#a hat in time coffee shop au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

revasserium · 6 months

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death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

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mooishbeam · 5 months

Text

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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byoldervine · 4 months

Text

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

#writing #writers #bookblr #writeblr #book #writersociety #writersnetwork #writers of tumblr #writer #writing advice #on writing #writing inspiration #writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity

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finelinevogue · 10 months

Text

when in rome

summary - just a few random clips from a holiday to rome

word count - +3k

pairing - husband!harry x reader

a/n - can’t lie… this could literally be set anywhere and there’s no real plot, but i hope yous enjoy it all the same <33

at the airport

“Hey, give me that.”

Harry holds out his hand for you to pass over the suitcase to him, claiming that he should be the one to pull it not you.

You were originally going to have two suitcases, but it turns out that neither of you were packing heavy and so one suitcase it was.

“I’m not incapable.” You sigh.

“I’m not saying that. I would just feel better if y’let me pull it.” Harry plucks your fingers off the handle one by one, distracting you with a kiss as he does so to make it easier for himself, before claiming the suitcase for himself.

“I’m not gonna argue with you at this time in the morning.” You give him another sigh.

You walk behind Harry as he directs you from the Uber to the terminal door.

It is holiday time and you and Harry have decided on a getaway to Italy, Rome. One of the most romantic cities in Europe and famous for its history and pizza.

Harry decided that you would fly Economy, rather than taking the jet, because it was more practical for a bunch of different reasons that you didn’t really understand.

Hence why you are grumpy now.

You had to get up at 2AM, to get and Uber and be through security before your flight leaves at 7:30AM.

Clad in one of Harry’s oversized hoodies and gym shorts, your legs are cold, your eyes are heavy from tiredness and your body aches from the run Harry made you go on yesterday.

You rub your eye free of sleep and accidentally bump into Harry as he’s stopped.

Harry is wearing a similar hoodie to you, because he couldn’t wear his favourite one due to lending it to you, running shorts and of course a pair of sunglasses and a hat.

“Sorry. After you.” Harry politely lets an old couple pass, which is why you were stopped short.

He turns around to you to make sure you’re okay and smiles when he sees you unattractively yawn. You look like a small kitten who has just been awoken.

“There better be a coffee shop somewhere in here.” You say as you walk through the doors.

The airport is already busy with hundreds of people buzzing to get out of this dreary country and into hotter destinations.

“Also, I love your fans, but I swear to God if one of them approaches us this morning…” You say.

Harry chuckles, “Yeah? What will you do, love hmm?”

“Turn into the Hulk.”

“I feel sorry for them already.” Harry smiles and you hit him in his arm as a joking reply.

You stand together in a snaking queue to check in and then to get through security, until you’ve made it to the other side successfully. Also, without anyone publicly exclaiming that Harry is here.

You hold Harry’s hand as you walk next to each other out of security.

“Y’wanna get coffee first? Or find somewhere to sit?” Harry asks you, hoping you’re listening but he can’t tell because your hood is up.

“Dunno.” You say indecisively, beyond tired.

“Let’s go find somewhere and then I’ll go get us coffees, yeah? You can just sit and look pretty.” He squeezes your hand.

“No. I wanna stay with you.” You wrap your other hand around his forearm and hold him close, pressing your face against his arm also.

“Okay, okay. Well let’s go this way then.”

Harry directs you to the coffee bar and you both stand in another queue as you wait to order.

“Y’want your usual?” Harry asks and you nod.

When Harry’s called over, he makes sure to bring you with him and scans the bakery section one more time.

“Hi honey! What can I get for you?” The woman behind the counter asks.

“Morning. Hi. Um, can we have one croissant, one pain au chocolat, one black coffee and one latte with a shot of caramel please. Thank you.”

As Harry pays on your shared bank card, you thank him with a small voice.

“Thank you.” You hug into his arm more.

“It’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head. He wants to kiss your lips, but he also wants to remain as PG as possible in such a public space just in case someone is secretly filming.

After you’ve collected your order, you go and find a table to sit at. You find a small booth that overlooks the runway, so you can watch the planes take off. Harry knows it’s one of your favourite things to do in an airport, so he chose this spot on purpose.

You make small talk as you eat, both of you sat on the same side of the booth so that you can lean on Harry to rest once you’ve finished.

You talk about the planes taking off and your potential itinerary for the next couple of days. Harry just listens to your rambles as he finishes your pastry too, because you couldn’t finish it.

“Can I sleep on you on the plane?” You ask.

“‘Course y’can, baby. Think we have a window seat and a middle seat.”

“Can I sit by the window?”

“Yeah. You can lean on my shoulder if y’want.”

“Please. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, love, you know that.” He kisses your forehead again.

checking in

You get out of the Uber first.

It is already so humid here in Rome and it’s just gone midday.

Your hotel is right in the centre of Rome, just a few streets over from the Trevi Fountain and then a few more streets over from the Gucci store too.

Harry made sure to book somewhere that would be accessible to the majority of everything. Money wasn’t an issue. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise you it Harry even booked the most expensive hotel in Rome.

The porter greets you and takes your suitcase for you. Harry tops the driver and thanks him with the Italian he’s been learning.

Harry takes your hand as you walk inside, thankful for the air conditioning in the building.

“Buonjiorno.” The man behind the desk greets you.

“Buonjiorno.” Harry replies. “We’re here to check in?”

You were a little early but decided you would try to check in anyways.

“Of course. Name, please?”

“Styles.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes.” Harry can’t help but smirk as he speaks. You nudge him, because you feel the same way.

“I have… Uh, Y/N Styles and Harry Styles?”

“Sí.” Harry nods.

“For 4 nights?”

“Sí.”

“Okay.” The man shuffles around some papers and types some things on the computer. “So your room number is 406. This is the fourth floor. You can take the lift up, which is just over there. Breakfast is included, which will be on the terrace between 7 and 10.”

“Amazing.” You smile for what feels like the first time since landing.

You’ve been so tired that you have found it hard to keep your eyes open and pretend like you’re alive.

“The pool is on the roof and will be open 7AM until midnight. The gym facilities are open all the time. Room service is three euros per call. These are your key cards and we hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Grazie.”

“Grazie.” You and Harry both thank the man and make your way over to the lift.

A few minutes later and Harry is opening your hotel room door.

You step inside and immediately fall in love. It’s decorated with marble floors and high ceilings with gorgeous artwork - probably that inspired of the Sistine Chapel.

The bed is a large queen size bed with lots of pillows and comforters. There’s a long chair at the foot of the bed and a sofa just across from that.

The most captivating thing about the room is the three sets of french doors, which all open onto a small balcony. There’s sheer curtains draped over the ceiling length doors, softly blowing in the wind.

Beyond that is the view that money did actually buy.

A view of the majority of Rome. You could see St Peters perfectly and Harry mentioned that the sun set will be visible from this room too. All the small buildings below and the little people on their way to work or tourists wandering.

“And?” Harry prompts.

“And what?” You twirl around to see him wandering over, after having shut the door and abandoned the suitcase.

“Is this okay?”

“Is that a serious question?” You raise your eyebrows.

You open your arms as Harry walks into you, wrapping his arms over your shoulders. He breathes you in and squeezes you tight and you follow suit.

“Mm. Want you to have the best time.”

“Harry, babe, this is perfect. More than perfect. Thank you for everything.” Your voice is muffled by speaking into Harry’s jumper.

Harry kisses you on the head a couple of times.

“Do y’want to go for a nap and then go have a wander?”

“Yes please.”

“M’kay.”

It doesn’t take you both long to get comfortable in the bed. Harry opens a door to let in a better breeze and the air con is on full to make sure you don’t overheat.

Harry lays behind you, where you’re laying on your side. Your hood is off now, because Harry likes to lean his face into your neck when you sleep. He likes to breathe in your homely scent and warmth.

His hand lays on your stomach, underneath his jumper, and rubs little circles with his fingers.

You start giggling and Harry asks what’s up with you.

“Tickles.” You hum softly, quite relaxed by the funny feeling.

“Does it now? Y’skins so soft, so I can’t help myself.”

“Won’t be soft forever. Especially if you keep on trying to get me pregnant.”

Harry kisses your neck and leaves a little mark with his teeth. His hand spreads over the span of your stomach and holds it there.

“Won’t care. When you’re pregnant, I am only going to love you and your body twice as much.”

“You say that now…”

“And I’ll say it again when the time comes.” Harry cute you off from any more deprecating thoughts. “Now shush. I’m trying to make sure you get your beauty sleep.”

exploring back alleys

You and Harry walk hand in hand down a busy street in Rome.

It is so hot and humid that your bodies are so sticky from the heat, but you hold onto each others hands nonetheless because you are simply that attached to one another.

Harry leads the way, walking around the crowds of tourists and past random shops selling art and Rome tat.

He turns around and catches you admiring all the colourful buildings and wonderful Roman architecture, and he can’t help but smile at your wonderous face.

You feel a tug on your hand Harry’s holding and giggle a little when you feel him pulling you towards a back alley.

He runs a little quicker and you have to keep up with him. You check behind you to see if he is running away from something, but no one is following and you think he’s mad for running now.

“Harry!” You laugh as he makes a harsh right and pulls you down another side street.

This one bends slightly in the middle so you can’t see the street entrance either which way.

You don’t have the time to ask any questions before Harry is pushing you against a brick wall painted apricot. He holds his hands on your face and presses his lips hungrily onto yours.

You’re not only hot from the weather, now, but also from how attracted your husband is in this moment.

You groan as he steps forward so he’s leaning infinitely close into your body. You sigh when he moves his head to the side to kiss your better, cupping your hands over his to get a guide on which way he will move next.

When he pulls away you sadly pout.

He laughs at your expression and decides to kiss you again, even longer this time. He kisses and kisses you until you make the move to pull away, before you pass out from lack of breathing.

You laugh first and then Harry follows.

Both of you have never felt happiness like this. Just happy being simply together.

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what, baby?” Harry laughs breathlessly.

“I don’t even know.” You laugh, cupping his cheek and flitting your eyes between both of his as you try to decided which one is prettier. “I do know that I love you, like a lot.”

“Only a lot?”

“Well, like as much as the universe is big.” You give him a warm summers smile.

“Oh well that’s alright then.”

He leans forwards and seals his lips with yours again. You kiss him with all the love you have pocketed for him and don’t let him go until you hear footsteps approaching.

It’s a man and his daughter on their way somewhere.

As they walk past, Harry and you loosen your hold on one another as you don’t want to display too much PDA.

Once they’ve gone Harry giggles.

“What?” You ask.

“Just thinking how that’ll be me someday. Lost in a city with our daughter ‘cause I’m too stubborn to use a map and she’ll probably be distracting me with her gorgeous face she got from her mum…” He trails off.

“That was an intense thought, babe.”

“Mm. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. Having a baby with you, I mean.”

“It’s been on my mind too.”

That’s all that’s said, but you both smile at each other knowingly that as of today you’re starting your future together.

dining out

Harry looks divine.

Dressed in an unbuttoned white linen shirt that sits on top of a white vest, with a pair of dark navy blue cotton shorts and his rusty old white vans, he has never looked so gorgeous.

It’s the subtle burn and tan of his skin that has you melting for him.

You are currently clipping his hair back with one of your small hair grips for him. He can do it himself, but he prefers it when it comes from you.

You’re both freshly showered and very hungry.

Sweet Disposition by the Temper Trap is playing in the background as you both get ready for dinner in your hotel room. After walking through Rome for the day, you spent some time in the swimming pool together and then showered together before getting ready.

“Y’look beautiful, m’love.” Harry says, watching you through the mirror.

“Thank you.” You speak softly, cheeks flushing over his compliment.

“This red dress on you is just… it’s perfect. You look perfect.”

Your red mini dress shows of your legs that Harry admires so much, and paired with a pair of platform sandals you look like a model straight from Vogue.

“Feel pretty, actually.”

“Good. Y’look prettier than anyone has ever looked in that dress.” Harry knows how to charm you best.

“Baby, you need to stop complimenting me otherwise we’ll miss our reservation.” You laugh, finishing clipping his hair.

“Can’t help myself. So lucky you chose me.” Harry picks your ring finger up and kisses over the ring that symbolises eternity between you.

“I’ll always choose you. You are too handsome not to.”

An hour later and you’re sitting at the restaurant.

Harry pulled your chair out for you and made sure you were comfortable before sitting in his own chair.

