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better than gold | l.hc

genre ➳ historical au (early 19th century), fluff, angst, friends to lovers pairings ➳ nobleman!haechan x fem!reader word count ➳ 16.4k (added more after proofreading...) warnings ➳ mentions of alcohol, violence (threats), classism info ➳ this is the first installment of boats against the current, an 00 line series! click here to read the other works :)

the present: august, 1912

The grandfather clock's heavy toll resonates throughout your house's wooden walls, quickly shocking you awake from where you lie sleepily on your desk. It is not the first time the heavy family heirloom has done so, and despite your protests, your father insists on keeping it.

Outside, the sky is pitch black, only illuminated by the lonely moon. You hear the faint chirping of crickets from far away, and you wonder if he’ll be coming today.

As if spoken into existence, you hear a rustling below you, definitely made by something much larger than a wild rabbit. Leaning your body out of the window, you look down to see a familiar face staring back up at you.

“You’re early today,” you say.

“Will you believe me if I say I missed you too much at the party?” Despite how the darkness prevents you from seeing his expression, you know a mischievous grin decorates his lips.

Even though it definitely isn’t the first time Donghyuck has attempted to scale the walls of your home, it still makes your mouth turn dry. You watch nervously as he deftly moves from the trellis to the carved marble eaves of your window with ease of experience. Donghyuck’s definitely strong enough to hold on even if he loses his footing, and smart enough not to get himself killed. Still, he’s usually slightly tipsy from his parties, and you are not sure if it is the best idea to have him climbing structures unattended in the middle of the night. Though it isn’t the brightest idea, you’re half ready to leap from the window after him if he falls.

Five minutes later, Donghyuck is standing in your bedroom, clothes and hair slightly rumpled, and a triumphant grin on his face.

The first time he had done this, you had almost been out of your mind with fear. Both for Donghyuck, and at the thought that someone could walk in at any time. Had one of the maidservants, or even worse, members of the family, discovered him here, the both of you would have been as good as dead.

No matter that Donghyuck had been your best friend and confidante from before you could even walk. In society’s eyes, you were an unmarried woman, and him a bachelor. And those two did not mix, especially not unchaperoned in a bedroom close to midnight.

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck has made himself comfortable by your fireplace, sinking into the armchair which he always complains is much too stiff, while you chide him for his poor posture.

You shake your head. “Nothing much. How was your week?”

“You know me, Y/N. The usual.”

The usual meaning alcohol, women and cards. The reality wasn’t as bad as you presented it to be, of course. Donghyuck wasn’t some sort of degenerate, unlike some of the men you had actually met. He was just a flirty, reckless fool with too much time on his hands, and an avid passion for red wine.

“Did any poor girl come after you this time for breaking her heart?” You inquire, amused.

“Well, I did get champagne poured on my head by a very angry woman. I think her name was Hana?” Donghyuck complains, his lips settling into a pout.

“Honestly, you should figure out by now that you can’t just flirt with women and leave them hanging. It’s not a nice thing to do, you know?” You chide slightly, but you don’t hold it against Donghyuck. He’s never given anyone false promises, making it clear that he was there for a good time. His dalliances have also never gone beyond honeyed words and occasional meals. It’s not his fault that feelings often get entangled, and unreciprocated. Still, his life would be much easier if he didn’t constantly have a string of jilted lovers out for his blood.

“But it’s fun,” Donghyuck replies nonchalantly, and you roll your eyes. “Enough about me. What has my dearest Y/N been up to?” He asks, leaning forward to hear you better.

Your shoulders sink a little, and Donghyuck immediately notices it. However, he remains silent, waiting for you to begin speaking. “I’m not sure what I could tell you, since I’m stuck in the house every day anyways. I hate to say this, but your visits are the most exciting part of my week.”

Even though that should make Donghyuck happy - he enjoys spending time with you, after all, and vice versa - he knows that isolation is taking its toll on you. He feels irrationally angry at your parents, but bites his tongue. He knows you don’t like it when he speaks ill of them, even if he knows this is unfair to you and he’s technically right.

It’s his fault, after all. If the both of you hadn’t been photographed together by that gossip newspaper, your father would likely have never lost his temper. Even if Renjun’s estate was safe, anyone could have come in during a party.

Donghyuck should have known better. Done better.

It’s been a month since you’ve been confined at home, and three weeks since Donghyuck started his weekly wall-climbing escapades. Before this, the both of you would meet almost weekly. Once your virtual house arrest started, Donghyuck found himself missing your presence, as if a hole had opened in his life with nothing to fill it.

For you, the confinement had been more mind-numbing than anything. Besides your daytime lessons, you found yourself dawdling aimlessly around the house, with little to do, and desperately missing the city.

Donghyuck notices your expression gradually get more desolate, and he immediately snaps himself out of his thoughts. He’s here to make you feel better, not act as a walking reminder of your missing freedom.

“Well, I’ll try to stay longer, then. Be grateful. Not everyone can have the honour of being in my presence for such an extended period of time,” Donghyuck states cockily, and you laugh at him.

Just like that, he’s lightened your mood, despite the sombre nature of the conversation. It’s something he does easily, coming up with a witty jab to amuse you.

You’re sorry to see Donghyuck go when he finally leaves two hours later, his face considerably less flushed after he had sobered from the alcohol. You had also forced him to down two glasses of water and some biscuits, so he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache. Even stuck at home, you want to do what you can to care for Donghyuck’s well-being. At least his house isn’t that large of a distance away from yours.

Had this been three years ago, your parents would have allowed him to stay over in a heartbeat. Now, he’s more like some sort of fugitive, every interaction with Donghyuck reduced to clandestine meetings.

Still, times change so very quickly, shifting like quicksand. You just pray Donghyuck and yourself won’t get swallowed in and lose each other along the way.

the past: september, 1897

Donghyuck doesn’t like crying people.

He would rather his classmate throw a tantrum and kick him, than cry in his face. He decides that he especially doesn’t like girls who sob quietly and sniffle afterwards, refusing to speak to him for the rest of the day. It makes Donghyuck feel bad, and that’s his least favourite feeling.

He wants to say that he didn’t mean to spill milk all over your new satin dress, but he supposes he did mean it if he was the one who decided to start running around the playroom. Donghyuck thinks you might be even more upset if you found out he told a lie to you. The teacher looks like she’s at a loss, and Donghyuck feels as if he needs to take matters into his own hands, and make amends.

Just so you don’t cry again and make Donghyuck feel guilty, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

The drawing that Donghyuck hands to you twenty minutes later is colourful and messy, almost symbolic of the boy sitting across of you.

“I did this for you. I’m sorry for ruining your dress,” he mumbles, looking down nervously at his sock-clad feet. Pretty Y/N, it says, underneath a clumsily-drawn stick figure of you. And in the far corner of the paper lies another figure, almost as if exiled. Stupid Donghyuck is scribbled next to a drawing of himself, deliberately made much uglier with downturned eyebrows and a jagged mouth. Your eyes widen at his description of himself. The teacher said that was a bad word, you can’t help but think.

Despite your tear-stained cheeks, a little smile pokes out from the corner of your lips. Still, you don’t say anything, causing Donghyuck’s heart to begin speeding up in nervousness. Unbeknownst to himself, he is anxiously tapping his feet on the ground, waiting for you to respond.

“I…like the drawing. And I’m sorry your milk was spilt,” you mutter to yourself, but Donghyuck’s keen earns pick it up. He smiles a toothy grin at you, happy to be forgiven. Across the classroom, your teacher watches fondly, smiling to herself. The both of you spend the rest of the afternoon together, after you ask Donghyuck if you can borrow his pencils to add to the drawing.

From that day on, you and Donghyuck are inseparable. Donghyuck is almost like a magnet glued to you, following you around wherever you go. He’s the one to both steal your snacks and share them with you, the one who teases you but also hits another boy for making you cry.

Your parents eventually recognise the little boy who walks out of class with you every day, hand in hand.

“Who is this, Y/N?” Your mother asks sweetly, leaning down to match your heights.

“He’s my friend. Donghyuck.” Donghyuck knows to bow politely despite his young age, and you can tell from the slight smile on your mother’s face that she’s already pleased with him.

‘Would Donghyuck like to come over for lunch today?” Your father asks.

“We have ice cream. Our cook used to work at an ice cream parlor,” you whisper conspiratorially in Donghyuck’s ear. His eyes widen immediately, and he looks at you eagerly. Ice cream is one of Donghyuck’s favourite foods, but he’s rarely allowed to have it.

“Well, then I guess it’s settled. The both of you can sit in the back with the nanny.”

The kindly-looking woman who is Donghyuck’s nanny helps the both of you into the car. You still remember the first day you had met her, where you laughed at Donghyuck for needing a nanny to follow him around.

“Don’t your parents pick you up from school, Donghyuck?”

“They’re very busy with their business. My nanny is the one who spends time with me at home,” Donghyuck had mumbled, looking down at his hands. His expression was strangely sorrowful for that of a seven-year-old boy.

“Well, you can come over after school, if you want. I’m sure your nanny will agree.”

And that marked the start of countless sun-lit afternoons spent at your family home, until Donghyuck became a regular, fixed presence in your life even as the both of you grew up.

february, 1908

You could not wait for this night to end.

The idea of a debutante ball was glamorous and had drawn you in at first. After all, it sounded like a dream. A ball celebrating your transition to eighteen years of age, from child to adult. You had spent the months before devoting time to lessons to prepare, endless hours given to ballroom dancing and etiquette.

However, the long-awaited night itself had passed by in a rapid blur of conversations with strangers whose names you did not remember, and dances that left you dizzy and slightly breathless. You had missed out on dinner because of the constriction of your dress, and it left you starving two hours later.

You muttered a polite excuse to the group that you were standing with, making a beeline for the gilded doors leading towards the balcony. You had expected more from alcohol when trying it for the first time, but the champagne had only left an uncomfortable flush in your cheeks that was quickly cooled by the night air. Growing up had been a little disappointing, if you could say so yourself.

“There you are.” The intrusion of someone else’s voice causes you to jump in shock before you quickly relax once you realise who it is.

Donghyuck was dressed in a fine suit, tailored neatly to his lean figure. Still, he would probably outgrow it before the year ended. Within the past two years, Donghyuck had grown rapidly, now over half a head taller than you, his shoulders widening much too quickly. His speaking voice had faded into a low honey timbre but retained some of its childish cadences, especially when he got excited. You almost didn’t recognise his voice at first, considering the last time you heard it was much too long ago.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Donghyuck’s arrival at your debutante ball is a pleasant surprise, considering his family had embarked on a grand tour of Europe just a few months ago.

By right, he should have been in Florence at this very moment. You hadn’t expected him to return until next summer, instead having to fill the Donghyuck-sized gap in your life with his postcards and your carefully written letters. Telephoning was difficult, especially when Donghyuck was constantly travelling from province to town to city.

Looking at your best friend properly now, Donghyuck seems slightly different, older. The way he carries himself is more confident, as if he’s at ease with himself. He’s grown up, you realise, and self-consciousness overtakes you. Maybe you still look like a child next to him, unsurely dangling on the precipice between maturity and childishness.

“Do you really think I would miss your debutante for anything? I just need to join them back in Vienna next month.” His voice is painfully familiar, but hearing it in person is so much better than over the phone.

You felt Donghyuck’s absence more than you allowed yourself to acknowledge, you realise. Having him next to you makes it easier to breathe, even if your corset is much too tight.

“I missed seeing you, you know,” Donghyuck says, and you turn to him, breath hitching slightly. The both of you rarely exchange any terms of affection, if any at all. The last time you told Donghyuck you missed him was perhaps over a decade ago, when he had been sick and missed coming to preparatory school for a few days.

You hope there aren’t any eavesdroppers in the vicinity who might misunderstand. Within your own private circles, you and Donghyuck are safe. Almost everyone knows the both of you have been attached at the hip since young, and no one jumps to conclusions. But here, with the curious, judging eyes of strangers? You cannot help but be scared, for both yourself and Donghyuck. Still, you nod, a silent acknowledgement of Donghyuck’s statement.

Just then, you hear the faint sounds of applause and cheering coming from the ballroom, and you realise the clock has just struck midnight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” Donghyuck is the first to wish you, ahead of your family. He looks slightly nervous as he pulls something out from his jacket pocket, and you look over at him curiously.

“I got you a present while I was in France. It reminded me of you,” he murmurs, and the sight suddenly reminds you of that exact moment in kindergarten when he first handed you that drawing.

The blue velvet box is sleek and elegant, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It opens neatly to reveal a matching bracelet and necklace, a little sun charm fashioned in gold and diamond dangling from the end of both. You don’t miss the symbolism of it, and look up at Donghyuck.

“It’s lovely. Can you put it on for me?” Donghyuck nods, and the air feels strangely tense, charged with an unfamiliar energy. His hands are gentle as he places the necklace gently around your neck, only fumbling slightly before it's set in place. The cool metal is jarring against the warmth of your skin, and you shiver slightly, though you’re not sure if it's from the metal or from Donghyuck’s fingers accidentally brushing against the nape of your neck. He moves to your wrist then, and your eyes are drawn to his cuff links.

They are in the exact same design as the jewellery he gifted you, just slightly smaller. He did that on purpose, you realise, and notice the mirth in his eyes. No one will notice, unless they look closely at both you and Donghyuck.

It feels intimate, like a shared secret between the both of you.

A small proof of your friendship with him, for you to know, even if no one else does.

He finally steps away from you once the bracelet is secured, and you lift it up to observe it carefully. Despite the lack of light, the pendant gleams brightly, almost as if imbued with its own glow, a sun in itself. A little piece, a reminder of Donghyuck, to carry around wherever you go.

It had simply been a lucky coincidence that the debutante ball fell on the exact day of your birthday. However, looking at Donghyuck now, standing next to you on the balcony, you’re suddenly infinitely grateful for the stroke of luck that allowed it to happen.

march, 1908

Donghyuck absolutely detested carriage rides, especially when they were with someone whose presence he did not enjoy.

There were still five more hours to Vienna, but Donghyuck already felt exhausted at the idea of what he would have to endure once he reached. The excitement of the grand tour had been diminished by the ever-looming presence of his parents, and he knew that their demands would only increase once he returned home. After all, he would be formally considered an adult.

He decides to stare absentmindedly out the window, at a dazzling landscape of white and green. Donghyuck’s attention inadvertently drifts to the entire reason he had even left in the first place.

It had not been easy to convince his parents to allow him to leave halfway through their tour of Florence, especially when the city had been the location for many of his father’s meetings. Meetings where Donghyuck’s presence had been required. However, once introductions had passed, Donghyuck found himself no different from a piece of furniture, more ornamental than functional in nature.

Of course, his parents were unaware of the true reason Donghyuck so desperately wished to return home.

He had found the opportunity when his father needed documents delivered to their home address, and someone to approve said documents. Donghyuck had volunteered with little hesitation, even if it meant rushing a ten-day journey within four. He had little sleep, both from moving from train to train and forcing himself to keep awake to finish the work he had promised his father.

His fatigue seemed to melt away, however, when he saw you in that pearl-white ballgown and matching gloves, hair pinned in a chignon with feathers interspersed in between.

The delight in your eyes when you saw Donghyuck made him feel as if every single snide comment made by his father meant nothing, minuscule compared to the faint smile on your face as he placed the necklace around your neck.

Donghyuck had been hesitant at the atelier, unsure if it was too much. Perhaps you didn’t want a gift so clearly associated with him, even if the both of you were close. He was grateful now, however, and thought that the sun pendant looked so much more beautiful on you than it ever did on him.

He found it strange that before your debutante, he had been fine with just exchanging postcards and letters detailing your days. Months had been spent like this from city to city, as he took in the sights and sounds of a place so very different from home.

However, the memory of your presence now remained fresh in his mind, and Donghyuck found your absence even more noticeable. As far as Donghyuck knew, you had never been to another country, much less a separate continent. You would have taken in the architecture with starry eyes, and dragged Donghyuck around with you to savour as many cuisines as possible.

He decides to close his eyes, and pretend that you are sitting in the same cabin across from him, travelling together.

may, 1909

You are nineteen when everything comes crashing down.

“You should thank me, Lee Donghyuck. I just saved your life.”

‘I could have handled that on my own,” Donghyuck mutters petulantly, and you throw a questioning glance at him. The moment he had become an eligible bachelor, Donghyuck was quick to gain the attention of many women, owing to his natural charm. Of course, he easily soaked up the attention and relished in it, quickly becoming the centre of parties.

One lady, in particular, had been notably persistent, and you almost admired her for her efforts. She had shown up consistently at every party Donghyuck had thrown or attended, staying for hours and attempting to strike up a conversation. When that was unsuccessful, she extended her reach to Renjun and Jeno. It definitely didn’t help that she seemed to appear everywhere they went.

“She would have still been tailing you if I hadn’t come,” you huff, striding into the main hall of your family estate. Donghyuck follows in after you, an amused smile on his face.

“Oh, what would I do without you, Y/N? You’re my saviour from the immense threat of overly eager noblewomen. How should I repay you?” He has a hand over his heart, sighing dramatically, and you roll your eyes at Donghyuck’s theatrics.

“One day, you’re going to regret it. If I find your cold, dead body in an alleyway because you angered the wrong person, I won’t be the one to avenge you.” The both of you walk into the familiar archway of your house, Donghyuck smiling at the familiar housemaids that make up your staff. He has already been a consistent presence since young, and most of them have seen both of you grow up together.

“Well, I think it would be more likely that you’re the murderess out for my blood-”

“Y/N. You’re home. Your parents would like to see you immediately. Apologies, Mr Lee. I’m afraid you’ll be unable to stay for lunch today.” Your senior housekeeper, Ms Kim, has a stormy expression on her face, and your eyebrows furrow in concern. Furthermore, her switch from calling Donghyuck by his formal name fills you with a sense of unease. Why doesn’t she meet his eyes?

Donghyuck looks at you, eyes questioning, but you are just as clueless as he is. Evidently, your parents must want to speak to you about something important.

“Alright. I’ll see you another day, Y/N. Also, Ms Kim, just call me Donghyuck, please. As you always do.”

His tone is casual and light, but there’s an undertone of worry.

Even though Donghyuck knows there’s no reason you would be unsafe in your own home, the atmosphere feels strangely heavy suddenly, foreboding. Ms Kim remains silent as Donghyuck strolls back the way he just came in, and that only causes your panic to rise further.

“Your parents are waiting in the sitting room, Miss,” she states lowly, before quickly rushing off.

You’re equal parts curious and scared as you make your way up the marble stairs.

“Y/N, darling, you’re here. Take a seat.” Your mother’s term of endearment when she sees you come in allows your heart to lighten up a little. But even then, worry is evident in the set of her eyebrows. Your father, however, is an entirely different story. His expression is stormy and unfamiliar to you, and reminds you of the scolding you received as a child when you had crossed too many lines.

“Is there…something wrong? I was out with Donghyuck and we had a slight mishap. i didn’t mean to be late.” Your unease causes you to shift nervously, posture remaining stiff, despite how the plush couch invites you to sink into it. There’s a pause, and you look at your father. It’s evident he wants to say something.

“You shouldn’t meet the Lee boy from now on. He isn’t allowed to visit, either.” You know your father is referring to Donghyuck, and you look at him, visibly alarmed. Your parents have always welcomed Donghyuck to your house, and they are aware of the friendship between the both of you.

Your mother senses the shift in the atmosphere of the room, and quickly attempts to mediate.

