#well I suppose not so much the second one but it still features both of them and food

[quibbs126]

All these images just makes me think that Gingerbrave and Dark Choco are grocery shopping buddies

#well I suppose not so much the second one but it still features both of them and food #but regardless I think that’d be cute #they just meet up to buy stuff at the grocery store #I imagine Dark Choco just offers to carry all the groceries #regardless I think they’d both have a good time #one of the few people Dark Choco has friendly interactions with #cookie run #dark choco cookie #gingerbrave #official art #headcanons #random stuff

[anemptypuddingcup]

Breaking on me.

Luffy x Female Reader.

Destressing Smut Fic.

This was supposed to be way shorter but I ended getting carried away and saying “fuck it why not.” I’ve been stressed out with medical issues and issues with people in general. Writing this fic was definitely a good destresser for me and I’m happy to be writing for my rubber man again.

Contains: Reader is very stressed in this fic. Luffy wanting to make Reader feel better. Reader breaking down on Luffy. Luffy comforting Reader before helping relieve her stress. Shibari. Luffy tearing the ropes. Luffy using a bit of gear second and haki for Reader. Starts smut off w riding. Missionary to Mating press. Luffy definitely cream-pies Reader. Fingering & Pussy eating afterwards. Overstimulation. Luffy trying his best to comfort Reader.

Luffy stared at you blankly from across the room, his beautiful beady eyes staring up and down your body as he observed you for a moment. He could tell that you were stressed, both physically and mentally. As someone who endures and puts up with his shit for so long, part of him wonders just how much you can take before you end up breaking into pieces like fine china.

He could tell by your body language and facial expressions that you were drained or at least tired. Whatever it was that was making you feel this way, Luffy hoped that he could try and help you with it in any way he can.

Your eyes flicker up at him and you quirk a brow before turning a page and continuing to read.

“Why’re you staring at me like that Luffy? Is something wrong?” You asked, peeking up from your book to look at him who was still staring at you. Luffy hums out and presses his hand to his chin, a soft sigh leaving him as he stared at you even longer. “Is sum botherin’ ya?” He asked bluntly, making you freeze while your brows raise from slight shock in response. You chuckled before continuing back to your book, your eyes now trying to find the sentence that you had just left seconds ago.

“No Luffy, nothing is bothering me.” You say flatly, still skimming through your book and looking for that damned sentence that your eyes had lost. Luffy huffs and pouts at you before standing up from his seat, his sandals sliding along the tile as he walks over to you. He crouches down in front of you and presses his fingers against your book before slowly pushing it down and away from your sight.

“Luffy! Why’d you do that? I’m trying to find my-“

“You sure you ain’ lyin’ to me?”

You flinch in surprise at his question before staring down into his pouting face, his features showing the slightest sign of worry. You look away before nodding, giving him your signature heartwarming smile. “Yes I promise Luffy. I’m just fine. If I wasn’t…well…I probably would’ve told you already…” You say, your tone shifting a bit as if you were struggling to speak in the same cheery tone you were speaking in moments before.

Luffy presses his hand to his chin before smiling, his body steadily rising back up to his feet before he moves in closer to you. He presses a loving smooch to your lips before peppering one to your temple while his fingers played around in your strands. “Jus’ wanna make sure…I jus’ want my baby gal to be alright.” He says softly to you as he pulls away. He waves before walking out of the aquarium bar, his hand slowly pulling the door behind himself and closing it.

His voice was muffled by the door as you heard him calling out for Sanji to make him some snacks, a few of your other crew mates voices following shortly after.

You sigh out shakily and set your book down to the side, your mind running rampant with negativity as you felt your heart pounding out of your chest. Your eyes felt as if they wanted to shed tears, to let out all of that emotion that you had bottled up deep inside of your chest and stomach. It was hard to deal with stress, especially since usually this was a stress-free zone most of the time.

You couldn’t tell if it was anxiety of sailing the seas or what, but you certainly did not like having this heavy weight to carry on your smaller shoulders.

Most of the crew haven’t noticed your behavior but the one who always noticed was Luffy. He was the closest to you, so of course he would be the one to notice if something was off with you. Luffy always noticed what was wrong with his friends and you were no exception. Even if you got different treatment compared to everyone else and even if you were considered a loving partner to him, he will always be willing to help you with your issues no matter if they’re physical, emotional or mental.

You sigh out shakily before standing up from your seat, sucking up all of the broken emotions and putting on a happy face before walking out of the aquarium to head into the kitchen.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Luffy sat there alone out on the soft grass of the deck, his eyes staring up at the darkened night sky as he thought to himself while watching the pretty stars glimmer. You and him decided to keep watch on the ship for the night, allowing both you and him to have some type of alone time on the ship while everyone else got to explore a bit more and get some fresh air on the current island they stopped by.

Both you and Luffy had already went out and got what you wanted before getting back on which is why Luffy was sitting there thinking to himself. He looks over the stairs and towards the kitchen door, the sound of you cooking inside the kitchen faint while the sound of the ocean waves was louder and filled his ears more.

You were in the kitchen fixing yourself up a small snack before you decided to walk back to the library to find a new book to read for the night. Luffy sits up and smirks to himself before rushing upstairs and into the men’s bedroom, his head peeking out a moment before he ran down along the floorboards and over to the bedroom door. He opens the door and walks in, his eyes glancing over to his cot before he rushes over to it.

He gets a hold of his grocery bag that he grabbed off the island and pulls out a bundle of red rope before giggling to himself. He stood there and thought to himself before smirking, his feet slowly tiptoeing back to the door before he peeks his head out. He peers around and slowly walks out, his hand slowly closing the door behind himself before he begins to head downstairs to the women’s bedroom.

He opens the door and slowly steps in, his hand closing the door behind himself before he rushes over to your bed. He flops down onto your bed and inhales your scent, a soft mewl leaving him while he relished in your scent and wrinkled up your quilt. “She smells s’fuckin’ good, she always does~” He sighs out lovingly as he slides down off of your bed and onto his two feet.

He stands up straight and pulls all of his clothes off onto the floor before sliding off his sandals, staring at the red rope as he questioned if his little brain could remember to tie himself up right. He hums out to himself before shrugging his shoulders and going with the flow, tying up his arms and legs alongside the rest of his body.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

You yawned as you walked out of the kitchen, a sigh leaving your lips as you settled on just going to bed for the night. You look down towards the deck and noticed that Luffy wasn’t there anymore. You scratched your head and raise a brow, a sigh leaving your lips as you prayed to god himself that your boyfriend didn’t go missing again. You slowly walked up to the men’s bedroom and opened the door before stopping in place, your eyes landing on Luffy’s cot before you realized that he wasn’t in it.

You quickly rushed to the women’s bedroom to grab your sandals, parts of your mind running rampant as worry and fear for your boyfriend’s safety begins to spread throughout your body.

You bursted through the door and sighed out before looking up, your eyes widening as they fell onto Luffy’s body which seemed to be tied up and naked on your bed. His body was indeed naked and covered in red rope, his arms were tied together behind his back. “Baby! There ya are! What took ya s’long!?” Luffy beamed, his arms tied tight behind his as he sat there up and got up on his knees.

You stared at him for a moment before realizing that Luffy probably tangled himself up in some rope. Though- Wait- Why was he even in the women’s bedroom and on your bed in the first place? You looked around before looking back to him, his lips curling up into a beaming smile as you stood there a little dumbfounded.

“Luffy…What happened? Are you okay?” You asked, your legs slowly walking over to him before you gripped the ropes that squeezed his body. Luffy groans out slightly before watching as you struggled to pull and loosen the ropes round his body which makes him being to panic a bit.

“W-W-Waitwaitwait! BABY HOL’ ON!-“ Luffy stammered a bit before stopping you, pulling his body back and away from you while you stopped tugging at him. His yelling makes you pause before you pulled away from him, his snickers making you quirk a brow before that worry immediately melts away. “This is f’ya! I tied myself up f’ya!” He says proudly, his tongue trailing across his lips as he stared into your tired and sleep-induced eyes.

“W-Wh- Eh? Why?” You paused, gulping a bit while your eyes began to wander at his tan yet scarred skin and X-shaped scar adorning his chest. Your eyes land on his cock and you immediately look away, your face flushing into a deep shade of red. Luffy chuckles at your reaction. “Cuz I can! I saw how ya been lookin’ sad lately sooooo- Wanna help ya feel better. Take ya shit out on me~” Luffy says, slowly lying back and resting his head against the fluffy pillows.

You stood there as you cracked a little smile before sighing out at his at sweet stupidity. “Oh baby…I thank you but…I’m fine. I just wanna lay down and get some rest.” You say, walking over to the bed before letting out a little yawn. Luffy stared blankly at you before giving you a pouty frown.

“I ain’t spen’ all day tyin’ myself up f’ya t’be sayin’ that. Ya better fuckin’ fuck me while m’here now.” Luffy said firmly, huffing out and pouting at your response. You giggled before you began pulling off your clothes, with Luffy’s gazing eyes staring down at your body while you undressed. You slowly unclasp your bra and pull it off while Luffy watched as your breasts spilled out.

You climb onto bed and over to Luffy while Luffy begins to lie back and smile mischievously at you. You slowly climb over his larger frame and smile sweetly to him, lying down against his body and pressing his breasts against your his chest. “Y’know ya a pretty pretty gal right?~” Luffy said, a seductive tone leaking from his voice.

You blush in response and press your lips against his, his tongue immediately sliding past your lips and down your throat. You moan out shakily into his lips and press your hands against his shoulders, your hips grinding your clothed cunt slightly against his bare cock. He groans out and his brows furl at the contact before he pulls away, hissing out shakily as a string of saliva tears from both of your tips.

Luffy groans out in slight discomfort and sits up, urging you to get off of his body so he could get a bit more comfortable. You slowly lift yourself off of him before pulling your panties off, revealing your sticky heat to him while he mewls out in response. “Cmon~ Don’ keep me waitin’ baby~” He says, smirking to you as he began to wiggle his hips slightly.

You slowly crawl over to Luffy before getting down on your tummy, you lips moving in close to his bare and semi-hard cock. You lick a stripe up his shaft before taking some of his length past your lips, mewling and drooling out a bit into his cock to provide a bit of natural lubricant for easy entrance. Luffy hisses out as he watched you jerk his cock a bit, spreading out your spit along his length and making it a bit sticky.

You slowly pull away and climb on top of him, slowly pushing him down while you hovered your hips over his length. Luffy sits up and watches as you spread yourself open and begin lowering your hips onto his cock, a little mewl leaving past your lips as you take in his long and thick length.

You start out with fast and heavy movements, your breasts bouncing and the bed rocking as you bounced on his cock. A few heavy moans left past your lips and loud gasps left Luffy’s as he watched you bounce on him. “Baby!~ Ah~ Baby!~” Luffy groans out, his back arching slightly as he throws his head back against his pillow.

You being to slow down and breathe heavily, needing to recover from your fast movements against Luffy.

“Mmh~ Relax baby, i ain’ goin’ anywhere~” Luffy said, watching as you begin to prop yourself up with your arms. You nodded softly and your hips began moving softly once again and taking his cock in and out of your pussy. You moan out loudly as you felt his tip kiss at your g-spot deeply. A sharp thrust causes you to whine out and bite your fingernails, your body shuddering harshly as your movements began to slow down.

Luffy quirks a brow before lifting his head, wondering why you had just stopped moving all of the sudden. A few gasps leaves you and tears began to brew within your eyes as you started sniveling. Luffy quickly sits up, his eyes widening and brow furrowing at your sudden tears as he begins to try and tear away the ropes at his arms.

“Baby? Baby! Oi! What’s wrong w’ya?-“ He asked frantically, his arms struggling in the ropes as he began to wiggle and groan out at the strain and tightening of the ropes against his skin. You began to wipe your tears away but you continued to inhale sharply and whine out.

“Dammit- Damn these ropes!-“ Luffy groans out before finally pulling and tearing the ropes, his arms reaching out and wrapping around your body tightly before you both flop down onto the fluffy bedding below your bodies. You breathed heavily before whimpering out a bit more, trying to wipe away your tears that spilled from your eyes continuously and contain yourself.

“Baby- Dumplin’ answer me! Are ya okay? Ya hurt? What’s wrong?” Luffy began to bombard you with questions as he stared into your eyes with worry. You shook your head and Luffy moves in closer before peppering smooches against your cheeks, kissing your tears away while you mewl at his kisses.

“N-Nothing…It’s nothing Luffy…” You say shakily, slowly exhaling as your flowing tears slowed down a bit. Luffy chuckles before giving you another smooch, his body slowly sitting up and hovering over yours. “Stop lyin’, what’s botherin’ ya? Ya can tell me everythin’ Y’know?” Luffy says softly, his face softening as he stares into your eyes.

The longer he stared into your eyes, the more you began to break down again…

A few snivels leaves you once again before you began to cry heavily again, with Luffy smooching your tears away while he tired his best to relax you.

“I-I’m…I’m just so stressed out L-Luffy…My body is tired out and stressed…” You gasped, a little hiccup following after as you cover your face with your hands. Luffy stares at you blankly before slowly moving your hands away from your face. “Baby…Why ain’ ya tell me then…? I knew sum was wrong w’ya…Ya didn’ seem like ya normal self…” Luffy sighed, laying down and resting against your. You shook your head slightly before sighing out, your hands and face sticky with unending tears.

“I-I’m sorry…I just didn’t want to…worry you.” You apologized, biting your bottom lip while continuing to try and wipe your tears away. Luffy sighs at your stubborness and peppers a smooch to your lips before he smiles sweetly to you. “S’okay if ya worry me baby…I’d rather be worried than not knowin’ ya stressed out s’badly.” He whispers to you, his hands sliding along your skin and feeling at the softness of it.

You mewl out before wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close to you while he moves his hand towards your inner thigh. His tight grasp makes you gasp out before he lifts your leg up slightly, his other arm propping his own body up for a bit of support. His hips slowly begins to move against yours and you moan out shakily his cock went in and out of tight cunt. “M’gonna make ya feel better~ Jus’…Jus’ relax w’me…Relax and watch me make ya feel better~” He mewls out to you, his hips beginning to roll into yours a bit faster while you moan out shakily.

You held on to his body and shut your eyes softly, biting your lower lip as you tried to suppress your moans a little bit. Luffy chuckles before thrusting into you a bit hard, making you gasp out a bit louder before you bit your lip again. “Don’ hide ya moans, just let everythin’ out f’me~” He whispers, his voice making you shudder before you nodded in response.

Luffy begins to let out a heavy groan as he felt your walls tighten around his girth, his shaft massaging your walls and kissing your g-spot so deeply. “Oh~ L-Luffyy~” You gasp out, your moans growing airy as your arms pull away from him and lie back onto the quilt beneath you. You grip the quilt tightly as the bed begins to rock from Luffy’s thrusts, his thrusts growing more harsh and heavy into your pussy.

Luffy huffs out before pushing both of your legs up and pulling his body farther onto yours, his cock going deeper into your pussy. You notice his body beginning to let off a bit of steam and his skin gains a bit of a pinkish tint. “L-Luffy-“ You mewl out to him shakily, reaching your arms out to him while he stared down into your eyes. He chuckles and licks his lips before sitting up a bit, his fingers spreading your pussy open a bit before he slides his cock out a bit.

“Are ya gonna be okay w me usin’ gear second an’ haki?~” He asked you, his breaths growing heavy as his body gave off a bit of steam. You stare up at him with slight worry and his brows raise out of interest. You shudder a bit as you look back down at his cock, noticing the slightly darker tint on his length. The hot feeling of his dick deep inside of you made you look away out of shyness. “M-Mhmm…” You say hesitantly to him. Luffy chuckles before giving you a little kiss.

“Are ya sure? I wancha t’use ya words~” He says, his hands playing at your breasts as he waited for an answer. “Y-Yes, I’m okay with it Luffy. J-Just please be careful…” You say to him. He smiles and nods before shoving himself inside of you, making you gasp out while your toes curled from the sudden pleasure and slight pain.

Luffy wastes no time as he began thrusting fast and deep inside of you, his breathing heavy while he focused on your pleasure and your pretty expressions. Your face twisted from the pleasure as you moan out loudly, your bed now rocking rather fast because of Luffy. “Fuck ya feel so fuckin’ good~ Are ya feelin’ good because of me?~” He asked through heavy breaths.

You were slightly unresponsive but you nodded, your arms wrapping around him and pulling him close to you. You could already feel yourself ready to cum on his cock but you tried your best to hold back from cumming so quickly on his cock. Luffy could tell that you were close and he begins to go faster, his body beginning to sweat a bit from how fast he was going.

“Cmon! Cmon! Cum on my dick baby~ Don’ hold it back~” He groans out to you shakily, his grip growing tighter against your skin as he felt himself growing close to. You gasp and begin to shudder against him, your body struggling to hold on much longer with the continuous smooches against your g-spot. “Oh god!~ L-Luffy!~ Luffy I’m gonna cum!~” You whine out, you eyes brewing with tears while your throat began to grow sore from all of the hoarse moans you released.

“Fuck please do! Fuckin’ cum babyy~ I wan’ ya t’cum on m’fuckin’ dick, do it dumplin’!~” Luffy cooed, his groans growing into moans while his thrusts grew sloppy and unrhythmic. You mewl out and threw your head back, your eyes softly shutting as you felt your orgasm yearning to be pulled out of you. Luffy presses a smooch to your temple and lays close to you, focusing on your pleasuring your pussy and making you cum.

“Ah!~ Fuck!- Fuck- L-Luffy!~” You let out a final gasp before you finally squirt out onto his abdomen, your moans loud and lengthy as you cum hard on his cock. “Yeah! Fuck keep squirtin’ on me~” Luffy huffs out, your orgasm now making him grow more feral towards you. His thrusts grows faster and you gasp out shakily, his cock now overstimulating your pussy while your eyes brewed with hot tears once again.

The sloppy sound of his hips slapping against yours makes you turn a deep shade of red while you look deep into Luffy’s eyes with cloudy vision. “M’so close baby~ Fuck I’m so close~ M’gonna fill ya up nice an’ fuckin’ good w’my cum~” He groaned out heavily into your ear, his nails scratching against your skin as he grew a bit rough with his thrusts.

Your moans were now weaker and it was getting harder to release your voice with a dry and hoarse throat. Your feet had cramped a bit from curling your toes for so long, but how could you stop when Luffy was pleasing your pussy so wonderfully? Luffy slowly begins to hyperventilate while his thrusts began to go at an intense and quickened speed, indicating that he was finally close to his orgasm.

“Gonna- Gonna cum!~ F-Fuck m’gonna fuckin’ cum!~” He groans out heavily and grips your body tight before he finally releases, his seed spurting deep inside of your and filling you up pretty quickly. You let out a shaky and heavy moan as you squirt out onto his abdomen again, your eyes rolling up while you bit your bottom lip so tightly. Luffy continues to fill you up, his hands shaking against your hips while you felt his cum filling you up full.

A bit of his cum spills out from your entrance which is when he finally pulls out of your pussy, his cock coated in his own cum while he huffs heavily and stares down at your gaping pussy filled with cum. You breathed out shakily while your body trembled beneath him, fully broken yet satisfied from the wonderful fucking you’ve just received. Luffy’s skin slowly began to cease the steaming and he slowly gets down on his tummy before staring up at you.

His hands gripped your thighs once again before sliding his tongue against your clitoris which makes you gasp out heavily. You look up and down at Luffy who was planted between your legs.

“N-No Luffy- D-Don’t eat down there it’s dirty!”

“Ain’ nothin’ dirty ‘bout this silly! It’s my own ain’ it!? Shishishi~”

You could notice the haki coating his digits as he slowly slides them deep inside of you, his fingers feeling around your sticky coated walls before he presses his fingers against your bundle of nerve, making you moan out suddenly. “Oh fuck L-Luffy please~ N-Not now please!~” You moan out, your eyes rolling up as you felt him thrust his fingers deep inside of your while his tongue circled around your clit.

“Wanna taste ya~ Wanna taste ya s’fuckin’ badly~” He growls out heavily, his eyes rolling up as he slurps and slobs all over your pussy hungrily. His tongue focused on your clit while his fingers focused on your insides, his multitasking making your pussy so overwhelmed and overstimulated with pleasure.

Heavy gasps and mewls leave your lips as you weakly grind your hips against his fingers and tongue, begging for more pleasure yet not needing anymore due to sensitivity. “Luffy~ Oh Luffy~ Baby you’re making me f-feel so fucking good~” You whimper, your hand reaching out and gripping his raven curls while he moans out heavily. His fingers begins to go faster inside of you and you shudder against him, feeling your pussy wanting to releasing again and so quickly due to sensitivity.

“Fuck- Fuck I’m gonna cum again! P-Please Luffy!~” You gasped out shakily yet loudly, your hips now grinding up into Luffy’s face and fingers while you struggled to pull your orgasm out. Luffy moans out before just settling on shoving his tongue inside of you, his fingers now focusing on your clit while he begins to eat out your cum-filled pussy.

Your toes curls and your eyes roll up as you felt his tongue wriggle inside of you, prodding against your g-spot while his fingers pinch and swirled at your pretty clit. Your walls tightens around his tongue and you gasp out heavily while your thighs begins to wrap around his head. You shudder harshly as you finally squirt once again onto Luffy’s face, a heavy whine spilling out after as you lie back and shiver against him.

Luffy moans out and pulls his tongue from your pussy, his fingers still massaging your clit to ride out your high. He licks at the sticky release on his face and mewls out at the taste, a hiss leaving his lips as he licked and presses a smooch against the skin of your neck. “Fuck, good gal~” He whispered, biting against your skin while the middle of his face was still a bit sticky with your release.

You breathed heavily and mewl out softly, your voice hoarse and your body practically broken from the overstimulation and pleasure. Luffy pats your lower tummy before rubbing it softly with his roughly-scarred hand, his lips pressing a smooch to your lips while your eyes began to flutter and blink in and out of sleep.

“Ya feel better baby?~ Ya feel better after being filled with m’sticky cum deep inside ya pussy?~” He hums, a little snicker leaving him afterwards. A soft snore leaves your lips and Luffy stares down at you before laughing a bit. “Ya fell asleep before me! Musta worn ya all th’way out…” He says, giving your one last kiss before lying down beside you.

His hands played at your skin, cupping and fondling with your breasts while you slept soundly and fully relieved of stress. Luffy couldn’t help but to smile and feel proud for making you fall asleep shortly after. He had taken all of that stress out of your body so he was so happy that you enjoyed him and his affection.

