#thank you again for taking all this time ill peruse this

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #GAH.

[archonadeptus]

Serenitea pot - Introducing Tighnari.

Creator!Reader

Characters: Kazuha, Tighnari, Thoma, Ajax, Zhongli, Xiao.

A/N: This is short but I really wanted to write something like this for fun! Thinking about Making a few More proper ones though. Maybe where they spoil the creator! Ahem, anyway enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Those with high favour from the creator were granted access to the serenitea pot - the creators home. Out of this group. You'd have to select two to accompany you and protect you throughout your travels in Teyvat. In this case, you'd just returned from Sumeru with a certain new someone at your side.

"Thank you Tighnari, Kazuha - for keeping me company." You smiled as Kazuha opened the door of your mansion for you.

"Think nothing of it, your grace. It's the least I could do after everything you assisted me with back at Gandharva Village. It's truly an honour to be invited here, thank you." He gave you a gentle smile as you walked in, eager to show him around and to meet everybody. Thoma was at the door, immediately greeting you with a warm smile and tight hug.

"Your grace! Welcome home, we all missed you-" He was instantly interrupted by Ajax bounding into the room with a big grin - picking you up and spinning you in his arms.

"Y/N! You're back!"

"Hello Ajax! I Missed you!" Thoma just dragged him away a little,

"How many times have I told you not to touch our creator so casually?" With a giggle, you stretched your arms and yawned lightly.

"Hm, 'Nari? Let me show you your room?" Kazuha soon gently held your hands smiling,

"Your Grace, let's get you to bed first alright? You've had a long journey, dearest." His voice was always so gentle, another reason the others always had Kazuha nearby at night for you - incase of any nightmares.

"He's right, your Grace." Tighnari hummed a little whilst adoring your sleepy expression, "Sumeru isn't easy to travel through. I'll be alright." Yawning again you rubbed your eyes.

"I created its lands so I don't know why I'm so tired…"

"Creation is a tiring thing…" Zhongli spoke, walking down the stairs with Xiao at his side. "You breathed life into a new land all whilst within a mortal body. You must rest now, my dear." Smiling wide, you ran to them both and held them tightly. Even Xiao smiled and clung to you a little tighter. Giving a sleepy smile in return, you watched as their gazes fell upon the new member in your home. Quickly, you gathered everybody to the living room before the fireplace Thoma so carefully prepared for you. Sitting everyone upon the plush sofas, Tighnari stood beside you with a confident gaze.

" So... My time in the new land of Sumeru was truly wonderful! Everything is as I hoped it would be. But I brought back Tighnani! I've settled the pot in some lands I was exploring. So I'll take you all soon okay?" Taking a deep breath in you gazed at him. "Please be welcoming!" Your gaze was mainly focused on a usually overly jealous Ajax. He, however, just winked at you only to receive a light smack from Thoma.

"Hi there! I'm Tighnari, Forest Watcher of the Avidya Forest. My duty is to preserve both the rainforest's ecosystem and the safety of its visitors. This will be your first time here, so I suggest you first peruse the Avidya Forest Survival Guide, paying particular attention to the chapter 'Distinguishing Between Edible and Poisonous Mushrooms.' Basically, just please don't eat anything you don't know what is." The others just smiled lightly before Ajax stood and patted his back,

"Well, in that case, welcome to the team! You look after y/n then we won't have any problems yeah?" Sighing lightly you leaned against Ajax.

"Once again, that wasn't very welcoming! Didn't I have the same discussion with you when Heizou came to visit?"

"No, it's okay your Grace. I won't ever let any ill intent fall your way. Believe me when I say that I'll keep you safe okay? If it puts any of you at ease, then I'm also very knowledgeable with medicine. If our creator ever got sick - I'd be able to protect and cure them." Friendships were instantly made at this.

"Your Grace... Your Grace…" Kazuha's gentle voice rang out.

"Hm?" You must have finally fallen asleep upon the sofa after hours of talking and bonding.

"Come... Let's get you to bed alright?" You were soon lifted into his arms and carried up toward your room. Opening your eyes a little, you looked up and put your arms around his neck with a sleepy sigh. You didn't miss his light blush and smile at your actions though.

"Kazu… You and 'Nari - will you both stay with me tonight?" Nodding happily he laid you within your bed tucking you in softly.

"Anything for you... Let me go and get him. Don't worry, we'll be right here so rest Okay?" Humming sleepily, you allowed your eyes to slowly shut - the world of dreams awaiting you… Before you fell too deep into the realm of dreams though, you heard a gentle voice once again - different from Kazuhas.

"Goodnight, my flower. I'll be here."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin #xiao x reader #genshin impact creator #zhongli x reader #Tighnari x reader #Tighnari #Sumeru #Sumeru fanfiction #Tighnari fanfiction #Kazuha x reader #Ajax x reader #Thoma x reader #isekai #Isekai genshin #Genshin creator #Genshin creator reader #serenitea pot

[madrasi]

Hi I know you didn’t mean any ill intentions, but that otter “pet” is an example of exotic wildlife pets. Otters aren’t domesticated or anything so they suffer a lot when they’re taken from their natural environments and trapped in a house. There’s also a lot of illegal trade that goes on to support the demand of exotic pets, such as stealing baby animals from their home environment. They don’t thrive and often are mistreated, not fed the correct diet, and die young. I know it seems really cute and happy, and even exotic pets are legal in a lot of places, but the animals are not thriving and doing well. Sharing media of exotic pets being cute just proliferates the idea and encourages others to try and get one. They’re just as cute in their natural environment. There are other ways we can support these animals other than trapping them all alone in an unnatural environment like a house. I don’t mean to flood your inbox or police you, just want to spread some info. I hope you can understand my POV. Thank you for taking the time to read this!!!

Hi Anon. Thank you for taking the time to compose and send me this message. I respect and value your concerns, particularly since I share your love and admiration for animals of all kinds.

I acknowledge and thank that you don’t believe I’m being hateful with intention. But I wonder if reblogging an otter in my personal space is necessarily promoting any idea that exotic animals should be adopted without regard to their basic needs. It might be the simpler alternative: otters are cute. I shared this content with that intention- that too, on the only platform where I’m not posting to necessarily reach an audience, as opposed to someplace more direct, like instagram or Facebook.

I’ve been on this platform for more than ten years. In this time I have, and continue to notice, the violently racist, misogynistic, abusive, and otherwise prejudiced content that is reblogged and shared specifically to promote hateful ideals. I wonder if you take the time to call out every nazi or violently abusive porn blog that uses this platform to promote and share abuse and hate? Because there are a lot.

In that respect, your call-out is policing of a certain kind. Do you flag YouTube blogs where people openly adopt, film, or mistreat exotic animals? Did you report Tiger King when it was aflame on Netflix? Have you reached out to your government to better the laws in your country regarding the adoption and treatment of animals within your country- including for cases of hoarding of domestic pets? And, are you questioning the 33 thousand other users who reblogged this post?

I’m responding and posting this message because I want your background alongside my opinion on the matter to be displayed side-by-side. Again, I respect that you reached out about this because I share your ideals. However, I don’t believe your message fairly reflects my intentions, actions, or the audience intent if someone were to see that post on my blog.

I’d like to add that my tag of choice is “baby”, rather than “pets”- or anything else that implies collectibility, tokenism, or abuse. Because this space is for me to share in my respect and love. Please note that this post is also tagged “baby” so that anyone who may peruse this tag understands my opinions on these matters

I hope this response assuages you, and sets my intentions clearly.

#baby #mine

[pixies-and-poets]

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Four

Woo! Gonna post this as a reward for successfully taking care of my health today :3 Author’s notes:

Days are just drops in the river to be lost always.

This is another light-hearted chapter, nothing to really warn about or explain. It’s also my favorite so far! I hope you enjoy!��

Chapter One

Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four - Lies of Omission 

T. S. Woodrow sat in the lobby of the Portly Pumpkin, on a little sofa by the window. It had only been a couple minutes since the Phantom had gone off to his room to refresh himself for their little tour, but already a maddening impatience had settled into the warden’s very bones, setting his fur on end.

He was not normally an impatient man, nor ever a bored one. Far from it. Because in every moment of silence, of solitude, of quiet, words flowed through his brain, pouring forth endlessly like the rain from his very own cloud companion. Speaking of which- he looked out the window to where she was waiting for him, and gave a little wave. Jinx thundered dully, apparently as restless as he was.

Today, the words could NOT come in. He would not allow them. He had shut the door from his deepest imagination to his conscious awareness, and barred and locked the gate. He wasn’t sure that merely thinking of a poem was enough to cause ill - it usually took reading it aloud, giving it voice, finalizing it - but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Besides, nothing was more agony than to have a piece of art completed, and to be unable to present it, to share it. It was best not to start at all.

Five minutes had passed, and Woodrow found himself staring at the grandfather clock in the corner, watching its pendulum swing, tapping one of his hindpaws on the ground to the rhythm of the ticks. 

Words kept threatening to creep in like a draft under the bottom of the locked door in his brain. Rhymes and metaphors blooming like flowers - a phrase here, which he plucked like a weed; an apt descriptor there which he stamped out like the embers of a flame. And how could it NOT be the case? The moment he had seen him, a thousand words had blossomed in his heart, and the moment he had met his eyes, a million more, and when he said his name, a truly infinite amount, spiraling off into endless fractals. He could keep those poems out of his brain, but not out of his soul. And how was that going to work out for him? Surely he would burst, sooner or later….

Woodrow had drifted off into reverie a bit, and looked back at the clock, hoping the fifteen minutes was almost up. But only seven minutes had passed, now! He glanced around the room - at the bored old innkeeper reading a book behind her desk, not paying him any mind - at the framed and signed photo of Rabbid Peach on the wall, who had stayed there just recently and cemented the B&B’s five-star online rating, at the numerous decorative gourds lining the countertops and the mantelpiece…  

He got up and walked over to the check-in counter. The innkeeper slowly put down her book and looked up at him. “Yessir?”

“Sorry to be a bother, but- would you happen to have some reading material? A brochure of the local attractions, say?”

“Mr. Woodrow, you’re the warden here. Ain’cha know everything that’s anything on this planet already?”

“Well, yes, but- I simply haven’t seen such a brochure in some time, and I’d like to know how we’re advertising ourselves, these days.”

The Rabbid opened a drawer behind her desk, rifled around in it for a moment, and pulled out a small pamphlet. “Here ya go, sir.”

“Thank thee kindly,” he said, taking it and shuffling back to the couch, where he sat down again and began to read through the booklet. Finally, the sweet relief of words to fill his brain, that weren’t his own. Even if they WERE rather clumsily written… and some of the information was out of date… he might have to see about having this revised, after all…

“Monsieur?”

Before Woodrow knew it, the voice he was expecting interrupted his perusal. Such a voice- still so rich and resonant… from merely speaking, you could never tell it was supposedly so damaged. The warden’s ears and eyes perked up, and he closed the brochure and tucked it into his coat. “Hello again, Sir Phantom!” he said, rising to greet the singer. The ghost didn’t look too different from before, but he did seem somehow refreshed, and he smelled subtly of some fine cologne. Woodrow also noted that he had a small black umbrella of his own hooked around his arm.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to see, my honored guest?” asked Woodrow as they stepped outside. He flipped open his own umbrella immediately as his cloud zoomed into place above his head, although she was not raining at the moment.