“What your father is saying, Y/N, is that you should try to interact less with Donghyuck-I mean, Mr Lee, from now on. It would be easier for both families if the two of you maintained a distance.” Her words are stilted as she looks at you, gauging your expression as it shifts from confusion to disbelief.

The laugh that escapes you comes out nervous and forced, your eyes darting rapidly from your father, to your mother, and then back.

You force yourself breathe, to remain calm, even as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. However, your voice comes out slightly strained.

“Donghyuck’s my childhood friend. He comes over every week. I thought the both of you were alright with his presence. Why so suddenly-”

“Because we did not know that goddamned boy was Lee Haechan!” Your father’s voice is booming, the sudden increase in volume causing both you and your mother to flinch. It takes you a while to process Donghyuck’s formal name, the one he uses with strangers. Evidently, there is a lapse in communication, and your father’s outburst puzzling you further. Just then, the butler comes to the door. “There is a call for you, sir.” Your father leaves enraged, and the silence that falls over the room is heavy.

You look to your mother desperately for some sort of clarification, and she sighs wearily. Tears are budding at the corner of your eyes, and you hastily blink them away.

“Your father found out about Donghyuck’s identity at a business function a week ago. We were unaware that Donghyuck was the only son of the Lee family.”

“Does that mean something?” You had always been aware of Donghyuck’s family history, where his ancestors had ties to this place from over a century ago. He didn’t speak much of it, only telling you bits and pieces.

“As you know, Y/N, our family is relatively new. After all, it was your grandfather who earned his fortune here. Your father and the Lees have a relatively tumultuous relationship, to say the least.”

Your confusion begins to clear up barely, but you’re not sure if for the better or worse. Since you were young, you’ve heard the whispers follow your parents, and subsequently you, round. That families like yours, the nouveau-riche who earned their wealth barely half a century ago, are nothing compared to the aristocracy. That your presence and others diluted the nature of high society itself, instead bringing disgrace with their lack of pedigree.

You’ve always paid little mind to it, however. After all, there are plenty of families that would be considered nouveau-riche, most of them equally as wealthy and powerful as the ones that hail from the aristocracy. The whispers have gradually dwindled over the years, and you believed it to be a poorly-conceived notion by certain adults reluctant to let their social status be infringed by those considered beneath them.

And you know that Donghyuck pays little mind to it, if any. In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even aware of the distinction, considering the nature of your friendship.

“I know you and Donghyuck have known each other for a long time. However, we do not think Donghyuck’s parents would be happy about this if they found out. It would be easier for both of you if you maintained a distance. Both for you and Donghyuck, and for your families as well.”

Your mother’s words cause you to realise that you’ve never been formally introduced to Donghyuck’s parents, or even met them. While you have been over to his house, it was only when his parents were absent on their business trips, or when he threw parties with hundreds in attendance.

Donghyuck has barely mentioned them, and you fail to recall any piece of knowledge about his parents. You wonder if they are aware of you, Donghyuck’s best friend since childhood. The sudden imbalance has been made glaringly obvious by your father’s words, and you’re not entirely sure what to do with the new realization.

The thought that you might be non-existent to Donghyuck’s family, the people he’s closest to in the world, leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your mother seems to sense the turmoil unfolding in your mind, and looks at you gently. “Take some time to think about it, Y/N. Your father and I will be out for dinner tonight. The telephone will be free to use if you wish to make a call.”

You can tell she is apologetic about her words and that of your father’s, but you can’t bring yourself to reply just yet.

Later that evening, you’re nestled in the armchair of your father’s office, telephone across you. Donghyuck is likely done with dinner at this very moment, and perhaps resting in his room.

You must look rather ridiculous to the staff, having sat in here for an hour and yet nowhere near making a call. Still, hesitation tugs at your movements. What will you even ask Donghyuck?

As if to end your dilemma, the telephone rings loudly.

You hastily pick it up, and hear a faint static buzzing before a honeyed voice comes through.

“Hello. This is Lee Donghyuck. May I speak to Y/N for a brief moment, please?” His voice sounds excessively formal and stilted, so different from the tone you’re used to. It causes a smile to make its way onto your face, despite the situation.

“You’re speaking to her right now, Mr Lee,” you reply, and hear Donghyuck huff a laugh from across the receiver.

“Very funny, Y/N. I was half-terrified that your father would be the one to pick up. Care to tell me what happened today after I left?” Donghyuck is simply curious, but you are unsure how to broach the topic.

“Donghyuck?” He hums in acknowledgement.

“My father talked to me today. About the situation between both of our…families. Did you know about it?” Dead silence fills the room, and you can even hear Donghyuck’s breathing still.

“If you are asking whether I was aware that our families are bitter competitors and refuse to interact with each other, then…” Donghyuck’s voice trails off, and you bite your lip out of worry.

“Then?”

“Then yes.” Donghyuck’s voice comes off almost sheepish, and you feel pressure building up at the front of your head.

“Do your parents know who I am?” You finally ask the question that’s waiting on the tip of your tongue. After all, your parents have known Donghyuck since he was a child. Surely his mother and father are aware of you, his best friend of over a decade. Even if friendships between the opposite sex aren’t exactly considered orthodox in proper society.

“They know…I have a close female friend,” he mutters, and it comes out in bits and pieces, that you almost strain to catch it.

“A close female friend.” The four words leave an unpleasant taste in your mouth as you sound them out, even though you know Donghyuck doesn’t mean them to be demeaning. However, it feels humiliating in a way, especially since you’re aware of how the exact same term is used to describe Donghyuck’s fleeting, romantic entanglements.

There’s a beat of silence over the phone, until Donghyuck exhales sharply. You’re gripped by a flash of anger, and then it disappears, leaving doubt and a grim look on your face. Your other hand lies in your lap, and you don’t even realise you’re wrenching your skirt so hard that it crumples.

“Y/N, listen to me, you know how my parents are-”

“No, Donghyuck, I do not know how your parents are. If you may recall, you’ve barely told me anything about them. Or about your family at all, really.”

Your words come out clipped, and you quickly slam down the receiver, ending the telephone call. It’s not even out of anger, really- you think you might just be more fearful of Donghyuck’s reply.

All these years, you rarely prodded Donghyuck to share about his family, unless he offered the information up himself. You knew he had a younger sister and several cousins. After all, it was obvious that the boy did not enjoy sharing much about them, and you guessed that he likely had an estranged relationship with them. For you, it was enough to know that he was from a family similar to yours, inhabiting the upper echelons of society.

Donghyuck was your best friend who grew up with you, spent summers at your house, and the person who your parents treated like a son. That was the only person he needed to be. Even when your father lost his temper, the rage was not directed at Donghyuck, but rather how he was convinced that Donghyuck’s parents would never have allowed such a friendship to blossom.

You wonder what lies Donghyuck must have told them, then, to be able to spend so much time with you unhindered. Unease plagued you at the idea that Donghyuck intentionally omitted his identity from your parents as well, even if it was not malicious in nature.

It made you feel as if your friendship with Donghyuck was something to be embarrassed by, an illicit secret that brought shame onto both of your families.

Maybe he perceived it that way too.

july, 1909

“I’m busy today, Renjun.”

“With checking another one of your father’s ledgers? We both know you don’t enjoy it anyways,” Renjun mutters under his breath, and you glare at him. To give the boy credit, you were eager enough for an excuse to escape the workload that came with being the oldest child and heir.

“Fine. Dinner at the Waldorf Astoria, is it?”

“Yes. At seven. Don’t be late.” He hangs up before you can even reply, and you stare at the now silent receiver. The way that Renjun speaks is the same way he conducts his relationships and friendships: the barest of what is necessary. Still, his curtness is refreshing compared to so many of the people you’ve met, who seem to have no end to their honeyed words.

You think of a boy with never-ending flowery words and witticisms, and determinedly push that thought away immediately.

Three hours later, you stride into the grand lobby of the Waldorf Astoria, heels clacking softly against the marble flooring. The restaurant is one of your favourites, and a smile of recognition appears on the hostess’s face as soon as she sees you.

“Miss Y/N. Good evening. This way, please.” You follow her into one of the private rooms, wondering why Renjun didn’t come out to get you himself. Despite his cold exterior, Renjun prefers to save the waitstaff their trouble, even if it is part of their job.

A sense of foreboding enters you when you push open the door, and you understand why the moment you see who’s sitting at the table.

Lee Donghyuck, hair combed back immaculately and suit clinging to frame, stands up and rushes to block you from leaving when you turn towards the exit.

“Let me through, Haechan,” you say through gritted teeth, looking at the wall past his head. The use of his formal name causes Donghyuck to flinch as if struck, and an apology almost escapes you.

“I haven’t seen you in two months, Y/N. Sit down and we can talk about this. Please,” Donghyuck’s voice is pleading, insistent, and it causes you to pause. Almost. You levelled your gaze at him calmly.

“And what did you tell your parents to meet me today? Did you say that you were meeting Renjun? I’m not sure what they would think if they knew you were meeting a close female friend in a private room at such an expensive restaurant.”

As much as you do not want to use Donghyuck’s parents against him, you’re not quite sure how to deal with him. Lee Haechan, Lee Donghyuck, your best friend. It keeps blending together, leaving you confused.

Donghyuck swallows and steps away, and you think that this is it. He’ll let you go, and the both of you will never return to whatever friendship you had before this. He’ll become a friendly acquaintance at most, considering the both of you will see each other much too often. Especially once he takes over his father’s estate and so do you.

“I told them I was meeting [L/N] [Y/N]. My best friend.”

Donghyuck’s words hang in the air, an invisible hand that stops you from pushing open the door.

“I told them we met in kindergarten and that I visited your estate every day. I told them I’ve known you for twelve years, and that we met every week. And that your parents know me. I told them everything.”

You look at Donghyuck, not daring to breathe.

“Wouldn’t they be angry?” You ask, eyes searching his. Donghyuck allows a small smile to appear on his face, before his eyes turn serious with sincerity once again.

‘Not any less angry than they would have been if I told them earlier. I’m sorry, Y/N. For not being honest from the beginning. I was scared.”

Donghyuck looks so young suddenly, eyes wide and anxious as he looks at you. Every bit a grown-up in the eyes of society, and yet so very young to you. He’s the boy you’ve always known, the seven-year-old who made a painting to apologise to you for ruining your dress. Your heart softens just a little looking at him, guilt creeping in. You’re unfamiliar with his parents, but anyone who can put a damper on the sun himself must be a force to be reckoned with.

The reason Donghyuck loved coming over so much must have been because of them, then. Because his home was hostile and unwelcoming, and he found solace in yours.

Your shoulders relax from their tense posture, and Donghyuck immediately notices it. His expression lightens a little as well, as he senses your rapidly-changing emotions. He steps closer to you, until the both of you are less than a hand’s breadth away from each other.

Up close, you can see the mix of doe-brown and raven-black in Donghyuck’s eyes, and the freckles that scatter haphazardly across his skin. His face is so very familiar to you, and seeing him again after two months of absolute silence hits you like a punch to the gut.

“Donghyuck, I didn’t-”

He grabs your hand, quickly cutting you off. Unease and guilt floods you, but you’ve never been as good at stringing words together as Donghyuck.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You don’t have to apologise for anything.” His voice is comforting, a soothing balm to the emotional turmoil in your heart. You nod quietly, not sure how to continue.

“Now, sit down, will you? I ordered all your favourites and I can’t possibly finish them by myself,” he jokes, and you follow Donghyuck as he pulls out the chair for you, hands exerting gentle pressure on your shoulders.

Later, you watch as Donghyuck eagerly digs into the red velvet cake, even before you get to do so. You had introduced it to him a few years ago, despite his insistence on ordering ice cream instead. Needless to say, you were quite sure you had convinced him to enjoy it, or perhaps he just gave in after your repeated pleading.

He hums contentedly, and your heart surges with fondness. You’re not sure how you had actually thought that Donghyuck could be reduced to a mere acquaintance, the years of friendship diminished. However, you couldn’t be more glad that he was now here, opposite you.

The city is still buzzing when you and Donghyuck leave the chandelier-lit hallways of the Waldorf Astoria, and Donghyuck tugs insistently on your arm.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” He cranes his neck out towards the road to look for a taxi, but you extend a hand to halt his movements. Donghyuck flashes a questioning glance, and you smile reassuringly.

“It’s still early. We can stay out a little longer.” Donghyuck nods, acquiescing to your request. After all, the one most likely to have a curfew is you, rather than him. Although your parents think you’re out with Renjun and trust him to an extent, they’d rather not have your whereabouts unknown until late.

“Jaemin told me about a place near here the other day. Let’s try to find it.”

You follow Donghyuck down numerous winding alleys until you think the both of you might be in an entirely different district. By the time he pauses, the both of you are slightly out of breath and standing in front of an elevator with faded wooden doors. The lift is likely older than the both of you, judging from the way its doors open jerkily.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure this is safe?” Regardless, you follow Donghyuck into the lift.

“You should trust me more. Do you think I would want your parents to dislike me even more by making them think I was responsible for your untimely death?” He says it casually, but you know your parents’ rejection must have hurt more than Donghyuck is willing to let on.

“I’m sure that if they found you and my dead body, they would rather believe I caused my own death than pin you as guilty.” It’s a weak attempt and not one you entirely believe, but you hope it comforts him nonetheless.

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to squeeze your hand gently. At some point along the way, he had gotten tired of having to look back to check if you were keeping up, and had instead chosen to grab your hand and drag you with him.

“I wonder how Jaemin found this godforsaken place,” Donghyuck muses.

“It’s probably for his photography. You know how he’s always running around the city looking for new places.”

Just then, the elevator lurches slightly before halting, and you stumble in a moment of shock.

Your impending fall is halted by a pair of arms that are most definitely not yours, and you turn to find yourself less than a hair’s breadth away from Donghyuck, whose eyebrows are furrowed in concern.

“Are you alright? You should be careful with those shoes.” Donghyuck’s referring to your heels, the ones that you wear for sit-down dinners and definitely do not use for exploring abandoned buildings with your best friend.

However, you find yourself unable to focus on Donghyuck’s words, and instead, the warmth that emanates from the hand he’s placed on your waist. He’s much too close to you for comfort, and your mind is beginning to blank.

“Y/N?” His words snap you out of your brief daydream, and you quickly step away from him, blood rushing to your cheeks. Warmth floods you, your heart beating unstably, and you’re quite sure it’s not just from all the walking.

You welcome the chance to leave the tiny, cramped lift and put some space between you and Donghyuck, despite having absolutely no idea where the both of you are. A slight breeze provides respite to your flushed cheeks, and Donghyuck follows after you. The both of you are on a completely empty rooftop, and you immediately head towards the edge.

“You can see the entire city from here,” you say as you lean over the parapet. The lift brought you much higher than expected, allowing you to be flooded with the sight of New York’s stunning skyline. It’s a pretty view, and you’re filled with a sense of quiet peace as Donghyuck stands by your side.

It’s beautiful,” you exhale, and at Donghyuck’s lack of response, turn over to him. Your eyes immediately meet, and there is an unfamiliar fondness in Donghyuck’s starry-eyed gaze.

“Yeah, it is.” Donghyuck says lowly, eyes never leaving yours. The air feels charged with a strange energy, crackling with tension. If you utter a word, it might just be broken. First the lift, and now this. Your heart has been hammering against your ribcage endlessly, and it seems absurd that it might be because of Donghyuck. He’s the person you trust with anything, the one who you’d willingly get lost with. Yet, his gaze now makes you feel like a cornered animal, and you find yourself unable to formulate a coherent response.

“Donghyuck, I…” Your voice trails off and he smiles slightly, instead moving closer until your shoulders touch. The both of you stand side by side, eyes fixed on the radiant lights that make up the city.

However, your wristwatch quickly serves to dispel the peace of the moment, as you quickly dart a glance at the time.

“Donghyuck, we’ve got to leave. I told them I’d be out with Renjun until a quarter past ten.” You hook your arm around his and quickly pull him back in the direction of the lift.

Once the both of you are back below, however, Donghyuck’s quick to hail you a cab.

“Aren’t you getting in?” You ask, confused, staring at Donghyuck who remains standing outside. He smiles down at you gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before you can even register that it has slipped out of your bun.

“I don’t want your staff to see us and get into trouble. I’ll make my own way back.” There’s a slight disappointment in Donghyuck’s voice, and you’re not sure if you should tell him that you simply do not care if Ms Kim sees Donghyuck sending you back and reports it to your parents.

“Drive safely, please,” Donghyuck directs to the driver, handing him the fare with a look that tells you not to protest. The driver nods, and you turn back to look at Donghyuck, still standing on the pavement. His familiar figure brings a smile to your face despite your tiredness as he lifts up a hand to wave.

The ride back is spent in solitary quiet, for Donghyuck is not here to fill up the chatter in the space.

That night, you sleep more soundly than you have in weeks.

the present: september, 1912

“We’re done for the morning.” Your tutor, Mr Park, is a kindly, middle-aged man, and you've grown especially thankful for his presence since you’ve been confined at home.

You gather up your things, bowing to him as you get up from one of the many plush armchairs in your father’s library. You’ve decided to make it your mission to finish all the books that fill these shelves, and so far your progress is halfway there. No matter that you spend hours reading every day.

“Y/N. Take the afternoon off.” Mr Park’s voice cuts through the stillness of the library, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

“Even my best students preparing for Harvard don’t study as much as you do. Take a break and spend the afternoon in the city. No young lady should languish at home.”

The twinkle in his eye tells you that Mr Park will hide you sneaking out from your parents, and you immediately get up.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t consider your students languishing at home if they were male,” you retort, a bemused smile on your face.

“That’s because they are much less sensible than you are. Home confinement would do most men a world of good.” His remark causes a grin to appear on your face, and he waves you off. You do not argue further. After all, there are only five or so hours before your parents return, and you plan to make the most of it.

The entryway is noticeably quiet as you make your way down the marble stairs, purse in hand and shoes changed to favour a pair more comfortable for walking.

Besides the close housekeeping staff, no one else knows of your father’s anger at you. Well, besides one other person, of course.

“Y/N!” Your younger sister, Miyeon, appears in the hallway right as you are about to leave. Her eyes are alight with curiosity, storybook in hand. Panicked, you run over to hush her.

“Lower your voice, Miyeon-ah. I need you to help me keep a secret. Can you tell Ms Kim I’m very sick and would like no one to disturb me in my room?”

“Unnie, are you sneaking out?” She whispers conspiratorially, and you flash a grin at her.

“Yes. To see Donghyuck. But you can’t tell anyone, because Donghyuck and I are…planning a surprise for everyone. Okay?”

She nods eagerly, but her lips quickly soften into a pout. “I miss Donghyuck. Will he come to visit soon?”

A sharp pang of guilt enters your heart as you peer down at her forlorn expression. Donghyuck’s always treated your eight-year-old sister especially well, keeping her entertained when you’re too overwhelmed by her hyperactivity. He’s as much an older brother to her as you are her sister.

“He’s been very…busy. I’ll ask him to visit as soon as possible, okay?” She hums in agreement at that, and you smooth your hand over her hair gently. Miyeon does not need to know of the enmity between both of your families, and your now-fraught relationship with your father. You want her to have as good a childhood as possible, and there’s no reason she should be involved in it.

It is only when you are standing at the driveway that you realise you’ve made an oversight. Although your father didn’t explicitly restrict you from leaving, he told the driver that you were not to be driven anywhere at any cost, effectively preventing you from making the thirty-minute trip down to the city centre.

