Right Around The Corner - Azriel

Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

-

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands. 

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush. 

-

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

-

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

-

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

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Somebody else

Hyunjin x reader. Exes to lovers. Miscommunication. Hints of past toxic relationships. Flawed characters and happy ending :)

Inspired from Somebody Else by The 1975, highly recommend listening to it while reading!

You and Hyunjin have broken up, guilt and blame simmering between you both. He doesn't care anymore, or so he thought. Then why does it hurt him to see you with someone else?

skz song series masterlist.

Strobing lights, vibrant streaks of blue and red ricocheting off your skin. Bodies pressed to yours, trying to fray themselves a passage to dance in. Someone bumps onto your shoulder but you don't care enough to even glance at them. Your eyes are fixated on Hyunjin.

You broke up two weeks ago, you don't even remember why. Petty arguments and even pettier reactions from both of you, your egos holding you back from saying what you truly feel. 

You hated arguments, especially with him. Because they reminded you of how much you cared for him, immensely so, how you regarded him as a part of your soul, one you couldn't part with. The mere thought of his departure left you feeling like a seashell washed ashore- hollow and condemned to echo the sounds of the ocean it was forcibly separated from. 

So, in the heat of the moment, you let anger pull you in her fiery hold- she's all encompassing, wrapping around you like a steel shield, making you less vulnerable in Hyunjin’s hands. But she also clouds your senses, and you find yourself uttering stupid nonsense, such as ‘Maybe we should break up’.

You’ve never thought about it, let alone wanted to end things with him. You wanted to take those words back as soon as you said them, to rewind the seconds and erase them from both of your memories. But then Hyunjin agreed, so easily, as if he was eagerly awaiting the bait you just threw at him. 'You know what? Maybe we should' and he left, slamming the door of your apartment. 

You stayed up all night, waiting for him to come back. He knew you didn't mean it, right? Surely, he understood that it was your feeble attempt to guard your wounded heart. It's been stomped on carelessly, thrown around enough that he must know you were just afraid.

But you haven’t seen him since.

And now you're both here, at the party that Changbin organized. He's your mutual friend and he insisted that you'd come as well. "Binnie, I don't want to."

"You both are just idiots who'll get back together. You’re coming," he silenced you, and you sulked in your place. But his words ignited something in you- a childish hope, that maybe he was right and Hyunjin still cared about you.

But all of it was shattered as you set foot inside Changbin’s house. It was easy to find Hyunjin, sitting in the middle of a couch, legs slightly spread apart. He was wearing a white shirt, its top buttons undone. You watched as he easily captured the attention of everyone around him, as they hung into his every word, admiring him. That's the thing with Hyunjin, it's easy to admire him, to crave being near him, because he's enchanting, and his laugh makes you want to make him happy ten times fold.  

You scoff bitterly, as someone places their hand on his arm and he doesn't move them away. He leans onto their touch and a surge of bile rises in your throat. Perhaps this is what you fought about- anger that cowardly hid behind it your insecurity at dating someone so sought after. It was foolish after all, to believe that the sun would get attached to a mere speck of light.

"You're here alone?" a voice interrupts your train of thought, and you turn around to find Chan. You smile at the familiar face, a welcome respite from the dull ache settling in your heart, making itself a home within your veins. 

"Our friends are all over the place," you explain, and he nods in understanding. "Changbin made me come but I don't know where he is," he whines, leaning closer to your ear so you could hear him over the pulsating music. 

"So, we're all here because of Bin?" you giggle and Chan's laugh fills the air, his dimples proudly on display. There was this comforting aura surrounding him, which made it much easier to breathe in his presence. And you needed to feel safe somewhere at this party, where all you saw were glimpses of Hyunjin and the hurt he inflicted on you. 

"Do you want to dance?" you ask, and Chan's grin widens in response, so you grab his forearm leading him to the makeshift dance floor.

Hyunjin silently watches as you and Chan dance with one another. He can’t see you properly, hidden by the swarms of bodies pressed together. But he gets glimpses of you each time someone moves a bit away. You appear to him like a mirage- something he once had and yet so unattainable right now.