A yawn slowly leaves his lips but he refused to fall asleep. He wanted to listen out for intruders and continue to admire your tired and sleepy frame, taking slow and soft breaths and watching your chest rise and fall slowly.

Fuck he was just…so proud. He was happy that he relieved you and put you to sleep.

“Goodnight dumplin’…Sleep well baby….”

#puddingcupfics #puddingcupimagines #dividers -> cafekitsune #dividers -> benkeibear #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece luffy #op luffy #luffy smut #luffy fluff #monkey d luffy #luffy x female reader

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Green| Part 01

A good idea not thought through.

Tags/Warnings: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, Single Dad!AU, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, angst, suggestive, mentioned smut but sfw

Length: 3.7k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When Jimin had set this whole date up, Jungkook had expected.. Nothing, really.  

As far as he knows, he’s supposed to meet you at the restaurant right here, and you supposedly know exactly which table he sits at- but what he did not expect, was for you to be so.. Pretty.  

You’re clearly a fox hybrid, distinctive hybrid features standing out, very much well taken care of. The second you sit down, he notices even the shape of your pupils being the same as a common fox’s, though they don’t make him feel intimidated at all. Not as they should, at least.  

Jungkook remembers the teasing jokes back in school, or the struggle to earn his spot even later in life as a prey hybrid. Many people still believe that he’s not a good fit for a leading position in his company as a rabbit, unable to apparently make important decisions with a realistic view on things or not mentally strong enough to withstand the stress of responsibility. But he’s not just a meek little bunny.  

And from the looks of it, you’re not a dangerous predator either.  

“Well, Jimin wasn’t lying when he told me you were.. Cute.” You say, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath- and you take it as a bad sign, instantly going back on your words. “Not as in, not-to-be-taken-seriously-cute, but like- uh.. Your ears just look.. Pretty?” You tell him, and at that, his eyes move to look at you from the rim of his wineglass, one of his mentioned black rabbit ears slowly standing up.  

Silver piercings are decorating it. It’s an uncommon sight- but you decide it fits him.  

“...thanks.” He nods, before he licks his lips, and averts his eyes. “I apologize, It’s been.. A while since I’ve been on a date.” He shamefully admits, but you wave him off.  

“It’s not a problem.” You deny. “I don’t go on dates often either.” 

“How come?” He wonders, seeing an opportunity to spark some smalltalk, so he can find out a little more about you.  

“Just.. Not the time. And no partner to go on one with.” You giggle, thanking the waitress for your glass of wine. “I’m usually pretty busy with work.”  

“Work?” He asks, and you nod, your pretty fox ears suddenly standing tall with pride, tail swinging behind you. It’s pretty cute, in his humble opinion.  

“I’m an author!” You beam happily. “I write children’s books, and fantasy novels.” You explain, and Jungkook’s thoughts instantly go back to his daughter, currently in the care of Jimin at his house. Did you write a book she’s seen before?  

“Children’s books?” He wonders, feeling a bit stupid for just asking you, and never giving you anything in return.  

“Yep.” You chirp. “Mostly.. Very simple one’s. Ages 4 to 7.” You explain. “And you? What do you do for a living if I may ask?” You wonder, resting your chin on your hands.  

“I’m.. The vice president of HLC at the moment. Hopefully I might get a promotion at some point.” He chuckles, and your eyes widen.  

“Wow.. That's. Okay, that’s huge.” You laugh a bit uneasy now.  

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He wonders, a bit confused. Both of his ears are up now, his body becoming more and more comfortable with your presence.  

“A little?” You admit. You’re honest, it seems like. He already decides it’s a very positive point. “I feel a little.. Out of your league, so to say.” You say a bit jokingly, taking a sip from your wine. He shakes his head.  

“Don't worry about it.” He denies, reassuring you. “We both have our places in life.”  

“So it seems.” You nod, while you wait for your dinner to be served.  

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A place Jungkook had not seen you in his life, was beneath him, in his bed.  

But that’s exactly where you’ve ended up, most of your clothes already having been stripped from your bodies, lying somewhere in the bedroom. He honestly blamed his attraction to you on his hormones at first, and the fact that he’d neglected his natural need for physical intimacy for so long due to his single-father situation, but in this moment, he knows that it’s more than just that.  

And that just screams trouble.  

But right now, Jungkook can’t make himself think of anything other than you beneath his hands, skin warm as you push your bare behind right into him. He’d technically wanted to drive you home, a simple act of chivalry since your date had honestly been very nice, but somehow, you ended up agreeing to at least let the night come to an end in a more relaxed atmosphere at his apartment, since you told him that you’ve always dreamed to live in a apartment high up with a view of the city skyline.  

He really just wanted to show you the view. He really doesn’t know when you both started to make out.  

But he knows that it’s something you both clearly want- your hands holding onto his bedsheets almost impatiently, while he’s busy wrapping the condom over his length. If the situation was just a little different, Jungkook could see you both getting along a lot longer than for just this- but he’s got responsibilities, and he can’t just bring someone into his life without thinking about it long enough.  

And also, with his daughter still at such a vulnerable age, there’s just no way she’d accept you. 

Initially, he’d keep it at this. You’re in perfect breeding position, face in the pillows, behind pushed into him- but he has to see you. It’s not some magical connection type of thing, just simple attraction, and maybe, just maybe, his inner need to at least pretend for a moment that he’s just a young guy being together with his girlfriend- even though that’s never going to be the truth.  

Just for a moment, he wants to pretend.  

Just for one night.  

On your end, this is just an adventure you’ve never been on before. Jimin had told you to come out of your shell a little, be a bit wild for once, and meet his best friend who’s got a ‘just as dry’ intimate life as you did. And you can’t deny that this friend- Jungkook- is anything but charming, and attractive. Despite being a prey hybrid, he’s oozing a certain sense of confidence that’s not overbearing, but simply comfortable to be around.  

But all good things must come to an end- and to spare the poor young man the awkwardness, you get up in the middle of the night- early morning, barely three AM.  

Putting on your clothes, and somewhat fixing your hair, you carefully make sure to write a small note to leave on his kitchen table. Your face is already bare, since you both did shower yesterday before going to bed- so you don’t have to worry about that.  

Maybe he’d like to meet you again? Well, you surely left your number on the note for him to reach out to, if he so decides to do so.  

However, just as you try and walk out, you notice something.. Odd.  

A small, childrens-size pale green wintercoat, hanging on the wall next to the entrance. Tiny shoes, green, frog-themed rain boots, and an equally themed little umbrella hanging on the wall as well, next to what you assume must be Jungkook’s clothes. These things clearly belong to a child- and now that you pay more attention to it, you do smell the uniquely scent profile of a kid in the apartment.  

And the scents are too alike to deny that it must be his.  

Panic starts to bubble up inside you. If he has a child, there must be a mother to it as well, right? Maybe not, but the chance is too high for you to really take any chances. Jimin didn’t mention that at all- if he’d told you that this rabbit wanted to cheat and not just ‘go on a date’, you would’ve never agreed to it!  

Did you just become a homewrecker?  

You’re taking a step to take your note with you again, but you instead hear Jungkook move around in his bedroom, sleepily calling out your name- and that makes your instincts go haywire, as you instead basically rip the door open after somewhat slipping into your heels, and fetching your small handbag from the floor near the way too cute rainboots staring at you oh-so innocently.  

The door snaps shut behind you, and you don’t look back as you rush down and into the elevator, leaving the fancy apartment building and this whole mistake behind. 

Already fuming as you call Jimin, uncaring about the time. 

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

“I’m so sorry!” Jimin apologizes to Jungkook, who just sighs as he washes Minji’s plastic dishes in the sink, while the little girl is occupied on the couch, watching her favorite show before bed. “I didn’t think you both would end up here though-” 

“It doesn’t matter anyways.” The young father denies, putting every piece of cutlery on the side to dry later. “It’s not like it would’ve worked out anyways. I just wish she knew that this was just a huge misunderstanding.” He clarifies, turning off the faucet before he grabs a towel to dry the dishes.  

“I tried explaining it to her, really.” Jimin whines, feeling incredibly guilty for screwing this up so badly for his friend. “But she doesn’t believe me at all.” He sighs, sitting down.  

“Like I said, it’s not like it would’ve worked out.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Minji already got nervous when Taehyung dropped her off this morning already just because her scent lingered.” 

“But.. Isn't there, like, any way of getting her used to it?” Jimin wonders. “Like, I swear I’ve seen predator-prey couples with a prey child, and they looked fine to me.”  

“Rare.” Jungkook just shrugs, putting the plastic cutlery and dishes away in their respective places. “It’s really fine. I just hope she doesn’t feel guilty about things, or believes that she was just some sort of.. Body for me to use.” He says, ears low against his head, simply flopping down. It’s obvious that Jungkook is upset about it all. Because from what Jimin had told him, you’d felt horrible, believing that you were some part in him cheating on the mother of his child- unaware that she’s not even in the picture, and hasn’t been for years.  

“I’m gonna try and convince her one way or another.” Jimin sighs. “Really, this is so fucked up. The main reason I tried setting you both up WAS Minji!” He whines to himself, thanking Jungkook for the glass of water he offers him, before the young father sits down across from him at the kitchen table. 

“What do you mean?” He wonders.  

“She loves kids!” The human reveals. “She really does, but she herself can’t have any. Which I think might be why she feels so strongly in this situation.” He explains, making Jungkook sigh.  

Well, that just makes him feel so much worse.  

“There’s got to be a way to make this right somehow.” Jimin complains to himself, while looking over at Minji, who’s busy watching the TV with her favourite plush toy in her lap keeping her company. “I’m really sorry. I thought.. I don’t know. I forgot that because you’re two different hybrids, you might not get along too well..” He says, but Jungkook shakes his head.  

“I.. We got along very well, actually. I really liked her. Or rather, still like her.” He chuckles a bit bitterly to himself. “But I guess finding a partner is out of the question for me, at least until Minnie is a bit older.”  

“A bit older? Jungkook, you said she probably will stay scared of predator hybrids until she’s what? Twelve?” His human friend reminds him.  

“...generally, yeah.” He shrugs.  

“Jungkook, no. That can’t.. I refuse to accept that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll explain it all to her, I promise, and you’ll try and make this work with Minji when the time comes. Please.” Jimin says. “I don’t want to see you so lonely all the time.” 

“I’m not lonely- I have Minji.” Jungkook refuses.  

“You know what I mean.” Jimin presses.  

“...alright.” Jungkook sighs. “If- IF- you somehow work it out with her, and she wants to.. Talk, give her my number. And not the office phone, please.” He runs a hand over his face, before he gets up with his friend to bring him to the door. “But don’t pressure her. If she doesn’t want to see me again, that’s fine too.”  

“I won’t.” Jimin promises. “Promise.” 

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

You’re sitting in front of Jungkook again, in a public cafe, a hot cup of milky coffee in front of you, while he seems equally as nervous with his own iced americano in his hands, fingers tracing the pearling condensation a little.  

“So.” You start, looking at him, nervously licking your lips.  

“So.” He nods. “I have a child.”  

“So I’ve noticed.” You answer him, legs swinging a bit back and forth, due to the chair being a bit too high for you. 

“Her mother.. Left, pretty much a few weeks after she was born.” He explains in a neutral tone, staring down at his beverage. “No one really has an answer why. But she just.. It was as if she was disgusted with her own child, pretty much right after birth.” Jungkook recites the events. “Didn’t want to hold her, got angry when she cried, refused to take care of her. We thought it might just.. Be postpartum depression?” He leans his head to the side a little. “It happens more than one might think, after all. But it never got any better.” He shakes his head. “So.. We decided to split up, and I took care of Minji by myself.” 

“Did she ever.. Maybe reach out?” You wonder, but Jungkook shakes his head.  

“She re-married again. Lives in Italy now, with her new husband and stepchildren.” He chuckles a bit. “I’m happy she’s happy, you know? Just wish it went a little different.” He honestly reveals.  

“How old is Minji?” You wonder, dreading the answer. Because from both the scent and the size of the clothes and shoes in his home, she must be young. 

“She’s three and a half.” He reveals, and both of you become quiet.  

Oh. 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. With his daughter this young, there’s just no way you could ever move forward with your friendship even- considering you’re still a predator hybrid at the end of the day, something that surely will scare the poor little bunny half to death. Why do you always have to get crushes on the worst possible people? 

“Well, I’m sure.. She’s very lucky to have you as a dad.” You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. “And you’ll soon find a proper partner as well. You’re very likable after all.” You praise, praying that he can’t see the way your eyes begin to water.  

“I’m sorry.” He answers, and his voice sounds just as dissappointed as he feels. “I.. Wish we would’ve met under different circumstances.” 

“Then you wouldn’t have Minji.” You deny, spotting two drops of your tears having fallen onto the table. “Sorry, I’m a crybaby...” You say, fetching a tissue from your handbag.  

“We could still try-” He starts, but you shake your head.  

“No, she’s gonna be terrified of me, I don’t wanna scare her.” You refuse, drying your cheeks with a good amount of embarrassment, large fox ears pinned back in shame of it all.  

“Minji is a lot braver than one might think.” Jungkook chuckles, reaching out to help you wipe off your slightly smudged mascara from beneath your eyes. “She just.. She might just be a bit shy. Or very shy, most likely.” He adds, and you giggle a bit.  

“Jungkook.. I’m sorry I’m me.” You say, but he shakes his head, smiling at you.  

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.”  

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

You decide to meet up again at Jimin’s birthday party- the human having invited you both, and Minji as well for the dinner he’d organized at his favourite restaurant in town. You’ll have the whole venue for yourselves to make it both easier for the staff, and everyone attending.  

Jungkook is nervous in his seat, Minji next to him in her seat, happily coloring in her little book that he brought with him to keep her occupied, different shades of green crayons all over her spot at the table.  

It’s then that the door to the restaurant opens, and you step in, together with Min Yoongi- a coworker and fellow predator hybrid whom you’ve befriended a few years ago, or so Jimin said. The big cat hybrid is apparently a tiger- though his ears and tail aren’t even slightly orange, instead monochrome white and black, his light eyes proving the fact that he’s not a standard.  

But, Jungkook can’t look at him for too long, because he’s too busy blatantly staring at you instead, with your pretty face, dressed up for the occasion. So much so, that Minji has to pull on his sleeve to get his attention back, looking at him before she tilts her head, small bunny ears in between her hair moving on a constant, since so much is going on.  

This will be it. If she gets too scared, he’ll have to go home early- and basically bury his hope of ever building something with you.  

But even though she does seem nervous, she’s not yet scared- instead clinging to her father by instinct, who’s calm, mostly that is. “Come, let’s say hi to everyone, yeah?” He offers her, and she reluctantly gets up with him, clinging to his hand while they both walk towards Yoongi and you, who’s just hanging up your coat.  

“Long time no see.” Jungkook offers Yoongi, who nods and shakes his hand politely, before he leans down to make himself as small as he can, in hopes of maybe getting at least something out of the little girl- but she instead steps behind Jungkook, the predator hybrid too intimidating. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh don’t be. She grew quite a lot in a year.” Yoongi dismisses, while you reluctantly walk closer, politely moving to shake Jungkook’s hand as well- but the rabbit hybrid instead moves to give you a hug, despite his daughter being so close. And much to your surprise, this action alone seems to spark Minji’s interest- her head poking around Jungkook’s legs, just to look at you curiously, especially your fluffy tail that’s nervously swaying from side to side behind you.  

“Say hello, Minji.” Jungkook urges her, but as if snapped out from her trance, she shakes her head, instead running back to her seat at the table where she picks up her crayons once more.  

“She’s cute.” You say, earning Jungkook’s attention back. “Looks.. A lot like you.” You mention, and he nods.  

“I know. A lot of people tell me she’s like.. A mini-version of me.” He chuckles, walking towards his own spot next to his daughter. “Do you.. Want to sit next to me?” He wonders, and you nod, accepting happily. Sitting next to him will get Minji used to your scent, while also putting a safety barrier between her and him, so she can figure you out from afar.  

Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.  

Something you’re very much surprised about, is that throughout the entire evening, the little hybrid girl does not seem to complain whatsoever. Not once does she get fidgety, or whiny about sitting in one spot for too long- and once she does, Jungkook is quick and skilled in handling her well, calming her down or occupying her attention for a moment.  

Though, at some point, she does get up and roam around a little, under the watchful eye of her father of course.  

You’re currently talking to Jungkook about your work, when you notice something on your tail, one slight look from you revealing that it’s the little girl, carefully running her small hands over the fur, interest too great to really let her inner fear control her. You know she’s on high alert- ears standing tall and completely turned towards you, motions freezing entirely when she notices that you’ve noticed her.  

Jungkook smiles at his daughter. “It’s pretty, hm?” He asks her, and nods, before she reaches out to have him pick her up and sit her on his lap, where she stares at you, now a lot more bold in the arms of her father. She’s visibly taking your entire appearance in, before she looks at Jungkook again, attempting to pull one of his jet-black rabbit ears, making him laugh and gently prevent her from doing so. “What do you want with dad’s ears, huh?” He jokingly scolds. “You’ve got your own, right there!” He reminds her, gently pulling her own equally dark ears, which makes her laugh.  

You can’t help but smile fondly at the interaction.  

That is until suddenly, the little girl boldly reaches out for your ears now- something that makes you both surprised and excited- your head leaning closer so she can clumsily grab at your ears, laughing most likely at how soft they are. It clearly makes Jungkook hopeful, his own tail wiggling around without his own knowledge as he watches the short but warm interaction with you two.  

It’s obvious that while Jungkook is around, she feels comfortable and safe enough to interact with you- but as soon as his attention is somewhere else, she becomes more withdrawn and suspicious again, which is natural. But the fact that she’s not panicking at least, is already a great sign.  

Maybe there’s a chance.  

Maybe this could really work.  

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

[pinkie-pop]

"I Have Something To Tell You."

Part I Part II Part III

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Yandere Genshn Impact, non religious SAGAU, Yandere Fatui Harbingers

Word count: 4k

Includes: Portrayal of mental illness, suicide, brief mention of experimentation, Scaramouche gets a new name, he's also really annoying, solving problems with violence

Synopsis: After killing yourself and landing in the world of Genshin Impact, you reflect on all that has gone wrong.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Two weeks.

You have two weeks before Dottore’s experiments start (you suppose even his apparent fondness for you has its limits), two weeks to make a case for yourself and prove to Scaramouche that you're worth saving. 

“What about him? I don't have time for idle chatter, you know. Spit it out.” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. You hope this goes well. 

“Well…”

Every second seems to stretch on for a millennium. The silence is deafening, though you can feel your heart beating so rapidly you're surprised you can't hear it.

“...And this information is reliable?” He says at last. You nod. Contrary to your expectations, Scaramouche simply sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I assume you have a reason for telling me this now of all times. What do you want?”

“Freedom,” you say. He quirks his eyebrow, so you continue. “This place is suffocating. Let's run away together. To Sumeru.”

“Together?” There's an unreadable expression on his face, but you’re far too focused on convincing him to pay it any mind.

“Yes. Unless you want to stay here, even after learning the truth?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as if in contemplation. “Alright. Pack your bags. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

“Tomorrow?!” 

“Is that a problem?” You stare at him with wide eyes. “Close your mouth,” he says. You do.

“Don't we need time to prepare? A plan? Something? Anything?”

“What, you don't trust me?” He mocks. “It's fine. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” Your jaw drops to the floor. “Figure it out”? Is he insane? And he's leaving it all up to you? You gawk at him, but he merely shoos you away from his chambers. 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

True to his word, Scaramouche (you suppose his name will be changing soon) picks you up at dawn. You brought nothing but the clothes on your back, some mora, and some jewelry that looked expensive. It’s precisely 4:44 AM when you both exit the palace, careful not to be seen by any guards or servants. You stifle a yawn, having been up all night concocting a plan for the escape. 

Think, brain, think. 

You have to come up with an executable plan by tonight. You can't think straight. Even writing your own suicide note didn't take this much brainpower.

Wait…that's it. 

Hurriedly, you grab a pen and paper from your writing desk and get to work. Through writing, you explain that you and Scaramouche have become star-crossed lovers. You know the other Harbingers would not accept your union, and so you've left the palace together to act out a suicide pact. Don’t bother looking for your bodies, you said, as you'd be throwing yourselves into the ocean. Carefully, you seal the envelope and place it under your pillow. Scaramouche said he’d handle getting you out of the palace, so you don’t have to worry on that end, but getting caught after the fact still falls on you to figure out. 

Luckily, you already have an idea or two.

Just like in your letter, the two of you head to the ocean first. It’s still early, so many boats are left unmanned in the docks. Stealing a simple paddle boat is easy enough, but it dawns on you that you have no idea how to get to Sumeru. 

“What is it?” Scaramouche asks, seeming to sense your hesitance. 

“I…don’t actually know how to get to Sumeru from here.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously? Is that head of yours just for show?”

“Hey! At least I have a plan. You just dumped this whole thing on me!”

“It was your idea,” he retorts. You groan.

“Whatever. Let’s just go in one direction until we hit land, I guess. We’ll figure the rest out from there.” With that, you and Scaramouche work together in silence to untie a boat from its tether and board it. It only takes about an hour of rowing before your arms begin to ache, but you push through the pain, too prideful to ask Scaramouche to take over. By your third hour, your arms feel like they’re about to fall off, and your rowing has slowed significantly. Wordlessly, Scaramouche takes the ores from your weary hands and takes over the rowing. That’s strange…why didn’t he tease you? Shouldn’t he have at least called you weak or useless?

“What?” He asks, voice gruff.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, realizing you’d been staring. “Sorry.” 

“Hmph.” He turns away with a huff. You might be imagining it, but you could have sworn his ears turned just the tiniest bit red.

Finally, the two of you reach shore. It looks…oddly familiar. 

“Oh!” You say, clapping your hands together. Scaramouche jumps, but you pay him no mind (If you had paid attention, however, you would undoubtedly have noticed that jumping implies his guard was down—something that seems very out of character for someone like him). “I know where we are!”

“Where?” He asks, looking somewhat annoyed (though that could just be his face).

“The beach!” You say.

“...Seriously?” Realizing how silly that sounded, your face heats up.

“The beach,” you say. “The one from the tutorial.”

“The what?”

“Forget it. We’re in the east end of Mondstadt. I can take us to Sumeru from here.” The route is pretty straightforward, so you should have no trouble getting there. You lead the way, passing through the whispering woods, past Mondstadt city, Springvale, and then Dawn Winery. After about two hours of walking, you’ve already made it to Liyue. 