Walking will cost you at least two hours of your precious time, but you suppose you have no choice. The weather is welcoming, at least, and you decide that you’ll try to make the most of it and enjoy the scenery. After all, the fresh air feels much better than the stifling air of your room.

Twenty minutes in, you’ve finally made it out of the gated community where your family’s estate is located in. The road here is gravelly, and you stop yourself from tripping a few times.

A car comes up behind you, and you pause as it comes to a stop right in front of you. Your heart fills with apprehension. You’ve heard about people getting robbed or kidnapped on the roads, but it’s bright daylight and this path is relatively safe. In fact, you’ve walked it hundreds of times.

When a man steps out, you’re entirely prepared to run, until you recognize the familiar silhouette.

“Renjun?” You immediately walk over, and he waves in greeting. Renjun rarely leaves his estate, especially in the middle of the day.

“I needed to head into the city to collect some art supplies. Saw you and figured you needed a ride.” You smile gratefully at him and immediately get in. Renjun’s car is pristine, and the leather seats are plush against your back.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks. Haechan told me you were stuck at home.” You nod, allowing a sigh to escape.

“My father got angry. You know how he is. I decided to sneak out today.”

“Which is why you’re walking three miles?” You roll your eyes at the sarcasm in Renjun’s tone.

“Yes, but now that I have you, our dear Renjun, to send me, my journey will be cut short,” you simper sweetly.

“Did I forget to tell you that I charge a fee? I’ve found a new calling as a taxi driver.”

“We both know you’d rather die than allow strangers to get into your precious car.”

Despite your constant bickering, you missed Renjun more than you’d care to admit. Especially since he would tease you about it to no end.

“Well then, where to?”

“Anywhere. I’m just glad to be out. I can go with you to get your art supplies,” you reply, and Renjun arches an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to see Haechan?”

You shrug. “He doesn’t know I’m out today and I have no way to find him. Besides, I just saw him last week.”

“Last week?” Renjun asks, confused, and your breath hitches. You didn’t mean for it to slip out.

“Well…Donghyuck may have….done some wall-climbing.” Renjun lets out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. He drums his fingers on the wheel, humming silently.

“The both of you are ridiculous. Haechan mainly, but you too.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you turn to Renjun. “What?”

He doesn't reply, instead smiling one of his stupid smiles that say I know better than you do. There’s no way to get Renjun to divulge his thoughts unless he wishes, and so you leave him to it. You don’t think it’s that ridiculous. If Donghyuck was the one stuck at home, you would probably risk breaking your neck for him too. And it was likely the bigger sacrifice, considering how his room was a floor higher than yours.

The rest of the drive is passed in comfortable silence, Renjun quietly humming to a jazz song you don’t know the title of. The familiar brick-and-mortar buildings enter your vision, and the car drives past men in bowler hats and women in bonnets. Compared to the quiet isolation that exists within the suburbs, the city buzzes with a frenetic energy that screams liveliness, and it hits you like a tidal wave after all the solitary afternoons spent in your family’s garden.

The art supply store is much larger than you expected, with a ceiling that extends all the way up, leading to a skylight. Renjun is evidently familiar with the place from the way he weaves from shelf to shelf, and you follow quietly, observing him at work. Renjun is secretive about his art, even to his close friends, and you only get to see his works displayed when they are displayed at galleries or sold at auctions.

He’s quick to arrange for the materials to be delivered by the end of today, and the both of you head to the exit.

“Well, this is where I have to leave you now. Have fun, but stay safe.” The way Renjun talks to you makes you feel like a little child, but that’s just how he is.

“We haven’t seen each other in so long. Are you not free for a meal?” There’s disappointment evident in your voice. As much as you do not mind spending time by yourself in the city, you would much rather have Renjun by your side.

“I wish I was, but there’s a meeting with a sponsor I can’t miss. I can send you home again, though. Can you meet me here in two hours?” You nod in assent, watching as Renjun strides down until he eventually disappears around a corner.

It’s just you now, and the bustling streets of New York City. This is the most lively area of the city, with art galleries and restaurants littering every street. You’re drawn to one, in particular, its elegant marble arches and stained glass fixtures taking your breath away. When you step in, you’re immediately surrounded by commotion. It’s unusually crowded for a gallery, and from the attire of everyone around you, it’s likely no typical event. You grab a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray as you weave through the crowds, attempting to find a less crowded area.

You eventually pause in front of a winged sculpture that takes up most of the space in its display case.

“Enjoying the exhibition?”

“Well, I suppose you could say so.” You don’t turn around to view the source of the voice, too enraptured in reading the description that accompanies the figure.

“And you’re not going to say you came here to find me?” The voice is cocky, but slightly petulant, and all too reminiscent of someone you know. You turn around sharply, eyebrows furrowing.

“Donghyuck? I didn’t know you were here-”

“Yeah, I figured, considering how you made a straight beeline for the gallery instead of me. Why didn’t you tell me your parents let you leave the house?” There’s a note of hurt in his voice, and you grin slightly. It’s almost adorable, but also comforting, having the knowledge that Donghyuck values your presence as much as you do his.

You make your way over to him, ruffling his hair slightly. He bends down reflexively for you to do so, and it makes you feel like you’re a young child again. It’s something only Donghyuck can do, you think. He represents every part of your childhood, and makes you feel as if you’re young again, without a care in the world.

“I snuck out,” you whisper proudly, and Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, slightly impressed. As far as he knows, he’s the rule-breaker out of both of you.

“Anyways, what are you doing here? You’ve never been one much for art.”

“My family’s the one organizing this exhibition and the auction later. As their only son, I have to be here,” Donghyuck replies, and you nod in understanding. Despite his frivolous nature, he still fulfils his duties to the utmost extent, and you suppose that’s why you’ve never chided Donghyuck for his occasionally irresponsible actions. If anything, you’re more worried about his liver and his general health from all the red wine and sleepless nights he has.

“Then…are your parents here?” You ask nervously, fiddling with your hands. You’ve never met Donghyuck’s parents, and you’re not sure if you want to. You’ve seen them in the newspapers, of course, and in passing at important events, but never long enough to draw any notice. Though they’re definitely aware of your presence, it seems they’ve decided to ignore it as a minor inconvenience. Similar to how your parents treat Donghyuck now, you think.

Donghyuck shakes his head happily, however. “They’re out temporarily to settle some stuff for the auction, so it’s just me helming the event. It’s about time for lunch, though.” As if coordinated, your stomach rumbles, and Donghyuck lets out a laugh at it.

“My treat for lunch. To celebrate my best friend’s temporary freedom,” he teases, and you smile up at him.

Before the both of you can exit, however, a man strides in. His eyebrows are thin and pinched, much like the rest of his features. There is a certain unwelcoming air to him, and you notice Donghyuck turning imperceptibly stiff.

“Ah. Haechan. I was wondering where the golden boy of the Lee family was.” His voice is haughty, belying sarcasm, and you immediately decide that you don’t particularly like this man. There’s something about him that spells malice, as if he’s deliberately out to get you.

“Mr Park. A pleasure to see that you’re doing well,” Donghyuck returns with a sickly sweet smile, one that you know is entirely false. It’s the smile reserved for the people he likes the least, and you’re rendered even more curious about who this Mr Park is.

“And who’s this lady friend of yours?’ Mr Park says, turning to you. The way his gaze looks you up and down makes you shudder slightly, and Donghyuck immediately steps forward. However, you’re determined to not back down.

“The name’s Y/N L/N,” you bite out, eyes narrowed at him.

“Y/N L/N? I believe I know your father. Still, what are you doing running around with a boy like Haechan?” There is an almost predatory glint in his eye as he takes in the both of you, and you’re sure he’s aware of the not-so-well-concealed feud between both you and Donghyuck’s families.

“If you excuse us. Y/N and I are rather busy. Especially if you consider the prominence of our families,” Donghyuck’s low tone is condescending, betraying a hint of danger, and it's something you’re unused to.

You realise that this is Lee Haechan, heir to a major business conglomerate and the reigning king of New York high society. The front he shows to everyone else, that gives him a sense of notoriety. His palm is warm against the small of the back as he guides you out of the room, but the both of you are not fast enough to escape Mr Park’s last comment.

“Busy, huh? I wonder what your parents will say when they find out their son is playing in his own version of Romeo and Juliet as the male lead.”

It takes you a while to figure out the meaning behind Mr Park’s words, but they settle into you with a feeling of unease. Not the idea that Mr Park thinks you and Donghyuck are romantically involved- that’s the least of your concerns. But is that what your friendship with Donghyuck is destined for? Tragedy?

Donghyuck seems to sense your emotional turmoil and smooths his hands over yours. “Don’t think about what that guy said. He just spews whatever nonsense comes to mind. My parents don’t like him either.” The smile that you give Donghyuck is shaky, but he’ll take it.

“If anything, I would be Juliet. I’m not daft enough to drink poison just because I thought you died,” he states, and you roll your eyes. However, your heart feels a bit lighter, and you’re able to pass the walk to lunch in comfortable silence.

Later that afternoon, Donghyuck watches silently as you get back in the car with Renjun and drive off. He would offer, but he’s not sure if his showing up would only further undermine your parents’ impression of him. Sometimes, he feels almost like some sort of parasite, clinging to you until even your relationship with your father has become increasingly tense. Still, he can’t seem to detach from you for too long. You’ve been such a big part of his world for as long as he can remember. He’s not sure what he would do to fill the space if you disappeared.

He may have also lied to you about Mr Park, but hopefully, you’ll never know that. Donghyuck feels oddly protective over you, even though he knows you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself. It’s probably just because you’re one of the few genuinely close friends he has, and he can’t afford to lose any.

When Donghyuck finally returns to the gallery, the people present are much more sparse, everyone already heading out for dinner.

“Lee Haechan. Where were you?” His father’s voice is low and cuts across the shadows of the room, and Donghyuck almost trips on his own feet out of surprise. Of course. Mr Park, that desperate ladder-climber. He would do anything to curry favour with Donghyuck’s father.

“I see you still refuse to address me by my birth name. If you have to know, I was with Y/N.”

”That wench again? Mr Park informed me of what he saw today. Stop fooling around and get your head back on straight.”

Donghyuck feels his jaw clenching, fingers curled into a fist. You’re no wench, as much as his father likes to call you one. But his father thinks anyone is below him, even his own son and wife.

“She’s my friend.” Donghyuck finds his voice wavering, and he hates it. Twenty-one, and yet he still feels fear at the sight of his father. It’s a painful relationship they have, really. His father cannot abandon him because Donghyuck is his heir and more than capable enough, even if he despises him. Besides, no respectable member of the gentry should have to endure the shameful scandal of a runaway son. And Donghyuck refuses to abandon his mother and the life he has now outside of his father.

But every time he finds himself close to the limit, it’s always about you.

“She’s a competitor, you idiot. I may not like the girl, but I have an ounce of respect for her being smart enough to have my only son wrapped around her finger as such. If you tire of the women you have, I’ll send more.”

“How dare you-”

“I dare, Haechan, because I’m your father and the only reason why your sorry little life and that of your mother’s still exist. And my power extends outside as well. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret. It would be a pity if the family lost their oldest daughter, don’t you think?”

The air seems to hush, a deathly silence overtaking the hall. Donghyuck can feel his heartbeat slowing, his anger cooling to a numbing fear as he takes in the implications of his father’s words. He knows his family does have unsavoury ties to the less respectable areas of society, but he’s always chosen to ignore it. Donghyuck’s not sure how far his father is willing to go to do what he deems necessary, but the idea of finding out causes his mouth to turn dry.

To lose you….that only spells two consequences, none of them good. And he’s not sure if your family is enough to protect you, wealthy as they are. He knows your parents. They are kind, even if they’ve distanced themselves from him. Compared to his father, yours is nowhere as cold-blooded. But he would be devastated at the thought of anything happening to you. It’s two birds with one stone, he realises. To topple his business opponent, and reign in his son.

In that moment, standing in that gallery with the man who raised him, Donghyuck feels so very helpless. He’s angry at so many things. His father, the situation the both of you are in, and himself. For not being good enough to protect you, for being the reason why you fell out with your father, for putting you in danger each and every single time he seeks you out.

It’s a terrible time to have this realisation, but Donghyuck loves you. He realises it when he’s pacing in his room later that evening, his father’s threats looming over his head and causing anxiety to rake its claws in him.

Of course, he loves you as his best friend, the one who’s been by his side since he was young and provided a respite away from the cold home that he had grown up in. Still, it seems that there’s always something more, something missing. Donghyuck doesn’t have anything to rely on, considering his parents had a loveless marriage.

However, looking at your family, and looking at you, he thinks he might understand love a little more.

Of course, he would fall hopelessly for someone who had grown up with so much care and affection to give.

The moments where he sees couples on the streets, and wonder if the both of you look like them even if you’re not hand-in-hand.

That night on the balcony, when he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life. And the time on the rooftop, when he wished to just lean into you, and close the distance.

Donghyuck realises that he’s loved you for most of his life, even before he knew what love was. His name may mean the sun, but he finds himself orbiting around you instead.

The use of Romeo and Juliet feels ironically bitter now, and Donghyuck scoffs at the impossibility of the situation. His love isn’t enough to untangle this web of threads that the both of you are stuck in, unless he cuts through them entirely. You’ll get hurt, but at least you’ll be free. It’ll be as painful as cutting his own heart out, but Donghyuck would gladly place your safety above his.

Fifteen years is a long, long time to love someone. Yet, Donghyuck now feels as if all the time in the world would not be enough to love you.

november, 1912

He’s not coming today, Y/N.

When it hits almost two in the morning, that’s when you give up. It’s been two months since you’ve last seen Donghyuck, and since he stopped coming to your window in the middle of the night. You shouldn’t be disappointed- It must be tiring for him, and you’ve gone longer than that without seeing Donghyuck. Still, you can’t help the sense of dread that pervades you every single time you stand at your balcony, and his familiar face isn’t in sight.

You’ve been able to call Renjun and your other friends, but they’re disappointingly sparse with updates about Donghyuck, besides the usual of him at parties. It’s like he’s still normal to everyone, except you. You’ve tried calling Donghyuck’s estate, but you’ve always given up in fear of his parents being the ones to pick up. You had once left a note for his housekeeper, but it seems that it didn’t exactly get through.

You stare up at the ceiling from where you are in your bed, head swirling with thoughts. Maybe he’s busy with his work. After all, that’s likely the most plausible reason. Despite that, unease settles in you, and your sleep is fitful.

The midday sun greets you once you wake up, and you’re surprised at how late you’ve woken up. Lunch is already halfway through when you’re down, your father at the head of the table.

“Good morning,” you say slightly drowsily as you settle down and pour yourself a heaping cup of coffee, and your parents both smile slightly at you, your father moving the bread basket over. Throughout the past few months, you suppose his initial anger and worry about Donghyuck has mellowed somewhat.

“Y/N. Tell the driver to bring you where you want from now on,” your father mutters, and you almost drop the sugar cube out of shock.

“What?” You look up at him incredulously, unwilling to believe that perhaps, you might be allowed to leave.

Your mother smiles kindly at you, though her eyes are sympathetic. “Your father was just scared of the rumours surrounding you and Donghyuck. But they’re gone now, and we haven’t seen the boy in a while. Besides, you’re an adult now. As your parents, we can’t stop you from doing what you want.”

You can’t stop the grin that makes its way onto your face, and you immediately engulf the both of them in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll be sensible, I promise.” Breakfast forgotten, you immediately run up to your room to get ready, unaware of the words your parents exchange with each other.

“I know Donghyuck is a good and kind boy. But he’ll bring trouble everywhere he goes, with that father of his.”

“He makes her happy. Let them figure it out.”

Despite your parents’ discouragement, your first course of action is to find Donghyuck. By the time you leave, it’s in the late afternoon, which means the weekly parties will start at any time. If you’ve estimated the weeks correctly, it’s Renjun’s turn this time.

The drive down to Renjun’s house is far, but scenic. He had deliberately chosen the very outskirts. of the suburbs, and bought the land surrounding the property as well, so as to ensure only greenery would be seen. You think his estate is the prettiest, though yours comes to a close second.

When you reach, people are already beginning to mill about, and you’re grateful you dressed appropriately. It takes you long enough to make your way past the gardens, to the main foyer, and then down a few side hallways to reach the room that Renjun saves for his close friends.

“Hello, everyone. Missed me?” Your voice is playful as you walk in, and Renjun immediately sits up, a smile lighting up his features.

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it. Congratulations on your freedom.” He passes you a glass of Sauvignon, so dark it almost looks like blood. Jeno lifts his glass to you in a silent toast, grinning. Your eyes scan the room, but you frown. “This is Donghyuck’s favourite wine. Why isn’t he here finishing it all?” Your tone is light, but you’re genuinely wondering where the man has run off to, considering he’s rarely separated from Renjun.

However, Renjun’s expression looks almost sheepish, and it makes you even more confused. He places his hands on your shoulders gently, steering you in the direction of the couch. “Donghyuck’s a little preoccupied. He’ll be back soon.”

Renjun seems insistent, and so you leave him be. However, one hour and six poker games later, you’re starting to get genuinely concerned.

“Renjun, can you bring me to Donghyuck?” You ask, and Renjun looks like he’s been put in a difficult spot.

“Renjun. Where is he?” Your tone is serious now, and the man in front of you lets out a sigh, looking resigned. He gets up, waving a hand for you to follow him. “Down that hallway. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You’re equal parts fearful and baffled. It’s Donghyuck. What would you have to fear? You turn the corner, and hear coquettish giggles coming out of a room. You roll your eyes. Renjun was just being dramatic, after all. This is nothing that you’re not used to, even if you find it slightly distasteful.

When you knock on the open door, signalling your presence, the two women sitting next to Donghyuck immediately look up, before their eyes widen in realisation. Donghyuck straightens and leans forward, his eyes slightly hazed over by alcohol but still aware of your presence. You stare at him from where you are standing, eyebrow raised.

“Who are you?”

That is the one question you’re not expecting, and your posture immediately straightens. “What? Donghyuck, you must be really drunk. It’s me, Y/N.” Your voice is still light, unaware of the situation, and Donghyuck swallows, looking at you directly before he speaks.

“Ah. What’s the heir of the L/N family doing in this room? Unless…you would like to join?” Donghyuck’s mouth is curled in a smirk, and it causes a sour feeling to appear in your mouth. What sort of game is he playing here? Donghyuck’s never made you feel small, or put you in a spot.

And yet, now, the situation is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. The two women are staring, doubtful of what to do. You feel slightly humiliated, and you’re not sure how to bridge the gap between you and him.

“Could you leave us, please?” You tilt your head meaningfully at the two other women in the room, who thankfully, leave without much hesitation. Donghyuck seems sad to see them go, a petulant pout on his face.

“If you just wanted me to yourself, you could have said so,” he says snarkily, and you roll your eyes. “Donghyuck, this is ridiculous. Why did you do that?”

“Why not? It was funny. Also, my name’s Haechan. Not Donghyuck.”

“What? Donghyuck, we’ve known each other for so long. Whatever prank you’re playing, cut it out.” You’re completely bewildered now, eyes piercing into Donghyuck from across the room, while he remains relaxed, legs spread out comfortably on the chaise. He swallows, and it seems like it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate in the past ten minutes or so.

“It’s not a prank. I’m tired.” You’re frozen at the door, and haven’t moved from it since you stepped in.