I don’t want your body, but I hate to think about you with somebody else

Hyunjin is fine with the fact that you left him, that’s what he tells himself as he downs his drink. He’s used to people leaving after some time when he’s no longer enough. He did think that maybe things with you would be different, that for once, someone would stay. That you would shatter this idea ingrained in his mind- that he’s easily disposable, as someone told him a long time ago.

But you wished to leave him too, and for the first time in his life, Hyunjin wanted to beg someone to stay. He thought of pulling you in for a dizzying kiss, so you’d second-guess your decision, so he’d show you that he’s still good at something. But he swallowed this pathetic want and he left.

He walked slowly, thinking that maybe you’d follow him. You’d shout his name and then he’d turn back and run towards you. He’d throw his pride over his shoulder and he’d apologize.

But you didn’t.

So, he’s okay with it, or at least that’s what he thought. He doesn’t want you anymore. So why does it hurt to watch you with Chan?

Our love has gone cold you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else

An ugly thought rears itself into his brain. You’ve liked Chan long before you broke up with Hyunjin. Maybe the time you've spent with Chan, working on your musical project made your heart gravitate towards him, and you were simply awaiting the right moment to end things with Hyunjin. That’s why you’re smiling so effortlessly at Chan. That’s why he’s spinning you around, and holding your arm to move you away from a drunk couple.

Hyunjin lost you before he realized he lost you. Maybe when he laid next to you in bed you were thinking of Chan. Maybe it was his touch you longed for whenever Hyunjin hugged you. You wouldn’t be the first to do this to him. 

I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else

You’re laughing hard, and your hand is on Chan’s shoulder as he steadies you. But then you look up and your eyes lock with Hyunjin’s. He can only watch as the happiness slowly drains from your face, as you whisper something into Chan’s ear who then leads you outside. 

Hyunjin's heart sinks in his chest- he couldn't recognize you anymore, the affection once present in your eyes diluted to a mere semblance of indifference. And you still looked so beautiful to him, despite it all. He felt as if you were stabbing him with a rusty knife, and yet all he focused on was how soft your hands looked holding the bloody blade. 

Hyunjin gets up to pour himself another drink, shrugging away the hand of the person who was sitting next to him. He doesn’t want you anymore, he doesn't care that you're probably kissing Chan right now. But he secretly hopes that if he drinks enough, the faces all around him will blur until all he sees again is you.

No don’t want your body but I’m picturing your body with somebody else

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, his voice soft and concerned as you draw in a deep, shuddering breath. It feels as if there was no room in your heart anymore for oxygen, the ache for Hyunjin taking it all up.

"Is it bad that I miss him so much?" you ask, your voice sounding frail to your ears. 

"He misses you too. You know that, right?"

"He left, so easily. I don't think he does after all," you smile sadly. It hurt to utter those words out loud, because it made them feel much more real, intensifying the raw pain within you. 

"I’ve never seen him look so sad before," Chan points out and you know he's just trying to help, but it just further tears you apart. You don't want false hope, you don't want to build yourself a world where Hyunjin still wants you, only for it to be shattered afterward. 

"Can we talk about something else?" you plead and he nods, before sharing with you the ropes of his latest project. He's working on a ballad for once, and you listen attentively, allowing yourself to be absorbed in the intricacies he describes. It provides you a temporary solace, which then makes a frightening thought dawn on you. 

Is this how it will be from now on? Seeking distractions from the people surrounding you, in the hopes it will quest the thirst of the ache threatening to drown you? 

Oh, come on baby, this ain't the last time that I’ll see your face

"Yn!" Hyunjin calls out, breathless, watching you abruptly stop in your tracks. It's foolish and pathetic, but he couldn't resist following you when you bid goodbye to Chan. He was sick of the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his head. He wanted to hear them from you. It'd make accepting them easier.

"Leave me alone," you shout back, walking even faster and away from him.

