#this made me realize too how they have like no concept concept of months passing or holidays wailing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lxclerc · 2 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

SUMMARY: daniel will never allow himself to love you but you’ll never let yourself not love him. REQUESTED: nope WARNING: significant age gap (reader is 20, daniel is 27), suggestive language but no smut, christian horner but i actually made him bearable, forbidden love, angst PAIRING: rbr!daniel ricciardo x horner!reader WORD COUNT: 7.5k

NOTE: you guys don’t understand, this has been in my drafts for months and i’ve been struggling to finish it for so long. DISCLAIMER: this is completely inspired by @yungbludz dr3 fic called "too young" so the idea and concept belongs to her!

please don't be a ghost reader bc i am starved for validation!

— next part

MASTERLIST

if you wanted me then you really should have showed.

Daniel knew he shouldn’t have continued it. The first moment he laid his eyes on you and you flashed him that smile, he knew he was fucked. You were young and you’ve always looked at him with those adoring eyes. It was addicting, Daniel quickly realized. You and everything about you was addicting to him.

Daniel also knew that it was his job to stay away, to make sure there’s distance between the two of you. He’s the older one after all. You have just turned 20 and he’s venturing into his 30s. Daniel thought he could treat you like any other, not fall for you the way he knows he is, but it’s impossible to not return your smiles and even more impossible to stay away.

And god, it wasn’t like you made it easy for him. You aren’t stupid nor are you naive, but you’re armed with your youthful recklessness, pushing and pushing at him till he breaks. The way you run into his arms every other race, celebrating him no matter the result. The way your touch lingers just a second too long to be appropriate or how you angle your body fully towards him whenever you talk. The two of you were dancing about just how far you can go and how far Daniel would allow you.

You’re stubborn though, your recklessness and the excitement getting the best of you. You’re determined to make Daniel break one way or another, determined to get what you want.

Entering the red bull motorhome, no one pays you any mind. They’re used to your presence, following your father around paddock to paddock and so they pay you no mind as you pass by Max’s driver’s room on the way to Daniel’s. You don’t bother knocking, already knowing he’s alone.

Daniel was in the middle of zipping down his race suit, turning around to find you quietly slipping into his room, a small smile on your face as you wrap your arms around his torso, your face against his back.

Daniel released a shaky breath at your sudden closeness, shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. It’s his job, he reminds himself. His job to keep you away. His job to not selfishly keep you to himself and so he gently removes your arms, turning to your pouting face.

“Be a good girl,” he all but muttered, not realizing that those words only make you want to push more.

“You did great,” you say instead, allowing him to step away from you. Everyone knows about your little crush on Daniel. Or at least that’s what they think it is, a phase, a school girl crush. You’re relentless, flirting and teasing, hand on his thigh, chin on his shoulder, a chaste kiss on his cheek. Always pushing till Daniel can feel himself slowly breaking, what’s left of his resistance chipping away.

Oftentimes when you tease him, Daniel does his best to laugh it away. “Maybe in ten years, kiddo.” he’d say, loving the way your lips pout at him.

But despite himself and what he should be doing, Daniel teases you too. He teases you by placing his hand too low on your back, his lips brushing against your ear when he’s whispering something. His touch is always firm on your skin, holding you back, keeping you in place. Daniel thinks he’s doing the noble cause of keeping you an arm’s length away but his body demands your presence, unable to fully push you away.

He could have told you to stop. He knows this and so do you. But he doesn’t because Daniel may be acting all self righteous but the thought of you pouring all your affection and attention to someone else was unbearable for him. It’s selfish he knows but you’re so intoxicating, so addicting. He can’t bear losing you but his guilty conscience can’t bear having you either.

He throws a smile at you, your adoring eyes making his heart flutter. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You situate yourself on the couch, watching as he continues zipping down his race suit. This is why you don’t stop because you know he wants you too. He wants you as much as you want him. You watch his back muscles flex as he removes his fireproofs off, slipping on a fresh shirt. You stay because he lets you. You’re here because he lets you be here. How can anyone ever say that Daniel Ricciardo isn’t as besotted to you as you are to him?

You smirk lightly as he faces you. “Maybe we can celebrate it over dinner.”

Your tradition of asking him out and his tradition of rejecting you had him laughing as he sat down on the sofa next to you, legs spread out as he placed a hand on your knee. “Maybe when you’re old enough, angel, I’ll go on a date with you.”

You pout lightly, shifting so you’re fully facing him. A smudge of lipstick on your lower lip and your eyes big as you stared at him. You grab his hand from your knee, entwining your fingers together as you bring his hand to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckle, your lips soft against his skin. Daniel inhaled a deep breath, swallowing as he watched you. How could he ever think he can stay away?

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, a warning. You’re pushing too far, touching him far too gently.

You grinned, schooling your face into a perfect vision of innocence if only you’re able to rid that mischievous glint in your eyes that Daniel adores so much. He rarely ever calls you by your name, always a variation of a pet name or another either in that soft voice as if you’re a doll he’s terrified of breaking or the quiet warning voice letting you know that you’re pushing too far. Your favorite though, is when he’s drunk and far too intoxicated to even care about right from wrong, his arm wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you flush against his side, fingers gently grazing your face as he actually says your name. His voice is husky and always full of lust and adoration.

“God, Y/N,” he’d breathe against your ear, lips grazing your earlobe. “You’re going to kill me someday.”

“Daniel,” you mocked but nevertheless you return his hand on your thigh and if you placed it just a little bit higher, no one has any proof. Everyone thinks your infatuation with Daniel is just a phase, a young woman being enamored by an older man, everyone has heard that story before. Even your father never took it seriously and by their ignorance, they never noticed the way he looks at you and the way he lets you touch him. Daniel doesn’t touch you, at least not enough and not in the way you want him too. The hand on your thigh or knee or back always remains firmly planted there but Daniel does let you touch him. “I’ve never heard of such an uptight winner.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

It may be Daniel’s job to keep you away but he never did say he’s good at it. He doesn’t stop you as you shift closer to him, your hand placed on the crook where his jaw meets his neck as your lips gently pressed against the side of his lips. Close enough to know that you taste like strawberry chapstick and the coffee you drank earlier. Close enough to make him want more.

Maybe if everyone knew how the two of you acted when you’re alone then they’d be more concerned. All they’ve ever seen is Daniel shooting you down and rejecting you with a joke. They’ve never seen the way he watches your lips, hand squeezing your thigh as you hold him in your palms.

The truth is that Daniel has given you full control of him and his body. He may warn you and he may stop you sometimes but he’s a selfish man. He wants you so desperately, like a man starved or a moth dangerously drawn to the flame. If you asked nicely enough with that sweet voice of yours, Daniel would grant you anything.

You pull away before he can say anything, grinning as he groans. You grab his hand, pulling him up with you. The way he towers over you gives you a different kind of satisfaction. Knowing he can do whatever he wants with you has you hooked. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

“You’re cruel,” he tells you, his hand lightly pushing your hair back. “Absolutely cruel.”

You go on your tiptoes, placing your hand on his chest as Daniel slightly leaned down. Pressing a feathery kiss on his neck, you whispered against his skin. “Maybe if you tell me what you want.”

Daniel stiffened, his hold on you turning from gentle to stiff. “I shouldn’t want what I want.”

“That’s not my problem then.” With that, you pull away from his touch, throwing his door open as you all but skipped out of his drivers room, claiming victory. There’s nothing more exhilarating for you than getting a reaction out of him. Nothing gives you more satisfaction than watching him lose his grip on that resistance he’s stubbornly clutching.

You appear on your father’s side, a wide grin on your face that had Christian narrowing his eyes at you. “Were you bothering Daniel again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N,” your father said in that tone that you know so well. It’s his not quite disappointed but still disapproving tone. He’s used it when trying to tell you off or discipline you. “You have to get over your little crush.”

Your grin only widens as you meet Daniel’s frustrated eyes across the room. He’s trying hard not to seem bothered, usual infectious smile on his face as he tries to avoid your gaze or the tightness in his pants. You only planted a chaste kiss on Christian’s cheek, not saying anything else before you’re out of the motorhome.

If only they knew.

but we were something, don’t you think so?

When you arrived at the party, half the team was already drunk out of their minds. Max saw you first, a smile pulling at the boy’s lips as he embraced you. Others may disagree due to their unwarranted hatred for him but you find Max to be incredibly perceptive and thus a great friend. He knew there was something real between you and Daniel the first time he saw the two of you act around each other. He’s incredibly sensitive to the people around him and not at all like the cold, detached driver the media portrays him as.

“I’m surprised you’re not as drunk as the rest of them,” you told him with a smile.

“I think Daniel is going to kill me with his mind,” Max jokes as his arm stays around you, the aussie across the room with the mechanics and engineers, dark eyes trained on you.

Daniel raised his glass up as your eyes met, the redness in his face told you he’s already halfway drunk. You feel a flutter of excitement at his invitation. You loved Daniel most like this, a little drunk but not too drunk, enough to let go of all of his reservations when it came to keeping you at an arm’s length.

“I’ll see you later,” you tell Max with a smile, squeezing his hand before you slip out of his hold. Max playfully rolls his eyes, already knowing where you’re going but you pay him no mind, making your way across the room to where Daniel stood.

Daniel, already tipsy like the rest of the bar, immediately laid his claim as his arm sneaked around you, pulling you to his chest disguise as a greeting hug, perhaps not looking much different from the one you and Max had just shared if it isn’t for his cold lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling away from you but keeping his hand situated on the small of your back. He has to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t but with you looking like that, it’s practically impossible for him not to.

With that same mischievous glint in your eyes, you lightly smirk at him. “Just beautiful?”

“I’d say ravishing but I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that,” he admits, taking a swig of his drink to which he offers to you.

You practically preen under his half drunk confession, happy that the little white dress you put on did as it’s supposed to. “Considering we’re in Austin, I don’t think you should be offering me a drink, Mr. Ricciardo.”

“Right. Forgot you’re a little baby,” he says, hand slipping a little lower. There’s a certain mockery in his voice but perhaps not aimed at you but rather on him, being reminded once again just how young you are.

But of course, you being you, took it as a challenge, grabbing the drink out of his hand, chugging it all down in one go. You try hard not to let the bitter taste show on your face, having the urge to spit it all out but instead, you grinned smugly at him, your arms wrapping themselves around his waist as the dark club lighting gives you a false sense of confidence. “What was that?”

Daniel practically groans at your sudden closeness, your scent overwhelming his senses and his spinning mind but he doesn’t push you away. It doesn’t even enter his mind, morality and logic being thrown out the window after a few glasses of alcohol. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna get me in trouble.”

And god, the thoughts running through his mind as you stare up at him like that with big adoring eyes and pouty lips that looks so fucking kissable is enough to get him locked up. “Let’s make it worth it then.”

With that, you grab a bottle of what you assume to be vodka from the table the members of the team are occupying and then his hand with your free hand, pulling him away from the crowd and into the hallway leading to the toilets. The club, a high end one known for its VIP guests, thankfully has clean toilets as you pull Daniel inside, not even caring what it must look like.

“I know I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to fuck you in a bathroom,” he tells you immediately.

You roll your eyes as you shut the door behind you, making sure to lock it. Usually, Daniel makes a point not to use such vulgar words with you and the sound of his breathy voice along with the visualization he presented in your mind was enough to cause a shiver.

The thought of you with your dress bunched up your waist, his hands all over your skin, in places you’ve been dying for him to touch, had your cheeks turning a bright red, lust mixed with the alcohol you gulped down fogging your mind.

Daniel must be thinking of the same thing as he buries his hands deep into his pocket, taking a step back from you – which isn’t much considering the tight space you’re in. The thought of you on your knees for him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as you look up at him with those eyes was enough to have him straining his jeans. His usual light eyes looked a shade darker as he studied your features, as if making a point to put space between the two of you in a way to prevent himself from touching you.

You took your time opening the bottle, using it as a way to stoll as you avoided his eyes. “Don’t worry, my intentions doesn’t involve seducing you into fucking me in a club bathroom.”

“Could have fooled me, baby.” Daniel all but scoffs from your words but says nothing else as you lean against the sink, taking a sip of the vodka that immediately had your face scrunching in disgust before you offer it to him.

“It’s unfair that I don’t get to drink at all, don’t you think so?” You tease lightly, a weak excuse but you know Daniel would accept it rather than speak your real reasons out loud.

Speaking it out loud is dangerous. Speaking it out loud is admitting it to himself along with the fact that he hadn’t exactly stopped you as you pulled him away, his own hand gripping yours minutes ago as you navigate your way through the throng of people.

So instead, he accepts the vodka and takes his own swig, much smoother than you had. “I can’t believe I’m aiding underage drinking.”

You grin at him again. You both know he would do anything you ask without asking them. He’s weak, puny with your touch and how being with you makes him feel as though he’s going 250 miles per hour. There’s a certain adrenaline that comes with you, a certain thrill of knowing he shouldn’t be there, that he shouldn’t be letting you touch him.

He is but a man after all and god knows he’s a man fueled with desire – desire for your lips, your body, for you. How is he meant to say no when you’re looking at him like that?

You reach forward, pulling him by his shirt. You’ve always been a lightweight and he’s drunk enough that his hands found themselves on your hips. “You know, if you’re never going to go out with me, you should kiss me at least once. Maybe I’ll move on after that.”

Daniel raised a teasing eyebrow. The thought of you moving on from him didn’t exactly give him pleasant feelings but he plays it off. “Is that so?”

“Hmm,” you agree, innocently nodding your head along. “Since you won’t fuck me.”

His finger pushed back your hair back, exposing your neck for him to plant feathery kisses on, his lips causing you to stiffen. You hadn’t actually thought he’d indulge, thinking he’s already used to your suggestive teasing at this point but Daniel must be drunker than you thought as his hold on your hip tightened, pushing you against his body.

“Such a fucking tease,” he muttered, tongue swiping along the sensitive skin on your neck. “I’d ruin every other boy for you if I fuck you, baby, and that just doesn’t seem very fair.”

Your breath is shaky as your hand slipped from under his shirt, feeling the defined lines of his abs. You half expect him to push you away as he had before but Daniel’s far too gone to care, your touch going straight into his most sensitive nerves.

“Could you actually?” You tried to sound smug but your voice came out shaky as Daniel’s hand slipped down your bare thigh.

Daniel placed his forehead against yours, his conscience desperately fighting to hold on to his logic but it’s like the taste of your skin had him going crazy and he can’t help but wonder if the taste of you is as sweet as you look.

“Not here,” he says with a breathy groan, his want eventually winning over his logic. “Wanna be stone cold sober for that.”

It’s your turn to groan, so incredibly wet you can feel it pooling on your underwear. “Now who’s the tease?”

You practically let out a grunt of protest as he moves away from you, returning the space between the two of you as he once again buried his hands deep into his pockets. You roll your eyes at his resistance, taking another swig of vodka.

“Behave,” he tells you lowly.