“Whatever YOU find interesting,” said the Phantom in response. “You must know what is most scenic and delightful to the senses around here, for you have a poet’s view of things, do you not?”

“Oh!” said the warden, as he felt heat rise to his face. “I… suppose you could say that.” He smiled slightly as they walked down the main thoroughfare of Paletteville. The villagers looked up from their business as they passed. “You did say you were familiar with my work…” he began, cautiously. “How familiar?”

“I have read a bit,” said the Phantom, “but not enough! I should like to study your poems more thoroughly-”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” said Woodrow, split between disappointment and relief. Phantom wasn’t THAT big of a fan, then… but that was great, actually! That meant he would probably not care whether Woodrow wrote anything new during his visit. “You must be quite busy. You are a poet yourself, after all! You write some of your own operas, your own lyrics?”

“Indeed. But I find it is hard to summon the inspiration these days, knowing that I cannot sing what I write.” He sighed heavily, and Woodrow frowned as well. It was clearly a sore subject, so he instead gestured towards some of the local buildings and began to describe them - their historical significance, when they were built, if they had taken any damage in the recent Cursa incident and what steps had been taken to repair them, and so on. As he talked about the village and the planet which was his ward, his pride and joy, Woodrow felt confidence come to him; his words came out more smoothly and steadily than they had henceforth, and he began to finally master his own nerves from being in such a majestic presence.

Finally they reached the outskirts of town, and began to walk along the riverbank. Their talk turned to nature; Woodrow taught his guest of the plants and animals they encountered, their names, their behaviors, and many little quirks which he had learned himself by observation.

"You are very knowledgeable about these things," said Phantom, and his guide gave a small, bashful smile.

"Well, 'tis a warden's duty to know their planet. Not just the Rabbids who live there, but all creatures great and small, and the land itself." Also, thought Woodrow, these birds and squirrels are my main audience these days… but the Phantom didn't need to know that. "Besides… I have lived here all my life. Rarely have I left, in fact."

"Many people live their whole life in a place and don’t know it as well as you do," said the singer with a shrug. "Might I ask- oh! Mes étoiles… C’est quoi?!"

The two had rounded a bend, and before them a ways in the distance was the yellow form of the planet’s moon, where it now resided earthbound. Woodrow's heart shot into his throat and his ears pressed themselves backwards.

"That is not a moon, surely?! Does Palette Prime's rest on the ground during the day?"

"Ah- that is the- that is our moon, yes," Woodrow stammered. "But it rises no more. It crashed to the ground, you see, ah, some years ago. And here it remains. The- the local wildlife nibble away at it… and someday we believe there will be nothing left."

"Quelle horreur… How does such a thing even happen?!"

Woodrow was silent for a moment, gripping his umbrella tightly with both paws. "It is simply one of those things," he finally said, cryptically. "It is a peaceful, lovely planet we have. I suppose the price we pay is that sometimes misfortune strikes."

"What a shame," said Phantom with a shake of his head. "I should have liked to wander your streets and trails under the moonlight. I am rather fond of the moonlight, you know - I was born in it."

"I… it is still a moon,” said Woodrow, suddenly terrified by the disappointment in his companion’s voice. “I can take you to it…"

"Ah, worry not, my good man! I did not mean a slight against your fine planet, least of all for a strange disaster that no one could have helped or foreseen. Perhaps one night I shall visit your moon. In fact, its predicament may be a blessing! It shall be lovely to touch it, to lay upon it."

Woodrow imagined the Phantom's large ghostly form, semi translucent in the starlight, with one arm thrown back over his forehead and the other hanging down over the side with his trademark handkerchief, as he lay gently cradled in the crescent of the moon. The very moon he had once brought down with his own doomed love. Something about the image was so striking that he bit his lip. 

"You said that the animals eat it?" Phantom's voice knocked Woodrow out of his mental image.

"Yes…"

"...How does it taste? Is it made of cheese?"

"Oh!" said the Warden, with a startled little laugh. "I, I don't know, I- I've never tried it. …Some people have, though, and I've heard it tastes like baked cheddar, yes."

"Perhaps we shall have us both a nibble, when you take me there."

Woodrow grinned an absolutely foolish grin at the thought, unable to tell if his guest was serious or not- but the ghost was smiling, and soon they were both laughing.

Having crossed the river by a low downstream bridge, they began to make their way back up the opposite side of the riverbank. Their talk turned once more to nature, and a bit of the history of the planet, some of its founding Rabbids, and so forth. Despite the slow pace at which Woodrow's walking speed kept them, it felt like no time at all before they were already nearing the Sweetie Pie Honey Snookums Bridge and approaching the village; luckily so absorbed in conversation that Woodrow didn't even have to explain that it was called the Sweetie Pie Honey Snookums Bridge.

In the distance, visible from the bridge, was the lonely house covered by a perpetual cloud, which Woodrow prayed to the stars his guest would not notice, nor put two and two together with his own constant companion.

Indeed the Phantom seemed not to notice, or perhaps he just was polite enough not to comment. But what he did notice, was something very hard NOT to notice…

"Oh! Mon ami, you have cruise ships docking here?" He was looking out at the very large space-liner resting in the distance. "Although… she seems a bit rusty and disused, to my eye, this one."

"Ahhh," said Woodrow, who had known he would have to explain this sooner or later. "Alas, 'tis not active. That ship has been here a while. She fell out of the sky."

"Like the moon!!" said the Phantom in astonishment. "My word. Is there something amiss with the gravity on this planet?!"

"You could say that!" said Woodrow, feeling warm and hoping a blush wasn't visible. "I suppose it is like I said earlier. The universe must have its balance. Palette Prime would be the loveliest planet in the galaxy, and simply the luckiest, so we must pay for it with the odd disaster now and then. In fact…” said the warden, as something very important occurred to him, “you are most fortunate that I was here to explain all this to you. The people of this planet do not like to talk about such things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! Perhaps it is that we are a superstitious lot, here in the woods. To talk of misfortune might invite more. But really, it is that the people simply do not want to acknowledge or remember when the moon fell, or the Great Tree Blight, or the alien invasion, or the doomstorm, or-”

“The what?!” exclaimed Phantom. “And the… the WHAT?!”

“It was the doomstorm that brought this ship down, and interfered with its engines such that it can no longer run,” the warden said, waving his arm towards the vessel as the two stood on the bridge. “But, again- it is a painful memory for the people of this land. I urge you not to bring it up, or to ask about any such catastrophe. The folk of the planet are quite sensitive to these tragedies, you see. You had best not speak of them.” His cloud let loose a low grumble of thunder and a splatter of rain onto his umbrella, as if to say, you cheeky little liar.

“A doomstorm,” muttered the Phantom with a shake of his head, as they continued onward into the village. “I never would have guessed. I only hope no one was harmed in this crash…”

“Not permanently,” said Woodrow quietly. “Well, not… not harmed, per se. Changed, perhaps.”

“Well, I won’t press the matter. To you, and especially not to anyone else.”

“Most kind of you,” said the warden in gratitude and relief, and soon they were once again on the veranda of the Portly Pumpkin.

“I do hope you enjoyed your tour,” said Woodrow.

“Quite thoroughly,” said the other, with a smile.

The two stood there for a moment, the only noise the chatter of villagers in the distance, the wind in the nearby trees, and the light patter of rain onto Woodrow's umbrella. “Well then, I shall take my leave,” said the warden. “I shall come to your album signing tomorrow, but until then, if you need anything-”

“Actually,” the singer interrupted, “I was hoping you might join me for dinner today. I don’t know any of your local eateries, but the food served in this very establishment is supposed to be quite exceptional, no? But more to the point- I do not yet know anyone else here well enough to dine with, and I should hate to eat alone.”

Woodrow’s ears perked straight up. “Dinner!” he said in astonishment. “O-of course! If you wish…”

“I very much do! So, you will meet me here at six o’clock? It will be my treat.”

“Oh, you certainly don’t have to pay for-”

“But I insist,” said Phantom. “You have been so hospitable thus far, I should like to return the favor. So, will I see you then?”

The warden nodded, and gave another little bow. “Of course, Mr. Phantom. Farewell until the evening.”

As Phantom turned and entered the inn, Woodrow stared after him for a moment. Dinner… was this… did this count as a date? Was it intended as such? Is this… is this the kind of luck he could be having, if he did not write poems? Could he have been having this luck all his LIFE?

No, no, he couldn’t think like that. No point in it, and it was far too distressing to confront. Determined to enjoy his good fortune, he scuttled off towards his errands.

Back in his room, Phantom smiled as he unhooked the umbrella from around his arm, and put it into the stand near the door. He had forgotten he was carrying it, since he hadn’t needed it at all. Indeed, just as the warden had said, the cloud had stayed focused on her old companion.

And why shouldn’t she do so? The thought ran through the Phantom’s mind. Were you yourself not focused on him? Were not his strange mannerisms, his voice, his endearing sincerity and shyness, more fascinating than anything else on the tour?

The realization had dashed through the singer’s brain so fast that he was left blinking in surprise. He had asked the poet to dinner without even really processing why; it just seemed like the thing to do. But now… now he smiled even wider.

He would be counting the hours.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #mario rpgs #fanfic #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #phandrow

[dontfeeltoohot]

JQ or JCB with a fever? They try to brush it off but the other knows better and gets them to rest?

This prompt is everything. Love it! I might have brushed over some of the brushing it off (whoops), it's still there but not a focal point. Still hope you enjoy though! And thanks for being patient, the past few weeks and honestly months have been a little intense.

X X X

Paris is fun the first two days. He and Joseph walk around and do silly tourist things even though both men have been before, wanting to take the quintessential photos with them and the Eiffel Tower and Arc De Triomphe. They eat until they can’t anymore, stomachs full with high end wines, breads, and cheeses. They meet a few fans, but everyone seems to respect the actors wanting space. 

The third day, Jamie wakes up groggy and shivering, despite the blankets on top of them. A dull ache has settled throughout his body while he’s slept, leaving him feeling worn down and heavy. They’re meant to go to a winery and the Lourve, though the thought of being out all day makes Jamie wish they weren’t. An hour later, both he and Joe are pulling on their coats, and he fixes a warm scarf around his boyfriend's neck, making sure it’s covering the pale skin entirely. 

“You’re going to burn me up with all of this,” Joe laughs, wrinkling his nose. 

“Need you to stay warm for me Darling, I’m feeling particularly chilled today, need a space heater,” the blonde teases, voice soft and gentle. 

“I think I can provide sufficient heat,” the younger man nods, running a hand through the other's hair. 

The January air is crisp and biting, and it causes Joe to swear under his breath. Jamie, however, finds that even though the wind makes his entire body tremble, his cheeks feel oddly soothed. The sting of the air is nice and it’s only then that the actor realizes his cheeks feel overly warm. 

Once he notices, the feeling of the heat is uncomfortable. It sits heavily on his cheekbones while they wait for a cab, holding Joe’s gloved hand in his own. By the time they’re walking through the entrance of the Louvre, Jamie’s grateful to get into the slightly warmer building. Sniffling, they pay and start towards the Egyptian area first. The musician’s eyes feel heavy and half lidded as they walk, like he’s been crying heavily even though he hasn’t. 

He moves in a hazy sort of state. His body feels as though it’s floating while he tries to focus on the art and artifacts, nodding along when Joe talks. His boyfriend pauses their perusement before they hit the fourth installment, frowning as he runs a hand down his arm. 

“You alright? You seem..miles away, which is unlike you, especially in a museum,” he says cheekily. 

Jamie feels miles away. He shivers again and shrugs, gearing up for an apology but the curly haired man steps closer and presses a cold hand onto his cheek and then his forehead. The blonde lets out a breathy noise, leaning in. 

“Love…you’re burning. You must feel shattered.” 

The urge to reassure the younger man bubbles up inside his too warm body, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. He wants to promise Joe that he’s perfectly alright and they can continue. Instead, his mouth starts talking before his brain can catch up. 

“Mm…maybe a little. Mostly tired and heavy,” another shiver crawls through his body, making his shoulders tremble. 

“Let’s head back. We’ll get some good room service; bundle you up. I’m sure I can find a thermometer somewhere, they’ll have one at the front desk I’m sure. Poor thing.” 

Joe’s fingers run through Jamie’s hair, and the taller of the two leans in, accepting the soft comfort and vulnerability. He really does feel gross, and the thought of crawling back in bed for the remainder of the day with his partner sounds far better than walking around. 

“Sure. Sounds lovely, if I’m honest.” 

“You must be ill,” Joe teases him, but there’s worry behind his eyes. 

“I’ll be alright, I have you taking care of me, Darling.” 

As promised, they end up back in the comfortable king sized bed, Jamie wrapped up in blankets. His cheeks are red and there are darkening smudges under his tired eyes, but he still has a smile on his face. Joe’s walking over with a plastic thermometer, swiftly placing it under the other’s tongue when it’s on and ready. Jamie knows better than to talk, so he waits quietly until it beeps. 

“38.5 (101.4) degrees. Far too high to be doing anything but napping and cuddling. How do you feel aside from the fever?” 

“A bit knackered, honestly. Achy, throat’s a touch sore. Head’s hurting.” 

“Then rest. I’m going to shower then come cuddle, yeah?” 

By the time Joe’s showered and changed, Jamie’s asleep, small snuffles sounding out every once in a while. The younger man crawls into bed and turns the television on, turning the volume down, and lets himself relax, knowing Jamie will be out for a while. 

#my fic #jq #jcb

[griancraft]

A mutual here who wants to stay anon but uh how did you figure out you were a system? Because sometimes I am not sure if I may be or not or how to even broach that question with my therapist. No obligation to share if you're not comfortable though.

Okay so I’m so sorry this is messy it’s hard to articulate. I’m not satisfied with this at all actually but it’s fine it’s fine ill answer questions that lead off from this

I figured out I was a system very very incidentally. I have been experiencing what I now know were headmates on and off since I was 7. I won’t bring up what because I don’t feel comfortable sharing. I just remember them “taking the reigns” when I was stressed, upset, or otherwise needed help. As well as there being things I don’t remember now that I know happened. As in. Trauma.

At age 16 I went through a pretty heavy experience that fucked me up. I’m not even sure if I’m the same person in a literal sense as I was back then. After the trauma, I experienced a lot of memory loss and other little things. Heavy disssoiation as well. I believed I had a ghost following me around when things would go missing and move around. I remember one time I thanked the ghost, and it never happened again. See, the point of a system is that the host isn’t really supposed to know. So despite the fact I was 100% a system and gained alters before I found out I had no clue. At all. Partially because I am oblivious to all hell.

I found out because our ranboo fronted and was. Terrible at it. I love her a lot but she is terrible at masking.

We were watching GTWSs MCC and I started dissociating really bad, and got a pressure above my eye. Blah blah blah, it got really bad, and she co cofronted. We bled into each other and when I saw fanart we went “oh! Me!” And I panicked to say the least!!

Basically I was panicking and texted all my system friends and eventually she calmed me down and explained that yes we were a system and it was just her and I (a lie. At the time we had Dandelion and Tommy. She just wanted to protect them.) So. It wasn’t me coming to some grand conclusion after gathering proof for a while it was me bumping into our Ranboo fictive and leaving her stumbling headfirst into the curtain that was systemhood and ripping it down from the wall. It want the most fun experience to start! Tommy didn’t talk to me for months because I was an asshole about systems when we first formed him nearly a year prior to that point. Dandelion was standoffish and cruel. Ranboo was trying to keep it all together and make sure we didn’t fall and fail and die etc etc. now everyone functions nicely and we have a working dynamic between all of us but that took a lot of communication.

If you can figure it out in a nice, smooth way that’s awesome. I don’t know how to help with that :,)

It sounds very much like you are trying to peruse a diagnosis a little? I won’t fault you for that but please know there is nothing inherently wrong with self diagnosing. Just remember that symportms DO cross over and be willing to pivot.

Actual diagnosis is something I personally will never do. Not because I don’t want to but due to societal stigma and the chance it has to affect things in the future.

This is very very anecdotal and I encourage you to ask yourself but I was told by a previous therapist (a shitty one, but a therapist) that diagnosis of DID or psychosis will not allow you to medically transition. Please take this weigh a grain of salt as he was a. Outdated man.

As a final note. You don’t need to in order to use resources for systems!!! I will never get an official diagnosis because it will 100% affect my ability to get a job. we are pretty functional, so I see no need. I still use PK and simply plural, and talk to people about my experiences though!

Even if you are wrong, you used resources that helped you at the time. And there is nothing wrong with that.

#ask me system stuff #important

[sombreboy]

Daffodil nightmares✾kth [E]

PART TWO [FINAL] | READ PART ONE HERE. | READ ON AO3  ✾ 18+ Explicit content  ✾ xtremity; 9 ✾ pairing: Murder suspect!Yandere!Taehyung x Therapist!Female ✾ word count: 18k ✾ warnings: Mental illness, mentions of murder, heavy dubcon bordering noncon, sadistic/manipulative/possessive!Tae, masochistic!therapist, mentions of medication/drugs, profanity, degrading dirtytalk, rough/painful sex, marking/biting, choking, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, crying, so much cum her womb swells at some point, angst, violence towards art :( 

This fiction contains deranged desires and morals, please check all the warnings before you read.

A/N: The sequel has finally arrived. It’s been a thrill to write this with 🍁anon, who is such a lovely and amazing writer. I’m honored to have created this with them, and I’m excited to finally share this with everyone who’s been anticipating part two. Also a big thank you to @chimoona​​ for making the banner, cheering me on and helping me finish this up when I felt like my brain was going to wither away. Please let me know if you love it and how it made you feel. xoxo

A week had passed by since the hearing, and it went rather smoothly. His lawyer, Jimin, easily got him into the facility after winning his case, and Taehyung was content with the fact that he’d get to see his daffodil more frequently.

Two more days passed after he arrived, and he was eager to finally see her again. But when he was greeted with a different face his heart had dropped to his gut.

The Chief Doctor, Kim Namjoon, had taken him in for the past week, and slowly, Taehyung had gone backwards into the silent, isolated man he once was.

He refused to communicate with Namjoon, only making the process more difficult. It even took a good five days before they had to force him to take the first dose of his prescribed medications.

Another week passed by, and Taehyung was feeling betrayed by her. His heart was torn into pieces, and his eyes were lifeless. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs, or because of her. Maybe both.

His usual routine of therapy was coming around, and he was guided into the now familiar room in the facility. He hated it, being reminded every single day that she wasn't going to be there, and instead expecting Namjoon to walk in through the door any second. 

While seated on the couch, hands clasped together and eyes dead staring into his lap, he didn’t even bother to lift his gaze when the door opened, not noticing that this time, it wasn’t Namjoon who stepped inside…

After her last visit to Taehyung, she spent the rest of the days anticipating the outcome of his hearing. Jimin had called her first, proud about how he had yet another successful case on his list. She'd heard nothing beyond how Taehyung would soon be moved to their facility to get his treatment for the next two years according to his verdict. She was quick to share the news with Namjoon who merely nodded thoughtfully as he perused the copy of Taehyung's report and then at her, with an unreadable look on his face. 

The next day, she had been informed Taehyung was transferred to Namjoon's care. And as much as she had wanted to confront him about making that decision without her input, she'd let it pass knowing very well how difficult Taehyung would be to Namjoon. And as expected, she was soon summoned by their Chief to retake the case on strict orders that she wouldn't personally get involved.

Namjoon had this knowing look in his eyes when he warned her and she begrudgingly agreed knowing what it meant. He'd supervise some of her sessions with Taehyung to make sure she followed the rules. Maybe that's exactly what she needed to know her place as his doctor and nothing more.

Stepping into the bright therapy room that was so different from where she'd met him, her eyes curiously rove over his slouched form against the couch. The carpet muffles the click of her heels as she makes her way towards him with a tentative grin.

"Heard you were giving Namjoon a hard time..." She pipes up, trying to keep the joy she felt at seeing him again out of her voice. "He's a lot better at this than me, you know, Taehyung?"

Taehyung looked up in her direction, eyes widening for a second before they squinted at her, as if he’s not quite sure whether she was actually there, or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

“You..?” The first words to ever leave his lips since he came to the facility, Namjoon's eyebrows raising as he’s been struggling the entire week to even get a nod or a crooked eyebrow from the man.

Her eyes are quick to note Namjoon's expression before she focuses her attention back on Taehyung, giving him an encouraging nod. "Yeah... It's me! It's really me." She says twice, her fingers curling around the notebook she holds to prevent herself from reaching out to him in reassurance. And she hopes Taehyung doesn't do anything that might further Namjoon's suspicion.

Taehyung seemed to finally be aware of his surroundings, seeing Namjoon's stature in his peripheral vision as he kept his eyes fixed on her. His gaze softened, but there was a stern expression on his face, lips pressed together in a tight line. He crossed his arms over his chest, the familiar action of his when he felt uncomfortable, thus less willing to communicate.

The flash of recognition is all she gets before Taehyung closes off again, making her seethe in silence at Namjoon's callousness. All the progress she made with him over their sessions at the prison, he'd managed to crumble it in one go and was expecting her to begin from scratch again.

She doesn't hide her annoyance when she throws a look at Namjoon over her shoulder as she moves to take the chair next to Taehyung, leaving the Chief doctor standing awkwardly by the door. She'd go about this the most general way until Namjoon left himself.

"Hey... how are you finding yourself at the facility? Do you like it so far?"

Taehyung's eyes avoided hers, however, they followed her feet until she was seated next to him. Feeling her closer, his tension seemed to fade, but only barely. His gaze returned to his own lap, arms still tightly holding himself before giving a subtle shrug, only noticeable if to eyes that were sharp enough to pay attention. And he knew she’d be the one to notice it.

She was so attuned to every single flicker of emotion in him by now, be it in his face or body, she's quick to catch the insignificant shrug of his shoulders which makes her sigh. So he'd decided to be a lot more stubborn than usual and she can't help but feel it was partly her fault even if it was mostly due to Namjoon's presence. She had abandoned him to someone else's care after all without even a fight, when she'd promised to care for him herself.

"Taehyung, if we are to work on your therapy, I'm going to need more than just a shrug." She tells him pointedly, her eyes glancing at Namjoon once. "Is there anything that's making you uncomfortable here?"

Taehyung breathes out a sigh through his nose, lifting his gaze to look at Namjoon's feet. He pressed his lips together tighter, a small nod serving as his next reply.

He really didn’t like Namjoon. The man was intelligent, calm and probably a great doctor. But he wasn’t her. And he didn’t make him feel like a person, merely a patient that he had no contact with. Just another name on his list of people throughout his day. 

But as previously mentioned, he still wasn’t her.

Languidly, she inclines her head towards Namjoon, her eyes urging him to get lost before his presence irked her patient any more. Namjoon merely gives her a blank look in return, jerking his head towards the door and letting her know he wanted to have a word before he left.

"I'll be back in a moment, Taehyung." She excuses herself, standing up to follow Namjoon out the door without another word. As soon as the door closes, Namjoon steps into her space with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Do you really think he'd open up more without me around?" There was a sense of apprehension in his tone, making her exhale loudly.

"I know he will. He's a lot more chatty when I ask the right questions. You don't have to worry!" Her words come out clipped, still feeling miffed from when he took Taehyung away.

"It's not him I'm worried about..." A hand comes to rest on her cheek making her look up, her eyes finally softening at his obvious concern. She was aware of the fact that he took over Taehyung's case only to show her he cared, in his own way.

"We've been over this already, Joon. Some of my patients need that extra care even if you don't approve of my methods. I promise I'm not getting emotionally involved or anything." She lies through her teeth, her gaze fixed upon his.

With a soft trace of his thumb across her cheek, Namjoon drops his hand.

"Fine! I won't question you again as long as you keep your promise." He relents with a pout. "Do you maybe want to meet up over dinner?" He asks after, his voice suddenly unsure, making her want to coo at his sudden bout of shyness. 

"Of course!" She replies with a smile, not having the heart to turn him down again. Once he leaves, she steps back inside the room, a lot more relaxed this time as she approaches Taehyung.

"So, where were we?" She doesn't hide the happiness this time around from her voice as she takes the chair next to him.

Taehyung's head jerks up to look at her again, this time slightly more comfortable without the other male observing them. His eyes were however laced with something darker, raking her up and down before pursing his lips, “What are you happy about?” 

How could she be smiling? She left him. Betrayed him. And now she came back as if everything was just—-fine?

She is so pleased at having his eyes upon hers again without his earlier sense of detachment, that she fails to see the anger lurking in its depth. She almost voices out how she was happy about going for dinner with Namjoon until she realizes she was in front of Taehyung.

Clearing her throat, she words her reply carefully.

"I'm glad that the Chief let me be your personal therapist again. Aren't you happy to see me, Tae?"

“You abandoned me.” Taehyung stared her down, no sign of anything but darkness in his eyes. He leaned back into his seat, his arms hugging himself tighter, as if to keep himself in control. Grounded. “You said two days.”

He didn’t even care if it wasn’t her fault. She promised, and he trusted her. 

Did Namjoon keep her from him? Was he the problem?

Her smile drops instantly from her lips as she watches him dissociate himself furthermore, making her grapple for a plausible explanation to appease him. And that's when she makes her first mistake.

"Taehyung, I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned. I swear..." She moves closer, placing her hand near him as she tries to look past the darkness hiding the real emotions in his eyes.

"It was a decision made by the higher ups. I couldn't exactly say no to the Chief without losing my job. Not when I know he's better than me. We only want you to have the best here. Even Joon... I'm so sorry!"

His arms were trembling as he was struggling to keep himself from her, internally wishing she’d move away before he gave in to his desire to touch her. He breathed heavily through his nose once more, eyes trained on her face to try to dissect her expression, even if his own was the one blank.

"They... took you from me. And put me with a male doctor that just wants me to be heavily med-..medicated.. " he slurred his last word, proving his point exactly. Even if the first few weeks were a very low dosage compared to what the full one by next month would be, it did affect him a little. He had less anxiety, less energy-- but his desires for her were not as affected.

Without a second thought, she moves next to him on the couch taking his shivering hands in hers, thinking it was due to the drugs and looks past his choice of words of how he thought they took her from him. That was her second mistake.

"Taehyung, no..." Her voice is soft, gently coaxing him to give her any reaction other than careful blankness. "They thought Namjoon would be able to help you better than me. He is my senior for a reason." She squeezes his hands as if trying to get her point across. "I'm really sorry if you felt betrayed, but from now on I'll be your only attending therapist. I promise..."

By now, comforting Taehyung had become an innate need within her that she no longer cared about what way he perceived it as long as he didn't reject her help.

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet hers, his hands trembling in her grasp. When he felt her reassuring squeeze, the voice in his head started to whisper things, the earnestness in her eyes drawing him in. And as if she was his source of gravity, he didn't hesitate to pull her in by her hands, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss. He needed to feel her again, he's missed it, craved it for the entire time spent apart. He was mad, furious that he didn't get to see her for too long.

The barely there flash of emotion in Taehyung's eyes is her only warning before she goes crashing into his chest and his lips capture hers in a punishing kiss. Wasn't he supposed to be weakened by medication? She pushes against him and even twists her body trying to wrench herself free knowing the unrepressed anger she felt through his kiss won't bode well for her. But his hold on her is too strong to fight off and after a moment of struggle, she stops, hoping her passiveness was enough to make him let her go and remains unresponsive to his kiss.

Taehyung indulges in her lips, humming in content as he keeps her tightly in place against his body. The warmth he's missed for what felt like an eternity was satisfying, yet riling his darker side up. Her unresponsiveness didn't matter, he was simply happy to taste her once more, feeding into the addiction that is her. But eventually, he withdrew, his hold on her hands still intact, gaze intense as he looks at her, ''I missed you.''

She breathes in relief when he eventually backs off, trying one last time to pull her hands free unsuccessfully. Letting her eyes slowly trail up from their hands, to his chest, before coming to rest on his face, she resists a shudder at his burning stare. The darkness in them has returned, not yet shrouding his gaze entirely, but nearly there. Shaking her head, she turns away to look anywhere but directly at him.

"Taehyung... You— we can't do this. Not anymore! I told you the last two times were a mistake. You need to stop! This is going to be a problem if Namjoon or anyone finds out."

Taehyung sighs, leaning in closer, breath fanning the skin on her cheek as she looks away, ''You want me to stop?..''

A hint of mischief sparked in his eyes. Fine, if that's what she wanted, maybe he'd simply comply. Because that would be the least probable thing she'd expect of him. Merely, a trick of the mind, testing his therapist-- being on the receiving end of the nonchalance regarding their.. complicated relationship.

Taehyung loosened his grip until her hands were free, leaning back into his own seat, crossing one leg over the other as he lets his hands settle on his thighs, ''Then, let's begin the session, daffodil.''

She jerks back from him in surprise when he gives in to her rather easily. At the very least, she expected him to make a fuss about it. But this— the glint in his eyes is new, making her wonder what she missed out on over the course of time he was under Namjoon's care. Time to find out...

She moves into her chair, a lot more comfortable than the ones at the prison, and leans back keeping steady eyes on him. Choosing to ignore the new nickname he had for her, she clears her throat as she picks up her discarded notebook.

"So, Taehyung..." Her gaze flickers over his relaxed form warily. "How has your stay been here so far?"

Taehyung tilts his head forward, his overgrown fringe dangling over his tired eyes. A soft hum vibrated in his throat, shoulders shrugging vaguely at the question. It was rather dumb, she must know it was absolute hell for him without her.

“So and so.” He says quietly.

Resisting the urge to click her tongue at the return of his vagueness, she moves a little forward in her seat, trying to keep her frustrations in check. 

"I need precise answers, Tae. It was different back at the prison, I merely had to diagnose your condition for the case. If you want to be cured and leave the facility, you need to be much clearer than that." Her tone comes out clipped at his dispassionate response, something in her goading her on to provoke the fire back in the deep embers of his eyes cause he no longer resembles either of the versions she knew.

Mentally shaking herself away from that thought, "Let's try this again... How do you feel about your verdict? Do you think it's reasonable enough?"

Taehyung rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, prodding the flesh as he's thinking over his answer, ''My verdict.... Could you remind me?''

A smug grin pulls on his lips, playing this little game of his reminded him of how fun it was to frustrate her, the struggle he puts her through is a part of the reason he likes her. She's feisty if provoked, and.. Just hearing her voice was already making him feel better.

She begins tapping the end of her pen against the notebook as she regards him and his arrogance with a frosty glare.

"You want a reminder of how they pronounced you not guilty despite the extent of your crimes, all because they believed you were capable of improving with the right treatment? Do you think this is all a joke, Taehyung?" She sits up straight, snapping her notebook shut as she's reminded of Namjoon's concern earlier when he came to her about how Taehyung wasn't responding well like expected to the treatment. 

"If you keep up with this attitude, I won't feel guilty about leaving you back under Namjoon's or someone else's care." Her patience can only run so far, especially when he was purposefully being a prick about it.

Taehyung nods with a hum, yet his mischievous expression remains. He enjoyed the emotions he seemed to be able to pull out of her, whether they were positive or negative.

''I just wanted to hear it from you. I'm sorry.'' And there it was, the low, soft voice he knew she couldn't be mad at, manipulating her emotions little by little. ''They said some of my medication will take months before it does anything, but some I can already tell are taking effect.''

He was aware that she probably already knew, but it was at least something he could talk about. 

He's given testosterone suppressants to reduce the intensity and frequency of his sexual desires. However, it would take months before it would actually make a real difference. 

Another medication that would take its effect quicker within a few weeks, was the antipsychotics. Supposedly, they'd help calm his.. delusions.

He really didn't like the feeling. Almost numbing, so he naturally fought it. He just wanted to be himself, not who he’d become when he’s fed with drugs. The voice in his head became sleepier, but it wasn't gone.

So, frustrating his therapist kept that part of him alive, he wanted her to keep him alive.

''My verdict... I find it reasonable. But... I feel.. Uncomfortable?'' He pursed his lips in thought, his eyes squinted as he focused his gaze on the table, ''Like the medications create a layer around my feelings, numbing them.''

Her heart thaws mildly at the sound of his apology but refuses to show it on her face, knowing by now how he chose to play her weakness for him against herself. Closing her eyes firmly, she wills her annoyance away before facing him again with a clearer head.

"Considering your situation," she begins in a much calmer voice, "—and the reason why you were brought in, I'd say your verdict was pretty... lenient. It's more than just reasonable!" She points out, for the first time giving her own opinion on where he was involved. "But it's welcome nonetheless, for it could've been worse. We all only want you to get better, I guess..." 

Clicking her pen open, she starts scribbling down her notes, taking her eyes away from him for a brief moment. As much as she didn't want to assume he was telling her about the drugs to make her feel sorry and do something regarding it, she wouldn't put it past Taehyung.

"As for the medication, you're required to take them in specified doses to help you, Tae. Your feelings aren't your own right now. They're a conflict between yours and this... other side that forces you to do things against your will." She gestures around with her hands, trying to explain how the medications were actually a good thing for him. "The drugs aid in suppressing those abnormal instincts. This haze you feel is only a temporary consequence. Once you learn how to overcome those urges, we can always reduce the dosage and slowly take you off the medication completely." She flashes him a smile as if in reassurance, completely slipping back into her therapist mode.

"Other than that, how has your move here been so far? Namjoon was pretty upset about how you wouldn't let him treat you, you know?" She softly laughs at that, fondly remembering Joon's pouty face from that morning when he accepted defeat and approached her about Taehyung.

Taehyung hums as he nods, letting her know that he's listening to her every word.

"It is much more comfortable than prison," a soft sigh rolled off his lips, a content smile at the thought of how he gave Namjoon a hard time, "I don't trust him."

He only trusted her. His therapist. His.

Namjoon was indeed a great doctor, but Taehyung easily shut down. And so far, he's learned that the only person he wanted to ‘treat’ him-- was her. Well, he didn't really want to be treated.... he just wanted her. That's all it came down to.

Her eyes darted back to him at the obvious dislike in his tone, her smile slowly slipping off her lips. There was also this faint presence of smugness in the way he smirked, as if he was pleased with his actions that gave her a pause to reconsider her next track of questions.

"Namjoon is..." She begins haltingly, knowing she can't say something that'd likely set him off with her little crush on the said Chief doctor. "—he is one of the best doctors we have at the facility. And a lot more qualified than me to treat you, if I'm being honest. Is there a particular reason why you don't trust him?" She draws one of her legs over the other, crossing them at her thighs to lean back comfortably into the quilted chair.

Taehyung's lips formed into a small pout at the way she praised Namjoon, but didn't put a lot of weight on the thought. However, the question did give him something to think about for a moment, his eyes unable to focus on one spot as they flickered around the room.

''He is indeed a good doctor... But he's incredibly boring.'' His eyes finally found hers, a crooked eyebrow showing his vague attitude, ''You're much more fun.''

She patiently looks on, noting how his eyes flit around trying to find the answer to her question and finally finds her own as if she were his polestar, making her breath hitch slightly, and not in a good way. Especially when it came along with that comment from him.

"Fun?" She raises a single brow up at that, leaning on the armrest of her chair. "So you made his life difficult, just because you think I'm much more fun?"

Successfully resisting the scoff she was about to utter at the ridiculousness of that statement, she stands up from the chair.

"Taehyung, I feel like you and I have very different ideas about why you're here in the facility. We're here to treat you and not for your entertainment." Leaving her notebook on the desk, she steps closer to him pulling the sleeves of her stark white scrub up.

"Let's try this again..." She moves the table with a few instruments closer to him. "I'm going to take your vitals. But before, did you take your post-breakfast medication today?" She asks him with a skeptical look.

''I did,'' Taehyung nods, his gaze observing the tools laying on the small table. His least favourite part of being here is the medical stuff. From swallowing pills, to having his body checked. Call him childish, but it is just the way he's wired. It's like the dentist, he despises it just as much.

But, since it was her, his own doctor doing it, he felt more at ease, not putting any resistance in his behavior. The sooner it's over, the sooner they can get back to doing what he enjoys most; having a conversation with his therapist.

Well, there were other things he much preferred doing with her, but one can't have it all at once, can they? It's been too long, though..

She finds it hard to trust his words now, the puzzle pieces to his case coming together a little more clearly than before. Taking his temperature first, she hesitates a brief second before she takes his right hand in hers and pushes the sleeves up.

"I just need to get your blood pressure," she tells him in a dull tone, her eyes straying everywhere but his gaze as she methodically looks for his pulse with her fingers tracing over his warm skin. Once she finds it, she pumps the air quickly into the cuff and presses her stethoscope to his pulse to get his heart rate as the air slowly deflates. But the pointer in the dial gives her a pause when it displays a higher rate than normal, making her wrench the steth out of her ears and seek his pulse again on his wrist this time.

"Are you sure you took your medicines?" She asks again, her voice sounding more concerned now. The drugs should've technically induced drowsiness in him, slowing down his heart rate. "Your heart rate is nowhere near normal, Tae... have you been sleeping properly?"

Was he skipping his meds? Was he having adverse reactions to them instead? A million thoughts flash through her mind and she fails to see his reaction throughout it all.

Taehyung had been indulged in the feeling of her fingers tracing his skin that he barely heard her questions, his eyes snapping in her direction, widening at her disbelief in him.

''I swear I took them.'' He did, he wasn't lying... But it didn't stop the fact that her touch affected him so easily, the blood flow in his body was rushing with the way his heart started to race. He took a slow, deep breath to calm himself down, squeezing his nose bridge in frustration at the small voice still wanting to have its say, whether it was slightly numb or not. As his chest pounded heavier, the voice grew louder.

 She lets out a low frustrated groan under her breath. It just wasn't her day. The entire week, actually. Not ever since Namjoon tossed her schedule and plans out of the window in a need to prove himself. The fondness she'd been feeling earlier dissipated in a mere second and snapped her focus back on Taehyung, noting his tense muscles and closed eyes.

Not that she trusted him completely when he said he took his meds, but his voice sounded sincere. And from experience, she knew she was the last person Taehyung would lie to. A quick tap at her tab lets her pull up his records from that morning and she sees he was indeed given the required doses of his prescribed drugs. 

Dropping it back on the table, she sits down next to him seeing how her own agitation was causing him distress.

"Taehyung... look at me, I'm sorry!" She calms her voice down to a soft murmur, taking his wrist between hers once again. "Just keep your eyes on me okay? And follow my breathing pattern. In—" she inhales deeply, holding it in for a few seconds and then very slowly breathes it out. "Out!" Her fingers go from checking his pulse to gently stroking her thumb along it in a soothing motion, hoping whatever it was that's troubling him would pass on.

He follows her instructions, taking a deep breath. In--- Fuck, her scent is lovely--- and out, he slowly exhales with her, eyes fixated on her delicate fingers around his wrist. It was kind of working, he calmed down. The voice retreated, but he felt it lingering, as if it was waiting to surprise... even him.

When she feels his pulse beat back down slowly to a regular rhythm, she sags a bit against the reclined couch he was sitting upon in relief. She might have to look into his medications again with Namjoon and see if they can switch anything around to not have this happen again.

''Doctor,'' His voice was low, concentrated on her hand. He didn't want her to stop, so without thinking, he slowly lets his fingers intertwine with hers, ''Let me hold your hand.''

Taehyung couldn't resist.

She hums when he calls out for her, one hand still staying to stroke his wrist while she picks up the discarded tab to record his blood pressure and pulse rate, albeit she almost drops the tab again at his question and the way his fingers snake in between hers.

Her gaze flickers down to their hands, not immediately rejecting his advances even if she knew she should. "Tae," She begins a softly placating voice, "I don't think it's a good idea. What if Joon... or someone comes in? They might get the wrong idea."

Taehyung pursed his lips at her words, but he didn't withdraw his hold around her hand.

''What idea? We're not doing anything bad...'' It was purely innocent, right? He was just holding her hand... He's done it before.

Well, last time might've ended up differently-- but he's good now. He's medicated. He's fine.

He lifted his gaze to find hers, a smile adorning his lips followed with the small spark of mischief swirling in his eyes, ''We're just holding hands.''

"A doctor doesn't just hold a patient's hand randomly for the entire session..." She sighs, knowing it would only prove to be useless to argue against his words. At the little flash of mischief glinting in the corner of his eyes, she was a goner even before she could acknowledge how very much he looked like a curious child right then.

"Fine! But just hand holding and nothing more, okay?" She says to make sure he doesn't get any other idea into his head just because she gave in to him one more time.

Letting him keep a hold on her hand firmly, she reaches over with some difficulty to grab her note off her chair and pulls it to her lap just when her tab buzzes with a message from a colleague, which she ignores in her efforts to do everything single handedly.

"Alright, apart from boring sessions with Namjoon and draining medication, did you find any other change in yourself?"

She’s not just a doctor, he mused. And surely, they've done much worse.

''Look at it as a way to calm me down..'' He smirks subtly, but his lips fall back into a neutral state at her following questions. Any other changes? Not really... But also, yes.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, gaze falling back to roaming the room as he's considering his next words, ''Nightmares.'' The way he says it was more like a sigh, eyes once again flickering between objects in the room as his mind seems to scatter, ''I sleep more, but I have nightmares.''

Feeling his focus slip away once again, she promptly squeezes his hand to bring him back to her at the mention of his nightmares. A frown curls around her lips, gaze tracing over his features in obvious concern that may or may not go beyond that of just a therapist.

"What kind of nightmares? Do you remember them when you wake up or is it just an intuition?"

Taehyung slouches down in his seat, trying to feel the material pressing against his back as an addition to the pressure she provided on his hand to keep him grounded. His gaze quivers as it finds his doctor once more, ''Both? Most of is just... words.''

Words, as in, the voice. As the medication had toned down the monster within his awoken state, it had gotten incredibly loud during sleep. And it was scary, because he looked just like Taehyung himself. It is a part of Taehyung. Or is it Taehyung? He started having trouble separating the two.

''I don't like it, I think it's the meds. I never had nightmares before, doctor.''

 "Words?" Her brows furrowed together in mild confusion when he mentions it. "Do you mean you hear them?" Her free hand flies down to write it all down while her brain tries to think of a way to help him through what she definitely deemed as progress unlike what he thought. 

"Taehyung, I want you to carefully think about these dreams and tell me why they make you feel this way." Feeling his hand tremble slightly in her hold, she moves closer, shushing him like she would a spooked child, almost letting him lean into her side for comfort. 

"I know it might seem scary..." Her voice turns into that of gentle coaxing. "And I know you blame the meds for it. But I think your alter ego is trying to threaten your subconscious cause it can no longer control your conscious thoughts. I cannot be sure until I know what you hear and see in your dreams, though."

''I don't remember everything, doctor..'' Taehyung furrows his eyebrows in thought, squeezing his eyes shut to try to recall his dreams, ''It's really blurry.. But..'', He pauses to look at her, ''This voice, it's... just my own-- but it doesn't feel like my own.. it tells me to ..stop?'' He nods, confirming his own words, ''I need to stop taking the meds. We-...I don't like them.''

Her spine straightens up alertly as she catches him uttering 'we' before he corrects himself, almost proving her perception right. As much as she wanted to counter his thoughts and explain what he's feeling was actually good, she purses her lips instead to keep their sessions as professional as possible.

"We can work on substituting or reducing your dosage, but I can't take you off medications unless I'm actively going against your court order. But you have to understand this voice is only trying to stop you from taking them because it feels threatened..." Exhaling a long drawn out breath, her shoulders slouch as she bends her head to look him in the eye properly. He looked tired but a lot healthier than he was in the prison. His warm brown eyes looked lighter despite the lifelessness about them, with no sign of the darkness consuming his thoughts anymore.

"Do you not see it for yourself, Tae? You're sleeping better than before. There has been no sign of the other side when you're awake. The drugs are helping you keep it under control." She bites her lip in thought before asking the next question, her tone almost hesitant. "Tell me, have you had those... urges recently?" It was a dangerous thing to ask, but she wanted to prove it to him that she was right.

Taehyung's eyes refuse to meet hers at the question, dipping his head lower to let his gaze stay fixed on his lap. He did feel something when his therapist touched his skin. He did feel the monster inside of him react, the urge for it to take over was there. It wasn’t as strong as before.

''I don't know. I don't think so..?''

He was lying without knowing. If the voice inside of him had a face, a wolfish sneer would adorn its lips.

Her entire posture instantly relaxes as a smile breaks out on her lips at his reply. His tone sounded sincere enough, albeit a little lost, for her to suspect anything.

"See, that's it! You are capable of resisting those temptations. This is good progress when we haven't even started your behavioural therapy yet." Her fingers quickly jot down every detail of their conversation so far, the smile never leaving her lips. Other than the kiss he forced upon her from misguided feelings, she believes he didn't feel anything even remotely sexual towards her.

"Despite me holding your hand right now, you're sure you don't feel it anymore do you?" She asks him again carefully, knowing it can't go down in the records, but she needed to make sure.

Taehyung looks down at their joined hands, giving it a small squeeze to check for himself.

Huh.

''I guess not.'' He loosens his grip, letting his fingers smooth against hers before pulling away, something he knows he wouldn't normally want to do.

Huh.

That was almost too easy. Something about that makes him feel... weird. He missed the way his body would feel electrified by her touch.

"Excellent!" She mumbles watching his hands slide out of her grip and away, the entire motion leaving her feeling something akin to bereft, as if he didn't need her anymore. But she chooses not to indulge in her emotions, shifting her focus upon him once more.

"In my opinion, we should continue with your medication as it is now. Maybe reduce it once your nightmares decrease..." She picks up her tab, not moving away from despite not being held back anymore. "I'll have to talk to Namjoon about it, but—" 

She misses her track of words when her eyes find Namjoon's message, politely asking to meet her for lunch instead of dinner because he couldn't wait. Snorting softly, she looks at the time. It was almost lunch hour. Maybe she should just show up and surprise him in his office instead of replying to his message. She puts the tab away with a smile, tilting her head to face Taehyung again.

"It's time for your lunch and medication again, Tae. Is there anything else you want to discuss before tomorrow's session?"

Taehyung glances at the tab as he notices how she smiles at it, it couldn't possibly be because of something she wrote down. He didn't like it, because he wasn't able to find out what it was for. 

At her question, he straightens his posture a bit, shaking his head, ''No.... Nothing.''

Easing off the couch with a few pats on his knee, she stands up to move the table away and sets everything back to normal on the desk. Facing away from him, she pulls off her scrubs and fluffs her hair a bit to make herself presentable.

"Come on, then! I'll bring you back to your room before I go for my lunch..." She tells him, glancing over her shoulder. It was unusual for doctors themselves to lead their patient back to their rooms, but she found herself not caring given her good mood. Moving towards the door, she almost forgets her tab laying beside Taehyung. "Oh! Can you bring that along as well, Tae? I need to discuss your medication with Namjoon while we're at it."

Taehyung's attention turns towards the tablet on the table as he stands up, bending over to take it into his hands. He was a bit surprised that she offered to walk him to his room, but he really had no reason or will to protest. He enjoyed all the time he'd get with her.

Call him curious, but as he picks the tablet up, he inspects it, as if he's never seen such a device before. Of course he had, but he wasn't entirely familiar with tech devices these days. He keeps it in his hand as he catches up with his doctor, a small smile on his face. This was the first time they'd be walking anywhere together, or be anywhere but in a therapy room for that matter.

She watches on as he seems to look over her tab interestedly, making her smile at the way his innocence shines through in such small gestures. If only everyone can see what she saw in him, they wouldn't take him for the monster he definitely wasn't. Sighing deeply, she opens the door and waits for him, signaling to the nurses in waiting that she got this and sends them away. When he finally joins her, she takes her tab from him and stacks it on top of the files and notebook in her hand with a grateful smile. Letting the door close behind them, she begins leading him towards his room a couple of floors above.

"I saw you looking at the tab strangely. Have you never used one before?" That brings another thought to her mind, and she turns to face him as they wait for the elevator. "What do you do in your free time here, Taehyung?"

Taehyung shakes his head, ''No, I am not really much of a tech guy.'' He chuckles lightly at the fact, feeling like he's probably the only one his age who doesn't own a smartdevice of his own.

As they're slowly walking together, Taehyung thinks for a moment about the next question, his eyes continuously peering over at her. The way her hair delicately flows from the momentum, the way her hips had a subtle sway to them... If he could fall in love-- or what he thought was love, all over again with his therapist, he definitely did in this moment.

''Remember our first session?'' He runs his fingers through his hair, his boxy smile prominent, ''Most of the time I like to paint.''

She perks a delicate brow at that. Almost all the men his age proved to be avid techies, a couple of them even going as far as trying to correct her usage of the said devices as if she failed to understand.

"Hm, if you ever want one of these to just browse through and learn new things, just let me know. It can be arranged." She tells him with a smile, just as the elevator arrived. 

Stepping in, she looks mildly surprised when he admits to painting. She might have mentioned it to Namjoon in passing and now, she was glad that she did.

"That's great! I was considering it as part of your therapy. It's good that you're already painting." Pressing the number to his floor, she turns to peer up at him and actually noting how taller he was than her, even with her heels on. "I'm just curious. What subjects do you usually paint?"

Taehyung steps in with her, keeping a small space between them as he keeps his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to gaze down at her. She was quite cute like this, even cuter when he took notice of how small she was next to him. Well, a piece of him thought it was purely cute, another... saw it as a physical advantage. He shook the thought off in the form of another shrug, focusing on the question at hand once more.

''Flowers,'' he grimaced as if it wasn't already obvious, ''And sometimes I paint what I remember from my dreams... And, uh... people I've met in here.''

He said the latter in a lower voice, not sure if he should've included that part. He had a lot of free time to spend here, and painting surely was something he enjoyed. Everything from his flowers, to the way he interprets the darkness from his nightmares, and lastly-- the people he's met. He recalls he painted his doctor, and he knows for a fact that it's his favourite painting. He could look at it all day, his own version of a photograph since he didn't own any. He remembers painting it the first night he came here.

Her form subtly tenses when he mentions flowers, having heard him call her his favourite flower before. But considering how things were progressing, she decided to push it to the back of her head. It shouldn't matter, not when he clearly didn't feel the same pull he had towards her before.

Clearing her throat slightly, "Let me guess— irises? Or daffodils?" She asks with a light-hearted smile just when the elevator stops, prompting them to step out of it and continue on their way. 

"You paint your dreams too? Interesting." In fact, she had been thinking of advising him to write down or paint whatever he sees in his so-called nightmares. If she could interpret them, they'd be one step closer to finding what was troubling him for real. Maybe an old memory? Or a traumatic experience from the past?

"Taehyung..." She starts softly, as they keep walking at a slower pace towards his room. "Will it be too much if I ask to see your paintings? The ones with your dream sketches, I mean... It's purely for trying to understand your mind and see if I could help in any way." She raises a hand as if to prove to him there was no ill intention in her request.

Taehyung hums, his mind instantly falling back to the painting he made of her. He's pretty sure he had it hidden behind other works, so there was no chance of her seeing it. She probably wouldn't like seeing it... or maybe she would be flattered? But she wanted to see the nightmares.

''Actually, no...I painted a red dahlia.'' He continues before she's able to ask about the flower, ''You can... see my paintings if you'd like.''

"Right now?" She asks, coming to a stop in front of his room. She flashes her card to open the door for him while she hesitates on the threshold. She did request to see his paintings. But there was also the spontaneous lunch date she needed to get to. Chewing on her lip, her gaze flicks to her watch. Ten minutes, she could spare ten more minutes before meeting Namjoon. Hopefully he'd still be waiting.

"Thanks, Tae. I'd love to!" She tells him sincerely, stepping in behind him and tries not to flinch when the door clicks shut behind them. Venturing in carefully, she takes in the minimal decor of the large room— with the bed on one side with stark white sheets and the easel on the other, right in front of the huge window in the room.

"Red dahlia?" She goes to stand in front of the said painting, still mounted on the easel. It was beautiful in a rather lonely way, just a single large dahlia in the deepest of reds, almost like blood covered the expanse of the canvas. Reaching out in awe, she lightly traces it, the red pigment clinging on to her fingertips. "What does it mean?"

Taehyung stands next to her, observing his own painting with pursed lips. This painting was one that he made after a few days of coming here, when he wasn't sure that she was ever going to come back. He'd felt abandoned by the very doctor that is standing next to him, tracing the painting that he had created with tears in his eyes, and an ache in his heart.

''Red Dahlia'' He repeated with a nod, ''It represents... betrayal,'' he pauses to click his tongue when he finds an inconsistent transition in the colors. He really had to fix that, ''And loneliness.''

A lump lodges itself in her throat at his words, whispered so close to her ear, and she struggles to swallow past it to begin talking again. Her fingers recoil back quickly from the flower that made her feel guilty for reasons unknown, and she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, accidentally smearing the red over cheek.

Hesitantly, she turns to glance up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she'd walked into a trap. Drawing in a swift breath, she opens her mouth to get the words past her lips.

"Why... Why the red dahlia? Did someone make you feel abandoned?"

Taehyung smiles sadly, eyes catching the splash of red smeared across her cheek. The red symbolizing his pain, from the flower itself, now perfectly placed on her cheek-- the very culprit of his pain in the first place.

''Oh, flower..'' He breathes out, reaching out to swipe his thumb across her cheek, wiping off most of the colour, the remaining hue still smeared on her cheek, ''I didn't feel abandoned... I was...'' He sighs, using his reddened thumb to fill in the missing spot on the canvas, completing the piece, ''I was promised two days. And when I realized, it wasn't the truth... I didn't know what to do..'' Once more, his eyes flicker back to her, ''Through his pain, came beauty.'' Taehyung quoted his favourite artist once more, the last time he did was during their first session together, ''What do you think, doctor? Isn't it pretty?''

Her skin tingles where he seemed to touch her and she follows his fingers with confused eyes when they come off looking red. "Oh?" Her lips part slightly, her heart clenching at the sadness in his tone.

"Taehyung..." She calls his name softly, as if it'd erase all the pain. "You know I didn't mean to, right?" Now more than ever, she wishes he could read the sincerity in her gaze as she turns to look up at him, not minding how close they were standing to each other. "You could've always asked for me. You know you could have." 

Her attention shifts back to the painting as she considers his question. "It's beautiful... looks almost real." She admits, her fingers rubbing her cheek to get rid of the stain as if it still lingered due to her guilt. "But beauty doesn't always have to be through pain, right?" She moves in between the painting and him, making him look down at her determined eyes. "If the voice inside you says you cannot paint unless you're in pain, you have to prove it wrong. It's the only way to silence him."

Taehyung ignored the fact that she said he could've simply asked for her. He never would've done that, he didn't want to have to. He trusted her. But her sincerity made him feel like... Maybe it truly wasn't all her fault.

He felt good about the praise, but before he was able to react to it-- even though his chest fluttered for a mere second, her next words did nothing but make his lips pull in a lopsided smile.

''Yeah? You think I can do that?'' He dares to crane his neck to look at her through his dark curls dangling over his eyes, ''That I can...silence him?''

He refers to the voice as a 'him', rather than an 'it'-- to him, it was a part of him. How could he ever find beauty without sadness? Well, maybe his daffodil was that beauty... But she definitely wasn't pain free to him.

Her own lips quirk up in a smile finding his unique grin too contagious.

"Yes..." Her fingers move from her cheek, reaching up to push his messed up curls to the side to see his eyes clearly. "I definitely think you can!"

Dropping her hands back to her chest just as quickly realizing what she'd done, she shuffles awkwardly on her feet feeling like they were standing too close for comfort. "After all, it's your favourite artist who said ‘silence the voice if it says you cannot paint.’" She whispers, finding she cannot move back without bumping into the easel. 

"You're not in pain now, are you?" She presses the question, knowing her presence alone in a way improved his mood even if she refused to acknowledge the reason behind it. "Why don't you try painting now? We'll see if it affects your art as much as you think it does."

Taehyung's breath hitched from her touch, not expecting it, nor did he expect his own reaction. It was so subtle, but he felt a shiver run down his spine-- as if his body abruptly remembered what she felt like. Fuck, he missed her hands...

No, behave.

He took a step backwards to create a larger space between them, his eyes moving towards an empty canvas leaning against the wall on the floor, considering her suggestion.

''I could... Would you... Stay and watch?''

The air leaves her lungs easily when he moves farther away from her. Albeit, it lasts only a minute until his question echoes around the silent room. Stay? Oh, no. She begins shaking her head before she catches herself. Denying him would lead to his disappointment and the cycle would just continue, especially when he already thinks she abandoned him in the first place.

She would have to apologize to Namjoon later, maybe go all out for their dinner date. Nodding at Taehyung with a half hearted smile, she moves towards his bed to take a seat.

"Sure... I can ask the nurses to bring our lunch here while you paint. Will that be okay?"

Taehyung couldn't control the boxy smile appearing on his lips, eyes squinting genuinely along with it, ''Yeah.''

He grabbed the current painting, carefully moving and placing it on the floor, letting it lean against the wall before replacing the empty space on the easel, a fresh canvas ready for him. He takes the dirty palette in his hand, and the tubes of acrylic paint to squeeze out the colours he desired. Without another word, he dove into his own world, a brush in his hand as he started to paint, delicately letting his wrist swipe across the canvas. It was simple, one thing in mind as he painted; his doctor. Green leaves, white bells... It was her favourite flower.

She lets the nurses know where to bring their lunch with a few taps of her fingers before she pulls up Namjoon's earlier message as well, apologizing and promising to make it up to him over dinner. Soon after, there's a knock on the door and two of them leave their wrapped up food on the table and excuse themselves once she thanks them. 

All through this, Taehyung stays intent on his painting, making her smile at the little lopsided grin on his face as he focuses on whatever he was visualizing on the canvas. Standing up from his bed, she steps closer to him but not enough to see what he was painting.

"Am I allowed to take a peek yet, Tae?" 

Completely indulged in his own bubble, he didn't even notice when the lunch had arrived, too focused on working on his art. However, the one thing that did snap him out of his bubble, was the voice of his doctor calling him out by his nickname. He glanced over his shoulder at her, nodding once, then back at his painting as he took a step to the side to show off his latest addition to his collection.

Lily of the valley. Doctor's favourite flower.

With a hand wrapped around herself, she takes a few steps to close the distance between them when he signals her to, only to gasp again in surprise. The flowers looked very real. Her favourites. This time, she's mindful not to touch the wet paint as she silently marvels at his brush strokes.

"Wow..." The sound barely leaves her lips, her eyes stuck on the portrait unblinkingly when she sees the little note in the end. "You did this for me?" She mumbles under her breath, too scared to ponder upon the meaning behind the gesture. Didn't he say he felt nothing for her? 

She turns back to him, with many questions in her gaze but settling on the most simplest one. "Why?" Her gaze rakes over his appearance— his messed up hair, unassuming eyes, the tiny little beauty mark on his nose amidst the streaks of white paint that he must have accidentally gotten on himself while painting. He looked far too innocent for anything he'd done so far. A beautiful conundrum that she was nowhere close to solving, but managed to reel her in with as much as a gentle smile that belied his true intentions. "Why the lily of the valley?"

Taehyung put the brush down along with the palette, pulling his sleeves up once more as they kept coming down.

''Well...'' he softly whispered, turning back to look at her. His tongue poked out to wet his dry lips, before his eyes landed on the flower on the canvas, ''Lily of the valley... it represents the return to happiness..'' He chuckles, shaking his head at how cheesy it sounded, “And you said it's your favourite... Maybe, I am the lily-- trying to return...ah-- nevermind..'' He shrugged. Maybe, in his own mind, he would like to think of every person being able to be represented by a flower. His doctor was his daffodil. So.. maybe, Taehyung believed he could be related to the lily, in the pursuit of his happiness.

She takes a step closer, tugging at his arms to roll his sleeves up wordlessly so he wouldn't get any more paint on himself. She stays silent throughout his rambles, her eyes carefully taking in each flick of emotion on his face along with it.

"You want to be the lily?" Of course she doesn't add the part where she knew he wanted to represent the lily for her. "Are you sure? Didn't you say they were poisonous?"

Taehyung's eyes quivered at the word, as if she'd caught the hidden meaning behind the flower.

But it's not like she didn't know. She was his therapist. And she's experienced it first hand.

''Aren't I, though? This part of me...'' he gestures vaguely towards his temple.

"You want to find your happiness even if it comes along with the poison?" By now, she was no longer sugarcoating her words. Maybe saying it aloud as it was would stop him from whatever he was trying to be for her. Slowly, this new Taehyung was becoming hard for her to turn her back on. The innocence in him invoking the need to protect, and she didn't know if it was just manipulation on his part or something genuine.

"We're trying to cure you of that part, Tae. I don't think you should want to be the lily... there are so many other flowers to choose from, right?"

Taehyung shrugs, the common expression of his when he simply isn't sure what he's supposed to respond with, ''I guess you're right.'' But secretly, he still hoped.

Turning back to the painting, he inspects it once more before a soft sigh escapes his lips,

''Anyway...'' His eyes glance at the lunchboxes, ''I'm hungry. Can we eat?''

 Nodding her head, she moves away from the portrait, her mind running in inconclusive circles at what to make of their time together after the session officially ended. Of course she stopped taking notes, but that didn't mean she wasn't trying to analyse each of his actions. She couldn't pinpoint what was bothering her really, but she didn't expect him to be so... docile. Was it because of the drugs? Or was he really on the road to recovery that quickly?

Moving to the table, she opens the lunch boxes and sets it up as Taehyung follows her. Right before he's about to take the chopsticks though, she slaps gently at his hands.

"You have paint all over your fingers. Shouldn't you wash them off?"

''Ah..'' He withdraws his hand, giving her a small pout, ''I want to eat now...'' A sigh, playful however, allowed to escape his lips before getting up to head towards the small bathroom he was provided with, turning the water on by the sink to wash himself clean.

As he's washing his hands, his eyes glance up towards his reflection in the mirror. For some reason, he felt like he was sucked into a trance-like state, unable to move away from his own eyes.

Why are you restraining yourself?

Why are you allowing them to weaken us, Taehyung?

''Huh..'' Is all he could muster to say, frozen in place as the tap water continued to ripple over his hands, scorching water that slowly turned the skin into a reddish hue.

She tuts at his childish pout, smiling softly when he walks away to the little ensuite to wash himself while she goes about taking out all the little boxes in each of their lunch packs for him to eat once he comes out. When she's done, she sits herself down at the two seater table waiting for him. Seconds turn into minutes and she glances down at her watch, noting he'd been away for more than ten minutes now. 

She's quick to make her way towards the bathroom, hesitating a brief moment before she knocks on the door lightly only to find it opening at the gentlest push. Her dilemma vanishes the instant she finds it unlocked and peeps her head in cautiously to see him standing in front of the sink. "Tae... is everything okay in there?"

By the time she was checking on him, his hands were gripping the edges of the sink tightly, leaning a little closer towards his reflection. He didn't even notice his doctors presence, gaze completely fixed on himself, quietly whispering, "Go away."

It didn't work.

Taehyung grew frustrated, wanting the mischievous smirk on his face to go away. It wasn't him.

I am you, you are me.

"Stop...."

Hearing his whispered words, she immediately thinks it for her and almost closes the door, mumbling apologies for stumbling upon him but stops when he tells her to. Feeling more than just confused at his hot and cold replies, she dares to crane her neck around the door to look at Taehyung, frowning when she sees him still standing in front of the mirror staring into it unblinkingly, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"T-Tae..." Her tongue stutters around his name as she leans in further trying to snap him back to reality. "Can you hear me, Taehyung?"

We are you, we are me.

He screwed his eyes shut, the grip on the sink so strong that his knuckles turned white, veins underneath his skin popping from the strain.

Gnashing his teeth together, his words come out in a hiss, ''Don't you think I know?!''

He chews his lower lip between his teeth. Why was this happening now?

Our little whore is here, Taehyung.

Taehyung's eyes fly open, turning his neck abruptly to look over his shoulder, a startled look on his face, small beads of sweat trickling down his temples, ''Doctor..''

 She throws the door a little wider, hearing the obvious hiss slipping past his lips. She's about to reach for his shoulders and shake him out of whatever it was when he turns around himself, a flare of recognition in his eyes— but wait, the earlier lightness in them was absent, the brown of his pupils all murky and she steps closer with concern painted over her features.

"Yeah, I've been trying to reach you for the past five minutes..." She takes his hand, wrapping her fingers around it to check his pulse which was indeed beating too rapidly like she suspected. Her other hand goes up to his face, first checking his eyes by gently pulling his lower lid down before she presses her palm to his forehead to feel for his temperature. "I think it's time for your medication again." Her fingers trail down to cup his cheeks, hoping her touch would calm him down. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

The touch of her hand made his insides stir, the familiar heat he hadn't felt for a while burning underneath the skin of his hand. Fuck… He wants to..

Medication? Yes, it was time.

But he felt the darkness inside of him fighting against the thought. He didn't want to take them. The very moment her hands reached for his face, his eyes darkened further, widening as a sharp exhale allowed to push through his lips.

She was taunting him-- it. Unknowingly.

''I'm fine... I'm good.'' his voice was slightly strained, but his normal self was slowly drowning, fighting the urges growing within. 

Feeling his hand faintly tremble in her hold, she swiftly shakes her head as she observes his unfocused gaze along with his pinched tone— everything pointing at him not being fine. 

"No, you're not..." A part of her feels responsible for his relapse, having not monitored the time properly. She could fix it though, as soon as she gets him back into the bed and sends out a message from her tab for his scheduled dosage.

It would be so, so easy for Taehyung to just… Give in.

''No.'' He huffs out in response to himself.