"Fine, leave again. That's all you fucking do anyways," he yells angrily, frustration seeping into his words. It makes you pause once again, and you suck in a deep breath before marching back to him. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Chan? Out of all people?" he scoffs, ignoring your question. That's the only thing he kept thinking of. You and Chan, laughing, talking, dancing, the way you used to with him.

And come on baby, you said you found someone to take my place

"Fuck you Hyunjin," you spit out, turning around but he stops you, a hand wrapped around your forearm. Despite the anger cursing through him, his hold on you is still gentle. You can free yourself from him, easily.

"So, it's true, then? You replaced me with him?" Fresh pain swims in his eyes, and he makes no attempt to conceal it anymore. He was tired of pretending he was okay with you leaving.

"What is it to you, huh? You left me," you shout back, jabbing your finger forcefully into his chest. 

"I left? You're the one who said that it'd be better if we broke up!"

"It's not like you disagreed, huh? You probably felt so relieved that I handed you this outing, didn't you Hyunjin?" 

"Don't twist this on me," he says firmly, gripping your finger to halt your repetitive jabs. "Am I that easy to forget? Did I matter this little to you?" He questions, voice cracking with his every word. 

"Let me go," you plead, tears brimming in your waterline. 

"Answer me. That's the least you could do for me. I need to hear it from you." Hyunjin has never been this unguarded with you, searching your eyes with an intensity that shakes you to the core. He's asking and yet it feels as if he's just expecting you to say yes, to reiterate the idea drilled into his mind, to prove everybody right once again. 

"I didn't forget about you, is this what you want to hear?" you whisper, voice laced with excruciating exhaustion. "You're all I thought about for the last two weeks. I heard your voice in my mind more than my own. I even kept your opened drink in my fridge just in case you might come back for it." 

"You're killing me, yn," he shuts his eyes closed forcefully, as if your words physically pained him. "Didn't you tell me that we should break up?" 

"You don't understand," you shake your head, a bitter chuckle leaving you. "Everyone loves you Hyunjin. Everyone would fight to be with you. You must know it, and it's dangerous when someone knows they can easily replace you. I have no one to protect me so I tried to protect myself. I didn't think I’ll survive if you left me too."

"Everyone loves me?" he repeats, as a newfound emotion shines in his eyes. "Are you in this everyone too? Do you love me, yn?" his voice wavers, as the weight of his question hangs in the air. 

You feel as if the world around you stills, holding its breath for your response. You know that any possible future with Hyunjin rests upon the words you'll choose to speak. You already know the answer, even though you decided to not tell him. Out of all the emotions you've ever experienced, love still scares you the most. And you're afraid of what your confession will entail, of tipping the balance towards a crueler reality- one where Hyunjin doesn't return your feelings. 

"Please let me go," you beg, as a singular tear trails out of your eyes. 

"Look at me," he urges, desperation lacing his words. But you shake your head, unable to meet his gaze, afraid that he will peel all your defenses with it. "Baby, look at me," he calls softly, as he gently wipes away your tears. The nickname sounds so familiar coming from his lips, and it further crumbles your shaky resolve.

"Don't call me that if you're leaving, please," you beg and he smiles softly at you, hooking a finger under your shin.

"Can't you see I'm too in love with you to go again?" he whispers, the tenderness in his voice washing over you, casting a flicker of hope into your heart. 

"I'm scared too," he speaks again, placing your hand on top of his widely beating heart. "I'm scared and so tired, yn. Of feeling disposable to everyone around me. When you... When you told me it'd be best if we broke up, it felt worse than anyone leaving me before. Because it was you. And I really wanted you to stay." 

"I didn't mean it, I never thought of it even, I promise you. I'm so sorry." The words tumble from your lips in a rush, an earnest attempt to keep the hope alive, to prevent it from withering down. "Please stay. I love you, I truly do," you plead, no longer caring how vulnerable you sound in that instant. You curl your hand around his, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing them gently. And you feel as if the universe exhales in relief, resuming its usual course. 

"I never wanted to leave either. And when I saw you with Chan I thought I lost you for good," his voice is softer now, as if embarrassed of his own admission. "It hurt, more than I imagined it would." 