You throw your hand up in innocence, begrudgingly accepting that you’ll have no choice but to stay on your side of the small bathroom.

if my wishes came true, it would have been you.

For the longest time, you had been content with whatever the two of you had. You were both addicted to the thrill of practically sneaking around, knowing glances and lingering touches. You knew it wouldn’t be possible. Daniel would never allow himself to fully fall for you but you can’t help but want it anyway.

Your life continued on as it is with you teasing him every chance you got, him rejecting you with a joke to try and pull the pout of your lips. Everyone would laugh – mechanics, engineers, your father and you’d pretend to sulk before a smile eventually paints your face.

You like the game. You like being the only one knowing the meaning of his stares. You like that when you’re alone, he can’t handle not touching you. You like the challenge and the continuous pushing till one of you breaks. You’ve always been patient, a little cunning, biding your time as you kept your eyes on the prize. You don’t mind waiting. You don’t mind the half confessions and the hesitant, regretful touches.

During the summer break, you hadn’t hesitated to text Daniel every chance you got, even calling him at night when you know your parents and your siblings are asleep. You would have worried about bothering him if only his reply didn't immediately come and your calls barely had time to ring.

You know he likes talking to you too. He would have told you otherwise. He keeps up with your flirting and teasing, listening as you talk about your day. Sometimes when you say you miss him, he says it back with that tone in his voice – helpless, as though missing you renders him defenseless.

The race after the summer break, Daniel hadn’t hesitated to hug you just as tight as you did him despite the people around you. Everyone but Max didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a friendly hug between two friends who hadn’t seen each other for a while.

That same night, after the high of the race, you’re waiting in the car with him as everyone packs up. You’re waiting for Max and your father, scrolling through your phone as Daniel draws circles on your knee.

“I have something to tell,” he says after a while, making you look up at him.

It’s dark inside the car but you can still see Daniel’s profile as he faced you. “Yeah?”

“I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Christian,” he starts, the sentence immediately had you tensing up. Rumors about Daniel’s future had been circulating around all month. His contract would be ending soon and every team’s desperate to have him. You always thought that was all it was though; rumors. You knew there had been tension between who’s first driver and who’s second but you always thought Daniel would renew his contract.

“Don’t,” you say immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach at the mere thought of it.

Daniel’s hand on your knee stops, offering you a smile when he sees the sadness in your eyes. “We’ll still see each other. It’s not like I’m going away. We’ll still see each other around the Paddock.”

Tears suddenly blurred your vision. Daniel would be leaving Red Bull and you along with it. “It won’t be the same.”

Daniel was a little taken aback by your tears. He’s never seen you cry before and he quickly decides that he doesn’t like the sight. “We’ll still be frie–”

“Don’t you dare say friends,” you warn. “We aren’t just friends, Daniel, and you’re lying if you say otherwise.”

His movements halted, the silent fury in your voice impossible to miss. The two of you never actually spoke of whatever you are. All of it remains unspoken, a silent agreement and he never thought you’d bring it up so easily. “Y/N–”

But at that exact moment, the car door opened, cutting him off as you immediately pushed his hand away, trying your best to discreetly wipe your tears. Your father was focused on his phone, oblivious to the tension he had just walked into but Max, who obviously saw how Daniel was touching you, could see your tear stained cheeks.

He tries to get your attention to silently ask you if you were okay, but you stubbornly stare down at your phone, ignoring Daniel’s worried glances being thrown at you.

“Y/N,” Christian says, finally looking up from his own phone to you. By then your tears have dried and the darkness in the car hides your red eyes. “Your mother was asking if you’re coming home. I already told her that you’re staying till next week–”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice a little shaky. If Daniel hadn’t spent every night thinking about you, he wouldn’t have noticed it either. “I want to go home.”

You kept your eyes forward despite Daniel’s stare at the side of your head.

Your father’s eyebrow creased. “I thought you said you wanted to stay till Monza?”

“I changed my mind,” you say. “I’d like to go home. As soon as possible please.”

Christian stared at your face. You might think he didn’t notice but he is your father. He knows something, something that made you immediately want to get away and if you want to leave then he wouldn’t stop you. He nods finally, “alright. I can have a flight fixed for you later. I’ll let your mum know.”

You force a smile on your face, still completely ignoring Daniel’s stare. “Thanks, dad.”

Throughout the night, you ignore Daniel. You don’t answer his texts or calls nor open the door for him. Perhaps it’s childish but the thought of him leaving you hurt much more than you wanted to admit. It felt like a betrayal. You always believed there was something more between the two of you, something unspoken and unsaid. Sure, you liked to play but you genuinely did believe it was something real. It feels as though he was abandoning you, choosing to run rather than face whatever’s been brewing between the two of you for months.

He’s going to leave you and you’re starting to realize that maybe you are young and naive like he always implied you were. Maybe everything was just your imagination and he feels nothing for you at all. Maybe you’re just a stupid teenager to him, playing you on his palm.

But that doesn’t sound right either. Daniel would never. Even if he doesn’t share your feelings, he would never do that to anyone, much less you.

Eventually though, he stops knocking on your door and your phone chimes with another text saying he’ll give you space, reminding you that you know where he is when you’re willing to talk again. And like the previous messages before that, you ignore it. Instead, you pack up your things and head straight to the airport.

As you watch the scenery change till the view of home comes around, you feel as though you’ve just got your heart broken, once again feeling like a teenager after your first breakup with your first boyfriend. But somehow it hurts more.

The next few days aren’t much different. You ignore Daniel’s messages and calls, throwing yourself into spending as much time with your little siblings as possible. During your time away from the paddocks and from him, the ache in your chest doesn’t subside but you do manage to put your childishness away, your logic returning to you.

At first, you stubbornly held on to your belief that he’s abandoning you, easier to paint him the bad guy to give yourself the justification of being angry at him. He says you can remain friends and that you’d still see each other around the paddock, still spend time together, but you knew it would be different. Your schedules wouldn’t be the same. You wouldn’t have any reason to follow him around throughout the day. You would lose him, spend much less time with him. You’d no longer have little moments in his drivers room or loud laughs in the plane.

It would be different – the kind of different that you don’t like but despite it, you know your actions are unjustified and childish. Max is a great driver and he’s meant to do great things. It’s obvious that red bull is investing more time on him and you know that Daniel doesn’t deserve that. Daniel doesn’t deserve to settle with being second to Max. He was doing it for his career and you’re making it about you

And so despite your aching heart and the sinking fear in your stomach that you’d lose what little of Daniel he gives you, you eventually come to the conclusion that you owe him an apology. He doesn’t deserve to be ignored by you when he’s only doing what’s best for him and his career.

So after two weeks of ignoring him, you decide to put away your pride and call him back. However, anyone who knows you knows it’s your ego that drives you. You’re as competitive and as arrogant as your father. You don’t like being told no or admitting your mistakes. Wasn’t that why you’re still chasing Daniel?

And so you spend the entire day making excuses after excuses – whether it be playing with your sister in the pool or taking your brother to the park. You made excuses and scenarios that would keep you away from your phone.

Though as you open twitter, you realize maybe it’s for the better. The words before you are glaring and piercing accompanied with a picture that makes you want to throw your phone against the wall. The account that posted it is an F1 gossip account, one that you followed months before mostly as a joke after a particularly hilarious fake rumor about Max. You absolutely regret not unfollowing it now though as the photo that greeted you is one of Daniel, wearing one of his party shirts and looking a little drunk as he exits what appears to be a club, a woman whose face you can’t see properly is behind him, their hands entwined and their heads bowed.

“Red Bull driver Daniel Ricciardo seen leaving a club holding hands with a mystery woman.” The caption cruelly said, making you want to vomit as your chest suddenly felt heavier.

That night, you locked yourself in your room. This was worse than him leaving Red Bull. This is worse than any high school heartbreak you’ve been through. You were right after all. You are just a child to him. He played you so well. And like a naive idiot, you fell right for it.

You were wrong. Daniel is that kind of person. He feels nothing for you. There was never anything real between the two of you. You had imagined everything, so desperate for him that you’ve fooled yourself into thinking that he might feel the same.

At the end of the day, no one can be blamed but you. Your own stubbornness to let him go eventually being the cause of your heartbreak.

Max calls you. You know he knows and he knows that you know. He leaves you a bunch of messages as well. Eventually though, you realize he’s just being a good friend checking on you and so you send him a text assuring him you’re okay. Your mother calls you for dinner, you claim you're not hungry, not even opening the door for her. An hour later, she calls for you again, mentioning you hadn’t had lunch. You assure her you’re okay. Your father texts you, asking if you’re fine as your mother let him know that you aren’t eating. You tell him you’re just tired. Two hours later, your mother sends in your little sister, your known weakness. You eventually give in, unable to resist her adorable toddler face as you accept a sandwich.

Daniel calls you. He texts you too. He spams all of your social media. Far too tired, you shut off your phone, placing it screen down on your bedside table as you cry the night away.

A week passes and little by little, your sadness turns to anger. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he’s leaving or he doesn’t want you back. The only thing that matters is to get even. After you read your siblings a bedtime story, you open your phone for the first time in a week, ignoring the multitude of notifications coming in, nearly all from Daniel, and dial your father’s number.

You tell him you miss formula 1. You ask if you can join for the next few races. Not having heard from his eldest for an entire week, he’s more than happy to have everything fixed for you and the next day, you’re on a plane to Belgium.

You arrive on a Friday morning and despite your body craving sleep, you hop into the shower, making a point to perfect your makeup and curl your hair to perfection. You wear a white flowy, backless dress that barely reaches your thigh – casual enough to not have anyone question you but revealing enough to turn heads.

You’re a woman scorned with a mission in mind. If Daniel doesn’t want you, well then you’re just gonna have to show him what he’s missing.

When you step into the Red Bull Motorhome, it’s half an hour before quali. Immediately, Daniel who’s squatting in a corner with headphones on, turns to you, his eyes slightly widening as it meets yours. You look like you walked out of a daydream and Daniel can feel his heart mending and breaking even more at the sight of you.

The past month without you has been complete hell. Every after race, he always expects to find you sneaking into his drivers room only to be disappointed each time. He never thought how much you’re integrated into his day till he had to adjust without you in it. His hand craves to touch you, his arms craves to hold you. Your fading scent in his clothes haunt him with each day that passes.

Now though, you’re back and Daniel swears you’re a devil sent from his very own personal hell to torment him. But he never was good at ignoring temptation as he pulled himself up, making a beeline towards you. Your presence, your scent, you overwhelm him as he stands in front of you, his hands itching to reach forward and pull you towards his chest.

“Y/N,” he starts, voice breathy as though he can’t quite believe that it’s you. He’s gotten so used to imagining you in order to cope with missing you that actually having you so close again feels like a fever dream.

“Good luck out there,” you say and the sound of your voice after so many weeks is enough to cause him shivers. You casually pat his shoulder as you push yourself past him.

Daniel is frozen in place. He expected you to scoff, frown, pout. He expected you to glare at him and maybe even scream. He expected anger because he knows it’s what he deserves but he feels his heart break a little as you offer him a smile – not like your usual ones that he adores, but rather a polite, detached smile lacking both emotion and sincerity. You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger, someone who doesn’t matter, a presence you’re only tolerating.

This is worse than anger, he decides. Anger and fury he can take and maybe he can even match but your cold indifference he knows he will never be able to handle.

He watched as you walked towards Max, that usual smile you’ve reprieved from him now on your face as you throw your arms around the dutchman. He watches as Max’s hand settles on the exposed skin of your back. You’re punishing him. And maybe a part of him believes that he deserves it. You should have punished him long before he let it come to this, but still, he despises the sinking feeling in his stomach.

but it would have been fun if you would have been the one.

Daniel is slowly but surely losing his mind. He’s a mess and it’s all your fault. The sight of you with your tiny dresses and perfectly done makeup walking around in the paddock as you smile at everyone but him is cruel.

But the sight of you in some new other man’s arms is worse. A mechanic or an engineer, an intern or a trainer. You entertain everyone that gives you attention, letting them touch you and stand close to you as long as Daniel can see. It’s driving him insane. You refuse to talk to him, not even giving him a chance to start a conversation. You even refuse to look at him and if Daniel isn’t completely at his wits ends, he would have acknowledged how much your actions hurt. He misses looking into your eyes. He misses your scent and your smiles. He misses your jokes and your laughs. He misses everything about you but instead he’s stuck watching you from afar.

Eventually though, you’re unable to play your game forever and Daniel is unable to hold himself back much longer. Justifications that this is the best for you no longer means much to him as he stared at you from across the club — another goddamn club.

It’s your 21st birthday celebration and Daniel is sure that if he hadn’t been part of the team, you wouldn’t have been forced to invite him. It’s not like his presence makes much difference though considering you haven’t looked at his general direction the moment he arrived hours ago. Instead, he’s left by himself, watching the way your hair bounces as you jump up and down, a careless smile on your face and your laugh often echoing around the club.

Daniel thought you looked sinfully beautiful, some guy’s arms around you as the two of you jumped to the beat.

He also thought that you’re a goddamn pain in the ass, his resolve slowly slipping away as he watched you. You’re doing it on purpose, he’s sure. Taunting and teasing, pride and ego and the need to get even. Truly, he knows you too well.

As it turns out though, it’s you who breaks first. You hadn’t meant to, far too drunk to understand anything apart from the fact that you missed him.

Daniel turned around for a moment, having decided that if he’s going to watch you and wallow in jealousy the entire night then he might as well get drunk. He may not be the best at keeping you away but he is good at staying away, determined to follow your lead if it meant ending whatever the two of you had for your own good.

Perhaps this is the universe giving him a chance to correct his mistakes, to actually put you first over his own selfish desire to keep you for himself.

And if it meant you hating him then Daniel is going to force himself to live with it.

But still, the sight of you suddenly gone from the corner of the club you’ve been occupying the entire night and suddenly he couldn’t help the sudden worry sinking in his stomach. He waits for a few minutes, hoping you just went to the bathroom or something of the sorts but when ten minutes passes and you’re still not back, Daniel’s worry becomes far too much to ignore as he pushes himself off the bar stool, fighting his way through the throng of people.

He goes to Max first, asking the dutchman where you were to which the younger driver replied with a small shrug, far too drunk to even properly process his words. Daniel rolled his eyes, all but marching into the women’s bathroom as he checked for you only to find it completely empty, seemingly only increasing his worry.

It’s a few minutes later after practically turning the entire club upside down that he finally finds you, keys of his rental car in his hand with the purpose of going to your hotel to see if you’d made it home safely.

But he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you sitting on the pavement, head against your knees and shivering. You look small and vulnerable and he can’t help the way his heart breaks.

“Y/N!” He calls, jogging towards you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up, eyes squinted as he kneeled before you, hand instinctively going on your shoulder as he assessed your figure for any sort of injury or explanation.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, voice small and hoarse. Earlier you were full of life as you drank the night away, determined to show Daniel what he lost but now your body feels heavy and all you want to do is cry.