“If you’re tired, you should rest-”

“Not physically. I’m tired of you. Our friendship. Whatever. It’s annoying. I was having fun and then you ruined it.” His words don’t make sense to you at first, considering the implausibility of his statement. You laugh in incredulity at first. This must be some poorly-conceived prank he came up with. After all, he has gone too far by accident before, but you’ve always been quick to let him know. However, it’s hard to contain your own infuriation, especially at his careless words.

“Are you…are you serious?” He shrugs. “Yeah. I’m sick of it.”

This prank is exceedingly cruel, even for him.

That’s when the cold tendrils of fear begin to surround you. The fact that he might mean what he’s saying, that this isn’t some stupid joke his poor, half-addled brain conjured up. His expression is painfully earnest, and your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“Donghyuck, if I did something-”

“You didn’t do anything. I just don’t want to be associated with you anymore. It’s difficult, you know? And exhausting. We weren’t meant to be friends anyways.”

Your heart is breaking, but you’re sure only you can hear it, judging by the nonchalant expression on Donghyuck’s face. “Alright. I understand.” Your hands are trembling as you quickly turn on your heel. However, before you move past the threshold, you find that there’s still something you want to say.

“You know, it was difficult for me too. But I thought it was worth it. With you. I’m sorry you found it exhausting.”

You run out of the room before your tears can escape, leaving Donghyuck behind.

Unluckily enough, you collide right into Renjun. “See, Y/N, I told you not to go because I didn’t want you to get upset- are you crying?” His voice holds a note of surprise.

“Hey, listen to me. Donghyuck really does love you. He just has a terrible fucking way of expressing it. I’ll talk to him,” Renjun says, and you pull away from him. “What?”

“Don’t you have romantic feelings for him? I just didn’t want you to get hurt-”

You shake your head vehemently. “Renjun, where did you get this from?”

“I thought it was obvious to everyone. But that isn’t why you’re crying?” He’s just as muddled as you are now, and you’re still unable to wrap your head around everything that’s happened and what Renjun is saying.

“He told me he got bored and tired of the friendship. And essentially doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. That’s why I was crying. Still am, actually.”

You watch as Renjun’s face gradually transforms from confusion to anger, and you would feel scared if you were on the receiving end. However, you feel strangely comforted. “That guy must be drunk out of his mind. Don’t take anything seriously, okay? I’ll talk to him. That idiot-”

You extend a hand to grab Renjun’s arm to stop him from making his way to Donghyuck, smiling a watery smile at him. “Renjun, it’s okay. Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? I kind of understand, even if he could have been a little nicer about it. I’ll just go back home now. Don’t worry about me.”

From the way your smile wavers, Renjun knows nothing is alright, but he can only watch hopelessly as you go, unsure how to mend the situation. When Donghyuck barely mentioned you and refused to partake in any conversation involving the mention of your name, Renjun had thought it strange, but ignored it.

Now, he understood. Something was very, very wrong.

There was only one person he could seek clarification from. And so, despite your protests, he stormed towards the sitting room that Donghyuck was in.

When he sees the boy in question, he scoffs angrily and storms over. “Stop drinking already,” he mutters, wrenching the wine bottle out of Donghyuck’s hand. Occasionally, the sight of Donghyuck tipsy is amusing, but now he just seems pathetic to Renjun.

“Cut it out, Renjun. Are you here to ruin my fun too?”

Donghyuck’s being mean on purpose, but Renjun’s already much more prepared to handle the situation. He’s always been more emotionally mature than most and wonders how heavy a blow this must have been for you.

“Don’t tell me to cut it out when you’re the one who messed up. Y/N just ran out of here crying, and I want to know what the hell is wrong with you,” Renjun says determinedly, and Donghyuck looks up at him, cloudy eyes temporarily replaced with regretful sobriety.

“She cried?”

“You’re sorry now? I’m not surprised, after what you said to her.” Renjun knows he’s being harsh, for Donghyuck must be hiding something, but he can’t help it. You’re his friend too, even if he’s close to Donghyuck.

Still, he wants to help to mend whatever it is. Because he knows that you’re one of the people that Donghyuck loves most in the world, even if the boy resolutely refuses to admit it.

Donghyuck sinks back into the couch, eyes closed. Renjun’s heart softens a little at the sight. This is the most defeated he’s seen Donghyuck in the decade that he’s known him. It’s a tendency of Donghyuck’s, to keep his problems to himself. Renjun understands because he’s done it before too.

The fear of being a burden is a heavy one to carry. He supposes for Donghyuck, it’s even worse because he doesn’t have anyone at home to rely on. And everyone expects the sun to keep on shining, day in and day out.

“Come on, Donghyuck. Out with it.”

“God, Renjun, you know I don’t mean any of what I said. It’s more likely that Y/N would get tired of me, honestly.” Donghyuck lets out a laugh at his own words, but it comes out bitter and forced.

“It’s my father. He made certain…threats. I cut Y/N off to keep her safe.” Renjun immediately understands the meaning behind Donghyuck’s words, but even then, he furrows his eyebrows.

“God, you’re an idiot, Lee Donghyuck.” His eyes open slightly then, and he looks at Renjun.

“What? No, Renjun, you don’t understand. My father can and will make good on his threats-”

“I know exactly what kind of person Mr Lee is. I don’t think pushing Y/N away will do anything at all. If your father wanted to make a move, he would have a long time ago. Besides, if he did anything now, the culprit is obvious. You don’t actually think Y/N is helpless, do you?” Renjun realises that the idea of you getting hurt has sent Donghyuck into a panic, muddling his judgement.

“Of course she’s not helpless, but she’s no match for-”

“Think about it, Donghyuck. Y/N’s family is one of the richest and the most powerful in the entire of upstate New York. The both of you may think that you’ve been able to keep your friendship under wraps, but her family has her under heavy protection. You think your father has connections? So does hers. There are eyes everywhere in this city, on you, her, and you both. She has plenty of people to protect her. Your father would be asking for retribution if he tried anything.”

Donghyuck finally falls silent then, mulling over Renjun’s words. There’s a sense of relief as he realises you’re no longer in danger. After all, that was his only goal. Even though Donghyuck doesn’t reply, Renjun knows that his words have gotten through somewhat, from the way that the clouds in Donghyuck’s expression have cleared up.

However, another realization quickly sinks in, and Donghyuck’s eyes fall dim again.

“God, then the things I said-”

“You broke her heart, you idiot. Go and find her, before she decides she’s done with you for good,” Renjun says, and Donghyuck turns to him sharply, a confused look on his face.

It is then that Renjun realises how for as oblivious as you are, there is no one more ignorant than Lee Donghyuck himself.

“Y/N’s in love with you too, just in case you haven’t realised.”

Donghyuck looks completely disbelieving, and Renjun tries not to roll his eyes. The both of you are much too similar, he can’t help but think. “Just ask her yourself.” Donghyuck curses under his breath, before grabbing his jacket and running out of the room, and Renjun watches as he goes.

As much as Renjun is tired of seeing the both of you dance in circles around one another, he wonders if just maybe, this time, the both of you might get your happy ending.

Donghyuck’s mind is blank when he stands underneath your window, the cold air quickly making him clear-headed. He’s trembling, and it’s not from the cold air whipping around, but rather his nerves. He tries not to shiver as he goes through the familiar motions of throwing pebbles against your window.

Five minutes pass, and then ten. With each second, Donghyuck’s heart falls further and further down, and he’s not sure if you want anything to do with him at this moment. Still, he’ll stand here the entire night, if it means he can have a moment with you.

Just then, the door to your window cracks open, and Donghyuck’s breath hitches. You’re still wearing your dress from earlier, but your hair is mussed and your makeup is mostly gone.

Donghyuck thinks you look breathtaking.

It seems that once he confronted the full weight of his feelings for you, they’ve only intensified. He supposes that explains why there’s a strange pressure in his chest whenever he sees your face, and it’s like the breath is stolen from his lungs.

You remain silent, expression unmoving as you stare down at Donghyuck. He finally collects his thoughts, and looks up at you beseechingly.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” You seem to pause, expression stricken, before nodding. Donghyuck exhales loudly in relief, but he hopes you didn’t catch it.

You can’t help but keep your eyes fixed on him as he makes his way up the familiar bricks. As much as you remember his words from earlier, you can’t help but be concerned for his safety. You refuse to admit that his presence here has allowed the tiniest tendril of hope to snake into your heart.

Donghyuck immediately drifts in the direction of your fireplace, even as his eyes remain firmly lodged on you, and you realise he must have been freezing while waiting for you.

However, he seems considerably tense as he turns back to you, eyes searching and assessing. You make a deliberate effort not to show any outward emotion, but you know that your eyes are still red-rimmed from earlier, and there are still visible tear tracks.

“I thought you made your opinion quite clear. Are you here to go into even more detail?” The words come out firm, and Donghyuck tries not to flinch. You have every right to be angry, after all.

“No, it’s not that. I swear it’s not that. I’m here to apologise. And if you decide that you don’t want anything to do with me ever again, that’s okay. I’ll go back right out the way I came.” His eyes are pleading, hands wide open in supplication.

You don’t say anything, and Donghyuck takes it as a positive affirmation for him to keep going.

He has to do this.

“I got…scared,” he confesses, and you arch an eyebrow slightly, waiting for him to continue. But your heart is already shifting towards forgiveness, and you’re not sure if it’s foolish.

“I thought that by pushing you away, I could protect you from my father. I know that I’m wrong now, and I’m sorry. For what I said, which hurt you, untrue as it was. I didn’t think any of it through.”

There’s so much fear and anxiety in each sentence that escapes Donghyuck, and you wonder how much he must have thought about this. About how to protect you in the only way he could, even if it meant hurting you in the process.

Even then, you’re not prepared for what he says next.

“You’re one of the most precious people to me, and I’m not exactly the most clear-headed when it comes to the ones I love.”

There’s a pause, and it feels like the world has tilted on its axis.

“You love me?” You ask, eyes wavering as you search Donghyuck’s for even a hint of deceit.

Yet, you think you already know the answer. Away from the events of today, Donghyuck’s love for you is painfully obvious from everything he does.

He immediately strides over, hands cupping your face gently as he leans down until his face is level with yours.

“Of course I do, you beautiful, brilliant woman. How could I not? I would never tire of this,” he whispers, and your heart constricts delightfully.

You’re not sure if Donghyuck can hear the audible thudding of your pulse, but you feel as if the room is spinning, and he’s the only thing grounding you. You think about what Renjun said in the hallway. The line between platonic and romantic love was so very, very fine. And it muddied so often, so easily, for you and Donghyuck.

Right now, with him in front of you, you think that perhaps, the idea of crossing that line doesn’t sound so bad.

You swallow, head tilting up to look at him. Your best friend, Donghyuck. The person you loved the most, and the only one who could make you laugh and cry with just a few simple words.

‘When you asked if I wanted to join you, in that room. What if I said I wanted to be the only one?” You ask, your gaze aimed directly at Donghyuck’s.

When he takes in your words, his stare darkens briefly, before quickly softening. He steps impossibly closer, until you can feel the warmth of your body against his.

Your lips are so very close to his now. You think your breathing might have just stopped.

“Then you’ll be the only one. Always have been,” he mutters, before closing the distance between the both of you.

When Donghyuck kisses you, it feels as if a piece of your heart has finally settled.

His lips press against yours insistently but gently, and you find your hands making their way up to grip the lapels of his jacket. You’re bending backwards slightly, and might have lost your balance if it wasn’t for the steady grip of his hands, one on your waist and the other on your cheek.

Donghyuck kisses you languidly, as if he has all the time in the world to do so. You find yourself smiling into the kiss, but bite back a gasp when his tongue slips into your mouth briefly, almost teasing.

You pull back, flustered, hands lightly pushing at Donghyuck’s shoulders. Your cheeks are bright red now, but you can’t help but miss the phantom feeling of his lips on yours. Donghyuck smirks now, much more confident, and you refuse to meet his gaze.

Your wide eyes and messy hair, courtesy of Donghyuck, has something softening imperceptibly in his heart. He smooths a palm over your hair, and strokes a thumb over your cheek fondly. A small part of him still thinks he’s dreaming. Still, he knows that this wouldn’t be something he could conjure up by himself.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted and needed, and Donghyuck refuses to let you go if you’re willing to stay.

“I meant it when I said you were the only one. I was fearful that I would scare you away. I know I say stupid things sometimes, and I make bad decisions. But thank you. For not running away, and staying. Fifteen years ago, and now.” The sincerity in Donghyuck’s voice is startling, but comforting all the same.

“You’ve stayed for me too, Donghyuck. I don’t think you realise how much other people love you. you have so much love to give, but it’s okay to receive it sometimes,” you reply, looking at the boy in front of you, the one who carries too much doubt and worry and hides it behind a smooth veneer of cheer and mischief.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way Donghyuck squeezes your hand gratefully tells you that he’s heard you.

The soft sound of voices drifting from outside causes you to freeze, until you realise it’s just Miyeon being put to bed by the nanny. You let out a breath of relief, and Donghyuck smiles gently.

“It’s late. I should go.”

However, just as Donghyuck’s about to make his way back down, you find yourself filled with a sense of reluctance. You don’t want to let him go just yet.

“Hyuck. Stay the night,” you say, and he immediately halts, backtracking into the room. His gaze is doubtful, as he processes your words.

“Like here? With you?” You nod, and it’s almost amusing how it’s Donghyuck’s turn to turn slightly red.

“You act like you didn’t stay over so many times when we were kids. Even though my parents made you sleep on the floor, you’d always pester me to let you get into the bed instead.”

“It’s different now, Y/N.”

“Not that different. You’re still my best friend, Hyuck. We just also happen to be in a relationship,” you state as you tug the blanket over your waist and grab a pillow to pass to him, turning off the lights.

Donghyuck eventually makes his way to the other side, and you turn until the both of you are facing each other while lying down. His features are soft in the dim light of the room, and you run your finger over his profile, pausing briefly at the freckle on his cheekbone.

“Well, then I suppose being romantically involved entitles me to some liberties.” His voice is hushed, filling you with a sense of anticipation.

“Like?” Your voice is muffled, slightly sleepy as you lean into the pillow, but curious.

“Like this,” he whispers, before pulling you towards him by your waist and peppering your face with kisses. Your giggles ring out in the quiet of the room, but they’re quickly silenced by Donghyuck kissing you again. You eagerly reciprocate, lips moving against his in a perfect cadence, and you can’t seem to stop smiling.

It’s easy, being in love with Donghyuck. Almost as if you’ve done it your entire life.

That night, the both of you fall asleep with your limbs tangled together, barely visible in the dim twilight of the room. Your parents may be furious, but you find yourself unable to care, not when you can hear the sound of Donghyuck’s heartbeat from the way you lean against his chest.

After all, what you and Donghyuck have is better than gold, and you wouldn’t exchange a single thing in the world for it.

80 notes · View notes

definitelynotafurinasimp · 9 months

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Partner

How she falls in love with you & how you ask her out

characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I may or may not be down bad tremendously for Navia...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

Falling in love with you was spectacularly unspectacular. In retrospect, there wasn’t a single moment Navia could point to while confidently stating it was the one she realized she was in love, no heroic deed or grand speech that suddenly made her look at you in a completely different light. Instead, her feelings for you were more akin to a collection of small pieces that slowly but surely piling up until they had become too obvious for her to overlook.

Like how Navia could catch you silently doing tasks she despised without her having to mention it or how you instinctively moved your hand into a position from where you could easily catch her hat whenever a gust of wind caught both of you off-guard. All of which you did without ever mentioning it or expecting any kind of thanks, simply chalking it up to coincidence or downplaying it whenever she spoke up about it.

Looking back on the past week, it was difficult for Navia to describe it in any nicer way than “taxing”. Sure, it had neither catastrophe nor tragedy, and yet the constant gray skies, coupled with a sudden increase in the Spina’s workload took a toll on everyone in Poisson. As the week went on, it became more and more difficult to put on a smile, even for someone like Navia, so much so that the only thing she had to offer upon finally finishing her work was a deep sigh.

So she sat there, in her office, leaning back in her chair as much as she possibly could. Eyes closed as she hoped to maybe get the chance to dream a bit. And yet, as it finally seemed like she was about to nod off, a knock on her door startled her awake. Within a blink of an eye, her tired posture had given way as she sat down properly before calling whoever found themselves on the other side of the door inside her office.

“I’m sorry for butting in, I hope I’m not being a nuisance”, you apologized politely before offering Navia a small smile. “The past week has been rough, so if you want to be alone right now I can leave.”

“Please, there’s no reason to think that. I was hoping you’d show up, partner. So come, take a seat”, her words instantly began flying out of her mouth as the corner of her lips shifted upwards, only for her to freeze a bit once she went over what she had said, eyes slightly widening as her gaze fixated on your face, trying to make out your reaction, no matter how small it was.

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to do that. I still have a bit of work to do. I was just passing by and thought I might as well ask you something real quick”, you hastily explained, wearing an apologetic smile, only for it to vanish in the very next moment as you grew increasingly more nervous. “Are you on sunday? A friend of mine is going to perform in the Opera Epiclese and I wanted to go, so…”, your voice died down as your cheeks turned just red enough for Navia to notice. “Do you want to go together?”

As a tense silence settled into the room, you found it increasingly more difficult to keep a somewhat composed face, a part of your brain urging you to simply vanish as another screamed at you, and yet, when you finally found the courage to glance at Navia’s face only to see her stare at you with a wide smile, her mouth slightly open as if she was trying to say something yet couldn’t find the right words, you suddenly relaxed.

“Sure, it’s a date! I look forward to it.”

Within a moment you found yourself smiling at her in return, nodding your head before readying to leave the room and finish your work so you could start preparing as soon as possible. “Until Sunday then, partner”, you said your goodbye before closing the door behind you, leaving behind a Navia that suddenly felt full with energy again, all the exhaustion that had built up over the week gone to the wind as she instantly sprang into action.

“Until Sunday, partner…”

#navia #navia x reader #navia x y/n #genshin navia #navia x you

281 notes · View notes

mcverse · 5 months

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☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚)

☆ 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐞 / 𝐧𝐨, 𝐩𝐮𝐤 / 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐲𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐚 / 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧 / 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 / 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞 / 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐤𝐱𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠 / 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐞 , 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

☆ 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

“(Name).”

Your eyes flutter, emotions dancing behind each closed eye lid. Your ears press flat against your head as you contemplate whether you’ve heard him right. He speaks your name, a phrase that has spilled from his lips more times than you can recall, to the point where it reaches you even in your dreams.

And yet, this time feels distinctly different. There's an added emphasis and sharpness to it, as if it weighs heavily on his tongue just to say those words. It's almost forced, yet strangely lacks the hesitation one would typically expect in a conversation such as this.

In all your time around him, even during teasing or comforting moments, he has never spoken to you without that gentle tone. The absence of it leaves a void, something you regretfully yearn for now as you find yourself locked in a tense gaze with what seems like a monster in disguise.

He hides his intentions so effectively that you never imagined this confession would take this direction. He fineses the situation so well that you thought of him as a personified version of a blinding sun, simultaneously painful to gaze upon yet offering a small, delightful wave of burn that stings as it gently caresses every inch of your exposed skin.

Your partially chapped lips remain sealed; you’re too afraid that uttering anything would make a bad situation worst. Doubt creeps in. Have you been mistaken all along? Perhaps he doesn't feel the same way after all?

In all honesty, that thought never crossed your mind. It’s not because you’re naturally confident; it's simply because he has a knack for making you feel self-assured enough to entertain the possibility of something more between you both, all based on his actions.