The restaurant is on a lovely little side street, decorated with fairy lights across the terracotta wall. There are ivy vines growing there too and the atmosphere is just peaceful.

There are a few families and other couples here too. It’s not a very fancy restaurant as Harry admitted that the best restaurants in Italy are the most homely and authentic ones.

The waiter was already fetching some water for you whilst you looked the menu.

“What are you thinking, baby?” You ask Harry, from where he is sat across from you.

“Maybe just a Margarita pizza.”

“Really?” You question his taste in food.

“Need something simple but good tasting tonight.”

“Okay, well at least get the bruschetta with me for starters?” You ask, wanting to share something with him.

“Sounds good, yeah.”

When the food comes, you feed Harry some of your pasta whilst Harry gifts you a slice of pizza. Both dishes are beautiful and cooked perfectly.

You both laugh and have the most amazing evening.

The best moment of the evening is when an old couple walk past you, holding each others hands.

“You two are so beautiful together.” The old man says.

“Thank you so much.” Harry smiles and holds your hand in his from across the table.

“Your love reminds me of ours. Precious. Forever.” He goes on to say and you have to swallow back the tears from how sweet his words are.

Harry smiles at you.

“Definitely forever.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles italy #harry styles rome #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles husband #harry styles blurbs #finelinevogue fic

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harryspet · 2 months

Note

I love rafe x reader x jj!

I had a similar idea to the previous anon, an AU where reader is Barry’s sister and in between Barry and Rafe’s schemes, Rafe and reader get friendly. And Barry tries to keep reader out of their business so she’s pretty sheltered and depends on them. And JJ is already dealing drugs with Rafe so he gets close to reader as well. And Barry gets arrested for selling drugs (or maybe Rafe and JJ framed him) and reader has no where else to go but to them! They take full advantage claiming Barry made lots of enemies (somewhat true) and reader must stay with them and never leave their side (not true) to be safe.

[warnings] dark!jj x reader x dark!rafe, reader is barry's sister, little editing 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

a/n: i started writing this idea out, enjoy :):)

word count: 1.4k

When the Chateau came into view, your blistering feet thanked you. Your legs were exposed, your white nightgown only covered half your thighs, and the underbrush from the forest had scraped your skin horribly. You’d never actually visited here, and Barry would have never allowed you, but an hour ago, he’d forced you to leave the house.

Heart practically beating outside of your chest, you climbed up the porch, your cowboy boots stepping over empty bottles of beer. You knocked on the screen door, probably a little bit too softly, but you had no idea who was going to open the door, “Y/N?” You jumped, your head snapping to the side to find JJ Maybank lying down on an old couch. He takes off the hat that was resting over his eyes, tosses it to the side, and sits up. “What? What are you doing here?”

Your body was already shaking, and your voice started to do the same, “I-I don’t have anywhere–” You wrapped your arms around your body, holding yourself tightly, “I-I d-don’t–”

JJ, shirtless and wearing khaki shorts, crossed the porch, placing a hand on your lower back, “Hey, it’s okay,” He whispered, his tone not able to hide his concern, “Something happened to Barry?”

You nodded, knowing your voice would just shake if you answered verbally.

“Come inside. The place is empty. John B. has been MIA for a couple of days,” JJ explains, opening the door before smoothly guiding you inside the Chateau. It’s eerily quiet, but you welcome the peaceful sound, finding it much better than the sound of Barry shouting and police sirens blaring, “Come sit, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

He moves a pile of what looks like maps, letters, and a stack of cash before patting the couch cushion. You sit down, still holding yourself to calm your nerves, and watch as he rushes off to grab a glass from the kitchen. You were appreciative – God, he had no idea how thankful you were.

“You mind if I ask what has you hiking through the swamp this late at night?” He handed you the glass, kneeling in front of you as he began to examine your legs, “You’re lucky the mosquitos didn’t eat you all the way up, kid”

Shakily, you took a sip from the glass, “The cops, uhm, they were coming. H-He told me to go a-and …usually he tells me he’ll be back in a few days. But he was getting … he was getting all his guns out and i-it didn’t seem like … I-I just k-kept–”

JJ’s eyes were fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line as he listened carefully, “Hey, I know you’re scared …I’ve been in your position so many times with my Dad. And I always ran to the Chateau too.”

You nodded, tears beginning to fall. Gently, JJ grabbed your face, brushing the tears away with his thumb, “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here, you’re not alone.”

“What will-” You hiccupped, “What will I do?”

You couldn’t survive on your own with a tenth-grade education and your ten-dollar-an-hour coffee shop job. You were always a good kid, but you were never book smart, and Barry didn’t force you to go to school after you started flunking your classes. He’s happily taken care of you for your entire life, your parents hadn’t been in the picture since you were five and Barry was ten. You’d never gotten in trouble like Barry had, and he’d made sure of that, never involving you in his business.

Befriending JJ was a consequence of Barry’s business, but JJ never involved you in dealing drugs either. He was someone to talk to, and he’d always come by Sunset Coffee after the morning rush and ask how your day was going.

“Let me make a call. Maybe Rafe will have more information about what’s going down, I know he helped him with a huge shipment the other day. We’ll figure this out.”

You thought it was a good idea instantly. “T-Thank you, JJ.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.” His smile made you forget, for a small moment, your world was crashing down.

Rafe was around even more than JJ. He could be nice when he wanted to, although you preferred him when he wasn’t acting erratically or getting into screaming matches with your brother. Besides that, you couldn’t even count how many times he drove you home from work and kept you from having an eight-mile bike ride.

It wasn’t long after you’d finished the glass of water, and JJ had started to clean the dripping blood from your legs, that a truck rolled into the grassy front lawn of the Chateau, “That’s Rafe,” JJ said, although it had only been about ten minutes since he hung up the phone, “He said he’d drive by your place, see what’s up.”

You stood instantly, and JJ followed after you as you rushed out of the front door. Rafe was climbing out of his truck when you rushed towards him, “Did you see anything?” Your pitch was raised, fear laced in your tone. That same concern you noted in JJ’s features, unexpectedly, you saw in Rafe.

A sigh left his lips, and nervous fingers ran through his light brown hair. “I didn’t see him; they must’ve already taken him down to the station. There were at least five Kildare officers, and I saw a few special agents, too. They were grabbing stuff from the house.”

You felt yourself sink at the information just as you felt JJ’s hand on your back again. Your hand found its way to your heart, and you checked to make sure your heart wouldn’t explode out of your chest: “I-I want to see him. Maybe I can talk to him, and he can … he can tell me what’s going on.”

“They won’t let you see him yet,” Rafe added quickly.

“It’s also one in the morning,” JJ spoke softly from behind you.

“It wouldn’t be a good move, princess,” Rafe said, his tone soft but somehow still sharp, “The police would just take the opportunity to try and question you about whatever they’re charging him with. They’ll try to break you down and threaten you with jail time. It won’t be worth it. It’s not what Barry would want.”

“What happened?” You shook your head, not believing that was real, “H-He would’ve warned me i-if–”

“You’re right. He would’ve warned you if he knew, so he didn’t know,” Rafe started, “I warned him that these guys he was dealing with were no good. He thought he was some kind of big-shot, dealing with those cartel guys.”

“What?” You gaped, looking back and forth between the two men. You stepped away, but Rafe caught your wrist.

“I’m sorry you’re hearing this from us, not him,” Rafe apologized.

“JJ?”

“He was starting to make a lot of enemies …” His voice trailed off like the words were painful for him to stay, “The Kook is telling the truth.”

“We’ll look after you,” Rafe said.

“Yeah, until this all blows over. It’s gonna take a minute. We gotta, you know, assess the situation. The same guys that ratted him out might be looking for you too. And there are probably people who aren’t happy that the shit they were going to buy off of him is now in police custody.”

“Y-You’re saying people might want to hurt m-me,” You stuttered out, JJ taking your other arm in his hand. Not only was your brother gone for who knows how long, your life was in danger. You found yourself leaning into their touch, letting them keep you balanced so you didn’t collapse.

“No–”

Rafe interrupted JJ.

“We’re saying we’re going to look after you until all this blows over. We’ve both had our ups and downs with him, but he’s had our backs more than once. We owe it to him.”

“I can’t ask you to–”

This time JJ interrupted you, “Trust us. Let us take care of you, Y/N.”

It was a perfect storm, both of them coming together to save you. You didn’t have the time to ponder how exactly it happened, you only cared whether your brother would be okay, I don’t have anything–”

“We’ll spend the night here. You should get some rest. When you wake up, we’ll go to Tannyhill. Everything you need, we'll take care of it,” Rafe assured you, and JJ seemed to believe it was a good plan too.

“Yeah, come on, kid. Let's tuck you in.” Neither of them were making requests, but honestly, you didn’t want to make any decisions of your own.

Together, your two protectors led you back to the Chateau.

feel free to send smutty thoughts/ideas for this pairing or anything else rafe x reader x jj!

#anon ask #dark!rafe cameron #dark!jj maybank x reader #barry outer banks #outer banks smut #rafe fanfiction #jj maybank #rafe cameron smut

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haosweater · 3 months

Text

perhaps i loved you.

content: idol! jeonghan x gn! reader, angst, fluff, past life au, coffee shop au, royalty au (just read, you’ll get it), unrequited love.

summary: a unique cafe down fifth avenue opens a whole new door of surprises for jeonghan.

word count: 1.4k

note: based this off the short exert i wrote at the end lol. totally not inspired by real life events haha… also i’m writing this at almost two in the morning please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes.

it was cloudy. the sun peeked through the smallest crevices it could find as the wind gently brushed against jeonghan’s skin.

he shivered, pulling his green cardigan on tighter. he reached up, grabbing his white bucket hat to make sure it didn’t fly away. god knew the wind was ruthless these past few days. jeonghan felt like the world seemed to be against him.

he hummed along to his music, walking down the street in solace. the cherry blossoms bloomed magnificently, its pink petals falling to spread its beauty. he looked up, admiring the trees with a gentle smile.

there weren’t a lot of people out this time of the day and jeonghan liked that. he liked the comfort of not being recognised, being able to go about his day peacefully. the solitude was exactly what he needed.

inhaling a deep breath, he turned and continued down the street. the shops down this road were vintage. unique little thrift stores, record stores, quaint coffee shops that sold overpriced coffee— wait.

jeonghan paused, staring into the shop. olive green bookshelves lined the beige walls of the shop. behind, there was a counter with coffee machines and cake displays. at the very front of the store, there was a table. it had two chairs with a typewriter sitting on it.

a cafe? no, bookstore? or was it a vintage thrift store? confused, jeonghan looked up at the sign.

‘caffeinated literature’.

‘how peculiar,‘ jeonghan thought. glancing around, he peeked into the cafe again, noticing no one was inside. he wondered if it was closed, a slight pang of disappointment filling his chest.

however, the ‘open’ sign on the door proved him wrong. his eyes moved down, and noticed the poster on the door, prompting him to move closer and read it.

enjoy a cup of coffee,

and let me write you poetry.

welcome to caffeinated literature.

it didn’t take jeonghan another second to push the glass door open, the soft chime of the bell ringing in the air. “hello?” he called out softly.

there was a muffled crash followed by a yelp, shocking him. “hello! just give me a moment! please, take a seat!”

jeonghan sat down apprehensively, fluffing the cushion beside him. the interior was cozy, minimalistic and welcoming. swinging his feet, he continued to observe his surroundings, not realising you had emerged from behind the counter.

“hello, so sorry about that! what can i get for you today?” you panted, handing him the menu.

jeonghan looked at you in awe. your voice sounded like sweet, smooth honey that dripped slowly into a cup of warm tea. there was a sense of familiarity to you, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“uh, sorry,” he mumbles, snapping out of his thoughts. “i’ll just get an iced cappuccino and a poem, please.”

you grin. “great choice. i’ll be right back with your coffee, so just take a seat in tbe front,” you gesture to the table with the typewriter. he nods, getting up as you disappear behind the counter.

jeonghan feels light-headed from staring at you. something about you was so enchanting, so magical and so familiar. he sighed, annoyed that he was unable to figure out what it was.

the aroma of his coffee drifted in the air as you brought it over. he thanked you as you sat across him, smiling as he sipped on it slowly.

“oh, wow, this is really good,” he remarked, licking his lips. “thank you.”

“it’s no problem,” you say, smiling. “now, for the poem,” you gently slot the paper into the typewriter. turning around, you turn the speaker on, calm jazz music filling the cafe.

“i know this sounds rather far-fetched, but i usually hold people’s hands to get a better feel of their aura before i write their poem. do you mind if i do that with you?”

jeonghan shakes his head almost instantly. “no, not at all,” he says, extending his hands.

you smile, nodding in acknowledgement as you take his hands into yours, slowly shutting your eyes.

jeonghan shivered, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the cafe anymore.

he was now clad in formal wear, standing at the entrance to a balcony. you stood at the edge, back facing him. the moon was bright and the stars shone in the sky.

“i didn’t expect you to come,” your voice wavered. jeonghan couldn’t speak– he could not control what he did.

“i’m here now, aren’t i?” he chuckles, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “what bothers you, my dear, on the night we are to celebrate?”

when you turn around, tears rolling down your cheeks, he freezes. you stare at him, sniffing softly. even when you’re crying, you look breath-taking to him.

averting your gaze, you sigh. “i can’t lie to you anymore, han,” you whisper. “tonight i watched you get married to the love of your life, confessing your love to each other in front of the whole kingdom,” you look up at him again.

“and now, i will confess my love to you, in front of the moon and stars.”

jeonghan is in shock. he doesn’t know how to comprehend this situation. it is all too fast, too quick– was this his past life?

“i have loved you ever since we were kids, han. my heart has held onto you tightly, refusing to let go. i’ve seen the best and the worst of you. i’ve seen all your flaws and imperfections and yet still i love you. i have been your friend, but never once did i love you like one. i loved you more than that. i would sacrifice the moon and the stars just to gaze at your beauty. i would burn the kingdom down if you wanted me to. my heart aches and yearns for your touch, your love, your heart and i know i will never get it, but i had to tell you.”

by the time you’re done, you’re panting, out of breath. jeonghan wants to rush forward and hold you, but his body stops him. there is no control.

“b-but y/n, i’m a prince and you’re a—”

“knight, i know,” you sob. “i prayed to the gods every day that my heart would let go of you because i knew i could never be yours, nor you, mine.”

jeonghan simply stood there, heart aching at the sight of you. “i am sorry, y/n. i am sorry i cannot love you the way you want me to,” he whispers, taking a step forward.

“it’s okay, han,” you say softly, tears staining your once rosy cheeks. wiping them away, you look at him with a sad smile. “it was never meant to be anyways.”

with a loud gasp, jeonghan finds himself back in cafe. he’s panting, eyes darting around vigorously before landing on you.

you were crying.

and so was he.

“sorry,” you let out an awkward laugh, wiping your tears away. “i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whisper, trying to stop yourself from crying, but the tears keep coming.

“it’s okay,” jeonghan stutters, quickly wiping his own tears. he wants to comfort you more, but he couldn’t find the words to. he felt like he didn’t deserve to.

sniffing, your fingers suddenly start to gly across the typewriter, the clicks ringing in the air. jeonghan observes you intensely, watching you throw draft after draft away. you were clearly frustrated.

finally, after his ice had melted, his coffee finished, you were done.

“sorry,” you say, removing the paper. “i had a hard time finding the right words,” you confessed as he smiled.

he looked down, reading the poem as you fidgeted with your fingers. his eyes drift across each word, heart clenching as he reached the last line.

“this is beautiful,” he says breathlessly. “thank you. i love it.”

you return the smile. “thank you for coming. i hope to see you again.”

jeonghan’s heart flutters at your words momentarily. “thank you for the coffee and poem. and who knows? perhaps i will see you again,” he chuckles before waving goodbye, pushing the glass door open as the bell chimed.

the breeze was stronger now, and jeonghan had to grab onto his hat again. with a loud sigh, he began to walk down the street, thoughts flooding his mind. it was racing, restless and utterly confused.

as he reached the end, he stopped at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. pulling out the piece of paper, he reread what you had written, tears forming in the corner of his eyes once again.

‘who are you,

stranger?

you look rather familiar.

perhaps i have loved you.

in another life.’

#seventeen 🫧#seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fics #seventeen fanfic #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines

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jjungkookislife · 1 month

Text

Love on the Rocks

pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

genre: established relationship, college au, 18+

summary: Thanks to Grandmother Jeon, your friends join you for Spring Break.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol use/mention, grumpy!koo, mention of a quickie, mention of condoms, food mention, implied smut

a/n: support banner made by @benkeibear

date: March 23, 2024

║part one║║part two║║series masterlist║

Jungkook groaned when you shook him awake. He tugged his pillow over his head, hoping that would let you know he was still exhausted.

Midterms had ended yesterday, on Friday in the morning. You had the rest of the day to pack your bags and head to his place for a sleepover.

Turns out, Grandmother Jeon had hit it big on the slots and purchased all your friends' plane tickets and rooms at the same resort you’d be at with Jungkook, her, and Grandmother Park.

You were excited to hit the poolside and relax. You had a large hat and huge sunglasses packed, bottles and bottles of sunblock, and a hot boyfriend at your side. You were beyond ready to relax after such an intense week of exams and stress.

Jimin and Hoseok were already up. You could hear them making coffee and breakfast in Jungkook’s kitchen. Hoseok had slept on the couch after helping you pick your outfits for the trip. He slept over to help Jungkook with his outfits and to get a ride to the airport.

Grandmother Jeon had arranged a limousine to pick up the eight of you and you had about an hour and a half to get your sleeping boyfriend up, have breakfast, and get Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Taehyung up.

“Baby,” Jungkook groans as you straddle him. Your hands are warm on his bare shoulders as you rub them. He moans when you knead a knot near his neck. “No fair.”

“Come on, Kook,” you whine.

“Don’t you want to sleep some more, baby?” Jungkook knows you normally sleep in. You’re often the grumpy one in the mornings.

Except for today, apparently.

“We have a schedule!” you remind him, kissing the spot between his shoulder blades. Jungkook turns, flipping on his back and ignoring the pillow that falls off his face and onto his bedroom floor.

“Do we have time for a quickie?” Jungkook wiggles his brows as he grabs your hips. You bite your bottom lip as he moves you onto his hard cock.

“I know you two aren’t fucking in there when the six of us are out here waiting on you!” Seokjin’s voice comes from the other side of Jungkook’s bedroom door.

“Go away!” Jungkook shouts in response, groaning when you climb off him.

“We’re going!” You shout back as you grab your phone charger, earbuds, and a kitty Squishmallow.

Jungkook stares at the ceiling, cursing.

Of all days to get cockblocked.

Once breakfast is over and done with, you gather all your friends in the living room. You have a list in your hand that you made for yourself in your notebook with the little rabbit on the cover.

“Phone chargers?” you start, making all your friends and your adorable sleepy boyfriend, show you their phone chargers and pack them. “Earbuds? Underwear? Swimsuits? Sunblock? Sunglasses? Condoms?”

The men freeze and stare at you.

You roll your eyes. “Come on, condoms?”

Taehyung smirks as he opens one of his carry-on bags. You peek inside and gasp as Tae cackles and shuts the backpack.

“Uh, looks like Taehyung’s got everyone covered,” you whisper, ignoring the rush of heat to your face.

Taehyung grins proudly.

“First aid kit? Toiletries? Snacks? Earplugs?” you continue reading down your list, making sure you check everyone has their plane tickets, bags, and passports by the time the limousine pulls up.

Your luggage has to go in a separate car provided by Grandmother Jeon and you’re grateful you can sit back and relax on your way to the airport.

Once you arrive at your gate (to confirm it exists), your friends run wild as they split up, heading in different directions for snacks and souvenirs.

Your boyfriend starts to head toward the snack shop with Yoongi and Namjoon but stops when he realizes he’s left you standing looking at the screen for your flight.

“Love?” Jungkook asks as he approaches you.

“Go on, Kook,” you encourage him. “I’m gonna find a bathroom and do my makeup.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “See you in a few?”

You nod, kissing his cheek before heading in opposite directions.

By the time you meet up, Jungkook and your friends have taken up two sections of seats while boarding begins. After a quick headcount, you relax when you have all your friends in one place.

Yoongi is on his phone, one earbud in his ear and the other Namjoon has as he sleeps on his shoulder. Seokjin and Taehyung share snacks, while Jimin sips his coffee and scrolls through his timeline. Hoseok eats a bag of gummy bears while waiting for the flight to start boarding, smiling when the first group is called.

You rise, dragging Jungkook with you as Yoongi wakes Namjoon.

Smiling, you greet the woman at the counter. You take out your plane tickets, standing beside her as Yoongi and Namjoon get their tickets scanned, then Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Seokjin, and finally you and Jungkook.

“Thank you so much,” you say as you follow Seokjin with Jungkook behind you. You wanted to make this trip as effortless as possible and you may have a little anxiety of making things difficult for workers when you didn’t have to. You didn’t want any of your friends to have their phones die and not have access to their tickets, nor did you want them to have their data fail or lose service or anything that could make this trip unfavorable.

The eight of you take up three rows of seats. There’s an empty aisle seat beside Jungkook as you take your window seat.

In front of you, Namjoon looks out the window, while Hoseok and Yoongi watch a video. Across the aisle from them, Jimin, Taehyung, and Seokjin are eating snacks, and deciding who gets what.

The fight will be a few hours long, but you’re hoping to nap for most of it. Namjoon is already half asleep as the plane continues to board.

Jungkook laces his fingers with yours. “Our first flight together.”

You smile, kissing his cheek as he takes his phone and earbuds from his hoodie pockets. He hands you an earbud, “I made us a playlist.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grin, taking the earbud from him.

Jungkook holds your hand, smiling when you scroll through the playlist to see all your favorites. Any time you’d hear a song on the radio, you’d smile at him and say “This is our song,” so he made it so.

The people finish boarding, and the flight attendants shut the door. You yawn as you rest your head on Jungkook, nearly asleep when the lights dim after the safety instructions.

Before you know it, Jungkook is shaking you awake gently. The plane is about to land, and your eyes adjust to the lights.

“Make sure you have all your stuff,” Jungkook reminds you gently as he puts his belongings away as the plane begins its descent.

Thankfully, the landing is smoother than you could ever imagine and after a few more minutes, you’re off the plane and inside the airport.

“Bathroom break and snacks?” You ask your friends as you head toward baggage claim. You know the closest bathroom will be less busy as the rest of the passengers wait to get off the aircraft so you rush toward it leaving your boyfriend and his friends behind.

Soon, you’re heading to the baggage claim area with everyone in tow. You almost feel like a tour guide, leading them to the correct carousel to wait for your luggage.

A man is holding a sign that reads, Jeons.

“Um, is that for you?” You ask Jungkook as you point to the man.

Jungkook shrugs but is distracted by a loud commotion at the carousel behind you.

“My baby!” A familiar voice fills the space as Minji rushes toward you.

Luna barks from her bag, not a fan of the sudden bustling.

“Minji!” You exclaim as you’re wrapped up in a tight hug by Jungkook’s grandmother.

“I’m so glad we arrived at the same time. You know I really do hate flying with Luna on board. It gives me the nerves and all that knowing she doesn’t like it. Oh, here’s one of the drivers. He’ll get the bags with his partner once you get them off the carousel.”

“Grandmother,” Jungkook says, brow raised. “Not gonna say hi?”

“Oh!” Minji releases you to hug her grandson as another squeal sounds behind you. Only this time it’s directed at Jimin before he’s wrapped up in a hug so tight, he struggles to breathe.

Yoongi chuckles with Hoseok as Namjoon and Seokjin grab the bags, pushing them to the side as Taehyung counts them to confirm they’ve all arrived.

“Can’t breathe,” Jimin finally whines as his grandmother eases up on her hold.

“I’m sorry, Minnie. I missed you so much,” Grandmother Park says.

“Come on, let’s get going. I’m hungry and Luna could use a nap,” Minji says as she directs you toward the waiting cars. Your luggage gets packed in one and the group splits up in two to get to the resort.

It takes a while to check in and pass out key cards.

Minji and Grandmother Park, Sujin, as she’d asked you to call her, were excited to check out their room.

“We are on the first floor,” Minji informs your boyfriend as she holds Luna’s carrier close to her chest. Though the two grandmothers had a place nearby, it was going through renovations and the two decided to stay in the same resort as the grandchildren.

“Wouldn’t you rather be on the same floor as us?” Jimin asks the grandmothers.

The two women exchange a look before they burst out laughing.

“No offense kids,” Sujin giggles. “But you’ll cramp our style.”

Taehyung chuckles as he helps with their luggage; Jimin guffaws.

“How?!” He pouts as he follows his grandmother into the room.

“I can’t be cruising for men when my cherubic grandson is hovering around, now can I?” Sujin sighs as she sits on the corner of her bed.

“Same,” Minji comments as she opens the drawer to put her clothes up.

“Gee, I didn’t know we were so uncool,” Jungkook whispers.

Seokjin laughs as he heads back into the hall. “We’ll keep our distance.”

“Call if you get into trouble,” Minji states with a firm look, eyeing every one of you.

“We will,” Jimin promises before he leads everyone out of the room.

The eight of you split into groups with your luggage as you hit the button for the seventh floor.

You and Jungkook are sharing a room. Across the hall, Jimin and Taehyung will share a room. Further down the hall near the elevator, Hoseok and Yoongi will share a room, and across from them will be Seokjin and Namjoon.

“Let’s rest and settle in before we grab lunch,” Hoseok suggests as he drags Yoongi toward their room.

Jungkook takes your hand as he drags his large suitcase in one hand and his bag hangs off his right shoulder.

You drag your suitcase behind you while your bag collides with your hip at every step. You’re still tired from the early morning and flight but you want to check out the resort and have a good meal.

Forty-five minutes later, you’re sitting poolside with a fruit bowl on your lap.

Jungkook lies behind you with his legs spread while you rest your back on his chest. He’s shirtless, enjoying the sun for a little longer before you make him put the umbrella up. As much as you loved the weather, it was too toasty.

Besides, you had wanted to eat before your hands got smeared with sunblock.

On the chair next to yours and Jungkook’s, Jimin and Hoseok have thrown their towels, snacks, lotions, sunglasses and who knows what else. They were already rambunctious with Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung in the pool.

To your right, Yoongi read a book while tucked under an umbrella. You knew it wouldn’t be long until he dozed off and you had to save his place with his kitten bookmark and dab some sunblock on his nose.

“Open,” you instruct Jungkook as you press a strawberry to his lips. He obeys easily, biting down before moving his head back to chew. You giggle when you finish the strawberry and offer him a cube of watermelon next.

“If I knew the two of you would be this disgusting, I would have gone with everyone else,” Yoongi huffs but his gaze holds no malice just teasing.

“Aw, want me to feed you, little kitty?” You tease in your best high-pitched voice reserved for talking to babies and cute little things, including one Min Yoongi with his kitten bookmark.

“Yeah, I’m out of here,” Yoongi shuts his book and heads for the bar.

Jungkook chuckles before he kisses your shoulder, his arms wrap around your waist.

“Mm, glad you’re here,” He whispers into your skin. He trails a few kisses across your shoulders as his hands squeeze your hips. “Though I wish we could sneak upstairs for a bit.”

You giggle, “We just got out of the shower in time to meet everyone.”

“They won’t even notice if we’re gone for a few,” Jungkook jokes as he takes the grape from your fingers with a tiny roar.

Fuck, he’s adorable.

“Let’s just put the umbrella up and finish our fruit,” You say as you pat his thigh and he scrambles out of the chair to do as you’ve asked.

“Already got him working?” Minji asks as she walks toward you with Sujin in tow. Both wear large floppy sun hats, oversized leopard print sunglasses, and bright one-piece bathing suits (teal for Minji and yellow for Sujin) with matching coverups.

“You know it,” you grin as the umbrella goes up and Jungkook rushes to open the one for Minji and Sujin.

“What a good boy,” Sujin coos at Jungkook, who blushes and murmurs thanks before sitting beside you.

Sujin looks at the pool to see Jimin splashing Taehyung with a water gun and cackling as he swims away. “Unlike my grandson! Who hasn’t stopped by to say hello!”

Jimin’s eyes widen as his friends chuckle behind him. He gets out of the pool with a sheepish grin.

“Grandma,” Jimin pouts. Sujin smiles and hands him a bottle of sunblock. “Get my shoulders.”

Jimin nods as he opens the sunblock and moves behind Sujin. Seokjin smirks from the pool as he picks up Jimin’s water gun and chases Taehyung.

Namjoon does a lap on the opposite end, racing Hoseok before Taehyung interrupts with his screaming.

Jungkook takes the sunblock and puts some on Minji as you grab a drink of water from the table beside you.

“How’s it going?” You ask as you put your sunglasses on. It’s definitely getting hotter.

Jungkook hums as he races Jimin, wanting to be the first to finish so he can get back to you.

“Pretty good,” Sujin answers as she swats Jimin’s hand. “Easy, I’m fragile.”

“Sorry,” Jimin whispers.

“Oh, hot grandpa alert!” Minji chirps, swatting Jungkook’s hands off her. “Go find something to do, kids! You’re cramping our style!”

“We’re cramping your style?” Jimin guffaws as he drops the sunblock at the same time as Jungkook.

“Ooh, he’s got a friend,” Sujin smiles as she gets up from her seat, taking Minji with her.

“I guess we’re on our own for dinner,” Jungkook chuckles as he watches his grandmother introduce herself to the two men Sujin spotted.

“Looks like Minji is the life of the party wherever she goes,” you giggle as you take Jungkook’s hand to lead him to the pool. He goes easily, kissing you once you’re both in.

“Hey! None of that couple stuff on vacation!” Taehyung shouts from across the pool.

“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees as he sprays you two with the water gun. “You did that on our last vacation!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “The last vacation is why you’re on this vacation!”

Namjoon smiles. “Fair enough.”

Sleep clings to your eyes as you feel warmth on your chest. You’ve tried your best to wake up early but after dinner the eight of you went to bed early and slept, the day’s travel and afternoon being too much on your bodies.

Now, you could decipher it was your boyfriend making you warm as his arm draped around your middle and his fluffy hair splayed on your bare chest.

After a shower and a lazy nighttime routine; the two of you had gone to bed naked, too tired to dig through your suitcases for clothes.

The clock on the wall showed it was just after 12:30 pm and you stifled a yawn.

“No wake,” Jungkook grumbles in his sleepy voice and you smile. You run your fingers through his hair, singing to him softly.

“We can stay in bed all day,” you promise him but he rouses, pouting.

“But then our friends will come barging in,” he frowns because yes, that is what usually ends up happening.

“We can ignore them,” you grin as you continue to play with his hair. He hums as he closes his eyes once again.

The next time you wake up, it’s an hour later and Jungkook is kissing you awake.

He’s in a much brighter mood now that he's gotten enough sleep.

“Jungkook!” You laugh when he kisses your lips messily. “I haven’t brushed.”

“I don’t care,” he giggles as he kisses you again, this time deeper as his hand cups your cheek. “Just want you.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of lovemaking, hanging out with the guys at the pool, group dinner, and trying not to cramp the Grandmother’s style.

You’ve spent most of the afternoon in the pool with your friends and Minji.

A romantic dinner with your boyfriend has just ended with dessert and flutes of champagne.

Minji, Sujin, and their dates for the night are at a table as far away from you as possible.

When you had first set foot at the restaurant, Minji had made a point to hide behind her menu. It’s not like you and Jimin had helped them get ready or anything but Minji admitted she was a little shy when it came to dating with Jungkook close by.

Minji wasn’t looking for commitment. She wanted fun and adventure, and nobody could ever replace Jungkook’s grandfather, so she didn’t even want to try. She was happy with her life, with Luna, her grandkids, and her best friend. She had it all (according to her), so you'd stay out of her business.

Slow music plays from the stage. The singer is crooning as couples get up to dance.

You spot Minji and her dinner date dancing across the dance floor, smiling at each other.

“Want to dance?” Jungkook asks after watching you for a moment. He knew you were admiring the couples on the floor.

“Oh, I don’t know how,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook assures you as he rises from his seat. He pulls your chair out and takes your hand to help you up.

“I’m not so sure about this,” you whisper as he guides you to the dance floor. He takes your hand in his and the other rests on your waist.

You place your hand on his shoulder and the two of you gently sway to the music.

“You’re doing great,” he encourages you as he pulls you closer.

“I love you,” you tell him as you look into his eyes. A small smile appears on his lips as he kisses you. His lip rings are cold when they press against your lips, a soft moan escaping him.

“I love you,” Jungkook said once you parted. The two of you continue to sway as the song ends.

“Walk with me?” Jungkook suggests and you agree easily.

The two of you head out the door, smiling at each other as you make your way through the resort until you reach the beach.

Jungkook holds your hand in his as you walk along the shore. The sky is filled with sparkling stars but they have nothing against the ones in Jungkook’s eyes.

The waves crash loudly as you approach the shore. Your bare feet sink into the wet sand and you’re glad Hoseok picked out a shorter dress for this.

“I don’t want to go back home,” you pout as you come to a stop. The waves lick at your feet as Jungkook wraps his arms around you. He places his head on your shoulder as he looks at the water.

“Me either,” he admits. He takes a second to kiss your shoulder and then your cheek. “It’s been nice having you to myself.”

You giggle, turning your head to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re greedy, Jeon!”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs before he faces you. “But it’s only because I love you so much.”

Your heart melts into a puddle of ooey gooey love for the man with the cute bunny nose.

“I love you too, Jungkook. More than you can ever imagine,” you whisper as he cups your face gently in his hands. You grip his shirt tight as he kisses you, slowly deepening the kiss until you moan.

With a soft smile, Jungkook presses his forehead to yours. Neither of you speaks as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

“You’re the only one for me,” Jungkook swears as he leans in to kiss you again.

The waves continue crashing as you fall deeper in love with him, wishing this moment never had to end.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #hfth!jungkook #fic: hfth #home for the holidays drabble #hfth drabble

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eoieopda · 1 year

Note

Can you please do a jungkook being dad or to be dad ?!?🥹🫠they’re freaking cute

aaaaaah! i love writing dad!bangtan 🥹

ft. established relationship au, unmarried jk & reader, mention of unplanned pregnancy, matching timbs.

No part of your life proceeded as planned.

Somehow, everything you ended up with fell right into your lap before you could think to seek it. One of those sudden discoveries was Jungkook, your now-boyfriend, who crashed into your life four years ago in the most literal sense — on a bike, right into the side of your car.

Things escalated from first aid on the sidewalk to compensatory japchae at a nearby restaurant. When his nose stopped bleeding and your bellies were full, the conversation kept flowing until the restaurant staff begged to be able to close for the night.

You didn’t expect him to stick around for all of that, but you were glad he did.

He became a recurring character in your life after that; promoting himself to series regular in the same way your sporadic coffee dates became part of your daily routine. From the café up the block to your jointly-purchased kitchen table, he was present at your side.

Your pregnancy came about just as unexpectedly. Only a year into your relationship, you pissed on a stick to confirm a hunch. You — perhaps unfairly — expected a negative reaction to that positive result, but what you got instead was partnership. Jungkook’s presence once again communicating his promise to stay.

And shit, did he make good.

For someone who didn’t plan to become a father at twenty-three, he was as good at this as he was literally everything else. A quick study, he could change a diaper faster than you could blink.

Jungkook made it all look easy, too; not exhausting, not frustrating, just natural. He soothed Jungsoo’s crying with minimal effort — usually with a song — and he was especially adept at keeping that smushy face smiling.

Best of all, you couldn’t identify a single moment in which the work felt unequal. He was adamant that parenting was a team sport.

True to form, he turned the dreaded, late-night wake-ups into a competition against himself. He’d set new personal records in both his response time and his resolution time. He’d be back in bed, wrapping himself around you before your sleep-steeped brain fully processed his absence.

Working full-time from home meant that you got to marvel at his talents in real-time. Watching the two of them interact throughout each day, you fell more impossibly in love with both of them. With their unbridled imaginations; their special, shared language; the eerily familiar way Jungsoo buffered through his confusion.

Because of your beloved boys, your house was full of laughter — every single day. You didn’t have to miss a single second.

Sitting at your kitchen table with your laptop open in front of you, you were halfway through today’s project. Jungkook had taken over the finger-painting session so you could meet your deadline without issue. At some point, though, you noticed a quiet you weren’t used to.

It was too early for nap time, so where was the giggling? The sing-alongs that made up the soundtrack to your day?

In the laundry room down the hall, you heard the door to the garage open and shut again. It was followed by slow, careful footfalls up the wooden steps; then an odd, metallic clatter that prompted you to stand. Before you could investigate further, there they came:

Jungkook, holding a step stool and a shopping bag from the hardware store. The pair of them must have slipped out unnoticed during your conference call earlier.

Jungsoo, holding his father’s hand while keeping plastic safety goggles on his face with the other. They coordinated perfectly with the toy tool-belt wrapped around his waist, and the yellow hard hat on his head.

Both were wearing Timberlands, though the smaller pair had zippers on the sides for ease of use.

“What are you two handymen up to?” You giggled as you placed your hands on your hips. Truly, the sight of them had you swooning; it would’ve been impossible not to smile.

The twenty-six-year-old exchanged a look with his three-year-old colleague; then the former held up the shopping bag. “The playroom ceiling needs a new eyeball.”

He said it matter-of-factly as if his explanation didn’t require one of its own. Jungkook noted the way you blinked slowly back at him, then he cleared his throat with a laugh.

“Sorry — lightbulb,” he corrected himself as he gently patted the top of your son’s hard hat. It shifted slightly at the contact, but Jungkook was quick to fix it. “I’m studying up on Jungsoo-ese.”

At the mention of his name, Jungsoo’s entire face lit up. His nose scrunched as he smiled, leaving his two front teeth on full display. You lovingly tapped the tip of that crinkled nose with your index finger, “I need lessons, apparently!”

Jungkook nodded, then knelt down to consult with his partner. He whispered something that you didn’t catch, and then Jungsoo went rocketing off to the playroom with a whoop. As soon as he was gone, Jungkook stood, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you in for a kiss that left you breathless.

“I can tutor you, baby,” he promised with a cheeky grin, “But my expertise doesn’t come cheap.”

“Oh?” You smirked, “Name your price.”

He kept his eyes fixed on you as he nodded, much more serious when he spoke again, “We can negotiate specifics after bedtime, but I think this construction crew would benefit from a little expansion.”

Leaning up onto your toes, you carded your fingers through his hair and kissed him deep. You pulled away only to murmur against his lips, “There are more eyeballs in this house than there are hands to fix them…”

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good-chimes · 1 year

Text

In honor of Life series four, Life Series Bake Off AU

NEW SERIES LAUNCHES:

Nation charmed by fresh crop of 12 amateur bakers including intensely competitive student GRIAN, ambitious cake artists BDUBS and SCAR, scientific bread experts TANGO and IMPULSE, and ETHO who has no discernible social media presence and, rumor has it, doesn’t officially exist. Married couple JOEL and LIZZIE raise eyebrows—will they be able to compete against each other?—but this is settled when Lizzie immediately announces she would murder Joel in real life to win and has bought the kitchen knife set for it, and Joel lovingly declares he keeps an axe under his pillow in case this happens.

The judges as usual are renowned cake chef PEARL, bread expert MUMBO, and our two inimitable presenters: BIGB, beloved by the nation for his gentle reassurances of weeping contestants, and MARTYN whose main contribution is his trademark eyebrow waggles as we find out from the judges who’s in trouble this week.

TART WEEK (1)

Tart week gets off to a strong start, with contestant REN charming both the judges and Martyn with his exquisite tarte au citron and his total inability to let a double-entendre go to waste (‘I’m just a tart triumph all over’ he proclaims, to Martyn’s immediate delighted riposte ‘Mm, but what do you do on the weekends?’). Law student JIMMY is not so lucky when a misreading of the recipe leads to ten times the correct amount of butter and a catastrophic oven meltdown. Star baker goes to early favorite BDUBS for an exquisite three-tier tart showstopper.

Week one elimination is, of course, the hapless Jimmy, and the recaps are united on two fronts: it's always nice to see someone on the show who reminds you of your own midnight experiments, but holy shit Jimmy, did it not give you a clue when the melted butter started pouring out of the oven like you’d stabbed the spirit of margarine to death in there. Jimmy's butter meltdown becomes a meme and he sells T-shirts; Joel immediately posts a picture wearing one.

CAKE WEEK (2)

Week two brings cake week and an impressive performance from SCAR, who embarks on a showstopper Baked Alaska in the shape of a snow-covered mountain. Tranquil in the face of GRIAN’S constant disparaging comments about his whisking technique and browned meringue, Scar perseveres and is crowned star baker for the week, while Twitter immediately declares Grian the villain of the season. A contingent of viewers theorising ‘could this be flirting’ are swiftly shouted down on social media and retreat to a dedicated subthread on a cookery forum.

Last week’s star baker BDUBS seems distracted by his new-found friendships with the quiet ETHO, who spends hours on the surprisingly unambitious Victoria Sponge. A conspiracy theory emerges that Etho invented the Victoria Sponge, refuted by weak counterarguments like “cannot possibly be true” and “he would have to be several hundred years old.” Meanwhile the nation is won over by JOEL and LIZZIE’S chemistry as they trade quips and spatulas, unfortunately Joel is eliminated after a jam mishap, at which he declares “at least I went out after Jimmy.”

TEA-TIME WEEK (3)

Tea-time week brings florentines and shortbread, but it’s a sad week for love as REN is out after his overambitious scones fail to impress. “I’m heartbroken,” Martyn announces, and cannot be consoled even by Scott’s superb showstopper petite-fours. Ren was a good sport to the end, everyone agrees. Ren spotted at a Covent Garden coffee shop with Martyn three weeks later.

HALLOWEEN WEEK (4)

The mood is jovial for Halloween week, with judge MUMBO in fake vampire fangs while ETHO bakes cookies in the form of anatomically correct skulls. LIZZIE starts off with adorable witch-hat cupcakes in little witch hats, then spends the rest of the episode precisely and effortlessly crafting a blood red mirror glazed sachertorte which the presenters refuse to look at because it “makes them uncomfortable”, and is subsequently awarded star baker for the most genuine aura of threat ever achieved by a cake.

Meanwhile GRIAN and SCAR continue to genially snipe at each other throughout. TANGO asks BDUBS to turn his oven off at a crucial moment; unfortunately Bdubs forgets and then blames Tango for relying on him, leading to the charred mess of Tango’s showstopper and a social media uproar dubbed “OvenGate”. Bdubs alternately sorrowful and dramatically dismissive. This cruel betrayal knocks Tango out of the tent; a public petition is started for his reinstatement.

WEDDING WEEK (5)

Puppet theater designer CLEO has her star turn in wedding week with ranks of beautiful marzipan figurines on all her bakes. An intense rivalry develops between her and wedding-enthusiast BDUBS, who declares his magnificent fondant confection a dry run for his impending marriage to ETHO, a stranger he met ten days ago. When asked by presenters how much of this is a joke, Etho laughs and says “I guess?”, which leaves the nation none the wiser. Unfortunately IMPULSE’S canapes are considered uninspired and he is uninvited from both the wedding reception and the series.

BREAD WEEK (6)

The feared bread week comes around and all the artistic cake-makers wobble badly. SCAR and GRIAN just scrape through, but CLEO’S triumph last week turns to tragedy despite the trouble she has gone to to model a realistic centaur out of sourdough. Bdubs makes an impromptu speech to camera about how she was robbed but he intends to triumph in her honor.

MEDIEVAL WEEK (7)

The experimental medieval week takes the bakers on an outdoor camping trip where they will attempt to build their own stoves and use them to replicate historical bread techniques. BDUBS’S enthusiasm for this and his drive to impress ETHO turn out to be his downfall as, distracted, he builds a stove that bleeds heat and fails to brown his bread. Etho meanwhile excels at both the survival and breadmaking aspects, leading to a divide on Twitter on whether this level of competence is hot or just very concerning, potentially the cake equivalent of a serial killer. The Victoria Sponge theory is raised again. Etho alleviates some concerns by getting lost three times in an open field over the course of the episode, which loses him enough baking time that dark horse SCOTT pips him to the post of star baker.

WINTER WARMTH WEEK (8)

Week eight arrives and five bakers remain: LIZZIE and SCOTT are known to be good all-rounders, ETHO is the reigning technical expert, SCAR remains the favorite on the cakes side, and GRIAN is mainly known for his habit of constantly sneaking spoonfuls of Scar’s cake mix so he can mock the taste. Social media opinion is divided into “Grian is a good baker actually”, “Grian is only still in because of executive meddling”, and the small but determined contingent of “no guys we really think they’re flirting??” who have emerged from their cookery subthread unbowed and with compilations of video evidence.

The set gets cozy with winter warmth week. Brandy-based showstoppers are the order of the day, and LIZZIE wins the episode by crafting a biscuit unicorn with a mane you can set on fire. ETHO invents an intricate brandy plumbing system to shoot flaming alcohol above his plum pudding—this attempt is in fact a good deal too successful and instead sets MARTYN’S hair on fire. GRIAN comes to his aid but ends up adding more brandy. Judge PEARL extinguishes the flames with a bowl of cinnamon milk. The judges are clearly not feeling merciful when it comes to the scores and Etho’s run comes to a premature end.

DOUBLES WEEK (9)

Some old favorites return for doubles week, where each of the remaining four bakers is helped out by an eliminated contestant on the other end of the phone. GRIAN for once assesses the limits of his own talents and asks to pair up with ETHO, a plan that immediately pays off when the contestants are challenged with a tricky technical that sees them baking the perfect pumpernickel bread. SCAR, having asked to pair up with BDUBS, is quickly underwater as neither of them understand yeast.

Scar’s floundering proves too much for Grian, who belligerently passes along his pumpernickel tips from Etho, saving Scar’s technical enough for him to scrape through. When challenged by Martyn, Grian grudgingly admits, “I just want Scar to stay in, okay?” Some recaps clear him of his villain status; others are still convinced it’s a fluke.

Meanwhile SCOTT turns in an efficient technical with help from CLEO and also JIMMY, who is apparently sitting in Cleo’s living room just to heckle Scott. LIZZIE calls on husband JOEL, but a combination of overconfidence and flirting distracts them both, leading to a burnt crust and Lizzie’s elimination from the final four.

MERINGUE WEEK (Final Episode)

In the finale, SCOTT, SCAR, and GRIAN face off over a series of escalating meringue-based challenges. Whatever alliance sprung up between Grian and Scar in the last episode is clearly water under the bridge as the two of them obsessively steal each other’s ingredients and annoy each other into trivial mistakes. This escalates into a noisy quarrel over the main challenge of the week: an edible diorama of a cactus ring. Scar’s attempts to ‘aesthetically correct’ Grian’s mountain diorama leads to Grian melting his sugar-spun cacti with a crème brulée torch.

The two are no longer speaking by the showstopper, where Grian embarks on a desperate attempt to make up points with an ambitious trifle in a castle-shaped wall of macarons while Scar builds his own grand macaron diorama. The clock ticks down. Scott is creating an impeccable strawberry pavlova. The trifle is going badly. Grian is covered in sugar and regret. BigB pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

At the last moment, Scar sacrifices half his perfect macarons to donate to Grian’s diorama. Grian, for once lost for words, grabs his apron and kisses him right in front of Martyn’s swiftly-derailed countdown. “Grian had a beautiful artistic vision,” Scar says sentimentally afterwards. “You have to respect the craft!” They snog behind the tasting table. Mumbo gamely attempts to award points. Pearl in a laughing fit behind the cameras. Martyn and BigB solemnly wrap up the shot with Martyn’s best cake-based innuendoes. Grian and Scar do not notice.

Scott wins the series. He got so many more points on the cactus ring technical.

#ethubs #treebark #scarian #zombiecleo #jimmy solidarity #i'm scared to use scott's tag he's on here #for blocking ->#traffic shipping

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

I loooove fairy!reader <3, imagine Eddie bringing her back to his trailer for the first time and he shows her all of his records and books and she's obsessed with random human things like the microwave

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

"-and that's the fridge, do not fly in there without telling me first."

"Okay," You hum, hovering beside a big numbered pad, "What's this?"

"The microwave," Eddie informs you, fingers pressing against a tab that unlocks the door's latch. Your wing narrowly avoids getting smacked as the door swings open, and Eddie turns his cheek so that when you flitter backwards in panic, your back bumps against his skin.

"It gets hot in there," He warns you, nudging your face with his nose as you regain your balance, "Don't shut yourself in there, and if you do, scream about it."

"I don't like the kitchen," You decide, beelining for glass stacked on the counter, "Are these for drinking?"

"Yup," Eddie nods, picking up the coffee mug you'd settled into, "What'd you use?"

"Acorns," You shrug, shoulders pressed to the icy wall of the mug, "Eddie, could I take baths in here?"

He glances at the ceramic on the side, eyes roving over a poorly-modified 'World's Best Husband Employee' mug that he'd been given upon being hired at the auto shop he'd worked at over the summer.

"Yeah," He snorts, "That one, you can have."

"Thanks," You grin up at him with shiny eyes, and he sticks out a finger to press it to your tiny cheek. You lean into his touch, "Where am I gonna sleep?"

"Uhh," He glances around the trailer, eyes catching on the hat rack mounted on the wall, "There! In," He rushes over, nearly knocking you out of your mug as he snatches one of the caps off of the wall, "This."

"Oh," You gush, diving out of the mug and into the loose fabric of the hat, "This is perfect! But I might get cold."

"Way ahead of you," Eddie grins, reaching for a basket of clean laundry and withdrawing a sock. It smells like fresh detergent, and you slide all the way in like a makeshift sleeping bag.

"Perfect," Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle, still holding the mug as he treks to his bedroom. He sets the hat on the dresser, propping his hands up on his hips and grinning at you, "And you can come to school with me in my pocket, sweetheart."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff

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barnesafterglow · 3 days

Text

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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yoonrimin · 8 months

Text

yoon recommends

STRAY KIDS

@feelbokkie >>>> don't let me love you

pairing: felix x fem!reader / chan x reader

summary: with the upcoming wedding of her cousin and her ex, y/n is in desperate need of a date for the wedding that will show the happy couple that she moved on

genre: smau, fake dating, crack, angst, fluff

status: completed

feelbokkie also has a lot of other content for stray kids that i really enjoy, i think that i read all her materialist so go and check her blog out!

@milkandhyunnie >>>> this boy is bad news

pairing: hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, smut, smau, college au, enemies to lovers

status: ongoing

summary: as an aspiring journalist, you are the news editor for the uni chronicles; the campus newspaper, popular for delivering breaking news at the drop of a hat and providing detailed articles about the various happenings around your university. you think you’ve covered every story there was to cover before you’re tasked with producing an in-depth editorial on a student whose name is on everyone’s lips—hwang hyunjin.

we love a good enemies to lovers in this blog! and the character development????? off the charts

@sluttywonwoo >>>> instead of you

pairing: best friend’s brother!lee minho x f!reader ft. han jisung

status: ongoing

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

series warnings: swearing, drug + alcohol use/mentions, menstruation mentions, angst, eventual smut

one of the best minho fanfics fr

btw you're going to see a lot of Kaili in my recs ;)

@skzonthebrain >>>> GO LIVE bangchan

pairing: chan x fem!reader

genre: smau, university au, established friendships, strangers to friends to lovers

status: ongoing

summary: you're crushing on the local JYP Campus Radio Host, Chan, but then again who isn't? You've always admired him from a far, thinking just like any other popular guy, he wouldn't give you the time of day. After a sudden encounter with Chan one day in the campus coffee shop 'Lifeline', everything changes."

>>>> If only you new

pairing: Chan x reader (gender not mentioned)

genre: one shot, established best friends with chan, angst, pining, fluff

summary: your ex cheated on you. you are heartbroken, have been crying for days and the worst of it all, you're now sick with the flu. thankfully Chan will always be there to look after you. is there a reason he cares so much?"

content warning: mentions of cheating, reader is cheated on, mentions of betrayal, character gets sick and pretty depressed.

>>>> what the heart wants

pairing: chan x reader

genre: one shot, nonidol!au, fluff, emotional, first confessions, best friends to lovers, established friendship with Minho and his fiance, established friendship with chan

summary: you have healed from the pain your ex caused and your close friend helps you realise you're ready to love again. will Chan still feel the same way after all this time?"

content warnings: mentions of being cheated on, emotional but happy emotional, mentions of pregnancy (not y/n), opening your heart to love after betrayal, nothing but fluff really.

i find all of the works of Ven pretty well written, is one of those writers that leaves you feeling the passion that she puts on her writing. i love them.

@kkami-writes >>>> waiting for us

pairing. ot8 x fem!reader

genre: soulmate!au, college!au, social media!au + written parts, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut(?)

status: ongoing

summary: at age 16 you either get your soul mark (in the form of your soulmates name somewhere on your body) or you become a blank, someone who doesn't have a soulmate. you've long lost any semblance of hope or comfort in the magic of soulmates, despite the fact that you have 8 of them.

content warning: swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, skz should be in horny jail, potential smut (MDNI), domestic abuse, sexual assault, implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal tendencies/thoughts, male x male relationships (skz are soulmates), polyamory, kms/kys jokes, mentions of homophobia + transphobia, lots of written parts, more to be added.

one of my recent lectures that i've been enjoying a looot. i truly recommend it.

@mazeinthemiroh >>>> all her materialist

i love their work, her reactions are really really good and well written. one of my comfort blogs tbh

that's why all her stray kids materialist is here, just so you can see and read it with your own eyes

@straylightdream >>>> 8.13

pairing: lee know × fem!reader

genre: one shot

summary: after a nightmare wakes you up your husband comforts you.

this made me cry its so good and fluffy omg

p.d: in the future new blogs are going to be added, these are my more recent and current obsessions of the month if am being honest. but they're here because of the history and the writers are doing a really really good job with their works which is highly appreciated.

♡♡ if you're one of the creators tagged here i wanna say thank you for your hard work and that i truly admire your talent and skills that give us those beautiful stories ♡♡

p.d. 2: i apologize if there are any mistakes, english is not my first language, if you find any please let me know so i can get better!

xoxo, yoon's out!

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #lee felix #seungmin #i.n #stray kids recs #han jisung #kpop smau #skzonthebrain 💜#kkami

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the-travelling-witch · 10 months

Text

𝐀𝐂𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄

summary: when the mysterious guy coming into the coffee shop asks you to join him for a concert, you hardly believe your eyes when you meet him there

pairing: idol! childe x student! barista! gn! reader

warnings: suggestive at the end, otherwise fluffy

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

Working part-time in a coffee shop wasn’t half bad. Sure, as with every job in the service sector, some people just didn’t know how to behave themselves but there were also just as sweet interactions. Your co-worker also made stressful situations a whole lot more bearable, always ready to help you out if needed and handling even the grumpiest customers with ease. Besides all of that, as a college student basically running on caffeine, getting some insight into the business was an added plus as well.

As you got ready for your morning shift on a Wednesday like every other, you greeted your colleague and surveyed the almost empty shop. A few people were typing away at their laptops, others were reading and a steady amount of customers with to-go orders came in. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

About half an hour in, you were asked to take care of the register while your co-worker went to restock some stuff and things were going well, no fumbling with cash or mistyping any orders. The only note-worthy event of the shift was when a guy dressed in baggy clothes, a bucket hat, a mask and sunglasses came in. If you had to guess he was about your age but it was hard to say with his entire face obscured. Not thinking too much about it, you concluded you had seen weirder characters before.

Until you met him again on your Friday night shift right before closing time. This time again in an all black outfit, shaded glasses on even at that time of the day. Same thing on Wednesday as well. But when you asked if that guy was a regular you had never met before, you learnt that he’d only started showing up recently and that nobody knew much about him except for that he talked the bare minimum while being polite and leaving a generous tip from time to time. He also never showed up during rush hours, only when the shop was relatively empty.

Friday, like clock-work, he was back and when he ordered you couldn’t suppress the cheeky “One iced Americano for the mystery man” that slipped past your lips a little too quickly. The first few heartbeats after, you were terrified you had offended him, that he’d ask to talk to your manager and you’d get in big trouble for being out of line.

But then he started chuckling and pulled his mask down as he leant forward onto the counter. Hooking his pointer finger around one temple of his sunglasses, he slipped them partially down his nose and your first thought was what a shame it was to hide a face like that. Eyes as blue as the ocean and teeth as white as pearls, he looked like someone straight out of a novel, who should not exist in real life. And without his mask muffling it, his voice was smooth and melodic and it made you want to hear more of it.

“The mystery man thanks his cute barista,” he mused, lips curled into a playful grin. And then, this guy had the audacity to wink at you before sliding his accessories back into place, taking his coffee and sauntering out the door as if nothing happened. Meanwhile you were still blinking at the glass he just disappeared through.

It was just one sentence yet it was enough to pull your thoughts back to the beautiful stranger. Sure, he might not have meant anything serious by it but he called you cute for crying out loud! On more than one occasion, it had you burying your face in your hands at the memory.

So, much to your delight, the next times he stopped by, when he came up to the counter to see you working there, he always pulled his sunglasses down and generally talked more, not necessarily about himself though. It was your co-worker that informed you the guy only did that when you were working the counter, never with anyone else, and that statement had no right to give you as many butterflies as it did.

“So,” blue eyes sparkled down on you as you handed him his change, “I’ve been thinking. And I realised I hardly know anything about the pretty face behind the counter. Quite the shame, don’t you think?”

“Well, uh…” you awkwardly laughed. Pointing to your name tag, you said, “I guess you know my name already… I really don’t know what else to share.”

“Aw c’mon, don’t sell yourself short,” he smiled. “I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting things about you. Okay, let me help you out… Do you like idols by chance?”

“Uhm, I do I guess,” you tried stringing together an answer. Not really the question you expected to be honest. “There were a few groups I followed more closely but lately I’ve not been keeping up much. I’m pretty interested in music in general though.”

“I see, I see.” Leaning forward again and lowering his voice, prompting you to do the same, he continued as if he was sharing a secret. “The thing is, I have concert tickets for an idol group next weekend and I don’t feel like going alone. Care to join me?”

“Did you really spark this whole round-about conversation just to ask that?”

The guy laughed. “Maybe~ So, what do you say?”

“I-” Were you really about to take him up on the offer? No… Were you really about to reject a date with this guy? If you planned to meet at the concert hall, there’d also be a crowd around. “Sure, I’d love to go.”

“Great,” he beamed, shooting back up with energy to rival a golden retriever. “You’ll be here on Wednesday, right? I’ll give you the ticket then!”

“I can hardly wait,” you laughed, his enthusiasm contagious. “How much do I owe you?”

“Owe me? Oh please, it’s free of charge.” Before you could protest, he already held up his hand to shush you. “I have the ticket already anyway and you’re doing me the honour of your company. Really, don’t worry about it.”

That was how you found yourself trading a coffee for a ticket the following week, a sticky note with a phone number attached, the name Ajax scribbled underneath. Luckily, it was close to the end of your shift because you felt like you could explode from excitement. Walking out of the coffee shop, reality started to sink in; you were going to a concert, with a cute guy, that same weekend… You pulled out your phone and quickly scrolled through your recent calls and barely waited for the other person to greet you.

“Kaveh, I need your help with an outfit.”

Three days and a very stressful outfit and make-up session later, your entire closet had been uprooted and strewn across your room and you still had no idea who “Vizion”, the group you were going to see, was. You really wanted to check them out before the concert but, as it tended to do, life got in the way and the only info you had was that the four members were a fairly new rookie group with some sought-after trainees and a lot of potential, signed under the reputable Lapis Dei Entertainment. But that was about it.

Taking a deep breath, you checked once again if you had the ticket when the concert hall came into view. The venue wasn’t all that big, understandably so for a group still trying to grow their fanbase, and you had relatively little trouble finding the meeting place you and Ajax had agreed upon. As you waited for him to show, more and more people started filling the open space and their excited chatter and laughter was contagious, helping you calm down a little. Just when you went to check the time again, a message came in.

Ajax: I’m so sorry, I’m running late!

Ajax: Please go in without me, I’ll catch up with you later!

Ajax: Again, so so sorry!!

Okay, no need to panic. You could navigate this venue on your own and totally weren’t banking on Ajax’s expertise; this was a walk in the park, right? Yeah, except for the fact you were already struggling to make out where you had to go after passing the general entrance. Apparently a group of fans saw you staring down on your ticket in confusion and decided to take pity on you.

“Heya there!” A guy with two braids framing his face greeted you. “No offence but you’re looking a little lost. First time at a concert?”

“Uh, yeah actually,” you sheepishly replied. “To be honest, I have to idea how to get to my spot.”

“Let me take a look at your ticket,” he beamed and as you handed it to him, a blond and an auburn haired guy peeked over his shoulder as well, while their white-haired friend stood to the side giving you a friendly smile. “Oh hey, what a coincidence! We’re headed to the same area! If you want you can tag along!”

“Thanks, that’d be a great help.”

“You must have really looked forward to seeing Vizion if you’re willing to go to your first concert on your own,” the blond smiled. “That takes some courage.”

“Oh, I was actually meeting with a friend,” you said as the group started moving. “He said he’s running late though. It was his idea to come here, so I don’t actually know too much about the group performing tonight. Are you guys fans of them?”

��I guess you could say that,” Heizou, as he had introduced himself, hummed. “Actually, we know some of the members from before they debuted, so we’re here to show our support or something like that.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you,” you smiled. “They must be happy to have their friends here.”

“Well, we’ve not been in very close contact for a while,” Kazuha corrected. “Plus, they don’t quite know we’re attending. Thoma would probably freak if he did.”

Sooner than you expected, you found yourself surrounded by other people, some of whom carried signs or wore shirts with names printed on them. You recognised the name of the friend Venti and his group had been talking about; for the others you drew a blank. To your surprise, you ended up a lot closer to the stage than expected; hopefully Ajax would find you here. After all, you mainly came out to spend time with him, not to see Vizion; although going to a concert was a nice bonus.

Passing time by chatting with your new acquaintances, you found out they ran a piercing and tattoo studio not far from the coffee shop together with two more guys. Now that they mentioned it, you did seem to recall your favourite co-worker mentioning something along those lines.

Before you knew it, the lights on stage shifted and the crowd went wild, making you jump out of your skin with surprise. Then, your attention was drawn by the four figures appearing on stage. As a man with blond hair and chartreuse green eyes stepped forward, the men next to you started hollering and cheering like crazy, giving you a hunch as to who he was. Due to the rather small venue for an idol group, he could probably hear them too, making it a point to interact with the other side of the audience while his fellow members covered this one.

And then, fluffy ginger hair and azure eyes captured your attention.

There was no mistaking him. It was the mysterious guy from the coffee shop, who you’d gotten to know as Ajax, making fans scream as he winked in your general direction, a cocky grin decorating his handsome face.Waving into the crowd some more and playing along with the people gathered in the arena, it was clear he was a natural at working the crowd and capitalising on their excitement. Gathering at the centre of the stage, they formed a line.

“Look ahead! Hello, we are,” Thoma started before the rest chimed in, “Vizion! Thank you to all our Fates who are here tonight!”

The crowd broke into wild applause and shouts as they bowed, one or the other shriek of a name piercing through the noise. One by one, the members were introduced; starting by Thoma, the leader of the group, to Chongyun, the icy-haired dance prodigy and Yanqing, the long-haired wonderchild, the youngest of the group. When Thoma lifted his mic, there was only one person left to be introduced and it would be a lie if you said you weren’t brimming with curiosity.

“Last but not least, please let me introduce our ace, Childe,” the blond announced, waiting for the ruckus to die down before continuing. “Whether it’s rap, vocals or dancing, our oldest will be sure to pull you in with his siren-like voice and visuals.”

“Not to mention that he’s as loud and obnoxious as a siren too,” the guy next to Thoma quipped into his own mic, earning him a few chuckles.

Although you thought at first Thoma was exaggerating when it came to Ajax’s -or rather Childe’s- abilities, you were very quickly proven wrong. Whether it was the fast-paced lines of a verse or the moving high notes of a ballad, you were hanging onto his every word, emotions stirring in your chest and the music flowing through you. Suddenly you understood why sailors jumped overboard after hearing a siren’s song; no wonder you couldn’t get enough of his magnetic voice the first time you heard it.

Time flew without you noticing it. What felt like minutes ended up being hours of you giving a certain someone on stage your undivided attention as you couldn’t physically tear your eyes away from his smooth and fluid movements. Despite not knowing the songs, the energy surrounding you had you jumping with everyone else and picking up on the fan chant as well.

Maybe it was your imagination, but you could’ve sworn Childe was coming over to your side of the venue more often than elsewhere, winking and blowing kisses to fans around you who melted at the attention. There was a spark in his eyes as he stood on stage, as if performing had him coming truly alive and, perhaps for just a second, you envied his passion. But most of all, you were happy for him.

The absolute kicker of the show, in your opinion anyway, was when Childe disappeared backstage just to come back holding an electric guitar. Playing a few chords to tease the beginning of a song, he soaked up the crowd’s reaction before getting serious. And stars above, he was better than good. Moving across the stage past Chongyun on the drums, leaning in to share a mic with Thoma, his fingers dancing skillfully over the strings as sweat rolled down his temple, toned arms on full display, the image ingrained itself into your brain. You genuinely wondered if there was something he couldn’t do.

Sadly, every good thing had to come to an end, so eventually the artists said their final goodbyes, thanking everybody for coming out to support them, and disappeared under the stage while being showered in thunderous applause. Even as you drifted outside in the sea of people exiting the venue, your heartbeat still wouldn’t slow down as you finally had time to sort out your thoughts. The guy you planned to meet was an idol! That realisation hit you like a ton of bricks and your brain flashed you a slideshow of every possible embarrassing moment in his presence. Very helpful, much appreciated.

“Too bad your friend never showed, huh,” Venti threw out as you finally were under open skies again. “He did miss out on not only spending time with you but also on a good show.”

“Oh he’s here actually.” Not technically a lie, you guessed. Holding up your phone you added, “He just never made it to where we were but I’m hoping I can find him somewhere now.”

“You sure?” Kazuha asked, head tilted to the side. “Should we wait with you? Do you have a way to get home?”

“Oh, I’m fine really. I appreciate the concern though,” you smiled. “Thanks for everything tonight. I really would’ve been lost without you guys.”

“No problem! As long as you had fun,” Aether chimed before waving as they took their leave. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Yeah and if you ever think about getting a tattoo or a piercing, think of us!” That was definitely Heizou shouting. What a bunch of dorks.

Waiting a few more minutes so you could be sure you wouldn’t run into them again and would have to explain yourself, you got ready to leave. Despite what you said, you were well aware there was absolutely no way you could meet Ajax right now. The way home was uneventful, yet it did nothing to quell the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw an ocean blue gaze and a pearly smile. Damn it, were you really crushing on an idol? Well, technically you had been before you knew he was an idol… Shaking your head, you hoped to derail that train of thought before it could even leave the station.

Plopping down on your bed, you stared at your phone trying to figure out what to do now. What did you say in a situation like this? Where would you go from here? With a groan, you discarded your phone somewhere on your mattress and let your back hit your bed before whirling around at the sound of your ringtone. Glaring at you in the dimly lit room was the caller info of the one person your thoughts were racing around.

“Hi there~” An amused voice greeted you right as you swiped the green icon to the right. “I hope you had fun today.”

“Bold move for someone who never showed up,” you tried to tease, hoping to downplay the nerves thumping up your throat. “You’re putting in quite the effort just to get people to attend your concerts, you know. I don’t think it’s an effective marketing tactic, Childe.”

On the other end of the line you could hear chuckling. “Listen, I really am sorry for pulling that stunt on you, but I didn’t want to ruin the element of surprise of it all. I’ll think of a way to make it up to you; can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to think. “Maybe… But in all seriousness, I did have fun tonight and you did a great job. I think I’m gonna be hoarse from all the screaming tomorrow.”

The second the words left your mouth, you wanted to pull them back in. But hearing Ajax’ s smug voice confirmed it was too late as you could basically see his shit-eating grin through the phone.

“Oh really?~” Ajax drawled. “I’ll have to hear you do that again for me, perhaps with less people around.”

“You are the absolute worst.”

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact modern au #genshin modern au #childe x reader #childe fluff #genshin impact childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #childe genshin impact

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gimmethatagustd · 2 months

Text

venor (3) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 3,419

○ Warnings: None

○ Notes: Honestly, I feel sorry for Yoongi. He's doing his best 🫠

○ Post Date: February 18, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Biting his bottom lip, Jungkook stares at the text message’s timestamp from five minutes ago. He cups his phone in his hands to block anyone from peering at the screen and dims the screen’s brightness, just in case the predators standing in line with him get nosy.

He’s at the cafe.

Obviously, he’s at the cafe.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and Jungkook has no idea if Taehyung works weekends, but he’s here at Venor Cafe, waiting in line between a lizard hybrid and a jaguar hybrid. This time, though, Jungkook came prepared. He’s wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that falls past his butt. He used one of Yoongi’s hair ties to secure his ears and stuff them inside his bucket hat. Totally incognito. He could be a tiger, for all they know!

The thing is, Jungkook genuinely needs some caffeine. He’s taking a break from studying with Yoongi in the music studios, and Venor Cafe is the coffee shop closest to campus that isn’t overpriced. The possibility of seeing Taehyung is an added bonus, just a tiny extra component to the self-care errand Jungkook was planning to run anyway.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

There’s a little jitter to Jungkook’s movements as he approaches the counter. His wide eyes scan the employees, and his heart sinks when there’s not a single copper curl in sight.

“Hello! Welcome to Venor Cafe; what would you like today?” the hybrid at the register greets. She’s a snow leopard with beautiful blue eyes and a spotted tail.

Exhaling the air he’d been holding in, Jungkook rambles off his order without any mishaps. He even orders something for Yoongi, hoping it can be a sufficient apology for going against his hyung’s advice. It’s nice of Yoongi to be worried about Jungkook, but at this point, Jungkook thinks he has made it clear that he can take care of himself. Just look at him now! A prey in disguise.

Despite the crowd that has gathered in the cafe, Jungkook receives his order fairly quickly. He lingers for a bit, folding napkins into the pockets of his sweatpants and unwrapping straws for both drinks he bought. Eventually, he runs out of things to keep himself busy and can no longer stall.

“Um, excuse me?” Jungkook calls out from the side of the counter.

The snow leopard hybrid looks up from the drink she’s preparing. “Yes?”

“Is, um, Taehyung working today?”

“Who’s asking?” Her tone isn’t necessarily aggressive, but the downturn of her mouth and the wrinkles between her eyebrows match the defensive question.

“Jungkook,” he replies, too caught off guard to know how else to answer but with the truth – even if Taehyung won’t even know who Jungkook is if his coworker mentions it to him later.

After appraising Jungkook and likely deciding he doesn’t look like a threat, the snow leopard replies with a simple,

“No.”

“Cool, cool. Um, thanks!”

Jungkook lifts the drinks and paper bag of mini donuts he’d bought with gratitude before ducking out of the cafe through the front doors. So much for fixing his bad first impression. Or was it his second? Third? At this point, Jungkook can’t keep track of all the failed opportunities to introduce himself to Taehyung as a normal person would.

Jungkook treks back to the library, balancing the drinks and snacks rather precariously through doors pushed by his hips and kicked open by his sneakers. He and Yoongi have reserved a study room similar to the one Jungkook often books with Suyun. Private study rooms are handy when he and Yoongi don’t feel like dealing with predators misusing the library space and treating it like a social hour.

Yoongi is curled up in the corner of the study room. He decided to forgo the table and sat on a beanbag he dragged from another room in the library. Jungkook thinks it’s typical cat behavior, though he doesn’t dare comment on it. Yoongi might not have claws, but his eyes shoot daggers.

“You went to the damn cafe, Jeon Jungkook.” Yoongi’s tail swats at the ground before flicking back up in the air.

“I brought back snacks!” Jungkook hip-bumps the door to close it and plops on the floor with Yoongi, holding out the iced Americano he knows his friend will like. “A drink for you, a drink for me, and donuts to share. I’m an amazing roommate.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Yoongi complains around a mouthful of donuts.

“You love me.”

“Sometimes, Jungkook, I think you are a bit naive.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and gets up onto his knees to reach his laptop on the table. Careful not to knock anything over, he settles on the floor with his laptop on his thighs and his back leaning against the wall.

“Optimism and friendliness are different than naivety. You wouldn’t know because you’re a grumpy old man,” Jungkook points out as he pulls his hat off. When he finally unties his ears, he massages the base of each as they flop back into place, sore from being pulled backward at such an unnatural angle.

Yoongi closes the book he’s reading and smacks Jungkook in the shoulder with it.

“Take that back.”

“No!”

“Hmph,” Yoongi grunts, sounding just as grumpy as Jungkook knows that he is.

The two hybrids are silent for a while, both focused on their studies. Jungkook is working on designing a mobile app for one of his classes— it’s a video game similar to the Pokemon games he would play on his GameBoy when he was younger. From the looks of it, Yoongi is reading a novel, though Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s for fun or for class. That’s always how it is with the creative types, he supposes.