Daniel stared at you and the defeat in your eyes. Heaving a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket and places it around your shoulder. He knew that he should probably take you to your hotel now but you looked so lost and terrified that he can’t phantom the thought of leaving your side.

And so he stalls. He stalls by sitting next to you instead, making sure there’s space between the two of you.

And for a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The loud music from the club doesn’t reach you nor does the chatter. All you can hear is the way your heart breaks once again so close after so many weeks. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him comfort you. You want to let him fix everything and let you naively hope.

But too many words are left unsaid and too much heartache has been caused. You regret it all now; your petty revenge plan and walking out on him when he told you he was moving. You regret ignoring his calls and seeing that photo of him with a girl. You regret the months spent before that falling for him believing you had any control of yourself, believing that you’d easily pull yourself up if you fell.

And you understand now too. You understand now why Daniel has always held back, why he never truly allowed himself to love you. It’s because of this. He never wants you to feel this. He was trying to spare you from having to experience this kind of heartbreak once you realized nothing will ever come out between the two of you.

Daniel has always been longing. He’s always been lust and desire and hope. You never thought he could be pain too.

“You’re allowed to love me, you know,” you say, barely a whisper. “Please love me.”

It takes Daniel a few moments to answer, feeling his heart seemingly getting heavier in his chest as your voice breaks. He never wanted to see you so broken, especially not because of him.

“Loving you was never the problem,” he finally says, his voice just as quiet as if he’s telling a secret to the winds. “Loving you too much was.”

“You can’t love someone too much,” you say, your tone becoming defensive as you desperately clutch onto straws of hope that maybe the two of you could work out. “You just love me.”

And Daniel finally looks at you, meeting your eyes for the first time in weeks. “I do. I do love you. I love you so much that I’m not stealing your youth from you. I love you so much that I refuse to take advantage of you.”

You couldn’t help the tears that slipped from your eyes as all of your will shattered. You couldn’t help the way you flung yourself at him as you sobbed into his shoulder. Daniel’s arms around you are instinctive, holding you close to his chest as if he could hold you together as you break apart.

And he’ll let go of you now. He took you to your hotel room and kissed your forehead goodbye. He let you keep his jacket as he removed his arms from around you. He wiped your tears as his own fell. It was a goodbye, an ending.

Daniel loves you. He loves you with his entire soul. And that’s precisely the problem. He loved you so much he’d let you go.

“Maybe in a few years,” you all but plead as you clutch at his shirt, knowing that letting go of him now might mean forever. “When I’m old enough, you can love me again.”

He smiled. As if he’d ever stop loving you. “In a few years then.”

He used to believe there were only two types of love; the kind you’d die for and the kind you’d kill for but god, he’d live for you.

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader

4K notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

Text

Just Love Me and Eat

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

You watched Eddie die, so this must be some nightmare in your room.

tw: blood, biting, i think its gender neutral?

also just really loved Bones and All and the concept of cannibalism/vampirism as love so made this lil guy

Word Count: 2k

Part two

masterlist

—

Your room was dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights off. It had been a month since Eddie died and you didn’t have the energy to pantomime life without him. You had no sense of what time it was, every day simply becoming another day where he was gone and you were left unmoored. If it wasn’t for the sound of birds chirping and kids playing outside, you wouldn’t have guessed time was passing at all.

You didn’t sleep, you hardly ate. Nancy and Robin brought you food like offerings, using their keys to enter your apartment and leaving simple meals outside your bedroom door with soft knocks on the wood. Their little tupperwares were probably the only things keeping you alive–you knew Eddie would be upset if you wasted food on his account.

The Hellfire shirt Wayne had given you was soft and well-worn, but it hardly smelled like Eddie anymore. The familiar scent of tobacco and leather and the incense that he used to try to cover the stink of weed was fading, soon you wouldn’t be able to detect it at all under the sharp tang of your sweat.

Curled up in your comforter, you kept thinking about how it should’ve been you instead. Eddie would have known how to keep living, he would’ve been able to move on. You? You were just surviving.

Sleep threatened the edges of your vision, you’d been staring at the fuzzy polaroid photo you had propped on your nightstand. It was of you and Eddie at some party, he was smiling broadly at the camera with you tugged neatly to his side. Both of you held solo cups, your head rested on his shoulder like it was meant to be there.

It was your last good memory of him, before Chrissy Cunningham died and everything you ever knew fell to pieces.

—

Your dreamless sleep was interrupted by something tapping at your window. At first you thought—prayed—you were hallucinating it. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep accumulating to finally make you hear things. But it insisted, the knocking at your second-floor window was incessant enough that it managed to pull you from your bed.

The quilt came with you as you carefully crossed the room to your window, trepidation making you bite your lip before you finally pulled back the curtain. It was a quick motion, ripping off the band-aid with the expectation of seeing a woodpecker or a squirrel or something normal on the other side.

What you didn’t expect to see was your dead boyfriend in the moonlight.

You nearly screamed, your eyes widening into dinner plates as you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. It must’ve been a dream, or a nightmare. In your effort to get away from the window you tripped over discarded shoes on the floor and fell back onto your butt. Panicked, delirious tears roll down your cheeks as you start to roughly pinch the skin on your exposed thigh.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” you mumbled to yourself as you hyperventilated through the tears. It couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie was dead. He was in The Upside Down. You were never getting him back.

It was too late when you realized your window was unlocked, not-Eddie placing a palm flat against the glass to push it up. It was slow, you were too stunned to get up and try to close it. You were just outright sobbing on the floor of your bedroom, angry welts across your leg from where you’d been pinching at it almost hard enough to draw blood.

This Eddie looked different… he looked off. His eyes weren’t brown anymore: they were too bright, almost looking like a cat’s eyes in a photograph. Your window was fully open now, not-Eddie pitching himself through with a grace you’d never seen before.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice sounding the same as it used to. Your heart twisted, breaking into a million pieces—you’d dreamt of Eddie before, but never like this. His clothes were ripped and dirty, his battle vest in shreds along with the shirt beneath it. You could see the gnarled, twisting scars on his arms and his neck and parts of his torso through the shirt—everything the demobats had done to him.

He took in the state of your bedroom, appraising it with the careful eye of someone who had been there many times before. You kept crying into your hand, not able to catch your breath. Your head was spinning, part of you wanting to wake up from the dream as the rest wanted to stay asleep—you wanted to soak up time with any shred of Eddie you could have.

Not-Eddie took a few careful steps toward you, his not-so-white Reeboks softly hitting the ground as he crouched in front of you. He had his Hellfire shirt on under his shredded battle vest and leather jacket, blood and dirt and foggy black stains clinging to the fabric. The one Wayne had given you was an extra, something found in the back of Eddie’s closet.

“You… you’re dead,” you finally croaked, your voice cracking and raspy from disuse. The breath you took rattled in your lungs, the scent of earth and blood and something vaguely like tobacco filling your nose. “I watched you… the bats…”

It was rushing all back to you, the way you screamed when all the bats fell around Eddie. You and Dustin ran to him, watching him die in your arms. Steve carried you out of the Upside Down kicking and screaming.

Not-Eddie tutted at you, his yellow eyes roving over your form. They paused at your neck, at the hem of the Hellfire shirt against your thighs. Something inside you kept telling you to get off the floor and run, but you remained rooted to the spot.

“You really think some silly little bats could keep me away from you?” Not-Eddie asked, his head tilting. “Nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.”

His hands were freezing when they wrapped under your knees to drag you closer. Fat tears rolled down your face, stinging at your eyes and hot against your cheeks.

“This can’t be happening.”

Not-Eddie chuckled, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth. His canines and outermost incisors in the top row of his teeth were elongated, looking like fangs more than anything else. Your mind stuttered, frantically trying to keep up.

His hands were still on the backs of your knees, his gaudy costume rings cold against your skin. His calloused fingers pressed at the popliteal veins at the backs of your legs. If anything he seemed to be preoccupied with rolling them under his fingertips, tracing along them.

“Guess they weren’t normal bats, baby,” he muttered, rolling from crouching on his feet to kneeling between your legs.

Your breath hitched as he bent over you, one dirt-crusted hand pressing against the floorboards near your head. His long curls fell down around you, curtaining your dark bedroom from your view as your breaths became shallow. He was so close to your Eddie that you almost found yourself convinced.

He leaned down, nosing at your neck. Hot breaths huffed at the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he growled in a low voice, a large hand pressing to your sternum to pin you to the floor. He was so strong, it was like he had placed a weight on your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice pathetic and soft. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands loosely tugging at his leather jacket. “I shouldn’t have let Harrington drag me away, should’ve stayed.”

He shushed me, pressing his nose to my skin and inhaling deeply. “S’okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me,” he mumbled, his voice seeming only partially present in the conversation. Not-Eddie’s lips pressed to your throat.

“Your heart is beating so fast… smells so good,” he groaned, licking up the side of your throat for a moment. “I’m starving, baby. You gonna help me?”

His voice was dripping with soft affection, like someone talking to a skittish wild animal. “Eddie…” you whined, your instincts screaming that something was wrong.

“Shh shh,” he mumbled, placing open mouthed kisses over your pulse point. His voice was broken, a desperation in it that you understood and recognized. “It’s okay... I just gotta eat, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten anything… wanted to see you first.”

Your head was spinning, the realization that this is your Eddie snapping into place like a sudden, infallible truth. Your heart was still pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. For the first time you felt like prey as Eddie kept you cornered against the floor. But he was still gentle, not taking what he easily could have.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears clouding your eyes. He was different, more monster than man, but this was Eddie. Your Eddie.

“Love you so much,” he said, his teeth scraping against your delicate skin. The words sounded like a prayer, like they’d been ripped from his chest. He seemed stuck, his muscles clenching as he traced his tongue and teeth along the thick vein in your throat. “Missed you.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Eat, Eddie. S’okay,” you mumbled despite your instincts screaming at you to get him off of you.

“I know you’re hungry, let me help.” You tilted your head, pressing your throat to his teeth. A lamb to the slaughter. He stiffened at the action, fighting to keep himself under control. “Don’t want you to be hungry. Not anymore.”

The sound he made was like he got punched in the stomach. Eddie groaned, his fingers pressing into the floorboard hard enough to make the wood split. Your brow pinched, concern running through you. He still hadn’t taken action, not yet.

Your fingers threaded into the soft curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling his head closer. “You won’t hurt me, Eds. Just love me and eat.”

He grunted, the ghost of a nod coming from him as his nose bumped your neck. The pain of Eddie’s teeth sinking into your neck made you whimper. His hand moved from your sternum to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. The sting faded to warmth, Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against your throat as he suckled at you.

After a while you could hardly keep your hand in his hair, so dizzy and tired that the back of your knuckles smacked against the floor. You felt like you were melting into it, vision doubling as your eyes crossed. Your breaths were shallow and slow. It was hard to think, your mind not able to even tell what time it was or how long it had been.

But your exhaustion was enough, Eddie pulled away. He lapped at the remaining blood on your skin for a moment before sitting back completely. You looked up at him with dizzy eyes, vaguely categorizing the way blood was smeared across his full lips and down his chin.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, gathering your loose limbs from where you’d sprawled on the floor. He seemed more himself now, his actions considerate and his voice back to its normal cadence. He lifted you in a smooth motion, carrying you to bed with a tenderness you remembered from him. He was so much stronger now.

After situating you on the covers, he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. His body settled behind yours, making the mattress dip as he pulled your spine to his chest. You were fighting with every blink, trying to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. If this was a dream you didn’t want Eddie to disappear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear,” he said into your hair, his large hands smoothing along your waist and your bicep. The reassurance was enough for you to drift off, the blood loss pulling you toward unconsciousness. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #kas!eddie #vampire #bones and all movie #gn!reader

207 notes · View notes

cinnamostar · 5 months

Text

01: self-fulfilling prophecy

part two.

pairing : jisung x gn!reader

summary : han jisung, the man who is incapable of maintaining a relationship for more than a few months. han jisung, the man who is in complete denial that maybe he is the problem. han jisung, the man who has convinced himself he isn’t meant for love.

wc : 8.5k

cw : not proof read, nonidol!au, alcohol/drinking, sadness, angst, arguing, cursing, some cute stuff. plz let me know if i missed anything.

a/n : likes, reblogs, and feedback is much appreciated!! not too confident on this one because idk, i feel like the dialogue isn’t well executed, but let me know what you think. please enjoy!

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Jisung didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to romance. He never did anything exceedingly horrendous, he always remained faithful in each relationship he had, but they never lasted long. He simply didn’t know how to be a good partner, always too focused on his own needs to the point that his selfishness turned into emotional neglect for the other.

It’s not that he didn’t like the people he dated. He genuinely adored them for who they were, yet he always found himself heartbroken and confused at the end of each relationship when they would all voice the same exact reasonings on why they were ending it.

“I just don’t feel like you care about my feelings.”

“It feels like you don’t even like me enough to put in the effort to make this work.”

“I don’t feel like a priority in your life.”

“I swear you forget we’re even in a relationship.”

“You’re too focused on yourself and everything else to even make time for me.”

Like clockwork, a few months would pass by and his partner would sit him down for the break up talk. It was exhausting. He was clueless, not having any idea what he was doing so wrong even though he would always receive a list of reasons each time. In his eyes, he was doing the best he could, but perhaps his best was not enough.

Of course he cared for their feelings! Of course he liked them, he could’ve sworn he was doing his damnedest. Not a priority? That was ridiculous, he always made time to spend with his partner during the week despite his busy schedule. Forget? Nonsense! Too focused on himself? Well, of course he was focused on pursuing his music career which required long hours at the studio, why would he want to be with someone who didn’t support his endeavors? They knew what they were getting into when they met him!

It made zero sense to Jisung. At some point, he had given up on love altogether. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for it, maybe relationships were just not his thing. Clearly, he was doing something wrong and he decided that maybe hook up culture was just where he belonged.

What Jisung failed to realize was that he was forcing his own ideals of a relationship onto his partners. The idea that people had different needs and perceptions on how relationships should function never dawned on him. He never thought to consider what the other person wanted and had simply assumed they would be content with whatever he had to offer.

He forgot that some people needed more reassurance. He forgot some people wanted to go on actual dates, not everyone considered a night in a date, especially if every date was a night in. He forgot that some people didn’t just want to sit in a room with him while he was on his phone or working on his next project. Sometimes people wanted his undivided attention. Sometimes people wanted to be able to hold a conversation with him. Sometimes people needed more communication because quite frankly, three texts a day didn’t quite cut it for most people.

Yet, Jisung was too absorbed in his own world and his passions to even begin to understand that concept. He absolutely refused to believe he was doing something wrong and that he was just dating the wrong people this whole time. He just hadn’t found the one, right?

Despite that foolish belief he stubbornly held onto, it didn’t mean each instance didn’t take a hit on his ego. After the many failed relationships he had been through, the fear of inadequacy and insecurity began to creep into his mind. Was he not worthy of love? Was he incapable of forming a healthy relationship? Was something wrong with him?