You press your forehead against his, closing your eyes to relish in the feeling of being so close to him once again. 

"Really?" you tease gently, a glimmer of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "You looked perfectly fine to me."

"What do you even know,” he mutters quietly, before pressing his soft lips onto yours.

the premise: ur reaction to hyunjin's new short purple hair. this is very self indulgent and silly and fluffy and im mad at this man for being so pretty (i love him so much)

"are your eyes closed?" hyunjin's voice echoes from behind the door, as you lie on your stomach upon the bed.

"they are!" you yell back, palms pressing tightly against your eyelids. "can you hurry, i miss the light."

"you are so dramatic," hyunjin giggles, and you can vividly imagine him, head tipped back, a fond smile etched on his face—the one he reserves just for you. it sends a tingling warmth through your spine; you've come to learn hyunjin through these past three years, you can now clearly envision him, even behind your darkened eyelids, picturing every mimic of his as if he's right before you.

"save me boyfriend with pretty brown eyes, save me!"

"just a few more seconds baby, i promise," he quickly reassures, and you bite your lip slightly. you know he must be running his hands through his hair, trying to tame the stubborn strands you love to tuck behind his ear. a slight nervous shake in his limbs as he assesses himself in the enormous vanity mirror in your room. hyunjin knows he's good looking, it would be idiotic of him to believe otherwise. but it is always after significant changes in his appearance that he becomes almost shier, as if adjusting to the person reflecting back in the mirror.

"you're really pretty, you know that, right?" you speak softly.

"you didn't even see me yet," a smile is latched onto his words, making them ring sweetly in your ears.

"i don't need to. i think you are physically incapable of being ugly. beauty just oozes from each one of your features."

"okay, you can look now because i need to kiss you before i pass out," he sighs and you laugh before swiftly pulling your hands away from your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the stream of light coursing through your pupils. and then, your gaze locks on hyunjin.

his hair is short again. deep purple reflections dancing underneath the silver light of your bedroom.

you blink.

his hair is still short. and purple.

you blink again.

"are you... malfunctioning?" he chuckles, eyes disappearing into moon crescents.

"holy shit," you whisper, scrambling to the edge of the bed where he's standing, fidgeting from one leg to another. you quickly stand on the mattress so you can tower over him, turning his head to the left, then right.

"you cut your hair," you whisper in wonder.

"i did. do you like it?"

"do. i. like. it?" you repeat incredulously, running your fingers through his silky threads. "i prayed for this day to come, you don't understand," you beam at him, wrapping your hand around his neck, his hands find the slate of your waist, pressing you closer to him.

"did you now, love?"

"you're so pretty. i hate you," you sigh, tugging at his strands in wonder, admiring the rich color that's dancing off his hair.

"that sounds contradictory," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. you bite his arm in response. he yelps loudly in true hyunjin fashion.

"you're actually so gorgeous it maddens me. how are you real," you pinch his cheek slightly, and he only screeches louder. "how are you mine?" you add, poking his nose, and he wraps an arm around your midriff, before throwing you back into the bed, this time hovering over you.

"because you're you, so i can't be anything but yours."

"give me a minute," you sigh, closing your eyes. "i can't handle your words and your hair at the same time."

"you're an idiot," he laughs, and it sounds so genuine, a barely concealed 'thank you' peeking behind the syllables, as he buries his head in your neck. you can't help but smile in response.

"let me look at you," you cradle his face between your hands, your noses brushing against one another. your gaze turns serious as you drink in each feature of his. you love his long hair, love running your hands through it and braiding his locks before you sleep. but his short hair makes his features more prominent, undisturbed by stray strands that never want to remain in place.

you can feel his cheeks warm up underneath your touch, his gaze growing shier under your scrutinization, his head tilting to the side, pressing further onto your palm. nothing about your love has changed, even after three years of dating.

"you really like it?" he asks, tone quiet, lips brushing against your own, velvet meeting velvet.

"i do," you whisper, before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "you know what's insane about you?"