Those moments you didn’t imagine, no matter how much they feel like you did—they were just for you. No other woman in the village has his attention, no other woman does he hold in his arms, bare his heart to, or whisper sweet nothings that are just that; nothing.

That's all it is and all it comes down to, proven to you by his now tense posture and the stone stare he sends you. And it only further destroys the pedestal that you held him so highly upon as he continues to talk while you remain stunned in place.

“I didn’t mean for it—us—to get here…”

What does that mean? You can't help the curt tilt of your head as your eyes swirl with confusion. Did he intend for things to reach this point? Did he knowingly lead to this outcome? It’s a thought that nags at you, but it’s hard to reconcile with the Neteyam you once knew; it just doesn’t seem like something he would do.

The Neteyam you know wouldn't intentionally lead you on. He wouldn't deliberately create a sense of comfort, flood your thoughts with him, and ultimately make you fall in love with him. That idea seems entirely absurd in the context of who you believe him to be.

You blink, swallowing thickly as you part your lips to speak. Licking them, you question him, “I’m not… what do you mean, ‘I didn’t mean for us to get here?’” You need confirmation of your assumptions or even an explanation of why you could be wrong.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, the weight of the moment clearly taking a toll on him. He lowers his head to the ground, unable to meet your eyes. "This shouldn't be happening... It can't go beyond this," he says, the second statement not aimed at you but more of a self-directed declaration.

You don't know what overcame you to respond in the way you did. It's hard for you to even understand why you aren't more on the offense as you softly ask him, "Tell me why not?," when you should be offended and defensive more than anything.

And worst of all, you don't get why your heart is still holding on to hope when you know the answer, but you've played it up to this point like you don't.

He takes a moment to respond, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he's the one facing rejection at this very moment, rather than the other way around. "It'll feel like I'm betraying her," he finally admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotions.

You may not have known her personally, but you were aware of her existence, and it all makes sense now. It's clear why no other woman is beside him, even though he's of age to mate. The woman he truly desires is miles away, back home where he should be.

You're not her. You just happened to be there when he was feeling low and had nothing better to do. In other words, the time you spent together wasn't enough; you weren't enough.

And the painful truth is that you wish you were enough. Because if you were never going to be enough for him, he should have let you go. It hurts more to be only partially loved when it would hurt less to not be loved at all.

"Betrayal?" You can't help but let out a bitter laugh. His use of the word feels like a double standard, painfully ironic in this context. "You know nothing of betrayal. If you had even a hint..." You pause, tears swelling in your eyes, your face burning with a mix of humiliation, embarrassment, and suppressed anger. "You wouldn't have caused my heart this much pain."

Your words draw his attention back to you, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly agape in apparent shock at your statement.

It only rubs saltwater into your fresh wounds. Did he truly give so little thought to your feelings? It becomes painfully clear that he strung you along, relishing the attention you gave him while holding you in such low regard.

How could you have been so blind?

A better question, how could he be so heartless? Or was it that he only had a heart when it came to her?

Neteyam snaps his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin, tight line. His forehead creases as his eyes flicker over your features, skillfully reading you like a puk. It took a while, months, but he now knew you.

He probably knew you better than you knew yourself because even though he might say it shouldn't have come to this, he had a feeling that's where you were heading.

He could have stopped it, could have saved you the pain—the yawnyewla of falling for someone like him knowing how he felt, but he didn't... a small part of him didn't want to.

A single tear falls down your cheek, but you quickly brush it away. Your chest rises and falls in a slow yet steady rhythm as you work to calm your racing pulse. “You are kawnglan. I wish to never see you again.” you hiss softly, then pivot on the balls of your feet and hurry away from him.

Night falls quickly as you remain within your mauri for the remainder of the day, choosing to nurse your wounds, however poorly you may be at it. You've never been heartbroken before, so a plan needs to be put into motion.

While you wish never to see him again, that doesn't seem practical. You also don't want to stay inside, pouting and crying your eyes out until your tear ducts dry either.

In the days that follow and those that come after, you do the opposite. You put on a facade when you're around others, while at night, you take off your mask.

It's challenging to maintain the act in public, especially when Neteyam is nearby or when you bump into him. However, you are determined to avoid him, even if it means a brief interaction before you can find relief.

Many nights, you lie awake, unable to sleep because your mind is filled with scenarios. You're constantly coming up with better ways to react to his rejection or what you'll say if you ever have another conversation with him.

Ewya, if you had just admired him from a distance, this wouldn't be your reality right now. But instead, you went out of your way to learn his name. Now, all you want is to forget it, to forget him.

You've never felt more unlike yourself. It's hard to recognize yourself when you look into the water during the sun-kissed mornings. Putting yourself willingly into the hands of another for the first time, only for it to backfire horribly, was a terrible mistake.

You should have made a better choice. You should have known better—you knew right from wrong, so how could you not see how wrong it was to love a man who yearns for another?

You spent months avoiding him, and as time went by, it became second nature, making it easier to see less of him without much effort. Were you taking this too far? You didn't think so.

He knowingly took a part of you, so it's only fair that he also knows how you can't stand to be around him... at least not now—he’s lucky if you ever will again.

You learned two lessons from this: There's no better feeling than a first love—it's unforgettable, just as there's nothing worse than a first heartbreak—it takes time to forgive and heal.

And although you were slowly healing, you were cautious as you dipped your toe back into the dating field. You'd be lying if you said you weren't afraid to get hurt again. A small part of you doesn't think you can handle another heartache, so you started slowly; taking baby steps, and this time, you didn't put all your eggs in one basket.

Al'wah, you met him one day while you were sitting thoughtfully on a rock. He came up and sat beside you, and although it was awkward at first, he was smooth at talking.

He even went as far as to say he'd been interested in you for a while but Neteyam was in the way. Unlike Neteyam, he was brave enough to admit his true feelings, and you were flattered. However, you weren't ready to commit while after getting to know him better, Al'wah was.

Next was Zen'kí, a very calm and talented fisherman, proving he was a natural provider. Your conversations with him were easier, as he was more down-to-pandora than anyone you've actually met, and he was truly caring—about nature and all of Pandora's inhabitants.

The only reason it didn't work out was because of rumors among the women of the village. They said that O'laya had been interested in Zen'kí for much longer than you. After knowing how it feels to be in love with someone interested in another, you had to do the right thing and step back so she could finally step up.

There were a few others: Koar and Whûn’k. Each one left an indelible impression, but it wasn't meant to last. Then, you reconnected with Seyknü, a Na'vi you had actually grown up close to. It genuinely surprised you to learn that he was interested in you.

When you were growing up, you had the biggest childish crush on him until Neteyam came around. Now, it seems he's seeing you differently. You can work with that.

As you reconnect with Seyknü, your opinion on commitment change, and it's happening at the right time. You're rediscovering how much he can make you laugh, how charming he is, and how attentive and protective he is toward others. It's good to see that he hasn't changed, but it's tough to realize that you have.

He accepts you wholeheartedly for who you are, and you're ready to reciprocate the same in time. However, it's Neteyam's current actions and whatever game he's playing that seem to be getting in the way.

Honestly, what is he up to?

As your relationship with Seyknü continues, Neteyam's presence becomes more pronounced during your time together. This is growing emotionally taxing and weighing heavily on your heart.

Whenever you and Seyknü seek moments of intimacy or simply enjoy each other's company, Neteyam seems to find a way to insert himself into the situation. Whether he's with Tuk or claiming to have duties from his father, he's always nearby.

When you and Seyknü are lost in your own world, sharing laughter and joy, you can sense Neteyam's gaze on you, like a piercing dagger.

Even when Seyknü reaches out to touch you, whether for a helping hand or more intimately, it's rare for Neteyam not to interrupt. He either "accidentally" bumps into you both or enlists the help of one of the children to divert your attention.

This pattern persists for a while, causing you to question everything that has led to this point. Is it too much to ask for happiness? Should you lower your expectations? But you’re wrong about that too, as you seem to be a lot these months. This realization dawns on you one day when you go searching for Seyknü.

You find Seyknü near some large boulders, and just as you’re about to call out to him, you freeze in your tracks. He isn’t alone. Standing in front of him is Neteyam, and the atmosphere is thick with tension.

Neteyam’s face is contorted with anger, his eyes cold as he looms menacingly within a couple of feet from Seyknü.

Seyknü doesn’t look any better. His tense posture, ears flattened against his skull, and the twitching of his upper lip, baring his canines. With a chest puffed out, he hisses at Neteyam through clenched teeth, “What’s your problem!?”

Neteyam’s hands twitch at his sides, his ears flicking upwards at Seyknü’s tone, but he makes no movement suggesting he’s about to approach Seyknü anytime soon. “You are. Back off her,” he insists.

Seyknü blinks in confusion before his eyes widen as he realizes who Neteyam is referring to. He scoffs, casting a disdainful look up and down Neteyam’s form. “I’ll do no such thing. Save yourself the trouble and move on,” he retorts, his disgust evident in his expression. “She already has with me.” he adds with a smirk.

Neteyam’s jaw tightens in response to Seyknü’s statement. His tail goes stiff behind him as he closes the distance between himself and Seyknü, bringing their faces mere inches apart. Neteyam looms over Seyknü due to his greater height and attempts to explain, “She’s confused—”

But Seyknü interrupts him, shaking his head with a look of disbelief. “No, you’re the one who’s confused,” he retorts firmly. “You can’t force your way back into her life after how you’ve behaved.”

“Don’t speak as if you know what went on between us.”

"I know more than you think," Seyknü spits back, his attempt to push Neteyam away proving futile as Neteyam stands firm. With a confident smirk, Seyknü continues, "I'm the one she confides in now, the one she seeks when she's happy, and the one who takes care of her when she's excited..."

Tensions rise as their exchange becomes more heated but he appears entirely unbothered by the threatening look Neteyam gives him in response to this revelation. Seyknü's smirk widens as he taunts, "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You don't fit in here anymore. You're just a forest boy with no heart.. ha, sorry, a heart that remains anchored to a place far from here."

Neteyam can no longer tolerate Seyknü's words. He swiftly pins Seyknü against one of the boulders, pressing his hand firmly into the center of Seyknü's chest, rendering him immobilized, despite Seyknü's futile resistance.

A faint, mocking smirk tugs at the corner of Neteyam's lips as he observes how weak Seyknü seems, desperately gripping Neteyam's wrist with both hands.

Neteyam can't help but think... How can you be with someone like this? This island boy can't even free himself from Neteyam's grip. He's obviously too weak to protect you. If he can't protect you, Neteyam highly doubts he can provide for you, let alone please you as well as he could. In those aspects, there's no competition.

However, Neteyam acknowledges that everything else Seyknü claims is true. He pushed you into the arms of another man, making him feel like crap since and he often finds himself wondering if that's how he made you feel. He hates that feeling and regrets more than anything that he made you feel that way.

"Last time, Seyknü. Back off—" Neteyam's sentence is abruptly cut short by a powerful punch to the face. The impact temporarily sends him off his feet, and he staggers backward, creating some distance between them. Seyknü seizes the opportunity, taking advantage of Neteyam's momentary confusion, and tackles him to the ground, landing another hit on Neteyam's face.

As Seyknü prepares to land a fourth punch, Neteyam skillfully dodges it by moving his head to the side. In a swift counterattack, Neteyam headbutts Seyknü in the mouth, causing Seyknü to yelp in pain and clutch his mouth with furrowed brows.

Distracted by the pain, Seyknü fails to notice Neteyam's hold on him, ready to flip him over. Towering over Seyknü, Neteyam strikes him in the eye, followed by a flurry of punches targeting his nose and mouth. The physical altercation escalates with each blow Neteyam delivers.

You have to intervene, coming clean that you were eavesdropping because the situation is growing increasingly violent. Neteyam is viciously attacking Seyknü, who, by this point, is simply lying there and taking the blows.

"Get off him!" you shout, rushing in and grabbing hold of Neteyam to pull him away from Seyknü. He moves more easily than you'd expect once he realizes it's you. He watches as you bend down to check on Seyknü's condition. That simple action annoys Neteyam more than it should.

He interprets your concern as an indication that it’s because he's the most injured, or at least that's what he wants to think, rather than realizing that you simply didn't want to interact with him yet. But it was Seyknü who initiated the violence with the first punch, leading to this chaotic situation.

"Seyknü, Seyknü!" you urgently call out to him, trying to get him to open his puffy eyes, while wiping the blood from his face as best as you can. You growl, looking up at Neteyam, "What is wrong with you!?" you hiss, "You hurt everything you touch!"

Neteyam's ears flatten against his skull, his lips forming a small pout as his eyes soften at your words. He bends slightly as steps forward, reaching out to you, and says, “Please let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. This is what you do," you say with a sharp inhale, looking away. You move to help Seyknü up, his soft groaning urging you to assist him. “Just…leave us alone.” you add, walking past him with Seyknü to get him to the medic tent.

…

After ensuring Seyknü will be well taken care of and crafting a few believable lies, you make the decision to leave the hut. However, as you step outside, you pause when you spot someone loitering nearby.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your earlier annoyance resurfacing.

Hearing your voice, Neteyam turns to you, straightening up. He slowly steps closer to you, cautious as he should be because you were this close to heading back inside to avoid him. "Is he okay?" he asks softly, nodding toward the tent.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and cross your arms. "You mean after you beat the crap out of him? He's holding on."

Neteyam rolls his eyes in response, shaking his head, his braids swaying with his movements. "He hit me first," he tries to defend himself, but you're having none of it.

"That doesn't give you the right to do what you did!" you exclaim, stepping closer to him, fists clenched at your side as your whole body burns with anger. "You could have killed him!"

He groans, his brow-bones furrowing deeply as he looks away, his teeth clenched in visible conflict. "Why him?..."

Your expression shifts from anger to confusion as you raise a eyebrow. "Why what?" you ask, crossing your arms and studying him closely, trying to discern what's going on in his head.

"Why him, out of all the men in the village?" he asks, his tone curious, and he fixes an expectant gaze on you.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. His question seems to revolve around Seyknü—on why you chose him. What does this have to do with Neteyam? Given what he did, this is what he was more concerned about? This wasn’t the kind conversation you had in mind, and it's not a topic you're inclined to discuss with him.

You pivot on your heel, declaring your intentions, "I'm going home."

"No," Neteyam's voice booms behind you as his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from prying eyes. He leads you to a clearing and stops, releasing your wrist, his expression now serious. "I'm trying to talk to you!"

"I don't want you to! What I do is none of your business!" you shout, your voice tinged with frustration, your arms gesturing wildly. Your patience is wearing thin, and you're overwhelmed by a mountain of emotions.

You're starting to feel like you're the one losing your mind here, not him. And that's an issue because the problem here is undoubtedly Neteyam. "Why are you so insistent on meddling in my life? What difference would knowing make?”

“Because I still might have a chance” he shouts back, his voice laced with desperation. His chest heaves as he locks eyes with you, and you’re left utterly stunned by his words.

“What?…” Your voice wavers as you struggle to comprehend what he’s saying.

"I messed up, okay!? I was a skxawng—blind and… afraid." He trails off, the last word falling off his lips with hesitation before he gathers himself and continues, “But not anymore. I finally see what was in front of me all along." With each word, he takes a step closer, a sense of urgency in his eyes as he looks down at you, seeking your understanding.

With each step, you back away, shaking your head and raising a finger to mimic your disbelief. "No. You can't just… You're not saying what I'm thinking… are you?"

He nods, following you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm not hooked on the wrong girl. The one I want is right here, right in front of me. I can't be afraid of letting her slip away too when I can do something about it right now."

A small gasp escapes your lips as your back meets a tree, leaving you trapped between it and him. Your wide eyes meet his, and your pulse races fast in sync with your thoughts. Since your confession, you never thought he would reciprocate your feelings.

The tables have turned. He's the one approaching you this time. In the past, you might have been thrilled by this new development, but now, knowing what you do, happiness isn't what you feel. Who did he really think he was?

"That's a shame," you say, swallowing subtly with a dry cough to clear your throat, averting your eyes as you attempt to seem uninterested. "You're a little too late. I'm over you." You lie through your teeth, hoping he believes it because you were struggling to believe them yourself. Deep down, you know that you won't ever truly get over him, but you need to try to move on.

He stops in his tracks, his face briefly contorting with hurt. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign that you're lying. Then, as quickly as the hurt appeared, it vanishes, and he's inches away from you, his arms caging you in. "You're lying," he states firmly.

You firmly press your hands against his chest, your voice slightly quivering, "N-No, I'm not!" The tremble in your voice betrays the emotions coursing through you as you apply more pressure. It's been months since you've been this close, and the sudden proximity sends your senses into disarray, leaving you feeling utterly disoriented.

Yet, everything about him remains unchanged; from the musky scent you've grown so fond of, down to the comforting warmth that still emanates from him, a warmth you continue to crave even on these darkest of nights.

His breath gently fans across your face as he leans in closer, until your chests touch. "Then look at me when you say it," he murmurs huskily, his words carrying the weight of a shared secret between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and his features soften as he takes in the tension etched across your face. "Look at me."

It's not a trance. It really isn't. He no longer holds sway over your emotions or actions because your heart has found its place, firmly back in your chest and out of his hands. You've taken control of that all by yourself. Nevertheless, you can't help but respond to his command, your breath catching as your gaze locks onto his mustard-colored eyes, your heart quickening as you notice the unmistakable intensity in his dilated pupils.

Your lips are just centimeters apart, on the verge of touching, about to share a single breath. One part of your mind warns you that it might be a bad idea, while the other part insists that you miss him dearly, and a brief moment of connection wouldn't cause any harm; you can part ways afterward.

You bite down on your lip, fighting the urge, and murmur, “No…” Your eyes remain glued to his lips, torn between desire and caution. You can’t let this happen. Entangling yourself in his web of lies would be self-destructive. It took what felt like an eternity to heal from the figuratively scars he gave you.

"No?... You're not listening again," Neteyam grumbles, his accent growing heavier with each word. He lets go of the tree, cupping your face with his large, warm hands, urging you to lock eyes with him again. "Now, say it," he presses, a mix of frustration and longing in his gaze, searching for your response.

You part your lips, all set to utter the words as your focus returns, but an inexplicable lump forms in your throat, choking your voice.

He waits for just a moment, his mind already determined on what comes next, but he does so with a bated breath, hoping you won’t utter the words he dreads. It’s clear that you’re stronger than him, evident in how you’ve rebuilt yourself after your last encounter.

He'd go to any lengths to prevent that from happening. Getting over his previous love became more manageable after he sorts out his feelings, partly thanks to the distance and you. Yet, if he has to remain here, watching you move on right before his eyes, getting over you will be an agonizing process. He's prepared to do whatever it takes, even if it means begging, to avoid that.

Your silence stretches on, becoming almost unbearable, and Neteyam's patience finally gives way. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's not as gentle as he'd like it to be. His kiss is passionate, a raw expression of all the intense emotions coursing through him, a desperate attempt to convey just how much he wants you, and only you.

You fight it at first, not wanting to give in but your lips mold so well into his and they feel so soft against your own that you cave. Instinctively you turn your head to deepen the kiss and he takes your submission as an okay to slide a hand down your back and tangle the other in your hair so you’re flush against him.

Ewya you missed him. Every part of him. Down to his braids that always wack you in the face to the mischievous glint in his eyes when he’s caving into Lo’ak antics. Is it even possible to miss someone this much when they’ve been so close to you this whole time?