He felt that he had so much love to offer in his heart, but he had no idea what it took to be a good partner. He was too tunnel visioned on producing and music to realize that sometimes, love and relationships required a bit of sacrifice, and that was something he refused to do.

Yet, Jisung wanted to fall in love. Like any other human on earth, he craved to love and be loved, to be understood wordlessly by someone else, but it seemed like love didn’t welcome him with open arms. He desperately wanted to feel like he was needed and wanted, to feel the bubbling shyness and giddiness that only love could give him, but somehow, it seemed that he was the victim of a paradox. Love hated him.

However, Jisung had resigned and accepted defeat. He wasn’t cut out for it. Besides, it’s not like anyone would even bother to give him a chance anymore. After a few failed relationships, people were quick to label him as ‘trash’ and a terrible boyfriend, only good for fun, but definitely nothing more. It was almost as if he had a permanent warning label above his head that scared off anyone who had any remote interest in him.

People talked. And if anyone so much expressed any interest in him, someone would leap in to rescue them from a foreseeable heartbreak, telling them he was no good and a waste of time. Oh, but if you wanted a few nights of fun and to just fool around, he was perfect for that, but never, and absolutely under no circumstances, was he someone to settle down with.

He was the only one to blame for his infamy in the dating scene, but Jisung was suffering from a case of extreme delusion and oblivion. Maybe one day he would lose that self-centered immaturity and have a much needed epiphany, but that day seemed far off in the future.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

For the past week, Jisung had holed himself in his studio, insistent on perfecting his latest track by some arbitrary deadline he had set for himself. This was a regular occurrence that his friends had gotten used to. They would be more surprised if this didn’t happen, but this also meant that they had to pay a visit to his studio every few days and force him to take a break for the sake of his mental and physical health.

Today was one of those days in which Minho came knocking at his door after unlocking the door with the passcode Jisung had given him long ago, reminding him to come by his place later that night for a small party to celebrate his dance troop’s recent competition win. While Jisung was proud of this achievement, part of him felt a tad bit annoyed that he had to interrupt his work schedule for someone else, but Minho was one of his best friends, he at the very least should show up for a bit. He could stay for an hour or two, and hopefully by then everyone would be a little too drunk to notice he had escaped back to his studio.

Jisung sighed as he begrudgingly made his way to Minho’s apartment, dreading the amount of people he would have to socialize with tonight. He was relieved to know that a few familiar faces would be there, such as Hyunjin and Felix, who were also part of the troop, but the team had also gone through auditions recently, meaning there would be people he would have to meet for the first time.

He wasn’t one for befriending strangers, as oftentimes, many of them had a negative impression of him due to his dating history. He hated how every time he introduced himself, as soon as the words “Han Jisung” left his mouth, people’s faces would drop into an unreadable expression, almost as if they were disappointed to finally meet the man who was rumored to be complete and utter trash. It was anxiety-inducing and turned him off from seeking out new friendships because everyone would always say “Oh! Did you used to date my friend?” And at that moment, he knew it was over. They hated him before they even got to know him. As a result, Jisung always felt apprehensive when it came to meeting new people and he much preferred sticking with his small circle of friends.

As Jisung arrived at the front steps of Minho’s apartment, he felt his shoulders tense up with trepidation as he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek. The party had already started with the music blaring throughout the building, the lights dimmed with colorful LEDs visible from the window. A chorus of joyful cheers followed by the clinking of shot glasses and laughter could be heard from outside, signaling that the party was already in full swing. Jisung let out an uneasy groan, unprepared for what the night would bring, but reassured himself knowing that he only needed to stay for at least an hour before he could retreat back to the safe haven known as his studio.

After a sharp inhale, Jisung put on a fake smile as he opened the door, instantly greeted by a drunken Changbin who was double fisting two beers, wearing a toothy smile.

“Jisung! You made it!”

The last thing Jisung wanted tonight was to be put in the spotlight, which Changbin just unknowingly thrust him into with no warning. Others nearby turned their attention to the front door, some choosing to ignore Jisung’s presence to continue their conversations while others politely waved or called out a quick hello.

Minho shortly appeared in Jisung’s vision, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled him into a one-armed hug, “Glad you showed up, I was worried you forgot!” An airy chuckle escaped Minho as Jisung gasped, feigning a look of betrayal while playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder, “How dare you think I’d forget my best friend’s party? I would never!”

Minho rolled his eyes at Jisung’s gesture before dragging him by his wrist. “Whatever you say, but c’mon! I want you to meet our new members. Plus, you look a little too stiff for my liking,so let's get some drinks in ya first.”

Suddenly, shot glasses filled with tequila were shoved into Jisung’s hand as people egged him on to down them, chasing the two shots with lime and salt to cut through the harshness of the alcohol. A familiar buzz took over his senses, his head feeling lighter than usual as a lopsided smile appeared on his face while the nervousness he felt earlier quickly dissipated.

The bit of liquid courage energized Jisung enough to forget all the now seemingly silly concerns he had earlier as he jumped through the bunches of people, excitedly yapping away as he caught up with friends and introduced himself to new people. Each time he noticed someone cringing at the sound of his name or giving him a dirty look, he would promptly take another shot to rid himself of the anxiety he was feeling, hoping the alcohol would make him just unaware enough of any other glares he would receive from people that night.

Eventually, Jisung made his way to the loft upstairs to take a break from the hectic party below, already feeling a headache coming on. He stumbled his way to the couch, not paying much mind to his surroundings as he plopped himself onto the couch, immediately throwing his head back while shutting his eyes.

“Oh, he definitely overdid it again,” laughed Felix from the left of him, “How many shots did you take?”

Jisung waved his hand as if he was shooing Felix away while mumbling, “Don’t even ask.”

He heard an unfamiliar giggle erupt from the right side of him, causing him to sit straight up with his eyes wide, hastily snapping his head to see who the laugh belonged to, not expecting anyone other than his friends here.

He found himself staring into your eyes that were crinkled from laughing, a lax smile adorning your face as you brought up a hand to hide behind. Your laugh was rich and decadent, almost as sweet as chocolate, and your smile was so refreshing that it instantly roused him from his drunken state the moment his eyes landed on you.

Oh, shit, they’re cute.

Jisung’s inebriated state had caused him to lose all self-awareness because all he could do was gawk at you with enamored eyes, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to find the words to introduce himself. He felt his face flush from embarrassment when you returned his gaze while wearing an expectant expression, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I- Oh, uhm, I…”

You had instantly captured his heart with the most saccharine smile he has ever seen and within a few seconds, Jisung was undeniably smitten, but he was also completely making a fool of himself within those same few seconds.

“Jesus christ, Jisung, how drunk are you?” howled Hyunjin, who had gotten up to lightly poke Jisung’s cheek, “Helloooo, earth to Jisung? Anyone home?”

“Dude… Close your mouth before you start drooling over there. I don’t think that’s an image you want Y/N to have during your first meeting,” Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor, mischievously sneered, quickly recognizing Jisung’s speechless state was caused by something more than just alcohol. Jisung shook his head side to side to wake himself from his lovestruck daze, clearing his throat in an attempt to cover up Seungmin’s comment.

“Mm, sorry! I just-,”

Oh, this is bad, he really is making this so much worse for himself. He was now regretting all the shots from earlier as he tripped over his words, his nerves not being of any help. He desperately was trying to say something sensible, but instead, all he could blurt out was,

“Jisung! I’m Jisung… yeah!”

Now it is a lot worse as Jisung cringed at how loud and annoying his voice was, everyone else also seemingly cowering from second hand embarrassment as they watched the scene unfold, but no one was able to peel their eyes away.

Like an angel sent from heaven, Felix decided to have mercy on the brown haired boy, peeking out from behind Jisung to meet your eyes at the other side of the couch. “Y/N, this is our friend Jisung! He makes music with Changbin and Chan. Jisung, this is Y/N. They’re one of our newest members on the team.” God, Jisung could kiss Felix right now from how relieved he was to have alleviated the awkward tension he had just created moments earlier.

You nodded, smiling at Jisung as your eyes lit up in realization, “Oh, Jisung? I’ve heard about you before.”

Ah, there it is. Of course! Of course you have and how stupid of him to think he’d be able to have an untarnished first impression with you and-

“Minho says so many good things about you! He even showed me some of your songs. You’re really talented at what you do, I definitely added a few to my playlist.”

Someone pinch Jisung right now because he must be dreaming, there’s absolutely no way. Is luck finally on his side? Has God finally decided to be oh-so-merciful today? He was on cloud nine as he relished in your compliments, savoring this moment because this may never happen again.

Jisung clicked his teeth as he waved both his hands in front of him with a flustered smile, “Oh, no, no, no, I am not that good! But thank you!” The alcohol was really doing a number on him as he slurred over each syllable, but thankfully he was coherent enough for everyone to understand what he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at his antics while standing from your seat, “Well, it's nice to finally put a face to the name, but I do have to go now, I have to be up early.”

Jisung deflated as everyone wished you good night, feeling disappointed how quickly your first meeting with him ended. Hyunjin stood up, offering to walk you out and once you were out of earshot, Jisung whipped his head to Felix.

“Felix… Who was that? How long have you been hiding them from me?”

Seungmin struggled to contain his laugh, earning a confused look from Jisung, “What are you laughing at?”

“Dude, you. You looked so stupid trying to talk to them.”

Jisung threw himself back into the couch, sinking into the cushions with an embarrassed groan, “Shut up, I know.”

Felix laughed, shooting Jisung a pitiful smile, “You’ve done worse, it’s fine. And no one was hiding them from you, you just never show up when we invite you anywhere. That is your own fault, not ours!” Jisung pouted, cursing himself mentally for rejecting all those plans.

“They’re cool, they’ve been on our team for a few months. Crazy good at dancing too, we are super lucky to have them.”

“Are they dating anyone?”

The room grew quiet at Jisung’s question as Seungmin and Felix looked at each other with uneasiness, unsure how to respond. Hyunjin had come back up the stairs after walking you to your car, just in time to hear Jisung. He let out a heavy sigh, alerting everyone of his presence.

“I… I think it's best if you just leave them alone, Jisung. They’re a really sweet person and you, well…”

“Me what? What do you mean?” Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at Hyunjin as the taller boy struggled to finish his thought.

“Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Jisung? I know you’re wasted right now, but don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And he did, he knew that Hyunjin was referring to his dating history, but Jisung felt himself growing angry hearing his friend allude to him being a bad partner, suggesting he would hurt you.

“No, I want to hear you say it,” Jisung spat out, a scowl painted all over his face as he stared down Hyunjin with his arms crossed, who was still standing by the stairs. He felt himself become warm in frustration as all the insecurities he held close to his heart started to bubble up. Did his own friend’s think so poorly of him too?

Felix reached out to put a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder, hoping to defuse the situation, “Let’s not do this right now. You’re still drunk, Jisung.” Jisung shook Felix’s hand off his shoulders, standing up while still glaring at Hyunjin with clenched fists.

“Say it.”

“Jisung-” warned Felix, but he was cut off by Seungmin.

“You’re a shit boyfriend, Jisung. We don’t need you hurting someone we’re friends with again.”

The room was silent as everyone now stared at Seungmin with wide eyes, startled at how blunt he was being. Jisung didn’t know what he was feeling as a flash of rage took over his body, but at the same time, he felt his heart drop hearing those words come out of his own friend’s mouth. It was now Hyunjin’s turn to butt in,

“Seungmin, stop-”

“No, he needs to hear it straight up. He fucking sucks and you all know I’m right. I’m tired of him acting like he isn’t the problem. Leave Y/N alone. They’re better off without you.”

Jisung felt hot tears well up in his eyes as he took in every one of Seungmin’s words, each casting daggers into his heart. His worst nightmares were coming true as he realized that it wasn’t just strangers and ex-lovers who viewed in such a negative light, but the people he trusted so much, his own friends, also thought the same of him. The fury laced in Seungmin’s voice cut Jisung deep as every syllable pushed him over the edge til Jisungfound himself falling into a pit of sadness and hurt, his stomach flipping onto itself on his way down.

Was he really that bad? Wait, no! How dare Seungmin say such a thing to him? What does Seungmin even know about Jisung’s past relationship? He was stepping out of line! The sadness instantly subsided, soon being replaced with a familiar feeling of denial and anger as Jisung stomped towards Seungmin, crouching down to meet him on the floor. Jisung sloppily grabbed Seungmin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“What the fuck did you just say? Take it back right fucking now,” growled Jisung, venom dropping down from each word.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, pushing the drunken boy off him who stumbled backwards, “See, this right here is your problem. You can’t even begin to accept that you’re in the wrong.” Seungmin stood up, now looking down at Jisung who still hadn’t regained his balance. He took in an exasperated inhale, a subdued smile replacing the vexed look he just had as he softened his tone, “Look, Jisung. I love and care for you, but I cannot turn a blind eye and let you hurt someone else. I mean it. Leave them alone.” With that, Seungmin made his way to the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from Jisung at that moment before he said something he’d later regret.

Jisung remained seated on the floor as he was processing the words and emotions that were rushing in all at once, his drunken brain unsure how to handle all the information he was just fed. He laid his head into his hands as his brain echoed Seungmin’s words again and again.

Jisung felt his breath get caught in his throat as he hiccuped a quiet sob, his body starting to tremble as the tears he was holding back for so long finally fell. His body collapsed onto itself as his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs burning from the lack of air as he continued to inconsolably weep, struggling to breathe between his cries.

Maybe he is as bad as everyone said he was.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

A few weeks had gone by since Jisung and Seungmin’s argument at the party, but the tension between the two boys didn’t last long as Seungmin showed up to Jisung’s apartment the very next day with a bowl of soup for his hangover and an apology, which Jisung graciously accepted, neither wanting to be upset at each other any longer.

Despite that, the words Seungmin had said never left Jisung, leaving a permanent scar on his brain as he constantly recalled the moment. The words painfully rang through his ears as a ball of shame and misery formed in his stomach while he reminisced about his past relationships, trying to figure out what he did so wrong.

Jisung felt horrible as he carried this weight of guilt on his shoulders as he wondered how his actions had hurt others and how he had remained oblivious for so long. All the insecurities and fears he had about himself were true at the end. Everyone around him was in agreement that he was the issue and he was the one behaving so selfishly in every relationship. He could understand that and he knew if his friend’s felt that way, it had to be the truth, but he was still struggling to identify what exactly about him and his behavior was so bad.

Sure, he could reach out and ask his friends to help see what he was missing, but he was too afraid to face the reality of the situation, not ready to take another brutal beating of words. He was terrified to hear the truth, but he knew the same conclusion he came to long ago remained true. Love was just not for him, it didn’t want him the same way he did.

Everyone had taken note of Jisung’s downtrodden mood and thought he had just needed a few days to collect himself, but once everyone realized more time had passed and that he didn’t even have the will to attend a recording session with Chan and Changbin, everyone went into crisis mode. So, over the last few weeks, someone would show up to Jisung’s house to check in on him and either spend a few hours with him at home, or forcefully drag him out the house to spend time with the group, insisting it would help him feel better.

