this wet?” Namjoon groans - the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air. Fingers digging harder into your ass, he gyrates harder into you, soft grunts and pants escaping his lips as he feels your wet heat against his cock. “Fuck- that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock - you feel so good,” Namjoon moans, his head falling back. The soft murmurs of his voice rip through the silent room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingling with yours.

Your hands fall to his shoulders, and using them as leverage, you begin pushing your hips harder into his. With every brush of his cock between your folds, you can’t help but grow wetter - your toes curling in pleasure. Namjoon watches you practically bounce on his cock - the top swells of your breast rippling with each movement. Unable to help himself, he moves his hands to unclasp your bra. When you feel the elasticated band loosen, the strap falling down your shoulder, you move your hands from his shoulders - divesting the brassier off of you.

Breasts free, and swaying with every one of your movements, Namjoon finds himself entranced by the sight. From his position under you, he leans forward and wraps his lips against the right peak, pulling the hardened bud into his mouth and gently sucking. The moment you feel his plush lips around your nipple, you cry out his name. Pussy clenching around nothing, you whimper at the ache between your thighs.

“Fuck, Namjoooon,” you whine - drawing out the syllables of his name. Indolently, his tongue swirls around your nipple - tracing its outline over and over again, while he simultaneously suckles at it. His hands are back on your ass - holding the plump flesh in his large hands while squeezing and spreading them apart.

Pleasure seeps into your veins, and you begin grinding more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slip from your lips, the friction of your sodden lace panties and his cotton boxers slowly driving you wild. You have no doubt that you’re dripping now - the material of his boxers soaked enough to leave damp trails of your wetness onto the fabric. Your stomach twists - the heat inside causing your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements.

Hands braced on his shoulders, you dig your fingernails into the thick muscle - Namjoon grunting at the slight pain. When he unexpectedly bites down on your nipple, rolling the peak between his teeth - your cunt clenches painfully and you sob out his name. “M-More, please. I-I need more,” you whimper. Hearing the desperation in your voice, Namjoon takes pity on your form.

Hand slipping down between your thighs, you feel him push your hips off of his cock. A whine of protest slips through your lips, your walls clenching as they ache for the feel of his cock - however, your displeasure only lasts a few moments. Pressing his fingers against your folds, Namjoon lazily begins stroking his fingers through your covered slit - causing you to whimper out his name.

“Fuck- you’ve soaked through your panties, baby. Do you want my cock this much?” Namjoon asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. It’s all you can do to nod eagerly, you hips pressing harder into his hand.

“J-Joonie- more,” you helplessly mewl, squirming into his fingers.

Namjoon chuckles from under you, but gives into you. Pushing the gusset of your underwear to the side, his fingers stroke through your naked folds, causing you to hiss and drop your head onto his shoulder. Tenderly, Namjoon traces the outline of your folds - completely in awe of how absolutely sodden they are. He’s barely even touched your entrance, yet thick, filmy strings of your wetness coat the pads of his digits.

“God- I’ve dreamt of what your pussy would feel like - but I never thought it’d be this good,” Namjoon admits - his thumb moving to stroke your hardened clit. The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causing you to buck into him, you cunt contracting around nothing.

Twisting your hand between your bodies, you push his boxers down all of a sudden. Abruptly, his cock springs out before the heavy length falls onto his lower abdomen. In an instant, your palm is stroking the thick length, your mouth watering as you admire his shaft. The velvet length is long, and incredibly girthy, and you have no doubt that he’s going to stretch you out deliciously. Experimentally, you wrap your fingers around before gently squeezing.

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your ministration - the action eliciting a short gasp from his lips as he bucks into your hand. Dropping his head to your chest, you feel him nuzzle the top swells of your breast, while he lightly presses tender kisses into your flesh. Between your thighs, his fingers rove further down your slit, until his digits are teasing your entrance. A low mewl falls from your lips, your hips writhing into his hand as you try to get him to push his fingers into you. God, you desperately need something to fill the ache.