"do tell," he smiles, bopping his nose against your own.

"your face is so goddamn pretty, and yet, it is the least beautiful thing about you."

"i know," he smiles, pecking your cheek, then your wrist in a tenderness that makes your heart drop to your knees. "you're the most beautiful part of me."

✿ ✿ 〞kisses to his moles

✰ pairings: bf!mingyu x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, fluff, flirting, soft moments

✰ warnings: kissing ( lots of it ), soft hours, flirting

✰ word count: 885 words

mingyu didn’t notice it at first. he didn’t notice that whenever you kissed him, the first place you would kiss him was his nose. you would leave light feathery kisses on his nose and in return he would scrunch up his nose and give you a toothy grin. he would usually just pull you in and in return, pepper your face with gentle kisses.

your ear stays planted against mingyu’s chest while yours hands are entangled around his body. with every breath he releases to every little giggle that escapes his mouth, you capture it all. mingyu’s eyes remain locked onto his phone where he watches his favourite show, but his hands stay near you. or to be precise, twirling and playing with the strands of your hair.

you trace patterns on his chest and you weren’t surprised when you heard a soft laugh from him, “that tickles babe.”

“does it?” you tease and move your fingers to his neck threateningly. your eyes meet with his and you see the look of defeat followed by a look of desperacy, as if telling you to spare him. so you do.

“you know i read something earlier,” you mutter and place your legs over his.

“yeah?” he hummed and looked at you curiously, the show still plays on his phone but his attention is no longer on it. “what did you read?”

you grab his face in your hands and move his head both sides before touching his left cheek. a place above his jaw where there was a spot, a mole to be exact.

mingyu’s eyes followed your actions and his eyes softened when you leaned ahead to kiss his mole. your lips stay glued to his skin for a few seconds before you pull away. your fingers touch the spot and he shudders at the coldness of your fingertips.

your eyes shift to his nose and you trace the mole along there as well. he sighed in content when you placed more kisses on his moles. his hand moved down your waist to steady you as he watched you lean back in satisfaction.

“had fun then?” he whispered with a knowing smile as he tucks the strand of hair behind your ear.

you rolled your eyes at his words and replied, “i suppose i did. you know these moles? i read that these are the places where your lover from your previous life had kissed you the most.”

“what if that lover wasn’t me?” you voice out your thoughts and he chuckles in amusement.

“well then you’re here now to make new ones,” he muttered and turned his head towards the other side so that the right side of his cheek was facing you. you lifted your upper body up and grabbed the collar of his shirt before pressing your lips near his ear.

the kiss sent tingles down his spine which led to the appearance of goosebumps as you smiled against his skin.

you pulled back in satisfaction and traced the area where you left a kiss. there was nothing right now but your love.

“don’t worry, it will become a mole in my next life right?” he teased and dodged away when you pretended to smack his head.

“it’s interesting although. i like this theory,” he says louder than before and you fight back a smile by resting your hands around his neck. “it’s my turn now!”

you squeal in surprise when he ran his fingers across your cheek, presumably where there was a mole and pressed his lips over there. he did that thrice before he pressed his forehead against yours and smiled warmly.

“you,” a kiss on the temple.

“are,” a kiss on your nose.

“the,” a kiss on your lips that lasts the longest.

“only,” a kiss on your jaw.

“one,” a kiss on your left cheek.

“i promise,” he mutters with his lips grazing your ear.

you let out a hearty laugh when his breath fans over your neck, tickling you.

“i love you so much okay? no matter who my past was. you are my present and i hope that you will be my future as well,” he reassured, smiling down at you and brushing his nose against yours.

you ruffle his hair fondly and whisper, “i wish the very same too, my love.”

with the passing second, his lips find their way back to your skin as he pulls you in deeper complaining how you were far away from his reach.

“aren’t you tired of kissing me?” you question.