Each time someone had forced him out, he would be huffing and sulking like a grumpy toddler throwing a tantrum, but as soon as he got there, he would be as cheery as ever and would end the day feeling a lot better. He hated how right his friends were, but he was always thankful for every time they dragged him out despite his whiny and bratty attitude.

However, there was another mental battle Jisung was fighting that everyone was unaware of, or so he thought, and he was definitely not coming out of it as a winner. Unfortunately for Jisung, since the time you joined Minho’s dance team, you had hit it off so well with the rest of the group that you were there almost every time Jisung joined you guys on an outing. And each day he spent with you, he found himself falling more and more for you.

He was really trying to stop himself, as he took Seungmin’s words to heart and imagined that sentiment was shared with everyone else, but this task was becoming an impossible one for Jisung to tackle!

It was weird. Every time he’d get invited out, Jisung would dread seeing you because he knew he was doomed to a hopeless, unrequited love with you, but if you weren’t there, he would be so disappointed and would find himself wanting to go home sooner. He wanted to stay as far away from you as possible, but something about you drew him in and he couldn’t resist and now here he is, finding himself in a friendship with you that he could not escape.

It’s not that he didn't want to be friends with you, if anything he loved the friendship you two had grown in such a short time and how quickly he became fond of you. You were incredibly sweet to Jisung, constantly showing your consideration for him everyday in new ways. If he ever felt anxious or out of place, you were the first to take notice and offer to get him out of whatever stuffy social situation he was in and stay with him til he was ready to join the others again. If he had decided to stay in that day, you’d send him a message letting know he was missed and hoped to see him the next time. There was even a time where he was too sick to leave the house, and much to his surprise, he found you and Minho at his front door steps with food and medicine.

Somehow, unlike everyone else before you, you had shown him a special kind of unwavering kindness and didn’t judge him for his past. For the first time in years, he finally felt safe and unconditionally loved in a friendship that wasn’t one of the boys. That was enough for Jisung to know that you were someone he wanted to keep in his life for as long as possible, even if it meant he had to confront eventual heartbreak and only stay by your side as nothing more than a friend.

But, that was okay. That was more than enough for him because as long as you were there, he would give you his all and support you endlessly. He would do anything to see you smile, anything to ensure your happiness, and if that meant he couldn’t be your lover, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Besides, no one has ever been happy with him in a relationship. This was how it had to be, this is how he could protect you from himself.

Regardless of how Jisung felt towards you, he had seriously doubted you had any interest in him in the first place. How could someone as angelic as you want to be with, well, trash? There was no way you hadn’t heard about his disastrous dating history, and if you were as smart as he thought you were, that alone would turn you off from him. Not only that, he was pretty sure you had heard about the fight he had with Seungmin and if that fight said anything about him, it showed that he was a mess of insecurities and arrogance. Why on Earth would you ever like someone like that? And if you heard about the fight, he was positive that Seungmin and everyone else had warned you about him and dissuaded you from even considering anything romantic with him.

It was doomed!

And although Jisung had earnestly vowed to himself he would not engage in anything romantic with you, he was failing miserably. His affection towards you was something everyone picked up on. He always, no matter what, had his undivided attention on you as you ranted to him about whatever bothered you that day or how you were struggling to nail a part of your dance routine. It was obvious. He loved hearing you talk and could listen to you for hours as if you were his own personal podcast, always mirroring your emotion and blindly agreeing with you during your rants, always asking you questions whenever you rambled on about your own hobbies and interests.

If someone ever talked over you, he’d make sure to ask you what you were going to say. If you were upset that day, he’d always offer to buy you ice cream and insist to the group that they all needed to stop by the local ice cream shop. If you ever showed him a video of your latest dance routine, he’d shower you with a ridiculous amount of compliments until you were a flustered mess asking him to stop. And every time he noticed you were wearing a new outfit, changed your hair, or wore different jewelry, he would be quick to notice and let you know how wonderful you looked. He was shamelessly flirting with you, and he hadn’t even realized how far he had let it go.

On the other side of the pond, you were well aware of every horrible thing that was said about Jisung, even long before you had become a member of Minho’s team, and to be quite frank, you thought he was a complete asshole from what you’ve heard. But once you realized that he was one of Minho’s lifelong best friends, you knew you had to push your personal feelings aside, especially when you realized some of the music Minho had you perform with was Jisung’s original work. You hated to admit it, but he was an absolute genius when it came to music production and you were slowly becoming a fan of his work.

All you could tell yourself was that he couldn’t have been that bad if everyone was still his friend and reminded yourself people change, it’s not like you were going to end up liking the guy anyway.

Oh, but you were so wrong.

The first time you saw him at Minho’s party, you thought he was so irresistibly adorable during his drunken babbling, and you were honestly taken aback that the cute man who sat in front of you was none other than Han Jisung. Although, it did help soften your initial thoughts of him, making you think maybe he wasn’t that bad, especially after seeing him become a blushing mess at the mere sight of you, but those thoughts were quickly pushed away while Hyunjin walked you to your car after you left.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jisung from other people, right?”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty, but he doesn’t seem so bad though.”

“Well, he isn’t if you’re just friends with him, but… He definitely seemed into you when he saw you and as your friend, I feel like it is my responsibility to let you know that he isn’t someone you should pursue. I love him, but you deserve someone better than that… I would hate to see him hurt another one of my friends.”

“Ah, no worries, Hyunjin. I’ve made dumb dating choices in the past, but I’m not that stupid.”

Except, you were that stupid. So, so, so incredibly stupid and you were terrified that anyone would uncover your growing crush on the boy. You could already imagine both Hyunjin and Seungmin’s disappointed looks, and you promised yourself you were taking this little secret to the grave. You had every reason in the world to not be attracted to Jisung, especially after hearing how he put his hands on Seungmin during their argument! Drunk or not, there’s no excuse for that and his denial of his actions said so much about him.

Yet, here you are, sitting next to Jisung on the couch in the living room of Minho’s place, excitedly talking to him about the latest episode of the drama you were currently watching, gossiping to him as if the actors were real people you knew in your personal life. He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, facing you while nodding along to every word you said, his eyes trained on you and you alone.

“And-, oh my god, I almost forgot, but the lead then told her to shut up! Can you believe that?!”

Jisung would then gasp, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, “No fucking way… What is his problem?”

“Right! And then-,” you paused for a moment, suddenly feeling insecure that you were forcing Jisung to listen about something he probably didn’t care for. You sighed and gave him an apologetic smile as you anxiously twiddled your fingers, “I’m sorry, I got carried away, you probably don’t wanna listen to me talk about some stupid drama.”

This time, Jisung did look genuinely surprised as his eyebrows furrowed upward with panicked eyes, “What? No, I love hearing you talk about this, you’re always so excited that it’s adorable.” He hated how fast your mood changed and started to worry if he had done something to make you feel that way. Did he look uninterested? Was he not responsive enough?

“Did I do something to make you think I didn’t want to listen?”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at Jisung calling you adorable, and then felt your heart start beating loudly in your chest when he asked you that question with all the concern and worry in the world filling his eyes. You shot straight up in your seat, returning his gaze with astonishment, not expecting him to be so considerate. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong… I just…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the words without revealing too much on how you were feeling, “I just got nervous for a moment, I don’t know.”

Jisung nodded as you spoke, taking your hands in his as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, I promise there’s nothing more I’d love than to hear you talk. You could be explaining the most boring thing ever, and I would still listen to you happily.”

In the kitchen stood Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Minho who were watching the scene unfold before them as they prepared food for everyone, while the others were upstairs playing whatever video game upstairs. Seungmin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jisung reach for your hands, taking note of the flustered look on your face.

“I think Y/N likes him.”

Hyunjin and Minho turned to Seungmin for a moment, then looked back at you and Jisung, unsure what exactly Seungmin saw other than Jisung’s flirtations.

Hyunjin let out an annoyed exhale as he continued to fry the eggs on the pan, then muttering, “There’s no way that’s possible. Y/N knows better.”

“I don’t know. Just look at them, they act like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together,” whispered Seungmin.

“I guess,” murmured Hyunjin, clearly upset about Seungmin’s hunch, “This is going to end terribly, isn’t it?”

Minho silently stood as he separated the ramen noodles that were boiling in the pot, humming along as he listened to the two younger boys angrily whisper. “I think it will be okay. I think our Jisungie has learned his lessons.”

The other two looked at him with disbelief, neither believing Jisung was capable of ever growing from the immature mindset he had for as long as they’ve known him. Hyunjin scoffed, “No, you don’t really think that, do you?”

Minho kept his eyes on the stove as the other two stared down at the back of his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I could be wrong, I can’t exactly predict the future, but…” He then glanced back at the couch, smiling as Jisung made you laugh, “He treats them differently. I don’t know why, but he does. Don’t you two think so?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin stayed silent, not being able to deny Minho’s statement because they fully knew he wasn’t wrong. Everyone knew something in Jisung had changed when he had met you, and everyone saw how gently he treated you, almost as if he was scared he could scare you away with one little misstep.

“Whatever, I still don’t trust him,” Hyunjin grumbled, putting the last of the eggs on a plate.

Minho chuckled at both of the boy’s protectiveness, “That’s okay, no one is forcing you to, but remember, they’re both adults. They can do what they want, no matter how stupid we all think it is.”

�� ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Months had gone by and there was no denying the small romance that had flourished between you and Jisung. You both were hopelessly head-over-heels for the other, to the point that everyone around you two had grown sick of it and was praying for the day where one of you would finally confess your feelings to the other.

You had long given up on hiding your feelings for the boy from your friends, especially after one day Seungmin had confronted you and told you it was the most obvious thing in the world. Part of you had prepared yourself for Seungmin to berate you for your poor taste in men, especially after the plethora of warnings you had been given about Jisung, but instead, he was very supportive and wanted you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it, even if he thought you could do better.

Jisung had become a part of your daily life, spending nearly everyday with each other or at the very least, you both had become accustomed to texting one another throughout the day. You’d start your day either sending or receiving a ‘good morning’ text from him and you’d end your day the same way, except it was a ‘good night’ text.

You’d often pay him a visit at his studio on days he had lost track of time, always letting yourself in after he had given you the passcode to the door, which he had only given to you, Minho, Chan, and Changbin. It came to you as a surprise when he gave you the code to his studio, insisting that you needed it so you could drop in whenever you wanted, telling you that you were always a welcomed guest at his studio. In reality, Jisung just wanted an excuse to see you more, and you had taken the bait as you would often show up with an iced americano in hand and whatever takeout food you were in the mood for that day.

If you ever had a long day of dance practice, Jisung would make sure to stop by to drop off a snack and drink as well, often receiving complaints from Minho over his blatant favoritism, accusing him of neglecting his best friend, which would cause Jisung to grow red from embarrassment. Despite his relentless teasing, Minho was more than proud to see how much Jisung had grown and how naturally caring for you had come to him. It was a side of Jisung no one had ever seen, and it was a very much welcomed change.

Today, you were sitting on the couch at Jisung’s apartment as he washed the dishes from the dinner you both had attempted to make, humming along as he put them in the drying rack. For some reason, you and Jisung had thought it would be a great idea to recreate a steak dish you both saw online and while it did not go terribly, the steaks ended up being a little too burnt for either of your liking. You were a bit disappointed, part of you feeling embarrassed you couldn’t even cook a proper meal in front of your crush, but he had lifted your spirits up by telling you it was an ‘excellent culinary choice’ to serve the steaks charred, shushing you each time you said the word burnt.

Soon after, he took a seat next to you on the couch, flicking through the TV as he tried to find something to watch, but soon gave up as he turned to you, “Is there anything you wanna watch?”

You scrunch up your face as you take a few seconds to think, clapping your hands excitedly once the idea hits you, “Have you ever watched Love is Blind? It’s kinda a dumb reality show, but I still haven’t seen the new season and it’s always a fun watch!”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows quizzically, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Love is Blind? I’ve never heard of it, what's it about?”

“Never heard of it!? No way!” You gasped, a hand clasping over your mouth dramatically as he smiled adoringly at your antics, “It’s such a crazy show! Basically, a bunch of singles are trying to find the love of their lives, but they’re meeting people without ever seeing what they look like!”

“Oh, so they only get to talk to each other?”

“Yeah! And then they have to get engaged, and once that happens, they can finally meet face to face. They’re supposed to get married at the end of the series, but there’s always juicy drama going on before then!”

Jisung hummed, taking interest in the show's concept, “That’s cool, so they’re trying to see if love is truly blind?”

“Exactly!” You chirped, nodding with enthusiasm as you beamed at Jisung, waiting for his response.

“Sure, let’s watch it!” How could he ever say no to you when you’re smiling at him that way? He swore he felt his heart flutter the moment you smiled at him, the jubilation in your eyes making him become putty in your hands. “Do you really believe in that though? Like, unconditional love?”

You turned to him as you grabbed the remote from his hands, a bit taken aback from his question, “Well, I’ve already seen the other seasons and some couples have definitely proven that love can be blind, but love differs for everyone. I think that’s the beauty of this show though, loving someone despite their flaws and loving them for who they truly are.”

He leaned back on the couch, returning your gaze as he lost himself deep in thought, “Right, but do you think you could love someone unconditionally? Even if they’ve made mistakes in the past?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to understand where Jisung was coming from, a gentle smile gracing your features as you reached a comforting hand over his wrist, “Well, as long as those past mistakes aren’t murder or something, I don’t see why not. I’d like to think people are able to grow from their past.”

Jisung smiled as he sighed in relief, his other hand resting on top of yours, “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

It was a quiet and cold night as you curled up into Jisung’s side, your head resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his as his arms swaddled you into a tight embrace. It was peaceful and serene, the only sounds filling the room was the light pitter patter of rain against his bedroom window and the comforting beat of his heart. You tilted your head upwards and caught Jisung’s gaze, a relaxed smile on his face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, but you could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what you and Jisung were, as neither of you had ever officially discussed labels, but you both were very aware of each other’s feelings for one another. There was no doubt that you both were more than just friends, but the label of partners or dating was something Jisung nervously tiptoed around.

After a few weeks of these shared tender moments, you figured Jisung would soon ask you to be his, but the question never came and it filled you with nervousness. You didn’t want to pressure him, as you could sympathize with his concerns since he was very transparent with you about his hesitance from the very start.

Jisung was irrevocably in love with you and wanted nothing more than to make you his partner, but he would be lying to you if he wasn’t also terrified of the weight of that label. For so long, Jisung had convinced himself he was incapable of loving someone the way they deserved to be and never thought anyone would have ever fallen for him, especially someone as perfect as you. Perhaps it was your sheer kindness and undying belief in him, but he felt like a complete fraud, as if you had imagined him to be this amazing man that he could never be and has never been. He wasn’t ready to fall short of your expectations, he wasn’t ready to face the disappointed and heartbroken look on your face once you realized the rumors about him were complete truth.