“Joonie- want your fingers,” you murmur, not even bothering to hide the pout in your voice. Namjoon laughs lowly under you, and with an apologetic kiss to your sternum, his digits lightly push against the tight ring of your entrance. Fingernail circling your entrance - almost tauntingly - Namjoon relishes in the way it twitches for him: the tight rings clenching and unclenching involuntarily. Growing tired of his teasing motions, “Joonie, please,” you practically beg.

The ache between your thighs throbs with a vengeance, causing you to squeeze his cock. Hand stroking up to his tip, you take a moment to admire the bulbous mushroom tip. The head is sticky with precum, your thumb swiping over the slit, wetting the tip in his own translucent precum. Rhythmically, your hand begins pumping around the rest of his shaft - your fingers tightening around his girth intermittently.

“Sh-shit. Fuck, that feels good. God, your hand feels so fucking good,” Namjoon praises. He rewards your actions by deliberately pushing two fingers into you - your wetness allowing them to slide in with ease. Drawing sharp raspy breaths from you, Namjoon shallowly begins pumping them into you - never delving deeper than the first knuckle. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. Indolently, he pumps them - matching the pace of your hand stroking his cock.

Nuzzling into your chest, Namjoon breathes in your scent deeply, relishing in the comforting smell. It’s heavier this time - the smell of your arousal and sweat mixing in with your natural one. Yet, he doesn’t mind. Not when it smells wholly inebriating. “What do you want, baby?” Namjoon murmurs. His voice is low, dropping a couple of octaves, and the baritone sound thrums against your skin: causing goosebumps to flit over your arms.

Unhesitantly, “you,” you whisper back. Letting out an appreciative groan, Namjoon slides his fingers deeper into you. With a keening whine, you begin pumping his length harder - groaning in pleasure when his fingers inside you also pick up the pace.

“You’re so fucking - shit - tight. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock,” Namjoon breathily whispers. His words cause you to clench involuntarily - your hand tightening around his shaft. God, you don’t think you can wait any longer. You need to feel him inside you. Right now. Something you express to Namjoon.

“Want your cock- Joonie, please,” you implore, pressing your lips harshly against his.

Drawing away, “fuck, okay. Let’s get these off,” Namjoon says as hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. Shuffling away from him for a moment - the both of you quickly remove your last articles of clothing: leaving you completely naked.

With not a moment to spare, Namjoon wraps his hands around your thighs, before pulling you back onto his lap. Hastily, you throw your leg over his hip, straddling him once again. One hand on your ass, and other gripping his shaft, Namjoon strokes the velvet head of his cock through your folds: the tip dragging over your clit before catching on your entrance. You hiss at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you feel it press against your entrance.

When he’s firmly positioned at your dripping hole, you slowly begin lowering yourself onto him. The moment his head breaches your walls, however, you let out a deep, guttural groan. Completely doused in your wetness, his cock should slide easily into you - however, his girth is so thick that you can’t help but mewl in pain. Squirming over him, your breath turns laboured as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock - the ache of the stretch burning your walls, the pain mingling with pleasure.

“Fucking hell- how are you this- fuck- big?” you keen, your eyes screwing shut. Namjoon leans forward - the movement causing him to sink another inch into you and making you gasp. Dropping his head to your neck, he peppers comforting kisses into your skin while his hand soothingly rubs over your lower back.

Nonetheless, there’s pleasure mixed in the pain and you continue lowering yourself onto his cock. Inch by inch, you take him into you - his cock slowly opening up your walls around his unrelenting length. With every second that passes, you feel his cock drag deliberately against your inner walls - your cunt clenching rhythmically - and forcing you to feel every ridge and vein of his thick girth. Eventually, you sink completely down - your hips pressed against his - and his cockhead kissing the soft walls of your cervix.

There’s an intense pressure deep within your stomach - Namjoon’s cock throbbing erratically inside you. The feel of him nestled so deep within you has you sighing in pleasure. There’s still a dull ache - from how wide he stretches you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits - but pleasure soon replaces the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjust to Namjoon’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cry out in pleasure.

“God, your pussy is so fucking tight - and wet - shit,” Namjoon slurs - euphoric elation dripping in his words. Breath laboured, you begin lifting yourself over his cock, your back arching - pushing your chest into you - as you ride his tremendous length. With every flex of your thighs, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only is Namjoon’s cock thick, but he’s incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: allowing his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands falling to your hips, Namjoon grips them tightly as he helps you move on top of him. Every movement has hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curling in elation while your stomach twists and knots violently. The rapturous bliss of your impending orgasm calling to you, you begin bouncing your ass over him. Namjoon groans at the feeling, and unable to help himself, one of his hand moves to splay across the curve of your back - pulling you flush into his chest.

Skin melding together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lose yourself into the feel of Namjoon. Abruptly, your arms shoot out and you wrap them around his chest, your fingernails digging into his flesh as you hold him close to you. With his cock buried deep into you, and his head buried in the crook of your neck - Namjoon is all you can feel. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, your nose burrowing into the side of his head as you breathe in his calming scent deeply.

From under you, Namjoon fucks his cock upward - his thrusts pushing him deeper into you. The additional sensation causes you to whimper, your ass twitching as sheer, unadulterated bliss begins flitting through your bloodstream. You’re close - so close you can practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth is completely dry from gasping his name over and over again.

Feeling your walls begin to pulsate erratically - the rhythm of their contracting falling out of sync - Namjoon knows you’re close. All of a sudden, he pulls you even closer to him - a feat you had considered wholly impossible, considering you’re clinging to each other - and then, he’s flipping you over. Squealing in surprise, you feel your body bounce on the bed, before Namjoon falls over you.

The entire time he moves your bodies, his cock stays buried deep inside your pussy - your walls involuntarily clenching around his shaft. In your new position, Namjoon’s entire weight is braced on one hand beside you, his other hand resting on your back - under your body - as he pulls your chest into his. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. With your new positioning, every time Namjoon thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your clit: making you cry out his name in pleasure.

“J-J-Joon, I-I-I’m c-close,” you stutter out, your back arching as you push your hips into his.

Nodding above you, Namjoon gasps and pants for air. “Fuck baby, me too,” he replies. Legs shooting out, you wrap them around his hips, and heels digging into the fleshy globes of Namjoon’s ass, you pull him deeper into you.

Slowly, yet fervently, the two of your rock into each other - chasing your own highs. You cling desperately to him, your arms still holding onto his shoulders as you writhe together. Then, needing to feel his lips on yours, you strain your neck and press your mouth to his. Instantly, his mouth opens, and your tongues begin lashing against each other leisurely - Namjoon’s intoxicating essence coating your tastebuds.

One of his hands twist between your body before you feel him stroke your clit. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips: your breaths heavily intermingling together. “Cum for me, baby,” Namjoon urges. His command, paired with the way his fingers dance across your clit, and how his cock drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure.

Mouth falling open, your muscles strain as you choke out a cry of euphoria. Head lolling back, your back arches violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under Namjoon. Rapturous ecstasy ricochets through your entire body, your muscles trembling violently as you cum around his cock. Feeling your pussy tighten in a vice-like grip, your inner walls gushing with wetness as you milk his shaft, Namjoon lets out a deep roar. His own head falls onto your chest, and with a few more thrusts, he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can before he cums.

Through the haze of your pleasure, you feel Namjoon’s cock swell inside you. All of a sudden, his cock begins throbbing - and then you feel it. Rope after rope of thick cum shoots inside you, his seed filling up your inner walls and painting them white. His warm cum fills you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Once he’s done, you feel him soften inside you - and slowly, Namjoon pulls out.

You whine in protest, your walls a little raw from his thick girth - and when he retreats completely, you can’t help but jerk: his head popping out of you. Instantly, his cum begins leaking out, causing you to mewl in pleasure - your entrance throbbing and only forcing more of his cum out. Namjoon sits back on his heels, both your chests heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

From his position, his eyes drop to your pussy - a low groan of appreciation resounding from deep within his throat. Your legs are spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he’s more focused on how his cum leaks out of you, his seed dripping down your ass. Chest swelling with pride, he can’t help but let out a lazy smile.

Leaning forward, he presses one hand onto your inner thigh, while the other swipes two fingers between your slit, gathering up his cum, and pushing it back into you. You wince at the sensation, a low groan slipping from your throat at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Namjoon mumbles, even as he continues pushing his fingers inside you.

“Later, I’m tired,” you murmur back whinily. When the ache of oversensitivity gets too much, you bat Namjoon’s hand away before closing your legs. With a low laugh, Namjoon presses an apologetic kiss to your knee.

Then, he flops down next to you. Feeling your best friend settle next to you, you automatically shift in bed - turning and curling into his body. Instinctively, Namjoon’s strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Hazily, your head still swimming in its post-orgasmic bliss, you feel Namjoon push your hair out of your face. You smile softly at the tender gesture, your smile widening when you feel him brush his lips against your temple affectionately.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers.

Shuffling closer into him, you press your naked body into his. Easily, your legs tangle together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you.

Sleep already fogging your mind, “I love you too,” you mumble back. Then, after a short pause, “we’re together right…?” you murmur. Namjoon laughs at the slight slur to your voice.

Lazily, he picks up your hand, and entwining your fingers together, he brings them to his lips. Pressing his lips to each of your knuckles in a soft kiss, he nods, “we’re together, baby,” he replies. Sighing in pleasure, you nod happily before snuggling into him. Breathing in his scent, you let the mix of fabric softener, lotion and sweat waft over you - the cacophony of fragrances slowly lulling you to sleep.

Hours later, you and Namjoon wake up from your nap - just in time for dinner. With little giggles, you and Namjoon begin cleaning yourselves up - your face scrunching when you wipe the dried up cum between your legs with the damp washcloth Namjoon had given you. Walking over to your suitcase, you pull out a change of underwear, before slipping on your dress from earlier; Namjoon’s face falling when your body is hidden from his view.

“Why are you pouting?” you ask, throwing your hair into a ponytail as you turn around to face him.

“I miss looking at you, already,” Namjoon replies, an exaggerated pout on his face. Rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over to him and press a kiss to his lower jaw.

Then wrapping your arms around his neck, “Well, I miss looking at you too… but, we have all the time later tonight,” you say. Then, you grow quiet. Sensing the nervousness exuding from your being, Namjoon gently places his hands on your hips, before lightly caressing them in comfort. “And… for the rest of our lives,” you continue, the words leaving you in a single breath. There’s uncertainty in your eyes, because really, neither of you had spoken about what you are - you’d just fallen into bed after your confession.

Gaze softening, Namjoon drops his lips to your forehead. “For the rest of our lives,” he repeats - confident resolve heavy in his tone. His words cause a smile to grace your face. Beaming up at him, you draw onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then, pulling away, you take one of his hands into yours, and entwining your fingers together, you tug at him, “alright, come on. We need to go down for dinner before your parents come looking for us,” you say.

Namjoon nods, and the two of you slip out of your bedroom and back downstairs. With each passing moment, you feel dread pool heavily into your stomach. Nervousness grips your entire being, and desperately, you cling tighter to Namjoon - soaking in all the comfort your boyfriend - boyfriend! - offers you. Finally, the two of you step into the kitchen. Immediately, both of Namjoon’s parents turn to him - however, before they can greet you, they halt.

Instantly, their gaze drops to your entwined hands. Time moves past slowly - the seconds passing excruciatingly. The longer they’re silent, the more nervous you grow. Then, after what feels like aeons, Namjoon’s parents both smile.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, “well… finally,” Namjoon’s mother says, a knowing smile on her face.

a/n: thank you i love my man

⇥ Kofi | Masterlist