“Tired yet?” Scaramouche asks. 

“Not even a little,” you reply. 

You walk from Stonegate to Dihua Marsh, then pass Wangshu Inn and the Guili Planes. Finally, you’ve reached Liyue Harbor, where you and Scaramouche stop to get food and rest.

“Do you think you’ll change your name?” You ask in between bites. 

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I just figured you wouldn’t want to use Scaramouche anymore. Considering the whole Dottore situation and all. Plus,” you say, pausing to take a chew. “We’re on the run right now. A Harbinger’s name might draw attention.”

“Pick one for me, then.”  

“How about ‘Hat Guy’?” You ask, stifling a laugh. He huffs.

“Forget it.” 

“What about Kuni?”

“No.”

“Kuzushi?”

“No.”

“Kuku?”

“Are you even trying?”

“You insult me,” you say with a grin.”Well, if we’re going to Sumeru, maybe we should pick a Sumerian name? What do you think about Arasay?” 

“That…isn’t terrible.”

“High praise.” You decide not to tell him that ‘Arasay’ is really just ‘Scara’ in pig Latin, missing a letter. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I…um, think I’m from the future?”

“What?”

“Uh, let me start over and walk you through my train of thought. So, in my world, the way I interact with this world is through a medium called a computer. This computer allows me to take limited control of the Traveler and his associates, make them stronger, stuff like that. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes. Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I just said I was walking you through my train of thought. Have some patience will you?” From Arasay’s smirk, you can tell he was only messing with you. “Ugh, you’re the worst. Anyway, the computer gives me insight on important events that happen to the traveler. The thing is, though, some of those events haven’t actually happened yet. Like, let me ask you this: what was the last major thing that the Traveler did?”

“He defeated Stormterror not long after you got here.”

“After I got here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s a huge problem.” You bury your face in your hands, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of your situation. 

“Care to enlighten me?” Arasay asks, seeming annoyed (though, really, that seems to just be his default state). 

“So, it’s- I- Ugh.” You let your head fall onto the table. Quickly, you raise your head and look up at your companion. “How do you know about me?”

“You possessed one of my colleagues.” 

“Except I didn’t.” You lean in closer to him, nearly face-to-face.

“What do you mean?”

“Tartaglia hasn’t met the Traveler yet, and I didn’t take control over him until after he met the Traveler. So, let me ask you again: how do you know about me?”

“Agh!” Arasay grabs at his head, a pained expression on his face. You leap to your feet and rush over to his side, your hands floating mere inches from him, as if you’re worried he’ll shatter with the smallest touch. “My…my head!” He says, clutching his hair between his fists. He convulses, then slumps over.

“Arasay? Arasay!” You shake him, desperately trying to rouse him to no avail. “Arasay!” You cry. 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, nearly slumping over.

“That scared me,” you say. “Are you sure you’re okay now? You aren’t just saying it out of pride?”

“Your concern disgusts me,” he says, hiding his face behind his hat. You know he’s lying: the tips of his ears are pink. After composing himself, he lets go of his hat and faces you. “I-”

“Hey-” 

You both look at each other. Arasay sighs. “You go first,” he says.

“I think you should ditch the hat.”

“What?”

“It draws too much attention. We don’t want rumors about the hat guy and his companion floating around so soon after we ran off, do we?” Arasay sighs again, louder this time. 

“Fine,” he says taking his hat off and placing it to his side. “Happy?”

“You look naked.” He gives you the stink eye. “Sorry, sorry. You look fine. We’ll get you a new hat when we get to Sumeru. Maybe a less flashy one?” 

“Whatever.”

“You had something you wanted to say, too, right?” He nods.

“I had a dream,” he starts, looking off in the distance. “It happened when I passed out. In it, I saw the timeline you described. I remembered meeting the Traveler, fighting him, joining him, getting my vision-” Arasay unclenches his fist, turning his hand over to reveal what you hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. A shiny blue vision, encased in a Sumerian sheath. “I remembered everything.”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “Interesting,” you say, a million thoughts racing through your head. 

“I think I know what we need to do next.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

When you finish eating, you leave the harbor and head to the Chasm, where you bribe the two guards to let you in. Navigating the Chasm is a little tricky, as it’s an area you haven’t spent much time in, but through sheer luck and some educated guessing, you manage to find your way to Cinnabar Cliff. 

Finally, you’re in Sumeru. It took three hours of rowing and five of walking, but you finally made it. As the sun sets over the horizon, you breathe out a sigh of relief. You’ve made it. 

“We’re here,” Arasay says. “What now?”

“Now we go to Gandharva village,” you say, confidently taking a step forwards. As the two of you travel down the path, you spot an Aranara out of the corner of your eye. Though you’d like to go up and befriend it, it disappears before you can even get a good look. You continue walking, lost in your own thoughts when Arasay grabs you. You jolt to attention, quickly realizing that you were about two steps from waking right into a withering zone. Right, you had forgotten about these.

“Watch it,” he says. 

“Should we just go around?” You ask, looking over to your companion. He shakes his head. 

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” You’re surprised by how quickly and efficiently he fights off the monsters and clears out the area. You knew he was strong from playing the game, of course, but something about seeing it in action is different. It’s amazing, really. “Don’t tell me you’re impressed by only this much,” he says. You glare at him. 

“Not at all,” you say, walking past him. You pause, briefly forgetting your frustration and remembering your manners. “Thanks, though.” As you continue down the path, you spot a familiar tuff of green hair and call out to it. 

“Collei!” You cry, running over to her. Collie jumps, looking up at you with a confused smile. 

“Do…do I know you?” She asks. You freeze. Whoops. You forgot she doesn’t know who you are. 

“Ah- sorry! Let me introduce myself. I’m [Name], the Player—which is how I knew your name. If you want me to prove it, I can-”

“No, I believe you,” she says firmly.

“You do?”

“Uh, well,” Collei folds her hands together, looking a bit bashful. “It was a little weird, but I felt like I knew you the moment I saw you, even though I was sure I’d never seen you in my life. Your presence was…familiar to me. It…felt like home. A-anyway, that’s how I recognized you! But, um, what are you doing here? And, um, who’s your friend?” 

“‘Friend’ is pushing it,” Arasay huffs. You sigh dramatically, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you drape yourself over him. 

“Soulmate, then,” you say, smiling. “Love of my life, the apple of my eye?” Arasay pushes you off of him, and you fall to the ground, your laughing only intensified by the bright pink of his cheeks. Collei looks between you two awkwardly. 

“Arasay,” he says to her, helping you up off the ground. “And the reason we’re here is because-”

“Let’s go to the village first,” you say. “We need to speak to your master, too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“So you need a place to stay for the night?” Tighnari asks, looking between you two. You nod. 

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble,” you say. 

“Not at all,” he says. “You two can stay with me.” 

“Um, Master,” Collei pipes up. “if it’s okay, I’d like to be the one to host the Player in my hut.” Tighnari looks her up and down, as if sizing her up in his mind.

“I’m sure the player would be more comfortable in my hut,” he says, his ear flicking. “You can take their friend.”

“But—!”

“Collei,” Tighnari says in a warning tone. “Don’t push yourself. I’m sure the Player wouldn’t want you stretching yourself thin over them, right? Don’t forget that you’re still ill.” Collei nods, looking dejected, so you offer her a small smile for comfort. This seems to cheer her up a bit, but she still looks disheartened. The way they’re fighting over you reminds you of being with the Fatui. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” you say. Arasay looks like he has something to say to you, but you avoid his stare until Collei drags him over to her hut. You and Tighnari begin to settle in for the night. It’s clear from the way his gaze continues to travel back to you that he has something he wants to say. You ignore him, though, far too exhausted to try and humor him.

Soon enough, morning arrives. You ask Tighnari to accompany you and Arasay to Sumeru city.

“You’re going to the city?” Tighnari’s ears perk up. “What do you need there?”

“People,” you say. Tighnari looks over to Arasay, who simply shrugs and gets ready to depart. 

The three of you make it to the city, where the guards stop and hand you an Akasha Terminal. You thank them and put it on, keeping it there for a grand total of three and a half steps until the guards stop looking, and you pocket the thing immediately. 

“Where to?” Arasay pipes up.

“The Akademiya. We need to pick up Cyno and Alhaitham.”

“Cyno I know, but I’ve never heard of this Alhaitham before,” Tighnari says. “Who is he?”

“The Scribe. I don’t know where his office is, though.” 

“Cyno might know. And if he doesn’t, I’m sure he can find out.”

“I just hope he’s not busy,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. You keep walking, and in the few seconds you have your eyes off the road, you manage to crash into someone. You and the other person fall to the ground, with you clutching the arm you accidentally hit. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Arasay scolds. 

“Sorry, I-”

“Not you. Her,” he says, glaring daggers at the lady you knocked into. Tighnari helps you up, and you help the lady to her feet. As you do, you notice her arms are covered in bandages. One happens to be loose, and you can see dark purple scales poking out from underneath. 

“...Dunyarzad?” You say, nearly holding your breath.

“Yes?” She asks, looking confused. “Do I know you?”

“Yes! No! Um, maybe…?”

“Huh…?” With exceptional timing, Dehya arrives on the scene.

“Dehya!” 

“Do I know you…?” You chuckle. You feel like you’ve been hearing that a lot lately. 

“So…” Briefly, you explain who you are. 

“Can you take accountability for your words?” Dehya asks, eyes narrowing. 

“I can,” you say confidently. “But first, can you come with me? I only want to prove myself once, and there are still some other people I want to see.”

“And now you’re giving me orders? The Player has been missing for weeks. Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, stepping closer to you. Arasay blocks her from coming any closer, and you can practically feel the animosity in the air. “Even if I did believe you, I can’t just abandon my post like that.”

“That’s enough, Dehya,” says Dunyarzad, walking between you and her.

“My lady…?”

“I believe them,” she says. “I want to listen to whatever they have to say.”

“But-”

“That’s an order.” Her tone is final, leaving no room for further argument. You look at her, impressed by her firmness, to which she returns your gaze with a smile. Dehya sighs, gesturing for you to take the lead. 

You lead your party of four (five, including yourself) to the Akademiya, where you’re met with several stares from the students. It’s clear that your odd group doesn’t quite belong here, but perhaps due to the ferocious gaze of Dehya and Arasay, no one dares to say anything. Tighnari leads you to Cyno’s office, where he’s chatting with one of his subordinates. He quirks an eyebrow at your arrival but otherwise ignores you until he’s finished talking. The guard leaves, and Cyno turns to Tighnari. You briefly explain that you’re looking for him and the Scribe, and Tighnari vouches for your trustworthiness. That seems to be all Cyno needs, as he doesn’t ask any further questions and simply leads you to Althaitham’s office.

You knock on the door. 

“Come in,” calls a familiar voice. You open the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Player?” he says, barely glancing up from his paperwork.

You’re floored. “How did you—?”

“How could I not? I’d have to be a fool not to recognize you,” He says, putting his pen down. Dehya bristles, but doesn’t say anything. Alhaitham rises from his seat and beckons you all inside. Once the door is closed, he continues. “Now, then. I take it you have some matter of great importance you want my help with?”

“Yes! So, here’s the the thing...” 

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“You’re…going to rescue the Dendro Archon…?” Everyone gapes at you. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You laugh nervously. 

“Yes! But, um, only if you’re willing to help me. I can’t do it on my own,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“How would you even…?” Dunyarzad murmurs, looking dazed.

“Before I answer that, there’s something else I need to tell you about. You, uh, may want to sit down for this.” Everyone raises an eyebrow, but no one moves to sit. “Please,” you say. Sighing, Tighnari takes a seat on the floor. Cyno joins him soon after. Soon, everyone save for yourself and Arasay have seated themselves, and you begin. 

“How do you know about me?” You ask, looking around. Your gaze settles on Tighnari. 

“We’ve all felt your presence,” he says tentatively, as if worried that may be the wrong answer.

“How?”

“You’ve taken control of several of us,” Cyno says. “And we’ve felt your gaze through the Traveler as well.”

“Aha!” Several people look startled by your exclamation, but you pay them no mind. “That’s wrong. The Traveler never came to Sumeru. You couldn’t have possibly felt me from them. Not to mention, I never took control over any of you before I got to Sumeru,” you say, looking over at them triumphantly.

“What are you…?”

“You shouldn’t know about me,” you say. One by one, you watch with victory as everyone begins to clutch at their heads and lean over. By the time the first one passes out, you’re glad you had the foresight to ask them to sit for this.

You wait for everyone to recover, which thankfully doesn’t take long. “So,” you say, looking over everyone’s faces to make sure they’re lucid. “Here’s the plan: we’re going to reuse your and the Traveler’s plan to free the Dendro Archon.”

“The plan took place on Jnagarbha day,” Alhaitham says. “To fully recreate the plan, we’d have to wait months until-” 

“Forget that,” Arasay says. “The real problem is the Grand Sage, right? He’s the one keeping Buer locked up. Just take him out. Problem solved.” Everyone goes quiet. What an…unexpectedly brutal solution. Though you suppose he is a former Harbinger.

 “Can…can we do that?”

Come to think of it…there are a lot less variables involved now than there were in the original story. The Traveler had to deal with Dottore and Scaramouche, but ‘Scaramouche’ is on your side now, and Dottore is still in Sneznaya. Maybe you don’t have to come up with some big, convoluted plan to take down the Akademiya. Maybe you really can just solve your problems with violence. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” Everyone gapes at you, but you hold firm. “When should we start?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Taking out the Grand Sage was pretty easy. All you had to do was walk into his office and knock him out. From there, you just went up to the Sanctuary of Surathana, once again knocking out whoever stood in your way. 

Finally, you’re here. You can see Nahida sleeping in the giant meditation chamber. You’re so close to freedom that you can practically taste it. But first… 

“Um, so…does anyone know how to deactivate this thing?” You ask sheepishly.

Alhaitham steps up, walking to some mechanism in front of the chamber. He messes with it for a few minutes before the chamber opens up. 

Nahida opens her eyes.

“What’s going on?” 

“I’d like to speak with you alone, if that’s alright,” you say, stepping forward. You glance back at your friends (can you call them that now?). You feel pretty bad about dragging them here just to kick them out, but what you’re about to say needs to remain confidential. Everyone except for Arasay leaves to wait outside. Once you’re sure they’re gone, you begin to explain your situation. You tell Nahida about how you got here, why you left Snezhnaya, and why you saved her. You tell her you’ll help her save Sumeru from forbidden knowledge if she hosts and protects you and Arasay in exchange. Additionally, you promise to her that Arasay will give her special knowledge about the ‘sky’ if she promises not to hand her gnosis to the Fatui. Arasay nearly protests at the mention of this, but one pleading look is all it takes to shut him up. Finally, you finish your story. “Please help us,” you say.

"Okay," she says.

Taglist: @Mmeatt @Shikanosn @Sangoqueenkoko @Vianitry @Lacedribbns @Springkuinn @Clavichordcleffa @starshinesama @kamit-frog @agaygothicmushroom @ash1

#self aware genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin sagau #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere dottore #yandere harbingers

[miguelhugger2099]

Quiet Loving

Summary: Miguel loves you and your little family so much.

A/N: made seconds before I fell asleep last night

In the comfort of your husbands arms, you buried yourself closer—it was never close enough in your opinion.

Miguel shared the same sentiment, his beefy and strong arms were firm around your body, tugging you closer in his lap. One arm around your waist and the other cradling your head in the crook of his neck.

When he held you like this, he felt at peace. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than that it felt right. It felt like it mattered—the only thing that mattered. He leaned into to smell your hair, your signature shampoo scent invading his senses and calming his nerves.

Miguel tightened his embrace around you. You were never close enough.

He loved you dearly. Too much, it was borderline concerning to others but not to you.

Footsteps patted down the stairs of your home. Lifting your head from his neck, Miguel groaned—missing the warmth and weight of you. He felt like half of his puzzle piece was missing.

You looked over to see the culprit of the loud unstable stomps down the steps. Your daughter Gabriella, in her purple pajamas, was holding her baby brother, Isaac. Your eyebrows knit in worry to match her own expression.

“Que pasó, mija?” You call out to her and she stands in front of you and Miguel on the couch. Gabriella bounces Isaac in her arms while he babbles and coughs.

“Zee-Zee woke up and I tried putting him back to sleep but…” She holds the baby out to you when Isaac winds up to start crying.

You quickly take your baby boy in your arms and cradle him to your chest. Miguel carefully shuffles you off his lap and tugs his daughter to him.

“I didn’t…I thought I could help Mami.” She whispers to her father. Miguel gives her a soft smile, reaching up to pat her head before ushering her in his lap.

She crawls into his embrace, resting her back on his chest and her head leans on his shoulder. Miguel brings his arms around his little girl, ignoring how bigger she’s gotten since the last time he held her like this.

“You did help Mami, mijita.” Miguel coos. His hand squeezes her tiny shoulder. “It’s the thought that counts. Did he just wake up?”

Gabriella shakes her head. “He was awake for a bit before I realized he wouldn’t sleep.”

Miguel nods and looks over at you as you held his son in your arms. His heart swells with love and pride. He couldn’t ask for a better woman to be the mother of his kids. He couldn’t ask for a better wife to be married to him. He couldn’t ask for a better person to spend his remaining days with.

“Well, I think you did a pretty good job. He didn’t start crying until he saw Mama right?” Gabriella nods. “That means Isaac knew you were there for him. And you knew to bring him to Mama so when he saw her, he felt safe enough to start crying. You did your part, corazón.”

Gabriella sighs, not feeling convinced. Miguel pokes her chest where a purple star was printed on her pajama shirt.

“And I’ll even ignore the fact that you were supposed to be sleeping.” He whispers next to her ear and Gabriella giggles.

“Sorry, Papi.” She mumbles bashfully and hides in his neck. Miguel’s heart softens. He could never be mad at his princess. His hand pets her hair which lulls her to sleep. She was still at an age where early bedtimes were a must, her little body unable to handle staying awake past 10:30.

“It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret.” He whispers as she yawns and snuggles close to her father, her chubby cheek squished on his firm chest.

You look over and grow amused at the sight. A tough man with scars and hard features, turned into putty when his little girl was curled into a ball in his arms. He always held a soft spot for his firstborn—his princess. Miguel’s eyes meet yours and they brightened. No matter what, however, you held most of the space in his heart—his queen.

“Bed?” You asked him softly as you rocked Isaac in your arms. He nodded and you both got up from the couch to head upstairs to their room. Miguel grunted as he moved Gabriella carefully, tucking his arm underneath her legs to carry her bridal style. Gabriella got even not comfortable and Miguel noticed how heavier she’d gotten. He bites back a smile, a soft twinge of melancholy as he realizes how much she’s growing.

You place Isaac in his crib, making sure to wrap him snuggly in his blanket and surrounding the corners and walls with pillows in case he rolls around. Miguel puts Gabriella down gently in her twin sized bed, tucking her blanket up to her chin and plopping her stuffed teddy bear by her head.

Miguel feels you wrap your arms around his waist, you head between his shoulder blades. Miguel grows goosebumps along his skin and he can’t resist the urge to turn around to face you. He cups your cheeks and leans down to pepper your smiling face with kisses. You stifle giggles, not wanting to wake the children.

“Miggy..!” You whisper to him but he only takes you back into his arms where you belong. The only way to stop him from showering you in his affection was when you physically pulled him off you, your hand ins his hair. He has a dopey grin on his face, a look of utter bliss of just putting his kids to sleep with the woman he loves. The woman he had these beautiful babies with. The woman who gave him these beautiful babies. He could never thank you enough.

Miguel shuts the door behind him, making sure all lights are turned off and double checking that the kids are asleep. Back in your bedroom, Miguel is on you once more. His body weighs on top of yours while he kisses you deeply and lovingly. If you two were younger, it would’ve delved into intimacy—stripping off clothes and having to cover your moans with his hand.

But these kisses were anything but lustful. They were a love letter, a language that only you two understood. Miguel spoke of his admiration for you, not just for your body but for your mind and soul. Each kiss was gentle and left no room for longing when he added another kiss immediately right after the other.

His hands pulled your body up to him. No matter how hard he tried he was always unsatisfied that you weren’t close enough. It was never enough. He wanted to drown in you, worship you and be one with you. Some call him obsessed.

He sighed after one final kiss, but even then his lips lingered above yours. Miguel’s eyes followed each scar you had, each freckle or mole, the color of your lips—oh, he adored it all.

“Te amo, te quiero.” He whispered, hurriedly like he needed you to know even when you already did. He was hopelessly in love with you.

“I love you more.” You whisper back.

“Impossible.”

You smile, knowing that Miguel would always want to win this game of who loved each other more. He was so stubborn it would go on for days. When you relented, he rewarded you with love—kissing you silly until you were breathless. Despite being the “loser”, you always felt like the winner at the end.

Miguel rests on top of you, your hand in his hair as his nose breathes by your neck. Your fingernails scratch his scalp and he hums in delight. His thumb rubs up and down your skin by your stomach. He feels the scars of your stretch marks and the rest of the chub you had gained from pregnancy. You never got a second of doubt in your mind when all Miguel did was remind you how gorgeous you were to him.

He lazily presses more kisses to your neck until he grew too sleepy to move. Miguel had grown comfortable in your arms while you held him and his weight felt nice—especially when he could be switched out with a blanket.

Miguel finally falls into a deep slumber and you follow suit, his hand slowly coming to a stop.

A/N: i feel like if miguel hugged me i wouldn’t be mentally ill 🤔

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 3

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: We're finally heading into the main plot I think lol. Hope y'all like this one, let me know. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

"Casey!" You called, hurriedly walking between the rows of files while looking down at the paperwork in your hands. TVA's library was either your favorite place or the place you hated the most. No in-between. It was your favorite when you stopped by to lounge in the armchairs and read your books in the calming silence. But when you had to traverse between the cramped shelves in search of files, that's when you hated it.

"Casey?" You called again, still turning the pages with a frown on your face.

"Yeah, what's up?"

The sudden voice caught your attention and you raised your head just in time to not walk straight into your friend. You chuckled to yourself, coming to stand beside him in the small space between the tall shelves. "I was going through this report and it mentions a code 581, I've never heard that one before." With your finger, you pointed to the underlined letters on the report.

"Oh, that's a fun one," Casey smiled, taking the papers from your hands, "it's kind of a rare case actually, it's when two variants appear simultaneously…"

While you spoke with Casey, all the way on the other side of TVA's weirdly shaped building, and one floor above, stood Mobius with Loki by his side; both of them leaning on the railings and observing you from afar.