He felt as if he was truly undeserving of someone as pure as you, someone so selfless and caring who approached their own feelings with so much confidence, while he was just a shamefully selfish man who didn’t know how to trust himself, who didn’t believe in his own ability to make his own partner happy, a man who was painfully insecure and unsure of who he was.

He wanted you with every fiber of his being and desperately wanted to be the very reason behind your smiles, laughter, and happiness. He so greedily desired to see his own reflection in your eyes for the rest of his life, a sight that he wanted to treasure for the rest of life and the thought of you looking at someone else that way physically pained him.

Yet, his fear of hurting you and disappointing everyone else around him held him back from chasing those feelings and Seungmin’s words from months ago ruminated in his mind as a constant reminder of his past failures. He would not be able to shoulder the burden of hurting you, the guilt would completely eat him up because at the end of the day, it would be his fault for fooling you into the idea that he was capable of giving you that movie perfect love story. For crying out loud, he’s Han Jisung, the guy everyone hated and criticized for his ineptitude of romantic relations. He knew what you wanted, he knew you were growing impatient and scared over his inaction, but his anxieties held him captive in a standstill, and he was not strong enough to challenge it.

All he could tell you was that he needed more time, that he was afraid and needed the chance to grow that confidence in himself once more, but he knew time was finite and he was running out of it.

As he kissed your forehead, he felt his heart flinch as a pang of sadness flooded his body, forcefully fighting the overwhelming adoration and affection he had for you. He was petrified at the way his body slowly began to reject the feelings of love he had for you, fear and insecurities consuming it as if everything you had to offer nothing. All rational thinking had left him in that moment as panic took over his thoughts, angrily yelling at him for being such an idiot to think anything would ever change. How stupid he was to lead on another innocent person and how he was only going to hurt them, just like all the others before him. How idiotic he was for thinking he was ever deserving of love, as love does not wish to know him.

He just couldn’t be your love.

God, if he wasn’t such a selfish asshole, maybe then he could’ve saved you from his own carelessness. If he had only heeded the warnings of his friends, but once again, he has fallen into the trap of self-centered needs outweighing the feelings of others. If he had only stayed your friend and nothing more, if he had only not-

“Y/N, I don’t think this is going to work.”

Did he really say that out loud? He held his breath as he cursed himself for acting so quickly out of fear, his heart stopped as he watched you stiffen in his own arm. You silently sat yourself up, his arms falling to the mattress as you turned to him with tears filling your eyes, your lips trembling as you tried to contain a sob.

Oh, how Jisung just wished the world would swallow him whole in that moment, his heart completely shattering at the sight of your crestfallen face. He looked into your watery eyes to only realize that this time, the reflection of your eyes showed the source of your sorrow, an expression he had wished he never had the misfortune to witness.

“I… I’m sorry, I just-”

You shook your head, raising a hand to signal him to stop talking, refusing to take an explanation from him, “It’s okay. I was afraid this would happen.”

You forced a tightlipped smile, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to keep yourself together, faintly whispering a broken “Please don’t text or call me.”

Jisung shot up as he watched you get up from his bed, trying to scramble after you as you made your way to his front door, grabbing your belongings on the way. He didn’t realize how much he was already crying until he tried to speak to you, but it all came out in a blubbering sob. “Y/N, please, listen to me…” He begged you to listen to him, pleaded for you to try to understand where this was all coming from and to understand that he still loved you so much despite how selfish his actions are, yet you never gave him a chance.

“Jisung, please. I don’t care why, I don’t want to know,” you croaked between sobs, doing your best to maintain your composure as you faced the front door, refusing to look at him. “I just feel like an idiot. I should’ve listened to what people said about you.”

There you went, leaving his apartment and shutting the door in his face with force, leaving Jisung to confront nothing, but his own cowardice.

Once again, Jisung fell into the trap of his own self-centered thinking, getting lost in his own immaturity as he became the victim of the circumstances he created. If he had only realized that he wasn't alone in this battle of his own conscience, if he had only realized you would've fought each insecurity and fear with him.

Oh, woe is me, Han Jisung. Only a fool would be afraid of love.

#skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids angst #han jisung #skz jisung #skz jisung x reader #han x reader #skz han #skz han x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #cinnamostar writes

401 notes · View notes

silencesscreams · 11 months

Text

i watched it begin again

james potter x reader (fluff)

warnings: drinking, flirting ?, use of y/n once or twice, sunshine james x grumpy reader, teasing, confessions, use of the L word 🫣, kissinggg, a bit short

a/n: feel like i’ve written too much smut this month… but i might do another fic w the same concept and smut. kind of inspired by begin again by taylor swift.

(james is your mothers best friend’s son, just to sum it up)

your family and james’s have been close since always, you’d spend every possible festivity together. ever since you were little kids you did have a crush on him, once you grew up that developed into something else, surely. he was your best friend, but how come you turn bright pink every time he complimented you? how come he hated all the boyfriends you ever had? you hated to admit it but that did keep you up at night sometimes.

once you got into hogwarts, he always stuck by your side, he even introduced you to his friends, who had turned into your best friends because of it. you ended up closer to the girls, always with lily no matter what.

when the years passed by, you and james ended up developing your own traditions for the holidays, now after you graduated, you and your friends would stay at the potter’s beach house for the new years and christmas, you loved it so much. bunking with the girls, all of you staying in one room you and lily would always share a bed, sometimes you would sleep with alice or dorcas, but every once in a while you and james would sleep on the couch. and on december 27th, that was the occasion.

that evening it was colder than normal, you all stayed inside and messed around, drinking firewhisky and playing canasta.

you looked at your cards then looked at james, he was biting his upper lip, he always did that when he needed a specific card or was looking at yours, on this case, he was looking at yours.

“you cheater!” you shouted at him, sirius started to laugh, it was probably the fifth time he did that and you just realized now, when it came to james turn he went out, placing all the cards he had on the table.

“james, you’re an awful player” remus laughed, he was paired up with you, he threw his cards on the table.

“i don’t believe you, potter” you looked him dead in the eye, you were very serious about this game.

“im not lying!” he started getting defensive, his ears turning a bit pink.

“james, just empty your pockets” remus glared at him. james hesitantly got up, putting his hands in his pockets and quickly throwing out the cards all over the room,

“YOU WILL NEVER CATCH ME, MOONY!” he shouted, running to his room. james usually got very excited when drunk. remus looked at you, almost begging you to take his place this time.

“i’ll get him” you run to his room, knowing he was probably hidden behind the bathroom door, you opened it, and so when you went to check for him there was nothing there. you yelped, feeling a pair of hands on your shoulders, james started laughing as you slapped him on the shoulder, playfully.

“you prick!” you shouted out as he went back in the room, walking with his back to the bed, you pushed him onto it and he pulled you onto it, and so you found yourself straddling him, holding his wrists so he couldn’t push you.

“hey” he said, his voice low. his eyes wouldn’t leave yours and you were starting to go crazy, you couldn’t stop looking at him. you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking away first, though you did let go of his hands, and as he went to place them on your waist, frank opened the door, james quickly lowered his hands and you jumped off of him, being sure frank had seen it. james cleared his throat, sitting up on the bed.

“uhm, dinners ready” he awkwardly said,

“right” james sighed, getting up and offering you a hand

“you guys can go, i’ll just go freshen up really quick” you quickly walked to james’ bathroom, trying to understand why had that made your stomach tighten.

“what was-“ james interrupted frank,

“dont, really” he said, “dont look at me like that, man, its y/n. she’s my best friend” he whispered, as he was going out of the room.

“whatever you say, mate”

“i’m serious! it couldn’t happen even if i wanted to” he walked with james to the kitchen, they started placing the plates on the table,

“i’m just saying, it didn’t look like it” james rolled his eyes at the comment.

“stop it.” he finally said once you came our of the bathroom. he looked over to you, placing his plate in front of yours, a sweet smile plastered over his face. and then he saw the hoodie you were wearing, that was his.

the drinking kept on going as you all ate dinner, you were starting to get giggly, and the jokes that kept on coming weren’t helping at all. james watched you as you threw your head back laughing, just like a little kid, he couldn’t hide the look on his face.

remus watched him, nudging it so sirius as you smiled back, shyly. they both knew about his little crush, even though he wouldnt dare to admit it.

james had been spending the last 8 months considering that, maybe, love wasn’t for him. but since you and your ex broke up on halloween, his friends saw his spark begin again, and they also could see yours.

the way he could make you smile, how sweet he was next to you, god, you could get cavities just from talking to him. since you were little, people would always comment you both were the perfect duo, you were a grumpy day of rain and he was purely your sunshine.

he could make you laugh when no one else could, you even liked it when he touched you, even if you couldnt stand it with anyone else. sure, maybe the feelings you had would resurfaced every single time he touched you, but what could you do about it?

james felt like he was going crazy. fully crazy, like he should check himself into a mental hospital.

you were wearing his gryffindor hoodie.

you had found it on the beginning of the trip, shoved in the back of his wardrobe,

“can i keep this?” you asked, he quickly nodded,

“i dont feel like it would fit me anymore anyways” james had grown out of it over the years, but somehow it still was so oversized on you. you smiled at that, taking a sip from your firewhisky. james felt like he needed to do something or he would go crazy, you looked so good, he loved it when you wore his clothes. but to be fair, he loved it when you did anything.

his sock covered foot started caressing your calf, and you immediately looked at him, trying not to show any reaction, but the color of your cheeks did throw you under the bus.

“you alright?” dorcas asked, looking at you worriedly.

“yeah, dont worry” you quickly said, trying to ignore the way james was smirking, extending his hand to grab yours. he started cracking your knuckles, and you did hate it when he did that, but you might just let it go that night.

as the night went on, the flirting continued, as you were all in the living room, he casually sat next to you on the couch. which lead on to sirius and remus heading out, saying they would get some fresh air. they probably would just make out.

james wrapped his arm around your shoulder, scooching closer to you. maybe it was just the alcohol, but you knew james was incredibly resistant to it and he hadn’t drank that much. maybe it was normal james behavior and you were just overthinking it, yeah, that was probably it.

“what’s up?” he asked, looking at you with those eyes you loved so much.

“nothing” you answered sweetly, smiling awkwardly.

“you sure? you’ve been kinda off these days, doll”

“yeah, no need to worry, james. really, i’m fine.” no you weren’t, but you weren’t going to tell him. specially because he’s the one making you feel weird, or lovey dovey like lily had been saying. he smiled at you.

“alright then” he said lowly, the arm that was wrapped around your shoulders now on your waist. what was he doing?

“gonna grab some snacks, alright?” he said, getting up and flashing you a grin before leaving, you decide you can't help it. anyone's heart would flutter at that smile, that crooked, stupid smile. once he came back, he saw you had turned on the tv, some soft of horror film playing.

“what’s that?” he asked, sitting next to you.

“dunno’, its what’s on” you muttered, taking a chip from the bowl he had brought. as he sat next to you, he placed his hand on your upper thigh, you eyed him, cheeks flushed.

“eyes on the screen, hun” he muttered, you quickly turned your head, wondering if he was really doing this.

james wasn't really sure why he was doing it, teasing you like this, keeping one hand on the small of your back or high up on your thigh most of the time. it was kind of like teasing himself, he knew he couldn't have you but with every lingering touch and wandering hand, he just wanted you more.

he watches you, your eyes focused on the screen, cheeks red. plus, your reaction to him was an added bonus. he did enjoy that, specially when you looked so cute with his hoodie. you placed your head on his shoulder, eyes not leaving the screen.

30 minutes to the end of the movie, you were half asleep, james was hugging you from behind and he had his chin on your shoulder to watch the movie, but his attention was more directed to his hand on your thigh. the rest of your friends had already gone to bed, you didn’t even know what time it was.

you were very suddenly fully awake once the main character shouted out with a bloody and guttural scream:

‘PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP!’

and so you felt it. his lips. on. your. neck. that was probably making you more nervous than the whole movie. his soft, pink lips, giving you light pecks.

you looked over to him, a bit in shock

“sorry. was that alright?” he asked, you could tell he was nervous because of how his eyes would dart all over the room. you quickly nodded a yes, face turning to the tv. And just like that, his lips were on your neck again, giving it soft smooches as his hands hugged your waist. you knew you were fucked once you realized you had never felt so safe in your entire life.

you did try turning around to face him, but he held you firmly

“come on, i’m very interested in this movie, focus, okay?” he said lowly, kissing your neck again. you quickly were back to facing the screen, no questions asked.

once the movie was coming to an end, his kisses got sloppier and you surely couldn’t keep on watching the film because it was making you nervous, so you turned around to hug him and he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

“i love you, james” you muttered.

“i love you too, sweetheart.” he replied, casually like he always said it.

“no, don’t be like that” your heart was racing, you thought you could faint, hiding your face on the crook of his neck.

“what do you mean?” he asked, a worried look on his face.

“for merlins sake, potter” you sighed.

“for merlins sake what?” you could even hear his smile, you backed away, looking at him as he furrowed his brows.

“james, i’m so in love with you its stupid.”

and just like that, for the first time in your existence, james potter didn’t know what to say.

“sorry” you whispered, looking away from him, you were about to tear up when he asked,

“are you drunk still?” and so you shook your head in a ‘no’ motion.

“forget i ever even-“ he cut you off by kissing you. his lips were on yours and he was kissing you. James Fleamont Potter was kissing you.

“i love you so much” he smiled sweetly, you looked away, a shy grin on your face, his hand headed towards your chin, holding it softly so you faced him. “don’t look away.” your stomach did coil at that. “i love you so much its stupid.”

“not as stupid as you.” he chuckled at that as he surged towards you.

james kissed you firmly, surging forwards and making you fall back onto the couch. his right hand on the back on your neck and his left on your waist, his thumb brushing against the exposed skin when his your sweater hiked up.

you feel breathless and shy as your panting noises filled the silence of the room. your eyes meet, a loving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

and just like that, hes kissing you again.

842 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 7 months

Text

Protection IX

Read the rest here: Protection

Sorry about the drama, wish I could say it's over. However...

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort probably, some gooey stuff, some sad stuff.

Hope you'll all forgive me eventually <3

Just over 7k words.

Another big thank you to @freedomfireflies for pre-reading this part too to check for obvious awfulness.

The only solace he had was knowing she was the strongest wildflower he had ever met.

Groggy was an understatement. There was nothing she could compare to the feeling she had of waking up in a hospital bed again for the second time within three months. She blinked a few times and swore the beeps sounded almost like they were in her peripheral hearing if that were possible. But really, the most important sight and sound had nothing to do with the beeps or the hospital room at all.

Harry’s head was hung low. He seemed to be scrolling through his phone aimlessly. One of his warm hands was wrapped in hers so tightly, it made her palm sweaty, and it was so very perfect. He sighed softly—like he was in pain, and almost in response to the rhythmic beeping from the machine next to him. It took her a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. She only had a vague memory of what happened and how she got here because the only thing she remembered was Harry saying I love you before she fell asleep.