You grunt when your back hits the tree again, with more force than before. It was enough to knock you back to your senses and your mumbling against Neteyam’s lips before pulling away and placing a steady hand on his chest to stop him from chasing yours.

“Kehe…” you huff firmly, trying to catch your breath. What was he doing? Trying to literally take your breath away? He was on the right track if he was. “I can’t be with you.”

He only hugs you tighter, cradling your head in the hand still in your hair, “Why not? I know you still want me. Don’t do this. I want you too… I need you.” he pleads, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then several times again, hoping to distract you from continuing this conversation when he can be showing you something better.

“I can’t stand you.” you blurt out, naming one reason why this can’t move on. It’s only a half lie. You can spend all your days staring at him, his beautiful patterned smooth skin and luminescence freckles that littered his body. He was art in its purest form. A rare shell you can only find at the bottom of the ocean in a dozen eclipse.

But you couldn’t stand him all the same. He played you, like a wind flute and he had no remorse when he tore you down. He can’t just show up when he had time to mule over his mistakes and comes to terms with his heart. As a warrior—no, a man—he should have had enough courage to tell you how he truly felt before you let yourself get in too deep.

He hums, showing he acknowledges your statement before mumbling, “I know…” as he trails from your cheek to your neck, licking a strip up your pulse, which he found easily due to your heart rate. He plants a kiss before attacking it, sucking hard enough to leave a bright, purple bruise.

Your body tense automatically at the strange sensation, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite your lip to stop the moan from leaving your lips. Your body may be tense, yet it arches off command to get closer to him.

If he knows, then why is he kissing you and handling you like you’re already his? It was embarrassing, leaving you feeling shame when it’s him who should after what he did and what’s he doing now.

“I hate you.” you continue, opening your eyes to peer up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly—it’ll be wonderful to relax under it but instead you were being ambushed by a persistent ex-someone.

He breathes out a chuckle, finding your words amusing as he continues to assault your neck with more marks of claim, “You don’t.” he replies matter of factly, shaking his head and causing his braids to tickle your shoulder. He jerks your head back enough for him to move on to the other side to apply the same treatment.

The tug causes you to whimper slightly, it is both pleasure and pain, but the pain wasn’t physical—at least not in that way. “Yes, I do.” you insist, thankful he’s holding you so securely as he does or you’ll surely collapse to the floor, wishing in that second that it’ll swallow you whole.

He pulls away just enough to look you in your eyes, his own a shade darker than normally, “You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”

His words cause you to freeze, eyes wide again at the realization that he was in fact correct. All you had to do was tell him no, tell him you really didn’t want this and walk away because even though he was a manipulator as recently discovered, he still held some honor. He had sisters, he wouldn’t take it that far if you didn’t want to.

Which brings you back to this moment, why can’t you seem to do just that?

"I understand," he whispers, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "I know I need to work to earn your trust back." He presses his lips softly against your nose. "Consider this a promising start." He concludes with a gentle kiss on your lips, expressing his sincerity in a less intimidating manner.

He leaves you breathless once more, and you allow it, letting your emotional barriers crumble to expose the heart that still longs for him underneath. Your heart races in your chest, and you wonder if he can feel it against his own—if they beat in unison, if you affect him as profoundly as he affects you. Just this once, you wish for him to share your nervousness.

After a few minutes, he breaks away, his lips parting, both of you slightly out of breath. Though it might not have matched the intensity of your first kiss, you're secretly flattered by the thought that you have an effect on him, even if it's more subtle.

Before long, he returns his attention to your body, his lips finding the front of your neck, coaxing you to tilt your head back again. He showers you with kisses and gentle nibbles as he travels down to your collarbone. When he playfully nips at it, you can't help but emit a mixture of a whimper and a hiss, to which he responds with a low chuckle.

His hand, previously entangled in your hair, loosens its grip, and the one resting on your lower back joins it on your hips, softly caressing your skin as he continues his downward journey. Although the angle is slightly awkward, he doesn't seem to mind. His lips trail along the edge of your top. You observe his every move, a sense of anticipation growing within you as you wonder what he’s going to do next.

As if he's attuned to your thoughts, he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes just as his bottom lip brushes over your nipple from beneath the revealing top. The sensation makes you jump slightly, and your nipple responds by stiffening. You resist the urge to hide your face, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It felt really good. It shouldn’t feel that good with him of all people.

His ears perk up, his interest piqued by your body's reaction. He repeats the action, gradually applying more pressure with each brush, making you squirm and proclaim that it's not enough. "Stop," you frown, "Quit teasing me. You have no right."

He apologizes with a kiss to the center of your chest. "I couldn't help it," he says, "Your reactions are adorable, they drive me crazy…." He trails off, running his hands up your back, fingers toying with your straps before loosening them and letting the top fall to the ground.

He pulls back slightly, gazing at you in a way you never thought he would. "You're so beautiful, yawne. How could I have been so blind? Forgive me, however long that takes."

You're completely lost for words. Despite all the different sides of Neteyam you remember from before you both went your separate ways, you can't recall a time when he was this gentle—even when you thought he was already at his gentlest with you.

It makes your stomach flutter with shimmyflies. If this is his way of trying to earn your forgiveness, you won't be able to remain headstrong for long. It won't be long before you're putty in his hands once again.

"I refuse to listen," you stammer out, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him. Your body may have yielded to him, but you won't entertain his lies. You don't have to pretend there's something more. Right now, you only need one thing from him, and it doesn't involve much talking.

"That's fair," he mutters, "I deserve that." Leaning forward, he playfully sticks his tongue out to gently lick your right nipple. "I won't talk anymore, I’ll show you…" he concludes before wrapping his mouth around it and giving a fervent suck. His action elicits a shuddering exhale from you as you arch your chest forward and weave your fingers through his braids, pulling him closer.

A deep groan reverberates from his chest as you secure his hair firmly, keeping him in place. He proceeds to suck, lick, and nibble, to the point where drool starts forming at the corner of his mouth. His breathing becomes ragged, his hold on you tighter and you can only imagine the tightness in his tewng.

It doesn’t take much for you to imagine the wetness forming in yours. You can feel it, moistening the fabric right at the center. With each passing second, it grows even wetter as he continues to suck, teasing your nipples until they border on a pleasurable ache. Soon enough, he switches to the other side, repeating the tantalizing treatment; one of his hands slithers up your body to keep your other company.

With a gentle pop, he pulls away, lightly pecking your puffy nipple before gazing up at you from beneath his thick lashes. Neteyam seems like he wants to say something, as evident in the way his jaw slackens, but he quickly closes it, perhaps recalling his earlier words. Instead, he averts his eyes, focusing once more on your breast before trailing down your body, mirroring his descent as he settles on his knees to align with your navel.

His hands find your hips, but they don’t stay there long when one confirmation curt nod from you has him untying your tewng, joining your top on the ground. You shiver slightly, attempting to squeeze your legs shut as the cold air hits your glistened lips.. Neteyam doesn’t allow you to succeed, choosing to grab your inner knees and keep them open.

There’s this primal, cloudy look in his gold optics as he stares at you for a moment too long before he leans in to give a long, drawn out lick from your hole to your clit. Your breath hitch when the pressure on your clit was oddly aggressive and moan as that one lap turns into many messier laps.

As he presses firmly against your lips, any concern about his ability to breathe fades when his tongue delves into your trembling heat. The rhythmic brush of his nose against your clit dispels any lingering worries. His groans intensify with each movement of your hips against his face, his gaze alternating between your expressions and the mesmerizing sway of your breasts.

He could spend hours savoring the taste of you, never growing tired. Your intoxicating scent sends him into a frenzy, he’s humping the air as thoughts of you consume his mind. He was suffocating, yes, but in the best way.

Neteyam’s hand skillfully guides your leg over his shoulder,, the new angle making it easier to fuck his face as his tongue reaches deeper. Your hips move almost instinctively, driven by the mounting tension in your stomach; you're close and Neteyam knows it or he wouldn’t be guiding your movements to go faster, mouth open as he eagerly awaits to taste every drop you offer, his tail thrashing behind him in anticipation.

Moments later, sensing your need for an extra push towards the edge, he plunges two thick fingers into you down to the knuckle with a curl that has you throwing your head back and creaming all over them.

It required every ounce of restraint to prevent his name from slipping out amidst the sinful moans escaping your lips. Despite experiencing the most amazing head you’ve had, you cling to the last shreds of your sanity, refusing to reveal his name.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening in his hair as the overwhelming sensation of him slurping your juices clean threatens to overstimulate you. Despite your attempt to pull away, Neteyam remains steadfast, only relenting once he’s finished. As he withdraws, he licks his lips and rests his head on your thigh, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I hope that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he steals a glance at you, his ears perked. "It was hard to stop; you taste like something forbidden."

"You're speaking again..." you grumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably at his words. "What did I say?"

Neteyam chuckles, rising to his full height and pressing his chest against yours. Your leg, previously draped over his shoulder, now finds a resting place at his hip. “I was thinking about that while I was…” He pauses, lip curling as he observes the flushed pout on your face. “And I realized that whether you listen or not, talking is better than silence. Although there wasn’t much silence from you just moments ago.”

You hiss, anger and embarrassment mingling as you bare your teeth, your ears pressing flat against your head, “Is this a joke to you?!” Were you, even now after what you’ve done together, a joke to him?, you want to ask, but the potential answer makes you hesitate.

“Have you truly not been listening?” he responds with a question of his own, his tone earnest. “I’m here with you, finally… showing you how I feel, expressing all this because I need you.” He tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he locks eyes with you. “Only you,” he adds with unwavering conviction.

Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Don’t you crave, (Name). Don’t you fucking dare. Remember the pain, the hurt, the tears, and the loneliness he put you through. How you weren’t even his first choice, how some good head wasn’t equivalent to love.

You swallow thickly, your voice catching in your throat. "What does that mean, Neteyam..?"

You’re stronger than this.

Without hesitation, he responds, "I see you... hey..." gently guiding you to meet his gaze when you attempt to turn away. "I see you, always have, always will. What do humans say? 'Till death do us part'?"

Damn it.

You burst into laughter, a deep, genuine sound that reverberates through the air, and playfully smack his shoulder at his amusing choice of words. "Enough," you protest with a breathy whine, feeling the heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Humans have such strange ways with words."

Neteyam nods, acknowledging your point. “You’re right. Death wouldn’t stop me. My love for you will endure even beyond death,” he affirms, sealing his words with gentle kisses to your lips. “Please, tell me you feel the same,” he requests softly, pulling back to search your eyes. “I need to hear it from you.”

Gazing at his lips, you contemplate whether to voice your feelings or not—though, in truth, you already have. But saying it again, what if this was just a dream and it would end like your first confession? After a moment, you meet his gaze squarely, "I still feel the same. My feelings never left," you affirm softly.

His shoulders relax as he exhales deeply, his eyes softening and smile becoming more relaxed as he firmly grasps your other leg, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. He presses you back against the tree, his pelvis pressing against your bare pussy, you can feel just how hard he is during this whole confession, "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he confesses, pulling you even closer.

"Hm..." You playfully arch an eyebrow. "Judging by your tweng , I'd say very happy... perhaps we can make each other even happier."

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lyrenminth · 4 months

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Could I request one for Justin similar to the Joe one, maybe where the reader is pregnant and has some bleeding or feels really unwell so they go to the hospital but the doctors made sure the reader and baby were okay ❤️ also would love some overprotective Justin once they go back home ! Thank you 😊

Protective Justin.

I love this request, and I love writing it. I hope you like it.

The fever started before dinner. You didn't want to say anything to Justin, because he has been so protective this past eight months about you, so didn't want to end up surrounded by wrap bubble paper.

During the dinner he made some shrimp pasta, and boiled potatoes. During the last month you were craving sea food so bad. Once you cried because you wanted fried shrimp so bad, Justin ended up going to the supermarket at midnight. It was a blessing your delivery was during the off-season. For the first time he skipped the OTAs, he would wait until it became mandatory.

You were craving the pasta until you had it in front of you. It was disgusting. Justin was already eating so eagerly that you held a deep breath and eat a fork of pasta. You grimace. "Is not good?" he asked looking a bit sad. "No, it's good. I'm not hungry" you sighed, and touched your forehead. Why was the chair moving? You tried to focus on your husband, blinking repeatedly.

"Oh my god, you're sick" the panic in his voice made your stomach hurt.

His worried expression made you try not to show any more signs of pain, but the headache was getting worse. You touched your swollen belly and patted it a couple of times. Hopefully, your first daughter with Justin would be born in May. It was something you both longed for so much.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. Getting up.

"No, I feel very dizzy," you lamented.

"Just dizzy?" He asked, forgetting about dinner and reaching for his phone.

"My head has been hurting,"Justin frowned and clenched his jaw. "Why didn't you tell me anything?" he demanded.

Your eyes started to fill with tears at his rude tone of voice. Justin shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, it's just that I worry about you." He apologized and approached to touch your forehead to see if you had a fever. He grimaced upon verifying that everything was in order. "Let's go to the hospital, this isn't normal," he said, helping you to stand up. You wobbled a bit but leaned against his chest. You moved as much as your pregnancy allowed. Suddenly, you realized that maybe something was wrong with the baby.

"Justin," you called out, scared, "What if something happens to the baby?" Justin pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. "Shhh, don't say things like that. Everything is going to be okay," but his posture and the way he dropped the car keys twice let you know that he was nervous too. During the drive to the hospital, you vomited. You could only hear Justin cursing under his breath, but he kept driving until you arrived at the hospital. Once inside, you were half-conscious; the world was spinning, and you felt awful. "She started feeling worse a couple of hours before dinner, maybe around five. No, she's not allergic to anything. She's eight months pregnant. She told me she had a headache and felt dizzy. No, I don't know," you heard his desperate voice, and it touched your heart to have such a caring partner.

An hour had passed since you were admitted to the hospital. Justin was fidgeting with the car keys, trying to keep the panic he was feeling at bay. "Please, be okay, please be okay," he murmured. Maybe all the traveling took its toll, you didn’t get much rest, and perhaps being alone for most of the pregnancy didn’t help. He felt guilty for not being more present, for being a bad husband and now a bad father. He called his mother to inform her of the situation, and she kindly listened to him cry for fifteen minutes. Then he called Mitch, who, with his medical knowledge, explained the possible scenarios but reassured him that everything would be fine and that he would have to wait for the doctors' response. The mere idea of losing you made him feel sick, the worst nightmare he had ever imagined. The idea of losing both you and the baby was his worst fear. He couldn’t bear it. When he realized how negative his thoughts were, he started looking at your photos, feeling that everything would be alright.

The doctor and a nurse came out.

"Mr. Herbert?" He stood up as fast as lightning. The doctor had to crane his neck to see him. "Mrs. Herbert and the baby are fine." the doctor informed, Justin felt the weight on his shoulders lighten just a bit. "Her blood pressure was extremely high, but we managed to stabilize her, and she is under observation." Justin nodded, feeling the rock in his stomach grow smaller. His lower lip trembled. "Can I see her?" The doctor smiled and nodded. "She’s a bit drowsy but conscious." The nurse led him to the room where you were. Seeing you, he broke down in tears and came closer to kiss you and your swollen belly. "Thank God you're okay. I love you," His reaction surprised you because Justin wasn’t very emotional, but he must have been very scared. "My God, I don't know… the doctor said your blood pressure was extremely high. If I remember correctly, that's very dangerous," he continued crying, and you had to console him a bit. "I'm sorry, it's just… I was really scared," he confessed like a small child, all teary and red. "I can't imagine a life without you and without her," he said, touching your belly again. "It's okay, I'm here," you consoled him.

He took your hand and squeezed it slightly. "How are you feeling?" he wanted to know. You sighed wearily, "I feel tired, but happy that everything is okay." He nodded. "What can I do for you?" he asked, feeling lost. "I'm very hungry, but the doctors don't want me to eat until my blood pressure drops to 90." His beautiful green eyes kept watching you with utmost attention. He was assessing you, making sure everything was alright. "But I'd like to change into something clean, I think I peed myself a little," you confessed. He smiled and nodded, grateful that you gave him something to do. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Back home, Justin wouldn't let you do anything. Going down the stairs? He had to be there. Playing with Nova? No way. Watching TV shows that made you feel too emotional? No, no baby shows. He made sure to check your blood pressure every day at the same time and that you took your prescribed medication. More than once, you rolled your eyes at his concern, but you understood that you had given him a scare, so you took a deep breath and accepted the attention. It was hard for him to hand over the reins to your mother when he had to return to the Chargers' offices, but he sent you messages daily. "Justin, I'm going to be fine. I'm strong, your daughter is strong. I need you to believe that, okay? You need to focus on the new season." He would just press his lips together and say, "Of course you are," but he still kept an eye on you. He was stubborn, but so were you. And that's why you loved him.

Remember you still can send your request or ideas for fanfiction!

#justin herbert x reader #justin herbert #fanfiction #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert fanfiction #nfl

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elliespuns · 1 year

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Someone once pointed out Ellie's posture and how bad it has gotten over the years and I can't unsee it now. The toll it took on her. Just breaks my heart.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us game #tlou game #the last of us part 1 #tlou part 1 #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #elliespuns

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abubblingcandle · 3 months

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I love all your stuff from TIP but I just stumbled across your 16 year old Jamie and I'm just 🥺 Beard stepping up to be the one to actually ask Jamie what he wants and mentor him is so special and spot-on and ahhhh! I can't wait to read more if there's more!

Hey Charlie! Good to see you here too and I'm so glad that you've been enjoying my stuff.

16 year old Jamie is one of my fic ideas that I am most excited about but also one that I am quite apprehensive about as I want to do the concept justice! @altschmerzes has an amazing teen Jamie that inspires me daily in Wiggle Up On Dry Land and I want to do my version justice. So I have various story beats and I know how I want it to end but I've just got to get there and get all of these ideas tied up into a cohesive outline before I can get started properly.

I've mentioned before but the big theme of this fic is Jamie trying to take control of his own life. Young athletes their lives are so controlled and so structured and then you add the fact that Jamie is living with his dad throughout all of this is makes it worse. So! a big thing I am trying to work out is how I can drop hint of this and the toll it is taking on Jamie without it just being "look here's this child that is crumbling". Because Ted is going to want to just fix it but is also going to be quite blind to Jamie's struggles because Jamie is absolutely going to activate all of his dad panic. So in summary! I need to come up with the overarching threads before I can proper start writing :)

BUT here's a little snippet for you to tide you over until then:

"I'm worried about Jamie," Beard stated, slamming through the peaceful silence Ted was relishing like someone asleep at the wheel of a bulldozer. "Expound?" Ted frowned, leaning back on his chair. The wood creaked under the strain of the bend and the sound was a calming rhythm as he moved. "The lad's tired," Beard tucked the receipt back into his book and rested it on his chest when his posture turned to mirror Ted's. "This is his first premier league season and I will admit we have become quite reliant on his certain flair for the dramatic," Ted mused. "But he's a spring chicken and he's still springing around." “Not just physically, spiritually,” Beard continued, his lips settling into a grim line as he stared at Ted. “Well you know me. I don’t feel like a man upstairs would be that interested in the day to day life of me as much as I would love to be on cable tv but people can wish what they wish,” Ted shrugged. “He checks out when you’re talking. It’s like he’s not entirely there,” Beard added. Ted sighed and rolled his shoulders. Jamie did often seem disinterested whenever Ted opened his mouth but Ted did have that effect on people sometimes. It was bad, and Ted knew it was bad coaching, but some times a disinterested Jamie was better than an interested Jamie. Because, like all other teenagers Ted had interacted with, when he was listening and engaged ... he was really mean.