"How long did you say she's been here?" Loki asked, his eyes never leaving your form. His face had a complicated expression, almost as if he was still figuring out how to feel about actually seeing you, the same girl from the life he was supposed to have.

"I didn't, I said that time passes differently here in the TVA," Mobius spoke beside him, his eyes slowly shifting between you and Loki. "But, if I had to guess I'd say the equivalent of around two years."

It's been a couple of weeks since Loki arrived, and in his time here he's been quite helpful for the TVA; not enough to catch the rogue variant, but enough to earn his end of the bargain.

"Is it a habit of yours to keep variants around then?" Loki turned to Mobius with a raised brow.

"Not at all," Mobius chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You two are the only ones so far, and you can thank me for that, by the way."

Loki pursed his lips as he shifted his gaze back to you. He watched as you spoke with Casey, huge smile on your lips as you gestured around saying something he couldn't understand. "Why keep her?" He asked quietly.

Mobius sighed, following the path of Loki's gaze toward you. "Same reason as you, pretty much. She was very... familiar with the Loki from her timeline and I figured she could be of help to us. At first, she was a very tough nut to crack, but it was either that or be pruned so eventually, she agreed, and has helped capture many Loki variants in her time here."

A scoff went past Loki's lips. His hands gripped the railings tighter, heartbeat quickening with each passing second that brought him closer to meeting you. Why he felt this way, he couldn't tell; it was as if his body knew something he didn't. "And, by her timeline, you mean my timeline as well?"

"Technically, yes."

─── ·❆· ───

"Thank you, Casey, I'll see you at lunch," you gave your friend a small wave as you turned to go in opposite directions. The ghost of a smile lingered on your lips as you closed the file's folder, but it faded immediately as soon as you looked up.

Mobius stood in front of you, he said your name but it sounded like a whisper drowned underwater to your ears, for you were focused on the person a few steps behind him. He had the same raven black curls, the same sharp nose, fair skin, and bright eyes; his features being highlighted by the artificial lights from TVA's infinite floors. He was a ghost. The one from your worst nightmares and most beautiful dreams. A ghost of your past life, one that instantly got your heartbeat skyrocketing and closed up your throat until you couldn't breathe, or talk, or even think.

You were nearly making holes into the file in your hands with the force you held it with, knuckles going white.

Taking a step closer, Mobius called your name again. He tried reaching out towards you but you took a sharp step back. "There's someone who would like to meet you," he settled for saying, calmly, gesturing behind him.

Forming words became a struggle for you. Your lips parted only to tremble with no sound coming from your mouth. Inhaling sharply, you straightened your posture. "No." You said with finality, your eyes not leaving the ones that reminded you of your Loki.

A frown appeared on his features and he looked like he was about to speak, but you beat him to it, finally looking at Mobius; "You. Me. Storage room, now."

With that, you turned around and took urgent steps to the back of the library, shoving open the door that led to a small storage room for older files no one needed anymore. You turned the switch for the single orange light hanging from the ceiling and then clawed at your scalp, trying your best to regulate your breathing.

Mobius walked in, closing the door behind him. "Listen I can-"

"Explain?" You finished for him, urgency and anger dripping from each syllable, "yeah, you better. What was that? Who is he?"

"We were about to get to that before you stormed off." Mobius shrugged.

"Cut the bullshit, Mobius," you sighed, hands coming to rest on your waist.

"He's a Loki, you've met a hundred of them already."

You bit your lip to hold back the tears stinging behind your eyes. "Yeah, I have, and none of them were-" you hesitated, "None of them looked like-" You swore under your breath when your voice betrayed you.

"Your Loki?"

Mobius' quiet words got you closing your eyes, there was compassion in his voice, being one of the only people here who really knew what you've been through. A long sigh escaped your lips, along with some of the anger, leaving room only for the emptiness that has been following you around for years now.

"Is he?" You were afraid to know, but you asked anyway.

"He was going to be," Mobius took a step closer to you, and this time you allowed him to rest a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress shirt. "He came from your timeline, roughly after his attempt at taking over earth."

An unamused chuckle escaped your lips and a single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away. "Jesus, Mobius. You can't be serious." You looked him straight in the eyes then, voice strained; "you can't be doing this to me."

"He insisted," Mobius raised both hands in front of his chest in a halfhearted attempt to calm you down. "He insisted, okay? He saw you in his file, he wanted to know who you were. What was I supposed to do? He saw you and didn't know who you were but it was clear that you were important, and he felt that too."

A beat of silence passed, and then; "I mean," Mobius chuckled softly, shaking his head; "you should have seen his eyes when he saw you, he looked worse than you do now."

You sniffled, avoiding your teary eyes from his gaze. "What were you supposed to do? Well, what about talking to me first, you oaf," you told him, though there was no malice in your words.

"I'm sorry," Mobius shrugged, not sure of what else he could say to you. "I just figured it wouldn't be fair to either of you if I didn't introduce you. Or, reintroduced you."

You doubted you'd be able to form a coherent thought in your mind right now with the amount of emotions you were going through. But you knew he was right, deep down you did. You just weren't sure what to make of it yet, seeing a Loki who would eventually become your Loki; who, essentially, was your Loki. Just not yet.

It nearly sent you into a panic attack. Seeing him again was all you ever wanted when you lost him, yet now that it's happening, you're not sure if you can handle it. Or if you still want it.

Mobius tried to find your gaze with his, and as if reading your mind, he said; "Isn't this what you wanted when you first got here? To see him again?"

"That's not me anymore, Mobius," you spoke before you could stop yourself. "I'm- I'm not that person anymore." Your voice was quiet, muffled behind the walls you'd built around your wounded heart. "Besides, that's-" You stumbled over your words, tasting your tears on the corner of your lips, "that's not him. That's not the Loki I knew."

"How can you say that, you didn't even speak to the guy," Mobius gestured to Loki's general direction outside of the storage room.

"Yeah well, I don't have to!" You snapped, and closed your mouth soon after, mumbling an apology. "I just- He's not him," you said quieter, almost as if saying it again and again would make it true.

"Maybe not yet," Mobius reasoned, pursing his lips as he mulled over unsaid words; "But he is, otherwise he wouldn't have seen his future with you. You know that."

You buried your hands in the pockets of your pants because you could feel how heavily they were shaking. You bit your lip until you tasted blood. "I can't. I'm sorry, Mobius, but I can't. You tell him I want nothing to do with him." The words rolled off your tongue quickly and strained, you didn't give Mobius time to answer you before you were shoving open the door of the storage room and rushing outside.

From the side of your eyes, as you walked, you noticed Loki leaning against one of the file shelves. He perked up when he saw you, straightening his posture and softening his gaze as he took half a step towards you.

You didn't spare him a second glance before turning your back to him and hurrying to the opposite way.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 4 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @lokihaha34 @levanneisdumb @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage @princess-ofthe-pages @daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

[wumblr]

the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)

not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)

anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear

it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced

so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry

#house of leaves

[thecynthh]

end game - M.S

synopsis - through matt and y/n’s life both of them never thought they would be hooking up, but what happens when everyone finds out about them and it blows up in their face.

2.6k words

notes - IM NOT HATING ON MADI I JUST NEEDED SOMEONE TO USE FOR STORY PURPOSES. (im her biggest fan dont cancel me)

(synopsis for a new series that i’m working on is featured)

this is for @annamcdonalds67 contest!! i saw the post and saw how many taylor swift songs were there and this was one of my favourite ones out there and i got insanely inspired. please share some love to anna as well bc she deserves it for organizing this !

warnings - smut->angst, small matt sub, riding, oral (fem receiving), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, badboy!matt x goodgirl!reader

for lacysturniolo and her amazing work and dedication to her fans, i’ll look up to you, forever and always

-

matt barely made it through the door before his arms were strangling me in a death inducing kiss. in my whole 17, almost 18, years of life i never expected in my life did i think my childhood best friend would be the one crushing me with his lips. we’ve both dated around but through it all we ended up here.

“fuck, matt” the breathy name escapes from my mouth feeling him move down to my neck leaving stinging hickeys with his talented mouth. “god im glad your parents aren’t here, don’t think my good kid image would keep up if they heard you.”

“you’re so inappropriate matt” my eyes roll listening to him rub in how much my parents love matt. “come on, i don’t like the idea of you fucking me on any other surface than in my room especially in my parents house.”

“whatever you say princess,” the small smirk he’s always had since he was 12 still looms over me as i lead him towards the grand staircase. he followed very close behind me keeping his arms and mouth on my neck.

it doesn’t take long till he’s holding my arms above my head with his fingers intertwined with mine. “matt, fuck, please can you just fuck me now.”

“you don’t get to be impatient, you called.”

“and you came.”

“you are about to as well.” i wanted to wipe that smirk clean off his face if his body didn’t feel so right pressed up against mine.

we haven’t told anyone about us yet, not even nick or chris. we both knew it would only make things worse, and i was alright with keeping it a secret. i’ve spent enough of my closeted and innocent. I'm a teenager, teens are supposed to do this type of thing. teens may hook up but maybe not with their childhood best friends

his mouth trailed down from my neck, to my sternum, all the down to between my thighs before he yanked my legs down to come closer to the edge of the bed.

3RD PERSON POV

matt’s hands never seem to have left y/n's body, exploring every last inch of her body. her arms, legs and heart were his. matt spends no time wasted connecting his lips to her clothed heat, within seconds she’s shimming her pants and underwear off.

there was a small knock on the door with an awaiting friend, madi was there to meet up with y/n to pick up the homework she had missed that day. without an answer from the door, madi looks around the house through windows and cracks in the blinds.

only seeing a light shown through from the living room, she wanders off to the balcony and fire escape on the side of the house. it was only a flight of stairs and a half till madi was on par with the balcony, it was a short climb till she was onto the balcony. the only thing blocking madi and the couple was a transparent creme coloured cloth with embroidered rose accents.

y/n’s loud moans escaped flooding her bedroom, escaped through the window. the curtains sway giving madi an opening to see matt fully down on her friend and her enjoying it. madi’s mouth gapes open as ashe slides her phone out of her pocket.

the camera app opens quickly as she swipes to record.

the small blip of her phone pipes up as she capturns the full scene on camera, the summer sunset gave a yellow glow to the recording. matt rips off his shirt with one arm dipping right back to y/n’s core.

madi’s only thought was to share it to her best friend, nick. little did she know nick wasn’t the only one she sent it to, but her homework group. madi continued to record through the small slit of the window.

science 4 group

madi 🩷

* view one attachment *

HOLY SHIT LOOK MATT AT Y/N’S HOUSE!!!!

Y/N’S POV

“matt, matt, matt” the release came to me in an instant. “come on baby girl, you did so well. you ready?” the sound of his belt come undone only made me hotter. before another word could be exchanged i grab his shoulder pulling him down to the bed rolling on top of him.

“i’ll ride you till your dick is limp and your begging me to stop.” matt’s reaction only made me feel even more aroused. “anything for you baby,” matt said copying my tone of voice.

stationing my legs on either side of his i bend down to kiss him, pressing my pebbled nipples onto his bare skin, slowly grinding down onto his raging hard on.

his whines only intensify the burning seer of his skin touching mine. my hand follows in suit with my hips feeling every last vein of his dick through his boxers. “a-ah!” matt whines due to me pressing my finger into his slit.

pushing his boxers down his dick springs out slapping against his happy trail. “please please please y/n please.”

“please what, pretty boy?” i mock feeling the surge of power flow through me.

“please fuck me,” he whimpered out. for such a bad boy exterior, he sure doesn’t act like it now.

without waiting another second for him to say something else i sink down onto his throbbing dick feeling him fill me up so well. “mhhm, matty you feel so good.”

“ugh, only for you b-baby.” matt’s barely keeping it together, while i bounce up and down on his cock. speeding up every second. i begin to grind onto his pelvis as i slam down onto him with his body slightly grazing my clit in the best way possible.

“matty, im a-about to c-cum. do it with me.” his hands sneak onto my love handles as i lean up against him again, he attaches his mouth to my nipple that was dangling in front of him. his hips snap up and down, pushing insanely deep inside me. “m-matt!” a loud pornographic moan comes out of my mouth feeling the knot in my stomach break, feeling a huge relief. he follows soon after letting out a guttural grunt.

i roll down beside him, both of our deep breaths fill the room. “fuck, oh my god.” i breathed out, heaving my chest. i turn to face him, putting my hand against his chest and my head onto the arm that was stretched out near me. my curtains move and sway with the blow of my fan as i see a shadow fall off of my window, it must've just been an animal.

“i don’t think i can walk,” i confess feeling him look over to me. my hand travels to feel his scruff that he’s been growing out the past few weeks, it’s never gotten that long but it’s still very apparent. “hmm, lemme take care of you okay? we can even get mcdonald’s, im fine driving out to the further one if you're scared of people to see us.” he combs his hand through my hair, tugging a little relieving some heat and pressure my head has collected.

he pushes himself up and goes to the bathroom, turning on the shower and coming back to retrieve me.

-

this whole day it felt like people were staring at me left and right, i haven’t even been in the building for more than 20 minutes and i’ve had three people quickly lose eye contact with me when they were the one staring first.

i haven’t matt yet but i was really hoping we would be able to meet up at our usual spot, im snapped out of my trances feeling someone's hand on my shoulder squeezing it a little. i jump a little whipping my head towards the rest of the hands body, thank goodness it’s just nick. “babes, we gotta talk.” he said in a monotone voice, “why what’s up?”

“just give me a second, stop moving.” i listen to him and stop in my tracks seeing nothing wrong with today but the staring. “okay now what happened last night,” nick said now holding me down with both hands.

“well if you must know, my parents are out of town, like you knew and i stayed home studying before going out for mcdonald’s.” the lie slipped out from my mouth with ease hoping to keep matt and my secret a secret for a little longer.

“okay then maybe it isnt that serious…” nick trailed off, his shoulders were very visibly tense, not letting off since he caught up to me. “what are you talking about? but come on lemme at least go to my locker.” he reluctantly let’s go knowing i’m stronger than him.

“y/n wait– just know i have no clue if its true or if it's even you.” he says following in suit with me. “nick, still no clue what you are talking about.” my locker lock clicks a few times before i'm able to get it open.

a large barrage of papers fall out of my locker all having the same image pasted on them. my mouth drops open as i turn my head to nick. he picks one up from the top of my locker, unfolding it and making a sour face to it. “what? what is it?”

he slowly hands it to me, folding it back up before i get ahold of it.

my heart dropped.

it was a grainy picture of me riding matt last night, his hands on my hips and my face looking at him with pure lust. it was taken through my window and luckily you couldn’t see much of matt’s face and next to none of mine. but people knew, everyone knew it was me.

picking up a few other copies, some of them have the words slut and whore written on them in large words. if they printed a picture it must’ve been everywhere online, i cannot stand being here another minute.

stuffing a couple copies into my bag i storm out of the building feeling tears stinging my eyes, y/n how could you let this happen? what’s going to happen when harvard finds out about this? there goes your life, your friends, your boyfriend and your future. quadruple kill.

i sit in my car and just drive, drive to the only place that’ll bring me any kind of peace at this time. it was only a 3 minute drive from the school to the large forest that surrounded the school. i parked my car on the slightly wet gravel, hearing the crunch of the rocks beneath the tires.

i walked and walked till the trees seemed to clear a bit, the grass was wet and squished under my shoes. brunette hair peaks from behind a tree, it was like the picture was being painted in front of me this whole time. matt came here too, he came to where we met the first time.

he stumbled into the forest after getting chased by a couple of guys once he tried to start a fight.

something brushed by the bushes alerting me, a boy in an oversized hoodie over his stained red white tee. jeans scuffed and a little dirty as he flops down on the grass in front of me. i can hear him panting as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

he tilts his head to finally see me, i still sit there frozen with my book in hand slowly reaching for my keys being cautious incase he tries to go for me next. “i see, you know. im not gonna hurt you. i would never hit a girl.” his words are slow and very unconvincing. “do you talk? he asked, glancing at me again. he finally sat up and came closer to me, my hand clutches the house keys even harder as he steps plop in front of me.

his body collides with the tree as he sits next to me, his sweet and salty cologne fills my senses, feeling it cloud my thoughts. he takes the book from my hands and closes it looking around at it.

“everything has changed by cynthia atlan, we crave love so much we would trade anything for it, including ourselves. caleb and cam grew up together, had their first kiss together but still haven’t thought about getting together. when highschool life takes a horrible turn the two become separated and distant, caleb doesn’t wanna let cam go but life takes turns and loops. how are they able to navigate hormones, relationships and life? sounds like a hoot.” his sarcastic voice says otherwise.

“this caleb guy doesn’t sound like he really deserved her huh…” he flips through the pages quickly glancing at a couple words per page.

“well, i guess i should go, but i’ll see you around here i hope.” his smile beamed brightly as he pushed himself up and looked back at me.

“hm, maybe” it comes out almost as a whisper. his face lights up as he takes my words as an accomplishment. “yeah, i’ll see you around here, tomorrow.”

he never gave me my book back before he left and i didn’t even realise it. i guess that’s one way to make me come back

“matt?” i get out between choked sobs. i didn’t even need to see his red eyes and face to tell he’s also been crying.

he peered over to where i was looking up and down before attempting to wipe away his tears and sadness. i didn’t think twice before joining him.

his brown hair is tousled by him running his hand through it many times and his tear stained eyes tell more than what he wished.

“y/n i-i’m so s-sorry.” his tears spilt once more making any effort of wiping them away futile. he wrapped his arms around something and hugged it tight. it was my book he stole from me when we first met. “i’m so so so fucking sorry i’m such an idiot.”

“matt, please it wasn’t your fault. but i am terrified, i don’t want to ever go back to school.” my voice cracks while trying to get through that sentence. matt doesn’t even utter another word before he tugs me into him, straddling him as he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.

“i’m so sorry y/n, i didn’t wanna face anyone after i left. when i walked in everyone was applauding and people shook my hand, i had no clue why until chris and nick texted me about it.”

his pure sincerity makes me suffocate him a little more not wanting anyone else around but him. he puts a hand around my cheek guiding it to him to kiss, i get a good look of his equally dishevelled face.

“we are so fucked.” i giggle a little thinking about how much a shit show this will be when we get back.

“is this what they mean in everything has changed that high school life would take a bad turn? because i’m happy to go through it if it means we get our happy ending. you’re my end, end game.”

“yes matt, this is everything. we are the happy ending. we are end game” my quivering lips connect with his.

#sturniolo triplets #syn speaks #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #smut #sturniolos #Spotify

[baby-yongbok]

A Feeling

Boyfriend!Bang Chan × Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst with a pinch of sugar at the end

Summary: There's a feeling in your chest that you can't seem to shake.

Warnings: Mentions of betrayal, Themes of cheating, Drinking, Broken Glass, Name calling. (I think this is it, let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: Happy Birthday Dear Chrisssss, Happy Birthday to you! + I've been having some issues with writing due to my health so I hope that this piece is good lol I got approval from my best friend and I trust her so here you go! This is one of the many posts that I'll be making for Our Leaders birthday so be on the look out!

✨Masterlist✨

The sting of bourbon flooded your throat as you threw back yet another shot. What was supposed to be a date night with Chris turned into you ordering a meal for one and him staying late at the company to fix a sudden studio mistake.

It wasn't the fact that your date night got canceled that bothered you, it was something else. It was a feeling that lingered in your chest. A feeling that something was wrong. You couldn't quite put your finger on it and the more you wondered the closer you got to finishing half a bottle of bourbon by yourself.  At this point you might as well wait for Chris to get home. It's about three in the morning now so he should be home any -

"Baby?" Your boyfriend's voice startled you out of your deep thoughts. "What are you still doing up?" 

"I kinda got… stuck. And then I got the bourbon out and ended up a little drunk.. so put the two together and you get this." Motioning towards yourself hunched over in the barstool you sigh.  "I couldn't shake this feeling..." 

"Are you sober enough to talk about it?" Stalking towards you slowly, Chris takes the empty seat next to yours.  

"Maybe it's best if I'm not sober for this? Maybe it'll make it easier to ask you and depending on the answer I wouldn't mind having it be harder to remember."

Confusion consumes his features as he leans forward, crossing both of his arms on the kitchen island "What could possibly be bothering you this much, babygirl?"

"I feel like.. there's something you have to tell me. I feel like today, something happened and you need to tell me but you aren't sure about it." Chris perks up a bit as you explain yourself to him. "If my feelings are correct then I need you to tell me what it is right now. Cause I can't sleep with this in my chest."

Running his hand over his face he covers his mouth for a second as he takes in all that you've said.

"Chris?" He looks up at you, directly into your eyes. "What is it?"

With a heavy sigh Chris squeezes his eyes shut as he prepares to speak. "Your friend… you know how you asked me to get Michelle a job at the company?" You shake your head as you follow his story. " Well ever since she started working there she's been.. suspiciously enthusiastic to see me. I thought that maybe she was just grateful that I got her the job and decided not to read too much into it"

Sighing, Chris runs both of his hands over his face and then looks down at the marble of the island. "Today, she went with us to assist with the Hilfiger shoot, she was just there to help make sure that it all went smoothly. Everything seemed perfectly normal until we were in the vans on our way home. I sat in the back and she made it her mission to sit next to me even though she was supposed to be in the other van. She was quiet for a bit, just listening to me Han and Felix talk until she suddenly tapped me and started talking about fate. She said that she's been waiting for an opportunity to get closer to me and this job has given her that." 

He pauses as he takes a second to read your body language. You couldn't hide how tense you are even if you wanted to. Your first instinct was to explode before he could even finish his story. You wanted to call him a liar for saying that Michelle, your best friend since preschool, would say such a thing to him but sadly you knew he wasn't lying. After being with him for three years you've learned how to tell when he’s hiding something from you. 

"I told her that I didn't understand. I told her that she knows I'm with you and I'm happy in this relationship. I told her that I only got her the job because you asked me to. She proceeded to talk about how much she... how much she liked me and then she told me that watching me during the shoot turned her on... then she, she uh.. she kissed me." 

You urgently sat up in your seat as you imagined just what he said. There's no way that Michelle would do that to you… right?  "And I pushed her away immediately, as soon as I processed the feeling I panicked and Han saw it all."

Quietly, you start to piece together everything that Chris just put out in the open. There’s no way that Michelle would never betray you like that. The two of you are partners in crime, you love each other, you respect each other.  