Of course, she didn’t have a concept of how much time had passed, but she was alive. So that was something.

When she first got her protection detail, one of the agents told her he thought spite alone would keep her alive long past her expiration date. At the time she snarled at him or something, but truthfully, she believed it. A little blood loss was nothing for her. It would mean more to her to outlive every one of the security agents. It would make her happy to make them cringe a bit more.

Plus, she had Harry to look at. She wanted him to touch her and kiss her. Harry was finally something she could look forward to. There was no way she could lose that—not for anything. She cleared her dry throat, gave his hand a squeeze as she spoke. “Feel like this’ll be more paperwork for you. Just shoulda died,” she whispered with humor dripping in her voice. Her throat was scratchy and broken with disuse. Her words slurred a little more than normal from the medicine swimming in her veins and having just woken up from a long nap.

Harry slowly turned his head toward her hearing her perfect, beautiful voice. Near black circles were painted on the skin below his eyes. His green irises contrasted sharply against the bloodshot whites. The stubble on his cheeks was approaching nothing like what she had ever seen on him. Harry was always clean shaven. Professional and proper. She smirked so cutely. Sleepy looking. Like Harry woke her up from one of her study naps. “Harry Styles,” she said softly. “Have you been sleeping?” She asked.

Harry stood up silently. His facial expression contorting into pain as he did. He pressed his free hand on her cheek before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to her forehead. It made her insides turn to liquid. There was no other way to describe it. Harry had been aching for the last few days waiting for her to wake up and it had been painful. But the relief his lips felt touching her skin was unmatched. His mouth ached in a whole new, perfect way.

Then he broke her heart. “I had t’see y’open your eyes, kitten. I have t’go now,” he squeezed her hand before he slowly began to release it. With his other hand touching her face, he stroked his thumb along her cheekbone.

The heart monitor betrayed her immediately because it skyrocketed. But she didn’t care. “Harry, no,” she croaked. “Please don’t leave me,” the monitor panicking like that caused an onslaught of nurses running to her room because they hadn’t seen it move above resting pace in nearly three days. But she didn’t know that.

“Oh, she’s awake,” a nurse said in surprise.

“Kitten. I have to go,” he repeated trying to pull his hand from her grip. “M’not supposed t’be here.” Her breathing turned to almost panting and she shook her head holding his hand as if her life depended on it. It certainly felt like it was. Harry outwardly presented a forlorn expression, but there was something in his eyes...

Was Harry smiling? She thought to herself. Smug bastard. Harry was wearing a plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Inconspicuous. Normal. Utterly hot for no reason at all even with the dark circles and what she assumed was a severe lack of sleep. The nurses were fluttering all around her, but she waved her free hand at them paying no mind to their worry or cares. Her gaze didn’t move from those pretty green eyes that she loved with every bit of herself. “Love,” Harry said gently. “You have t’listen.”

“Don’t leave me,” she begged again ignoring his smugness. “Everyone leaves me.” He looked pained by her request. Completely conflicted by what he wanted and needed to do. Which of course she had no idea what that entailed. Again, she still hadn’t a clue how long she had been out. There was so much she didn’t know, and her brain was fogged over.

But the one thing she did know was that Harry was here and she wasn’t going to push him away or let him get away—or she would die trying. Especially now that she knew a thing or two about that. That much was certain.

“Sweetie, we have to do a few things; he promised he would leave once you woke up. Your father was insistent that you—”

The sound of her father made her eyes narrow while her heart rate shot off higher. She glared at the nurse that said it, all while keeping hold of Harry’s hand. As much as he said he had to leave she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t protesting the death grip she had on his hand. Even with the fatigue and weakness she felt surprised she didn’t break one of his knuckles or fingers. Or maybe she did, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to care right now. He looked like he was beating himself up brutally both inwardly and outwardly.

She shook her head slowly at the mention of Mr. Secretary. “I will rip this IV out and I’ll rip my catheter out and walk out the door after him,” she growled out her threat.

“Sweetheart,” another nurse said already exasperated with her attitude. That had to be a new record. She wondered if Harry would ever laugh again because she thought about telling him such a statistic and hoped he would find it funny. Part of her thought he looked too distraught to care.

At the same time, she reached for the IV with her free hand to follow through on her threat. Harry quickly grabbed for it, pressing it above her head on the fluffy pillow with the hand that wasn't holding her wired arm. The nurses gasped at her reaction, and she imagined they were probably a little grateful for Harry stopping her. “Don’t,” he whispered gently to her. If he watched her bleed ever again, he would probably throw up.

It wasn’t the time, but it was quite hot the way he held her trapped against her bed. His voice was low and sultry without even meaning to be. The simple command of “don’t” would have set her heartrate higher if it wasn’t already thudding with anger at the mention of her dad. Moreover, the idea of him leaving didn’t give her much time to think about how nice it would be to be trapped under Harry’s body. She glared at him now, feeling betrayed by his diffidence to support her. “Don’t leave me,” she said evenly but Harry could tell she was mad...maybe even sad.

“He can stay.”

He closed his eyes and she saw his shoulders sink just barely. She knew he was relieved, and she would blame the dark circles on Harry’s lack of sleep. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking clearly, wasn’t understanding that they were just saying that. She glared at the nurses. “I swear to God, if I come back from whatever room you take me to and he’s not here I will throw the biggest fit you have ever seen you’ll have to sedate me again and then I will wake up even angrier and I will rip out every needle or tube you stick in me. I’ll refuse to eat. Don’t make him leave.”

They all looked at one another awkwardly, because clearly, that was the plan. “He shot you.”

Harry visibly flinched with his whole body. Oh, he’s going to hate himself forever.

“He saved my life.”

"He almost killed you."

Harry sighed, wincing and turning his face away from her, so he didn’t have to look her in the eye as they talked about him like he wasn’t there. He was never going to get over this. "There was no other way. I was dead no matter what. I trust him with my life. The second you let me out of here, I'm going straight to him. So, it's either you let him stay here and I do everything you ask, or I fight you on everything until I escape and go find him. Your call."

They were silent. Harry was still holding her hand above her head so she wouldn't reach for her IV. He turned back to look at her once she started her negotiation again. All while she argued he stared at her, like he was unsure that she was really alive. His face scanned for signs that something was wrong, that her eyes would flutter, or she’d seize or something from the cause of his stupid, terrible shot that left her without blood and oxygen in her brilliant, beautiful brain for so long.

But with each passing second and scanning every inch of her perfect face he was starting to believe she maybe, really, was okay.

He wanted to argue with her on behalf of the nurses that so kindly cared for her the last few days. Even when they wanted to kill Harry for hurting this perfect gorgeous girl and still being able to sit by her side. Frankly, he agreed with them—he didn’t deserve to be by her side. He should have been kicked out. He should have been fired.

Or they should have let her shoot him in the leg as well—something to ease his guilt.

But the idea of leaving her was going to break him. He wouldn't—couldn’t—have gone far. He already planned on stationing himself outside the main entrance so he could find her as soon as she was released.

"He can stay."

Harry exhaled all the air in his body. He was too tired to be skeptical, but apparently a three-day coma left her rested, skeptical, and feistier than ever. "Seriously?" She asked.

"Seriously. Please let us take you to get some tests."

She looked at Harry again; her expression was gentle. Harry adored her. "Please don't leave."

"I'll stay right here, love," he promised sitting back in the chair by her bedside. "Don't give them too much a fight."

She smiled. “Someone told me I’m so stubborn, so don’t hold your breath.”

He smirked and sat still in the chair. As if to say he wasn’t moving at all.

Harry intertwined his hands behind the back of his head as he tried pressing on some hidden pressure point that would ease the anxiety and headache he was getting. She’s awake. He had been texting his mum updates.

Oh, thank goodness! That’s great news, honey bun!! Send her my love.

Harry didn’t know how to reply so he didn’t. He would send another update when it was needed. Harry felt like pure shit. He was so glad—maybe ecstatic was the right word—that she was awake, but at what cost? The only reason he was here was because he was still listed as her emergency medical contact. Niall took his gun away from him almost immediately, but Harry was grateful because he didn’t even want to see it ever again.

“It’s protocol,” Niall said gently. Harry was going to jump out a window. He finally understood why she hated that word so much. “She asked you to,” he murmured quietly. Like Niall didn’t want anyone else to hear—and he probably didn’t. Harry gave the rundown while they sat in the waiting room...hoping and praying the surgeon would be able to fix her pretty, perfect leg. Harry grimaced at his words. “Harry, she’s...” he smiled shaking his head. “She might be the smartest person I’ve ever met; she wouldn’t have asked you to do that unless she was sure of it. It was an impossible situation. She has better chances of surviving a leg wound than a shot to the head and what very little I know of her, she probably calculated those odds herself,” Niall reminded him. “M’gonna have to tell them all but...” he shook his head. “If she could have shot herself, I bet she would have,” he smirked. Harry was too depressed to agree but the one little part of his brain that was waiting for her to be okay was still telling him that she was stubborn and lovely. Inwardly, he smiled at the thought of her shooting her own foot, literally because maybe Niall was right.

Once Niall did tell the others in the department, Harry was looked at like he was absolutely crazy. “Styles is probably the only one of us that didn’t want to shoot her,” one of them grumbled.

“Not the time, thank you,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“You’re suspended,” his supervisor said immediately. Harry nodded solemnly. Of course, he was. But everyone was forced to sit in the awkwardness that Harry was still her emergency contact. “Mr. Secretary doesn’t want you here.”

“Someone has to make medical decisions for her,” the surgeon appeared behind the wall of black suits of the men responsible for her safety.

“He’s the one—”

“He’s not even—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Is she okay?” Harry interrupted quickly. None of that other stuff mattered. She was the only thing that mattered. The woman that saved her life might be the only one that had any importance to Harry aside from her.

She smiled and nodded. “She’ll be fine. Definitely a lot of blood loss. We’ve kept her sedated... she... she’s a trooper,” she smirked. “She didn’t want to give up.”

Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and tried not to cry in front of all his colleagues. He stared at the floor. “Yeah...that sounds like her.”

“The point is, that kind of blood loss...we worry about how it may have affected the brain, so we’ve induced a coma and we’ll wean her off as her body focuses on healing and feels ready to come out of it.”

Harry thought he might die. “Can I see her?” He asked.

“You are not allowed—”

“Listen, I don’t really care about any of your protocols,” Harry thought she would love her surgeon. “He’s the emergency contact. Is there anyone that she would trust more than him who is here right now?” She asked. “Anyone of you married to her?”

One snorted. “I don’t know if she trusts anyone,” someone muttered.

“Harry’s the one,” Niall said confidently.

He felt sick to his stomach. Because even if she, Niall, and honestly probably the rest of his colleagues, were right to agree he was the one to make decisions for her, Harry felt like he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. What kind of person tells someone he adores her, invites her to Christmas, and then shoots her in the leg?

Harry and Niall exchanged a look before Harry followed behind the surgeon. There was so much they had to discuss and figure out. But mainly, that look meant the most important thing that had to be discussed. The elephant in the room: which agents were corrupt enough to kidnap her and why?

She looked at her wrists; wires and tubes were protruding from her arms every which way. Not to mention the bruises wrapping the circumference of them—a reminder of the zip tie that held her in place. Harry was watching her with a pained expression. She glanced at him after looking at her side table in hopeful search. “This is not your fault,” she had so much to tell Harry now that the major source of danger had passed. She couldn’t wait to tell him she was right about DSS. Nothing made her happier than the thought of telling him all the awful stuff she found out.

“Love,” he shook his head. “Who’s fault—”

She checked her wrists again as if what she wanted would suddenly appear. “Can you find me my scrunchie?” She interrupted. “My hair is bothering me.”

He was on his feet instantly. Turned to look through the box and bag situated on the mini sofa below the window of the room. It was all her belongings from the past few days. Niall had taken it upon himself and went to grab a slew of things for her (and Harry as well). “For when she wakes up,” Niall said patting his friend on the back who wouldn’t move from seat. “Go shower, I won’t move,” he promised and situated himself beside her as he looked her over. There wasn’t much. But some of it was found in the warehouse she was kept in. He found the scrunchie. “Is it not in there?” She asked quietly. “It’s really pretty—all flowery and glittery,” she pouted. Harry smiled as he fiddled with it making sure there was no blood on it because he couldn’t remember if it was the one in her hair from the warehouse. He didn’t want her to see any reminders of that awful day. He didn’t want to see any of those awful reminders either.

“S’here, love. Jus’ a second,” he promised. “Jus’...don’t want any blood on it.”

She sighed. “I want to shower so bad. I must look disgusting.”

He shook his head, turning to her. Gently, he coaxed her to shift forward so he could gather her hair into a ponytail and wrapped the scrunchie twice around her hair. “You’re alive,” he reminded her. As if she forgot. “You’re beautiful, Miss Wildflower.”

She wrinkled her nose at his compliment feeling her face warm at his appraisal. She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt like she had six days’ worth of grime on her. Her shower at home seemed like a paradise. “When can I leave?” She asked. She needed to tell Harry that his supervisor was a dick when there weren’t witnesses who may also be corrupt. Part of her was a little surprised that neither she nor Harry figured it out sooner.

But between the lack of privacy and her mind slightly unfocused between the medicine and the coma, it was hard to keep track of the pressing issue. Plus, Harry looking so unbelievably pretty didn’t help her attention to detail either.

He snorted. “Love,” he rolled his eyes. Harry didn’t want her to leave until her leg was completely healed. But that would be weeks. So, that was a bit unreasonable on his part, but his intention was clear.

“Harry, I want to go home. I want to take a five-hour shower, watch a rom-com, fill out our spreadsheet, and make out with you until I think I might actually die.” He smirked immediately at her idea. Despite how crummy he felt about everything else it was nice to hear her cute thoughts.

That dimple of his, (the one that previously drove her mad because it always came with the word protocol) was now the most delightful thing she had ever seen. “Yeah?” He murmured. “Y’want t’make out?” He asked a tad smugly.

She nodded eagerly, allowing his smugness because she really wanted to kiss him so very badly. “Yes, and maybe we don’t even have to watch a movie,” she sounded pretty seductive for someone that hadn’t showered in six days and Harry thought that maybe she was sexier than she had ever been without even trying.

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead again. “I’ll find out when y’can go,” he skimmed the back of his finger over her cheek softly.

“Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Yes, kitten?” He would do anything for her. That much was clear. He would probably learn to tie balloon animals if she asked. He traced his fingertip over her lips, and she thought she might have a heatstroke. “What d’you need?”

“What’s your favorite song?” She asked so innocently Harry could have cried.

He sighed and smiled at her, shaking his head. “Free Falling the John Mayer version,” he told her.

“I like the Tom Petty one more,” she said knowingly, “But it’s a good song either way...Favorite movie?”

He rolled his eyes amazed she didn’t give one ounce of care to how she was feeling or the fact she had woken up from a coma less than six hours ago. “The Notebook.”