#candle writes #jamie tartt #16 year old Jamie tag #ted lasso #coach beard #ask box is always open

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dwellordream · 3 months

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thoughts on HOTD episode 3, season 2 (spoilers below)

i think the opening scene between the Blackwood and Bracken boys is very well done. some people complained about not seeing the battle itself, but the general audience is not going to care about seeing these minor characters flung into a battle. cutting between an immature, petty teenage fight that then escalates into a pointless slaughter, leaving both sides massacred, does a much better job of showing us how the civil war is going escalate feuds that would otherwise stay barely civil.

Rhaenys lecturing about peace comes across as a hypocritical when she massacred hundreds of peasants during her escape from King's Landing. but i also think it shows that while people like her, Rhaenyra, and Alicent are horrified by the death of highborn children, none of them are thinking in terms of the toll on the smallfolk. they think about the peace between the nobility- not protecting peasants. the deaths of Luke and Jaehaerys are horrifying, as are highborn men and women dying in battle, but not the slaughter or scapegoating of the peasants for the sins of their 'betters'.

the Alicent/Criston breakup seems to be pretty final, though I wouldn't be shocked if they crawl back to each other before the end of the season, more out of mutual self-loathing than genuine love or passion. I think it's pretty clear that while Alicent was attracted to him all along, their affair was moreso both of them venting their frustrations, repressed sexuality, and hatred (or, in Alicent's case, 'hatred') for Rhaenyra, then any actual epic love story.

the scene where Rhaenyra shunts Rhaena off to the Vale to 'protect' the children and their hatchlings is very well done. without a dragon, Rhaena stands no chance of subverting any Westerosi gender norms. Rhaenyra seems to recognize that, but is also prepared to sacrifice Rhaena's happiness if it means giving her sons a maternal figure. I see a lot of meta about how Rhaenyra is a much happier and more affectionate/gentle mother than Alicent, and I don't think that's wrong, per se, but I also don't think Rhaenyra is as comfortable with motherhood as many fans insist. of course, she's in an impossible situation- she cannot be a queen leading a war effort and also a doting parent. but I wouldn't say being a mother is what brings her the most happiness and peace, either. Daemon has disappointed her again and again as a husband and partner, and while her children adore her, they also find her difficult to live up to.

I'm glad there wasn't an epic battle of Daemon claiming Harrenhal. the castle itself is supposed to be an eerie, demonic, almost living sort of abomination, and so Daemon takes it with ease, because that's what Harrenhal wants. the Strongs themselves put up no resistance, because there's no point, and because they know Harrenhal is reluctant to let go of anyone who enters its halls. Daemon comes across as massively insecure and paranoid despite his easy conquest, both because Harrenhal itself unsettles him, and because he knows Rhaenyra's faith in him is greatly reduced.

someone told Freddie Fox to look to Jaime Lannister's depiction in the early seasons of GoT for his inspiration as Gwayne, and I don't think that was a bad idea, lol. he nails it as the smug, superior, posturing knight, and I'm excited to see what they do with him. of course, Alicent uses him as a tool against Criston, and Criston takes the moment to embarrass Alicent by loudly requesting her favor- I would not be surprised if his resentment towards her boils over by the end of the season, and he begins to loathe her as much as he does Rhaenyra.

I think the scene between Aegon and Aemond in the brothel was very well done. Aegon is probably right when he claims Aemond has only ever slept with the very first prostitute Aegon forced him to 'sample'. emotionally, Aemond is still that stunted, angry, frightened little boy who loathes being laughed at and wishes people feared him. he refuses to directly challenge Aegon out of a misplaced sense of duty and decorum, but has no issue humiliating a sex worker to preserve his own pride.

Daemon's dream sequence in Harrenhal is fantastic. it's the kind of thing GoT refused to engage in because they thought it too silly or esoteric, but I think future ASOIAF-related shows need to lean into the supernatural, not shy away from it. embrace the fantasy of the setting, please! and of course Daemon's ideal version of Rhaenyra is still a naive, impish young girl- who hasn't seen his flaws or his cowardice. he wanted the dream of a happy, perfect Valyrian family with Rhaenyra, but reality is far harsher. he's abandoned his children and made his wife out to be a kinslayer with his actions.

the contrivance of the Alicent/Rhaenyra sept scene is absurd, obviously. however, i disagree with those arguing that it 'ruined the episode'. it is hardly the most contrived scene in the show thus far, and i can forgive its contrivance because the audience wants- and needs- to see a scene like this between Alicent and Rhaenyra- maybe one of their final conversations in private, ever. yes, Alicent could have seized the moment to have Rhaenyra captured or killed outright, but that still wouldn't stop the war. Daemon and Jace would not suddenly surrender- even if they wanted to save Rhaenyra's life, they would know their own lives would be forfeit the moment they surrendered. and honestly, anyone who thinks it would be more 'in character' for Alicent to have Rhaenyra killed right now is kidding themselves. yes, she hates Rhaenyra- and she also clearly still loves her.

i've enjoyed this episode the most out of all this season. a 9/10, in my opinion, and i hope we don't backslide with the second half of episodes.

#hotd #word to the wise

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leopardom · 8 months

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This story has five chapters

Note: this is based on only some thoughts of mine about Damon Baker's photos of Kris. They are entirely subjective and this is just a try by my side to analyze the photos in a story-like way. I don't do that often and just scream in posts or in the tags but ✨emotions✨ are strong because of this story Damon is illustrating with the guys so I felt like giving this a try

Chapter 1: Kris

What a beautiful boy. He is young, only 24, and his features are still so delicate, almost as if puberty didn't hit him yet. He's not young only on the outside, he's young on the inside too. So young and so innocent...

But this world he lives in is putting pressure on him. He has to be a man. But he doesn't feel like a man, at least not yet.

However, he's trying to act like one. He's just a breath away from his middle twenties and his body is fully grown by now. It should be easy to be a man, right? He doesn't know the answer. Because society's pressure and norms are taking their toll on him. His body posture seems neutral at first glance, but his eyes are full of curiousness about something. Something that he has yet to discover and is dying to discover.

Then he looks at you straight in the eye and you finally see it. Sadness. Defeat. He doesn't want to be society's man. He want's to simply be young. A young boy that has yet to find out things about the world. And most importantly, has yet to find out things about himself.

So for a moment, there, at the corner of the room, he goes limb. He lets himself fall to the floor, he needs to do this. And he's sitting there, on his white loose shirt and his briefs, half top indicating his manly nature and half bottom showing his innocent side. The curious child inside him who doesn't bother to go pantless because that's harmless when you're so, so young.

A flower is there. He doesn't know what kind of flower that is, but it's beautiful and fresh. Fresh just like him. He picks it up, plays with it, let's himself feel it with his hands, talks to it, makes it his friend. The flower is pure, and so is he. So pure that he ends up putting it behind his ear.

And then he realises it. He's neither a man nor a boy now. "That's a girl!", that's what everyone would say. And he has learned that this is bad for someone born a male. This isn't good. It's sad. And the sadness is in his eyes, just like before. He pulls his knees close to his chest and loosely wraps his arms around them. He's trying to protect himself from the world's venom in a childlike way. However, he's not completely closed to himself. The curiosity is still there and he's making some room for it.

The flower and the shirt are gone. He's more bare now, yet still not completely. A cloth is wrapped around his head and glitter is surrounding his bright eyes, a step further into his experimentation. Now he's neither a man nor a boy, not even a girl. "He is like a woman!" that's what everyone would say. He knows it by now and he's used to it. His features were the first indication, his curiosity the second. He's used to this now.

But he's also tired of it because he's slowly realising who he is. And he wants a way out of the toxicity surrounding him. He wants to get rid of all these labels that are put on him with mean intentions. This is pressuring him and he's done with this pressure. He wants out.

He's breaking down. The anger, the frustration, all the tension that was building up inside him is getting out. He's silent, but his eyes speak volumes. If looks could kill, his would. If you dare get too close to him now, or open your mouth with vile intentions, he will snap at you. He's done with the bullshit. All he ever wanted was to just be himself in a way that made him feel good.

And then, in the middle of his breakdown, the water cascading over him and drenching him from head to toe... He finally finds his catharsis.

He lets the water wash away the angony and the negativity, all those things that have been clouding his mind for so long and were preventing him from being his true self. No one knows if water is the only thing that's covering his cheeks or if some of those dropplets are tears. But it doesn't matter. Right there, under the water, he's safe and he's getting freed. And the glitter around his eyes is still there and is shining.

He is shining. Shining so bright.

He opens his eyes, looks up to everywhere and nowhere. He knows.

This is not a man. Not a boy. Not a girl. Not a woman.

This is just a male with feminine feautures. This is a person who's been afraid to explore their identity, but not anymore.

This is a person.

This is Kris.

#joker out #kris guštin #emma is rambling #<- i've used this tag in the past but yeah that's it that's the tag now #if he ends up posting more pics after i post this i’ll @@@@@ him #(i’m joking i’ll just edit this whole thing)

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starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies · 2 years

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You’ve Got Me | J.A.

Pairing: Jackson Avery x Reader

Summary: After a shitty day, the last thing you want to do is schmooze hospital donors. Your best friend finds you hiding from the crowd and makes your night better like he always does.

This is based vaguely on the Rory/Tristan scene from Gilmore girls cuz it just felt like it fit jackson

A/N: I honestly really truly hate this, but I’ve been picking it apart for literally a month and rewriting and now I feel like I’ve just gotta post it 🤷🏻‍♀️ it’s also not proofread which is becoming the usual so I’m sorry

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 950 (she a short one)

Tonight was the annual fundraising gala for Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. You couldn’t stand these events. It always felt like you were being auctioned off like some prize calf, all the posturing and showing off your accomplishments while not-so-subtly begging donors to give you money. There was nothing you liked less than a night full of small talk while wearing a tight dress.

To make the night even worse, topping off your really shitty week of bad surgical outcomes and a lost patient, your boyfriend had picked an hour ago to dump you out of the blue. So now you have to go through the small talk and begging, sad and alone.

You had hoped to make a quiet entrance and head straight to the bar before you have to deal with any obnoxious patrons or drunk coworkers, but of course you have no such luck. Less than a minute after you step into the venue, you are cornered by two middle aged men pestering you with questions about your newest research.

When you finally extricate yourself from the pair of men after an hour of them asking condescending questions and trying to mansplain your own experiment back to you, you’re about ready to have a mental breakdown. Trying to keep your cool, you shake off the conversation and set back on the path to the bar.

You take a step towards the crowd of people and then stop again. It looks so overwhelming and you're already exhausted. Would they even really miss you if you left? Deciding to take at least a few minutes for yourself, you turn the other way. You wander down a hallway, finding a bottle of champagne on an abandoned tray. A quick look to make sure no one sees, and you swipe it before heading into a small quiet sitting room that’s just off the main area.

You slump onto the floor, kicking off your shoes and taking a sip of champagne. It feels like the longest day of your life and you’re just happy to finally have a moment of peace. You listen to the music flowing quietly through the wall and lean your head back, taking a moment to process the events of the day. Lost in your thoughts you don’t even notice someone has joined you until they speak up.

“Hey, you okay?” Jackson takes a seat next to you, concern filling his green eyes.

You give your best friend a small smile. “I’m alright, long day. I’m sorry for bailing out of the party. I just got a little overwhelmed.” You give him an apologetic look. Jackson has been working so hard on this fundraiser for weeks and you know it's been taking a toll on him. You don’t want him to feel like you don’t care.

He just shakes his head. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, I get it. It was starting to be a bit much for me too.”

You pass him the champagne bottle and he gratefully accepts, taking a sip. “I know I was born into this life, but god is it miserable,” he jokes.

You laugh. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly. I was here for all of five minutes before I gave up and came to hide.”

The two of you joke and chat for a while longer, passing the champagne bottle between you until it’s empty.

“Hey, where’s your boyfriend? I thought he was coming with you. Is he out there looking for you?”

You shake your head looking at the ground before muttering, “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Why not?” Jackson questions.

“Didn’t want to be.” You shrug.

“Idiot,” he laughs. You just give him a look. “I’m serious, Y/N. He just lost the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“I don't know about that, he seemed pretty happy to end it.” You shrug. “It’s fine. If I’m being honest with myself, the relationship had been falling apart for a long time. It just sucks that it had to happen this week.” Jackson nods. “Plus I had to come to this all by myself! You know how much I hate that!”

He laughs. “Yes, I do.”

You lean your head on his shoulder with a heavy sigh. Jackson has always been your rock, through thick and thin. You’re grateful he came looking for you tonight. His presence having eased your anxiety.

“At least I’ve got you,” you tell Jackson affectionately.

His body shifts towards you and you lift your head to face him. A look passes between the two of you that you can’t quite read.

“You’ve always got me, Y/N. I’m your person.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the intimacy of this moment. You feel as though you should look away, or say something, anything, but nothing comes out. You can’t think of anything but his soft green eyes on yours and the small smile on his lips.

And then, his lips are on yours, soft and gentle. His hand moves to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. Your head feels fuzzy and all you can focus on is Jackson, feeling his warmth in every inch of your body.

The kiss is everything you dreamed of and nothing you could have imagined all at once. It conveys every emotion the two of you have been holding inside for so long. The trust, friendship, longing, and love all mixed up together.

By the time you pull away, you believe his words with every fiber of your being. Jackson Avery is your person and he always will be.

Writing masterlist

#jackson avery #greys anatomy #jackson avery x reader #jackson avery fic #jackson avery imagine #greys anatomy fic #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy blurb #jackson avery blurb #stars writes #starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies

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kissingrhi · 2 years

Note

I perhaps need a pick me up so could I get a little Nacho and Lalo dealing with a reader that doesn't eat enough for their own good and it's dragging them down 👉👈

the way i jumped up when i saw this request because hurt/comfort yes always. also, as someone with bad eating habits/who forgets to eat, this is too real.

you could feel the grueling headache from behind your eyes, slithering its way around your skull. you were so incredibly uncomfortable, but you didn’t know what to say to either of them. you didn’t want to say a word. so you were fine just hugging yourself in lalo’s backseat, running your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to distract yourself.

lalo was humming a quiet tune, sometimes glancing over at nacho, who was biting his lip and staring out into the window. deep in thought. you guys hadn’t been working together a long time, and you were still finding out how you all connect best. such different people it was hard to place how to get shit done. lalo, the ever so charming individual, tried to make this trio work as much as he could. it was starting to grow, not by much though.

the awkward tension still lingered at times, the fidgeting, the clumsiness, all of it was definitely still there. so you sat in the backseat, your familiar trembling leg being what you could only consider a nuisance. you just pressed your head against the window, trying to curl your body in an attempt to find heat. it was cold outside, yet lalo of course found it “comfortable.”

“conejito, we’re heading to el michoacáno. hungry?” lalo asked, glancing at you through the rear view mirror with an impish grin.

“i’m okay, lalo. really, can you just drop me off home?” you said, littered with faux happiness, unsure if he was going to choose to obey your demands or not today.

“wow, i thought you were home already.” lalo pursed his lips, mustering up a giggle. “you know… home IS where the heart is.” he said, drawing out the last s in is.

when you and nacho didn’t laugh with him, he backed off, rolling his eyes. you were sure you heard him mumble something about how the two of you were no fun.

nacho definitely noticed your.. lacking posture, shaking leg, and dull eyes. he was the most observant out of the three of you. he could just tell something was off. he didn’t want to say anything, maybe it was just the winter air taking its toll. he looked at lalo when he reached a stop light, coughing so lalo would look at him. he glanced back at you, tilting his head. it was like some odd, secret language they’d formed. lalo just nodded, running a hand under his chin.

you decided to rest your eyes, yet of course the next time you opened them, you were headfirst into eye contact with none other than lalo, who has holding your car door open. his other hand was grandiosely signaling to the restaurant in front of you. you crossed your arms, giving the man a nasty stare. his smile didn’t falter, not even once. he knew you at this point.

“i know you want to go home, but come on.” he spouted, so loud it practically made you jump. “just trust me?” he shrugged, motioning with his hand to el michoacáno in front of you.

when you didn’t budge, he just tilted his head down and kept staring, teasingly, like he knew you couldn’t take the heat. when you groaned and unraveled your arms, timidly stepping out of his car, you were met with a strong hand patting you on the back.

“see, my friend! i told you.” he laughed, hand guiding you inside.

inside, you sat in a booth, across from nacho. lalo was in the kitchen doing god knows what, and of course one of his favorite songs was playing so he had to make a performance. you played with the joints on your fingers, pressing them together to see the skin pull apart. anything to avoid awkwardness with the man in front of you.

he had this look in his eyes, a shimmer you hadn’t seen before. his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes wide as he stared at you with two hands under his chin.

“you okay?” it was quiet, simple.

“me?” you asked, awkwardly laughing. “yeah, no- i’m fine. perfect.” you put a hand on your neck, massaging the flesh.

“you shouldn’t lie, you know.” he teased, small smiles etching their way onto both of your faces.

after the wholesome exchange, you heard a loud sizzling making its way closer and closer to you. before you knew it, you were met with some of the most gorgeous steak tacos you’d ever seen.

“family recipe.” lalo smiled, wrapping a towel over his shoulder and putting the tacos in front of you, fingers twinkling as he sat them down, sliding in beside nacho.

he also laid out beers for the three of you, elbowing nacho the slightest bit.

lalo popped open his beer, elbow on the table as he started to drink. “you know, no somos estúpidos.” he started, giggling as your eyes widened.

“what-“ nacho started, lalo and nacho now in a staring match at the cut off. “-he’s trying to say-“ still staring at each other. finally, he glanced back at you. “is that we do notice when a colleague is-“

“down in the dumps! ai yai yai! i haven’t seen you this depressed in a minute, god!” lalo said, pointing at your exasperated face.

“so i decided,” he continued, laying his chin on the palm of his hand. “you need some energy. some fuel, eh?” he pointed at the tacos presented neatly in front of you, reaching over to open your beer.

you rubbed your palms over your eyes, ignoring the heat finding its way into your body, heart seemingly stopping at the kind gesture. you mustered up a smile.

“that’s sweet, guys.” you said, genuine smile forcing its way onto your face as you saw lalo tilt his head, wanting you to say more. “thank you, lalo, for these show stopping, jaw dropping, gorgeous steak tacos.

nacho put out his beer, making a toast. “to heightened energy, to fuel.” “-so we can kick ass!” lalo interrupted.

you simply laughed, listening for the clink as the bottles pressed together. you took a sip, but you still hadn’t eaten. lalo and nacho were eyeballing you, waiting for you to respond.

“okay guys, i appreciate this but you are freaking me out with your staring.” you said, watching as both of their eyes softened, only softening more as you took a bite.

“holy shit.” was all you could muster at the explosion of flavor in your mouth, holding a fist in front of lalo for a first bump. he returned the gesture, throwing you a wink.

the three of your stayed there until the late hours of the night, warmth radiating off of all of you in different ways. there was a glimmer in your eyes like they’d never seen, a genuine smile on nacho’s face, and a look of endearment in lalo’s eyes for the two of you. no matter how long it took for you to finish, they stuck by you through all of it, conversing about the most random things like, “would you rather work at los pollos hermanos or die?”

“die.”

“yeah, die.”

when you were finally brought home, nacho walked you up to your door, shoving a couple gas station snacks into your arms. you opened your mouth, and he pressed into your shoulder blade.