“Well,” Yoongi says slowly after clearing his throat. It comes out stunted, a little awkward. “Did you see your tiger?”

Cheeks heating up, Jungkook slumps against the wall and shrugs his shoulders to his ears.

“I didn’t…”

“But?” Yoongi gives Jungkook a sidelong look.

“But… he’s kind of in one of my classes now, so I’ll see him on Tuesday…”

Bewildered, Yoongi sets his book down and turns to look at Jungkook. His tail smacks Jungkook’s leg and wraps around his ankle, though Jungkook doesn’t think Yoongi even realizes it due to how excitable he’s getting. Jungkook still doesn’t know why this is such a big deal.

“How is he in one of your classes?”

“Hyung, I’m trying to do my assignment.”

“How, Jungkook?”

With a sigh, Jungkook puts his laptop on the floor and shakes his leg free of Yoongi’s tail.

“I don’t know. He just showed up last week. My friend said sometimes predators get to take classes with prey if they want to overload their courses to graduate faster.”

Suyun is probably correct; she’s one of the most intelligent people Jungkook knows. Jungkook doesn’t mention that she was the one who told him, though. He doesn’t want Yoongi coming up with any ideas about Jungkook being friends with one of the only prey students dating a predator on their campus.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi gives him an exasperated look, “I’ve heard bad things about that specific group of predators that Taehyung hangs out with.”

The confession doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. It feels like Yoongi is overreacting, and it reminds him of his parents. So many prey hybrids let fear and paranoia dictate how they live and who they spend time with. Jungkook doesn’t want to be like that, not anymore.

“And where did you get this information?” he challenges with his arms crossed.

Yoongi waves his hand, gesturing all around them.

“Everyone knows this. It’s common knowledge. They’re shady, okay? Starting fights at parties, drugs, sleeping around, stuff like that.”

Jungkook has lived a sheltered life, but everything Yoongi lists sounds like typical college behavior — at least, what Jungkook has heard about predator college students. Maybe he is naive.

“I promise I won’t do any of that stuff, hyung,” Jungkook says with a tug of Yoongi’s ear. “I’m a good kid.”

Yoongi scowls and smacks at Jungkook’s hand.

“A nuisance is more like it. Now do your assignment.”

On Tuesday, Jungkook arrives at his class on time, not out of breath and not sweating through his clothes. He crosses through the double doors at the back of the lecture hall and eyes the tiered seating as other students shuffle down the aisles. There are plenty of seats available since class hasn’t started yet. Near the front of the room, Jungkook spots Suyun talking with another student. Jungkook would immediately head for the fold-down seat beside Suyun any other day. He’d pull out the adjustable desk attached to the seat and prep his notebook for the day’s lesson, maybe even get out his phone to record the audio in case he got distracted. Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to go to his usual seat any other day.

But today, Taehyung is on time.

The tiger hybrid sits in the back like he did the week prior. Again, Jungkook thinks Taehyung looks too big for the seat, his long legs and broad shoulders sticking out compared to the smaller frames of his prey classmates. His striped tail drapes over the armrest of the seat next to him, and his ears flick as Jungkook approaches him.

“Can I sit here?” Jungkook asks, the words nearly sticking in his throat.

Setting down the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers, Taehyung turns his head to look Jungkook up and down. The slow drag of his gaze makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. Taehyung’s sharp, feline eyes trigger Jungkook’s fight-or-flight response. It takes tensing his muscles for Jungkook not to bolt down the aisle and sit with Suyun instead.

Part of Jungkook knows that this is an instinctual response to being near a predator. He wonders if Suyun still feels this way about Jackson or if she has gotten used to him enough that her body doesn’t react like this anymore.

An even tinier part of Jungkook thinks that, maybe, he kind of… likes it…

The adrenaline is exciting, and the dangerous energy Taehyung gives off makes Jungkook feel wanted – in a way he never has before.

Jungkook may be a bit naive, but he’s not stupid. He notices that Taehyung’s eyes linger on the smooth expanse of skin his shorts reveal. Jungkook silently thanks his morning self for picking a cute outfit for the day. He feels much better in cute jean shorts, a striped rugby shirt, and his artfully dirty white Converse than the usual athleisure he wears when he’s feeling lazy. Still, Taehyung’s predatory gaze makes Jungkook’s cheeks heat up, yet he refuses to look away when Taehyung’s feline eyes meet his again.

“Of course, bun,” Taehyung finally responds with a low purr that vibrates from his chest.

“Um, thanks!” A bit flustered by the unexpected use of the nickname in the middle of class, Jungkook quickly sits down beside Taehyung.

Jungkook tries retrieving his notebook from his backpack, dropping it on the floor twice before finally getting his desk in order. He can feel Taehyung’s gaze while getting his phone out to prepare the audio recording. A text message from Suyun is the first thing that pops up on his phone screen, and he sincerely hopes Taehyung doesn’t see it because it’s a complaint from Suyun about Jungkook ditching her for a predator.

Digging around in his backpack, Jungkook’s fingers scrape the bottom and find his back empty aside from his tablet and a binder. He’d been so worried about getting to class on time that he forgot his little sparkly gold zipper bag that carries his pencils and pens. This is what he gets for being old school and enjoying a break from electronics in his courses that aren’t for his major.

With a sigh, Jungkook leans back in his seat and weighs the pros and cons of asking Taehyung for something to write with or just using his laptop to take notes like most other students. He doesn’t have to worry about it for long before Taehyung decides for him.

“Need one of these, bun?” Taehyung whispers close to Jungkook’s ear, his breath tickling his neck from Taehyung leaning in.

With a shiver, Jungkook gently takes the pen Taehyung offers. It’s lightweight but smooth and inky, satisfyingly gliding across the page of Jungkook’s notebook.

“This is a nice pen,” Jungkook whispers back and feels silly for complimenting Taehyung’s pen.

Taehyung winks at Jungkook with a low chuckle before returning his focus to their professor.

Jungkook tries not to show how flustered he is, but he’s sure his scent sweetens with how embarrassed and nervous Taehyung makes him.

Unfortunately, class passes the same as it had last time– with Jungkook daydreaming about Taehyung and all the questions he has for him, and Taehyung being such a diligent student that Jungkook never catches him looking his way. Whatever Suyun said about Taehyung watching him must have been a figment of her imagination because Jungkook is positive he would notice if it was true.

Jungkook notices everything.

Taehyung’s fuzzy ears flick every time Jungkook shifts in his seat. He switches hands to write halfway through the lecture, perhaps because one of them got tired. His scent spikes closer to the end of class, that soothing smell of summer rain that makes Jungkook tingly all over.

It should be embarrassing how much time Jungkook spends thinking about the predator beside him and not what his professor is teaching, but it’s not his fault Taehyung is so alluring.

“And as a reminder,” Professor Jung raises his voice in anticipation of the noisy buzz that comes with the end of class as students pack up, “We’ll be choosing final project topics soon, so please don’t let that fall by the wayside.”

Jungkook has definitely let his project ideas fall by the wayside. It’s fine; he performs well under pressure.

Catching Suyun’s eye across the room, Jungkook sends a silent prayer that she doesn’t come charging up to him with Taehyung still in his seat. He tries subtly shaking his head at her, but he’s not sure his point gets across.

“Thanks, by the way.” Jungkook holds out the pen, but Taehyung doesn’t even look at it.

“Keep it.”

“But,” Jungkook watches Taehyung pack up his backpack, “It’s yours.”

“And now it’s yours.”

“But I don’t need it.”

Wearing a lazy grin, Taehyung grips the edge of Jungkook’s desk and leans in slightly, even as Jungkook subconsciously leans back.

“Y’know,” Taehyung begins with a lick of his bottom lip. When the grin returns, Taehyung reveals sharp canines that extend slightly further than the rest of his teeth. “I heard you missed me over the weekend, Jungkook.”

Before Jungkook’s cheeks even flush a deep pink, Taehyung is already pushing himself up to stand at full height. He gives Jungkook one last look and slips past him down the row of seats, never leaving Jungkook’s sight until he’s through the classroom’s double doors.

“What the hell was that?” Suyun is on Jungkook with a quickness, her large, rounded ears sticking up out of her straight hair.

Jungkook exhales slowly. “I… don’t know?”

Gathering his notebook and Taehyung’s pen, Jungkook almost misses the slip of paper folded in half and teetering on the edge of his desk. It’s intentionally folded and perfectly aligned at the edges, and the paper looks different than that of Jungkook’s notebook.

He doesn’t mean to be secretive, but Jungkook twists in his seat to hide the note when he opens it. Suyun is trustworthy; there’s no questioning that. Still, Jungkook wants to have the chance to process whatever this note is before he shares it with anyone else.

It’s a good call, considering what’s scrawled on the inside in small, messy lines.

vante95 2 pm Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays 10 am Saturdays

Jungkook refolds the paper and shoves it in his pocket. His entire face burns like a summer wildfire. He can barely stand up without tripping over himself, and he slings his backpack over his shoulder with shaking hands.

Taehyung gave him his KakaoTalk and work schedule.

Taehyung essentially invited Jungkook to text him and visit him at work.

Jungkook thinks he might be sick from how nervous he suddenly feels.

“Earth to Jungkookie,” Suyun shoves Jungkook in the arm as they go about their typical routine of walking to the library after class to study. “What is going on with you and that tiger, huh? You’ve been acting so weird the last week.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Jungkook contemplates how to answer Suyun’s questions. He opts for the truth, spilling his little no-so-secret infatuation with the predator in hushed whispers as they cross the main quad in front of the library.

“Do you think I should text him?” Jungkook holds the wrinkled note out for Suyun to read. A curious smile brightens her face, exposing her cute buck teeth.

“Oh my gosh, yes. He’s so cute, Jungkook! Don’t believe all that silly stuff about predators being bad. They’re not all so terrible,” Suyun urges.

If anyone knows what it’s like to trust a predator, it would be Suyun. Her encouragement is all the permission Jungkook needs to open the app on his phone and type in Taehyung’s KakaoTalk ID.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he expects an immediate response; he already knows Taehyung has work right now. Still, he feels disappointment sink like a rock in his gut after five minutes pass and his message is still unread. Should he have waited to text him? Does it seem desperate to send him a message so quickly after receiving his contact info?

Trying to pull himself together, he gets settled in a study room with Suyun and puts his phone on Do Not Disturb. He may be determined to get to know the mysterious tiger hybrid, but school will always come first.

Suyun stands at the whiteboard, which takes up an entire wall. She works diligently to draw diagrams of something chemistry-related that Jungkook doesn’t understand– many lines connecting hexagons and acronyms he doesn’t recognize. Jungkook may be studying science, but not that kind of science.

“So,” Suyun asks as she writes mathematical equations in pink marker that look more confusing than the hieroglyphs they were just studying, “Do you like going here better than your other school?”

“I do, but I think it’s a lot harder here. I feel like all I do is study.”

Suyun laughs and smiles over her shoulder at Jungkook.

“I totally get that. We need to do something fun, maybe go clubbing. I could see if Jackson’s friends are throwing any house parties. I feel like there’s usually a few of them right before finals, as like, a morale boost.”

“I’ve never actually been to a party…” Jungkook admits quietly, though rather than embarrassment, he feels giddiness at the prospect of experiencing another new college experience he was previously denied.

Suyun whips around and accidentally flings her marker across the room. Giggling, Jungkook gets up to search for the marker.

“Oh my gosh, Jeon Jungkook, we are going to a party. What else haven’t you done? I need to pop your cherry.”

“What!” Jungkook nearly shrieks. The shock of her statement makes Jungkook mess up his throw, and he ends up nearly chucking the marker in Suyun’s face.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m not, like, trying to take your virginity. Is that what you thought?”

Jungkook hides behind his laptop once he returns to his seat. He’s not ready to admit that, yes, he is a virgin. Admitting that usually gets him weird stares and inappropriate comments. One time, an old friend of Jungkook’s said he “screamed virgin”– whatever that means!

“Maybe we can start with a house party and go from there…” Jungkook offers with a suspicious look thrown at Suyun’s back. Maybe dating a predator has had an impact on the mouse hybrid, who otherwise should be naturally timid and prudish.

“Sure, sure. I’ll text Jackson right now. We’ll have all week to figure everything out.”

When Suyun reaches for her phone, Jungkook impulsively checks his as well. His heart leaps into his throat, and his palms sweat when he checks the notifications he’d silenced during their study session.

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