“Favorite TV show?”

He snorted. “Er...Family Guy,” he admitted shyly. She giggled. He waited as she thought of her next question. He wouldn’t leave the room without her okay.

“Can we still go to England?” She asked so quietly. There were security agents outside. She needed Harry alone before she could tell him all the stuff he knew. She hadn’t seen his supervisor since she woke up. She had to keep calm until they were alone.

Harry thought his heart would break. All alone. Just the two of them. Away from protocol, corrupt agents, and as far away from that awful building and memories as he could possibly get. He would take such good care of her and dote on her. He had no idea she was thinking the same things but for very different reasons. He nodded immediately, a pretty, perfect grin stretching across his face that made her briefly forget about why she wanted and needed to be alone with him. “Yes, honey. Whatever y’want. Mum and Gem are looking forward t’meeting you.”

She nodded with a smile, her expression seemed relieved, and he felt bad she was relieved by the notion. There wasn’t a place on earth where he wouldn’t find her nor take her if she wanted it. “Harry?” She whispered softly again.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Will you kiss me?” She asked, like he would reject her.

Never, in any universe, any lifetime, any dream, would he reject such a request. But he was too busy doing as she asked, to explain that to her.

But somehow, he thought she got it.

When she opened her eyes again, Harry wasn’t there. She could see two people standing in the hall just outside her door. More security. She finally got her shower, a nurse had to sit with her the whole time, so, it was awkward and uncomfortable. She almost would have preferred Harry had helped her. At least he would have accepted the discomfort she felt. (And maybe she could have snuck a few more not-so-subtle kisses.)

A small plastic cup sat on the table in front of her. Inside was a little bouquet of what could only be described as wildflowers: small little petals of violet, red, and yellow. She never had a combination of them on her walls or really thought about wildflowers ever. But right now, she wanted to. Her mind spinning with the need to purchase hundreds of fake flowers of this exact bouquet to remind her of this very arrangement every day. To remind her that Harry was still here despite how cranky and annoying she had been. Despite almost dying. She picked up the notecard propped against the cup.

The door opened but she was too busy admiring the flowers and reading the I adore you over and over to bother looking up for him. If August-Harry told her he was putting a tracking device in her clothes she would have killed him with her bare hands. But now she was comforted by the fact. She honestly would encourage it. “They’re really pretty,” she said softly.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Her heart monitor once more betrayed her. The sound of her dad’s voice wreaked havoc on her, but it was worse letting him know that she was distraught by his company. Her brain started screaming for Harry’s name.

“Dad,” she blinked. He sat beside her where Harry had been keeping vigil for the last few days. She wanted to kick him out of that seat. It was Harry’s seat. Her dad didn’t once try to find her. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged the fact she was missing nor cared about her well-being and seeing him right now... she knew why.

He eyed her curiously. “You know, honey. You have thwarted every one of my plans. Every single one. Ever since you were little.”

She prided herself on being intelligent. It was how she often evaded her security detail, including Harry. It was how she was so successful in school and how she managed to balance all the things in her life up to this point. But nothing prepared her for her dad at that moment. And really, she should have known. The driver told her in so many words that it was him.

“What do you mean?” She asked calmly the heart monitor not sensing the anxiety coursing through her.

For as much as she had no idea of what was about to happen—what her father was about to say—not one bit of her was surprised when he did speak.

She was fuming in her seat. Zip ties around her wrists again. Part of her hoped that her father never released her because she was going to kill him herself. She wasn’t wearing shoes so there was no way Harry could find her now. If she wasn’t so angry, she would cry. Harry probably thought she was gone for good because there was just nothing—no note, no goodbye, no notice. Nothing. It broke her heart to think about leaving him; moreover, that he would think she left without saying goodbye. Her leg was aching without pain medication, and she didn’t trust herself that she could even run from the car fast enough even if she was brave enough to roll out in the middle of traffic. Which she strongly contemplated.

She looked at the man in the front seat. He didn’t speak as he drove. It made her so mad. Harry’s supervisor. She knew DSS was awful. She hoped Niall would leave the business. She hoped Harry would too. She hadn’t seen her phone in almost a week (even if for her it was only three days), and she wanted it so badly that she could send her location to Harry. The only solace she had was that Harry would probably search every house in the city, door by door, looking for her. If she could stay alive and not pass out from the pain in her leg, she might live long enough to see Harry again.

That was if this man didn’t kill her first.

Harry nearly dropped her coffee in the doorway, seeing her empty bed. The flowers and note were still on the table. All her belongings were still neatly piled on the mini sofa under the window. He checked the bathroom, nothing. “She was just checked out by her father,” the nurse said behind Harry. “He had an event or something; they had to leave in a hurry,” she explained the remnants of his favorite person left behind.

No shoes. Harry groaned. At least she was with her father.

He texted Niall. What event does The Secretary have?

??? Niall responded.

Harry felt his stomach drop, seeing the question marks, but did his best to ignore it. Maybe Niall wasn’t privy. It would just make things more complicated. He could always go back to her place and wait for her. Maybe he’d make her those California burritos she kept showing him—the ones with French Fries in it.

She’s checked out of the hospital. The nurse said they have an event.

Niall called him almost instantly. “You’re off the detail still,” he reminded him in a hushed whisper.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “She doesn’t have her phone back because she was kidnapped if you recall. M’also the one that found her. Do me a favor.”

Sighing, Niall muttered curses under his breath. “There’s nothing on his calendar, Harry.”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t just leave without me,” he said. “Not after that.”

“Harry, you know she does this. I know it’s different for you...but this isn’t uncommon for her. Plus, if she’s with her dad then...I mean...he’s probably mad despite,” Niall sighed heavily. “Look, I know what you did and why you did it but—”

“Niall, shut up,” he nearly groaned dropping his head back in annoyance.

The anxiety was increasing. His hand started to shake holding the phone to his ear, feeling something ominous before it fully registered. “M’not even supposed to be talking to you—especially when I’m at work,” he muttered. “There’s nothing on the schedule—oh...oh my God.”

“What, Niall?” Harry spit, seething already.

“She’s with her dad?” He asked tentatively.

“Yes, thankfully,” even if Harry didn’t like him and she hated him, at least he was her family.

Niall was silent. “No...” he shook his head. Harry could sense it. “Not thankfully Harry.”

Harry did drop the coffee cup then, struggled a bit as he grabbed her box and bag of belongings. He was only vaguely aware of Niall’s voice and the sound of the nurse shouting after him as he sprinted for the exit. Harry was all but public enemy number one at the hospital and for DSS. Without her defense, he had no leads, no help. Niall was listing the main points. Her dad paid someone. Her mom wasn’t supposed to die. But of course, her mom wouldn’t let her daughter die. It would bring a sympathetic vote.

He was going to kill her for more power, pity. A broken family man who would do anything to bring the people responsible for his family, his lovely wife and his beautiful daughter to justice.

Harry had a lot to make up for, given that he shot her no less than four days ago. It was a miracle she didn’t bleed out. He was never going to forgive himself, even if she already had. But he felt so totally helpless. There were no leads. No one knew where she was.

Part of him believed the division didn’t even care if she died because she was a pain in the ass. Harry was without a weapon, without resources. He made it to his car, dumped her bag of everything she had on the back seat and sifted through it all looking for a clue, the biggest clue he hoped could be there. Her dead phone, her jeans with the blood soaked through and through, her sweatshirt with her college’s name across the front also soaked with blood—he had to get her another one...why did he keep thinking about that!—a pair of Christmas earrings, and those perfect shoes with the little AirTag in them that saved her life once, but wouldn’t be able to save her again.

The only solace he had was knowing she was the strongest wildflower he had ever met.

And the tracking device he put in her scrunchie wasn’t in her belongings that he had spread out across his backseat.

“Why did he even have me?” She grumbled out the window. She was somehow calm. Probably because it was her father. All along. Someone she knew well...someone she should have realized was at the source of all this craziness. At least it wasn’t like the driver who held her at gunpoint.

“Your mother wanted you,” he stated simply.

“And his plan was to kill me?” She rolled her eyes. No wonder mom died. She would never let that happen to me. “Why didn’t he just...not be with Mom? Why did he have to ruin both our lives...all of our lives?”

“Love makes you do weird things. You should know that. Look what happened to you with Harry. Never thought I’d see the day you like an agent and here you are falling in love with one.”

She didn’t like the way he brought up Harry. She glared out the window trying to think of an escape. Something Harry told her when they went over her fail-safe ideas, it had to be somewhere in the back of her mind. Even the general safety tips from DSS that she hated so much, they had to come in handy now.

Would their loyalty to her father mean they couldn’t stop him from killing her? It was quite a humble moment for her. All those years of torturing agents and creating mountains of paperwork, building walls up so she didn’t even need protection...now they would probably let her die as the opportunity had presented itself.

Once more, she thought if she wasn’t so mad, she would probably just cry and cry and cry.

She wished Harry would suddenly appear and fix it.

She really wished he got to put tracking devices in her clothes before she was kidnapped.

Again.

Harry was trying to keep calm because the last thing he needed was a car accident on his way to her blinking little dot on his map. He impatiently watched it blip keeping a safe distance but not so far that he couldn’t get to her quicker if need be.

Where was he taking her now?

Niall informed Harry that the driver that he placed two bullet holes in, caved for a deal immediately. He told them exactly who he was hired by and even if her father got out of this situation, there was no way it wasn’t shady.

She’s never going to forgive me for tracking her.He thought to himself. Where on earth were they going? She’s never going to let me live it down that DSS is actual Hell.He thought. That’s good. Keep thinking about never’s. She’ll live just to say I told you so.

That, Harry was certain.

Mom liked the water. Her stories of growing up on the coast were one of the main reasons she wanted to go to school in a city by the water. There were tons of great schools of course, but it kept her close to her mom as well. She remembered her mom taking her for college visits nearby like it were yesterday and how she showed her all her old haunts and some of the best and most lovely places to get away for a bit and just be in nature.

It was poetic, in a way. Dying where one of her happiest memories with her mom would be. A nice overlook with some rough waves—especially when it was windy and winter.

Which of course it was.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Your father pays me,” he reminded her.

She stared at him. “You’re a coward,” she stated simply then looked out the window to keep from crying. She was not going to give him the satisfaction. “Why here?” She asked.

“A visit for old time’s sake; you and Dad just want to remember Mom...” He explained.

Other than the sound of the tires rolling on the road, it was silent in the car. She wished she could move her hands. Wished she could escape. Wished she wasn’t a sitting duck and could just do something, anything! Even if it was wrong. “Did you kill my mom, too?” She had to know.

“Your mom chose—”

She shook her head, this time the tears filled her eyes. “No, if you’re going to kill me, you’re going to tell me the truth. Did you kill her?”

He didn’t answer. But it was the only answer she needed.

Swallowing thickly, she silently prayed to every god she could think of, every spirit, every entity, every power in the universe. But mostly she thought so very hard about her mom. Like she told Harry, she believed she was out there, somewhere. Her spirit was too strong and stubborn to just fizzle out.

If her spirit was out there, there wasn’t a chance she would let something happen to her nor Harry if she asked.

“That driver you got is going to turn on you,” she said knowingly.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He parked at the little spot, pulled her out of the car, the icy wind chilled her immediately. With just socks on her feet, it felt like her toes went numb immediately. Her leg ached and she grimaced and groaned in pain as he pulled on her arm toward the edge of the cliff where she could hear the waves crashing against the rocky side. “He was just a pawn.”

“So are you...Dad will sell you out too.”

“Once your dad gets what he wants, anything I could be blamed for will simply be pardoned,” he told her.

Her heart was so loud in her ears. It was so cold tears were now in her eyes and she had no control over it. It was bad.

What was the last thing she said to Harry before she took a nap? She wished it was I love you. She wished so very badly that it was something of worth because this was horrific. Harry was never going to know she loved him. He had to know, right? She told him all of those personal things, how she asked him questions about his favorites, and all those things they did together even though they weren’t quite a couple but not quite the typical protector-protectee relationship. She needed him to know.

She hoped he knew.

“So th-this is it?” She asked, her teeth chattering. She couldn’t even wrap her arms around herself for warmth because of the stupid zip ties. It wasn’t fair. “You’re going t-to push m-me off the cliff? S-someone,” Harry for certain would never believe the lie he told. Whatever that was going to be, “is going to sus-spect—”

“No,” he smiled wryly. “It was an accident,” he explained. “You fell into the water looking too closely. Slipped. Banged your head. Tragic. After all your fighting to get better, too,” he shrugged. “It’s a real shame,” he said pulling her toward the edge.

She was unbalanced as it was; her leg was probably aching, and her hands couldn’t outstretch to support the awkward angle he was holding her.

Harry could practically smell her floral scented shampoo even from his cover of the trees. He had to park over half a mile away, in a turn off hidden by a bunch of trees. It was a miracle he wasn’t gasping for breath loud enough to be heard from how fast he sprinted to get to her little blinking dot. From his standpoint, he could almost see the determined look on her face. He had never admired her as much as he did as he watched her then.

If there was one thing she hated more than DSS, it was being underestimated. And more than anything, Harry knew that she was going to fight, as she always did, to her very last stubborn breath. He was only slightly less worried because at least she wasn’t bleeding profusely. He could get to her if he needed to in a graver situation. But he wanted his supervisor gone. Harry was also without a weapon and therefore at a severe disadvantage. The pocketknife he had on him wouldn’t do much against the gun he could see in his holster.

But he could see that beautiful glittering scrunchie twisted in her hair. Her favorite. His favorite. He was strongly considering (and hoping) asking her if they could just put a chip in her.

He hurried down along the side of the cliff. The drama of this setup was too much for Harry. There was so much history behind it. It was all plotted and planned perfectly—if that was the sort of goal someone terrible wanted to accomplish; Harry could admit that. He kept cover behind some rocks to make sure if anything went awry, they wouldn’t notice him—he couldn’t notice Harry.

Harry hoped she knew he would find her again. He wished she wasn’t scared because he knew behind that strong façade, she was probably terrified. With no way of communicating to her that he would never let anything happen to her ever again, bodyguard or not, she had to be more scared than she ever had been.

Harry could vaguely hear him still talking to her, taunting her. The words didn’t reach his ears because of the wind and the sound of the waves. He was desperate for him to shut up. But he couldn’t look. If he saw her fall...

The moment he heard a splash his heart nearly gave out. Within seconds the sound of an engine disappearing was enough for Harry to finally turn around to see her struggling to get her bearings between the waves and only one functioning extremity. Diving into the chilly winter water, he hoped it wasn’t too late to save her again.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @be-with-me-so-happily @cherryshouse @foreverxholland @tenaciousperfectionunknown @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cherrystyle @kaiohnsa

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

207 notes · View notes

sotwk · 1 month

Text

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.”

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers.

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door.

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit.

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed.

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement.

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing.

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

For more SotWK Fanfiction: Fanfiction Masterlist

Elves Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @quickslvxrr @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell