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lanasblood · 1 year

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HOW DO I MAKE YOU LOVE ME | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!omatikaya!reader (no mentions of y/n)

summary: you remember all of your attempts to make Neteyam fall in love with you, using various methods, experiencing numerous failures, and you finally come to a conclusion or the five times you failed to win neteyam’s affection and the one time you succeed.

word count: 10k (!!! damn)

warnings: actually none but let’s say hurt/comfort, reader is a simp, 5+1 prompt, confessing, mutual pining, mention of blood, requited/unrequited love, !!adult neteyam!!, flashbacks to childhood and teenager years

note: inspired by the five love languages and the weeknd’s song mentioned in the title.

* gif‘s not mine.

The soft rustling of the teal leaves falling silently to the ground, as light as an ikran feather, is one of the most soothing sounds heard on the still night. The wind touches them gently, as if caressing them, before whirling them up again in a powerful gust, starting the cycle all over again. The moons stand high in the sky, and the stars sparkle like little gems that can beautify anything. The night is quiet, and the soft breeze seems to calm everything down and lull it into a deep sleep. The bright light of the bioluminescent plants lays gently on the moist meadows, illuminating the darkness. It is like a magical tale, perfect and without blemish. Yet, there is one who can't sleep in this harmonic time: you. With your arms and legs stretched out, you lie on your back, feeling like hours have passed since you started staring at the night sky without moving a muscle. You have even decided to sleep outside your hammock to hear and feel the sound of the wind, hoping to finally sink into the dreamland. But, as you know, this has done little to help.

All because of him. You sigh in annoyance.

For as long as you can remember you've had this crush on the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, you don't know when you developed it, let alone how it really started. You just know that it might have been cute at first – a nice girl from a small clan who has feelings for the older boy next door, but as time went by, it wasn't cute at all; on the contrary, it robs you of precious sleep and will most likely cause you to age prematurely.

Despite not knowing how and when exactly this crush thing has started, you know that it has gotten worse the more time has passed, and the more time passes, the more failed attempts to get his attention you have behind you. However, there's one event you categorize as time zero - the starting point of your attempts - that you remember vividly:

You were a mere child and couldn't take your eyes off Neteyam, who was only slightly older than you. Confidently clutching the stem of the rare flower you had been searching for days, you made your way through the lush forest, searching for Neteyam. As you thought about the plan you had concocted, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You had heard from a reliable source that Neteyam was a lover of rare flora, and you hoped that this gift would make him see you in a different light.

When you spotted him in the distance, his tall figure was moving gracefully through the trees. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, holding out the flower to him.

"Hey, Neteyam," you said, trying to sound casual. "I found this and I thought you might like it."

Neteyam stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. You held out the flower a bit higher, hoping to see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the flower from your outstretched hand. Looking at the flower now in his hand, the corner of his lips turned upward, causing your heart to flutter.

You told him happily, "It's a very rare flower," beaming a bright smile at him.

And the next thing you knew, you were holding your breath as he bent slightly forward to your height and patted your head in praise, "It seems you're already a careful gatherer, baby neighbor. Keep it up!"

You felt your heart sink faster than a prey could run when he turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there alone in the forest. You had hoped that your gesture would be enough to make him see you in a different light, but it seemed that it had made no difference at all, or even worse for he had called you the worst possible nickname to exist in all na'vihood.

As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration settling in you, the deep frown on your face mirroring your inner world. You had tried so hard to get Neteyam to notice you, but it seemed that he was simply not interested.

How do I make you love me?

After a few cycles and many more failed attempts in between, you realized that your little crush was not so little after all. Especially after Neteyam passed his Iknimaya at such a young age, your admiration for him grew every day. The feeling was almost unbearable as you found yourself constantly near him but not receiving the acknowledgment you wished for.

That was until one day, you decided to change that because your hormonal teenager brain had this glorious idea to spend some alone time with Neteyam. You had observed that he enjoyed hunting during his free time when he wasn't bound by his duties as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn. This is why you eagerly joined him on his next hunt, determined to impress him with your own hunting and tracking skills. Looking back, you now realize that your confidence may have been misplaced for your skills were basically non-existent at that time, but back then you were convinced that you were able to hunt.

So, you followed Neteyam deep into the forest, crouching right beside him in the underbrush, watching the herd of talioang grazing in the distance. Their blue and orange skin glinted in the sunlight, and you could hear the low rumble of their voices as they communicated with each other.

"Do you thi—" Neteyam's hand swiftly covered your mouth, halting your words before they escaped, his touch gentle yet firm. It was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He motioned for you to be quiet and directed your attention towards the herd. As he removed his hand, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement in your blood. This was your chance to prove yourself.

Neteyam slowly and silently made his way towards the herd, you right on his track, moving from one piece of cover to another. Your eyes followed every movement of the muscles on his toned back, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your palms were slick with sweat. Even though you had never really hunted before, you were determined to succeed but Neteyam's captivating presence proved to be a distraction that made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else.

As you got closer to the herd, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Neteyam signaled for you to stop, and you froze, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He reached out and brushed a twig aside at your feet.

"Watch your steps," he whispered close to your ear, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced as you realized how close he was to you, and you wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Longing to feel his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but turn your head slightly towards him, but you knew you couldn't let your desire distract you from the hunt.

"I do," you whispered back. Trying to calm your racing heart, you focused on the task at hand, scanning the ground for anything else that might make noise. But when you moved, you felt Neteyam's body shift slightly against yours, sending another jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too.

"No, you constantly step on something," he told you, still whispering, but voice stern.

Feeling caught because there was a high possibility that he was right for you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings in the last couple of minutes, too busy doting on him, you couldn't find arguments to defend yourself, "I do not."

Neteyam firmly pressed his finger on his own lips, signaling you to be quiet yet again. Your heart beat faster as you met his intense gaze, and you felt a rush of desire wash over you.

"Too much noise," he mouthed, his voice barely audible, and looked back at the herd. Following his gaze, you saw that the talioang had picked up on something, and they were starting to look nervous. You and Neteyam held your breaths, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, Neteyam gave the signal, and sprang into action. You just weren't really ready when he gave the signal, so with the first step you took, you stumbled on something growing on the ground and fell over with a short cry. Neteyam who had darted towards the nearest talioang, already drawing his bow and arrow, stopped right in his track when he heard you fall. You looked up at him when he quickly turned to you and then back at the herd but it was too late, the animals already reared up in surprise, and scattered in all directions. However, you were too shocked by your fatal mistake to pay them any attention. You were frozen in place, lying in the dirt, watching Neteyam looking back at you with a slightly agape mouth. The blood rushed to your head and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You ruined it.

Neteyam's disappointment was tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he was angry. You would be, too. Struggling to express your remorse, the words got caught in your throat as you attempted to apologize. The weight of disappointment were heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of letting him down.

After a long, awkward silence, Neteyam turned to you with a deep sigh. "You need to be more careful," he said, "When you're hunting, you have to be aware of everything around you. One mistake can ruin the whole hunt."

You nodded, feeling ashamed, you were sure your face was as purple as a yovo fruit. You had wanted to impress Neteyam, but instead you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, had blown any chance to show him that you were capable.

How do I make you fall for me?

Over time, you learned from your previous mistakes. Wanting to impress him proved to be harder than anticipated, but having a conversation with him was easier than expected. You needed to show him how much you appreciated him for who he was. As a result, you began to pay closer attention to the way he interacted with others, especially his younger brother Lo'ak, and you started to incorporate some of those phrases into your conversations with him.

One bright day, you nervously approached Neteyam, hoping to strike up a conversation with him using your newfound knowledge:

"Hey, Neteyam," you greeted tentatively, "Whatcha doin'?"

You left out the bro on purpose, fearing it would be overkill. Even so, the words coming out of your mouth sounded strange to you, and for him apparently too, as he rapidly looked up from his task upon hearing your voice, and his otherwise neutral face looked at you with a slightly frowned forehead and attentive eyes, studying you for a moment before he was quick to collect himself and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Not much. Tuk asked me to repair this old basket for her," he said, motioning with his hands on the basket between his legs, "And I'm trying."

You nodded, trying not to seem too eager, "That's really kind of you. I bet she'll be thrilled once you finish it," you said with a smile.

Neteyam simply hummed in response and went back to his task, his concentration returning.

"I mean, I would, too. Tuk is very lucky, it must be nice to have a brother like you," you complimented him.

"But you do have a brother," Neteyam reminded you matter-of-factly, "We used to attend the same training sessions so many times."

"Yeah," you continued, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "But, uh, he is not as skilled as you are." Good save. "And he never did such kind things for me when I was little. The only thing he did was teach me how to fight."

"That's a valuable skill," Neteyam commented.

"Well, what I mean is, he's an ordinary brother, while you are one of a kind, Neteyam. Your siblings are incredibly lucky to have you," you said, emphasizing your point.

Neteyam smiled to himself, his canines slightly showing, as he went back to working on the basket. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of him noticing your flattery.

"I appreciate that," he said, acknowledging your compliment.

After a few minutes of silence, you took a deep breath and you mustered up the courage to ask him a question, "May I say something?"

He looked up at you again and nodded. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You decided to take the chance, "I just wanted to say that you always seem to know just what to do and say, and that's very impressive. You're responsible, always respectful, and very patient. Not just with me but with everyone in our clan. And I want you to know that I really appreciate it, Neteyam." I appreciate you.

Neteyam's expression softened as he listened to your words. "You have a kind heart to express that," he replied, a hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

You took a deep breath and continued, "I know you don't share much about your personal life, but if you ever feel comfortable talking about it I would love to learn more about you."

Neteyam's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."

You felt a warm glow of happiness in your chest as you realized that your words affected him. You were willing to put in the work to get to know him better.

Encouraged by his response, you asked, "So, do you have any concrete plans after your Uniltaron?"

Neteyam's expression faltered a bit upon hearing you mention his upcoming Dream Hunt, he seemed almost reserved all of a sudden. "I do have a few, but they are personal," he replied, "I prefer to keep them to myself."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "Oh, I understand," you said, trying to hide your dejection, "I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, "But some things are best kept within the family."

"Yeah, I get it," you smiled weakly, feeling like you had hit a wall, "Thanks for talking with me, Neteyam."

He nodded and went back to his task, leaving you feeling deflated and uncertain about how to get closer to him.

How do I make you want me?

The previous attempts to win Neteyam's attention had proven unsuccessful: The gifts you gave him didn't have the desired effect, your attempts to impress him by spending time with him backfired (you want to forget that memory of the hunt so badly), and the conversations you had with him remained superficial, never delving deeper into meaningful topics. It was clear that you needed a new approach, a fresh idea to capture his interest which brought you back to point zero.

You walked through the forest, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of the flowers you had been studying for quite some time – the kind you gifted Neteyam when you were little. It turns out that the rare flower wasn't that rare after all, it only bloomed a short time a cycle, which is what made it so valuable. However, if they were dried and powdered, very useful medicines could be made. At some point you had started collecting this flower, as well as other herbs and plants for Tsahìk, and in return she had taught you how to make rich creams and pastes from them. And you could also consume this flower in meals if you let it cook over the fire for a long time. Pondering if it would evoke nostalgia within Neteyam, while you plucked them carefully from the ground, you wondered if he ever remembered the day you gave him that flower in the first place.

Gathering a variety of edible flowers, aromatic herbs, and other nourishing ingredients from the village, you spent all morning helping the women in your clan prepare a wholesome and delicious meal for the warriors. In anticipation of Neteyam's training session, you decided to take this thoughtful approach to show your support and care.

As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, you volunteered to bring the full basket of handmade food wraps and lovely cut fruits to the training area.

The warriors were engrossed in their practice, their movements fluid and powerful. You scanned the crowd, searching for Neteyam among them.

Spotting him in the midst of the intense training session, his lean muscles glistening with sweat under the warm sun, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. His movements were powerful and precise, each strike displaying his skill as a warrior. His strength and determination did something to you, feeling a magnetic pull towards him.

Balancing the basket of food in your hands, you approached the outskirts of the training area, careful not to interrupt the warriors' focus. You set up a blanket and arranged the food on it attractively. Your intention was not only to impress Neteyam but to show your support for the entire group.

"I swear, Eywa send you here," you heard someone say next to you, a bit out of breath, while impatient hands reached into the basket and helped you place the food, "I'm starving!"

"Lo'ak, are you allowed to end your training like this?" You questioned, and turned your head in the direction of the warriors — the training was obviously still in full swing, but it was precisely then that you met Neteyam's gaze who was already looking over at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Not really but it smells so good, I'm ready to be skinned for these delici— Oh, I'm taking this one, yeah?" He started unwrapping one of the food wraps and hastily bit into it.

"Hey, wait for the others!" you admonished him, but his wrap was already half eaten.

"Mm, das bom!" you heard him smack loudly, "S'rusly, yur da best."

"I'm glad," you responded, suppressing a laugh. Lo'ak acted like he hadn't eaten in days.

Noticing the spread of food, the warriors collectively ended the training session, and the men started approaching the nourishing dishes, including freshly grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, and flavorful herbs.

Sensing an opportunity, you went towards Neteyam, a food wrap in your hand, and a warm smile gracing your lips. "I thought I would spare you the long way, in case you're starving like your brother," you joked, gesturing with your head towards Lo'ak behind you, who was taking two more food wraps and calling dips on the rawp.

Neteyam's gaze shifted from the feast you had prepared to the food in his hands and then at you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"That's thoughtful of you," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "It's been an intense training session, and this is a welcome surprise."

You stepped back, allowing him to enjoy the meal with his fellow warriors. Observing from a distance, you noticed the camaraderie and laughter that emerged as they gathered around the spread of food, indulging in the flavors that were carefully crafted.

Throughout the meal, you found yourself drawn to Neteyam's presence. The way he spoke with passion about his experiences, the way he listened attentively to others, and the way his eyes sparkled with a hidden depth — all of it only fueled your growing attraction.

As the training session continued, you lingered nearby, engaging in conversations with other warriors, offering encouragement and companionship. While your initial intention was to impress Neteyam, you found joy in connecting with the community as a whole, so much you almost didn't realize that the day's training had come to an end.

"Thank you for the meal and your company," Neteyam said softly as he walked next to you back to the village, carrying the basket for you with a genuine smile gracing his face. "It meant a lot to all of us."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, "I didn't do much, the others—"

"You are here, that alone is more than enough."

You nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. "I'm glad I could contribute," your voice was filled with sincerity, "Supporting you and the clan is important to me."

A surge of hope welled up inside you, but as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Despite your efforts, the romantic tension you had hoped for seemed to elude you. The conversation remained pleasant yet distant, and it became clear that Neteyam saw you more as a friend than a potential partner. With a heavy heart, you realized that your attempt to catch his interest had once again fallen short.

And make it last eternally?

For quite some time now, you have firmly believed that you have left those days behind you, imprisoned in childhood memories, overlapped by numerous teenage embarrassments. After all, now you are an adult with serious duties and commitments to attend to, and there's neither time nor room for such childish infatuations. Crushing on the future Olo'eyktan. Please. Plus, once you found out how many other girls in your clan, both older and younger than you, adored him, you figured it is best to move on. You were frustrated at times, but you resolved to carry on, cherishing the friendship you shared with Neteyam while silently letting go of your unrequited feelings. At least, that's what you thought...

… until three eclipses ago.

Mere moments before the eclipse, the all-too-familiar soft light danced in the room, casting a golden hue that revealed the tiniest pollen floating around inside Tsahìk's crowded tent. It had been a long time since so many people had been injured at once, yet no one was ready to explain or report what had happened.

As two new figures entered the tent, one of them supporting the other, you heard a familiar voice speaking calmly, "Focus on not getting blood all over grandmother's tent rather than worrying about my wounds."

"Nah, I'm just- Ouch! Careful, bro!"

"Sorry, brother, but you have to cooperate with me here," Neteyam uttered while carefully helping Lo'ak onto the mat made of woven grasses that Kiri had prepared for them with blankets.

"I'm just saying—Ahh," Lo'ak hissed as Neteyam applied pressure to his open wound with his bare hands, while Kiri hastily tied together any available cloths for his wound care. "-it's not very mighty of you, you know."

"What is not very mighty of him?" Kiri wanted to know, now taking over and applying pressure to his wound as well to stop the bleeding. As you shifted to Kiri's side, you handed her more cloths that she could wrap around Lo'ak's leg.

"His wounds, of course," Lo'ak grinned when he saw you and gave his older brother another amused sideways glance, before continuing, "but I'm sure he will be in great hands now. Right, bro?"

Just a quick glance at Lo'ak was enough to see that he was far worse off than Neteyam. While his wounds did not appear to be life-threatening, he was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

Tsahìk had already rushed to the four of you, throwing a disapproving look at Lo'ak, "Oh, my boy, let me have a look." With her expertise, she quickly got the situation under control, ordering Kiri to get more cloths while you stood by her side to assist her.

"My child, attend to his wounds," Tsahìk instructed you, but to your surprise she nodded towards Neteyam instead of Lo'ak as she pushed a bowl of fresh water into your hands. "My granddaughter and I can handle this young clumsy man here." Her stern gaze was once again fixed on Lo'ak, who, in turn, only grinned at her.

"Grandmother," Neteyam began soothingly, ready to protest, "there is no need to—" but her piercing eyes silenced him, causing him to follow you wordlessly to the other side of the tent.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in front of Neteyam, tending to his wounds with the gentle touch of your hands, caring for each cut and bruise.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as you wrung the cloth in the water that had already turned a muddy reddish color.

"I'm content with the present circumstances," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. You gave him a sarcastic look, which he reciprocated with a warm smile.

"Well, I suppose then you'll be content with this as well." Pressing the damp cloth into his hand, you stood up and leisurely made your way to Tsahìk's supplies to fetch some healing ointments, and you took your time doing so.

Upon your return, Neteyam watched you attentively, his eyes tracing your every movement, and you wondered if he had been watching you the whole time. There was a newfound curiosity in his gaze, a glimmer of something more.

"My words came out wrong," he said when you sat back on the ground in front of him. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions, a subtle tension hanging between you. "You're right, I should be more careful. I always strive to be. It's just that there's little one can do in the face of an ambush."

"An ambush?" you asked with big eyes, "Oh, Great Mother! That's what everyone's been trying to conceal. And I was wondering the whole time what could've possibly happened to cause so many injuries."

"They probably didn't want to cause an uproar." You listened to his words, sensing the weight they carried. The mention of an ambush brought back memories of past dangers and harrowing encounters. The gravity of their lives was never far from their thoughts, and you understood the weight that rested on Neteyam's shoulders.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Neteyam," you said softly, voice carrying reassurance, when you continued cleaning the cut on his chest, noticing that he tried not to wince under your touch, "It's alright to lean on others, to let them care for you."

A flicker of emotion danced across his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he regained his composure. His hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest above his heart, the contact gentle yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment it felt like the boundaries between healer and wounded blurred, "Thank you for being here, for tending to me." His eyes locked with yours, an unspoken promise passing between you, turning your cheeks in a light purply color.

"Now," you cleared your throat with the intention of changing the subject, fervently hoping that he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, "here comes the actual healing part."

Gently, you dipped your fingers into the jar of ointment, scooping out a generous amount. With deliberate movements, you applied the soothing balm to his wounds, careful not to cause any further discomfort. The ointment glided smoothly, creating a soothing sensation that seemed to envelop him in a healing embrace.

"What I meant before is that I am glad that you are the one taking care of me," you smiled upon hearing those words, feeling his gaze on you as you concentrated on his upper body. A gentle warmth radiated from his wounds as your fingertips grazed his skin, mingling with the tender touch of your hands. The ointment possessed a subtle fragrance, hinting at the natural remedies it held within.

As you continued to apply the ointment, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, exploring the intricate landscape of his injuries, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythm of your ministrations became a quiet conversation, a wordless understanding of care and compassion. With every gentle caress, a subtle shiver passed through him, a reaction that spoke of both vulnerability and an underlying trust in your touch. There was a closeness in this shared moment, a connection forged through the tender act of healing.

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes revealing a depth of gratitude and something more profound. It was as if the vulnerability of his wounds had peeled away a layer, exposing a vulnerability of the heart. The strength he embodied as a warrior was softened in this vulnerable space, allowing a snippet into the depths of his mind and soul.

"It never stings when you patch me up, why?" Neteyam asked, his voice laced with wonder, tilting his head slightly.

"The secret is to mix yalnabark with 'omsyul," you replied, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Care to share this secret with my grandmother? And Kiri, too?" Neteyam's request was teasing but also genuine, and you couldn't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Actually, Kiri is the one who taught me this," you admitted, a fondness in your voice.

Neteyam's forehead furrowed slightly, "Then why does it always burn when she patches me up?"

With a twinkle in your eyes, you playfully suggested, "Sibling love?"

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Or perhaps your touch is blessed by Eywa?" His words hung in the air, filled with a newfound flirtation that took you by surprise.

"Oh, come on now, exaggerate much, do you?" you responded, attempting to brush off his words with a hint of irony, not fully realizing the impact they had on you.

Undeterred by your sarcastic retort, Neteyam looked deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "The caress of your hand weaves a tapestry of enchantment, casting a spell that captivates my very soul."

His words echoed in your mind, resonating with a blend of tender affection and longing. You wished he had said those words when you were younger and so in love with him, meaning every syllable coming from his kissable lips. What you would have given to hear him say it.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, the tension between you both palpable.

"You said I should exaggerate," Neteyam added, a witty glint in his eyes, as if to remind you of your earlier banter.

Your younger self would have etched his previous words into a tree to make them eternal — words you longed to hear from your crush, words that felt like a dream.

"Crush?" he asked with interest, and your eyes widened with the realization that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. "On whom?"

"Um," a jumble of thoughts flooded your mind at once, too late for an excuse, "You?"

Your confession left him momentarily speechless, and your heart pounded in your chest.

It's in the past, so it's okay to admit it, you told yourself, trying to calm down a bit.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Had," you corrected quickly.

"You had a crush on me?" he asked again, as if needing confirmation. It seemed to sweep him off his feet, a revelation he hadn't expected.

"Everyone did, everyone does," you confessed, trying to downplay the significance.

"Everyone except you?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer, "I guess I'm… over it."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Come on, Neteyam," you sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice, "don't act like you didn't know."

"I swear by Eywa this is news to me… I have never…" he hesitated briefly with his words, "It doesn't even make sense."

Make sense?

"Don't make me regret telling you," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "It's not about making sense, and it's not a big deal either, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but I try to understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"Why would you even crush on me in the first place?"

Oh.

"You're right," you tightly gripped the cloth, forcing a smile, "why would I."

Even though you reluctantly admitted it, it hurt you and scratched at your ego. You were now more than grateful to have never openly communicated your feelings. As an adult, you could handle it, but you know exactly that this reaction would have devastated your childhood self. You were not accustomed to this insensitivity from Neteyam, considering he always maintained a noble and respectable demeanor. This showed you even more how repulsive the idea of having you by his side was to him.

"Also, I'm sorry," you turned around in a swing, your voice filled with sadness, disappointment, and above all, anger—anger at him for acting like a skxawng and anger at yourself for being a skxawng by confiding in him, "that the thought of me being attracted to you disgusts you so much. It won't happen again, rest your mind."

He seemed lost for words, blinking once, twice, and opening his mouth only to close it again, processing your words. Part of you yearned for him to say something, to prove you wrong, but nothing came. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, altering between your eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. You prepared to turn away, ready to retreat from the turmoil of the moment. But just as you began to pivot, a sudden, gentle grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks. It was Neteyam, his touch both unexpected and tender.

In that instant, conflicting emotions surged within you, caught between the instinct to push him away and the captivating gaze that held your attention. Without uttering a single word, he drew you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace that left you completely defenseless, your body momentarily frozen in surprise against his bare skin.

Your initial response was to resist, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of confusion. Yet, as his arms enveloped you, a scent as enchanting as the forest's vibrant essence and the serenity of sacred woods wafted into your consciousness. It was a harmonious blend that stirred your senses, mingling the fragrant allure of nature with the grounding whispers of sandalwood.

Inhaling deeply, the captivating aroma cast a spell upon you, dissolving the remnants of anger and frustration that had once consumed your thoughts like a distant memory as he held you firmly in his strong arms, the warmth of his body seeping into your very core.

In this suspended moment, time appeared to lose its grip as the only audible sounds were the rhythm of your synchronized breaths and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

"I'm sorry too," you heard him whisper in your hair as he pulled away from you and left the tent, leaving you confused.

It was in that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the soft whispers of the forest outside the tent, that you realized the painful truth: nothing would be the same between you and Neteyam because

no matter what you did, you would never be able to make him love you.

And exactly this is the reason of your sleepless nights, which is why, in the middle of your melancholic nostalgia, you decided to take a little walk to the lake nearby to pass the time until daybreak which leads you to the lake. You currently sit on a mossy tree stump above the shimmering water allowing your feet to hang freely just above the glistening surface of the lake, instead of sleeping safe and sound like the rest of the village. The purples, greens, and yellows of the bioluminescent flora and fauna smile at you but you fail to smile back. Your heart heavy with a mix of emotions and your mind full of questions, you try not to think of more memories, each one feeling like a dagger, piercing your already fragile heart.

You try to understand, yet it's difficult for you.

After so many failed attempts and moments of acceptance in between, he still manages to confuse you with his mixed signals. The moment, when he hugged you, replays relentlessly in your thoughts as if burned in your mind, a vivid recollection that carries the weight of his proximity, the tempting linger of his scent, and the electric touch that ignited a fierce tension within you. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark, an irresistible dance between desire and restraint, etching itself into the deepest recesses of your longing soul.

You groan into your hands. You want to hate him. So much.

Three eclipses have come and gone since then, way too much time to think between that and the part where you made the decision to distance yourself from Neteyam. This time for real. You wake up earlier than everyone else, dedicating yourself to your work, skipping communal meals and shared gatherings entirely. You complete your tasks and retreat back to your home, like a ghost in the clan, yet living unscathed within your own space, seeking solace in the sanctuary of solitude.

Almost every hour, you find yourself battling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you long to see him, to be in his presence, and to feel that familiar connection. But on the other hand, you remember his last words and the way he looked at you when he learned about your past feelings. Distance will be best for the both of you. The ache in your heart hasn't subsided, but you know the step is necessary for your own well-being, it's a shield you've built to preserve what little strength remains within you.

Yesterday, your changed behavior was noticed by Tsahik, so she confronted you directly, but she neither questioned you nor expected any form of explanation. Her words still echo in your mind, partly because forgetting the moment will be difficult with the way she looked at you with her kind eyes, as if understanding the depths of your heartache.

"My child," she laid her hand gently on your shoulder, her voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "Sometimes the tides do not turn in the way we hope but that does not diminish the beauty of the love within your heart. Always remember that Eywa has woven the threads of affection and devotion. Thus, have trust that the stars will align one day, for love, in all its form, is a gift to cherish."

The words resonate deep within your soul, as you sit by the tranquil water, the soft glow of the plants casting an ethereal light around you, a gentle breeze rustles through the verdant foliage. In these moments of isolation, you reflect on the times you've spent with Neteyam, the moments that sparked the flame of attraction within you. You question whether those were genuine or merely figments of your imagination, the doubts swirling in your mind, clouding your judgment and feeding your insecurities.

The stars above seem to mirror the twinkle in your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled desire for you can't comprehend why your heart continues to long for him despite your mind trying to move on. Your thoughts are deep in contemplation when—

"Can we talk?" The voice startles you, and you flinch sharply, almost letting out a scream. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, the fright taking hold of you. Quickly, you turn around, only to see that out of everyone, Neteyam approaches you, his figure blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a crooked smile forms on his lips.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression, unsure of what to expect from this encounter. His presence catches you off guard, causing your heart to skip another beat. The sight of him stirs a mix of emotions within you—longing, uncertainty, fear, but also a flicker of hope.

"You didn't," you lie, your voice tinged with coldness.

He nods his head towards the space beside you, "May I?"

Neteyam's eyes hold a certain earnestness, a silent plea for understanding. You just shrug your shoulders, and he interprets it as a yes. He takes a seat beside you, his movements graceful and measured, his tail gently swaying in the air, your shoulders and thighs nearly touching.

The silence between you is tense, charged with unspoken words and residual feelings. You let your feet dangle above the water. As you wiggle your toes, you feel a gentle coolness from the air mingling with the refreshing touch of the water below.

He clears his voice, "I've noticed your absence these past few days."

"Oh?" Your ears perk up with curiosity, surprised that he has noticed, "I was busy."

"You were missing from the meal servings as well," he notes, his words carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," you reply, sounding detached.

You aren't sure if you have misheard, but it seems like Neteyam has whispered softly to himself, "Me neither," although it can also be your mind playing tricks on you.

"You see, I, uh..." he pauses, seemingly struggling to find the right words which is so unusual for him, "Can I speak openly with you?"

"Don't you always?" Your voice still laced with a hint of coldness.

"Indeed," you noticed from the corner of your eye a brief tension in his hands that gradually relaxes, "I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you to feel obligated to skip communal gatherings because of me."

You can't help but scoff at that, however, he remains undeterred by your reaction.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me — I will keep my distance if that is what you want, but, please, don't avoid the clan in an attempt to avoid me. Don't isolate yourself."

"Funny," you say bitterly, your gaze still on the water, "that you think you have that much power over me."

"That's not what I wanted to say, it's—"

"It's fine, Neteyam," you interrupt him, turning your head to him, your jaw clenched, "I get it. If the future Olo'eyktan says so, I'll comply. See you at the morning meal."

You attempt to get up, but he gently grasps your wrist, halting your movement.

"I can sense that something has changed between us, and it weighs heavily on my heart," his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"Things change," you respond as he loosens his grip, but you refrain from attempting to get up again, waiting for the conversation to end, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he shifts, causing your thighs to briefly brush against each other, "I've had time to reflect on our last conversation."

"Actually, let's not—" you try to interrupt him, but this time he doesn't let your words stop him.

"Let me say this one thing and after that you don't have to talk to me again."

You meet his gaze, which is filled with honesty and a touch of guilt. You nod and look at him, noticing how he rubs his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath.

"I was caught off guard," he admits, his voice softer now, "When we talked, I mean; and when I learned that you used to feel an affection for me — I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for the way I reacted and for the pain I may have caused you."

You remain silent for a few seconds remembering the unpleasant conversation from last time, before you speak, "We don't have to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" You notice the tension in his muscles. "You see," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't understand why you would crush on me."

"You made that very clear," you remark.

"I regret my poor choice of words, and for any offense it may have caused. I immediately noticed that my words had an impact on you, but I was too overwhelmed to correct myself in the moment," he admits, a hint of regret in his voice, "Please know that the idea of you being attracted to me never has and never will disgust me," his eyes lock with yours as his voice gets quieter when he adds, "It scares me."

Upon hearing that, your features soften slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing your face, and the question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, "Why?"

Now he's the one shrugging, "Everyone has their own doubts and fears."

You're not satisfied with that response, and you want him to open up to you for which you are willing to meet him halfway. So you begin an attempt to make him elaborate on his statement, "I'm scared of many things." you watch him intently as you speak, "Accidentally plucking poisonous plants instead of the usual herbs, falling down the hallelujah mountains, being eaten alive by nantangs." And most of all, rejection. "I can't help but wonder what fears could reside within a mighty warrior like yourself."

His mouth twitches slightly upwards when you say that, but is quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "The possibility of someone seeing through my façade," Neteyam admits sighing, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and self-reflection, "Of someone truly knowing me," he holds your gaze, a certain vulnerability in them, "That terrifies me."

You are left speechless, completely caught off guard by his answer.

"But," you stammer, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, "you're Neteyam, you're... perfect in everything you do. I never considered the possibility that you might have these thoughts."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, definitely not, I am far off from being perfect. That's why I couldn't understand why you would have feelings for me," he confesses, vulnerability shining in his gaze. "Because I never saw myself the way you did. But maybe, just maybe, this is why I've been blind to the possibility of something more between us."

"If you're only here to make me feel better about myself..." you start, your voice trailing off.

"No," he groans in frustration. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

He chuckles at your reaction, "I get nervous when you look at me that way."

"What do you mean?" You are the one getting nervous because of his statement for he doesn't look nervous at all, on the contrary, he looks very relaxed and almost overconfident.

"Yeah, can't you tell my hands are all sweaty?" he lets you know with a smirk while he studies your face.

"Neteyam," you blink in confusion, "Are you okay?"

"You're not listening," he sighs, his smile dropping slightly.

"Then talk openly," you urge impatiently.

He takes a deep breath and looks you directly in the eyes. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just a friend."

Your features falter and your eyes widen, as the realization dawns upon you that your feelings have not been unrequited after all. "No."

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispers euphorically, confirming your thoughts.

"No, Neteyam, not now," you shake your head quickly, your mind filled with way too many thoughts and too much confusion. Instantly, you stand up as if stung by an insect, trying to maintain your composure.

"It didn't start now, it was always there," he admits, standing up as well, now towering over you and studying your face and your reaction again. "But I fear that I've missed my chance. And now, it seems like it's too late."

Ignoring his words entirely, you fixate your serious gaze on him, "You can't do this to me."

"What?" he blinks, seeming to comprehend your words, "Why?" his gaze momentarily shifts from one eye to the other with a swift glance, reflecting his confusion.

"Because all my life, I did everything to try to make you notice me. I went beyond my comfort zone, I did everything I could. But from you," You look at him, gesturing towards his entire figure as if the reason were obvious, "there was nothing. Not one single acknowledgment from you. I accepted it. I moved on. I made peace with the thought of just knowing you and supporting what is good for you," You find yourself almost breathless, your words tumbling out rapidly, but each one carries sincere meaning. "You can't come now, years later, and pretend that you have a crush on me. I can't go through that again."

He takes a step forward, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I... I'm not pretending to—"

"And I'm so tired," you interrupt him, your voice faltering, "Now that I've finally let go of you, you can't say things like this."

"Let go?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "Of me?"

"Yes, Neteyam," you persist firmly. "Let go of you. I don't want you anymore."

The night air feels heavy with unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires as the silence underlines the shared acknowledgment of the chasm that has opened between you. Neteyam's expression shifts from disappointment to determination, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "How do I make you love me, then?"

It feels ironic that he's asking you that question, considering you used to be the one who always wondered how you could make him love you whenever you saw him. You groan in frustration, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

"I worked so hard to accept things as they are. That is not fair, Neteyam." A mix of sadness and anger can be heard in your voice.

"Please listen," he pleads, reaching out to touch your arm. You close your eyes, turning your head away. "I've been blind to your feelings, consumed by my own worries and obligations, and I didn't see what was right in front of me, hurting you in the process. I'm sorry I caused you pain. If I had known sooner…"

"What then?" you interrupt, your voice filled with bitterness. "Do you think everything would magically change, and we'd be deeply in love with a family of our own by now?"

Neteyam pauses for a moment, processing your words, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. "Yes, that's a possibility."

You groan in exasperation and attempt to push him away, your frustration boiling over. "No, Neteyam. I can't keep living in this cycle of uncertainty."

As you push him away from you, your heart heavy, you walk away with determined steps, wanting to bring as much distance between him and you as possible.

"I love you!" he shouts after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks and turn around in utter shock. "I love you. And if that's not enough, then so be it. But I would rather be damned than let you go now, heading who knows where in the middle of the night. If you don't want me, I won't approach you, I won't come near. But don't run away from me."

Desperation visible in his voice, his words reach deep into your heart; the intensity echoing in the air, leaving a profound impact on both of you.

"I've been waiting for your love for far too long," you respond bitterly.

Taking cautious steps in your direction, trying to close the physical and emotional distance between you, he asks, "Why waste more time?" It feels as if an invisible force draws you together, intertwining your fates in this pivotal moment but you remain stubborn, too exhausted and clouded from the painful burn in your heart.

"I don't want you," you declare, the words slipping out uncertainly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

"Then look me in the eyes when you say those words," he challenges, his voice stern, gaze unwavering.

"I don't want you," you repeat, louder this time, trying to emphasize your resolve. However, instead of looking into his eyes, your gaze fixates on his face, tracing the patterns of his glowing freckles that your mind has memorized long ago.

The moonlight bathes the scene in a gentle gleam, and you both stare at each other in complete silence, the space between you filled with suffocating tension.

A knowing smile suddenly forms on his lips. "I don't believe you."

"I don't want you, Neteyam!" you exclaim, raising your voice even more, repeating the words over and over, in a desperate attempt to convince him, "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you!"

He studies you intently for another moment, his eyes filled with hope.

"Your tail gives you away," he says triumphantly, his smile growing. And that's when you finally let go of your suppressed emotions. Your lower lip begins to tremble, and before you know it, you find yourself in his warm embrace, his strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"I want you," you confessed against his chest, your voice barely audible and filled with so much vulnerability, "After everything, I still want you."

"Shh, you have me," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You sob, the weight of your emotions finally breaking free, and he tenderly pats your head, his fingers gliding through your hair. His touch brings a sense of calmness to your racing heart and gently dries your tears.

"I'll make up for all the time lost, I promise," his voice reaches your ear, soft and full of sincerity.

His words continue to soothe you, and at one point, he hums a faint melody that resonates deep within you, gradually bringing an end to your sobs.

"Do you recall the day you asked about my plans after my Dream Hunt, and I hesitated to provide an answer?" He asks after you calm down, his voice carrying an infinite sense of solace.

Your arms still around him, you nod against his chest, every word of that conversation etched into your mind.

"That day," he continues, "I have sworn to myself to admire your eternal beauty from afar, to cherish your body, mind, and soul until the end of my days," he whispers softly in your hair, "with the hope that one day I will hold you close and claim you as my very own."

You take a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your teary eyes meeting his with awe.

"I... I never imagined you felt this way," you whisper, your voice hoarse and fragile from your sobs. "To think that you've carried these feelings for me all this time, it's... I don't know what to say."

"Interesting," he comments, eyes with a gleam, lips playful, "You were just as oblivious to my feelings as I was to yours, so I guess that makes us even." A mischievous bunny-like smile plays across his face, transforming him into the youthful version of himself that you have fallen deeply in love with, no longer the mighty warrior following in the footsteps of the great Toruk Makto, but the young man who has captured your heart long ago.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the intensity of your own emotions. With a shaky breath, you reach to your waist, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

In the warmth of his arms, you find solace for your burning heart. His arms hold you tightly, offering a sense of intimate security that you've always wished for. But then, something shifts.

The intensity of your emotions begins to wane, and as you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, you see his gaze fixed upon you with unwavering love, trying to read you as he cups your face with his large hands. His thumb gently brushes away a lingering tear on your cheek, his touch delicate against your skin. A soft, affectionate smile graces his lips as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the place where your tear was mere seconds ago. The sweetness of the gesture stirs your heart, a silent affirmation of his loving nature. He continues to kiss away your tears, each touch a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

A powerful desire burns between you then, as his soft lips linger near yours. His eyes meet yours again, seeking permission, and you respond with a silent nod. Right then and there, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the connection you share. With a surge of passion, his lips meet yours in a fervent kiss, the longing coming to an end, hearts intertwined.

The tender touch of his lips against yours feels like an electric jolt that sends shivers down your spine. You both pull back slowly from the passionate kiss, breathless yet connected. Your eyes meet, gazing into each other with a depth of love that words can never describe.

His eyes hold unwavering sincerity as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "You've captured my heart in ways I can't fully express," he confesses, his voice filled with affection. "And if you'll allow me, I want to show you every day how deeply I love you."

A deep blue blush tints your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to respond. He doesn't seem to mind as a soft smile spreads across his face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, adoring the tranquil moment between two souls.

Enjoying each other's presence and your newfound attraction and happiness, you spend the rest of the night hand in hand wandering around mindlessly, exchanging loving gazes, talking about everything and sweet nothing's at once like two fools in love.

"Do you remember that day?" You hear him ask cheerfully as his free hand wanders to the songcord attached to his loincloth. You follow his movement and your eyes widen as you recognize the dried petals, intricately woven into one of the beads. "It was so unconventional, going against tradition. Who has ever seen a girl giving a flower to a boy? No one. But you didn't care. You were true to yourself, and you gifted me your favorite flower, and it meant so much more than just a little gesture."

Taking aback by his words and the bittersweet memory you can't help but smile widely as you inspect his songcord but confusion grazes your face at the same time.

"Wait—What do you mean? Lo'ak told me it's your favorite flower."

"No, he told me it's your favorite."

"Well, it became my favorite after I learned that it's yours."

A boisterous laugh escapes him as he throws his head back, his chest almost vibrating, and it is so contagious that you can't help but join in, the air filled with heartfelt laughter.

"It's gonna cause quite a scandal, but Lo'ak definitely deserves a good punch when he wakes up." You laughed, knowing that he meant that half-heartedly.

He delicately cradles your hand back in his, your fingers intertwining as he brings them up, his lips softly brushing against your knuckles in a loving kiss. The touch sends a warmth through your body.

"Speaking of scandals," you say sheepishly as you reluctantly let go of his hand, "maybe it's better not to enter our village hand in hand just yet?"

He chuckles at your suggestion.

"Maybe," he agrees, his eyes filled with adoration, his face leaning slightly forward, "Can I have one last kiss before that?"

You look at him challengingly, he mirrors your expression, a playful glint in his eyes, coming closer to your face.

Your lips almost touching for the second time this night, you whisper, "Only if you catch me."

With that, you run off, your heart blooming with excitement, and his laughter follows you through the enchanting forest as the sun rises, casting its warm rays across the sky, and you know that the future holds nothing but love for the both of you.

for anyone asking, neteyam does in fact catch you and gets his kiss(es) <3 thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging 🤍 btw, what is your love language? 💕

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onlyjaeyun · 2 months

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𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟑𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘: 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟐𝐤

⤥ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭; 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡), 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

“No, I don’t like it so stop pointing it out, snowflake!”

Sunghoon’s young voice echoes in your skull as your eyes remain focused on the little mole on the right side of his nose bridge, a detail to his prince-like features you’ve always noticed yet never acknowledged.

As you watch your archenemy have a good night with his closest friends and cousin, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander all the way back in memory lane to a conversation you’ve never forgotten.

“But it’s so cute, Hoonie”, you had told him, never once looking away from his eyes, the ones you used to find so much comfort in, especially during one of the most difficult times in your life, “don’t you know what the legend about moles marking the spots where your past lover kissed you the most?”

“Hm, they were obsessed with my face then”, he huffed and rolled his eyes, completing the knot on his skates before getting up on his feet and shooting you one of his big, cheeky smiles; the one where a tiny dimply makes an appearance.

“Why would you say it like that? Stop belittling yourself like that”, you pouted back at him and looked at him with big eyes, your skates still not completely tied up, which – just as usual – resulted in Sunghoon getting down on his knees to finish it for you. Something the two of you have always done for some reason, but never in a million years would you have changed it for anything else.

It used to be in those moments right before and after practice which made you feel the closest to your skate partner of six years, the one guy in your life who had always been there for you and your brother, the one who had never, ever disappointed you.

“You know I don’t like my face much because of how much I look like my father”, Sunghoon had casually explained to you before looking up at you with longing, innocent eyes, “you wouldn’t know what that feels like after all.”

For some reason, this particular part of said conversation had never quite left your memories, your heart feeling at ease as you remember how you had tilted your head to the back in confusion, not quite understanding what he was referring to.

“You know in some cultures they say you look like the parent who loves you the most”, he had started to explain, not struggling to read your facial expressions at all, even back then, “you’re a carbon copy of your mother, in every way possible. However, in some other cultures it’s said that if your mother is so in love with your father, it’ll turn you into his twin so I guess we’re yet again on the same line but different ends.”

Sunghoon had always had a way with words, no matter his age and you still remember just how much you had loved listening to everything he had to say. He’d never been one to talk much, but the things he said had always carried meaning.

“But I’m not really sure if I actually read this or heard some random ladies talk about this once so, I’m not a reliable source at all.”

As your brain replays that last statement, you can’t help but smile to yourself and it’s only when Sunghoon suddenly turns his head to meet your gaze that you’re pulled back into reality by brutal force.

You’re quick to avert your eyes, not ready to accept whatever the fuck has been going on with you and to your luck Sunghoon doesn’t seem to care enough (as usual) to acknowledge your staring.

No matter how many times he cums inside of you, your precious archenemy probably won’t ever treat you like an actual part of society before and after your shared orgasms and when in the beginning you actually preferred it that way, you’ve now found yourself doubting and questioning his behavior.

It’s not like Sunghoon’s actually nice to you when the two of you get intimate but besides the first time, he’s never once has he made you feel unwanted or disgusting. In any other situation his behavior and the way he treats and touches you would have provoked and irritated you, but whenever the burning tension between the two of you becomes too much and you have no choice but to give in over and over again, your body longs for those exact things and you actually don’t hate it as much as you used to.

Back when you had first started sleeping with Sunghoon, you’d try your best to just not think about it anymore until the next booty call but now you actually caught yourself going out of your way to get physical with him.

It’s not something that just dawned on you but rather a realization which hit you since you’ve been spending quite a bit of time in close proximity with him for the past three days.

Every time the boys want to head out after your daily activities, you find yourself hoping that Sunghoon decides to stay back in the airbnb too, just because you don’t actually want to rush things with him anymore when it comes to sex. You’ve come to the point where he makes you feel so good, you actually want it to go on for as long as possible.

You still can’t believe that you’re actually admitting this to yourself but after all this time you’ve grown exhausted, tired and mentally drained, which is probably why it doesn’t really matter to you anyway.

To Park Sunghoon you’re nothing but a quick, easy and convenient fuck. That’s it. And it’s good this way. That’s why there’s no point in worrying about why the fuck would your brain start coming up with things and thoughts which don’t even make sense, right?

“She’s ignoring us again”, Jaeyun chuckles and nudges your side with his elbow before he throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer to his body, quickly reminding you of your current situation.

Your eyes almost instinctively shift to Sunghoon’s face, only for instant regret to hit your system when you notice the look of disgust and annoyance gracing his features.

“Sorry, boys”, you sigh and pat Jaeyun’s chest, “this week’s been so exhausting, I think the lack of sleep is finally getting to me.”

“So, you’re not gonna join our night time adventure either?” Sunoo shoots you a pout of disappointment and with a soft sigh you imitate his facial expression and shake your head.

“I really need to get some sleep for our day trip to Koto tomorrow”, you respond and look at each of the boys individually but intentionally skip a certain someone, “we’ve been up and on the road for twelve hours straight, fourth day in a row and as much as I want to, I know my body’s not gonna cooperate much longer if I don’t rest.”

The thought of a warm shower, a few cigarettes on your airbnb’s balcony, a nice glass of wine and absolute silence remains the only thing on your mind despite the slight pengs of guilt hitting your chest for not joining your boys yet again.

“It’s okay, mother”, Jungwon quickly responds and puts on his coat with a big, dimply smile, “you probably didn’t hear it but I’ve always been against forcing old people out of their comfort zone.”

With a soft scoff you roll your eyes and thank Riki as he hands you your jacket, all of the boys taking the last sips of their soft beverages before saying your goodbyes and leaving the sweet little restaurant you had decided to have dinner at.

You quietly listen to the boys and their plans, Jaeyun quickly offering you a cigarette as he lights his own and with a tight lipped smile you thank him, way too tense and absentminded for your own liking but too exhausted to question it.

“Alright, I’ve ordered you two an uber too”, Riki says casually and runs one of his ring clad hands through his bleached hair, his statement leaving you nothing but confused.

“Huh? I’m the only one going back to the airbnb”, you say and furrow your brows with your eyes focused on your younger brother’s face.

“No, Hoon’s also not tagging along”, Jaeyun replies casually and blows the smoke out of his nose as he looks at you just as confused.

“What the fuck? Why?”

“That’s none of your fucking business”, Sunghoon almost instinctively spits back at you, his thick brows pushed together as he stares at you with annoyance gleaming in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up”, you hiss and roll your eyes, too exhausted to even bother with his weird attitude. It’s not like you haven’t noticed his change in behavior and attitude these past few days but with everything that’s been going on in your own brain you simply can’t find the energy to read more into it than absolutely necessary.

“Please, don’t chop each other’s head off on your way to the rooms”, Jaeyun chuckles but as soon as his gaze flickers between the two of you, you realise just how much seriousness there actually is behind his words.

Without saying anything else, you say your farewells to the boys as the cars you had ordered come to a stand in front of you and just as expected (and hoped for), SUnghoon gets comfortable on the passenger seat while you slide into the back and pray the taxi driver isn’t as chatty as the other ones.

To your luck, Sunghoon uses hsi limited Japanese to give the man your address and the rest of the drive passes by quietly, almost peacefully. There’s never been a place like Tokyo to you; not a single spot on this earth has ever managed to make you feel at such ease and comfort the way your mother’s birthplace has.

You’re so caught up watching the streets of your favorite place, you don’t even notice the way Sunghoon has been watching you from his peripheral vision the past ten minutes, something he can’t help but beat himself up for because why the fuck does the urge to look at you just doesn’t seem to disappear?

Never in a million years would he admit this to you but there’s definitely a reason why he’s been making sure to always push you into a position where he can look at your face. He’s not quite sure why or where the sudden urge has come from but for some reason he just can’t keep his eyes off of you.

Sunghoon still hates your guts.

He really does.

But the more he gets to touch and kiss you, the deeper this weird hunger and lust seem to run and at this point he has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s actually thinking. Or feeling.

You still annoy and irritate the living hell out of every pore in his body, yet these past few days he’s found himself upset and even disappointed about the fact he can’t spend more time with you after fucking your brains out. He doesn’t necessarily want to hold you, nor does he really want to cuddle or be close to you but there’s definitely been a few times where he caught himself wishing the boys weren’t on their way back so he could just spend a few more minutes just watching you.

Maybe it’s the way you seem so relaxed and at ease after he’s pushed you over the edge over and over again, or maybe it’s because the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and a cigarette dangling from your pouty, bit swollen lips in combination with your messed up hair and the fresh memory of your sweet noises echoing in his head, which make things so much more difficult for him but at the end of the day the reason doesn’t matter.

Sunghoon hates you.

You’re the only person who’s disappointed and betrayed him in such a cruel, such a raw way and every time he finds himself caught up in thoughts about you, he can’t help but remind himself of all the nights he spent on the ice rink, crying, sobbing and silently praying you’d just come back and make your shared dreams become reality, only for his heart and soul to break all over again when he remembered your betrayal.

With his hands balled into fists and a soft huff, Sunghoon angrily averts his gaze from you and as his eyes start to scan the area you had just entered, a wave of relief hits him.

“That’s the one, Sir”, he casually says and almost immediately bites his tongue when he realizes the falling of his mask.

Nobody on this earth knows how all those years ago, Sunghoon had decided to learn Japanese, simply because he wanted to feel even closer to two of the most important people in his life, only for your betrayal to take away the joy and excitement of it.

But despite his broken heart, he knew he had to finish what he had started, initially for you, not because he necessarily needed it but because he didn’t want you to take this away from him too.

Never once has he mentioned his fluency in his best friend’s mother tongue to anybody, not even his other close friends and at times he definitely forgot about it only for his chest to tighten whenever he listened to your little conversations with your brother, the both of you so much more relaxed and outspoken in your mother tongue than the one you both had grown up with.

When at first Sunghoon had intended to talk to Riki about it, he never really knew how to explain the actual reasoning behind his decision to study and become fluent in Japanese, so after a few years, he just decided to keep it to himself for as long as possible.

There’s no point in letting you know when you don't even care anyway.

Fortunately you seem way too immersed in your thoughts to pay any attention to his slip up and by the time Hoon gets out of the uber, you’ve already lit yet another cigarette.

“What are you waiting for?” You suddenly ask when you notice his lack of motion.

“Just finish that god damn cig and get your ass inside”, Sunghoon sighs, “I promised not to leave you alone so stop making this even more difficult for me than it already is.”

“What a gentleman you are”, you roll your eyes in response to his annoying comment, the little fire in the depth of your chest burning up just enough to irritate you, “I’m not in the mood to fuck, just piss off already.” For a quick moment you catch yourself in a lie and you hate how your hormonal self almost instantly regrets your little come back.

Because no matter how hard you try to deny it, your body craves Sunghoon’s touch which has now resulted in a libido you have never experienced before. So, no, you actually are very much in the mood but for some reason you can’t help but feel stressed and anxious just thinking about all the feelings, doubts and thoughts which come hand in hand with the pleasure he’s providing you with.

“Can you not be so fucking difficult for once? I’m not waiting for you to come inside to fuck, I promised Riki to keep an eye on you, that’s it.”

While your first instinct is to shoot something back at him, a tiny, almost inaudible yet strong voice in the back of your head somehow manages to stop you from giving into the urges and with an annoyed sigh you kill your half-smoked cigarette and through it into the next trashcan before wordlessly heading towards the entrance of the apartment building.

You both continue walking up the stairs without saying another word and you hate how much the lack of verbal communication bothers you. If it wasn’t for your best friend pointing it out, you would have never noticed just how little you and Sunghoon actually talk to each other and ever since your conversation about it, you haven’t stopped thinking about it.

“What the fuck?”

The suddenness of his exclamation as well as the unusual volume of his voice are quick to pull you out of the mess in your head and with your brows furrowed in confusion you follow Sunghoon’s cold gaze.

For a moment, you don’t actually know what or who you’re looking at.

Maybe it’s one of you body’s defense mechanisms or maybe it’s the fog clouding your brain but in no universe should it take this long for someone to recognize their younger brother – and father.

“Is this a fucking joke?” The switch in language comes almost naturally and the longer your eyes roam the figures of the two men in front of you, the quicker the blood starts pumping through your veins.

It’s one thing to see your younger half-brother again, his impact and affect on your life in no way harmful or very much life altering. But the sight of your father, the first of many men to not only disappoint and break you but also the first of many to make you feel unloveable, disgusting and unworthy of everything good in this life easily leaves you speechless.

You can feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your side, his attention remaining on you as if he was trying to read your body language but miserably failing to do so when all the trauma responses hit you at full force.

“Just listen to us for a few minutes”, Kenta says and looks at you with genuinely pleading eyes but for the first time in your life you feel actual resentment towards the brother you had tried so hard to protect and keep safe. You’ve always reminded yourself of his age, of his lacking experience in life, his brain still developing but as your eyes anxiously roam his features, all those excuses seem to disappear when you realize just how much he’s grown.

He’s now three years older than Riki when he had decided to ask his parents to sign off their parental rights to you, his older sister, because he knew exactly what type of people they were.

“Please, Y/N”, he suddenly pleas and takes a step forward, only for you to back off and Sunghoon quickly comes to stand between you and your brother.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Kenta”, he says nonchalantly, not giving a single fuck about the current chaos in his own head at the sight of your father, a man he’s never, ever associated anything good or positive with. Sunghoon hasn’t seen your father in over a decade, despite the close bond your dads used to share back in the day and as he remembers all the times he had punished you for a minor mistake or a failed move, his blood suddenly starts boiling.

“This isn’t about you, Sunghoon”, your father suddenly says and the sound of his voice sends chills down your back, the urge to burst into tears and yell at him for failing you suddenly overwhelming.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here? You’ve never called, never texted me back. The only times you actually contacted me were because you wanted something from me”, you don’t find the energy and guts to push Sunghoon away and actually face them again, so without giving it much more thought you opt to stay very much hidden behind your archenemy’s impressive height.

“Please, hear us out, Y/N”, Kenta pleads yet again, skillfully ignoring your accusations, “Yuki needs your support. We can’t do this without you.”

At first, your brain struggles to process his words but as soon as you manage to read in between the lines, you feel every last bit of oxygen leaving your lungs and a thin veil of tears blurring your vision.

“What?”

“Kenta, take your failure of a father and fuck off”, Sunghoon is quick to spit back at your brother, anger and wrath lingering in his voice as he threatens your brother.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Kenta? What do you mean Yuki needs my support? For what?”

You know the answer to your question but deep down you know you need to hear it from him or your father to finally close this chapter for good. All these years you’ve believed in ideas and wishful thoughts of your other siblings finding their way back to you, but not anymore. The few bits of information Riki had shared with you were enough to block Kenta’s number but now that you’ve actually got the chance to hear him say all those things, just casually crushing your soul and taking away the tiniest drops of hope you had left, you definitely weren’t gonna let it slip away.

“Y/N, sweetheart”, your father begins calmly, his voice a lot less vengeful and harsh than you’ve remembered; his choice to not only address you by your actual name, something he had refused to since the day of your eighth birthday, but also to use the nickname he had only used for his second wife send jolts of anger through your veins and before Sunghoon can even react, you’ve made your way around him to get into your own father’s face.

“Don’t you fucking dare play innocent now”, you spit and bite back the tiny sob threatening to escape your throat when you notice the lack of emotion in the eyes of the only parent you had left.

“Alright, seems like the nice way still doesn’t work with you”, he suddenly sighs and straightens his back, the faux softness in his features quickly vanishing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down at you the way he’s always done during every conversation the two of you ever had.

“Yuki wants to attend the same boarding school as Kenta and as her older sister it’s your duty to step up financially when we can’t.”

You’ve never expected anything from your father, not a single thing ever since the day your mother passed away. It’s not like he actually ever cared about you anyway, so it’s never made sense for you to put any effort into whatever the fuck kind of bond you two had or didn’t have.

But for some reason you did expect him to have just the tiniest bit of dignity and pride, maybe a little bit of ego or self worth, just enough not to be desperate and shameless enough to ask the daughter he had abandoned, disowned and shamed for money.

“My duty? Are you mentally challenged?”

“Watch your fucking language when you talk to him, he’s still your father”, Kenta suddenly intervenes and as soon as your head shoots into his direction, you notice the shift in his facial expression. All of a sudden you can’t actually unsee the resemblance to your father, something you’ve always preferred to ignore for your own sake.

“He’s nothing to me, you fucking bitch”, you hiss and not once avert your gaze away from his, knowing he’s gonna use the difference in height to his own advantage when he has no idea of the people you’ve gotten in fights with over the years. To his defense, he doesn’t actually know anything about you in the first place.

“it’s the middle of the night, just stop wasting our time and give us the fucking money, you worthless cunt.”

Your father’s heartless words hit you like a punch right in the guts; the feeling something you haven’t felt in a while and probably something online he’s ever been able to make you go through. His choice of words and tone isn’t something new or surprising to you because even after five years of barely any contact with each other, your father has never bothered to hide his resentment for you as an individual. Every person you’re close with has heard your own father talk to you like this at least once and no matter how much time passes, the waves of humiliation and shame just don’t seem to become any less overwhelming.

“I don’t owe you shit, you old fuck”, you defend yourself once you’ve finally found your voice, hating the little shake in your breathing, “you took everything I’ve ever loved, ever card about. Fuck you, fuck your ugly ass wife and fuck your kids.”

“Watch your fucking mou-”, this time Kenta doesn’t get to step even closer to you, nor does he get to finish his threat as Sunghoon comes back into your peripheral vision and before you can physically react, you watch your former cie skating partner reach for your younger brother’s collar and swiftly push him up against the wall.

“I don’t give a fuck about your age, back the fuck off or I’ll rearrange both sets of teeth in that big mouth of yours, got it?”

“What exactly did we take from you, huh? Come on, name me one actual example and I’ll leave”, your father scoffs and rolls his eyes, reminding you of all the times he had manipulated and gaslit you into thinking and genuinely believing every insult and criticism he had thrown into your face.

“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, yeah typical Nishimura Y/N behavior”, he suddenly chuckles and looks at you with mockery gleaming in his exhausted gaze, a sight so surreal and sad it actually has your blood boiling, “screaming, swearing, pointing your fingers at others when it’s usually your own fault – you really haven’t changed, have you? Still the silly little girl who expects the world to revolve around her when she couldn’t even sacrifice anything for her own blood.”

“What?”

Your father tilts his head to the side as soon as he notices the tears blurring your vision, knowing very well what his words have done to you and where one would expect him to finally back off, the pain and agony in your facial features only make him want to take things as far as possible. He’s always pushed you past your breaking point, not because he wanted you to grow, but because he actually enjoys seeing you in such pain. He’s always referred to it as his own way of torture since he’s never been powerful enough to use his hands on you.

“What do you mean ‘what’? First you claim that we’ve taken something away from you and now you’re surprised when I point out your lack of sacrifices for the family?”

“I – My childhood, my youth, my dreams – I sacrificed everything I’ve ever had to please you”, your voice is quite and steady, more confused than angry as you struggle to understand what the fuck is actually going on, “I was never enough. Nothing I’ve ever done or achieved was enough to please you and that bitchass wife of yours.”

“Don’t talk about her like that”, your father suddenly spits and reminds you of his biggest trigger, “she’s never done anything but love you like her own but all you did was badmouth her because you’re an ungrateful, spoiled little bitch who’s bound to fail in life.”

“What the fuck – are you even talking about?” This time you refuse to keep your cool as you raise the volume of your voice and actually push him away, too disgusted by his words to bear with the close proximity any longer.

It’s then that Sunghoon finally lets go of your younger brother to come in between you and your father, knowing he won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary. He knows you can handle this by yourself but at the end of the day he would never, ever let that fucker or anyone lay a hand on you.

“Your step-mother alway tried her best but you never–”, “Shut the fuck up. That fucking bitch took away my biggest dream and all you did was give her the approval she needed to ruin my life”, you don’t care about the time and the current location you’re in, too exhausted and emotionally drained to hold back any of it any longer, “go ahead and keep praising that ugly bitch because that’s the only thing you’re good for anyway. Trying to please one tyrant because the one in your childhood never loved you enough to give a fuck about his fucking loser son.”

You’ve only ever met your paternal grandfather a couple of times in your life but from all the things your maternal aunt had told you, he’s never really been a big fan or supporter of his own son, finally explaining your father’s lack of basic human decency.

“You fucking bitch”, and as those words leave his lips, you actually watch the way your father lifts his arm, only for his hand never reaching its goal.

Yet again, Sunghoon happens to be way faster than your brain can actually follow as the next thing your eyes witness is the sight of your archenemy casually holding onto your father’s wrist before twisting his arm into the other direction and eliciting a painful scream from the old man’s throat.

“Not on my fucking watch, you loser”, Sunghoon presses through gritted teeth and twists your father’s arm a little further, “you’re never, ever going to come close to her again, di you hear me? Now take that scumbag of a son and fuck off or I’m gonna finish what your daddy started.”

“You little–”, “You don’t want to see what happens if I have to repeat myself, you fucking cunt. Now fuck. Off.”

The following few minutes pass by in a blur as you watch Kenta and your father really doing as they’re told and as soon as you step into the somehow comforting space of your airbnb, you feel a wave of exhaustion roll over you.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything, yet refuses to leave you alone.

But why? Why does he care so much about you and why does he genuinely want to run after two two fuckers and beat the living shit out of them for hurting you like this?

He hates you.

But the sight of your tear filled eyes send him into a literal panic mode.

He can’t fucking stand you, your personality, you as an individual, everything you say and stand for.

Yet he quietly follows you into one of the bedrooms knowing he’s gonna argue with you if you dare to send him away.

“Just fuck off”, you spit, as if you could read his thoughts and usually your words would rub him the wrong way, but after all these years, Sunghoon is just too familiar with your coping mechanisms, so without giving it another thought, he shakes his head, yet not responding verbally.

“Sunghoon, just get the fuck to your room and leave me alone. I really can’t deal with your shit right now”, you sigh and rub your temples, throwing your jacket off like it’s the reason for the heavy feeling on your chest.

“Take it out on me.”

What the fuck is he saying?

“What?”

“Stop bottling your anger and frustration up like a fucking child”, he hisses and runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes focusing yours as he watches hsi words finally make their way through your thick skull, “punch me, scream at me, curse me the fuck out but stop pushing it all away like it never happened. You’re ruining yourself for people who are worth shit.”

“Sunghoon, I–”, but to your surprise, his words actually trigger something deep inside of you and before you can actually realise it, tears have started streaming down your cheeks, ruining the make up you had spent so much time on.

“Fucking finally”, he grunts and reaches for your wrist, only to pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around your body, not expecting you to instantly melt into hsi touch as your cries and sobs start growing heavier, louder and more desperate.

You bury your face in the fabric of his hoodie and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about anyone else but yourself.

Sunghoon remains silent as you allow yourself to wail and cry in his arms like a little girl, the one you had refused to let out as the mere thought of someone seeing you like this makes you nauseous but for some reason, you don’t seem to care that it’s him, of all people.

Maybe it’s because you know he actually doesn’t give a fuck, not about you or anything and anyone else. Or maybe it’s because of how tired and exhausted you are, but the more your father’s words ring in your ears, the heavier your cries become.

As you lose yourself in the pain and agony of your fate, SUnghoon can’t help but think of all the times you had cried in his arms when the two of you were just little kids trying to find a home in the arms of someone you had always trusted. The more memories and mental images of your ten year old self rush through his head, the stronger his hold on your body becomes and with a soft sigh, Sunghoon finally allows himself to lift his hand and gently caress the back of your head, your back and even your cheeks.

You have absolutely no idea just how long the two of you stay like this but by the time your cries finally die down, you feel lightheaded and sleepy.

There’s so much you want to say, question and ask, so much to discuss and talk about, so many things left unsaid yet the second you lift your head to look up at him, the only thing you can think about is the comfort and peace of mind his touch comes with.

Neither one of you dares to speak a word as the tension in the empty bedroom grows thicker and thicker, leaving you gasping for air and from the inconsistent movements of his chest, you can tell that Sunghoon’s probably going through the same mental dilemma as you.

“I need you”, you suddenly whisper against his lips, his nose nudging yours as he waits for you to ask for it the way he always does, “please, Sunghoon. I don’t wanna think anymore.”

As soon as you say those words, he’s a goner.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, at the end of the day he simply can’t hide the fact that all it takes is for you to ask for him, his body, his touch. No matter how much he hates it, he knows his body belongs to you and at this point he’s more than willing to look past whatever the fuck has happened between the two of you if it meant he gets another taste of you, the most forbidden of fruits.

The next thing you know is the feeling of his plump lips capturing yours in a needy kiss, a soft whimper bubbling up your throat the second his tongue grazes yours and without giving it much more thought, you push everything else into the farest corner of your brain and make sure he becomes the only thing on your mind,

Sunghoon’s kisses are hungry, they’re sloppy and needy; something you’ve grown obsessed with ever since the first one you two had shared all those weeks ago.

With every motion of his lips, the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your warm skin and his saliva slowly coating the entirety of your tongue you feel yourself ascending into the highest parts of your lust.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to grow impatient, the only thing on his mind being your pleasure and the urge to give you exactly what you need.

With his big, ring clad hands roaming your body, kneading the soft flesh of your waist and your thighs, Sunghoon quickly gets rid of your little black skirt, but also not wasting much time with the rest of your clothes. By the time he’s guided you to the king sized bed on the other side of the room, you’ve lost every piece of fabric separating your soft skin from his needy touch and you don’t even care about the fact that Sunghoon has yet to take off any of his own clothes.

“Lay back, spread those legs for me”, he grunts after letting go of your bottom lip, his own swollen and red, the sight so sinful you feel lightheaded by the time the fog clouding your brain finally clears up.

Usually you’d protest and tease him, too proud to give him what he’s asked of you right away but as you look up at him with glossy eyes, you notice the hunger in his gaze and all you can do is obey his request without hesitation.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, snowflake”, Sunghoon grunts and gently places his hands on your knees right before pulling your legs apart, revealing your drenched cunt to his hungry eyes, “she’s all mine, after all. Isn’t that right?”

His words leave you speechless, something you have yet to grow used to when it comes to Park Sunghoon and yet you don’t actually question him and silently nod in response to his hypothetical question.

For the first time since the two of you had started being intimate with each other, you’re actually feeling much more than just this deep burning wrath and hatred, so much more than hunger and lust. It’s deeper, darker and so, so much scarier.

“Eyes on me”, Hoon suddenly hisses and pinches the soft flesh of your inner thigh to get your attention back on him, mostly because he knows he’s gonna lose you to those dark thoughts and doubts if he doesn’t.

“Just cum when you need to”, he whispers against the wet flesh of your pussy, his tongue lapping up the few drops leaking out of your sensitive hole almost casually, “I’m not gonna stop until you’re crying again. But this time it’s gonna be because of how good I’m making you feel, got it?”

Yet again, all you can do is nod but this time it’s not enough. Sunghoon needs to hear you.

“Use your words or I’m not gonna let you cum at all”, he groans and lifts his head up to look at you, “don’t disappoint me now, snowflake.”

“Yes, Sunghoon”, you quickly reply, your head back to its cloudy state as the anticipation for what’s to come overwhelms your senses, “please, just make me feel good.”

And Park Sunghoon has never needed to be told twice when it came to a request of this kind.

The following minutes are filled with loud slurping, a mixture of your high pitched moans and Sunghoon’s muffled grunts, as he makes sure to lap up every single drop of your sweet juices, genuinely afraid to waste any of it and losing himself in the taste of your perfect pussy. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of your archenemy between your legs, his face flushed, tinted in the sweetest shades of shade, the skin of his chin and his cheeks, even the tip of his nose glisten from your juices and his eyes filled with so much lust and hunger, you actually can’t remember seeing him as fucked out as in this particular moment.

With every single swift motion of his tongue against your sensitive clit, you feel yourself falling deeper into the haze of your pleasure and as he manages to push you over the edge not once, not twice but three times in a row, you have to use every bit of your remaining strength to push his head away from your pussy; the sensitivity and overstimulation too much for your exhausted body to handle.

“E-Enough”, you sob softly, your hand firmly holding onto the thick strands of his hair as Sunghoon casually litters your inner thighs in open mouthed kisses, sucking the skin into his mouth every now and then to leave his marks to make sure they remind you of him the following days.

What the fuck is he thinking?

“Think you can do one more for me? Wanna fuck you to sleep so you’re properly rested for our day trip tomorrow”, Sunghoon teases you with a shit eating grin on his face as he comes to stand on his sore feet, calmly taking off his hoodie as well as his jeans, knowing how much it actually annoys you whenever he takes too much time with it.

“Fuck off”, you huff and pull your swollen bottom lip between your teeth, impatiently waiting for him to finally reveal his hard cock to your hungry eyes.

“Should I?”, he suddenly mumbles and pushes his boxer briefs down his thighs, his big cock slapping against his toned stomach and instantly leaving a tiny stain on his spale skin.

Without even replying to his sneaky comment, you sit yourself up and wrap your fingers around the length of his hard cock, looking up at him with glossy, needy eyes and tear stained cheeks, a sight so sinful and breathtaking, Sunghoon can’t physically stop himself from taking your face into one of his hands as he calmly thrusts his cock into your fist.

His eyes roll into the back of his head the second your tongue darts out to lick over his angry tip but after tongue fucking you for almost an hour straight, he simply has no patience left.

“Head back , stick your tongue out and keep your eyes on me”, he grunts and pushes his hand into your hand to help you follow his instructions, only for his cock to give away just how much he likes just how quick you are to follow his demands as it twitches in your grip and actually makes you smile cheekily.

Sunghoon tugs at the roots of your hair and takes a whole moment to admire how good you look all fucked out and ready for him and him only.

What the fuck is going on? He hates you. Hate.

This time he won’t let those confusing thoughts get the best of him as he puckers his lips and lets a thick drop of his spit fall onto the back of your tongue and carefully watches the way you swallow it without hesitation.

Within just a few minutes he makes his way on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs and casually rubbing his rock hard cock against your needy, yet overly sensitive slit.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, did you hear me? I want you to look at me when I fuck and fill that little pussy up”, Sunghoon breathes against your lips and lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when your little hole starts clenching in response to his touch.

“Just fuck me already”, you hiss when the impatience finally catches up on you, “the boys will be back soon and I really want you to cum inside of me.”

Why the fuck would you say something like that? And why the fuck don’t you regret it as much as you're supposed to?

“Will you look at that?” Sunghoon chuckles and pushes his tip a little deeper inside of your tight cunt, grunting and groaning as soon as your hot walls embrace him again, “got so used to being filled to the brim with my cum, can’t go to sleep without it anymore, hm?”

“F-Fuck off–oh, my God”, your voice breaks into a high pitched moan as soon as Sunghoon thrusts a few more inches of his impressive length inside of you and if it wasn’t for the weird urge to keep your unspoken promise of maintaining eye contact, you would have lost you remind already.

“There we go, just a little bit more.” Did he just praise you? No, encourage you? No teasing? No bickering? Actual encouragement?

“S-So big”, you whisper the second he bottoms out and you actually feel his tip graze the entrance to your womb, “more, Sunghoon. Stop fucking with me.”

“Don’t brat out on me now, snowflake”, he chuckles, not necessarily bc of how amusing you are but mostly because he’s desperately trying to hide how good you’re making him feel, “I’m gonna cum inside of this pussy tonight, I don’t give a fuck if the boys hear or see us or not.”

“Stop fucking playing and fuck me like you mean it already”, you hiss, this time genuine annoyance wavering in your tone and from the way you’ve been clenching around his cock for the past few minutes, Hoon can tell just how close you are. To his luck.

Without wasting anymore time, Sunghoon slowly pulls his cock out of your tight cunt only to thrust himself all the way back inside of you with one swift motion of his hips. It doesn’t take much time for him to find the perfect rhythm, his thrusts deep and hard, yet still fast and coordinated enough to hit the right spots and turn you into a nonsense babbling mess. Every time the tip of his cock hits the sweetest of spots deep inside of you, you feel yourself getting closer, your noises growing higher and louder, yet still not loud enough to overpower Sunghoon’s deep grunts and guttural moans.

The closer he gets, the deeper he loses himself in the sweet feeling of your cunt, the more he buries his face in your neck and as you tug on the strands of his freshly dyed dark hair, Sunghoon can’t help the little whines from escaping his sore throat.

“C-Close”, you finally whisper and push his big hand holding onto your tit down in between your legs hoping he just does what you silently requested instead of making you ask for it.

“Me too”, Hoonie grunts and pulls away from your neck, his cheeks even redder than, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead and his pretty lips parted as not a single breath he lets out is anything but a shaky moan.

“Look at me”, the demand comes out of nowhere but as soon as your eyes flatter open to find his, Sunghoon starts picking up the pace of his thrusts all while his fingers apply just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive clit.

And just when you’re about to stumble over the edge, Sunghoon quickly pushes his lips against yours and finally gives you the last thing you needed for the coil in your lower tummy to snap.

With a loud, dragged out whimper, your nails digging into his back and your vision blacking out, you loser yourself in the overwhelming waves of your orgasm, falling even deeper and harder when Sunghoon quickly follows you into sweet relief as he paints the insides of your tight cunt in several shades of white.

Just as usual, neither one of you can actually say anything as the sound of your heavy breathing remains the only thing to fill the emptiness of your bedroom.

However, this time Sunghoon refuses to just pull out and step away.

For some reason, the urge to take proper care of you becomes overwhelming, so with a soft sigh, he pulls away and starts caressing your heated skin.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what would be appropriate, so after soothing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, Sunghoon slowly pulls his now soft cock out and quickly reaches for his boxer briefs. Usually this is the moment where he hurries ot the bathroom to get you a towel, but this time he actually bends down to grab his hoodie from the floor before he holds his hand out for you to grab, only to help you put on right, and then heading out of the room to grab a towel.

Your brain is too foggy, too chaotic to read much into it and by the time he finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, Sunghoon casually lays on the other side of your bed and quickly pulls you into his arms.

Never in your life have you expected to find yourself in bed with Park Sunghoon’s steady heartbeat pounding underneath your ear. Yet for the first time in your life, you actually feel at total ease. Nothing matters and nothing will matter, not as long as you’re both like this.

And as Sunghoon attentively watches the way your lids grow heavier right before you drift off to sleep, he catches himself playing with a few strands of your hair and it’s then that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to his feelings than pure hatred.

Maybe he doesn’t actually hate you as much as he’s always thought.

But when his boys notify him about their arrival in a few minutes, Sunghoon has no choice but to pull away to save you both from a situation neither one is ready for and before he can overthink it, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and leaves after tucking you into bed properly.

Fuck. This actually just happened.

And he’s not even upset about it.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: HELLO MY BABIES!!!!! i missed you guys and CH so, so much!!!!! i’m so excited about this it’s lit 3:30am but i missed writing sm i just knew i had to finish this tonight! thank you guys so, so much for your patience and support, your understanding and sweetness. i love and appreciate you all so, so so much! i hope you enjoyed this chap and can’t wait to go back to regular updates!!!🥺🩷)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @jongszn @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @ariadores @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @luvkpopp @heeslut4life

#enhypen social media au #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen smau #enhypen sm au #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x female reader #park sunghoon smau #park sunghoon social media au #enhypen park sunghoon #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut

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azsazz · 3 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 14)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

_________________________________________

“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it.

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him.

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair.

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—”

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening.

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes.

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall.

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor.

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe.

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now.

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest.

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree.

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #modern!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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circeyoru · 1 month

Text

Unwanted Soul _ Part 9 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 (here)

The days when you worked for Lucifer were dull and boring, you saw nothing to gain even though you’re the one doing all the information searching and collecting. You went belong Lucifer’s expectation when you said you’ll infiltrate and plant yourself close to the source so that the information collected was reliable

Lucifer told you directly that he expected for you to just listen and gather what rumors were around and tell him, or what information was available then you report to Lucifer in a neat pile. Never did he think you’ll go above and beyond, considering your mood and status of wanting to get yourself a second death

Well, you didn’t really mind it all. Back when you were writing your novel, you had a ton of characters, each with different backgrounds and personality. You tried just researching online to get the information, but there wasn’t that feeling when you were writing them. You needed to get the feel of it. So you actually tried out part-time jobs from all over the place to get it

Turns out it worked since even a copy of the novel got such fame and wealth…

Now, you realized you didn’t need to create something for you to know what you have. With your new power, you seem to have something akin to photographic memory to the point you’ll be able to keep what you see and know like a compute file system. Very convenient and steal-proof

Your main target happened to be Vox, the TV Demon and an Overlord that is acquainted and in alliance with another two Overlords Velvette and Valentino. Lucifer requires newer information of the modern Overlords, so you went to the V Tower to sneak within their ranks

That was before your charm abilities from your pages developed to what you have today, so Lucifer gave you an entirely new look and some common powers so you didn’t make an impression on Vox or the other two Overlords

It was through Vox that you learned of Alastor as well. While you never saw him, you heard plenty from Vox to know they weren’t overly fond of the other. Alastor seem to tolerate Vox and didn’t even see Vox as a treat since it was all so childish from on outlooker’s perspective

But what you learned from within was even worse. Vox was controlling, very controlling. He not only hypnotizes the customer and reporters to boost his fame and gain loyalty, he treats his employee the same and than some. His people were treated as slaves, dehumanized, and worse than animals. All for Vox’s entertainment

“Don’t.” You firmly declined, “Let’s just get on with it.”

“Wow, you’re really into all that redemption thing? Goody-two-shoes huh.” Vox smirked condescending, “Can I get your name or?”

You glared, feeling the shadows riled up by the second, you back up away from Vox. “No. This is strictly business. I hope we don’t see each other after this.”

“Hot and feisty. I like that in a demon. Let’s see how you’re at persuasion.” He turned to the lift and gestures for you to follow him. “Well, come on then, representative.”

Throughout the entire time Vox was bringing you to the ‘meeting room’, he had been so annoying with his small talk. There were a few times he tried hypnotizing you already but you acted like nothing happened, it was fun to see him try

You declined any drinks and food he offered, he set them on the coffee table between the two couches you two were sitting on. This setting was quite perfect for him to try a more direct hypnotizes, even if you were to accuse him of so, he can say it was a glitch in the system or it’s just his screen acting up

Everything was set to give himself the advantage he needs and wants

As expected the only thing he had against the hotel and Charlie was the fact that his merchandise were all destroyed without his knowledge. Though he even come clean as to why he would be aware of they were gone or not, he lied and said it was to ensure his services were top-notch and that he could send his employees to repair or replace them with new ones

Why he was doing this was to show his appreciation to the epic battle Charlie and the hotel put up. To defend all of Hell and the other sinners even when no one asked, to give everyone hope that there was good in this hellhole. It moved Vox’s metallic heart beyond words

Such flattery. You know information that Vox tried to watch the battle, you panicked when you wonder if Vox saw your powers when you defended and saved Alastor. It doesn’t seem like he knows by the annoyance and degree he went to ensure the hotel was under surveillance. He’s finding that one demon that interrupted his show. He’s looking for you

To compensate, the hotel is to either send someone to work for Vox, of course without a soul contract but a business deal only, or give them Angel. What it means was that Angel was to stay at the V Tower for as long as it take for him to individually produce all the cost of the materials used to make the devices Vox installed in the hotel

It was basically a contract that would ensure that Angel doesn’t get redeemed, stays under the Vees’ or rather Valentino’s hold, and continues to bring profit or even more to the three Overlords. You heard that Angel’s boss was Valentino, you also heard about the little stunt Angel did to his boss outside of the studio. Valentino sworn revenge. This was it

When you weren’t agreeing immediately, you were in for a shock when Valentino and Angel appeared through the doors. They took a seat in the couch between yours and Vox’s, Angel forcefully gapped between Vox and Valentino so that if anything happened, they’d have a hostage. Because unlike them, the hotel and its people are oh so very kind

“Angel here volunteers to work on top of our contract on this little mishap.” Valentino grinned, playing with his pipe as he released a puff of red smoke. “Angel came all on his own too.”

“Then why isn’t he speaking on his own?” You challenged, it’d take a blind person to ignore the nervousness and uneasiness Angel was displaying. From what you observed, Angel truly likes it at the hotel. He wouldn’t willingly leave it and everyone. “Why are you speaking in his place?”

Vox raised a hand, answering as if it was all rehearsed. “Val is Angel’s boss, so it only makes sense he speaks on Angel’s behalf on something so important.”

Your eyes narrowed, “You got it backwards. On matters as important as this, the one directly involved should be the one talking.” You glared at Valentino, “Not to be spoken on behalf by.”

Vox laughed, “You forget. You’re at our mercy now, we don’t need to care for your wants.” He got up and strolled over to you, “You know, you’re quite talented. We could use someone like you here. If you agree to take Angel’s place, then Angel can go free from this deal. I’m sure with your talent, you can make up that number in no time.”

“That wasn’t what you offered.” You hissed, you could feel Alastor growing rage as well.

“Oh, need more incentive?” Vox smirked.

The moment he said that, the doors opened and revealed Velvette though it was what was dragged behind that caught you off guard. Husk, all beaten up and bantered, was being pulled into the room by some hellhounds that was in servitude to Velvette, or maybe the Vees.

Velvette gave a cunning grin, “You called?”

This was obviously a bad situation. Two hostages and three Overlords, one of them were in the worse pairing possible as well. This was all a trap

There was a high possibility that Angel didn’t want to answer Valentino’s calls and was dragged to the V Tower where he’s be powerless. Husk most possibly saw what happened and tried to stop it since you were going to the same place later on

In the end, two were caught and used as leverage to convince you into servitude of Vox. Maybe you shouldn’t have came, but you didn’t want them to get hypnotized again and this was their domain so Vox holds more power here

You’ll admit, you’re cornered. Do you call for Alastor? But Alastor couldn’t care less about Angel or Husk went you were on the line. He’d even agree with the deal Vox offered just because you would be out of harm’s way. You just know Alastor will do that. While he cares for your decision, but when it was your time away from him on the line, he’ll do anything to keep you within his hold

In that case, you’re left with one option

“You want compensation for your broken devices, yeah, I can handle it. But I will not be working here.” You spoke firmly, “The hotel has a 16 floors, each floor has around 10 rooms, each room has a VoxTech TV and a pair of speakers that were installed, in total that’s 160 TVs and 320 speakers. The lobby has a large screen made of 6 TVs and 8 pairs of speakers to provide high quality sound transperance, the top floor has a cinema that is made with 10 TVs and 10 pairs of speakers aligning the walls.”

As you were listing, everyone was surprised with how well you knew everything. Especially Angel and Husk since you were rarely out of your room or around. How you knew all this was a mystery to them.

“So in total, you require the compensation of 176 TVs and 356 speakers. I can provide all of them back to you in the newest condition, but I will not be working here.” You concluded.

“Wow, crazy math, but how can we be sure you can give us high quality goods?” Vox questioned, “We can’t trust that you’ll leave us high and dry after we agree. You can even give us cheap knockouts like some copycat off the streets.”

You opened your hand, “Give me something, anything.”

The Vees all looked at each other, then Valentino passed a gun of his to you. They eyed you suspicously while you plainly inspected the object, Angel and Husk watched in confusion of what you were doing

You ignored all the stared. This was your last result. You’ll show them your power and ability with a page, they wouldn’t know how you did it and they wouldn’t be able to control you since you have Alastor’s protection and you could always put Lucifer on the table. They wouldn’t dare touch a servant of the King of Hell

Your fingers brushed through the curves and texture, feeling where the edges were and how they felt. Then you began taking it apart. Vox kept Valentino in place when you began, Vox keeping an extra close eye on what you were doing. You laid out the parts in front of you, then you inspected each part like how you did to the gun as a whole

When you were done, you reassembled it all. You quickly aimed a shot into the wall behind you so they wouldn’t say you attempted assassination to add compensation. You got the gist of what was used to make it and how it was made. You remember the parts and you remember how to assemble and take it apart. The conditions are set. You can do it

You moved away your oversized coat and took out your book, writing the words ‘Valentino’s gun’ on the page before tearing it out and blew on it. Then in your hand appeared the exact same. You gave to Valentino to inspect them

He was surprised his gun was replicated to perfection. He didn’t mean to say it since he was shocked and covered his mouth

That’s all you need to hear. You took Angel and Husk to your side, telling Vox, without giving him the room to deject your offer. You will reproduce those TVs and speakers, Vox just need to wait patiently and you can have it done within a few days. Someone will come delivery them. End of story

“It’s you! Hahahaha! So it’s you all along!” Vox laughed, falling back down into the couch, “You win this! So you’re not bad at persuasion too.” He grinned, “Now I really like you.”

“Well, I still don’t like you.” You snarled.

“Playing hard to get, huh.” He waved his hand, “Sure, I’ll wait and see. If it’s not delivered in time, I’ll expect you to work for me.”

As quickly as you came to the bright studio that blinds your eyes, you left with Angel and Husk hand in hand just in case they tried something. The moment you were out of the building, Alastor reappeared and hugged the living daylights out of you, you returned the hug, melting into his hold

It was such a scary experience, but you know you got through it because Alastor was watching and listening all that time to support you

Alastor sent Husk and Angel back through the shadows to retell the message of a smooth negotiation and nothing else. They were to have the cover story of meeting you and Alastor on the way back and to pass the message along while the two of you enjoyed a stroll for the hardwork. Needless to say they agreed easily to that plan

You walked with Alastor arm in arm, leaning against him for a more physical support. You closed your eyes to rest a bit since it was way too bright in the studio and you trust Alastor enough to lead you on the right and safe path

Being the radio host he is, he talked and talked about anything and everything he could to fill the silence and give you the perfect voice to listen to. At the sight of Alastor, a number of demons left the area and stayed clear of him

Everything was very peaceful, just you and him strolling down the streets. It reminded the two of you during those days when you both were in your home area. You’d sometimes want to just stretch your legs and walk around. Alastor would accompany you to keep you safe

In the beginning, it was just you and your music while Alastor was busy with whatever bloody methods to keep the demons’ eyes off of you. Then you and Alastor made small talk so Alastor’s attention wasn’t on destroying some poor demon that was minding their own business. Turns out, that was one of moments that got you to see another side of Alastor

You smiled as you hugged onto Alastor’s arm, you felt Alastor’s miniature jerk before he relaxed again. You really wanted to tickle him, but you’ll save it for when you two are back behind closed doors to have more fun

“You! You in the giant stupid coat! Stop!” A voice shouted behind you and Alastor.

Alastor looked down to you, you nodded as you opened your eyes again. Alastor turned around, shielding you from the unknown demon’s sight. “What is it that you need from us?”

“I’m not talking to you, f**ker!” The demon exclaimed at Alastor, “Move aside or else.”

“Else?” Alastor’s head tilted to the side with his smile growing to a threatening grin, “Quite bold of you to assume you have a chance here.”

You peeked from behind Alastor, this demon was unfamiliar to you, not someone you messed with nor did you gather information on them for anything in discriminating. You wonder if you should let Alastor have at her since you already dealt with Vox today. But something bugged you with how desperate she was acting, very familiar. So you stepped out, “What is it?”

Her eyes seemingly light up and came over to you, gripping onto your shoulders tightly with that crazed look in her eyes. “You’re the one he wants. It was never me. Whatever he wants with you has nothing to do with me. It was all a lie. The contract, the flattery, the money, everything!”

“Huh?” You glanced over to Alastor with confusion, Alastor didn’t return the sentiment as he looked ready to rip the demon apart. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“I saw your powers over the pages, you’re the one he wants! I don’t know how we have similar powers, but yours is much more superior. Trade places with me, I’m begging! I can’t work for Vox!”

You backed up and slapped away her hands, retreating back to Alastor’s side. “Similar powers?”

You wondered if it was her, that friend of yours. You watched she continued to rant on about the benefits of working for Vox like she prepared to pitch it to a customer. This desperate plead was like her asking (demanding) that you continue writing that novel she stole so she can go publish it in her name

Do it in the name of friendship, she said. It started small, she asked for some tips to writing, it moved to asking for character reference sheets, then ideas on a sequel, last was your help to write the entire thing

She knew you have written it beforehand, she was aiming for that in the beginning. Again, she stole it while you were distracted with setting up a sleepover for her. You remember that empty look you had when you saw the barely closed front door, the pillow you were hugging fell from your grasp

The next week or so, the sequel to her (your) novel was out. Millions and billions of people flooded the bookshops, mass sell out signs for that book was taped to the display for the novel. She came back and praised you for a job well done, you hanged out with you and shared so much with you

All that time, you smiled and enjoyed the peace. Anything to help a friend, you innocently spoke. After all, she was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. She was your closest friend, things like these happen. See? She’s back at your side

She appeared on TV, she appeared on podcast, she appeared in interviews, she appeared in best selling author signing sessions, she appeared as a professor to teach young aspiring writers. She was everywhere. That was because the novel was everywhere, it was adatped into movies, TV shows, cartoon series, it has audiobooks and was references in a number of places

People loved your work. You were content with that. It was fine. As long as your friend is by your side. You can take it all. Yet you can’t help it when tears flow down your face in the dead of night. You hugged your pillow so tightly

It was all supposed to be yours, yet it wasn’t… You gave it all up to someone that’s not worthy of it

“See?” She threw a bunch of papers into the air from her side bag, with a snap of her fingers, the pages turned into paper daggers and flew around her at command. “If you can summon things, then you’re a such better fit! Please, come back with me to the V Tower and take my place.”

“Shut up.” You spoke, your hands unconsciously gripped onto Alastor’s wrist tightly that it could have snapped. Reacting to your obvious hatred, Alastor snapped his fingers and fires burn down the pages that she was so proud of. “Ha, I can’t believe you haven’t changed.”

She raised a brow, “What?”

You sighed, “Karolina, so you died, huh. Did you have a good life? Must be good as the famous author, right?”

Kat’s eyes widened, now it was her turn to back up, “No way… You can’t be serious…”

“Dearest, do you know her?” Alastor inquired with a cute head tilt, his ears moving along.

“Yeah, I know her.” You smiled, you know what will happen after your words because you know Alastor, “Meet Karoline, my former best friend while I was alive, but most importantly… The one that stole my precious writing.”

Note: Another one~ There's one more part to this and the involvement of Kat arc is done. I think I might end this series after that. The unanswered questions could be counted as trivia or extra mini moments. Cause I feel like this series is getting a bit too long. What do you guys think?

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist @cyannese-rose @type-ink

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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strlingsav · 1 year

Note

I’m simply in love with your portrayal of Simon/Ghost. This fandom has so many incredibly talented writers, I am glad I stumbled upon your work! Your interpretation of his character is among my favourites 🥰 if it interests you, I would like to request a comfort fic w a femme reader who is perhaps not active on the field herself, but more on the intelligence/IT side of the operations (you can totally change this if you want, it’s up for your interpretation!) who is capable but suffers from insecurity and imposters sydrome (yep I am totally projecting🤫🤐) and during a mental breakdown bc of the stress from work, Ghost of all people, who she previously has only seen during a few briefings and never has approached bc of his intimidating reputation, finds her. Cue to the stoic scary big man who has previously only stared her down turning out to be actually very supportive and appreciative of her work because he always has noticed her. It’s up to you if want to keep it sfw or not! But a dash of softdom/service top sprinkled w some praise kink wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world🥴 I would love to see your take on this if this idea interests you, and it’s totally fine if it doesn’t 🥰 it’s always a pleasure to read your work regardless! Have a good one! ✌🏻💕

Thank you very much!! I appreciate that very much 🥹🫶🏻 I can definitely do this!

Support

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Ghost stumbles upon you, after-hours, during a breakdown.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It was approaching two in the morning. You were running solely on caffeine and nicotine- neither of which were helping your dry eyes or headache. The light of your monitors was the only source in the room, completely enshrouded by darkness as you stared blankly at the screens. You'd hoped it would help you focus, think more clearly, but so far it had only isolated you further, brought nothing but pressure and stress.

It wasn't supposed to be difficult, it was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be easy for you. You'd studied computer technology and engineering for years- built and coded programs for organizations all over the world. You'd worked within the military for nearly a decade, providing the most proficient and reliable support among your similarly-rated peers. You were quite literally an expert, but you didn't feel like it. Not with the unfinished assignment sitting before you.

Laswell, Price, the entirety of 141- they relied on you. They relied heavily on your abilities to guide them through their fieldwork, to do the digging they couldn't reach while on location. Though, as you leaned back in your chair, your lip red and raw with irritation, your back aching, you didn't feel reliable. You felt the familiar sting of failure, of total disappointment.

It bubbled up in your throat, escaping in a series of curses, shoving yourself away from the desk before you wound up damaging thousands of dollars of equipment. You paced, stared, and paced. Your mind swimming with questions, re-thinking every sequence, every key, every exhaustive search you could possibly pull- and still hadn't decrypted the data.

Your hand slammed down on the desk, scattering the pens and piles of paperwork you'd accumulated over the many hours you'd spent stewing in front of the code screen. The cursor blinked at you- waiting, taunting you, filling you with dread.

"Y'alright in here?"

A gruff voice pulled you from your anxious stupor, and you yanked your hand from the desk, gasping sharply. You looked up, finding Ghost at the doorway.

In the dark, you could hardly make out his silhouette, but the outline of his mask was a stark contrast against the pitch-black room.

"Didn't mean t'scare you," He said, taking a few steps forward. "Heard somethin' in here."

You let out a sigh, your heartbeat relaxing back into its regular rhythm.

You'd heard his voice before, usually over the comms, and seen him during briefings, but you'd never spoken in person. You knew he had a reputation for being tough and commanding; it put you on edge watching his looming figure in the darkness. He was undeniably intimidating, especially as he stalked toward you.

You stepped back, letting him around the desk to see your monitors.

"You're up late," He said, examining the screen.

"Trying to decode this shit," You huffed, forgetting about his domineering presence once you refocused on your failure. "It's taking me longer than it should."

"Looks complicated," He replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly.

"It is. It shouldn't be, but it is," You sighed again, sitting down as he looked over your shoulder.

"How long you been at this?"

You ignored his question, leaning in to further examine the code screen.

"It's late. You should sleep, get back to it in the mornin'."

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder to find him closer than expected.

"I don't need sleep," You shook your head. "I need to figure this out. I'm close."

An epiphany sparked in your head- a brute force attack you hadn't yet tried. You quickly typed in the keys, waiting with baited breath as the screen paused.

A flickering script reading 'denied' came across your screen, typed out in front of you for confirmation. Validation that you'd failed, again.

"Fuck!" You shouted, cradling your head in your hands. "I-I can't figure this shit out, I can't do it." Your voice broke, hoarse with strain.

You looked up at him, your eyes now watery with frustration and anger.

"'Ey," He said, leaning forward. "Relax. I dunno much about this shite, but seems you're doin' alright."

You tilted your head. "Laswell needs these documents for Shepherd tomorrow, and I've got nothing to show for it. It'll be my ass getting dismissed. It's not alright."

"Shepherd can wait," He said. "You've saved our arses more than a few times."

"It's not enough."

"It's more than enough. Relax, you're givin' me a bloody headache."

"I can't relax," You looked up at him with blood-shot eyes.

"If anyone can do it, 't's you. Seen you handle worse than this." He gestured to the screen, a flippant motion.

You sucked in a deep breath, nodding slowly. You were more than shocked to hear the comforting words from Ghost. A man revered for his deadly hands, ferocity. The irony made you giggle, short and quiet, though he heard it.

"What's funny?" He asked, moving to lean against the desk.

"Just didn't expect you to be so supportive. Appreciative."

"I see what you do," His gaze was unwavering as he stared you down. "Couldn't do it m'self. Owe you my life, if not more."

"Not quite," You quirked up a brow.

"Yeah- quite. Raid in Las Almas, no other escape routes, Price called you in and we were on the way out in minutes."

You bit your cheek, nodding slowly, your eyes shutting as you digested his words. He was right- you'd done your fair share of evac and location support, never losing a soldier. Regardless of how horribly the assignment was going, you couldn't deny only you had the capacity to complete it.

"Thanks," You nodded, looking up at him. "I'm just in my head, stressed out."

He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter.

You leaned back, grabbing a cigarette from the nearly-empty pack on the desk, and lighting it up.

"You want one?" You asked, offering him the package.

He took one, offering a quiet, "Cheers."

He lifted the cover of his mask up above his nose- it took every ounce of strength not to immediately watch his lips as he stuck the cigarette between them. Even then, your eyes glanced at the newly-discovered flesh, diverting your gaze when he locked eyes with you.

You inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine coat your lungs, before exhaling into the monitors before you.

"Should get some sleep," He said, standing up.

"Yeah," You nodded, shifting to lean forward. "Yeah, I will. Just a bit longer."

He sighed, bringing his gloved hand down on the keyboard.

"I'll break it in half if I need to," He said, his voice low and threatening.

You swallowed, raising your brows at the unexpected reaction.

"Alright," You huffed.

You stood to your feet, putting your cigarette out on the ashtray beside your mouse. He did the same, arms folding over his chest as he waited for you to leave your station.

His adamant opposition to letting you continue was admirable. Attractive, even. You hadn't anticipated feeling grateful, or happy to have had him find you.

You'd kept your distance from him, though you'd always find your eyes gravitating toward his. He'd already be staring, watching you from across the briefing room. At first, you'd been terrified, wondering if you'd done something to piss him off, but nothing ever came of it. Instead, he'd lift his head to find you, check over his shoulder to look at you.

He found you intriguing, attractive. A brilliant woman; smart, educated, someone he was glad to have on his team. He'd seen the countless hours you put in, the calm tone of your voice every time there was a stress signal from one of the men. You held it together for them- the least he could do was the same for you.

He liked the way your eyes studied the screen, the way you'd chew your lip raw. Though it wasn't in your best interest, he found it alluring. His mind wandered when he'd see you, nothing appropriate at all- only to satisfy the heat that curled itself inside his intestines when he laid his eyes on you.

He remembered seeing you for the first time, wondering who you were: laptop on the desk, pen in hand, bright-eyed and eager to please. Immediately, he'd fabricated images of you in his mind- images that he'd play through during the lonely hours of the night.

"Why are you up?" You asked suddenly.

"Couldn't sleep. Don't sleep much."

You shook your head, "And yet, you're lecturing me." A small smile lifted your lips.

"For your own good," He answered.

"That's interesting," You mumbled.

"Why's that?"

You breathed in, "You've only ever stared me down, don't think we've had a conversation before."

"Y'can say a lot without talkin'," He retorted.

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted to fuck me or kill me," You grinned.

"What's the consensus?"

"Still not sure," You held back a grin.

"Would've killed you by now."

You laughed, "That's not very comforting."

"Should be. Only leaves the former."

He moved closer, standing up straight as he unhooked his legs.

You were pleasantly surprised, though your nerves had been roused from their short slumber. Heat washed over your cheeks, climbing up your spine before returning to the crest of your thighs.

"Think y'could use some stress relief," He said. "Y'seem pent-up."

You pulled your lip between your teeth, your eyes shifting between his. It was tempting, more than your mortal being could possibly resist.

"Maybe," You uttered, your hands twitching with anxiety as he neared you.

He cocked his head, "Maybe ain't an answer."

"Yes," You blurted. "I could. But not if you're taking pity on me."

He chuckled, a sound you'd never heard before from him, though it was somewhat deformed. Amusement and disbelief rather than enjoyment.

"Sweetheart," He cooed, his chest nearly pressed against yours. "It ain't pity. Y'should know better."

"We'll, you're not exactly approachable," You said, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "Haven't had the pleasure of speaking with you before."

He nodded, "S'alright," He said. "Had enough o' watchin' from afar, though."

You breathed out, long and cathartic as it passed your lips. Releasing every worry and anxiety, relieved to be able to focus solely on him- on Ghost.

His hand reached your waist, softly pulling you into him, finally connecting your bodies. You let out a quiet grunt, your hands raised at your sides as you took in the feeling of his body against yours.

"Y'can touch me," He grinned. "I won't bite 'less you ask."

As if you weren't already aroused, soaking your panties, he only made it worse. The heat of his hands on your waist had drawn out any thoughts in your head, his voice so close- so clear in front of you was mesmerizing.

You apprehensively moved your hands to rest on his shoulders, your palms gliding against the taught muscles, another extended sigh as you tried to ignore the burning in your gut. He liked the contact, your small hands searing a brand into his skin.

He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes raking over your face, the face he'd seen in his dreams more than anywhere else. He must've made a pact with the devil, something sacrificed to have you in his hands- finally.

He leaned in, soft lips touching yours. It was fleeting, the softness, before he backed you against the desk with no regard for the equipment on it. Still, his lips held your attention, his tongue gliding between your lips to clash against yours. It was open-mouthed, messy, especially as he lifted you to the desk and bullied himself between your thighs.

You moaned faintly when his hand slid down your side, taking a handful of your ass and squeezing harshly. His other hand worked your shirt off your torso, parting only for a moment when the fabric passed your neck. His hands on your bare skin created a feeling of tightness in your gut- especially as he squeezed and grabbed at you, truly appreciating the curves of your body against him.

To your chagrin, he was still fully clothed, in his fatigues, like he lived in them. Even at two A.M., the man never quit. You weren't complaining; you rather liked the sight of his fitted uniform, especially as it squeezed his forearms and thighs, showing the bulk of muscle and veins beneath tattooed skin.

You were antsy, however, to feel him. All of him, against you.

"Take it off," You whispered against his lips, tugging at his jacket with clenched fists.

"Bossy woman you are," He teased, pulling away as he unbuttoned the shirt.

"I know what I want," You shot back, your eyes now narrowed in on him.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. "That so?"

You nodded, smug and prideful, a sense of power- you had complete control. Your hands supported your weight behind you, leaning back, watching the show as he stripped from the shirt. It fell off his torso, revealing the toned muscles beneath, and he yanked the other sleeve off with impatience.

Your jaw was slack, looking over him as he neared again. This time, his hand slid up your throat, gripping the delicate area with a firm hold. He forced your eyes to meet his, a noticeable grin on his lips.

"You listen to me, sweetheart," He said, in your face. "And I'll take care o'you. Spread your legs."

You shivered, an audible gasp leaving your lips. The things you'd have done to hear filthy words leave his mouth- the voice that rung in your ears at night, made your pussy flutter. Now, he'd offered his services to you, rather enthusiastically, too, admitting he'd wanted it for a long time. If nothing else made you feel better about your shit progress, he surely could.

He kept eye contact while his hand worked open your pants, pulling them and your panties down your legs with speed and precision. He wasted no time pressing your thighs to your chest, tucking you into an uncomfortable position before kneeling in front of you.

"No thinkin'," He warned. "'Less it's about cummin' on my face."

Your head fell back, groaning softly, lifting back up again only when he pressed his lips to your pussy. Then, you watched with anticipation building in your gut, trembling in your limbs and a heavy ache settling in your womb.

He slid a warm tongue between your folds, a gentle touch you hadn't expected from the brute of a man. He watched you the entire time, took in the sight of your lips parting, sucking in a long breath, shutting your eyes as you basked in the pleasure. He couldn't help but form a grin, his lips engulfing your pussy in an open-mouthed kiss.

His attention moved to your clit, faint licks crossing the sensitive area that coaxed quick jolts from your body. He settled into a rhythm, and your body adjusted accordingly, leaning into the new and overwhelming feeling.

"Yeah, right there," You said, a hushed tone, like you were speaking to yourself.

He grunted in response, another warning.

"Sorry," You said again. "Feels so good." It was a quiet whine.

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, grab at something, anything that would connect you to him, so you settled for his forearms. Your palm gripped the flesh of his arm, squeezing, just as he did to your thighs.

His tongue expertly traced your clit, circles and delicate licks that made your back arch, opening yourself up for him to taste.

"That's it," He uttered, muffled by your pussy. Even speaking against you made you clench, stare down at him with lust on your face. "There's a good girl."

You exhaled, nodding in agreement, submission to his mouth as he returned to his rhythm, falling in tandem with the heavy breathing leaving your chest. His eyes hadn't left you, watching and studying your expression for every hint of pleasure. He was intent on learning exactly what you like, though it was difficult to discern through the flurry of expressions on your face.

Your brows drawn together, jaw open as you choked down a gasp, breathing heavily into the dark room. He could make out your face, but your silhouette was blackened against the light of the monitors. He could see the swell of your breasts, your thighs, the curve of your waist against the backlight. He could even see your eyes, when you'd drop your head to watch him devour you.

You began to shake, tensing against his mouth when he continued at a consistent pace. He was thorough in every aspect of life- this was no exception. He didn't let up, even when your pussy drooled with cum, instead, he licked it up with his tongue, moaning softly against you at your taste.

He stood to his feet, unbuckling his belt as he stared at you. Your chest heaved, toes curled, leaning back as you watched him. The light danced on his abdomen, highlighting every hill and dip on his torso, the scars that scattered the skin. It was a sight that had your brain resetting, recovering as though you hadn't been covered in a layer of sweat and left breathless from your orgasm.

His cock stood erect when he yanked his trousers down, and he didn't stall any longer. He stalked forward, leaning into you, his hand on the desk behind you as he pushed his cock through the tight barrier of your hymen. He was absorbed, swallowed by soft inner-muscles and velvety walls, slick with your cum and arousal.

He pressed his lips to yours again, not allowing for much deliberation or accommodation- he was far too aroused to wait. You planted your heels against the desk as he thrusted his entire length into you, quickly meeting your cervix with a gentle graze. It made you suck in a sharp breath, and move away from his lips.

You saw his eyes, the look of possession and pure lust in them. You merely stared at each other, a nauseating intimacy while he thrusted inside you, further disturbing your lower stomach with a tightness.

"Oh God," You choked, your hands reaching around his shoulders, clinging to him. "Don't stop- don't fucking stop."

His hand reached around you, holding you against him, the other gripping your thigh with a bruising constraint.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, sweetheart," He breathed in your ear. "You all wet for me?"

You nodded, breathing an enthusiastic yes into his ear, clenching at his back with your fingers. Your nails dug into the slick flesh, feeling his muscles move as his hips tilted back and forth into you.

All you could smell, hear was him. The scent of his heavy body soap, like pine, mixed with the cigarette you'd offered him earlier. His breathing in your ear, heavy pants as he relished in the tightness of you- the slippery walls encroaching on his cock.

"Such a good fuckin' girl," He mumbled against your neck, his lips dragging against your skin. "Say you're a good girl," His voice rumbled through his chest. "Fuck me- all for me."

It was haze-inducing, incoherent mumbles, quiet gasps and sobs as you clung to him. It worsened when his fingers played your clit, sliding between your bodies to rub over the sensitive spot.

"I'm a good girl," You gasped. "I'm your good girl."

"'At's right, sweetheart- takin' me nice and deep."

It didn't take long to clench around his cock, another wave of nauseating pleasure that rendered you absolutely useless as he drove into you.

"Fuckin' hell," He stuttered.

You'd constricted his cock, pulsating around him with every contraction, nearly sobbing into his shoulder when he continued with his thrusts.

He finally pulled out, tugging on his cock as he released his cum over your stomach. He exhaled sharply, before gathering his composure.

You grimaced as you stood to your feet, trying to clean yourself off as best you could.

You watched him shrug his jacket back on.

"Get some rest," He nodded once, gesturing to the doorway. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

"Is 'check on me' an innuendo? Should I wear my good underwear?" You grinned, pulling your pants back over your backside.

"I'd shag you if y'had on a bin bag, sweetheart."

"You're sweeter than you let on," You teased, laughing.

"Not for most," He cocked his head. "Guess you're lucky."

"Well, thank you," You smiled.

It was genuine. A distraction, however unexpected and unusual, that did make you almost forget about the assignment.

"I'll be around," He paused. "If you're feelin' like takin' your frustrations out."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

He walked off with a short nod. You paused for a moment; the temptation to curl yourself up at your desk and continue your assignment was gnawing at you. You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath in when you recalled Ghost's words, and finally decided to turn off the monitors.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you

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venus-haze · 1 year

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My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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barbieaemond · 5 months

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Intrusion (part I)

moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: (modern) Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!reader

WARNINGS: angst, Aemond has no filter, drug use (very brief), mentions of overdose, suggestive themes, sexual tension (sadly nothing more but part II will be a helluva ride)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sothoryos is a large continent in Martin’s universe. It is located below Essos.

WORD COUNT: 7k

Song for this fic:

taglist: @zae5 @chompchompluke @multyfangirl

“What’s up with the green light?”

Jason's voice came distantly, even though he was sitting right next to her. She looked up through her long eyelashes, scanning the mighty, green-lit Hightower from top to bottom, an emerald glow kissed her face.

“How dumb are you? It was a beacon once.” She said mindlessly, dragging her eyes away from the car window to watch her brother crouched on a little mirror with three lines of white powder on it.

“D’you want some?”

“I’m done with that shit.”

“I should hope so.” He chuckled, rolling a banknote between his fingers with the expertise of a magician ready to do his trick. “Dad is still paying the hospital to keep their mouth shut. Not to mention the papers…”

She heard him snort the substance, humming with delight as it reached his brain. She looked at him for a moment, green just like the glowing light on her face. It was so easy for Jason to surrender to the void. She struggled to do even that.

“Speaking of which” he said wiping his nose “he could’ve bothered to come.”

“And watch Otto Hightower gloat in his face? Dad would rather throw checks to the homeless.”

“Why are we here then?” he asked as the car stopped in front of the huge, tall building, the tallest in all the continent.

“Because he wants to remind everyone we are still the wealthiest in this wretched world.” She said she grabbed her little purse and got out of the fancy car as soon as the driver opened her door.

Blinding lights fell on her as photographers took note that the Lannister family had sent its scions to attend the annual Gala held by the Hightowers. A party that had always been held in the capital in the previous years, at least until what the newspapers had called the divorce of the century.

“I would not be so sure about that.” Jason said, squinting his eyes in front of the ruthless flashes. “Papers say Viserys is going to pay a fortune, for alimony and all that shit.”

“Miss Lannister! Here, please! On your right!”

She built a broad smile for the photographers, maneuvering her hair to let it slide down her shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. A well-thought-out act, repeated incessantly for as long as she could remember. A beautiful machine doll bathed in gold and diamonds.

“Do you still read papers?” she asked, not breaking her plastic smile.

“How else should I find out if I've done something illegal?”

“They’re a reliable source on that, less on others. They claim I had a thing with Cregan Stark when even walls know he’s gay.”

They claimed many other things. But she never confirmed or denied the rumors, because it was all part of the plan.

Any rumor of an alleged flirt or talk of an engagement with a scion from one of the old power families of the country only increased the height of the pedestal on which her father and mother had placed her. So that when rumors died, the vultures would come even more savage, raising the stakes to win the most coveted prize in their circle of starched shirts and centuries-old privileges that no longer had any value except in the small, greedy world inside their small, greedy heads.

She moved, swiftly but graciously, and stepped inside the building, followed by her brother and his giggles, and the photographers screaming at the top of their lungs, begging for another picture—just one more. The begging had started already.

The Hall of the Hightower Palace was a sight to behold. Adorned with green and dark tones, crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings and yellow cocktail music pushing all the fine-dressed people to chat and laugh more loudly as if they unconsciously tried to imitate the lively ups and downs of the notes.

The Lannisters lingered on the entrance, immediately catching many pairs of eyes, greedy and green as the decorations around them.

“Are they waiting for us to go greet them?” Jason asked, watching the Hightowers at the center of the Hall. “Gods, why do they always act as if they were royals and us merely subjects?”

"Apparently, it has been proven they have hints of blue in their blood.”

“Who’s the blondie?” he asked, taking his sister’s arm as they walked towards the hosts.

“Helaena Targaryen.”

“Oh! The freak?”

“She’s not a freak. She’s a renowned entomologist.”

“And my point stands.”

Miss Lannister knew all the four Hightowers waiting to be greeted. After all, who didn't?

Otto Hightower was the most influential man in the country, although he liked to hide and pull his strings behind the curtains. They said that family and strangers made no difference to him. His daughter Alicent would agree with a stiff lip.

She wore the most lavish dress of all, but that was not what caught the eye, but rather the determination in her gaze and the way she stood. A woman free from the chains of a marriage she had never wanted.

“It is a pleasure to have both of you here.” She said smiling at the two Lannisters. Her father Otto was towering just behind her, a curious look on his face as his eyes rapidly scanned Miss Lannister.

In fact, he stepped in, saying “Indeed, Alicent. Especially Miss Lannister. I’m relieved to see you well.”

After what happened in Pyke, was the part he deliberately omitted.

The young woman looked at him, unfazed, building another one of her plastic smiles and then directed her attention to the youngest son of Alicent and Viserys Targaryen. Daeron.

The boy was no more than twenty, but he had a way of standing and carrying himself, which gave him at least five more years. That was the price of being doomed to inherit a heavy family name and all within it. The young Lannister girl understood it all too well.

As for Helaena, she seemed the most out-of-place creature, like watching a dolphin swim along sharks. The Lannister girl didn’t know her that much; truthfully no one did. Helaena was always far away from the country for her studies, traveling to the edge of the world to discover wild and rare creatures. She had a way of avoiding eye contact, Miss Lannister noticed, if not for brief and furtive glances, as if she was afraid that if she looked too much, she would see too much.

“And you don’t call that a freak?” Jason asked once they moved away from the Hightowers.

“You are just sour because she barely looked at you.” his sister answered, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hey. I’m nice to look at!” he said gesturing to his figure.

“You tell yourself that.” she sipped her bubbly like water, barely tasting it, as her eyes roamed around the lavish hall, watching the same old play unfold, with the same old puppets. And she was one of them, perhaps the main star, ready to follow the script and never stray from it. It was her purpose in life. A well-trained parrot with a melodic laugh and the stillness of a porcelain doll.

She looked around and saw the eagerness, the anticipation as they bided their time before flocking to her, begging for flesh and money and power, each one of them so eager to sell one piece of themselves to be on a golden plate, the very same on which everything was always freely given to her. Things, places, people. The Golden Girl, they called her. She was born in it, she reflected it. She never had to ask, she never had to beg for anything. While everyone around her seemed to be able to do nothing else.

"Miss Lannister, we would love to have you as our guest in High Garden. Please, consider our invitation."

"Miss Lannister, did your father receive the gift I sent him last week? Please, have him contact me as soon as possible, I have another proposal for a collaboration."

"Miss Lannister, please, convince your father not to cut off the funds, I wouldn't know what to do without the invaluable support of your bank.”

“Miss Lannister, please—"

Please. Please. Please. Please.

They all came muffled, the beggars and their begging, as if speaking from the surface while she was deep down underwater, floating. Then the puppet would take over, moving haughtily and mischievously, promising lies with empty smiles and stolen words. The same old power play, to tell the world the Lannisters were far above it.

But amid the muffled chatter and greedy eyes, there was one in particular, stripped of all reverence, blue and cold as the eye of the scientist dissecting something under a microscope.

He had placed her under the lens out of pure boredom.

He never attended these kinds of gatherings, at least not after Sothoryos, not after Floris. He was there only because his mother had insisted, almost pleaded with him. This was the first public event after the divorce. It was essential to appear close, united.

The word tasted rotten in Aemond's mouth.

He had made sure Aegon would not attend, and had come in through the back, creeping into the hall like a spectre.

Alicent had seen him at once, her eyes widening with surprise as if she were certain he would not come. And they had barely talked.

She had kissed him on the cheeks with that look in her eyes, the one that rose tenderness and contempt at once inside him, twin flames mirroring and dancing around each other. His mother's lips opened and closed repeatedly, like a record needle cutting the same groove on and on without making a sound. And he had no desire to fix that.

Once, maybe. He had nurtured so many unspoken words that they had ended up souring and festering the more he held them back, locked in a dark corner where no light filtered. So, his mouth stayed sealed and silent, like a tomb.

He had withdrawn to a corner of the hall, watching as the people lingered with their gazes on his dead eye, half curious, half scared. Something he was all too used to. He found himself cursing under his breath for wasting time in such a vapid and useless way. He could have been at home, studying, or working in the basement.

But then he had spotted her.

It was hard not to.

The moment she had entered the hall with her brother, it seemed she had drawn all attention to herself, absorbing all the light from the chandeliers. It seemed that her golden dress was truly made of gold.

Aemond had seen her once or twice in the past and each time, two distinct thoughts had rapidly crossed his mind.

First: that she was a pretty doll with more money in her pocket than cells in her brain.

Second: that he wouldn't mind taking her doll's clothes off.

No man with sense would have denied her beauty, but the more he looked at her, the more he saw how dry she was, how cold, like a sculpture doomed to live the same moment forever.

It was all scene, all pose. And Aemond understood it at once since he himself had enacted the same play in the years past. He knew what it meant to be an inanimate thing waiting to be moved by others, for duty or loyalty. Things that had lost all meaning to him once he’d found out that the more he latched on these things, the more hollow he felt.

He watched the Lannister girl build fake smiles at each turn and he found himself grimacing, feeling pity for her, almost contempt. Perhaps she was just a tool, an extension of his former self for him to loathe, like spitting into a mirror.

But he just couldn’t stop watching.

She had a way of making the place where she stood like some kind of holy shrine and everyone around her kept scrambling to fall at her feet. She had a way of moving, slowly, like a creature living underwater. She would lean forward as she listened to people, only to retreat when it was her turn to speak, and she did it quietly, making the privileged speaker unconsciously lean towards her.

A tactic—a working tactic, though. Because Aemond had found himself craning his neck forward more than he would’ve liked to admit, and he wasn't even close to her.

“Choosing your next victim?”

He turned on his blind side as Helaena stopped beside him, handing a flute of champagne.

“Hāedar.” he said, taking the glass “Don’t say that. With all the shit they say about me, tomorrow they might title I’m a serial killer.”

“Well, you do have a dank basement in your place. And with the way you keep looking at the Lannister girl, it would be hard to beat the allegations.”

He looked down at the sizzling bubbles and curled his lips. Helaena did the same as her blue eyes scanned his face. Of all her brothers, she had always had the closest bond with Aemond. Born only one year apart, they had grown up as close as twins. Helaena did not look down when she talked to Aemond; she did not stutter or struggle to voice her thoughts as she did with anyone else. And his lips, which struggled so much to voice his emotions, always curled up in the most spontaneous way when they spent time together.

“You won’t get away with a smile, though.” She pointed out after a sip of bubbly “You barely talked to me earlier.”

“I was afraid our mother would stir up a hornet’s nest seeing me here.”

“She was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“I shouldn’t have. This place smells of coffin.”

She watched him for a moment, trying to guess his mood and, therefore, whether it was a good time to speak. “Did you get my message last week?”

His eye remained fixed on the elated crowd, but Helaena didn’t miss the slight twitch in his lips. “I did.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“What was there to say?”

“Aemond, I know you have your grudges, but... he’s our father and he’s severely ill. He wants to see us, all of us, at Summerhall, next month. I want to believe he’s changing and—”

“Must I remind you what happened the last time we had a family heart to heart?”

She did nothing but cast a single, saddened glance to his dead eye and all her willingness to talk and try to make things better withered like a leaf in a frosted land.

“He’s changing because he already has one foot in the grave. Quit the fancy words, Hel, he’s not changing. He’s just trying to relieve his conscience. A bit late for that, no?” and he downed his champagne in one gulp.

“Aem—”

“I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t care.” He said, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket and placing one cigarette between his lips. He glanced one last time at his sister and with the coldest distance he said “But do let me know when he dies. I'll toast to that.”

She had had three flutes of champagne while talking to a countless number of faceless beggars when she started to feel nauseated. She didn’t even know by what, whether it was the champagne, the people, or herself. Perhaps all of them.

The cold night air embraced her as she went out on the terrace, making the hairs on her arms stand and her half-covered spine shiver. She had not brought her coat with her, but she did not mind. The cold awoke her from her torpor, made her stop being a relic on a mantelpiece.

She slipped a cigarette between her lips and looked into her purse for the lighter. "No, no, no—" she said to no one, frantically feeling every nook and cranny of the purse. "Fuck!"

"Here."

She jumped, turning her head just in time to see a lighter flying towards her. She caught it, staring at the dark corner on her left. There was a man sitting there, wrapped by the shadows, except for a thin white hand laying on the table, long fingers, and half a cigarette resting between index and middle.

She squinted, trying to get a better look. “I can’t see you.”

“I do.”

It was just a simple statement, but his tone was strange, riddled with an edge of shrewdness.

She stared at the dark figure for a moment longer, then lit her cigarette and walked a few steps closer.

"I would like to know who I'm speaking to, stranger." She said, handing over the lighter.

A moment later the shadow stood up, and she had to lift her chin as she watched the glow of the lamps unraveling his face, sharp like a knife. The air hitched in her throat, her gaze inevitably caught by the blue of his eye, as well as the dead blue of the prosthetic. "Oh."

His arched mouth bent upwards. "Define your oh."

“It’s just a oh, you’re not a stranger after all.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, curiously tilting his head with a ghosting grin “What do you think you know about me? Aside from what you read on gossip papers.”

“I don’t read gossip papers.”

“Yes, you do. All the girls like you do that.”

“All the girls like me?”

“Dolls with a trust fund to squander before forty.”

She raised her eyebrows, quickly scanning the young man before her. He was clad in black, with a black turtleneck and a leather jacket, accentuating his sharp features and pale face framed by short hair, a bit curly but neatly styled. “You’re the one to talk, Mr. I have blue blood in my veins.”

“I don’t work for my family.” He said matter-of-factly “They don’t pay my rent and they don’t cover up my shit.”

“Mine neither.”

His eyebrow raising was enough to dismantle her lie right away. “Papers say otherwise.”

“Do you trust papers and their cheap rumors?”

“Hmm. Trust is a strong word. But true or false, rumors are often more revealing than facts.” he took a long drag on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes and she watched as the dead one remained unnaturally still. It was not disturbing, she thought. It gave him a sinister allure, catching her off guard.

“Then I should believe all the rumors about you and your...charming mystery.”

“They say I’m charming now?” he asked with a smirk.

“I believe they called you a sphinx” she deadpanned “before claiming you hit a journalist, a woman.”

“And which one do you think is more likely?”

She looked at him uncertainly. Well, he was charming. But he was a lot more mysterious. More than a sphinx, Aemond Targaryen was a living riddle.

Even before the accident in Sothoryos, from where he returned with an eye missing, the second-born son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower was a foggy figure, often in the shadows, more than often in the shadows of someone else, his half-sister Rhaenyra, his older brother Aegon. And after Sothoryos, he seemed to have grown his own shadows, distancing himself from his family and dropping his academic career to do Gods-know-what in a small flat in the oldest quarter of Oldtown.

“Both?” she dared.

He clicked his tongue, looking away with disappointment, and flicked the cigarette. “Too easy. And now you’re boring me.”

“I shall take my leave, then.” she chirped with a tight smile.

“Don’t expect me to follow you. I am not one of those wankers inside who come in their pants as you bat your fake eyelashes.”

The smile left her face instantly, and she glared at him, throwing her half-cigarette on the ground. “It is true, then. Royals do act like the rudest jerks.”

Instead of looking offended, her words seemed to do nothing but tickle his pride—some kind of gratification that poured like poison from the angles of his mouth. “I don’t act. But if I wanted to, I'd know who to turn to.”

“Meaning?”

“And you keep boring me.” his eye went momentarily below her neck, and he tilted his chin “Are those pretty diamonds slowing blood to your brain?”

Miss Lannister looked stunned. No one, ever, dared to talk to her like that.

She was used to being praised and begged and praised. A beautiful portrait framed by gold and hung on a wall for all to see. She should have been outraged, she should have used her last name as shield and threat. But for once, she was breathing on her own, free of any strings.

“Are they real?” he asked suddenly, and she stilled as his hand ghosted on her necklace, feeling his cold fingertips hovering above her skin.

“Of course they are.”

“Hmm.” He mused, pulling his hand back as he continued to stare at the necklace and then down at her dress. “They serve their purpose I’d say.” he said dragging his eye back to her face.

“Slowing my brain?” she asked with a little vitriolic smile.

“Hiding all the fake beneath them.”

“Who are you, a fortune teller?” she spitefully asked. “Do you possess the Third Eye as well as the Fake One?”

“One eye is enough to see right through you, golden girl.”

“And why were you watching me if I am so blatantly obvious?”

He almost shrugged his shoulders. “These parties are dreadfully boring. I was in need of a distraction, and you were hard to miss.”

“I could say the same about you.” Her gaze flicked for an instant to his dead eye. “Except that I don’t hide in dark corners from my own family.”

Whether he was stung by her words or not, his composure remained utterly impassive. A sphinx through and through.

“No. You do it before them.” An amused smile, spiced up with poison, curled his lips. “At least I have the dignity to disappear instead of begging for attention like a pathetic creature.”

Her words did not sting, but his surely did. And they shouldn’t.

They had crossed paths once or twice in the years prior, but effectively, Aemond was but a stranger to her. She wasn’t even aware of him watching her inside the hall, maybe too absorbed in her puppet play, or maybe resigned to scream into a crowded room of deaf mannequins.

She swallowed heavily, not dropping her gaze, waiting for all the gold to shield her, hide her, serving its purpose once more. But Aemond had a strange look in his eye. He was staring at her, and what he saw thrilled him.

He was sure he would see harshness, contempt, but not that. Not…anguish. It was buried in her pretty eyes and yet it just lied there in full sight, the darker shade of abyss beneath the crystalline blue of the deceiving surface.

If only someone had bothered to look.

“You remind me of someone.” he said almost mindlessly.

“Do I dare asking or do you wish to offend me some more?”

He seemed to ponder for a while, looking at her as if he were measuring an opponent.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

He moved, leaving the terrace without waiting for her, sure enough she would follow him. And she did.

Not immediately, though. She stared at his tall figure as he went back inside and thought she should go back to the party, go back to the script. There was something uncanny, almost eerie about staying close to him, like walking on the thin thread of a cobweb while being dreadfully aware to be walking towards the spider’s bite.

But the dread made her feel alive, made her heart pounding in her throat. So, she followed him.

“I didn’t know your family had it.” She said with a tinge of amazement as they stopped before the painting gloriously exhibited along one of the lavish corridors upstairs. “I thought it got lost during some war.”

“It was.” He said, stopping beside her, eye roaming on the canvas.

“Did I remind you of a lost anonymous painting?”

“You reminded me of the Maiden.” And his eye flicked to the left of the painting. Then he dragged his gaze on her, turning his head, and watched her. “Do you know the story?”

“The myth?”

“You don’t believe it to be true?”

“I don’t believe in Gods. Or myths.”

“That is strange, coming from a girl who spent so much time building her own.”

She turned her head and looked at him. He was smiling subtly, but it was different this time. There was no poison dripping from the angles of his mouth, but the clearest intrigue.

It stopped her heart for a moment. A sudden cut in the canvas, a crack in the porcelain. And she felt that this stranger was peeking inside, or perhaps she was.

Aemond looked back at the painting and laced his arms behind his back, making the leather of his jacket creak. “They said once there was a land inhabited only by Gods and Monsters. The Maiden was the most beautiful Goddess in the Holy Garden. She grew flowers from her hands, trailing behind her as she walked. But she was unhappy. The Gods only sought her for her gift, used her as a piece of ornament. She was beautiful on the outside, but inside—”

“Lonely and hollow.” she filled in.

“Just like the Stranger.” he said, and they turned at the same time, locking their eyes.

Aemond glanced back at the ominous figure in the painting and said “He was not allowed to enter the Gods world. He lived underground, blowing his mortal winds to call the souls into his realm of death. But then he saw her. He dried her tears through his wind until one day—”

“He took her.” she filled in once more. “He used the wind to tie her hands with the flowery branches she grew and kidnapped her from the Holy Garden.”

“Are you sure kidnapped is the right word?”

“According to the myth? Yes. You might have been a great scholar, but I’m not a goat.”

He chuckled quietly, and the sound made her turn again to watch him.

He held her gaze as amusement left his marbled features, and without taking his eye off her, he tilted his chin towards the painting “Look at her. Look at her face and tell me what you see."

She did so, observing the anguish, the dark trepidation on the Maiden’s face.

“She is frightened.”

“Is she?” he asked, and suddenly he was almost behind her. His breath tickled her ear like the wind on a hot summer day, and her breath hitched once more. “Look into her eyes.” he whispered on her nape “Is it fear to be taken…or desire?”

She swallowed, keeping her eyes fixed on the painting, and dug her nails into the expensive fabric of her little purse. “Art is not math.” she said with confidence “There is not one undisputable interpretation.” And she turned to face him “So unless you painted that, and I have some doubts, you say she’s keen on being taken. I say she’s frightened.”

Aemond stared at her for a moment with a strange new look on his face, as if someone had just issued a challenge to him. His blue eye was wide, and the little smirk was peeking through his lips. “Do you ever choose a position, golden girl?”

“I think I just did.”

“Allow me to rephrase, then. A less boring position.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he was faster. “Let me show you something a little less ambiguous.”

"Wow, these are beautiful," she said as they climbed the stairs to the floor above the one where the glorious anonymous painting stood. On the angled wall, a series of photographs were exhibited—portraits, precisely—all in black and white.

"Are we complimenting each other now?" he asked, halting on a step.

She looked at him doubtfully for a moment before slightly widening her eyes. "What, these are yours?"

He gave her a simple nod, and she looked back at the portraits.

"My mother put them here. Her way to prove she cares, I guess." He said absent-mindedly, as if conversing about the weather.

The Lannister girl watched him closely, in search of something that would betray such a cold statement, but there were no cracks, no cuts.

"The great mystery unraveled.” She said forcing a dramatic tone “Aemond Targaryen is a photographer."

"I am not. I don’t do it for a living.”

“Yes, because you don’t need a job to get by.”

“Look who’s talking.”

She glared at him, trying with poor success to stifle a smile.

“It's just an interest." He stated.

"A passion." she dared to suggest.

"I wouldn't call it that. Passion preludes emotion, ardor. Photography is nothing like."

She watched him fold his arms behind his back in a peculiar way, grabbing his forearms with his hands. He had done the same thing earlier, in front of the painting. The gesture caught her attention then, as it did now.

"What is it then?" she asked, trailing her eyes back to his face.

He stared at her for an impossible long time before answering. “Revelation.”

She looked back at the portraits and observed them thoroughly. There were some men caught behind the camera, but the majority were all women. Young and beautiful women.

The portraits were majestic, she considered. He had found a way to toy with light which made these people look like glimpses from an otherworldly dimension, flashes of dreams.

No, not dreams, she thought.

The light was cruel, exposing, cutting. And all the subjects seemed to have been caught in a moment of great distress, flowing almost into a grotesque despair.

Flashes of nightmares.

The sight made her lips part, her skin shiver with eeriness and something else, something she could not name. The same basic instinct that had pushed her to follow him. These people, made eternal by black and white, were dressed, but their souls utterly naked before the eye.

“I wouldn’t call it revelation…”

“And what would you call it?” he asked, stepping beside her to watch the portrait, not missing her little startle when his elbow brushed against hers.

She took a deep, silent breath and turned her head to look at him. "Intrusion.”

“Hmm.” He mused, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket “Intrusion of which kind?”

He placed the cigarette between his lips only to see her hand snatching it away, but slowly, just like she was used to move, so much that her fingertip brushed his upper lip. “Any kind.” she answered and his eye fell on her rosy lips closing around the filter.

His mouth twitched, as if her light brushing had lit his skin aflame, and he moved unconsciously, bringing the lighter close but pausing, his thumb lingering on the little wheel, and he looked at her, just as she looked at him.

When he pushed his finger to light the flame, the short metallic sound came through with a strange finality, a curtain dropping after the first act.

She lit the cigarette and took a long drag, glancing at the portraits and then back at him. “Did you fuck these women?”

“No.” was all he said, hiding a little smirk as he slipped another smoke between his lips. He saw her raising her eyebrows with clear disbelief, so he clarified. “Not all of them.”

“I bet they revealed themselves thoroughly.”

“They were more than keen to do it.”

“And did you?” she countered, tilting her head, lowering her voice so that once again, he found himself leaning towards her, like a moth to a flame. “Did you reveal yourself as well? Did you let them intrude?”

“Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.”

She clicked her tongue and laughed—the very first genuine laugh she could conjure up in the span of hours, or even days. “Now you’re just trying to impress me.”

“Yes. And unfortunately for you, it is working.”

She gave him a bemused look at his brazen statement, but she felt strangely exposed under his unblinking stare, a hand ending her ceaseless floating to anchor her against the seabed.

“I want you to come to my place," he said suddenly, his voice kept quiet, almost soft, to the verge of whispering. It wrapped her senses like a soothing lullaby.

“I want to take your picture.”

“Why? To end up on this wall and in your bed like dozens of girls before me?”

“Dozens?” he raised an eyebrow “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

“Hmm” he crooned, cocking his head to one side, a contented expression stretching on his face, much like a cat licking its whiskers. “Envy doesn’t suit a Lannister.”

“Envy?” she repeated, laughing scornfully. “You’re an arrogant brat, has anyone ever told you?”

“Many in fact. So, shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Pity, I thought you had stopped boring me.” He said pocketing his lighter “Stay here playing the doll with those old fogeys, if you like. I’m leaving.”

She had only time to blink and he was gone, leaving her on those steps with the foreign, unsettling longing to follow. Her feet moved on their own, dragging her back to the party with an urgency shaking her bones, pushing her eyes to dart in every corner of the hall, moving amongst the people as if chasing the wind.

“Oh, there you are!” Jason pulled her to him, and she stilled, as she was used to, but everything inside her kept moving. “That Lonmouth smartass came at me screaming like a chicken.” Jason said with cocaine pupils, slurring words after words “as if it’s Dad’s fault that he’s an idiot. Put him in his place, would you? I’m too high, I might stick a fork between his eyes. D’you you want to hear something funny?”

“No, Jason. I don’t.” she replied absently, looking around once more “Listen, did you see Aemond Targaryen?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She said, wriggling herself from his hold, but he was fast to pull her back “Sis, why are you looking for that creep?”

“Let me go, Jason.”

“Listen to me. First the shit show in Pyke and now Aemond One Eye? Dad would not be happy to know you are—”

“Dad would not be happy to know fucking anything that he has not concocted and told us to do. And I’m tired of it, Jason.” She hastily broke free from his grip, alerting the well-dressed people around them, but she ignored them altogether. “Just this once, you’ll have to play the puppet. I’m done for tonight.” she tugged the pocket square from his jacket and threw it at him. “And wipe your nose, for Gods’ sake. There’s coke on it.”

She wandered inside the huge hall like walking through quicksand, sinking a little more any time another man or woman stopped her to chit chat, to ask her about her father and the bank and the next slot in her father's agenda.

As if she had any clue. As if her father had not dismissed any of her natural vocations like wrong bills to be fed to the shredder only to make her study economics, only to frame her degree, and then instruct her himself to specialize in the sacred act of parading herself around like a rare stuffed creature.

“Here you are.” A hand slipped around her waist, and she found herself enveloped by two familiar hands. “I’ve looked for you anywhere.”

“Quentin.” She said, looking into the dark glinting eyes of Quentin Martell, slightly wrinkling her nose for the heavy male perfume in which he had apparently dunked his suit.

His eyes scanned her slowly, looking like he wanted to peel her dress off like an orange. “Always outshining anyone else, are you?”

She looked away, stifling an exasperated sigh, all too used to Quentin’s redundant flatteries.

“This party is dead, isn’t it? And rather self-celebratory from the Hightowers. As if they don’t owe their current position to Viserys Targaryen.”

She glanced at him and saw her father talking. It was one of his favorite refrains at breakfast, lunch or dinner. It made no difference to him. Any time was a good time to incense themselves as the best, the wealthiest, the proudest, and hundreds of more superlatives that made the food instantly go rancid in her mouth.

Distractedly, her eyes roamed around, numbing her ears while Quentin kept talking. It was then that she saw him. He had not left.

Holding a glass of some liquor, he seemed to be in deep conversation, or rather on the receiving end of a soliloquy from his grandfather, who was leaning slightly over him, almost talking to his ear.

His eye was absently buried to the floor, one long finger tapped against the glass. A couple of words she could not make from that distance slipped from his mouth, resigned as his whole demeanor.

She thought she was looking into a mirror.

“Honey, are you listening to me?” Quentin asked at some point, tightening the hold on her waist. “Who are you looking at so rapt?”

“No one.” she hurried to say. But Quentin was quicker to follow her gaze before she dropped it. “Aemond One Eye?” he said on the verge of mockery. “Baby, he is so out of your league.”

She cocked her head and plastered a tight smile on her lips. “And precisely, what do you know about my league?”

“You know what I mean. How blind can you be not to notice that your brother has been screwing your girlfriend behind your back for months? Oops, sorry, wrong metaphor.”

“Both the Baratheons and the Targaryens have denied it.”

“Sure, sure. Then why the Baratheons were not invited tonight? And why did the one eyed come? He never does. Oh wait, look at that, Aegon’s missing. Not surprising though, didn’t they say Targaryens used to fuck amongst their own in the old times?”

She lowered her gaze, lost in thought, and then turned her head, instantly widening her eyes, shoulders tensing when she saw Aemond looking straight at her, sipping his drink, straightening the cobweb’s thread on which she had been tottering until that moment.

“Baby, are you high again?” Quentin asked her, with a genuine, inquisitive tone.

“What?”

“You’re shivering. Greyjoy told me everything about that night. Said you went batshit crazy on coke. Depraved as he is, it’s actually a good thing that you OD’ed. That creep would have fucked you even that stoned.”

She immediately grabbed his arms, trying to wriggle out of his hold. “Let me go.”

“Oh, come on.” He nothing but hold her more tightly. “I know you like to get a little freaky once in a while. I do, too. In fact, why don’t we take a tour upstairs? We could cheer up this drag.”

“No. Quentin, let me go.”

“Come on.” He insisted, pulling her to his chest.

She had to step on his foot to shake him off. “Let me cut straight to the point. I won’t fuck you, Quentin. Not tonight, not even if you were the last man left on this earth.”

He grimaced, spitefully twisting his mouth like any man who's been denied the chance to feel like a man for a few minutes. “I had warned Greyjoy about this. I told him you’re a spoiled cunt. You know what? You should get with that Stark fag. He may fuck your ass, so maybe you’d feel something 'cause I’m sure as hell your cunt is drier than the Red Waste.”

The insults were also part of the play.

After all, the act might not please everyone in the stalls. “Just shrug them off. They’re praises, actually, disguised bitterly for what they cannot have.” her mother said “Besided, a lion does not concern itself with the opinion of the sheep.”

When she was younger, each bitter word was a giant finger pointed at her, a gavel sealing the next judgement. Her mother had tried with all her carelessness to teach her how to be exactly that. Careless, a river flowing in its direction no matter the filth that would pollute the waters.

But she was draining, ever since Pyke, perhaps long before that.

She was tired of pretending to be gold while her fingertips seemed to leave behind nothing else but ash.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like to be tagged when I post part II, leave a comment below 🫶

#intrusion #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #Spotify

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eldritch-spouse · 24 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/746604785112940545/how-would-the-tce-boys-hold-up-in-a-zombie

The Morell one unsettled me fr fr 💀

I like to imagine meeting Santi in a zombie apocalypse though. You aren’t sure of him at first but then you get cornered by some zombies and after he helps you out you accept his offer

Out of all the things you expected to find in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, an incubus is the last one.

Since their method of feeding involves being so close to others, and body fluids, they were a major factor in the propagation of the infection, and also some of the first to succumb to it.

So really, your poor brain is doing cartwheels in your skull trying to understand how not only did you spot a living high-ranking incubus, but said demon also saved you from a considerable horde of zombies.

Santi, he introduced himself as soon as the two of you aren't covered in rotten blood, and he was clearly malnourished. Dim eyes, bags under them and somewhat gaunt cheeks, a sickly sort of hue to his skin. His smile had too much teeth to it and his gaze was too predatory no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

The demon would try to act charming, but the hunger merely being near you would induce had him snorting at the air and salivating as if you were seasoned steak on a platter. You knew what he wanted, just as you do now. Even if Santi had tried to be gentlemanly and claim that he helped you without expecting anything in return, it was no secret those words were only meant to endear him to you enough to consider sex.

He must be too weakened to be using pheromones, because you only ever experience small waves of arousal next to him. They last little and can be ignored with some effort. His mostly futile and tentative attempts to be subtle, to coax you, ruined by his instinctive anticipation.

You knew one day he could just decide to throw you to the ground and fuck the daylights out of you. That he was dangerous, less so than the zombies, but there was still the fear that he would savagely hurt you in his hunger.

Nights ago, you woke up with the sound of him tearing wildy into a group of zombies, frustrated by the inability to gain minimal energy from using their bodies. You think you might have heard him sob then, and in that moment, you could only imagine how such constant starvation must be driving him insane.

He can die soon.

Because, while you can find a can of beans somewhere and be satisfied for a while, Santi can only do the human equivalent of scraping the hints of sugar off candy wrapper.

And that thought scared you immensely. The incubus had been your most reliable source of protection thus far, losing him would mean going back to that permanent dread, that hopelessness, the slow madness of being alone for extended periods of time. But every single day, your hellish guardian grew weaker.

And a part of you thinks the incubus might be fond of you, to not just outright assault you and keep denying his survival drives.

More than merely fond, but that's a can of worms neither of you want to open.

Tonight, you've been awoken again.

The sensation of something wet trailing bare skin had you shivering to awareness, and now you're face to face with the demon. His tongue drooling across your inner thigh, eyes glazed, sweat glistening on his face and a fat cock throbbing between taught legs.

" Please... " He begged, long devoid of any attempt to charm. " Please... "

And it'd be selfish of you not to, right?

He saved your life.

You should save his.

#Santi oc

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kimbappykidding · 6 months

Text

How Seventeen react when they find out you have a crush on them

Scoups - Husband behaviour straight away

When Scoups heard from a reliable source you liked him back he was all in and ready for a relationship with you. He supposed he could've had more fun with it and teased you but he didn't want to do that. He wasn't the type to play games and so the next time he saw you he just asked you out.

It was a party at a mutual friend's house and Scoups had one thing on his agenda that evening. Mingyu could tell something was going on because Scoups was more tense than usual but he wouldn’t tell him what was bothering him, however it was pretty obvious the second you walked in. Scoups went right over to you and stayed there the entire night.

"Hey, you having a good time?" Scoups asked. You nodded "I am thanks what about you?". He nodded "yeah it's really nice seeing all the idols in a casual setting, do you want another drink?" he asked pointing at your empty one. You nodded and stood up but Scoups shook his head "no let me go grab you one, I'm heading that way anyway". "Aww thank you" you smiled and Scoups nodded. When Scoups returned drink in hand you smiled at him. “Thanks Scoups, you’re such a nice guy” you smiled “it’s really refreshing and makes me so grateful to have you in my life”. Those words made Scoups heart soar and he smiled “well I couldn’t agree more but I was wondering if you’d maybe like to have me in your life a little more, if you aren’t sick of me of course”. You grinned “of course not! In what way were you thinking?”. “In a romantic way” Scoups said honestly “would you like to go on a date with me?”. You went bright red and Scoups found it adorable. You nodded your head “I’d love to!” before pausing “sorry did that sound too eager?”. “Not at all” Scoups smiled “I like you and it’s nice to see you like me too”. “That’s an understatement” you replied before pausing “I didn’t mean to say that out loud”. Scoups just grinned, blushing slightly and you decided it was the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

Jeonghan - Smug af

You could always tell when Jeonghan knew a secret you didn't because of the smug smile on his face.

You'd met up for one of your movie nights and all through the film he kept glancing at you and then looking away with a smile. It was driving you crazy so eventually you just stopped the film and turned to him "okay spill". "Spill what?" he asked and you rolled your eyes "whatever it is that's making you look at me like that?". Jeonghan smiled "there's no reason, I just like looking at you". He'd always flirt with you when he didn't want to tell you the truth because he knew it embarrassed you. True to form you blushed but wouldn't let it go. "I know you Jeonghan and something is going on so please tell me!". "You like me" he said simply with a smile and you paused "what?". "You like me" he repeated sitting forwards "you have a crush on me and I know all about it". You blushed starting to panic "what? Who told you that?". "The who doesn't matter...the fact is you want me" Jeonghan grinned "and you can't even deny it". "I....I...." you babbled and Jeonghan just grinned popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth, so relaxed and smug. "I know" he smiled placing an arm around you "and I like you too".

You tensed in his embrace but he was just so chill. “You do?” you asked turning to look at him and he nodded. “Yeah, have for ages but glad you let it slip first”. “How did I?” you asked and he smiled “I heard you talking to Scoups about it and frankly I was impressed. You must’ve used some serious manipulation to get him to keep it from me and I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to you”. You were now bright red and your jaw actually dropped when Jeonghan said how he was attracted to you. He saw your reaction and smiled “you’re adorable flustered” and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Joshua - Confident af #1

Everyone always pigeonholed Joshua as sweet and polite and while he was both of those things he also had a more mischievous side. When he liked a girl he was the perfect gentleman, flirting a little but not too much and made sure to always remain respectful in case she didn't like him back but when he knew she liked him...then he kicked it up a notch.

"Hey Y/n" you heard someone call and turned to see it was Joshua. He must've just come off stage because he had that post-performance glow and looked really good in his outfit. Although somehow he'd gotten a red lollipop and was twirling it around in his mouth which made it hard to focus at first but after a few seconds you managed. You played it cool and nodded back to him "hey, how are you?". "Good...well better than good I'm great actually". You smiled "that's good" and Joshua nodded his eyes fixed on you "see I had a chat with Nayeon earlier and she told me some interesting things". You froze as he mentioned Nayeon, your worst member at keeping secrets. You'd purposefully not told her about your crush for that reason. You'd only told Jihyo but all it took was for her to tell one person and them to tell another until... You struggled to look Joshua in the eye but tried to play it cool leaning against the wall. "Ow yeah?" you asked and Joshua followed leaning against the wall too with an arm but with his height and the close proximity it just meant he was hovering over you. "Yeah...so how long have you liked me then?" he asked his eyes never leaving you for a second. You dropped what you were holding and of course Joshua caught it, smirking as you blushed when your fingers touched as he gave it back to you. "I...Nayeon said I liked you?". Joshua nodded taking the lolly out of his mouth with a satisfying pop. "Well not in words but she implied it...so is it true?" he asked with a smile. You were still bright red and couldn't look up "I erm...why do you want to know?". Joshua chuckled and leaned in closer "because I think it is true and I think the way you’re looking at me right now is insanely hot". Your brain was a mess so you only processed what he said a few seconds later. "Wait you do?" you asked and he grinned. "Yeah but then again I think everything you do is hot. Whenever you perform on stage it drives me crazy because I want you so much but I guess the question is..." he moved back so he could look you in the eye "do you want me too?". He now had you practically trapped against the wall an arm on either side of your head and everything about this made it hard to breathe. From how close his lips were to yours, to the amazing colour of his eyes and how hot his cologne smelt but that question was definitely the thing that pushed you over the edge. "I want you" you nodded and then cringed at how raspy and deep your voice had gotten but Joshua didn't seem to mind. He just grinned widely, his eyes doing that adorable smile thing you loved and nodded "great, how’s this Saturday?". You nodded "perfect actually". "Perfect" he replied "I'll pick you up at 7" and with that he strut away leaving you a mess in the space of a mere five minutes.

Jun - Loses the ability to speak

You and Jun had been a pretty great MC duo. You were natural together, the lines flowed and you had cute interactions. Therefore Jun was counting his first night as an MC as a success. He only had the closing to do which wasn't until the group finished performing. So he was taking a sip of water backstage when he spotted you reappearing from hair and makeup. He was going to go stand beside you when he saw one of your leader Solar, from your group Mamamoo, approached and hug you. He smiled, pleased they were congratulating you for doing such a great job when something they said made him pause.

"Congratulations you did it! And you thought you were going to be awful together". You sighed laughing "well I wasn't sure how it would work when you've got a huge crush on your MC partner. I was scared I'd be dumbstruck every time Jun looked at me with those gorgeous eyes but it was okay! It took me a few seconds at first but he's so nice and made me feel so comfortable I managed to get past his amazing looks". Solar laughed "you more than certainly did and the chemistry between you two! It's amazing you suit each other so well".

Jun could see you were blushing profoundly and was glad it wasn't just him. In the space of those 10 seconds he felt like the room had gotten 50 degrees hotter and his brain was a mess. You liked him? HIM? How? Why?

However before he could process it the stage manager appeared and told him to get into place for the last segment. Some cards were placed in his hand and he was pushed onto the stage still dazed. A few seconds later you appeared and smiled at him "we're almost there!". He nodded but could barely process what was happening. Then the cameras started counting down and they were live... but Jun couldn't speak. Everyone froze as he just stared at the camera and he could feel you next to him hesitating. The staff behind the camera were waving their arms around trying to get his attention but he just couldn't speak right now. His brain wasn’t working but thankfully you came to his rescue. You'd paid enough attention in rehearsal to know what his lines were and you said them for him. "Welcome back everyone! We hope you've had as much fun as we've had tonight but sadly this is our last award. However don't fret we've definitely saved the best till last, right Jun?". Jun moved as he heard you say your name and he looked at you. You were staring at him almost pleadingly but you didn't look angry like the others, more worried. That made him feel a little better so he smiled and nodded "yes certainly...it's the one you've all been waiting for billboard of the year!". He was too scared to turn his cards over but you had this. "So without further ado we'll pass you over to our colleagues and we wish you a very warm night from Mamamoo's Y/n..." you hesitated and Jun took that as his moment. "And Seventeen's Jun!". "Goodnight!" you both said together and the cameras cut.

"Jun are you okay?" you asked him immediately and he nodded "yeah I'm, fine I just...got some really big news in the break and it shocked me". You frowned "I'm so sorry, I hope everything's okay?". He nodded "yeah thanks I just really have to go". You nodded "of course I’ll explain everything to them you just go". He nodded very grateful and ran from the room. He had no idea what he was going to do about your revelation but now he was safely out of the danger zone he smiled to himself. His crush liked him back. With a new jig in his step he headed out of the studio.

Hoshi - Confident af #2

You arrived at the bar where everyone was gathered for Jeonghan’s birthday and spotted the huge group immediately. You greeted the birthday boy and then began to look for a place to sit. “Y/n!” you heard someone call and saw Hoshi waving to you “sit here, I saved it for you”. You smiled “wow thanks Hoshi” and slipped into the chair. You took off your coat and nodded to the people around you before spotting what Hoshi was wearing “wow you look nice!” you said complimenting his black sheer top. Hoshi smiled “thanks, what do you like about it so much? The fact it’s seethrough?”. You blushed slightly and shrugged “well it doesn’t hurt”. Hoshi smiled “good thing I wore it for you then isn’t it?” he said with a wink “let me get you a drink” and he disappeared leaving you flustered.