"Michelle -" You pause, your buzzing thoughts making it more difficult to complete your sentence..  "She wouldn’t -" 

You attempt to process the information over and over, the fuzziness that the bourbon’s caused making it a bit hard to piece it all together clearly but you know that it's true. It’s obvious that Chris isn't lying. He scratches the back of his neck when he's lying and on top of that, he has no reason to tell a lie about Michelle.

 "That fucking skank" Your glass shatters on the kitchen floor as a storm of anger closes in on your senses. You stumble to your feet and go straight for your cell on the kitchen counter.  

"Y/n" Chris swiftly stalks after you, grabbing your waist from behind. 

"Fucking let go of me." You fight his hold but all it does is make him hold onto you tighter. 

"You're drunk, if you're going to call her, do it tomorrow." You continue to fight him, the rage you felt was only enhanced by the bourbon and you knew that, yet you couldn't find it in you to calm the storm in your chest

"How could she do this shit?" 

"Baby, please calm down." He drags you down to the kitchen floor and pulls you into his lap. To you, it felt like you were still fighting but you were still now, being cradled by Chris as you sobbed into his chest. The transition was unbeknownst to you, it was so sudden.  

"How could she do that to me? She knows…" Chris shushes you as he strokes your hair. His thumb softly rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin of your thigh. 

"She knows you're mine." 

"I'm sorry, I was never going to keep this from you. I just didn't know.. I didn't know how to tell you. I was going to give it till the morning." 

"Did you like it.."

"What?" Looking down at you with furrowed brows Chris’ grip on you loosens just for it to tighten again.  "No, no I didn't. I pushed her away. I immediately felt… dirty and scared.. scared that she'd cost me your trust, scared that you'd freak out so badly that you'd hate me for even saying anything. I hated every second of it and I hate every second of this feeling that it left me with. I love you, Y/n. I've never wanted anything with anyone else and that includes Michelle."

Silence envelopes the two of you as he holds you and you him.  The situation at hand was looming slowly around the two of you. You're almost positive that Chris will call Han in the morning to confirm everything that he told you. And you'll call Michelle and ask her why the fuck she thought this was okay.  

"We should get you some water then into bed, it’s late" Slowly you nod your head to agree with him but before you can stand Chris scoops you up in his arms bridal style and stands. " I don't want you hurting yourself on the glass." 

You look down at the shattered shot glass on the kitchen floor then back up at Chris. He’s watching you with soft eyes, a weak smile pulling at his lips. A surge of desire washes over you and you can't help what happens next. Grabbing his face with both of your hands you kiss him hard and passionate. He kisses you back with the same hunger allowing your energies to mix in a delicious and raw display of passion. As his lips tangle with yours he takes a couple steps back, away from the mess on the kitchen floor. You can hear the crack beneath his shoe as he steps on a piece of stray glass. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, grabbing some of it and pull slightly at the roots. A moan slips from his lips and it drives you over the edge.  

"Please." You both are panting as you pull away and plead for him. " Please, I need you."

"You're drunk." He looks down at you with sad yet lust flooded eyes.  You can tell it's killing him to deny you of your desire. "Trust me, I want to but you're wasted and not even two minutes ago you were angry and crying...Right now you only want me to prove that she can’t, ask me again tomorrow and I won't hesitate" 

"Okay." The Silence comes back to hug you both as he carries you into your shared bedroom and sits you onto the bed.  

"I'm gonna get you some water and clean up that glass. You should shower and change into something for bed." He kisses you on your cheek and you watch him as he walks away. His black t-shirt and joggers fit him beautifully and you couldn't help but resent him for it just a bit. You don’t move, your thoughts are running too wild for you to think about doing anything else besides calling Michelle and yelling every profanity that you can think of at her. You almost don’t notice Chris come back into the room with a bottle of water in hand and confusion written on his features.

“Are you going to shower?” You look up at him with your glazed eyes, searching his features for the right answer but it’s no use. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper and Chris takes a step towards you, Standing in front of you and gently guiding your head to rest on his stomach. You sigh at the contact, taking in his gentle touch.

“Maybe we’ll just call it a night? Shower in the morning.” You nod your head lazily as a tear runs down your cheek and soaks into the cotton of his shirt.

“You’re mine, right?” He pulls back from you a bit to see your face. He cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. 

“All yours, only yours.” His eyes stay on yours, a soft and loving gaze that you know holds nothing but the truth. You shake your head slightly, grinning a bit. 

“You promise?” He returns your grin before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I promise.”

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x y/n #bangchan skz #bangchan #bang christopher chan #chris bang #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan fanfic #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x you #christopher bang #bang chris #bang chan skz #bang chan stray kids #bang chan fluff #bang chan au #bang chan angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: stalker/ unsuccessful kidnap, violence, depictions of blood and assault (let me know if I should add more)

Chapter Word Count: 2318

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sooooo I’m sorry it’s not spicy like I said it would be… But I absolutely promise the next one will be! Chapters 5 and 6 were supposed to be just one chapter but it got too long so I had to split it… And again please let me know of any errors because this is only proof read by myself.

——————————————————————

Please Read the Below First:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I’m Not You’re F*cking Maid

Chapter 5

After thorough interviewing of the staff and regular patrons; long searches through copious auction records and meticulous studying of the items in the shop we narrowed our search down to one item: an old jade hairpin. The hairpin belonged to a young lady who was given the gift as a wedding present, however when she found out on her wedding night that her new husband was having an affair, she stabbed him to death with it before jumping to her own demise from their third floor balcony. That was just over a century ago, and she was still wreaking havoc on unfaithful men to this day.

“I mean I get where she’s coming from,” I shrugged as we walked back to the motel. Both brothers turned to look at me with concern smeared over their features. “OBVIOUSLY I don’t agree with all the murder,” they breathed a sigh of relief, “but you can’t hate her for being mad. I would be too.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows a little and holding his hands up. I gave him a look of bewilderment.

“What side do you think you’re on, Dean? Because this,” I gestured between us, “isn’t my good side.” He mumbled something incoherent as we got to the motel so I chose to ignore him completely.

“So what’s the plan? It’s getting late and we can’t really do anything now until that charity event taking place at the auction house tomorrow. We’re already pretty clued up on how to get rid of ghosts so there’s really not much to do except to get both your names on that guest list,” Sam patted his laptop, looking at both of us.

“Food?” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Food sounds good,” Sam nodded. The boys turned around to leave when I stopped them.

“Just whilst we’re still at the motel, I’m just going to freshen up real quick.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “really?” I flipped him the bird.

“I can just meet you there? There’s like only one diner in this town and I know the way. I won’t be long.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Sam looked at me and smiled.

“Sure ok, we’ll get a seat in the window so we can see you coming.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” I grinned at the younger Winchester before turning away and letting myself into my room.

I had the worlds quickest shower and threw on some clean underwear and a clean top, feeling better after getting the grime from the day off. I pulled on my jeans, socks and boots, applied a small amount of eyeliner and mascara and tidied my hair the best I could before slinging on my jacket and applying some perfume to my wrists and neck. It was one of my favourite scents: I’d bought it from some lingerie store a year or so ago and it’s apparently one of those aphrodisiac perfumes, however I have no idea if it even works or not. It’s probably a scam, nothing works that well in real life.

After I’d finished sorting myself out - which took no longer than half an hour - I grabbed my phone and keys and left the room, locking up before making my way towards the diner. Night had descended, the air turning cold against my warm skin and the usually busy streets now lay deserted and car-free. It was only about a five minute walk or so from the motel and I was now only about a minute away when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. I’d caught a glimpse of a figure dressed from head to toe in black in the reflection of several shop windows, and they were following my exact trail. I sped up, walking faster down the empty main road and hoping it was all a coincidence as worst case scenarios started to race through my mind. It wasn’t long until the diner was in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief, however the relief was short lived when those footsteps were getting closer and closer, quicker and quicker right behind me. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a coincidence at all - I was definitely being stalked. I started to run, my legs moving before my brain had kicked into gear and I was only inches from the front door when the stranger caught up, slamming me against the wall of the building and putting a knife to my throat, covering my mouth with a gloved hand.

“Don’t make a fucking noise - you’re coming with me,” he said aggressively yet quietly. I could feel the blade of the knife pressing against the soft skin of my neck and I couldn’t help but feel tears well in my eyes, my breath turning shaky as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t even get any words out as his hand was too tight over my lips.

I wanted to cry out for help so badly it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this was all a bad dream. My cheek was pushed into the rough brick which grazed my skin, and I silently prayed for my attacker to just let me go or for some hero to come and save me. At that very moment I heard the door to the diner and my eyes shot open, instantly connecting with Deans. I watched as surprise turned to horror which then turned to pure feral rage on his face and before I even had a chance to blink he was gone from my line of sight - but so was the pressure keeping me pinned against the wall. I spun around and I watched Dean throw the stalker to the floor with more force that I thought he could muster and tower over him. Dean didn’t say a word, but the stranger let out a sharp cry of pain as Dean instantly brought his boot down on his ribs. There was a CRACK. He did it again.

And again.

And again.

And then he got down and pinned my attacker flush against the tarmac before he brought a closed fist down on his face over and over and over again, cracking his jaw and breaking his nose. Dean didn’t stop until the man was totally unrecognisable and unresponsive. Standing up off of his limp body, he looked over to me, his furious, almost animalistic stare softening instantly, even through all the blood that now painted his face. He took one step towards me before my feet worked on their own and carried me straight to him. I put my arms out to reach for him and he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest with zero hesitation, his arms circling me and his blood-soaked palms gently stroking my hair. I sobbed. I sobbed from the fear I felt, I sobbed for feeling like such a victim and I sobbed for the relief I now felt flooding my veins as Dean held me, not saying a word. Listening to his heartbeat with my ear to his chest, I felt so safe and secure that it made me want to sob even more.

*

Dean ended up taking me straight back to my room - he called Sam to tell him what had happened as he wasn’t going to be returning to the diner. I had my second shower of the day as soon as we returned, wanting to scrub everywhere that horrible man had touched. Whilst I was washing, Dean had headed back to his own room to shower off the layer of blood coating his skin. After I was satisfactorily clean, I dried myself and dressed in that old T-shirt I wore the night before, pulling on some fresh underwear and perching on the end of the bed. I picked up the remote and started mindlessly flicking through channels, hoping to find something to distract my racing brain.

I’d been sitting in the same position for around ten minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. I held my breath as I got up and walked over, looking through the peephole. It was Dean. I released that breath as I opened the door and let him in. He’d changed from his usual gruff attire to something way more comfortable - a plain white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He smiled at me. A kind smile, nothing like those teasing and sly ones we’d been throwing at each other since yesterday. This one was genuine, and it made my chest feel warm. He locked the door behind him as I padded back over to the bed and climbed on it, sitting right in the centre with my legs crossed. I pulled the T-shirt down to cover my dignity as Dean placed a carrier bag in front of me. I peeked inside. It was full to the brim of all different types of snacks and I grinned up at him.

“You sure do know how to treat a girl, Winchester.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked down at the floor before taking residence beside me.

“You’re the first one who thinks so”.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s a long line of women who definitely think otherwise,” he smiled a slightly sad smile. We both paused before I continued.

“Well if it means anything, what you did for me today, I-” he held a hand up to stop me as he saw the look of fear flit across my features again, the horrid memory bubbling to the surface.

“It was the least I could do,” he said softly before his brows furrowed, “but to be honest I should never have let you out of my sight.” The almost protective tone of his voice made my heart flutter a little, but It was my turn to reassure him as I placed my hand on his shoulder delicately.

“Dean, none of us knew that would happen. I know you wouldn’t have left me alone if you genuinely thought I was in danger - after all, you DID promise to keep me safe from my own shadow,” I flashed him a grin which he quickly returned, chuckling. We sat for a few moments in a strangely comfortable silence before there was another knock at the door. I went to get up to answer it but Dean beat me to it, swinging it open to show a very concerned Sam stood in the doorway. He looked at me with those big ever-worried eyes and I shot him my best ‘please don’t worry’ grin.

“I’m fine, Sam” I called out to him as I tried to listen in on the hushed words Dean was speaking. They conversed for a while, occasionally throwing glances at me as I rustled around in the bag of goodies Dean had supplied. Growing bored of not being involved with their conversation, I scooted back on the bed to lean back on the headboard and proceeded to flick through dozens of channels until I found something decent to watch. A few more minutes had passed and I’d munched my way through almost half a bag of Doritos when I heard the door close and it was just me and Dean again. He had a paper bag that Sam must’ve passed him, which he held up and pointed to.

“The blood stains came out of my clothes, although Sam said the people in the laundromat were giving him strange looks,” he laughed slightly, those striking eyes of his looking down into mine as he took a few steps closer. I laughed slightly, only imagining Sam’s awkwardness in that situation. I broke my gaze away from Dean for a few seconds, looking down at my hands before looking back up. I could tell he was hovering now, just waiting for me to say something.

“Dean I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if you need me to” his hand ran over the stubble on his chin, his eyes not leaving me.

“Really, I’m ok. I’m probably just going to sit here and watch whatever this is-”

“It’s obviously Men in Black,” Dean scoffed. I smiled, finding comfort in the familiar snarky remark.

“Obviously - I don’t live under a rock Dean,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up, placing my hands on his chest. He was so warm to the touch that it was almost enticing me not to let go. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat was so soothing. But I did let go, and I spun him around to start ushering him to the door. As he was leaving, I grabbed my half eaten bag of chips and started munching again. He opened the door, stepping outside.

“Go back to your room Dean. I promise I’m ok. I don’t want you both hovering over me constantly making sure I’m fine; that will just make me feel worse,” I said as he spun to face me, nodding his head.

“Back to normal. Got it.”

“Great,” I said, sucking the tangy chip dust from my thumb. Dean suddenly reached out and snatched the half-eaten bag from my hand before quickly walking away.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” He shouted back at me before shovelling food into his mouth.

“You ass! I was eating those!” He shrugged in an overly animated fashion, not bothering to turn and look at me as he continued towards his room. I sighed, closing the door and locking it, sliding the chain across this time too. I padded back towards the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I started to drift off, the buzz of the movie still playing in the background, I smiled a little to myself:

Fucking Winchester.

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Up Next:

Chapter 6

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn

[miraclewoozi]

HIGH FIDELITY, PT 1. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

pair ; vernon x fem!reader.  content ; strangers to lovers.  up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.   fluff, angst, parts two and three will contain suggestive themes and smut. (MINORS DNI).  warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage.  wc ; 13.5k ( ~35k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

“What do you mean, no?”

Your best friend and longest standing employee Seungkwan turns his head away from the customer he’s serving to look at you with filth in his eyes. Unsurprisingly, his features don’t soften when you double down on your response to him.

“I mean, no,” you laugh. “I’m running on fumes, dude. I’m not going. No way.”

“But…” he whines, putting down the record in his hands. “No, come on. I told you about this weeks ago. You’re really gonna make me go on my own?”

“You won’t be on your own. Chan’s still going.”

Your younger friend, upon hearing his own name, whirls around from where he’s been rearranging the wall of cassettes and lifts an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“You’re still going to that guy’s show tonight, right?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am. Why?” Chan eyeballs your guilt-adjacent expression for a second before his face falls and he looks at Seungkwan with a curled lip. “What did you do? Why’s she not coming anymore?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Seungkwan barks. The customer he’s still not finished ringing up flinches at the lift in his voice, but he doesn’t notice. “Why is that always your first–”

“Shut up, don’t start this right n–”

“I’m not starting anything! You started–”

“Guys!” You interrupt, looking between the two of them and doing your best to smile apologetically at the poor lady fumbling through the cash in her fingers like it’s an Olympic sport. “Can we park this one? For five minutes? Please?”

The bickering pair fall quickly into silence and Chan sends one last glare at Seungkwan before he turns back to the cassettes, grumbling something under his breath. 

With a clearing of his throat the only giveaway, Seungkwan drops seamlessly back into his customer service voice and plasters a charming smile onto his lips. He checks the register and warmly tells the young woman her total, holding out his palm for her to place the money into. Even knowing him as well as you do, the switch-up gives you a little bit of whiplash.

The customer passes over her cash and accepts her change from Seungkwan’s hands before making perhaps the swiftest exit you’ve ever seen anyone make. No sooner has the bell above the entry to OFF BEAT Vinyl rung and the door has clicked shut, the two men turn once again.

But not on each other.

On you. And it’s the more gentle of them that pipes up first.

“Why aren’t you coming?” Chan asks, abandoning his little project and hurrying over to the desk with a frown. You’re sure it’s supposed to look sympathetic to whatever issue it is that’s changed your mind, supposed to fool you into believing that this has nothing to do with him still blaming Seungkwan entirely. But… you know him better than that. You know them both better. If Chan and Seungkwan weren’t both employed by you, you don’t doubt that they would have ripped each other to shreds within the first hour of meeting. Their dynamic is fascinating to watch — one minute, the best of friends, the next just seconds away from throwing fists; you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had to send them to different rooms to avoid having to clean blood and tears off your shop (and sometimes your apartment) floor. 

“I didn’t sleep so well last night, I just want to go to bed early. Is that… okay?” 

(This is an embellishment of the truth, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them.)

“No,” they both exclaim at the same time, but Seungkwan goes one step further and slams his hands down on the counter for good measure. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him, but he keeps his palms flat and doesn’t give any indication that he’s about to apologise, so…

“Okay — God.” You turn away from them, heading towards the little office out the back of the store to try and get a few minutes’ respite. “Whatever. Fight with the wall, you guys – I’m not going. Check in with me before you head out, okay?”

Behind you, Seungkwan dramatically calls you a traitor and says he’ll never forgive you for this, but you just shake your head and continue on your way. The world falls into silence as you shut the door after yourself and you lean back against it, letting out a deep exhale and pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Now, you did have an awful night’s sleep last night, and after how on-and-off busy the store has been all day today, the headache you woke up with this morning has only slowly gotten worse. But there are reasons for those things outside of what you’re going to admit to out in the main storefront. As close as the three of you are, there are some things that you’ve always thought it wise to keep… a little bit hushed. Especially at work. 

When Chan and Seungkwan start an inquisition into your private life, it feels like it may never end. And so sue you, you’d actually like to make it home at a reasonable time, today. 

True to your parting request, the two men close down the store for you while you sit out the back in your ‘office’, lights dimmed, pouring over both a new store playlist you’re trying to compile and a few less exciting — but actually important — tasks. Chan heads out first, all puppy-dog eyed when he pokes his head through the door and asking if you’re really not coming out. You shake your head, telling him to have fun and tell you all about it on Monday when he’s next penned in.

Seungkwan is slightly less easily brushed away. A few minutes after Chan says his final goodbye, your other employee slides into your office and shuts the door, sitting down in the armchair opposite you with his eyebrows scrunched together.

He doesn’t speak for almost a full thirty seconds, at which point, you look up at him from the small mountain of receipts you’re trying to organise and click your tongue.

“What?” you ask, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.” Seungkwan shifts forward on the cushion until he’s sat almost entirely on the edge of the seat. “You might think you’re really good at hiding your shit, okay? But you’re not. Not from me.”

“Please,” you sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m telling you, I’m just tired today.”

“And I’m telling you that I know you better than that. Come on, talk to me.”

This is, unfortunately, something you can’t deny. It also seems to be his unfailing last line of defence every single time you’re stubborn over discussing your problems. One of these days, you’ll be ready for it — you’ll have a response sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to shut the conversation down, and he’ll be the one on the spot, and you’ll treat yourself to a pint of ice cream or something when you get home as a victory snack. But today? Isn’t that day; Seungkwan stumps you, once again, so you groan in defeat, cradling your head in your hands.

“I went on a date last night,” you say under your breath.

“What?”

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. You say, louder, “I went on a date last night.”

His eyes blow wide and if he could get any closer to you without actually sitting on top of your coffee-stained worktop, you think he would. Which is strange, if you really let yourself think about it, because Seungkwan is sort of an ex-thing, and talking so openly to someone who has quite literally been inside you about going out with other people… shouldn’t come as easily as it does.

But that was quite some time ago, and for three long months, you drove each other nuts. The two of you are way better off as friends. (Whether you’re better as colleagues is still up for review.)

“You what?” he whisper-shouts. It feels almost like he’s hinting to an invisible audience that this piece of information is extremely scandalous: all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Which would be fine, except it’s not really that scandalous at all, and neither should it be a surprise: you’re single, you have been for a while, and you have an entire sub-folder in your phone dedicated solely to dating apps — you’re at perfect liberty to go out with whoever you like. You just continue to stare at him, refusing to repeat yourself for a third time. 

“You haven’t even been home, have you?” Seungkwan asks after letting the dust settle, the silence just on the brink of uncomfortable. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “His name’s Wonwoo. I met him on Hinge. And fuck you – yes, I went back to my own place.”

You pause for a second, taking a breath when his features cloud with the question he’s about to ask. 

“It’s just-... so did he.”

Seungkwan leaps to his feet and claps loud enough that your already tender eardrums feel assaulted, adding an ‘I knew it!’ for good measure. You cringe at his volume, rubbing your temples – you should’ve known telling him this wouldn’t calm him down, but a small part of you was still hoping. This time, he actually does circle around the desk, carelessly shoving a few bits of paper out of his way before sitting on the newly cleared wood. 

“Had you up all night, didn’t he?” Seungkwan asks. You shove his thigh, looking away from him, embarrassed. “What was the date?”

You just wish it was the kind of embarrassment that he thinks you’re feeling. Flustered, shy, giddy even. But it’s not any of those things.

“If I tell you, will you please turn it down a notch?” You ask, and Seungkwan nods, giddily kicking his legs over the side of the desk. With a sigh, you continue. “We just went for a drink. It wasn’t special, okay? It was bad. We had nothing to talk about, he was awkward, I didn’t even wanna be there – I took a bathroom break after like… a half hour, and I tried to bail but I’d left my phone on the table so I had to go back.”

“And how did that end up with him in your panties?” Seungkwan asks, thankfully a little quieter when he speaks this time. 

“Do not talk about my panties out loud ever again,” you grunt, drumming your fingertips on the arm of your office chair. You give a dejected sigh as you answer him properly. “I guess… It felt like a sign that I was trying to give up too early. So I stayed a little longer, told him the truth about how I was feeling. I don’t know, maybe it took the pressure off or something? But we got talking a little more, we found some stuff we had in common… It just got easier and he started cracking a few jokes, so…”

“So… he laughed his way into your—?”