“i could never be. kissing you is a habit that i don’t even plan on getting rid of. in fact it’s one of my best habits.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you scoff at his words and look away from him. his gaze no matter how loving, never fails to not make you nervous.

the fact that he knows it so well makes you want to control yourself around him but you can’t. especially not when he looks at you as if you’re the only one.

he knows the effect he has on you. he knows the little gestures of his never fails to make your heart pump a bit quicker. he knows that the tender kisses has your lips curling up in seconds. he knows it all so well.

01. sharing a bed series ; skz ; chan

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 1/8. because it's the cheesiest most classic trope and it's FUN. -

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. chan's baby girl agenda. accidental boners, horny embarrassed reader. chan is a tease n a dork. :)

-

You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour.   Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch.   Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming.   He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.  

He must have been tired tonight.  His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the flickering lights of his computer station.  Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him.  He is so sound asleep that he didn’t hear your gentle knocks. 

You feel bad for disturbing him now.   Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.

You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you.  Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Baby girl?  That you?” 

Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine. 

You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself.   Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark.  He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper.  “You sleep.  It’s fine.” 

His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes.  His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline.  You quickly look away from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes.  He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.  

“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy. 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway. 

He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you.  All at once his face goes slack with realization.  A smile pushes at his dimples. 

“Right,” he says.  “The couch sucks, yeah?  Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh.  “It’s your bed.” 

“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.” 

You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart.  As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight.  Your heart skips a beat.  

“All right,” he says.  “No worries.  Big bed.  You wanna share?” 

It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in. 

When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.

“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says.  “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”

Your eyes drop again.  The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundantly clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers.   You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body. 

He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed.  The sheet slips smoothly off his body.

You spin around to give him some privacy.  This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it. 

He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser.  You know you shouldn’t stare but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed.   You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips.  He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute. 

“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now.  Come on.” 

He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you.  He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest, horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed.  You try not to think about how he was naked between these sheets just moments ago.  

Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself.  You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly.  So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment. 

“Mhm,” you lie.  Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers. 

“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed.   You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest.   “Better?” he asks.

“Mmmhf.”

It requires some manoeuvring, but you do get semi-comfortable.  It is difficult to feel completely at ease when you are also lit up like a firework, very aware of all the places your body is touching his.   Your faces are close, your hand on his chest, his hand on your hip.  And something else is uncomfortably lodged between your lower halves—

Your mouth rushes ahead of your brain and you say, “Wait, what’s that?” 

As if you think he dropped something in the bed between you. 

As if that could be anything but his dick.   

His startled expression speaks volumes.  His nervous, flustered laugh says even more.  You have to physically restrain yourself from digging a hole through the bed to die inside. 

In your marginal defense, why would you expect Chan to be sporting a semi for no apparent reason?   Your shorts are pretty short and you have nothing on under your little tank top, but what sort of crazy wishful thinking is that?  That Chan reciprocates all your horny pining? 

You suppose there is some hard evidence.   So to speak. 

“Sorry,” he says, his hand lifting away from your waist.  “I didn’t, uh, sorry, wanna make you feel—”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you say quickly.  You feel so, so hot, and you aren’t sure if it’s embarrassment or desire.   At any rate, it makes you even stupider.  “It’s all good,” you say.  “I like it!”

I like it??? 

He is clearly computing that, looking more confused than embarrassed now. 

“You… like it,” he says slowly. 

“What I mean by that,” you say, “is that I… like… it.”  Nice recovery.

“I see.”  He looks amused now, his dimples deepening.  “That clarifies things.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Any time.” 

“You look a little embarrassed,” he says, touching your chin to tilt your face up to his.  It forces you to look directly at him as he studies your expression.  His intensity makes thinking of a response impossible.  He smiles all-too knowingly at you.  “C’mon,” he says, his voice a little lower. “It’s just me, baby girl.  You don’t have to be shy.”   

Uh oh, you think, looking at his alarmingly competent smoulder, Chan might be secretly evil.   

Maybe not secretly.  And maybe too affectionate to be pure evil.   But he holds your chin and guides your face, turning it away so he can kiss your cheek.  Your eyes close and you fight a moan, because moaning at a cheek peck would just be ridiculous. 