“don’t fight with me on this.” his expression was stern but still loving, unlocking your door for you and standing against the doorframe as you pressed the food down.

his arms were crossed, just smiling at you. you walked back up to the door, waving goodbye to a wide-smiling lalo in the driver’s seat. finally, you turned you gaze to nacho, who stepped in front of the door so lalo couldn’t see.

he held his hand out in front of you and instinctively you grabbed it, face contorting into confusion. his palm pressed into yours, thumb rubbing over your skin. his hands were warm, and once he felt how cold yours were he grabbed both of yours and held them together with both of his.

“just-“ he looked down at his feet. “take care of yourself, okay?” he squeezed your hands.

“yeah, okay.” you smiled up at him, squeezing back. “goodnight nacho.”

“night.”

#lalo salamanca #nacho varga #nacho varga x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #THEM!!!!#wow i love them #ugh #so sweet #idc if they’re in the cartel they are lil meow meows #so much fluff #tooth rotting fluff

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lilacwants · 3 months

Note

hi!💓 this is my ask for homelander x reader. reader is a supe and has powers of persuasion (like poison ivy i guess?), super strength, teleportation. they’re really stoic and hard to read most of the time. anyways them and homelander are in a romantic relationship & have been for a while but he has never seen them really react to anything emotionally or open up to him. one particular day he doesn’t see reader at all but they’re needed because they need them to persuade someone to do something (maybe like stan edgar or something). eventually he finds them at the top of some building just sitting there and it’s kind of like hurt/comfort.

I don’t really know what exactly the reason the readers upset would be? you can choose lol maybe they got into an argument earlier and homelander said some really bad things or something about the readers past resurfaced.

touch me with a kiss.

notes: omg anon this is really got my inspiration going!!! i really hope you’ll love it 💓 summary: homelander comforts you on a rooftop, showing just how much he cares about you. warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, soft! homelander.

Homelander scanned the city from high above, his superhuman vision seeking out the familiar form of his love. You were elusive even to him, blending effortlessly into the bustling metropolis below. Today, however, your absence was more conspicuous than usual.

"Where are you?" Homelander muttered to himself, frustration mounting as he flew over rooftops and through the urban landscape. His mind raced with scenarios—had you been captured? Was there an emergency?

Finally, he spotted you perched atop a skyscraper, your silhouette against the setting sun. Landing softly beside you, he couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture, an unusual vulnerability that struck him deeply.

"Hey," Homelander's voice was gentle, a rare tenderness reserved only for you. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What's wrong?"

You remained silent for a moment, as if weighing your words carefully. "I... had to do something today," you began slowly, your voice a whisper carried away by the wind. "Something I'm not proud of."

Homelander furrowed his brow, concern etching his features. "What happened?"

You turned to face him then, eyes that usually held the world at bay now reflecting turmoil. "I had to use my powers... to persuade someone," you admitted, your voice laced with regret. "Someone who didn't want to do what I asked."

He understood. Your abilities —persuasion coupled with strength and teleportation—were formidable tools, but they came with a heavy burden. Homelander had seen firsthand the toll it took on you, the weight of manipulating minds for the greater good.

"It's not easy," he said softly, moving closer to you. "But you did what you had to do. Sometimes there are no easy choices."

You shook their head, frustration evident. "That's just it, John. There's always a choice. And today, I took away someone's."

He reached out, tentatively touching your shoulder. "You're not alone in this," he assured you, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his own mind. "We all make mistakes. What matters is what we do next."

For a moment, you simply sat together in silence, the city stretching out before you like a canvas of lights and shadows. Slowly, you felt your walls begin to crumble, the stoic facade giving way to vulnerability.

"I hate feeling like this," you admitted quietly, finally allowing yourself to lean into his embrace. "Weak. Guilty."

"You're not weak," he murmured, holding them close. "You're the strongest person I know. And you don't have to carry this burden alone."

You didn't reply, but the tension in your shoulders eased slightly, a small gesture of acceptance. In that moment, amidst the chaos of your world and the weight of your powers, you found solace in each other's presence—a rare gift in a life filled with complexities and uncertainties.

In that moment, with the weight of your actions heavy on your shoulders, Homelander reached out and gently tilted your chin up, meeting your gaze with unwavering understanding. Without words, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours tenderly yet urgently, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in your struggles. The kiss lingered, bridging the emotional distance between you, offering solace and a promise of support amidst the complexities of being super-powered individuals in a world that often demanded difficult choices.

As the city below continued its relentless pace, Homelander held you tighter, silently promising to be your anchor in the storm, to weather the highs and lows together, no matter what challenges your powers brought.

And in that fleeting moment atop the world, you found a fragile peace—a reminder that even heroes, with all their strengths and flaws, were only human after all.

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 8 months

Text

Another smut excerpt of my Chrollo fic <3 (holding up hypnotism wheel Oh you wanna click that link so bad)

(reader has nen abilities that let other people feel her emotions when touching her)

＊

"Again."

With a pained sigh, you pushed yourself off the grass, ignoring the painful urge to lay back down and rest your aching muscles.

Per your request, you had sacrificed a Saturday of lazing around to pick up training again. With the York New auction steadily approaching, you weren't keen on the possibility of holding the Troupe back with your less than extraordinary combat skills.

Improvements had been made, sure, but most of the members were still so far ahead of you.

And Chrollo was a whole different story.

Saying he was a formidable opponent would have been a crude understatement.

With his acute senses and unparalleled intelligence, he could easily beat you within seconds, as he had multiple times in the past half hour. But adding that to smooth reflexes and years of his own power cultivation meant the defeat was inevitable before stepping into the ring.

Shooting forward, you immediately analyzed his relaxed posture, searching for any areas that might give you an opening. Within seconds, you attempted to analyze his exposed stance, despite recognizing that it was a purposeful tactic.

Like a usually dormant animal, Chrollo never seemed to make the first progression with you, instead waiting for you to strike before mirroring in retaliation.

Arrogance was not an adjective you would use when describing yourself, and stupidly was probably lower on that list. It was obvious that he would be able to overcome you just as easily now as in a situation where he threw the first hit, so you didn't make any negative comments. Besides, you were the one who had asked for his help anyway.

You tensed your hand, lunging forward.

Fatigue had begun to take a toll on your body, making the once agile movements sloppy under the weight of exhaustion. He effortlessly caught your fist, using it as leverage to yank your body past his and effectively tripping you with an outstretched ankle.

With a surprised yelp, you fell to the ground once more, a location that seemed pretty popular for you during these training sessions.

Still encasing your hand, Chrollo positioned your tumble so that the most force would be taken on your back instead of into a face full of dirt. Regardless, the air was jerked from your lungs upon impact. This gave him ample opportunity to guide your arms above your head, efficiently rendering you incapacitated.

He peered down at your form, searching for any hint of unexpected retaliation. Obviously, he found none, having left your limbs useless from his own imprisoning grasp and hours of debilitating exercise.

"And I think that leaves me with another victory. Unless, of course, you're planning to beat me from all the way down there." Not a drop of sweat coated his flawless skin, a physical reminder of his superiority in this realm.

You shot him a glare, squinting in between the splintered rays of sun his form had fractured. It had started to set a few minutes ago, emphasizing the shadows that hid dormant around the desolate field.

"Fuck you."

"Time and place, darling." He quipped, offering you a hand up.

You took it with an irritated scoff, but you couldn't help the spark of warmth his words sent blossoming up into your cheeks.

It had been two weeks since you had fucked Chrollo Lucilfer.

Not that you were counting or anything.

As it turned out, even after years of surviving without the contact you unfortunately lacked, you were quite a sucker for it.

A mere taste of his caress left you with an irritatingly strong craving for more. So many waking minutes were spent wondering if or when he would take your mouth in his again.

Obviously, you weren't going to bring it up. The subject was still new and delicate to you. While completely normal, it was almost as if mentioning it might break some part of the stability you had gained in this relationship, or embarrass you at the very least.

So, you had come to the sullen conclusion to ignore the problem unless he mentioned it. Still, it was impossible to disregard the hollow yearning that grew stronger with every flirtatious comment or innocent brush.

Just as now, when he arms wrapped around your torso to teleport back to the penthouse. The world around you dissolved as usual, objects melting into one another before rebuilding into a completely new location.

The inclination to stay in his grasp was strong, but you forced yourself away, not wanting to slowly ease into the desire that you had tried so hard to overcome. If he took notice, Chrollo didn't show it, offering to begin dinner while you hopped into the shower.

Cold water fell down your body, but it did nothing to quell the itching warmth of your longing. It might've been because you had been deprived of that aspect for so long or maybe because of the blockages, both emotional and material, that you had built.

With a nen ability that transferred your emotions through direct physicality, you had never entertained the notion of enjoying it.

Even if you were strong enough to constantly conjure an output of protective aura, you doubted that you would ever really be able to relax in the presence of another.

Chrollo's individual mastery had been quite the beneficial skill. It not only allowed you to become more lenient in how you approached human contact, but embrace it in some way.

On the other hand, your continual itch for his touch might have been because of how good it was. Obviously, you had nothing in terms of comparison, but fuck, you were getting needy.

With a soft swipe of your arm, the fog was wiped from the mirror, revealing your reflected image. The form looked back at you, no longer smothered in dirt and sweat, but still just as unsatisfied. She dried the dampness from her skin with a plush towel before throwing on a pair of shorts and oversized shirt.

It was one of his.

While he wasn't exceptionally larger in terms of muscle, his height warranted a big enough difference so that fabric fell just above your knees. Even though you had your own pajamas, you had found that his stolen clothes were your favorite type of apparel in terms of comfort.

With your hair cleaned and favorably restyled, you walked out from his bathroom into the living room.

The aroma of miso and simmering garlic met your senses, matching with the soft sizzle of frying butter. You followed the pleasant scent inside the kitchen, meeting Chrollo, who had just finished introducing noodles into the cacophony of flavor.

Watching him cook was something you genuinely enjoyed. He displayed an odd nimbleness between the searing heat of the pan or the fine tip of a cutting knife that would usually have you mesmerized.

However, you were still a bit distracted at the moment, to say the least. Before you knew it, two bowls of steaming umami were being carried over to the table. You ate with sizable gratitude, the hollow emptiness in your stomach from extraneous activity finally filled.

The meal was mostly quiet, most likely because you were the more talkative individual of the two of you. This time, you pushed yourself to ignore the other hankering that had yet to be gratified, instead focusing on the luscious flavor of the broth against your tongue.

And while that strategy might have worked for a while, your self-control crept away as soon as you moved to the couch.

With tentative maneuvering, you allowed yourself to lean into Chrollo, body tensing slightly when he pulled you closer.

The television was turned on, though you weren't exactly sure what was playing. It became a muted buzz as you mentally willed yourself to relax, an endeavor that grew increasingly harder as his hands trailed down to meet yours.

A surprised hum met the muffled silence of the unknown channel and you, curious, offered him a detached murmur of inquisition.

"Nothing." He replied, offered you a small grin. "You're just really turned on right now."

Your eyes shot up.

"What? No, I'm not!" Your sputtering fizzled to silence as he slowly raised your uncovered wrist, still in his grasp. It clicked and your jaw dropped in shock. "You, asshole! What happened to your weirdo constant nen output bullshit?"

"I thought I was making you nervous for some reason so I figured I would check." He chuckled under his breath. "Clearly not."

Heat blossomed up your neck as you snatched your arm from his grasp. "That's cheating!"

He cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Cheating? That's quite an assumption, darling. Besides, you clearly weren't going to say anything."

"Well, you weren't doing anything either." You scoffed, crossing your arms. "I didn't want to bother you with doing something like... ya know, if you didn't want to."

"Didn't want to?" The muscle in your chest began to accelerate as he turned, gently guiding your shoulders back until you were laying flat on the couch. "I've wanted you for months."

"So why didn't you? Say anything, I mean."

"I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Ebony locks perfectly framed every angle of his face as he looked down at you, falling slightly to the left as he tilted his head in inspection. "Of course, I was under the impression that you would've asked for my help."

"I don't..." You shifted underneath him, averting your gaze with an awkward sigh. "I don't like asking for stuff like that. It's embarrassing."

Consideration flit across his face for a moment, only to be replaced moments later with desire. "Well, that works out perfectly then. You won't have to ask."

With a complacent smirk beginning to grace his features, you watched in confusion as leaned forward, warm breath tickling the rim of your ear. You gasped when he lifted his knee, pushing it in between your thighs.

"You're going to beg."

And then his mouth was on your skin.

His kiss traveled from below your ear to past your collarbone. A pleasured sigh was quickly drawn from in between your lips, captured moments later by his own once more.

Goosebumps erupted up your back as his hands slipped under your shirt, ghosting above the curves of your hips before moving up to find your chest, gently beginning to knead the flesh.

Dexterous fingers rolled over your hardened nipple, delivering soft pinches whenever he saw fit. That recognizable, titillating warmth had begun to flare in your abdomen, increasing steadily until the area underneath was throbbing in anticipation. In desperation, you began to unconsciously grind your hips against his knee, relishing in the dull pressure it provided against your clit.

With one final tweak, he changed positions to wrap his arms under your thighs, allowing him to prop you up and efficiently move to his room while keeping his mouth on yours.

After carefully setting you down on the bed, his lips resumed their previous placement on your neck, sucking and biting and creating the marks you were sure would have to be hidden later.

But you didn't care.

Your attention was intently captured on the way he was making you feel, the way he lifted the fabric of your shirt to let his kiss trail between your breasts and down toward your stomach.

His hands playfully rimmed the hem of your shorts, toying with the fabric that blocked his contact from where you needed it most.

"I know how much you hate that part of your nen ability, but in all honesty," He pulled the piece of clothing away. "I quite enjoy feeling how desperate you are for me."

Confusion arose on your face as you watched him fall back, tugging your ankles to pull your body closer to the edge of the bed. "What are you doing?"

Ignoring your question, Chrollo took a knee on the mattress, bending down so he was eye level with your form. You immediately went to close your legs in a feeble attempt at preserving your dignity, but he held you steady.

Silver irises shot up to meet yours. "Eyes on me, darling."

He placed his mouth on your thighs, dangerously close to aching slit, marking the soft flesh before moving back for a moment.

And then he licked straight from your cunt to the tip of nerves above it, gaze trained unwavering on your face the whole time. Your back arched in surprise and you tried to stifle the whine threatening to fall from your throat.

Still, a quiet hum slipped out, tickling Chrollo's acute sense.

Removing his tongue from your skin, he gave you an expression laced in imitated disappointment. "I'm almost certain I mentioned something about staying quiet last time."

'I want to hear you.'

But you offered him a shrug, refusing to entertain his constant teasing. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Oh, I'm happy to help jog your memory. I said," his grasp on your thighs tightened, fingers diving downward to toy with the wetness of your slit. "that I want to hear every pathetic sound that comes from that nasty, little mouth of yours."

"Sorry, doesn't ring a bell." You retorted, trying to remain steady in the wake of his words.

He cocked an eyebrow, obviously unfazed. You simply mirrored the action and he hummed in the feigned displeasure encasing his amusement.

"Such a brat."

Leaning down once more, he encased his lips around your clit.

And then he sucked.

Hard.

The moan that was ripped was nothing less than disgraceful. The sinful noise echoed off through the room, no longer stifled with unmet attempts.

His tongue swirled around the oversensitive bud, pulling similar sounds with each lick.

It wasn't long before your high was advancing, pulling you closer and closer to the brink of euphoria with every oral caress. It was at arms reach, mere moments away from the release you had been neglected of these past weeks.

And then it was gone, sweet bliss yanked between the tips of your fingers as he backed away.

"What... what are you doing?" You breathed, glancing up in shock. The whine was exceptionally pitiful, but you lacked the mind to care, still reeling over the loss of your ever-so-near climax.

"You don't know?" He tilted his head. "I know you had some trouble remembering my words earlier, but I'm sure you can manage to conjure up something more recent."

Bits and pieces about making you beg filtered through your train of thought and you groaned in realization. "Fuck you."

Chrollo chuckled, tone dangerously low. His fingers teased your slit, thumb barely grazing the oversensitive tip. "That's the idea, but I don't think you've earned that yet."

Every whisper of pleasure was pure torture.

Even as he finally began to apply pressure, you knew that it would merely be a tease, offering you the notion of satisfaction just to tear it from your grasp moments later.

He inserted a finger, pumping it in and a few times before following it with another, making sure to keep his thumb trained on your clit.

Already close from before, it didn't take long for you to creep up upon your high. Of course, he was able to tell, well acquainted with the unconscious roll of your hips and the convulsions around his hand that signaled a climax.

It was stolen away from you once more.

Hot tears brimming at the corner of your eyes threatened to overflow, boiling with physical frustration.

Taking notice, he let out a laugh, brushing away one of the droplets with tender mocking. "Aww, did you want to come?"

"Please." You breathed, taking notice of the cruel glee lacing his expression.

"Oh, come on." He pushed a strand of stray hair behind your ear. The gesture seemed loving, but his tone reeked of imitated sympathy. "I know you can do better than that."

"Please." You repeated, a little louder this time, even though it came out sounding just as pathetic. "Fuck, I'll do anything, just please."

He removed his other hand from your thigh to undo the strings of his sweatpants. "Please, what, darling? You're going to have to be more specific."

Embarrassment pushed into the forefront of your mind, but it was nothing in comparison to the burning need already present.

You averted your line of sight, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Please let me come."

The statement was flustered and quick, something much too humiliating to admit at a normal volume. Still, warmth blossomed up your neck as it was quietly sputtered.

Tipping your chin gently with the tip of his finger, he forced your gaze to meet his. "Now that wasn't too hard, was it, love?"

Aligning himself at your entrance, he pushed forward in a way that set every nerve in your body on fire.

He started to roll his hips into yours at a steady pace and you groaned at the delectable pressure, fingers curling into the silk sheets that had once been so pristinely organized.

But just as you were, they had turned into a mess, undone easily in the hands of another.

Chrollo's thumb found your clit once more, circling around it in a tortuously slow rotation. The prickling heat in your core sparked brightly with every thrust. His previously established rhythm had started to accelerate, leaving you a puddle of desire.

Bliss had clouded over your vision, infiltrating your train of thought until there was nothing left but pure lust. The soft throb in between your thighs had also begun to quicken, matching the speeding drum of the muscle against the walls of your chest.

Some part of you, most likely the perceptive fragment left, took notice of it. "I... I'm gonna-" The rest of your statement fizzled away into a broken moan.

"I know, darling, go ahead." By the soft rasp in his voice, you were almost certain he might have been close too.

Your climax was merely a whisper away, taunting you with its cruel pleasure. It filled you to the brim, bursting at the seams and threatening to spill over.

Ecstasy shot through your body, flooding over your conscious mind in a way that your legs shaking. A sharp cry was torn from your throat as you arched into the euphoria.

Gently helping you down from your high, Chrollo continued, finding his own soon after with his hands still wrapped around your hips. He gave them a soft squeeze, carefully pulling out and picking you up to continue the same route he had the night of your first time.

Prior exhaustion seemed to have crept back. The hot bath water felt all the more delightful against your skin, soothing the sore muscles between bubbles that smelled of lavender and vanilla.

Chrollo's loving praises and soft caress filtered through the aromatic foam. You watched as he turned away to grab a towel and another shirt, still his.

"Thank you." You murmured, taking his hand out of the tub.

"Of course, my love." Brushing the wet hair away past your ear, he placed a soft kiss upon your temple with a smile. "Always."

#chrollo lucifer x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh #hunter x hunter

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