“He doesn’t drink alcohol,” you interject slowly, narrowing your eyes. “I asked him if he minded driving me home.”

“You devil,” Seungkwan grins, lightly prodding your calf with the side of his foot. “Was he good? Was it big?”

“Seungkwan!”

“Did he make you–”

“He was gone this morning when I woke up.”

Your friend doesn’t say ‘oh, shit’ out loud, but he doesn’t have to. The silence he suddenly falls into speaks for itself, his newly adopted slack-jawed expression the exclamation mark at the end of his unspoken sentence. 

“Always the fucking ‘nice’ guys.” You push up from your desk and start to gather your things, shutting off your computer and grabbing your phone off the desk. You’re over it – you can deal with all this tomorrow.

Seungkwan hops down, biting the inside of his cheek as you pull your keys out of the pocket of your jeans. “Come with us tonight,” he tries one more time, laying a hand on your shoulder and sounding the kind of gentle that makes your skin itch. You swerve out from beneath his palm, shaking your head at him again. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”

“I don’t need my mind taking off anything,” you insist softly. “I’m fine, I just don’t feel like going out. Gonna order in some food and get my ass to bed. Okay?”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, your best friend finally stops pressing. He circles around you and flicks on the overnight alarm, letting you lead your way out of the office and then through the front of the store. He helps you pull the shutter down and tests the lock for you, as he so often does, before he holds both of his arms out in front of him. With a resigned roll of your eyes, you walk into his embrace for a couple of seconds.

“I’m okay, Seungkwan. Go without me. Have fun and let me know if this Vernon guy is any good, okay?”

“We’ll miss you,” he says as you pull away, and you clap him on the upper arm once before turning away, slipping your headphones on over your ears. 

What you neglected to inform Seungkwan, even after allowing yourself those rare few moments of vulnerability, is who you bumped into on your way to the bar where you met Wonwoo last night. The encounter that set the tone in the first place. The reason you were so cold with the stranger who sat across from you in the booth, the reason you tried to bail, and two-thirds of the reason you’ve felt so damn out of it all day. That’s a story for another time, you tell yourself on your walk home. Maybe. 

But… then again. Maybe not.

You’ve been marinating on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a crisis hoodie for at least two hours and are currently on your second bowl of evening cereal when you hear a knock on your apartment door. You purse your lips and set the spoon back down inside the milky sludge, but you don’t set your ‘dinner’ to one side just yet. It’s probably just the old lady next door, asking if you’ve seen her cat, Houdini (you can’t help but feel like she was asking for trouble giving him a name like that) (in any case — no, you haven’t), or the middle-aged couple opposite asking you to turn your music down (you won’t) (it’s not even that loud).

You’re not getting up. All you have to do is wait for them to give up and away. 

Knock, knock, knock.

They’ll leave. 

Knock knock. 

Any second, now.

…

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

You groan loudly as you haul yourself to your feet and skid over to the door, crossing your arms tighter over your chest to try and shield you from the chill that always lingers in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Mrs P,  I haven’t seen H—” you start on exasperated autopilot, falling quiet the moment your eyes land first on Chan’s beaming smile, and second on Seungkwan’s guilty eyes. “How… the fuck did you guys get in here?”

“We followed someone in,” Chan tells you as he slides past, inviting himself into your haven and heading through to the living room where your favourite album is spinning on your record player. “That really tall guy – I think he lives on the second floor? Crazy hairline. Like, right back h—?”

“Cool,” you interrupt, except it’s actually everything but cool. Seungkwan steps through the door too, following behind you as you stalk after your younger friend. “Next question. Why are you guys in here?”

“You’ve been in a funk all day,” Chan says, tossing himself down onto your couch and nearly tipping your cereal all over the cushions. He eyes the glass you have on the side-table, raises a brow and looks back at you. “And you can’t deny that. You’re drinking rosè and eating fruit loops at 9pm on a Saturday. You need to get out of this apartment.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” you tell him, sitting down on the armchair to Chan’s left that only ever gets used when these two idiots show up at the same time. 

“One hour?” Seungkwan tries again, crouching down in front of you and taking hold of your hand. “You don’t have to be out late. And – and I’ll open tomorrow. You can stay in bed as long as you want.”

“Do you guys ever stop?” You ask them, and in tandem, the two men shake their heads at you. “I’m staying here. You’ve gotta go, or you’re gonna be late.”

Chan whines your name loudly, stomping like an upset toddler. “You know it won’t be as fun without you.”

“It’s gonna have to be,” you shrug, picking your feet up off the floor and resting them on the coffee table. “Come on. I’m serious. Get out of here.”

Seungkwan watches you for a moment longer but when you eye him sternly, he stands up again, giving your hand a squeeze and sending a nod to tell Chan to get up and follow him. First taking a long sip from your wine glass, the younger man does as he’s instructed, concern etching a frown onto his lips as he walks towards the door.

“If you change your mind, you know where we are, okay?” Seungkwan says and you nod at him. “See you in the morning.”

The door clicks shut behind them and you feel your shoulders droop, a long sigh leaving your lungs now you’re finally back on your own again. You roll your head side-to-side, relieving a tiny bit of the tension that you’ve been holding up in your neck all day, before relaxing back against the cushions behind you.

I’m not going out tonight, you tell yourself as you try to time your breaths to the beat of your music, letting it drown out the fact that the young couple who live two doors down have started arguing just outside your front door. It’s not gonna happen. 

There’s no way. 

The chill of an ice-cold glass meets your palm not even an hour later.

Chan and Seungkwan had been sitting on the stairs outside your apartment building, giving you fifteen more minutes just in case you happened to change your mind. To your credit, neither man had expected you to get out of your quarter-life-crisis outfit. Each gave a whistle of approval as you stepped outside into the air in a nice pair of jeans and a cute, long-sleeved shirt.

You all set off in the direction to the Arrowhead (so-called thanks to the venue’s unconventional triangular room shape) and both of your friends managed to successfully paint a few smiles on your face along the way. Once inside, Seungkwan dragged you by the wrist up towards the main bar space. Before you even had time to process the blurred faces that you walked by and the fuzzy neon signs all the way up the stairwell, enthused cheers and applause from the room ahead and the melodic strumming of a guitar drowned out the dread you’d been feeling ever since you woke up.

“This guy is not covering U2,” Chan says almost incredulously as he thrusts the drink he paid for into your hand. You manage to work your way through the crowd a little: it’s busier in here than you’ve ever seen it before, and certainly way more full than you would have really expected, but there’s still just enough movement room.

“Yeah, he is,” you say as you weave your way into a decent spot, where you can actually see the musician whose logo has been plastered on every notice board around town for the past month and a half. You even end up with a bit of breathing space, which is a rare, but welcome, treat.

But whatever you were about to say next – about how you don’t like U2, and how you’ve never really forgiven them for putting their entire new album onto everybody’s iTunes back in 2014 – dies a magnificent death on your tongue. You pause with your drink halfway to your lips as your eyes land on the main attraction, the man up on the stage; he has a small band up there, too, but all the lights draw your focus to him. His eyes are sparkly. Both his hands are wrapped around the microphone like he’s caressing it, his rosy lips brush over the metal as they move with each word that comes out of his mouth. Watching him quickly becomes almost hypnotic.

So. This is Vernon.

Long, dark hair sits low over his temples, perfectly parted and shaped in the middle to frame his brows. The top few buttons of his emerald satin shirt are popped open, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the hem half tucked into his black jeans. He has rings on almost every finger. A silver chain around his neck. He looks good, but his voice?

I think I hated this song ten minutes ago, you think to yourself, but there’s something about Vernon’s deep, rough-edged tone that has you considering never listening to anything else. If you could stand to look away from the way he cradles his mic, and the way one of his eyes squeezes tighter closed as he lifts up into a higher note, and the way he moves on the stage like he was born to be on one, you might notice your friends (and everyone else around you) equally entranced by this gorgeous rendition of Beautiful Day as yourself. You can’t, though, so you don’t. 

You keep your attention locked on the singer and instead start to wonder just what he injected the air with when he stepped out from behind that curtain. 

Vernon’s eyes flutter back open right as he hits the final line of the song, a smile spreading over his lips. You realise only now that you’re hardly breathing, nor blinking — your body doesn’t remember to function in the ways it needs to survive, too caught up being immersed all the way to the last beat. You think he looks right at you from up on the stage, you swear one of his eyebrows lifts and his features twist into a satisfied smirk. You’re certain, because for half a second it feels like the world tumbles into slow motion and it’s like he’s reading every single one of your secrets, scouring every corner of your mind. 

And then… he looks away. He looks across the crowd applauding and cheering and whistling for him, before crouching low and taking a sip from the water bottle sitting on the floor beside his mic-stand. Only then does he speak. 

“Risky opener, I know,” he chuckles, his speaking-voice deep and smooth and wholly entrancing. The room erupts into soft laughter, a series of whoops coming from the crowd, everyone disarmed by his slightly awkward charm; the singer’s cheeks turn rosy and a gummy smile lights up his face before he continues. “Thank you guys for giving it a chance, though. If you didn’t know… I’m Vernon—…”

You’re hooked on his every word as he starts to introduce himself and the band behind him — everyone is, but you don’t care about the people around you. Despite being shoulder-to-shoulder with your two best friends and with every breath inhaling the overpowering cologne of the guy standing right behind you, it feels, in a way, like you and the singer could be the only two people in the entire room. 

The set lasts just over ninety minutes and is a carefully put-together mixture of mostly original songs and a couple of crowd-pleasing covers, a few slower ballad-types to offset the higher energy rock songs that he beams the whole way through. In-between, Vernon wins over the crowd with his dry sense of humour and a natural charisma that has you feeling mortifyingly warm, despite the fact that you know he isn’t speaking directly to you when he breaks to talk. You’ve been to more than your fair share of gigs in this venue over the years, but few performers have ever made one of their shows feel so genuinely intimate; by the time he says goodnight and heads off the stage, bidding everyone a safe journey home, it feels, in a weird way, like… you know him.

Most of the more local artists who play in the Arrowhead tend to hang around after their sets – sometimes they’ll have copies of EPs, others come with pins and badges showing off their logos, various cute freebies for people to take home. A few even just stand around in the bar and talk for a while, thanking people personally for coming, sharing information about their upcoming releases and future gig schedules. Unless you’ve been really blown away, this isn’t something the three of you often stick around for, though.

It’s therefore a bit of a surprise that when Vernon re-emerges some fifteen minutes later, you don’t even have to convince your friends to work your way into the crowd already starting to form. If anything, the look exchanged between you all establishes that wanting to praise this guy and say hello is very much mutual; the time that ticks by before you’re face-to-face with him really feels like no time at all.

The people in front of you move off to the side and you catch your first actual, unobstructed glimpse of him. He takes a sip from his glass and wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand before greeting you kindly. Somehow, he’s even more handsome up close. You really didn’t think it was possible. 

“Amazing set, man,” Chan says brightly, doing little by way of snapping you out of your trance. “Super fresh.”

“Seriously. So, so good,” Seungkwan gushes.

Vernon pushes away from where he’s leaned against the bar, pulling his other hand out of his pocket and extending it to your friends in turn. 

“Thank you so much,” he says. “Glad you guys liked it.” Another one of those easy, bright smiles spreads over his face. Maybe you entertain, for a second, that it grows a little more when he holds his hand out to you, too. 

You’re still stunned into silence by how breathtaking he is, but you put your drink in the other hand and wipe the condensation off your palm on the side of your jeans before shaking his hand, as well. He’s really warm, maybe even a little clammy, but when he squeezes with his fingers and looks straight into your eyes, this becomes a very negligible detail.

“Your vibe really reminds me of someone… God, what was his name-...” Chan starts to babble, clicking his fingers at lightning speed as if it’ll help him remember. “He was on that survival show-...”

“We’re sorry about him,” Seungkwan interjects after a few more seconds of nonsense and half-spoken, incorrect names, lifting a hand and covering Chan’s mouth. “He gets a little… it’s just when he’s excited.”

“No I don’t,” Chan huffs, swatting Seungkwan’s hand away. You inhale deeply, trying not to cringe as you watch Vernon’s amused eyes bounce between your two friends like he’s watching a tennis match. 

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Case in point—” Seungkwan starts, at which stage you lay one palm on each of their shoulders to try and get them to stop talking.

By some miracle, it works. At least, their mouths stop moving; there’s definitely a silent conversation ongoing in the filthy looks they continue to exchange, but they stop bickering aloud and that’s good enough for you, for now.

“Come on, let’s leave the poor guy alone,” you say, and Chan shoots Seungkwan a filthy look before he nods and takes a small step back from the altercation. 

Vernon’s eyes glitter under the venue’s neon lighting, wide and focused on you while you do your best to mediate. You only notice this when you look back at him, by which point it’s far, far too late to stop the eruption of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re really good,” you compliment finally, a smile tugging your mouth up on one side. 

“Thank you.” Vernon grins, briefly dipping his head in your direction, but looking for a second as if he’s about to say something else. His chest rises with a breath, his lips push forward like they’re about to separate again, but before he can, Chan finds one more thing to come out with. Of course. (Seungkwan, regretfully, was right — he does get a little…)

“Do you like records?” he asks, pulling Vernon’s gaze away from you. The singer tilts his head, questioning. “Records. Vinyl – albums? Records.”

“Shit – yeah.” Vernon nods then. “Yeah, sorry. I um-... Sure. Yeah. Totally.”

“She owns a record store,” Chan says, jerking his head towards you. You feel your eyes blow wide and you’re tapping harshly at his back in an instant, begging him to stop. “OFF BEAT Vinyl. Not too far from here – it’s a cool spot.”

“No kidding?” Vernon says, glancing back in your direction, but you’re too busy silently pleading at Chan to shut up to realise.

“Mm. You should swing by, some time,” Seungkwan agrees, and all of a sudden, you’re overcome with the urge to fight him, too. “We all work there.”

“All right, let’s go,” you cough eventually, grabbing both men by the wrist and tugging. Vernon chuckles softly at the interruption; it’s almost as sweet a sound as his singing.

“OFF BEAT Vinyl,” he repeats, tasting the store’s name on his tongue, swirling it around his mouth like a wine he’s trying to savour. “For real. I’ll look it up.”

Chan grins proudly, finally letting himself be pulled away from the singer, and you manage to make exactly two paces before Vernon’s voice rings through your eardrums one more time.

“Hey, uh – what was your name?” he asks. It’s unmistakable who the question is aimed at (your friends don’t even entertain for a moment that he could be asking them), but regardless, it takes you a moment to let yourself believe he really wants to know. Vernon doesn’t push, though – he knows you heard him and he waits for your answer, leaning a little forward. 

So, you look over your shoulder and you tell him. You see his lips move silently as he repeats it to himself, just like he did with the name of the store. He tastes it. Plays with it on his tongue, remembers the way it feels. As if it’s something he really intends to remember.

“Cool,” he breathes, pushing his hair back and off his forehead and making it very difficult to feel in any way rational. “Well – it’s great to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out, again.”

Finally, you manage to get your friends away. One of them, at least – Seungkwan decides that he actually wants to grab a few copies of his EP (‘one for me, a few for the store’) and rushes back towards the singer; you tell him to just meet you back at the bar.

Then, with another round of drinks on order, you turn to Chan and land a gentle thump on his bicep.

“Dude,” you groan, and he looks at you incredulously, rubbing his upper arm with a pout. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Chan asks. 

“Tell him about the store!”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was classified?” he says. “Shit’s slow right now, and he seems like the kind of guy to have a record collection. What’s the damage?”

Seungkwan appears behind you with his hands full of CDs, badges and a scrap of something that you’re reasonably sure is firstly, a napkin, and secondly, has been signed. So you rest your elbows on the bar and place your head in your hands, grumbling quietly about how you don’t know you’ve managed to survive this long knowing these two losers.

“Because you love us,” Seungkwan says, fastening a button to your t-shirt. “Stop trying to deny it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a long sip. “God, you better have been serious about opening up for me, tomorrow.”

(Well. You have to give it to him: he was.)

“It’s just my opinion!” 

From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock. 

“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”

“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”

“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”

“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask. 

“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”

The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.

It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work. 

Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.

He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright. 

“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and kicking the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him in return. 

“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?” 

“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”

“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.

(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)

“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?” 

“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”

You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.

Really, they come away lucky.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”

And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.

Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. I thought you were kidding about that.”

“Deadly serious,” Seungkwan laughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he must see you start to freeze up: he keeps talking instead of letting the silence settle. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”

“For real?” Vernon asks. When all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”

“It’s good music,” Chan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”

You’re not sure what it is about the onslaught of passive praise that gets so deep into Vernon’s head, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself other than repeatedly saying ‘thank you’. Relief comes in the form of another customer jingling the bell above the door and drawing the attention away from him for a few moments.

“I’ll take these,” he says breathlessly as he turns to face you again. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a second to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually. 

“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”

You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their action. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.

“I’m playing at the Orchid? Uh— it starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”

“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds. 

Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it. 

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.

You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.

Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”

The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.

“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”

You feel your heart finally start to slow down as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.

“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink. And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles? 

You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.

The rest of the afternoon goes by without much disturbance and with evening plans now in place, you make the executive decision to send the boys home half an hour early. The three of you agree to meet outside The Orchid at just after eight o’clock, giving you all a chance to eat, wash up and change before the show; your friends separate and head in the different directions to the places they call home, making a promise to text your group chat before you leave to coordinate the link-up time. You head back into the office to finish tying up your loose ends and manage to depart just an hour later. 

On your way to your apartment, you plan everything out to the minute in your head. You even allocate yourself twenty minutes to sit on the couch and decompress from your working day. So, when you settle down a little further into the cushions and put your head back, resting your eyes… when you tell yourself you’ll get up in just a minute and hop into the shower…

You certainly don’t expect to be woken up two and a half hours later as your phone vibrates on the floor of your living room.

With one eye still closed, you pick it up, yawning and stretching the lingering wisps of slumber from your body. Seungkwan’s contact name shows on your screen and you swipe to answer the call; on the other end of the line, a song you’ve never heard before is audible, but it’s accompanied by a voice you most definitely do know.

Everything snaps into place at once; in an instant, you’re wide awake, and you feel physically sick.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss into the speaker, scrabbling upright, tugging the phone away from your face to see the time. How is it already past 9pm?

“Oh, hello to you, too!” Seungkwan has to half-shout to be anywhere near audible over the music. You can almost perfectly visualise the way he’ll have sandwiched himself in a corner of the venue, pinching the bridge of his nose, head resting against the wall to try and block out enough sound to hear you. “Good to know you’re actually still alive!”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” you say, rushing through to your bathroom to check if you can get away with leaving the house as you are. (Jury’s out, but you don’t have much of a choice.) “I… don’t know what happened. I fell asleep – I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Seungkwan chides you again, this time reminding you that he’s been on your ass about going to a doctor to get your iron levels checked for months, that your timekeeping is terrible and that you really better hurry. You promise you’re on your way and hang up the call, pocketing your (horrifically under-charged) phone and slipping into a pair of sneakers you keep by the door before you head out. You told him you’d be here. Seungkwan’s voice rings loud and clear in your ears as you lock up your apartment.

But of course, bad things never happen in isolation. Waiting on the street outside your apartment block, you find yourself being cancelled on by not one, but two uber drivers: by the time the third reaches you, and has to follow the world’s most inconvenient diversion to get past some construction work, it’s 9:35. You know it doesn’t matter how quickly you run down the last stretch of the street and get up the seemingly never-ending staircase: it’s going to be too late.

You only manage to catch the literal last two songs of Vernon’s set. You’re not sure he even knows you’ve arrived, and in a way, you hope he doesn’t. Maybe having him believe you were a no-show is better than him knowing you’re about as low-functioning as a grown adult can be. You just slip in through the door as discreetly as you can and hover at the very back of the room as he rounds up for the night; Chan slips an arm around your shoulders as you turn to the bar and order yourself a drink, but it doesn’t do much to reduce the guilt that weighs heavy in your chest. 

Which… is odd, really, you suppose. Seeing as you hardly know the singer much beyond his name and, now, a fraction of his record collection. Seeing as you certainly don’t owe him your presence at any of his performances. But there’s something in the way he made sure to ask you personally if you’d be able to make it, too, and you can’t shake it off, and… yeah, screw it, maybe you did want to be here. Maybe you did want him to notice. Maybe you do care what he thinks of you. 

Maybe… you hope he feels the same about you.

Your drink hasn’t even arrived yet by the time you hear a chain of ‘excuse me – sorry, can I just? Yeah, thanks – sorry, excuse me’ -s behind you. Your eyes fly wide and you almost choke on your own spit at the sound, growing closer and closer, somehow audible over the background music floating through the speakers, over the other chattering voices and shrieks of laughter in every direction. Part of your breathlessness, admittedly, is to do with how immediately you just knew who that voice belonged to.

“Excuse m–” it sounds again.

And then, softer: “Hey.”

You turn around on your bar stool, barely managing to bite back a smile. “Hi.”

Vernon grins at you from a few feet away, a dark singlet hanging loose on his frame, showing off his long, lean arms, displaying the few bracelets he wears on one of his slender wrists. You’re staring – you know you are; you don’t even notice the fact that Chan takes several steps away from you, or how he throws a side-along glance toward Seungkwan, nor the fact that your two best friends start talking quietly among themselves, leaving you and Vernon almost alone.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I managed to…” But Vernon’s already shaking his head, coming up beside you at the bar, settling into the seat on your left. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing over at you where you’re sitting. “I’m just glad you’re here, now.”

Chan stumbles over to you somewhere around midnight and claps his hand down on your shoulder, interrupting Vernon’s very enthusiastic explanation as to why flying is totally a better superpower to want to have than invisibility. Your giggles fall silent and Vernon stops mid-flow, waiting to hear what your friend wants to speak to you about. Unfortunately, Chan’s words are barely intelligible; it’s only when a marginally-better-for-wear Seungkwan appears too a moment later that you’re able to make any sense of him.

“We’re gonna–” Seungkwan hiccups, covering his mouth with his hand and wincing, no doubt at the burn of everything he’s had to drink now sitting high in his throat. “Gonna head out. Are you coming? We’ll split a taxi with you.”

You find yourself glancing over to where Vernon is standing, propped against the pool table that you’re now leaning on the edge of. He just smiles back at you, lifting his shoulders.

“I think… I’m gonna stay here a little longer,” you say after chewing it over. “You guys go ahead.”