“Is something wrong with Hoshi?” you asked Vernon and Seungkwan who were across from you. “No...why? What makes you say that?” Seungkwan asked. You laughed “well he’s usually flirty but this is something else. Is he drunk?”. “I don’t think so” Seungkwan said and then you noticed Vernon nudging him slightly. You heard Vernon mutter “tell her” and Seungkwan muttered something back in response, “Tell me what?” you asked and their eyes shot up to you “you’re not very good at whispering you know”. Seungkwan sighed “so...someone might’ve accidentally let slip to Hoshi about your crush on him”. “What!” you cried and Vernon shook his head “and by someone he means himself. Seungkwan shot him a glare before turning to you “Y/n I’m so sorry! It just slipped out”. “How?” you cried and he sighed “Hoshi was worried you might not make it tonight because work’s been so crazy lately and I said you’d come purely because he was going to be here and I never meant for him to hear but he heard and asked what I meant and it all slipped out...”. “You’re unbelievable!” you began when Vernon shook his head “Hoshi’s coming” and you all pretended to be chatting normally.

“Here you go” Hoshi said putting a drink down in front of you “I got your favourite”. You smiled “thanks Hoshi” and he smiled hanging an arm around the back of your chair “it’s no problem”. “Hoshi it’s come to my attention that someone might’ve possibly told you something about me”. Seungkwan actually shielded his eyes with his hand and pretended he wasn’t there. Hoshi just smiled “yeah I know all about your big crush on me”. Your eyes widened at how upfront he was being and you blushed “I...wanted to talk to you about it”. “It’s true isn’t it?” Hoshi asked still smiling “I can tell by how you can’t look at me”. You blushed “I...well yes but I didn’t want to tell you this way”. “Well how did you want to tell me?” Hoshi asked wiggling his eyebrows and you laughed “Stop! You’re making me blush”. “Y/n I hate to tell you this but you’ve blushed about 10 times in the past 5 minutes”. You blushed again and Hoshi giggled. You tried to cover your face but he grabbed your hand “don’t it’s cute...so do you wanna go out sometime?”. “If I say yes will you stop torturing me?”. “It’s a date” Hoshi said pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

Wonwoo - The king of being smooth and subtle

When Wonwoo found out you liked him, all his members wanted him to rush in and ask you out but Wonwoo never did anything haphazardly. So he waited and put his great mind to work.

The two of you always finished at the same time on Wednesdays and would go grab a coffee together as a treat. Wonwoo had planned this to be the place and so he subtly started putting his plan into place. “How’s your schedule been lately? Really busy? Much personal time?” Wonwoo asked as you sat down. You shrugged “now‘s actually been a pretty good time. We’ve had some downtime so I was considering picking up a new language or something. What about you?”. Wonwoo smiled “yeah this is a quieter time for me too, maybe we can spend more time together?”. You blushed slightly and nodded “yeah that’d be great” and Wonwoo smiled, so far so good.

“I really like your jumper by the way, you’ve been looking great lately” Wonwoo said suddenly and you seemed shocked by the compliment. “Thanks! We’ve been on this new exercise plan and it’s weights as well as cardio which is fun”. Wonwoo nodded “it’s really paying off, you look amazing!”. You blushed a lot more obviously this time and thanked him “you look good too”. Wonwoo thanked you and decided to go for it.

“So Y/n...are you seeing anyone right now?” he asked. You froze and looked at him panicked before fixing a smile on your face “no I'm not, are you?”. Wonwoo shook his head “as a matter of fact I'm not but I have had my eye on this girl for a while”. “Oh?” you asked casually but Wonwoo could see your hand shaking slightly. “Yeah she’s from our company and she’s really great. She’s pretty, smart and super funny”. You smiled meeting his eyes “she sounds great, who is she?”. Wonwoo smiled “the girl sitting across from me”. Your jaw dropped and you actually did a quick check there was nobody behind you making Wonwoo chuckle “it’s you Y/n”. You blushed and met his gaze before looking away “I...had no idea”. Wonwoo smiled “yeah I’ve been told I can be pretty hard to read that’s why I figured I better just tell you...after doing some investigating of my own. See I'd heard you liked me but wanted to test the waters”. Your eyes widened “so that’s what all the questions and compliments were about”. Wonwoo shrugged “yeah but I meant everything I said, I want to spend more time with you and you do look amazing!”. You blushed again and Wonwoo thought it was adorable “so about spending more time together...are you free tomorrow night?” Wonwoo asked “if you’d like to go out with me that is?”. You said yes of course.

Woozi - Literally doesn’t give any indication he knows

When Woozi heard the rumour you liked him he simply decided not to do anything. He didn’t want to pay any attention to gossip and he figured you’d act on your feelings when/if you were ready. So the two of you carried on as normal and it was 2 weeks before you even realised he knew.

You were over at Woozi’s for your monthly movie night and he was laid on one end of the sofa while you took the other. You loved these movie nights partly because of your crush on the incredibly talented kpop idol but also because it was just a fun way to spend time with Woozi. However halfway through something kicked off in the kitchen (DK set the toaster on fire) and Woozi told you to stay here and he’d sort it. When he’d been gone a while you decided to call your friend Red Velvet’s Joy, who was also friends with Seventeen. “Hey, where are you?” Joy asked picking up the phone and hearing the background noise. “At Woozi’s, I think Dk’s destroyed the kitchen again”. “Well that’s what happens when you leave Dk unsupervised” she laughed “so how’s your date going?”. “It’s not a date we’re just friends” you replied and Joy laughed “sure but Woozi wouldn’t invite you over if he didn’t return your feelings. He’d surely have stopped it after the rumour got out”. You frowned “rumour, what rumour?”. There was silence on the other end until Joy gasped “wait has nobody told you? I leave the country to tour and everything goes to shit”. “What rumour!” you repeated and she explained everything. A month ago a rumour was going around that you liked Woozi.

You were horrified but it all made sense. The reason the members kept smiling at you or why they kept whispering things to Woozi. You couldn’t believe you hadn't realised but wondered why Woozi never said anything. As if summoned Woozi reappeared “it’s all sorted...woah are you okay? You look super pale”. Unlike Woozi you couldn’t keep a secret and you caved straight away “why didn’t you say anything when you found out I liked you?”. Woozi immediately blushed and looked down “I...well I figured you’d tell me when you were ready and I didn’t want to startle you”. “I had no idea you even knew! Joy just told me now”. Woozi frowned “I’m sorry I thought you knew I knew! See this is why I stay away from gossip, too much drama!”. Despite everything that was so typical Woozi it made you smile before going serious again. “What did you think?” you asked. Woozi paused “about you...the rumour?”. You nodded “when you heard it?”. Woozi hated emotions and feelings but for you he could handle it. “Well I liked it” he admitted and you smiled “you did?”. He nodded “of course! Y/n it’s no secret I'm pretty anti-social but I’d choose to be with you over being alone 90% of the time...okay minimum 80% but that’s the lowest I swear. Everyone else it’s like 50%”. You laughed again and smiled “yeah for you that’s pretty huge”. Woozi nodded “yeah so I like you too...in case you were wondering”. Woozi was a blushing mess and you sensed he had reached his emotional limit so you took his hand in yours and played the movie once again. Woozi snook an arm around you and fitted you against him. Sometimes gossip can be a good thing.

Dk - Incredibly goofy

It took Dk a while to believe you really were into him but when he did he became overjoyed. He had a permanent smile on his face and nothing could get him angry. Or well it could but as soon as the members said your name he was all smiles again. So DK was hopelessly smitten and it came out even worse when he was around you.

You were around quite a lot as you were Mingyu’s sister and new to the city, plus Dk invited you to literally any event before even Mingyu had the chance to. He was also the first in line to hug you every time, way ahead of your brother. Case in point, the second he saw your car pull up outside the house he was out of his seat.“Y/n’s here!” Dk called and rushed to the door. He barged into Joshua, sending the poor boy crashing into the wall but hurried past him to the door. He threw it open and smiled “hey y/n”. “Hi Dk! Wow you look great tonight” you called and Dk blushed “I do?” and a horrible laugh escaped before he could stop it. He clasped his hand over his mouth but it was too late. He stared at you horrified but you just smiled “yes of course you do! Cute laugh by the way”. Dk blushed even more and the guys were worried he might have a heart attack. “Mingyu go greet your sister before Dk has a cardiac arrest” Scoups called and Mingyu swept in to separate the two of you.

Dk stepped away from you and watched from a distance. He went to lean his arm on the mantlepiece but slipped and elbowed Joshua instead. Vernon laughed at the look on Joshua’s face as Dk apologised. “Please just ask her out before you kill me!” Joshua cried. “I can’t...what if she doesn’t say yes?”. “Dk she laughed when you did that ugly laugh and called it cute, I think there’s nothing more certain in the world than her liking you”. “You really think so?” Dk cried and the others groaned.

The8 had finally snapped and he walked up to you “Y/n would you like to go out with Dk sometime? He’s free this Friday and really likes you”. Dk froze as if someone had electrocuted him but you just blushed. “Yeah I’d love to...” you nodded looking across the room to him and Dk did that ugly laugh again. All the members burst into laughter as Dk tried to hide behind Seungkwan however the boy pushed him away and Dk fell on the floor. He just decided to stay there when you appeared above him. Dk sat up so quickly that he nearly headbutted you and you only just got out of the way. He apologise profoundly and you told him it was okay. “I was serious when I said yes” you told him “if you would like to hang out this Friday?”. Dk nodded so quickly he heard his neck click “I’d love to”. Great” you smiled and Dk nodded smiling back “great!”. The two of you were a love-sick mess the rest of the night.

Mingyu - really really happy

You would think, given the number of people who have found this man attractive, that people having a crush on him would’ve lost its touch but when Mingyu found out you liked him the opposite happened.

First he quizzed his members a lot to ensure they had accurate information. Then when Scoups got mad after several hours and told Mingyu not to ask them about it anymore he started to get that warm happy feeling as he realised the girl he was interested in had a crush on him. He’d hoped you might, the two of you talked often and hung out together whenever you could but to have this confirmation was excellent. So he decided to make a cake and a huge meal to celebrate.

He totally forgot you had a key and were house-sitting for The8′s plant, so when you walked in he panicked. “Wow it smells amazing in here!” you called and Mingyu froze “Y/n! Hey, what are you doing here?”. You smiled “I’m looking after The8 plants while he’s away remember?”. “Oh yeah of course” he nodded and you smiled at him “so what’s the occasion?”. “The occasion for what?” he asked and you grinned “this!” gesturing around the kitchen “I know you bake when you’re happy so did you have some good news or something?”. Mingyu went bright red and was considering telling you when Hoshi beat him to it. He didn’t see you sitting at the table as there were cookies on the counter that demanded his full attention. “Cookies! You finding out about Y/n’s crush on you is the best thing that ever happened to us!” Hoshi cheered biting into one. Mingyu froze and Hoshi frowned “what?” he asked, his mouth full of cookies when he turned and saw you. Hoshi panicked and said hello before running out of the room (with the cookies of course). “So...” you said “you know?”. Mingyu nodded “yeah...”. “And it made you bake?” you asked “so you’re happy about it”. “Of course!” Mingyu nodded “why wouldn’t I be? You're amazing”. You blushed at the smile on his face and nodded “so I take it you’d like to go on a date or something?”. Mingyu dropped the tray he was holding and nodded “let’s go!”. You laughed “we don’t have to go right this second, finish what you’re making. I’ll wait”. Mingyu nodded giggling slightly with giddiness “okay”.

The 8 - Gentleman x 1000

Step aside Joshua we have a new gentleman in town. When The8 heard the other members circulating a rumour you liked him, he made them stop immediately. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked Dk, Hoshi and Dino as they sat giggling. Dk smiled "we weren't doing anything!". "I heard you telling Woozi that y/n likes me". "Yeah" Dino said nodding happily and The8 shook his head "what gives you the right to tell anyone Y/n's personal business?". The smiles dropped off their faces "but we thought you'd be pleased..." Hoshi said and The8 shook his head. "I'd never be pleased to hear gossip. Leave Y/n alone and don't tell another soul, you go it?". The three boys all nodded. Meanwhile you had no idea the rumour was out until you saw two dancers smirking at you. "What's their problem?" you asked and your friend Le Sserafim’s Sakura hesitated "they know about your thing for The8". "What! How?" you cried and Sakura explained how you'd been overheard the other day on the phone. You were furious and marched over to them "look I know you don’t owe me anything but you could at least try and be professional at work and not spread my personal life around". One of them rolled their eyes "calm your horses we're not telling anyone after what happened when The8 found out, we don't need that kind of telling-off". You froze and asked them what they meant. Later when you saw The8 you jumped but had made up your mind about this so you approached him. "Hey" you called and The8 smiled at you "hey Y/n how are you?". "Well a lot better thanks to you apparently, I know some rumours about me got out and I heard you did a lot to stop them from getting any further so thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that and I really appreciate that you did". The8 shook his head "no need to thank me, you deserve to be treated correctly". You blushed and went to walk away when The8 chased after you "Y/n?". "Yeah?". "On a completely unrelated note, would you like to go out with me Friday night?". You grinned a huge blush on your cheeks "I'd love to". The8 smiled "great, I'll text you" and he walked away.

It always pays to be the nice guy.

Seungkwan - Word vomit every time you're around

Seungkwan had been absolutely fine chatting with you...before he realised you liked him. The second he realised you had a crush on him he completely clammed up and couldn’t think of a thing to say to you. The king of variety shows was a mess!

To make things worse he saw you a lot as you worked for the same company. This week alone had been a disaster. On Monday you asked him how his weekend had been and he just nodded. On Wednesday you were behind him in the queue for coffee and asked how the new comeback was going. He proceeded to tell you the lyrics of the whole song and even did some of the choreo before running away. On Friday you asked if he needed a lift home after seeing him walking and he told you he was cycling home. “I thought you couldn’t ride a bike?” you asked and Seungkwan nodded “I can’t but got to learn somehow” and took a random bicycle off the side of the road and started peddling. Luckily the bicycle’s owner intervened shortly after you left, saved him from driving into the road and agreed not to have him arrested.

So it had been a pretty bad week but there was an award show on Saturday and he just knew something was going to happen. Surely enough he saw you coming towards him on the corridor and you spotted him. "Hey Seungkwan! Cool jacket, where is it from?”. Seungkwan panicked and just said “Spain” because he knew you’d recently been to Spain and that was the first thing that popped into his head. “Ow cool I just got back from there, where in Spain?”. “Errrrr Madrid?” he said cautiously and you nodded “cool, my friend is from there. Did you do anything nice? Go to any museums or anything?”. Seungkwan shook his head “no”. “No?” you asked and Seungkwan froze “Well yes, yes we did! Sorry I went with my family when I was a kid so I don’t remember it well”. “So you saw that jacket when you went to Madrid as a kid and bought it for your adult self?” you asked confused. Seungkwan just nodded figuring he may as well go along with the lie “yep! I was an odd child. I picked out a lot of my clothes then”. “Wow I didn’t know that, well congratulations to past you, I guess?”. Seungkwan burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and you smiled along. “You look pretty good tonight too! Well not pretty good you look absolutely amazing!”. You blushed “aw thanks I wasn’t sure if I could pull off this type of dress”. “You can hear absolutely anything in the world” Seungkwan said and he began to list all the items of clothing you would look good in. You stopped him about 30 seconds in “Seungkwan?”. “Yeah?” he asked still picturing you in a cagoule. “Would you like to go on a date sometime?”. Seungkwan froze “with you?”. You laughed “yeah I’d be there”. “Yes! I’d love that” Seungkwan smiled and you grinned “great I'll text you my availability” and walked away. Seungkwan smiled widely “I totally killed that” and carried on walking.

Vernon - Watches you more

Vernon didn’t quite believe his members when they told him the news. Sure the two of you were close and he liked you but that meant nothing. His members all claimed he was blind and should just ask you out but Vernon was naturally cautious, so he decided to play it cool. He watched you instead looking for any hint you might like him. He watched as you chatted with Hoshi and did notice your eyes drifting towards him often. Then when you played the mafia game you voted to save him and kept him in the game. Finally when you all went for food you manoeuvred yourself into a seat beside him.

Vernon was beginning to think his members hadn’t been lying when he realised there was another explanation for your behaviour all night...he had been staring at you pretty much the whole time.

“Hey Vernon can I ask you something?” you asked and he nodded “what’s up?”. “Is everything okay? I’ve just noticed you’ve been watching me tonight”. Vernon went pink as he realised he must’ve been so obvious. He’d been told he could look vacant and odd when he stared and hoped that wasn’t the impression you’d gotten from him. “Yeah everything’s fine...sorry I was just trying to work something out that’s why I kept looking at you”. You frowned “what were you trying to figure out?”. Vernon paused and tried to come up with a lie but he couldn’t so he just stuttered. “Vernon?” you asked and he just cried “they said you liked me!”. You froze and Vernon cursed himself. Why couldn’t he just have said he liked your outfit or was wondering if you’d had your hair done? “Who said that?” you asked and Vernon paused “the guys and I was trying to work out if it’s true”. You nodded and didn’t seem upset which Vernon figured was good. “So what do you think?” you asked and Vernon paused “what?”. “Do you think they were telling the truth?” you asked shooting him a look that made him shake “do I have a thing for you?”. Vernon swallowed “erm I’m not sure...maybe”. You smiled “if I did would that be a problem?”. Vernon shook his head “no...more the opposite actually”, Your smile grew and Vernon thought you looked beautiful. “Good to know” you replied and you didn’t take your eyes off one another the rest of the night.

Dino - Overly confident...until you come near him

When Dino heard you liked him he was thrilled. He’d a had crush on you the first time he saw you as a dancer on stage but had never approached you out of professional courtesy (and the fact he was terrified). However when the guys overheard from another idol that you liked him too they told him he had to tell you and a sucker for peer pressure Dino agreed.

“So when are you going to tell her?” Mingyu asked and Dino sighed. You were across the room with your Everglow members and all his members had been asking for the past 40 minutes when he was going to tell you. “In a minute” he said and Scoups smirked “you’ve been saying that for the past hour!”. “No I haven’t! I’ve got it all planned out and I’m just waiting for the right moment”. Jeonghan laughed “ow yeah? So what’s the plan?”. Dino took a breath "I'm going to walk over to her and tell her the award show story". Vernon burst out laughing "the award show story? Really?". "Yeah it's romantic!" Dino cried while Joshua frowned "what's the award show story". Dino was ready to launch into it when Seungkwan cut him off "Y/n caught a piece of confetti in her hands during a performance one time and he thought it was really cool so he learned how to do it and came back the next year and did it in front of her, the end". Dino frowned annoyed that Seungkwan had taken his story when Vernon hit his shoulder "you were saying?". "Ow yeah...tell her the story and then ask her out". The8 who was done hearing about this cheered "yeah you go Dino! Go ask her out right now!" and he gave him a push out of the circle. Dino dragged his feet but when it was clear the guys weren’t going to let up he shrugged. "Fine I will!" and marched over to where you were stood.

The closer and closer he got the more his confidence began to waver and he slowed down as he got closer. He stopped and looked back to see his members laughing and encouraging him to go closer. He wanted to but his feet just wouldn't move so he was frozen in place. He was panicking wondering what to do when he heard a voice. "Excuse me Dino?". He turned to come face to face with you and almost yelled he was so startled. "Yeah?" he asked putting on a false smile. "I was just wondering if you knew where the bar is? We've been here 20 minutes and still can't find it". Your members all nodded embarrassed but Dino didn't think you could ever do anything embarrassing. He nodded "yeah of course I'm heading that way myself why don't I show you?". You smiled "really? That'd be great thanks" and you set off together. When he passed the members he smiled smugly showing them he'd done it but Scoups just pushed him. "We all know you didn’t ask her anything, you coward!" and he was a blushing mess once again. Dino would work up the courage eventually, for now he was just going to spend some quality time with you.

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the-adventures-of-dave · 1 year

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im not saying this to come at you, as a bengal owner myself (though i do not plan to purchase any more of them), but aren’t there issues of ethicality surrounding the bengal breed as well, because of their wild cat blood? in particular ive heard stories from vets online regarding the fact that they do not handle visits the way fully domestic animals do and can be dangerous as a result. i see this in my own bengal as well despite his coming from a reliable and reputable breeder and regularly receiving comments from vets that he is very well behaved for the breed. despite being generations down, the wild blood has a clear effect on how well he handles shots, flea treatments, etc. however, outside of vets, very few people seem to actually discuss this matter in relation to the breed. i had personally not even thought about it until i saw them compared to wolfdogs, so i thought to bring it up to you in case you were the same.

Hey there anon, it's no trouble at all! I'll split this into two parts. It's gonna be a long one, so take a look under the cut for my answers (and a very cute photo of Kep).

The question about aggression is interesting to me, as I've never actually heard of bengal-specific aggression before. To vetblr and catblr, what are your experiences with bengal aggression? Do you find the breed leans one way or another?

On that note, let's look at aggression. Like I said, this ask is actually the first I've ever heard of bengal cats being aggressive! Of all the bengal owners I've talked to, both breeders and your average folk, none mentioned anything about human or cat aggression in bengals. As a high energy breed, bengals are known to be environmentally destructive when understimulated, but I can't find anything supported by science stating the breed is any more or less human/cat aggressive than your regular tabby. In talking to both my vet and acquaintances that work at vet clinics, they've all only had positive things to share about bengal personalities.

In my own F7 bengal experience Kepler is as sweet as a button, and even in high stress situations like parties or vet visits he is calm and friendly. He's never had issues with shots, ultrasounds, flea treatments, or handling from the vet. (Dave my domestic shorthair, on the other hand, needs multiple drugs including complete anesthetic to prevent him from hurting himself or veterinary staff, and has a greater history of aggressive behaviour). I actually purchased Kepler because the bengal personality seemed a lot safer and more consistent than adopting a dsh from the shelter and risking owning two aggressive cats.

(A photo of Kepler at the fear free vet, allowing them to lay him on his back for an ultrasound and urine collection.)

Regarding ethics, the issue most look to is the Wild x Domestic cross of the asian leopard cat and domestic shorthair. In the United States and other countries with lax animal welfare laws, poaching and private ownership of servals to create the Savannah breed is an ongoing issue, so it makes sense to want to apply the same logic to bengals.

The reason the cross is not an issue to me personally is that the bengal is considered a "closed breed" under the TICA and CFA, meaning that breeders can no longer register and show <F4 bengals or create new bengal bloodlines by outcrossing to the asian leopard cat. As of this change reputable registered bengals are considered a fully domestic cat and not a wild cross.

(The CFA breed standard stating no bengal can be outcrossed to asian leopard cats.)

This means that so long as you source your pet from a registered and reputable breeder, you are not contributing to the poaching or the unethical breeding of wild mixes. It's a fantastic inclusion, as it also actively discourages people from poaching, owning and breeding wildlife. It also makes it clear to potential cat owners like myself which breeders to avoid (ie. those that don't register or show their "bengals").

As an Albertan Canadian I also have further peace of mind as it is illegal for people in this province to own or import wildlife or wild mixes F4 or below, so there is no chance of getting a poached cat (or its offspring) unless I went to the black market or a particularly shady breeder.

Are there people in the United States and other countries that still cross domestics with ALCs? Most definitely. But I personally don't think that owning a cat that is;

Purchased from a reputable breeder;

Barred by law to be a recent outcross; and

Registered under a cat fancy that discourages outcrossing

actively supports modern poaching or unethical wildlife ownership. Cat fancy has taken steps to minimize the harm of bengal breeding and ownership on wildlife while still preserving a bit of cat history. Those steps are sufficient enough for me to be comfortable with it, and I hope that breeds like the savannah cat follow in their footsteps with a closed breed standard.

That being said, if the history of the bengal upsets you or is something that rubs you the wrong way, I wouldn't fault you for it. Wildlife and animal welfare is a bit of a tricky business, and it's not always black and white. Just make sure to do your research and be open to multiple opinions. I appreciate you reaching out to me, and I hope my own thoughts have given you something to think about, even if you don't agree. Cheers!

#long post #like super long #im so sorry lmao #thanks for the ask!#cat breeds #bengals #i love bengals #i could go on forever about bengals #bengals are the light of my life #(and dave too i also love him)#apologies if that sounded at all condescending that wasn't my intention #i just get really into talking about cats

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hazbinhotel-bitch · 2 months

Text

Episode One: Alastor x (Name)

(Name) sat on the side lines of the large desk with a radio board with all kinds of buttons and switches. The demoness stayed quiet as Alastor sets up to get ready for the first time in a very long time to get back in the game of broadcast. (Name) had her ears pulled back her tail swishing in slight annoyance at the whole ordeal. She honest felt like an assistant but she did find him some news to covers that was happening in the ring of pride. Valentino was caught yet again with some questionable chatter and bad mouthing a few other overlords that the demoness heard and reported it to Alastor. (Name) relayed this story in detail to Alastor who found it mildly amusing and thought it would be fun to announce it.

The two came to the agreement, eventually, that Alastor will introduce Siege as the reliable source and that (Name) is his new assistant/co-host. Of course (Name) would give Alastor the main bulk of the story but more private detail would be used for her Scandal sheets, Alastor agreed reluctantly but he had found the woman to be rather cunning so he was able to admire that.

The red light turned on “ON-AIR” it read with blinking lights. The demoness grew quiet as Alastor flicked some switches as he started to clinch down with his fingers

“Welcome ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been a while” he announced “of course I’m here with a few changes to my broadcast! Fear not my hellish demons, I’m simply here to keep you all informed with my new assistant”

(Name) glared as her tail swished not wanting to talk

“Now, now dear. No need to be so fearful”

she hated that smile that seemed taunting

“Do forgive my little assistant, she’s a little shy. Well I’m sure we will hear from her eventually” he said letting out a little breathy laugh as he started to give out some announcements of what will be added to his little broadcast.