Then he kisses a spot a little lower on your jaw, then below your ear.  His tongue flicks at the shell of your ear at the same time his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip again.   You let yourself moan this time, a sweet little hum that he returns when you press yourself closer to him.  You feel his dick twitch in his boxers, practically demanding your attention.  You let your hand drift downward. 

“Can’t believe you’re secretly evil,” you murmur, making him laugh.  “Don’t laugh.  You are.  I hate you.” 

“Really?” he says, with all the cockiness of a man who already knows the answer.   He doesn’t wait for it, his hand swiftly moving to cup you between your legs.  His knuckle rubs softly against your pussy, so hot and wet that he can undoubtedly feel it through the fabric.   “Sorry, baby,” he says, very unserious, “but I don’t think all of you hates me.”  

“Mean, mean, mean—”

He can’t help but giggle at you, somewhat juxtaposed to the way he is rubbing you through your clothes. 

“Damn,” he says, a breathy sound.  You are panting against his open mouth already.  “Need it bad, don’t you, baby?  Who did this to you?”

“Some mean tease,” you say.  “Been into him all this time and he never did a thing.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

“Mhm.”

“His loss.” 

You both have a stupid little giggle before you finally touch him in return.   His breath catches.  

Your mouths are close, so close that it makes your clit throb under his knuckle, so close that he is straining the material of his boxers.   His hand jumps up, leaving you torturously bereft, but then he slides that hand into your shorts to touch you directly.  He kisses you at the same time, swallowing down all your sweet sounds as he licks into your mouth.  

“I got you,” he says, a lovely sentiment that is followed by a very hot, filthy lick into your mouth.  He moans into it, then kisses you nicely. “I always got you.”

Your hand stutters to a stop because he has you close, so close, so quickly.  Your orgasm washes over you with unexpected swiftness, your whole body arching against his as you come.   

“That’s it,” he says, his hand steady as he brings you over.  “That’s my girl.  Got you.”    

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.  You think about all those cozy nights you spent snuggled up in this spot, the way Chan worries about you no matter what you say, his thoughtfulness and attentiveness and protectiveness. 

I got you. 

Knowing it’s true, you smile and kiss his smile in return.    

[9:23pm] chan grinned at your lying body that was currently splayed out on the floor.

visiting australia with your ever so handsome boyfriend had it's perks, but damn, you weren't used to the heat.

consistent, heavy and unmerciful, barely cooling even at night time.

he couldn't help but laugh as you groaned dramatically into the carpet beneath you.

"i think i'm melting," you breathed out, a cheek pressed against the carpet as you splayed out like a starfish. he chuckled uncontrollably and made his way over to you.

"it's not that bad," he teased, angling a fan in your direction which only really blew hot air in your face.

"not bad enough to resist my cuddles?" he said, and before you had time to react, he spooned you from behind and attacked your neck with kisses.

"stoppp! you're sweatyyy" you groaned and tried to wriggle out of his strong grasp but he wasn't having it, giggling like a child in your ear as he snuggled closer to you.

and finally you gave up, relaxing in his grasp, exasperated.

"you're lucky i love you enough to stand this heat," you grumbled and pouted, crossing your arms, "and your cuddles at the same time."

he had a massive smile resting on his face. the air of the fan whisked over your bodies in a peaceful sort of way.

"i appreciate you. you know that right?" he mumbled in your ear, kissing your temple. "for being here, for supporting me, for loving me."

"yeah i know," you leaned a bit closer to his body, despite being sweaty yourself. you didn't feel that it mattered anymore.

"i will love you in sickness and in health," you said dramatically, "in summer and in winter! in heat and in snow!"

"well it's good to know no matter what season, we'll be cuddling like this. no conditions can tear us apart," he said assertively, and you rolled your eyes, a part of you feeling as though you were being cuddled against your will. but the other half, the stronger half, made no effort to move away.

"whatever you say, baby."

you melted into his touch.

skz taglist: @hearts4sungie, @alyszaen, @a-wandering-stay, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @minnysproutgriffinteddy, @junebug032 (let me know if you want to be added or removed)