Seungkwan looks between the two of you and frowns slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Vernon gently pipes up from your side, sliding over a little so that his palm rests flat on the felt of the table, his forearm supporting your hips from behind. But it isn’t you he addresses, despite this butterfly-inducing contact. All deep and serious, he says, “I promise, she’s safe with me.” 

He takes his time to show it on his face, but ultimately this satisfies Seungkwan, who (despite being just about able to support both his and Chan’s weight in his current condition) has before, and still will, ignore his body’s demands in the name of ensuring your safety. But maybe he sees a trustworthiness in Vernon, or maybe he knows that you can and do handle yourself quite well. Whatever it is, he’s happy with this development, and your two friends bundle you in a hug so tight that it squeezes the air out of your lungs before they make their way towards the exit.

Once they’re out of view, you turn back to Vernon again, raising both brows at the man now closer to you than he’s ever been. But it’s far from claustrophobic – not as these things can so often be. No. No.

It’s addictive.

“Oh you promise, huh?” The tease comes out before you can do anything about it. You even end up batting your lashes at him for good measure. 

“Cross my heart,” he says with a small shrug of his shoulders. His eyes dip from where they’re boring into your own, glancing down a fraction, just for a moment, and you’re sure you see him start to lean. Drawn to you like an opposing magnet, like a moth to a flame — his breaths feel hotter as they fan against your skin, his cologne starts to smell a little stronger… then, his fingers on the other hand curl around the pool cue he’s been balancing on his side and he drags himself away from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass one more time.”

One more game of pool quickly turns to two, and it even threatens to become a third as you tease, again, that Vernon just got lucky and he flashes you another one of those looks that says ‘oh? Try me’. But as tempting as it is, you don’t think your pride can withstand any more losses. You resign yourself from the table with a huff when he rests his palms flat on the velvet covering, leaning towards you in that mouth-watering way he’s been doing for hours. The thing is, for the size of his pool-playing-ego, Vernon isn’t even that good. Not if you consider the number of completely missed shots, questionable connections and pocketed cues. But, because your own skill level leaves plenty to be desired, he doesn’t have to be up there with the big leagues. 

He just needs to be a tiny bit better than you.

Asshole.

An announcement for last orders from behind the bar tells you that it’s nearing one in the morning as he starts to circle around the table and makes his way towards you. The bar has emptied considerably since you arrived, the music has steadily started getting more and more cheesy, people in all four corners of the room have started draping themselves over one another like well-dressed blankets, having already chosen the individuals they’ve decided to take home tonight. By all accounts, it’s the perfect time to leave. If you head out now, you’ll miss the rush of people flooding into the street and, if you’re lucky, the surge in taxi prices. The really good takeout place around the corner doesn’t close for another half hour, too. 

There’s just one problem. You don’t want this night to end just yet.

“I think I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you say to Vernon, trying to stretch out a burning knot in your shoulder. “It’s like, a thousand degrees in here.”

Vernon nods. “Yeah – cool. I’ll come with you.”

And with your bag slung over the arm not causing you an ache, you start off down the stairwell. The doors are already open and the late night breeze has you feeling like you’re walking through the gates of heaven as you head outside. You inhale deeply, making the most of this very rare occasion of the city’s air not feeling thick with car fuel and cigarettes. Your eyes fall closed.

“I always liked being out at this time,” Vernon says as he joins you, leaning one shoulder against the brickwork of the outside of the bar. “Feels peaceful.”

“Sure,” you nod, craning your neck to look at him. His face is half-illuminated in the neon red of the bar’s sign above you. The harsh lighting and the shadows cast by his angular features have him looking… sort of sinful, in a weird artsy way that you can’t explain thanks to the pleasant buzzing in your brain. Straight out of an arthouse, indie movie. I bet he likes those, you think absently. 

He looks straight into your eyes, intense and focussed as if he’s trying to search them, though for what you’re not sure. Honestly, you think if he gave a few more flutters of those beautiful lashes, you’d bend in-half-and-half-again to give him anything he wanted, so in a way you’re interested to ask what he’s thinking about. You don’t end up saying anything, though. There’s something wonderful in these little unspoken moments with Vernon. Something raw. 

Something… unexplainable. 

Sitting at the bar and stealing tickled glances as the waitress fumbles and drops a tray full of glasses on the floor. Subtle winks of his right eye (always, you’re discovering, the right?) from across a pool table when he succeeds in making a shot he has absolutely no business pulling off. Standing opposite you in the store you own, waiting to find out when – not if – he’s going to see you, again –

“You know,” he starts, the tiniest edge of nervousness in his voice for the first time tonight. Is the performance adrenaline finally wearing off? Is he… maybe starting to feel a little shy? Whatever it is, your last train of thought melts away into the drain just to his right, and you focus on him as he continues down this new path instead. “I got a new coffee machine in my apartment last weekend and I haven’t had the chance to use it for anyone yet.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing. “I uh…” He bounces one fist in the palm of his other hand, searching for the right order to put the words into. “I mean, it’s not like, one of those super fancy ones, or anything… but it’s sorta retro looking? Which is cool, and—”

“Vernon?”

“Yeah?”

“You‘re a little out of practice, huh?”

He chuckles on an outward breath, bowing his head, a grin that threatens to split his pretty face in two taking residence on his lips. “That obvious?”

“A tiny bit,” you say. “It’s cute though.”

He glances up at you, head a little tilted. “Yeah?”

“Mm… getting less-so by the second,” you tease him. “You can just ask me to come with you.”

“I-…” he starts, but he takes a deep breath instead and corrects his posture, as if it’ll prepare him somehow. “Okay. Okay — do you… maybe wanna come back to my place, with me?”

Not without flashing him a look first that says ‘now, was that so hard?’, you find yourself nodding up at him. 

“I’d love to,” you say.

He pushes away from the wall and when you do the same, he falls into step, heading in the direction of his apartment. You try to discreetly roll your shoulder out again but it’s obviously not discrete enough; it draws his attention down to your arm, and he frowns slightly.

“Is that giving you trouble?” He asks. 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off, stretching the muscle as best as you can by tilting your head as you walk. “It’s been like this for years.”

He scrunches his brows. “Here — can I?” He asks, his fingertip looping beneath the strap of your bag. You look down at your shoulder, then back up at him, before raising one brow, dropping the other. 

“I mean — I don’t know if it’s your colour?” 

Vernon barks out a ‘ha’, easily slipping your bag down your arm, the tips of his warm fingers brushing against your comparatively cool skin. You make no effort to stop him. He positions it on his own shoulder instead, the one furthest away from you so he can still walk right against your side. 

“There’s a reason I wear all black, okay?” He says. “It makes everything my colour.”

His fingers smoothly slip between yours as he says it. It was quite the move, and for a second you’re impressed. At least, until it turns out that this simple action seems to jolt him back to his factory settings, because—

“I’m so serious about this coffee machine, by the way.”

“I know you are,” you laugh, bumping your weight against him and squeezing his hand. “I’m counting on it.”

“Okay, so,” you start, settling into Vernon’s couch and tucking one of your legs up beneath you. You cradle the mug of coffee he’s made you — admittedly, the retro-style machine was pretty cool — between both of your hands, a thumb brushing over the raised pattern on the ceramic. The fresh air from the walk here seems to have decently sobered you; barring a pleasant buzz, you feel almost like you haven’t drunk a thing. “How did you get into music?”

Vernon matches your posture play-for-play, biting the inside of his cheek before he answers. He drank less than you in the first place, but he seems steadier now, as well.

“Uh… a couple things, I guess,” he starts. “I mean, my parents are big into music. Sometimes they'd take me with them to shows and stuff, had a bunch of CD’s all over the house — all that. You know? I really grew up on it, so…"

You nod, tilting your head to gesture for him to continue. 

“Then… I don’t know. There’s- okay, I was kind of a loser in high school,” he goes on. You roll your eyes; Vernon nudges your thigh with his knee playfully, shaking his head. 

“I just mean, I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “So…, I mean, that’s— that’s whatever. The point is that I spent a lot of time on my own and I basically had an earphone in any time I thought I could get away with it, and–... and sometimes even if I couldn’t.” He chuckles. “Weird. Most of my teachers didn’t like me much either.”

You laugh too now, and Vernon bows his head a little; every single one of his handsome features brightens up and you don’t really know where to look. His never-ending lashes are so long they cast shadows down onto his cheeks, and the ambient lighting reflects off his eyes so beautifully that they look like they’re glimmering. 

He goes on, “there was one, though. My bio teacher? She was really cool. She had a lot more time for me than the others did. And uh, she called me into her office after school one day and just said… basically, my options were to start giving a shit about… cells, and mitochon– whatever, or start really working for this great big thing that I spent all my time daydreaming about. And it’s been a little up and down, but…”

He trails off, shrugging on one side.

“I think you’re doing pretty okay,” you chime in, leaning one arm against the back of the couch and resting your head in your palm. “I bet those kids would lose their minds if they could see you now.”

“Oh?” Vernon asks, setting his coffee down on the side-table. You click your tongue at him.

“Don’t– come on.”

“No, seriously,” he laughs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-…” you start, shaking your head. “Okay. People go out of their way to listen to you. Everyone who comes to one of your shows… that’s an hour, two hours, whatever – of making people feel exactly the way you want them to feel. They... all want to understand you. Right?”

Vernon just looks at you, forehead a tiny bit creased — the cogs in your brain tick away trying to find a better way to explain what you mean, but he finally speaks. (You’re glad, because you were struggling to come up with anything else.) 

“Shit, I thought that was just an in to say you thought I was hot, or something.”

You push at his chest lightly, your palm lingering on his vest a moment longer than is, perhaps, strictly necessary. 

“Shut up,” you groan. But a second later… “I guess there’s that, too.”

He sits back a little, pushing his hair off his forehead with a chuckle. “I dunno, I mean — I sort of… is it weird if I don’t really think about it that way?”

“Of course not,” you tell him.

He gets that look back on his face again; the pensive one, where he appears like he’s seconds away from saying something else, something important. But he falters, and when he glances back at you, his engine stalls. 

Then, with a shake of his head, he says, “wow, okay, enough about me. I’m so sorry. Can I ask you a question?”

You take another sip of your coffee and set it down, too, nodding ‘yes’. To be honest, you were quite enjoying talking about him; at the same time, you know what it is to feel a little too perceived sometimes, so you let him move on without argument. 

“How do you just… own a record store?”

You laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve had to explain this one. (When was the last time one of your dates was interested enough to ask?)

“I’m not as good a storyteller as you are,” you preface, mirroring him when he rolls his eyes, pretending not to notice that he shuffles even closer. You launch into it easily enough — the old store owner was a friend of the family, he let you work there while you were in college, took you on full-time after you dropped out. When his eyesight started deteriorating, he chose to retire and told you it was yours, if you wanted it. 

“Place would’ve closed down, otherwise,” you shrug. “But I couldn’t do it on my own, so I brought the guys in to help. Two years later... yeah. I guess that's how.”

The whole time as you talk, his eyes don’t leave you. He’s quite expressive, you find — whether he’s lifting a perfectly shaped brow, nodding along to what you’re saying, smiling at you… you feel listened to. When he’s sat across from you, you feel heard; you feel known.

“Well, first — take it back. You’re a great storyteller,” he says. You feel your face grow warm and you nudge him with your knee, but you don’t argue — you aren’t convinced he’d let you win, anyway. “But that’s… really cool? Actually.”

“Oh yeah, I heard nine-to-five retail is the coolest thing you can do, these days,” you laugh.

Vernon scoffs at you. “You close at six thirty.”

(How on Earth does he remember that?)

To avoid thinking about it too much, and so you don’t have to try to navigate asking, you roll your eyes.

“You’re right,” you say to him. “That’s way better.”

“Do you like what you do?” He asks, and you tilt your head at him. “Well — okay. If you ignore the… boring, back-office stuff.”

“Yeah,” you say after a pause. “I guess I do.”

“Then it’s cool.”

Your coffees both go cold as you talk more, and more, and more — he asks about your life, and growing up, your friends, and he answers all of your questions in turn when you ask them. He has an interesting way of talking about himself outside of his job; it’s not so much that you have to pry for information, but he’s not super forthcoming. It’s as if he’s taking all of your questions at face value, like he doesn’t know how to go about expanding on them. 

Maybe he’s just more of a listener, you contemplate once he turns yet another of your questions back on you and you teasingly pull him up on it. It flusters him, which you can’t help but find very endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I just… you have such a pretty… voice?” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck, ears burning pink. 

“Oh?” You ask, stumped for a moment as your heart lurches in your chest. When he nods, you find the gall from somewhere to say, “takes one to know one.” 

(You’re not sure how.)

And on it goes. On, and on, and on. More questions, more answers, more lighthearted shoves and lingering touches and shy glances away from each others’ scorching gazes as heat rushes to your cheeks. He even shows you his record collection and puts on one of his favourite albums for background noise before you settle back into the couch. It’s so natural, even when the vinyl runs to the end and the only noise from the player is a distant crackle. Being in his space and having mindless conversation after mindless conversation feels almost as comfortable as being in your own home. 

You notice something, as you’re rounding off a monologue about why your highschool math teacher was the worst person you’d ever met. A tiny hair on the apple of his cheek. One of those lashes you envy so much. Even as you try to focus back on your closing remarks, your eyes keep dropping to it and you trail off into silence a few words short.

“I’m sorry, you’ve-… got an eyelash,” you say, tapping roughly the same spot on your own cheek. 

“Mm. I have a few of them,” Vernon counters, wiping the heel of his thumb against his skin. He misses, though, and drops his arm back down with the lash still stuck to his face. 

You move before you can stop yourself, hand lifting up to his face and hovering just a few centimetres away.

“Can I?” you ask. 

Vernon nods, wordlessly. He goes cross-eyed and his lids twitch in a flutter as he watches you get closer; you brush the lash onto your thumb and he only breathes again when you rebalance it on the tip of your finger.  You hold it up to him, settling back into your own part of the couch; he just stares back at you. 

“Make a wish,” you prompt. 

His confusion is poorly concealed, head cocked to one side as he looks from the lash to you and back again. “Huh?”

“Don’t you…?”

He shakes his head. 

“Okay, wow,” you laugh, glancing down at your finger too. “You have to make a wish on your eyelashes when they fall out.”

“No, I got that part,” Vernon snickers. “I just mean — why?”

“I—” you start to explain, but you fall short of an explanation and frown instead, biting the inside of your cheek. “… I don’t know. It’s just what you’re supposed to do. I’ve always done it.”

The downturn of your lips doesn’t last very long, though. 

“Well, what if it’s not an eyelash? What if it’s like… one of my eyebrows, or something?” He asks. 

It's such a simple but off-the-wall response that you can't help but laugh, except it comes on so suddenly you start to choke on your own saliva. One of his hands circles around you and rubs soothingly between your shoulder blades as you cough, succeeding in bringing him even closer and failing to lower the fever you’re starting to feel creep up on you. By some miracle, you don’t drop the lash, even as you hack pathetically into the crook of your elbow; Vernon waits for it to subside, a weirdly fond look on his face all the while.

Now, when you turn your head, he’s right there. In your space. His arm still around your back, the glint of the bar pierced through his brow drawing your attention up away from those smiling lips. 

“I guess it just doesn’t come true? I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve never tried wishing on an eyebrow before.”

“I’m just saying,” he starts, falling back against the cushions now he knows you’re not suffocating. His arm doesn’t move, though. If anything, he sort of pulls you with him. “What if it ends up like a reverse wish. Whatever I ask for, the opposite comes true, or something.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” you say, starting to bring your finger closer to yourself. 

Quicker than you can blink, he reaches to you and lightly lays his fingers around your wrist, stopping you in your path.

“Wait,” he says, pouting a little. “I didn’t say that.”

Both of you glance down to this new point of contact. Two sets of lips stay parted but two identical breaths remain held, burning in both your lungs and in Vernon’s. His gaze shifts back up to your face, eyes wide and wholly serious and unblinking. 

“What do I do?” He asks on the eventual exhale. It reminds you to breathe again, too.

“Close your eyes.”

It takes him a second to obey, but he does. His eyes flutter closed and you clear your throat, lifting your finger until it’s just in front of his face. 

“Make a wish.”

A few seconds later, his brows relax and he nods. 

“Then… blow.”

His lips purse and he pushes a breath through them, lifting the stray lash off your skin and sending it out into the room. He opens his eyes, then, smiling in a manner that you can tell is absolutely despite himself. 

He doesn’t move away, and his cologne, fresh and citrusy, mixes tantalisingly with the sandalwood candle he lit on your way back to the couch a little while ago, both accented by the chewing gum he popped to get rid of the mocha aftertaste still lingering on his breath.

“What did you wish for?” You ask, dropping your hand back down to your side.

He frowns. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” he says. “Pretty sure that’s against like… wish laws, or something.”

“Boring,” you chide, slumping your shoulders, but he just grins at you, darting his tongue out over his lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his Adam’s apple bob in a thick swallow and you can feel the gentle brushing of his thumb. The slow movements, up and down over the exposed area on your hip where your shirt has started to ride up, make you shiver, and you know your chest stutters when his fingers move to press wholly against your bare skin. You know he notices, because he does it again. And again, and again. 

It's maddening. You end up stuck in this never-ending feeling of falling head-first into his arms.

“Where do you think the laws stand on showing you, though?” He asks, inching a little closer.

You hold your breath, little more than anticipatory static flooding your brain. 

“I think they’re okay with it.”

You mirror, slowly, hooked in the gaze that has adrenaline dripping down the length of your spine like honey, and you can’t bring yourself to look away until you can practically taste him. He closes the space between you in half speed, but gently, like you’re both made of tissue, he brings his thumb and forefinger to your chin and touches his lips to yours. His nose presses against your cheek. 

It’s comfortable. It’s warm. It’s easy, it’s exhilarating, it’s perfect. You feel like your heart just might burst clean out of your chest—

But… you can’t.  

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging yourself away and clamping your hands over your mouth. “Shit — I’m-… I’m sorry.”

Out of nowhere, you’re fighting to catch a breath, head spinning in circles, and no longer in the good way. Have those beers finally come back to bite you in the ass? Or, deeper down, do you know your sudden intoxication isn’t alcohol related at all? Vernon shoots back from you like you’ve gone up in flames and he might catch, too — his eyes search your face as you scramble to get to your feet, and he looks… scared. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. You don’t respond right away, already looking around the apartment for where you left your shoes, already trying to locate your bag too. (As you try to swim towards the surface, you forget that it wasn’t you who still had hold of it when you came through the door and placed it on the loveseat back in the living room.) “Hey… is everything-…?”

“I’m fine,” you interrupt. You’re not. “I just-… I remembered-… I have to go.” 

You catch sight of your shoes, hidden behind the ones Vernon kicked off just after you, and you hurry across the apartment to get to them. 

No bag. Where’s your bag? Where did you leave it? But… ah, your keys are in one back pocket and your phone is in the other and maybe it’s not the end of the world if you never see that lipstick again—

“It’s really late,” Vernon says as you bend down to re-tie one of your laces, hovering just a few steps behind you. “Are you gonna be okay to get home?”

“I’ll be fine,” you rush. “I’ll get a cab.”

“Well, at least let me wait with you until it��”

“I said I’m fine,” you insist, you snap, only now looking up at him again. He tenses, but his eyes stay soft. It’s not in the same way you’ve seen them all night, though. Not in a nice way. Not glittering and full of intrigue. No. He’s hurt. And like a wounded animal, he takes several stiff, unsure steps back away from you, swallowing hard and looking anywhere, everywhere else. 

“I’m fine,” you say again, trying to sound a little quieter, a little calmer.  Even if that is miles away from the truth. 

“Okay,” he says, unconvinced and wringing his hands in front of his stomach. “If-… I’m sorry if that was-… I didn’t mean to make you-…”

You shake your head, standing back up to your full height, but you don’t close the gap between you. You don’t reach out to him, even though you want to. You just have to blindly hope he can read your mind somehow — there’s no way to explain it quickly enough without leaving you both in a mess, and right now... 

“Hey,” you say, forcing him to look at you once more. “It’s not-… it isn’t you. I just have to go, okay?”

He doesn’t seem overly reassured by this, but he nods anyway. “Can-… you text me when you get home?” He asks. Then, hurried: “Just so I know you’re back safe. That’s all.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Yeah,” you say on an outward breath, cringing at how exasperated it sounds. You don’t mean it to — you’re really not mad at him. “I will. I’ll message you.”

Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Vernon takes another step back. He doesn’t say anything else, just shoves his hands as far into the pockets of his jeans as he can and watches you. 

“I’ll message you,” you repeat, opening the door, speaking more to yourself than to him. “I promise.” 

Then, you’re stumbling out into his hallway. Hurrying down the too-narrow staircase. Leaning your back against the brickwork outside, a light drizzle of rain splashing all over your bare arms. The stone prickles through your t-shirt as you slide down, as you feebly try to suck thick, damp air into your lungs, as your head starts to ache, as a dull throb starts to reside behind your eyes. 

It takes ten minutes of staring into the empty road in front of you before you feel steady enough to attempt to wrestle your phone out of your pocket. No matter how many buttons you press, no matter how many times you tap it, the screen refuses to come to life and you only now manage to recall the ‘low battery’ notification that came through several hours ago. Briefly, it crosses your mind to go back upstairs and ask if you can request a ride on Vernon’s phone. You know he’d say yes. Hell, he’d probably throw a blanket over your shivering shoulders and fix you another cup of coffee while you waited, too. But you can’t. The look on his face as you slid out his front door is burned into your memory like a brand and there surely couldn’t be anything worse than having to go back in there and face him like this.

Five more minutes pass before you find the energy to stand, to stretch out your bunched up muscles, and start on the walk home. Another thirty until you’re trudging, sodden and blurry eyed and heavy-hearted, through your apartment door. Three and a half after that before you finally manage to text Vernon to say your phone died, but you’re back, you’re safe. That you’re sorry. 

Barely ten seconds tick by before it pops up that he reads your message. (Followed by ninety seconds of staring down at the bubble that says he’s typing, waiting for a reply that ultimately doesn’t come.)

And four hours later, you’re still wide awake, lying under your covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling. You think you ought to be giddy, squirming, hiding your smile in your pillow — that’s how first kisses are supposed to make you feel. Isn’t it? Alas, you’re flooded instead with visions of the last time a first kiss felt like it made this much sense; in place of all the endorphins you’re sure should be ricocheting off every inner surface of your brain, all you know is heartache and dread. 

So you stare, and you stare, and you keep on staring; even when your eyes start to burn, you stare a little more. 