“Now that the pleasantries have been dealt with. Let us talk about this Siege of the Scandal Sheets” he smirked as he saw how (Name) visibly tensed “Now I’m aware that this little demon has been reporting a few things here and there about most Overlords here in pride ring… And believe me I have seen their writing on myself and I too was rather… amused”

(Name) held back her growl at his choice of words, she knew damn well she surprised him no doubt. But for him too be all high and mighty as if he was the one who had his eye on her first was laughable to her, her instincts wanted to correct him but he was live so she held her tongue as Alastor continued.

“Why I bring up this little demon is a rather humorous really, see I had a little chat with this Siege demon… and we came to an accord, they will now be my main source of stories” he stated picking at his claws like he had no care in the world “do stay tuned for what’s to come, I’ll be back with the newest, and yet to be published story by Siege of the scandal sheets. so until then enjoy some nice relaxing… music”

With the “ON-AIR” light was turned off while he let his music, which were nothing much scrams of whatever victim he tortured, play as he smugly looked at (Name). He laced his fingers together as he held his chin up as he leaned on the table

“What’s wrong my dear? You look a little tense?”

His voice was obviously teasing and he finally growled at him “you’re really pushing it Old man”

Although Alastor smiled his eye twitched at her insult, he wasn’t particularly vain by any means, but he never considered himself old so it was rather insulting to him. He made no efforts to say anything tocmbt her insult, it’s not his nature but he caught on rather quickly that simply dismissing with a big smile semed to anger her more than anything.

“Well my dear, I was simply stating an obersvation. You look overly tense my dear… and why is that, hmm?”

(Name) grinded her teeth in sheer annoyance of this man but she did her best to calm down before responding to the obnoxious deer demon.

“Yes I’m tense youre not reallying let me have a chance to preserve my idenity, it’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out” she stressed annoyed how he lounged in his seat cleaning his monical

“Well so be it my dear, why not have it out in the open.” he shrugged placing his monocle back on his face “Darling I still don't see why you are so stressed. If everyone knew you, the infamous Siege, was in alliance with the great Radio Demon; you wouldn’t have you tail tucked between your legs all the time—’

(Name) cuts him off abruptly

"I will have you know, Alastor. Being associated with you is the worst thing to do, everyone would rather kill me and succeed to do it just to get to you... So no, it actually makes me a bigger target. Not to mention you didn't even let there be mystery to your 'assistant' and Siege both being your help and not so coincidentally on the same day" she snapped.

(Name) saw red when he lifted a finger and pressed a button with a big smile as he put himself on air to simply end their conversation. She knew he loved annoying her to no limits but at it seemed after the short break Alastor didn't mention Siege or (Name).

. . . Although she found him insufferably annoying she had to admit at least he was someone respectful once he got the reaction he wanted from her.

--------- --------- Previous Chapter: Here

Next Chapter: Here

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon

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7-wonders · 10 months

Text

The Nightmare

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x reader

Summary: Your daughter has a nightmare, and Morpheus is the one to soothe her.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Just a short little something to get back into writing after my unexpected break. This is in the same universe as "Fatherhood," where you're a single parent with a daughter named Caroline. I just love unexpected parental relationships, okay? (no this certainly doesn't say anything about me and any childhood trauma I have)

It’s been a long day by the time you’ve finally gotten Caroline to go to sleep, and you fall back onto your couch with a heavy sigh. You love your daughter, truly–she’s the light of your life. But good god, why do children not have an off switch? Why do they have to be “go-go-go” from the moment they wake up until they literally pass out from exhaustion?

“Long day?” Morpheus asks, having appeared from thin air.

It’s so familiar now that you don’t even flinch when he occupies space that, moments ago, was empty. You can hear the teasing in his voice, but you barely even have the energy to open your eyes and look at him.

“You have no idea.”

Morpheus joins you on the couch, and you lean your head against him with a sigh. He smiles down at you softly, brushing a couple of stray locks of hair behind your ear. “Might I help you relax after your long day, then?”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” you say with a smile.

Instead of actually doing any sort of relaxing, you somehow end up making out with your primordial, all-powerful boyfriend on the couch like you’re a couple of teenagers. Par for the course, you have to admit; though Morpheus may not seem it, he’s extremely affectionate, and you’re more than willing to accommodate him.

When crying starts up in earnest from Caroline’s room, you frown against Morpheus’s lips. She’s historically been a good sleeper, sleeping through the night since she was a baby. To hear her crying concerns you, though most things regarding your child concern you. It just comes with the territory of being a parent. Still, you try to ignore it and continue kissing, hoping that she’s just restless in her sleep.

You’re already up and heading to her bedroom by the time she calls out for you, Morpheus completely forgotten.

The light from the hallway illuminates her tear-streaked, flushed face when you open up her bedroom door. She has the blankets pulled up all the way around her, with only her face peeking out of the opening.

“Baby,” you coo, sitting down on the bed and letting her crawl into your lap and bury her face in your neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” she whimpers.

“Oh, that must have been so scary,” you commiserate, feeling her nod against you.

“I looked and I looked and I looked, but I couldn’t find you!” she cries out, devolving into sobs that shake her entire body. You hush her and rock her, reassuring her that you’re right here and that you aren’t going anywhere.

“It’s okay though, you know that nightmares aren’t–”

You stop yourself before you say what you’ve always said to comfort her, which is that nightmares aren’t real. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since you began to see Morpheus romantically, it’s that dreams and nightmares are very much real. How are you supposed to help your daughter now when your normal placation is a lie?

You panic, your eyes searching the air as you try to think of something to say. They land on Morpheus, who stands silhouetted in the doorframe. He enters the bedroom, which you hadn’t expected. Even more unexpected, he kneels down next to you and places a hand on Caroline’s back.

“Dweam,” Caroline says when she realizes he’s here, in the little kid way that always makes your heart ache.

“I heard that you had a nightmare,” Morpheus says in lieu of a greeting.

“A scary one,” she insists, not that either of you needed any convincing.

“Sometimes they are, yes. Though, a very reliable source has informed me that they are far more scared of you than you are of them.”

Caroline looks up at Morpheus with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yes. Especially when you growl at them.”

Caroline giggles against him, and you stifle your own laugh in your hand. “You’re silly.”

“It is true. Show me your best growl?”

She scrunches up her face, bears her teeth, and roars like a little bear. Morpheus nods seriously, while you hide your face in his shoulder so that you can laugh in peace.

“Very frightening.”

One of the many things that you love about Morpheus is that he doesn’t treat your daughter like a child. No, she’s a person, only small, with thoughts and emotions that deserve to be taken seriously.

“Would you like to hear a story?” Morpheus asks when it’s apparent that any sign of tears is long gone.

Caroline perks up and nods. She loves Morpheus’s stories; he’s not called the Prince of Stories for no reason. If you’re being honest, you love his stories too.

Only at her say so does Morpheus maneuver his long legs to fit onto Caroline’s toddler bed, with you shifting effortlessly to the floor to allow the two their space. Caroline snuggles into Morpheus’s embrace, and her thumb goes to her mouth as she looks up at him. After he thinks for a moment, likely flipping through his mental arsenal, he decides on a tale of a little nightmare that didn’t know what her purpose was.

By the time he reaches the climax–the little nightmare was actually a little dream, whose purpose was to comfort children having nightmares–Caroline is snoring softly against him, and she has been for a few minutes. You’re a little in awe of just how easily Morpheus got her calmed down and back asleep, with no magic other than his voice. You wish you had your phone with you, so you could capture this memory forever.

He disentangles himself from Caroline, taking extra care not to jostle her any more than absolutely necessary. You pull the covers back up over her, kissing her little forehead as you do so. Morpheus smoothes a gentle hand through her tangled curls—you pretend not to notice, instead waiting for him at the bedroom door.

When you’ve successfully shut the door without waking her up, you look up at Morpheus. “Thank you.”

His strong brow furrows in confusion. “For what?”

“Getting Caroline back to sleep. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. She was disturbed by one of my own creations; it was the least I could do.”

You almost laugh at just how much of a non-issue this was for him. In his mind, it makes perfect sense that he would obviously comfort his lover’s daughter. For you, though, it means the world, and you tell him as much.

He shifts uncomfortably under your praise, and you’re practically waiting to see him blush. Alas, not this time. “She is your daughter,” is all that he says in response.

When he tries to kiss you again, you yawn. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually am tired.”

“Shall I see you off to my realm as well?” Morpheus asks smoothly, kissing at your jaw instead.

“Hmm, as long as I’ll see you there?”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

You know how much Morpheus’s realm means to him; it quite literally is him. It’s not lost on you, what it means for him to so easily shift things around just so that he can spend as much time with you as possible.

You’ll never take for granted just how much he loves you and, much to your surprise and delight, your daughter.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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sarahwroteathing · 10 months

Text

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Steve Rogers!

[Art Teacher!Steve Rogers x Single Mom!Reader]

Word Count: 3417

Warnings: single mom reader, chaotic bestie Bucky Barnes

Summary: While painting faces at the local harvest festival, Steve sees you and Charlie outside of school for the first time.

A/N: I’m baaaaaaack! Did ya miss me?

Here’s the previous three installments in the Glitterverse, in case you missed them or need a refresh!

Glitter Cool Kid Table Silver Star

Steve was in the very serious process of adding purple stripes to a charmingly cartoonish spider he’d painted on a little boy’s cheek when the sound of a bright, happy laugh caught his attention. There was nothing too unusual about that, honestly. He liked seeing people happy, whether he knew them or not, and there had been no shortage of happiness at the Harvest Festival so far.

The apple bobbing tent was a pretty reliable source of laughter of the triumphant, self-deprecating, and “No, I swear, I’m not laughing at you” varieties.

The pumpkin carving tables were another happiness hotspot as people giggled over each other’s designs and gave the nervous laughs of people utterly unsure of the sharp implements they were holding.

This particular laugh came from the exit of the corn maze, and Steve did his very best to ignore the little flutter in his chest when he recognized you, cozy and carefree in an oversized sweater and scarf, spinning a giggling Charlie in increasingly wobbly circles until you both fell onto a nearby hay bale.

“We did it!” he heard you shout, raising both arms above your head.

Charlie’s voice was too soft to catch at this distance, but whatever she said made you laugh again and tug her against your side.

“Excuse me? Are you done?”

Steve’s eyes snapped forward again, and he fought a flush of embarrassment as he smiled at the boy who was now starting to squirm restlessly on his stool.

“Sorry, almost,” he said. “One second.”

Steve added one last stripe before setting down his paintbrush and reaching for the small mirror tucked between the paint bottles and paper cups. He held it up with a playful flourish that earned him a giggle.

“What do you think?”

The boy inspected his cheek closely, squinting his eyes for a moment before giving a decisive nod.

“It’s good.”

Steve gave the boy a parting smile as he raced back to his grandfather, who was waiting near the donation table and chatting with Bucky.

The same Bucky Barnes, best friend and bane of his existence, who was now cheerfully waving them off and approaching Steve with such a casual smile that it was immediately suspicious.

“That last one was barely even a masterpiece, Steve. Are you okay? Coming down with something?”

“Still better than you could do,” he said pointedly, rearranging the paint bottles and rinsing off the brushes he’d used.

“Rude. I knew something was going on with you,” Bucky said, plopping himself down on a stool and fixing Steve with an expectant look.

“No, there's not. Now move unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Are you sure you could focus for long enough to paint my face?”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky only smiled.

“I have this sixth sense that tells me when scary things are happening. Like when all the birds go quiet. Or the clouds look freaky. Or Steve Rogers stares longingly at a woman.”

“What are you- I wasn’t-”

“You. Staring. Beautiful woman. I saw it.”

And Steve knew full well he was betraying himself by glancing towards you again, but it was an impulse he didn’t have time to suppress. You were at a stall this time, talking cheerfully with a baker, a basket hanging from the crook of your arm and Charlie’s hand in yours.

“I’m not… staring. I just…”

You were laughing again, and the baker, a rosy cheeked older woman, handed a loaf of bread over the table to you with a fond smile.

“Wait, do you know her?” Bucky demanded, recapturing Steve’s attention when he smacked him on the arm.

“I… yeah.”

Now well into October, Steve not only saw you every weekday, he also occasionally texted you on weekends. It was never much, only instigated when one of you happened across something that reminded you of the other person. A picture of the mug of apple cider that Bucky had unceremoniously dumped way too much edible glitter in. A picture of your kitchen table covered in old newspapers to protect it from your and Charlie’s watercolor experiments. It was nothing, really. But it made him happy.

“Her?” Bucky repeated, brows raising as he turned to look over his shoulder at you.

“Ye- Please, stop pointing. Yes.”

“Fluffy sweater, cute kid? Her?”

“Bucky.”

“Looking like she just stepped out of a fairytale with a basket of apples, bread, and what I assume is jars of either honey or jam or both?”

“Why are you freaking out?” Steve sighed.

“Because you didn’t tell me about her!”

Steve pursed his lips. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to hear about all my students’ parents.”

Bucky was thoroughly unamused.

“Steve. You told me when you changed dish soap, but you didn’t tell me that you’re now living a romance novel. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Steve said, wacking him with a roll of paper towels. “Bucky, there are kids.”

“What the fudgesicle is wrong with you?” Bucky repeated in an identical tone.

“My life is not a romance novel. Take it easy. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he answered with a humorless laugh. “But you didn’t tell me about her. Which means you’re considering something that you’re not sure you should be considering. And you knew that if you told me, I would easily talk you into it.”

Steve took a moment to process that, glancing over at you again and straightening up in surprise when he caught your eye. You smiled, wide and genuine, raising a hand in a greeting that he quickly mirrored.

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve said quickly when you had turned away again, only half paying attention now because you were talking to Charlie, gesturing in his direction.

“I agree. But I’m right.”

You were walking their way now, and this conversation needed to be over right now.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Steven. Please. The children.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the apple?”

“You. Fairly often. And Sam even more often. But luckily his opinion means nothing to me.”

And while there were a hundred things Steve would love to say about that, there wasn’t time.

“Bucky, I swear, we can talk about it for as long as you want later, but right now I need you to act like a normal human being,” he said urgently.

“Is she right behind me?”

“About to be.”

“Fine.”

Bucky plastered on an only slightly manic smile as he turned to greet you.

“Hello! Interested in some face paint?”

You seemed caught off guard by the exuberant greeting, but recovered quickly.

“I think so, yes. How much?”

“Free! But we’re also collecting donations for the Woodbridge Elementary art program.”

“I see,” you said, eyes flickering to Steve for a moment. “Well, we kinda like the art program, don’t we?”

“Yep!” Charlie said, also peeking around Bucky to offer a tiny smile to Steve.

“Alright then. Go ahead and tell Steve what you want, and I’ll take care of the money stuff.”

You followed Bucky a few steps away to the donation table, and Charlie skipped up to him.

“Hi,” she said, waiting for him to pat the open stool before sitting down.

“Hi, Charlie. Know what you want yet, or do you want to look at some pictures?”

“Umm…” Her forehead scrunched a little as she thought. “Can you do a cat with a witch hat? Is that too hard? You can just do a pumpkin if that’s too hard.”

“Well, I think a cat with a witch hat is an awesome idea!” Steve said with a smile. “I’ll do my best, and if it doesn’t turn out right, we can try something else. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she said with a nod.

Steve set out some clean brushes, a new cup of water, and a clean paper towel.

“What color cat?”

“Orange?”

He nodded, setting up little dixie cups of orange, black, yellow, brown, and green paint.

“Alright, are you ready? It’s going to feel a little cold.”

“I’m ready! I’ll be real still,” she vowed, clenching her hands into determined little fists on her knees.

Steve started with a few dabs of color until Charlie relaxed a little, used to the sensation.

“Are you having fun at the festival?” he asked a few moments later, tracing the outline of a cat on her cheek.

“Yeah! We did the maze without a map! And we got bread for later. Mom’s making spaghetti for dinner!”

“Yum! Do you like spaghetti?”

“It’s my favorite. Mom always makes cheesy bread.”

“Well, this is going to be a good day then, huh? What else are you going to do?”

“Umm, we still have to pick our pumpkins! And, there are these earrings mom really likes over at the corn maze, but she won’t buy them. I think she should buy them.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve glanced over at the stall near the entrance to the corn maze. He’d spoken to that woman before a few times. She was a local artist who liked to make jewelry and print her abstract watercolor art on scarves. “What do they look like?”

“Like shiny green rocks and little gold leaves. She’ll look like a fairy.”

Steve smiled at the admiration in her voice, but before he could say anything, you wandered back over with Bucky.

“Oh my goodness. Charlie, you’re a masterpiece!”

She smiled proudly as Steve added a last little detail to the cat’s witch hat before leaning back.

“All done,” he said, holding up the mirror for her. “What do you think?”

Her eyes widened along with her smile.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Your turn,” Charlie said, hopping up from the stool and nudging you towards it.

“Is that allowed?” you laughed.

“If you want, then of course it is,” Steve said with an easy smile.

You turned to Charlie, smiling at her eager nod.

“Alright then. What should I get?”

“We could match! Or get an even bigger cat. Ooo! A tiger!”

“You heard the lady. One tiger in a witch hat, please,” you laughed, dropping into the stool beside Steve and setting your basket and purse down on the ground beside you.

“Mama, can I get my book?” Charlie asked, eyes on your purse.

“Yeah, of course. Big pocket.”

“There’s an extra chair at the donation table if you don’t mind sitting next to me,” Bucky told her as she liberated her book from your very full purse.

Charlie smiled a little shyly and nodded, following Bucky back to the donation table with a parting wave to you.

“How did I end up with the best kid in the world?” you asked, eyes following Charlie as Steve set up the paints.

“Mm, you and Tony might have to fight about that one.”

“Aw, Morgan is pretty great. I’m surprised she’s not here! It seems like the kind of thing she’d love.”

“They’re coming tomorrow, I think. Don’t be surprised if Pepper calls later to invite Charlie,” Steve said with a smile, dabbing orange paint onto a clean brush. “You ready?”

“Mhmm. Make me pretty, Mr. Rogers.”

“You manage that on your own. I’m just adding a pretty tiger,” he said quietly, fighting down a blush when you glanced at him with surprise.

He cleared his throat.

“Try not to move,” he said, hoping the cold paint would distract you as he began.

“Not moving. One of my favorite activities,” you said with a flicker of a smile.

“For a not-mover, I hear you did pretty great in the corn maze.”

“Oh, that was all Charlie. If it was just me, I’d still be lost in there somewhere. Probably crying.”

Steve laughed.

“I’m sure someone would have saved you eventually.”

“Don’t know about that. I don’t imagine anyone having much sympathy for an adult sobbing alone in a corn maze.”

“Well, fine, then I would’ve saved you,” Steve said, catching an errant wind-blown strand of your hair before it could land in the wet paint. He tucked it gently behind your ear.

Sitting this close to you, he heard your breath catch slightly, saw your blink land a little harder than normal.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Didn’t want you to get paint in your hair.”

“Already saving me,” you said with a quiet little laugh. “You have a habit of doing that.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do. Saving someone doesn’t have to be some huge gesture. It can be something like… Cheering me up at an open house. Looking out for Charlie and making her smile every day. Giving someone grumpy a sticker. Being a friend,” you ventured, giving a delicate shrug so as not to move too much.

Steve’s heart gave a little flutter, gave him permission to brush your hair back from your face again, though none of it was in danger of dragging through paint this time.

“I like being your friend.”

“I like it too,” you said quietly.

Steve took a breath, less steady than he would have preferred, as he added one final dab of paint.

“Ready to see?”

“Absolutely.”

You called Charlie back to your side as Steve held up the mirror for you. You beamed at your reflection.

“Love it!”

“Good.”

The three of you exchanged a few more pleasantries before you and Charlie headed off into the crowds again. Bucky wasted no time. They were barely out of earshot when he dropped into the stool in front of Steve with an expectant grin.

“Go away,” Steve sighed. “Unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Oh, sure. Paint little hearts all over it. Then it’ll match yours,” he said smugly.

“Stop.”

“I like being your friend,” Bucky quoted in a dramatic voice. “Do you know how many times you’ve said that to me? None. None times. We’ve been friends since we were five, Steve.”

“Yeah, because I don’t like being your friend. You’re annoying.”

“She’s pretty. She’s nice. She’s fun. She’s not wearing a ring, and she didn’t mention anything about a partner. Her daughter is the chillest kid I’ve ever been around. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, Bucky.”

“Then why are you not attached at the lips? Does she have the plague? Do you have the plague?”

“She has a daughter. She doesn’t date.”

That, at least, finally shut Bucky up. He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment.

“Did she tell you that?”

“Tony told me that. Not that I asked.”

“And Tony heard it from…?”

“Pepper.”

“Who heard it from…?”

Steve gestured in the direction you’d walked.

“Hmm…”

“She doesn’t feel comfortable bringing men around Charlie.”

“She brings you around Charlie.”

“I’m her art teacher. It’s not the same.”

Bucky tapped restlessly at the table for another moment.

“I’m gonna think about this and get back to you.”

“Oh, please do,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Hey,” Bucky nudged him until he made eye contact, his expression much more serious now. “I mean it. You really like her, don’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Steve said with a helpless shrug. “So I’m happy to be her friend.”

“You really like her,” Bucky repeated firmly. “So we’ll figure it out. Because I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“Thanks Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, pushing up from the stool and knocking Steve’s shoulder with a light punch. “There’s a reason you keep me around, you know. Now stop frowning. You’re scaring the children.”

Things returned to business as usual for about an hour. Steve painted a dozen more faces, had just finished a matching set of bumblebees on a tiny redhead and her grandmother when Bucky came jogging over again.

“Go, go, go!” he said urgently, shoving Steve out of his seat.

“What, why? Go where?” Steve asked, barely catching himself before he could hit the ground.

Bucky didn’t answer, grabbing the top of Steve’s head to steer his eyes in the right direction.

You and Charlie were laboring towards the parking lot, Charlie weighed down with a basket, tote bag, and your purse while you were nearly doubled over, rolling an enormous pumpkin across the patchy grass.

“Absolutely not,” he said quietly to himself, dodging around the edge of his table and running your direction.

“Whatcha got there?” he laughed, easily catching up to the two of you.

“The great pumpkin!” Charlie chimed in as you gave another shove to your regretfully chosen and mightily overgrown gourd.

“Are you sure? It’s not even sparkly,” Steve said, squinting speculatively.

“She’s sure,” you said, straightening up for a moment and swiping your hands on your jeans. “So we are escorting him to the car the best way we can. Him?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.

“Him.”

“Him,” you repeated, gesturing matter-of-factly at the pumpkin.

“Got it. And would your giant orange gentleman like another escort to ease his journey?”

You made a face like you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and settled for flinging your arms around him in a loose hug.

“God, please. I will give you all the money in my wallet. I’ll give you my credit card. Would you like my social security number?”

Steve laughed, gently returning your hug for a brief moment before turning to face the pumpkin.

“Alright, pal. Let’s get you where you need to be.”

He squatted low to get his arms under it, straightened up with a low grunt as he hefted it up, leaning back slightly to take some of the weight on his chest. It wasn’t too heavy for him to manage, but the size and shape made it awkward to hold. Once he had it reasonably secure, he looked to you for direction, finding both you and Charlie staring at him with eyes as wide as you could make them.

“Tell me where I’m going. I can’t see too well over this guy.”

You snapped into action then, taking your purse and basket from Charlie.

“Charlie, steer,” you said, pointing at Steve. “I’ll run and pull the car around.”

Charlie took up her station beside Steve, her hand on his elbow. You took off towards the parking lot, digging in your purse as you ran.

“What are you going to name him?” Steve asked as Charlie gently steered him around clusters of oblivious people standing between him and the festival entrance.

“I don’t know yet,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn’t think mom would say yes.”

“Let me know when you decide! I’m sure you’ll think of a great one.”

“Are you okay? Is it too heavy?” she checked anxiously.

“I’m alright,” he said with a laugh.

You only kept them waiting for a minute before pulling up to the front entrance, popping the trunk before running over to them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said breathlessly, placing your hands on the pumpkin to help stabilize as Steve lowered it into the trunk of your car.

“No problem,” he said, brushing his hands clean on his jeans, sighing when he noticed the drips of paint he’d managed to get on them.

“Thank you, Mr. Steve,” Charlie said, hesitating for a moment before giving him a quick hug and fleeing to the back seat.

Your eyes were soft as you stared after her, mouth curled into an amused smile.

“She’s never hugged me before,” Steve said quietly, feeling kind of like his heart might explode.

“Sweet girl. Did she call you Mr. Steve?” you asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I told her she could just call me Steve outside of class. That’s the closest she’s gotten.”

“So cute,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Anyway, thank you so much for your help. And for the face paint.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“It was nice seeing you,” you said warmly, squeezing his arm in goodbye as you took a step back toward the car. “Outside of school, I mean.”

“Nice seeing you too. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. And hey, if you decide to come back tomorrow with the Starks, come say hi before you leave.”

“I’ll let you know.”

You waved before settling back into the driver’s seat, and Steve backed towards the festival entrance, only turning to head back to the face paint table when you had driven away.

At the last second, he swerved towards the jewelry booth, in search of shiny green rocks and little gold leaves.

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A slice of fall in June. Hope you enjoyed it! Would love, love, love to hear what you think of this little development!

As always, reblogs, replies, and asks make my world go round. Can’t do what I do without you!

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