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. parts 2 and 3 are very nearly finished, as well, so stay tuned.<3

#vernon fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon x you #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #kpop fanfic #j writes. #re. high fidelity. #*

[milfsloverblog]

Oooh. How about a fic where the reader gives Brienne her favor at every melee and Brienne is just clueless

Tokens of Devotion

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!reader

A/N: I started writing this so many weeks ago, sorry it took so long anon! I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, it was a lovely idea!!<3

Brienne could hardly believe it the first time she’d seen you waving a ribbon at her, calling her name in the hope of catching her attention.

“Me?” She mouthed, pointing at her breastplate.

“Yes, you!” You nodded and waved the blue ribbon more vigorously.

The woman hesitated. What if this was some sort of sick joke? What if once she’d get close to you, the whole crowd started laughing at how much of an imbecile she was for thinking a lady would ever give her, Brienne the Beauty, her favour.

“Please!” You insisted, knowing the mêlée was about to start.

After a few more seconds of hesitancy, Brienne eventually made her way to you. She kept her head up and her shoulders straight, readying herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Thank you,” you said when she was finally close enough. “For a second I thought I would have to give my favour to another knight…And I really did not want to.”

The tall woman dared to look at you then and the beauty of her features nearly made the ribbon slip from in-between your fingers. It took everything within you to tear your eyes away from her face and tie your favour to her pauldron.

“I should be the one thanking you, my lady. I will fight for your honour.” The blonde said, letting her eyes roam on your face while you looked down at your working hands.

You knew it was simply a polite way to address you, but your heart fluttered anyway. Oh, to be her lady.

Your fingers lingered on the steel of her armour for a couple of seconds too long before you eventually pulled away.

“May it bring you luck.” You gestured to the ribbon.

“It already did.” Brienne said, giving you an awkward nod before walking away back to the field, her heart beating loudly inside her rib cage. Her very first favour. She would carry it proudly, and she would make sure to be victorious.

The mêlée lasted for over an hour, men falling left and right, some being disarmed and others simply yielding to their opponent.

“Yield!” Brienne barked at the last man standing, still firmly holding her sword in front of her.

It had been the two of them for a moment now, Brienne’s muscles burning and begging the knight to let go of her sword. But she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t want to disappoint the lady in the crowd who was rooting for her.

“I yield.” The knight spat the words out after another couple of minutes, being too exhausted to keep fighting even if it meant losing to a woman.

You loudly cheered when Brienne was announced victorious, louder than anyone else in the crowd did. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach at the thought that maybe your favour had given her the strength to win. Not that you doubted she would have won anyway.

Brienne removed her gauntlets and her helmet, slicking her short blonde hair back before she made her way over to you again.

“I knew you would be victorious!” You said excitedly, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent them from reaching for the tall woman.

“Well, I had to fight for both your honour and mine, didn’t I?” Brienne pushed a shy smile and offered you her hand to shake. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Brienne of Tarth.” You smiled and gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss on it instead of going for a simple handshake.

Brienne was left at a loss for words, her cheeks taking a pinkish colour as you let go of her hand. No one had ever done that before, certainly not a woman.

“Well, I suppose there will be people waiting to celebrate with you at the tavern. Until we meet again!” You winked at the knight, disappearing into the crowd before she could say anything else.

Brienne stood there for another minute, dumbfounded by the whole scene that had just happened until she was practically dragged to the tavern to celebrate.

She found that drinking did not help to forget the feeling of your lips on her hand, if anything it only made it worse.

When she showed up to the next melee a month later, Brienne wasn't expecting to see you. Not that she wasn't wishing to see you again; she simply didn't think you would come back for her. Why would you?

How wrong she was, she realised when she heard the familiar voice calling her name. There you were, a smile that reached your ears as you waved something that, from afar, looked like a piece of fabric.

Four long strides were enough for Brienne to be standing right in front of you, your heart once again starting to beat uncontrollably fast when you noticed that your previous favour was still tied to her armour.

“Well, will you start collecting my favours then?” You joked, showing her the piece of fabric that you were holding.

Brienne looked away for a second, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She had thought about removing the ribbon from her pauldron, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. Not when she was reminded of your face every time she’d look at it.

“It was only a joke. Although I would not mind seeing a collection of favours on your armour. Only mine, though, or I might get jealous.” You smiled at the blonde. “Will you accept my favour, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Of course, how could anyone decline such an offer?” She nodded and took another step closer. Looking down at your hands she noticed that the piece of fabric matched your dress, raising an eyebrow to silently question you.

“I lost my ribbon on the way here.” You admitted. “So I ripped a piece of my dress.”

“My lady, you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have!”

“Oh, but I wanted to.” You looked up into her blue eyes and pushed a soft smile.

Have you ever been told how beautiful you are, you wanted to ask, how looking into your eyes feels like swimming in Tarth’s sapphire water?

“The mêlée is about to begin, my lady.” Brienne snapped you out of your thoughts, her hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise, I was…” You shook your head and chose not to finish your sentence.

You quickly tied the piece of fabric to her pauldron, right next to your previous favour. And it felt right, seeing a piece of your dress on her armour, knowing that you two were now matching.

“Think of me.” You whispered and let go of her before taking a step back.

Brienne swallowed thickly and quickly walked back to the battlefield, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. She wondered for a second if you had cast a spell on her, if the ribbon and fabric tied to her armour were enchanted with a love spell.

The woman was brought back to reality by the tip of an opponent’s sword nearly poking her breastplate. She quickly parried the sword away, moving swiftly to avoid a counterattack.

You watched her fight for what seemed to be hours, cheering every time she landed a successful strike or avoided a blow. It almost looked like a perfectly rehearsed dance, the way she moved around effortlessly.

You could only imagine what she looked like under her helmet as she fought, snarling and groaning from all the effort. Your mind wandered and for a second you imagined her on top of you, groaning and sweating from another kind of effort.

It was only a silly girl crush, something that would pass in no time. At least you hoped it was. You’d heard about the rumours saying Brienne had had some sort of intimate relationship with Jaime Lannister. You knew you could never compare to the most handsome man in Westeros, if he was her type, you simply had no chance with her. It was only a silly girl crush anyway, it would pass in no time.

You were lost in your thoughts when Brienne was declared victorious, the crowd loudly cheering for her.

The knight removed her helmet and immediately turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together when she couldn’t find your face anywhere in the crowd.

-

“So, Brienne, tell us about the girl?” Tyrion asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What girl?” Brienne huffed a little too defensively.

“The girl.” He insisted. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve been fidgeting with that piece of fabric since we’ve sat down.” He said, pointing at the favour on her pauldron.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it about my brother?” Tyrion smirked.

“Tyrion-“ Brienne warned him but to no avail.

“Oh come on! He chose Cersei’s cunt, you will have to get over it someday.” He shrugged.

“Shut your mouth!” Brienne barked and slammed her hand on the table, the whole tavern going quiet for a couple of seconds. “This has nothing to do with Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw about that girl and me. Nothing is going on.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she always is the loudest cheer in the crowd? Or why she is the one you immediately looked for after your victory?” Tyrion cocked an eyebrow.

“I said I would not be having this conversation with you.” The tall woman hissed and emptied her cup before storming out of the tavern.

She almost felt like ripping the ribbon and fabric from her armour right there and then, grabbing them and being about to yank them off when she suddenly remembered how bright your smile was every time she’d acknowledged you.

She didn’t want to feel these things again, not after Jaime. She never wanted to feel these things again, and yet...

Love, what a disease.

“Brienne?” The tall woman’s back immediately straightened when she heard her name being called.

“My lady…” She turned around, her hand still firmly gripping your favours.

“Are you alright? You look…upset?” You took a step closer, gently wrapping your hand around hers. It was almost comical how small yours looked next to hers. “Would you like me to take these off for you?”

“No, no, I-“ Brienne closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” She asked looking at you.

“I’m sorry?” You frowned, confusion painting your features.

“This,” she said. “Acting like you care. Acting nice. How long will you keep the joke going? How long until you admit that you’ve been taking the piss out of me?!”

“Taking the piss out of-“ You huffed loudly. “You think I’ve been mocking you? Why on earth would I do that?! Why would I rip a piece of my most beautiful dress to give you as a favour? All for a joke?!”

“If not for a joke, then why?!” You could hear the pain in her voice, how it slightly trembled no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure.

“Because I like you.” You admitted in a whisper. “And I’m no Jaime Lannister, I’m no prettiest woman in Westeros, I’ve got nothing to offer you but those silly little favours. Those, and my devotion. I would never, ever be cruel to you.”

You barely had time to register Brienne’s hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into the softest kiss, her body trembling as if she was still fearing that this was all a joke. So you kissed her back with all you had, arms thrown around her neck to hold her close.

“It’s enough,” Brienne whispered when she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours. “Those silly little favours and your devotion, it would be more than enough.”

“Good.” You smiled, taking her hand in yours. “How about we share a drink, mh? To celebrate your victory.”

Brienne nodded, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you back to the tavern, holding the door open to let you in.

Tyrion grinned like the right imbecile he was when you sat down in front of him with Brienne. He introduced himself before turning to look at the woman by your side.

“Much more pretty than Jaime, if you ask me.” He smirked and pointed his chin at you.

You saw Brienne nod in agreement and looked down to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

Isn’t it crazy, you thought as you fidgeted with the ripped fabric of your dress, what those little tokens of devotion could lead to?

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #ser brienne #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #no beta we die like larissa

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

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#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage #Thorin x reader #Thorin x you #nonny asks #pixie answers

[slytherizz]

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way. 

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features. 

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy. 

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic. 

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her. 

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter. 

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose. 

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions. 

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour. 

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles. 

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl. 

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in. 

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would. 

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas. 

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe." 

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste. 

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry. 

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said. 

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best. 

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men." 

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.  

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm. 

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her. 

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you." 

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered. 

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles;  an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly. 

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited. 

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.  

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette. 

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past. 

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap. 

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."  

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him. 

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant. 

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day. 

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work. 

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of. 

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest. 

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith. 

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage." 

Liar. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life." 

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze. 

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips. 

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips. 

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse. 

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own. 

Not that anyone witch or woman had since. 

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another. 

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping. 

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.  

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise. 

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp. 

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious. 

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor. 

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air. 

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in. 

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon. 

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

 

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him. 

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large. 

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did. 

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge. 

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth. 

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread. 

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her. 

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment. 

Can't let it be her. 

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched. 

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought. 

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back. 

It's all the whiskey. 

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away. 

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue. 

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

There she was. 

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own. 

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest. 

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins. 

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke. 

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock. 

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun." 

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure. 

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones. 

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner. 

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved. 

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood. 

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back. 

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense. 

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet. 

Beauty. Terror. 

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity. 

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes. 

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair. 

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his. 

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands. 

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum. 

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own. 

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut. 

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound. 

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him. 

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him. 

#Please mind the tags #dark fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic

[hezzabeth]

Revati knew, as she walked back to Baker Street, that once again she was on the edge of things.

Revati could barely remember the first edge she encountered, four years old and holding a balloon while drones flew above.

The second edge, seeing her father’s twitching hand under the rubble.

And now, Amma standing in the doorway with Dusk.

Her arms were folded, and she glared when she realized Camilo was with them.

"Hello, Camilo," Amma remarked.

"Sugafanna! I haven’t seen you since…" he began.

"Jay’s last birthday; you drank too much of your honeymede and threw up on the walls," Amma pointed out.

"Ah, yes," Camilo blushed with embarrassment.

"And I suppose you’re here to help Revati with this insanity?" Sugafana asked coldly.

"Is saving the ones we love really that insane?" Camilo asked Sugafana, who sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I’m going to the station now, Amma; where’s Nanni?" Revati asked.

"I’m right here, Dimpy," Nanni said from behind mother.

"Don’t die while I’m gone; you’ve lasted eighty years. You can last a little longer," Revati said firmly.

Nanni pulled her down, kissing her forehead, and then draped something around Revati’s neck.

It was her precious Kasithaali, a gold chain dotted with gold and coral beads.

In the center of the chain, there was a tiny golden idol, its features finely carved.

The Kasithaali was ancient, trailing far back to the first Sheik born on Mars.

The coral beads had been picked from a long-ago dead and abandoned Earth.

"Nanni, you know I can’t take this! Raiders will try to steal it," Revati pointed out.

"Hide it down the front of your clothes! You will need Lakshmi’s protection," Nanni said firmly.

"You will also need this," Amma replied, sliding off one of her bangles.

"Why are you both giving me wedding jewelry? I’m going on a rescue mission; I’m not getting married," Revati asked as Amma slid the bangle onto Revati’s wrist.

Amma tapped the bracelet four times, and it suddenly glowed a faint purple.

"DNA approved user confirmed, current balance nine thousand six hundred and eighty-three credits," the bracelet chimed.

"It’s not a bracelet; it’s my portable bank account! You’re not going to go out into the world with no funds," Amma said as Revati stared at the glowing numbers.

"Is this a lot of money?" She asked curiously.

"It’s enough. Now here’s everything else you asked for... including your sister's hairbrush," Amma asked, handing Revati a bag, and Revati nodded.

"Good, well, I best be off then," Revati said, and Amma nodded.

Revati realized it was probably time to say something else.

"I love you both," she added before reaching forward to embrace Amma.

Revati firmly believed in only hugging on her terms.

Still, Amma deserved it.

It took a moment to realize that Brigadeiro Bun was politely following her and Camilo.

"Why are you trailing behind me?" Revati had to ask.

"He's following you as well, as well as what I suspect is the android wearing a cloak," Brigadeiro pointed out.

"I need Camilo to help me at the train station," Revati replied as they reached the maze's entrance.

"I’m pretty sure I can turn the train on for one ride; I salvaged a power cell from the dragon," Camilo explained.

"Well, I’m following you because you’ll need my tent if you want to survive the elements," Brigadeiro replied.

"You got your tent back, then?" Revati asked as they entered the maze.

In the distance, Revati could hear someone giggle among the leaves.

"Yes, Isabeau found it in the lost property pile," Brigadeiro replied.

"And you’re going to give me your tent?" Revati asked.

"I’m going to share it with you; it’s a two-person tent! My ex and I were supposed to travel together, but we broke up," Brigadeiro said with a small shrug.

"You don’t seem that upset about it," Revati pointed out as they turned a corner.

The giggling was coming from two small children in medical dress fighting with sticks.

"I was; then I went out to find diamond roses for her, and everything else happened," Brigadeiro admitted.

"So you’re going to travel with me for an indefinite amount of time? Finding my sister plus take weeks or months," Revati said as they turned right.

"Or years; when appliances want to hide things, they stay hidden," Camilo pointed out.

"Well, I’ll stay with you until we reach a public teleportation station; then you can keep the tent," Brigadeiro said, and Revati shrugged.

"Fine, that’s a fair exchange for saving your life twice," she admitted.

The maze suddenly opened up onto the grand entrance of Olde Landon.

The ticket booths, in the shape of castle turrets, had long ago been abandoned.

The giant Elizabeth Twin statue was covered in gently glowing fungus.

Revati stared at them briefly.

One of the queens was in a grand solid carved ballgown.

The other in a neat suit and hat.

Both of them had lizard faces.

"We have the exact same statue on the South West Sydney Space station; apparently, the lizard faces allowed the queens to live for centuries," Brigadeiro remarked.

"That was just a myth; come on this way," Camilo replied.

The park bullet train ran from the park to Leeryasoar, the country's capital. Years ago, the station teemed with tourists. Feet would pound over the shiny tiles, the exact same gold and purple as the domed train. Creatrix vending machines were constantly humming next to the benches. Revati remembered Amma punching in several numbers to get Dityaa a bottle of mango lassi. There had been a stand in the center of the platform selling park maps and plastic magic wands. Pink and red roses grew in orderly bushes. Holographic signs floated on the walls, stating that all data cloud technology would stop working inside the park. Revati had dim memories of her father checking the news on his communications bracelet before they went inside. The signs had long ago been smashed to pieces and were now nothing more than broken screens. The Creatrix vending machines had been looted and were now filled with spiders. The roses all grew in wild tangles flowing over the garden beds.

"Wow; these roses have gone feral! They're singing about how much they wish they could prick people with their thorns," Brigadeiro remarked as Camilo approached the abandoned purple shuttle train with his tool belt.

"Are we far enough away from the wall?" Revati asked.

"We should be! All the vending machines were, so they led the attack during the invasion! The only thing that stopped them was the station's power supply getting cut off," Camilo said, gesturing about. Camilo was right; the station was dim and depressing under the grey Martian sunlight. Revati nodded and whisked the cloak off the figure. The maternity droid stared back at her. Camilo had taken the time to repaint its face. Its lips were a deep scarlet, its eyes bright cheerful green. Camilo had also replaced its broken legs with bulky steel ones he had spray-painted blue with cheerful flowers painted down the side. The belly door had been reattached and was now filled with a healthy white light.

"Hello, I am your custom-built Materno 4000 Deluxe prenatal droid! Would you like to grow a new baby or link to your pre-existing infant?" The android chirped in a flat metallic voice.

"Pre-existing infant," Revati said, and the Android's eyes fluttered.

"Your pre-existing infant is 218 months old, is this correct?" The android asked.

"Correct," Revati said, and the android blinked again.

"Your pre-existing infant is currently out of detection range; would you like to create a new infant?" The android asked.

"No! I want to talk to the lady who was using you as a microphone before," Revati said.

"You have to tell it to open maternal communication! I turned the channel off," Camilo said from where he had managed to open the front panel of the train.

"Open maternal communication!" Brigadeiro said eagerly.

The android's eyes fluttered shut once again. There was nothing.

"I don't think we're far enough away from the wall," Revati sighed.

But then the humming began. A faint, child-like humming came from behind the Android's lips.

"Whispers in the motherboard, a haunting tune,

A phantom dancing in the light of a digital moon," Brigadeiro sang along, and Revati shot him a confused look.

"It's humming Circuit whispers! From the hit musical 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro explained.

"I've never heard of it," Revati confessed.

"You've never heard of 'The Android of Music'? Praise group! Once you've rescued your sister, I'll have to take you! Everyone needs to hear 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro said firmly. Before Revati had a chance to reply, the android's eyes snapped open again.

"Thank Krishna! Finally, a decent signal; it's been eighteen years," the android exclaimed in an incredibly annoyed upper-class woman's voice. The Android reached clumsily toward Revati, snatching her bag. Then it reached inside, pulling out Dityaa's hairbrush. The belly door swung open, and the Android shoved the hairbrush inside.

"Did it just do what I think it just did?" Brigadeiro grimaced.

"How else do you expect me to trace my daughter's DNA?" The Android asked, and then her belly glowed green.

"Right, the last recording of her DNA imprint was in New Singapore six hours ago! Let's go find my baby," the android said firmly and cheered as the train burst back into life.

#nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #science fiction #fantasy #speculative worldbuilding #ya #scifiseries #scifi story #scifi comedy #speculative fiction #life on mars #ya dystopia #ya scifi

[stariekis]

angel girl.

pairing : non idol!heeseung + fem!reader . gender : fluff + comfort . cw : skin ship and reader has a tattoo, nothing more i think ~ . wc : 2.2 k

— synopsis : he is everything you need when you feel at your lowest, your guardian angel.

— notes : feeling kinda insecure abt this one but it is such a cute idea so i'm going to post it anyways idc ! hope you guys like it tho <3 as always, reposts and all kinds of feedback are very appreciated babies ~

Your head was spinning. You had been sitting in front of your computer all day with your papers scattered on the table, you had not had a moment to rest.

The sun had already set. The light from the street lamp and the small lamp on your desk were the only sources of light in your room, making it more cozier. A cool breeze typical of a summer night was coming through the window of your room. In spite of this, it didn't feel like summer yet because of your finals that were just around the corner.

On the edge of your desk sat your phone which had been in silence all day. Turning on the screen to check the time you found a notification from the contact "angel <3". It was your boyfriend, Heeseung, a nickname he had earned after saying how much he liked the angel tattoo on your arm.

The message was from a few hours ago, in it he told you to take care of yourself and that if you needed anything you could talk to him. 'i miss him so much' you thought, spending that many hours without talking to him was killing you. You needed to see him and clear your head a bit so you decided to write him the following message:

baby ): could you come to my house for a while ?? I understand if you don't want to, it's already pretty late... but i really need to see you.

And without a second thought you sent it

Not even two minutes had passed when you felt your phone vibrate in your hands. you smiled at the message.

i'm on my way my love. love you <3

Turning your phone off you waited for your boyfriend to come.

Some minutes later your heard your front door opening. You parents weren't at home and Heeseung was the only one with a copy of your house key, so you supposed it was him.

Your assumptions were correct. You heard your bedroom opening and, turning around on your chair, you saw your boyfriend leaning on your doorframe.

— 'Hi ' he said, whispering, coming closer to where you were sitting with a smile on his face. You opened your arms without saying a word, waiting for him to hug you. As soon as he put his arms around your waist, he picked you up and sat you both on your bed with you sitting on his lap.

You pulled away from his neck to look at him, one of his hands now on your face caressing your cheek gently, admiring your features — 'Are you okay baby?' His bambi eyes looking at you with worried eyes. He knew how much effort and time you have been putting preparing for your finals and he was actually concerned about your well-being.

— 'Just tired Seung, nothing more really' hiding your face in his neck again he hugged your waist tighter and laid back on your bed, with you on top of him.

You felt how one of his hands went up to your right arm and caressed a specific place there, where your tattoo was. He always makes sure to remind you how much he likes the little angel tattooed on your arm and that it resembles you a lot because you are an actual angel, his angel.

You started feeling sleepy, the touch of his fingers on your skin, the tiredness and his arm still embracing your waist made you feel at ease. You were safe with him.

Feeling your breathing slowing down with every second he knew that you were starting to fall asleep — 'Sleep well my sweetest angel girl ' he whispered in your ear, leaving a kiss on you forehead.

He soon felt his eyelids closing slowly, feeling the tiredness invading his own body accompanied by the warmth of your body on top of him.

Both of you falling asleep on each other's embrace, feeling finally at home.

#— my work 📑 #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung enhypen #heeseung enha #enhypen fluff #enhypen sfw #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen one shot #enhypen drabbles #heeseung fluff #heeseung oneshots #heeseung scenarios #enha headcanons #enha scenarios #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha soft thoughts #enha soft hours #heeseung x reader #enhypen au #heeseung au #enha au #heeseung x female reader