"We just need to get you back on your meds and you'll be okay. Just—" She's struggling to force him back into the room when his refusal stops her abruptly. "What do you mean ‘No’?" Her eyes flash up to meet his almost unrecognizable ones. "Tae?"

Taehyung looks down to avert her eyes, refusing to meet hers. He doesn't want her to see his obvious struggle, but it was to no avail as his entire body was trembling…

"I'm okay."

He wasn't.

"I don't need it."

We don't want it.

His mind suddenly started to swirl. The door was locked unless his doctor used the card. Where was it? Around her neck. The tablet? On his bed.

It’s too easy.

He took a deep breath, one he didn't control on his own as the last shred of himself was drowned by his darkness. His nightmares shifted his entire demeanor. That's when his lips curled into a wolfish grin, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers once more, "My daffodil..."

Staring as the tremors travel through his body from his hands, she doubles her efforts to tug him back into the room and she's almost successful when he begins mumbling under his breath. Pausing to lean closer to hear him out properly, "You need it. You won't be okay until you take the meds." Was he just stalling because he didn't like the drugs?

"Taehyung..." She comes to a halt abruptly when he goes stock still making it impossible to move him anywhere. The trembling seemed to have ceased making her frown and try to peek under his messy locks only to freeze upon seeing those all too familiar cold and fathomless dark eyes staring back at her in glee. 

"No..." The word barely leaves her lips at the nickname he was all too fond of calling her by now. "No, Tae. Snap out of it!" Both her hands moved to his arms trying to shake him before he did something. "This is not you."

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, the grin on his lips only growing, his head bobbing a little from the momentum of her shaking him, his long fringe dangling over his darkened eyes.

''This isn't me?'' He chuckles, ''But isn't this the me you yearn for?''

His hands reach up to wrap around her wrists, stopping her from shaking him any further,

''We-- I... can finally feel it again.'' His grip tightens around her wrists, using his body to force her to walk with him towards his room-- his gaze fixed on the bed. He wanted her there.

''Doctor...'' He smiles, the boxy, warm smile appearing once more to mess with her head.

She turns completely still at his question. Did she long for this Taehyung? The answer comes in a blink. No. Never. Now, if only she could make him believe that and maybe push him back into his mind long enough—

Her feet unwittingly backs further into his room, giving in to his push like always. But her brows furrow together in confusion at his words. He spoke like Tae with that grin she adores so much and yet, his eyes remained cold and eery, filled with something too twisted for her to grasp.

Soon the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, making her stumble and fall back into it pulling him along. A cold shiver passes down her spine realizing their position. It must have been his intention all along. It was impossible to get to the door with him hovering above her, and her tab was too far away on the table along with their long forgotten food. She can't even shout for help in these soundproof walls.

"Feel what? W—weren't you hungry just now? The food is right there..." She keeps speaking softly to buy herself some time, her mind rapidly thinking for a way out. "Tae, this is not you... please. Don't do something you'd regret."

His hands fall on each side of her head, hovering over her body with his own, his long curls hanging to frame his face as he stares down at her. Pursing his lips in an almost childish pout, he breathes out his frustration through his nose.

''Why do you keep saying that? That I'm not me...'' He leans down closer, his face lingering a little too close-- yet not, to him being this close to her wasn't that weird.. They've done more intimate things. ''Doctor,'' he repeats, his eyes quivering as he meets hers, as if there was something--or someone disturbing his mind. Fighting him.

She's all yours now.

Taehyung screwed his eyes shut for a mere moment, shaking his head.

''No---..'' Gnashing his teeth together, his internal struggle evident.

She swiftly turns her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the mattress when he leans too close for comfort. They might have done things in the past, but she was determined to be his therapist only and help him recover more than anything.

That's why her stance falters when she hears him call her doctor instead of daffodil. Her eyes snap open, darting back to check on him to know for sure. But she's met with his closed ones instead.

She peers around the bed to see if she could disorient him enough to roll away and hit the buzzer for additional help under the table. Throwing her caution to wind, she pushes at Taehyung's chest, knocking his form sideways and tries to roll out of the bed, only to end up stuck half hanging over the edge. What she didn't consider was how their legs were tangled from her previous fall into the bed, making it impossible to shake him off. Fuck.

Taehyung's eyes fly open when he's shoved to the side, watching as she struggles to get off the bed.

Bad move. The Taehyung she knew was no longer there, pushed to the very corners of himself by the darkness erupting inside of him-- triggered by her attempt to escape.

His lips curl up into a wicked grin at the sight, like a predator watching it's helpless prey caught in his web. He enjoyed it. No, he loved it.

''Oh, flower... '' He breathes out with a chuckle, sitting up on the bed before reaching out to pull her back in by the arm, swiftly flipping her down on her back as he straddles her waist, wrists tightly pinned above her head, ''Just what did you think you were gonna do?''

"No..." A helpless cry, muffled by their struggle, slips past her lips as she's forced on her back again on the bed with absolutely no room for escape with Taehyung's weight pressing down upon her. The situation slowly looked too dire for her as she glanced up at the shadow of the man she thought she understood so well by this point.

"Taehyung, please!" She pleads, twisting her wrists within his hold. By now, she'd unknowingly begun calling this version by his full name while she called the other one, Tae, not hiding her fondness for him. "This isn't what you want, trust me. Just... let me go and we can pretend this never happened." Her body unknowingly writhes below him as she tries to free herself.

The way she squirmed underneath him brought Taehyung a sick satisfaction, a low groan vibrating in his chest at the feeling, the slight friction against his crotch. He smiled, his eyes were dead cold as they stared at her face, wrap around her wrists tightening further.

“No.”

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't want to stop.

They didn't want to stop.

So, instead, Taehyung made sure he had both her wrists pinned down by one hand, using the other to grasp her chin between his rough fingers, guiding her lips to his own in a, from his end, hungry kiss.

Witnessing how his face twists in delight as she fights more, her efforts only making the slow growing bulge in his pants rub against her thighs, she stops completely to not rile him up any further. But that only proves to be ineffective when he more or less takes her still demeanor for silent compliance when he forces his lips down upon hers, pressing down insistently.

As much as a dark part of her wanted to relish in it, her rational side won for now and she tries to shake off Taehyung's harsh grip on her chin to no avail. There's a particularly harsh squeeze of wrists together by his long fingers causing her to gasp and immediately, she could feel his tongue slip past her lips and flood her with his taste. And she's almost a goner by then, her mind flashing with memories of both pleasure and pain brought by him and him alone.

Taehyung felt her struggle less underneath him, a sick piece of him slightly disappointed at how easily she gave in-- another piece happy because he interpreted it as willingness.

The kiss deepens, a rumbling moan transferring to her mouth as his tongue swirls around hers, giving it a needy suck to taste her.

Fuck, he'd missed her taste. It was better than any of the drugs.

When he'd indulged enough in her lips, the aching in his pants was getting hard to ignore-- but he did his damned best to, he wanted something else… Slowly, Taehyung withdrew from the kiss to let his lips press against her jawline, down her neck to alternate between biting and sucking on her skin, adamant to mark her as his own, all while his body shuffled lower, instead positioning himself on his knees between her legs, forcing her to spread them as he pressed his rock hard bulge against her clothed core.

A soft cry of protest from her throat makes it clear how much she detests it when he begins marring her skin with his marks. She once again wriggles her wrists in his iron grip, making an effort to pry them free, but fails.

"Taehyung, stop marking me!" She yells out a hissed whisper, gritting her teeth together. There was no way she could explain them to her if someone, or worse, Namjoon saw it. And he was bound to, if she made it to their dinner date which was gradually looking impossible at this point.

When he shows no sign of stopping, she resigns to her fate with her eyes clenched shut trying to dissociate herself from what was happening. But not a minute later, they fly open when a very obvious hardness presses against her heat.

How? How the hell did he feel arousal when he was given hormone suppressants?

Her back arches off the bed, inadvertently pushing her breasts against his chest as she digs her hips into the mattress to keep his length from rubbing into her core. Tossing her head to the side, a tear slides down her cheek when a part of her feels sick enough to crave his touch, especially the intimate ones when she knows she shouldn't if she wanted to uproot this obsession he had with her.

He couldn't stop, he was too far gone, drowning in his desire for her as he continues to kiss her skin until he reached the neckline of her shirt above her chest. His hands quickly moved to tug at the fabrics to get them off, wasting no time in his need to see her, feel her. When he finally managed to get it off her, he sat up straight to simply admire. His dimmed eyes fixated on the bra covering her most intimate parts. Taehyung licked his lips at the sight, ''Beautiful.''

With just the tiniest bit of struggle, she lets him push her shirt off her frame, exposing her upper half to his greedy eyes. Her skin tingles self consciously at his stare, having never let him see her this vulnerable before. Despite his hands having left her wrists, she still keeps them above her head without even being asked to. Maybe there was a part that wanted this just as much as her brain seemed to be averse to it.

Her nipples perk up beneath her bra, straining against the lace under his eyes as she watches his tongue sliding over his lips wetly, making her shudder at the sudden want rushing through her. She knows this is wrong on so many levels, but the glutton for punishment in her drives her enough to want both the pain and pleasure of his touch. After denying him for so long, a little sound of need slips past her lips shamefully. "Tae..."

Taehyung felt as if his soul quivered at her words.

Finally, she's ours again.

''Say my name again,'' He smiled as he allowed his shameless hands to smooth over the skin of her stomach, all the way until he reached the laced bra blocking his view. He'd lie if he said he didn't absolutely love the way she looks in it though, laced underwear being just another add-on to his fetishes.

He toyed with the hem of the bra, slowly pulling it down to expose her breasts for his hungry eyes. Taehyung clamps his lower lip between his teeth as he cups her chest in his hands. This was the first time he felt her like this, and he cursed himself for not doing it sooner.

''Say my name again.'' His voice lowered as he repeated the request, eyes darkening even further, if that was even possible As he said the words, he rolled her nipples between his fingers, giving them a sudden pinch to draw a reaction, testing her pain tolerance.

"Tae..." She repeats at his demand, her tone getting a little surer this time as she rolls her lip between her teeth on seeing the pure need in his eyes. The softest gasp leaves her parted lips when his sinfully long fingers slide up her skin and bares the evidence of her own desire, her breasts that sag down with no support till he picks them up in his large hands.

Her breathing stutters at the feel of his warm palms perfectly fitting over her soft mounds and she unconsciously widens her thighs for him to settle between them more snugly. With each air intake, she pushes more of her chest into his hold until he squeezes her sensitive nipples making her whimper hotly.

There. There was the speck of pain she was looking for. But she also wanted the pleasure that only he can give her. "Taehyung, please."

Nothing sounded better to his ears than her whiny pleads. Taehyung hovered over her, rocking his hips against her core in a teasing manner-- to let her know exactly how hard he is already, just for her.

''So cute when you beg..'' He praises, leaning down to encase her nipple in his mouth. A low, muffled groan vibrated in his throat at the friction he provided himself through continuously pressing his clothed cock against you, his tongue flicking her hardening nipple in his mouth. Giving it a harsh suck, his dark gaze is fixed on her face, raising an eyebrow as if asking her to tell him what exactly it is that she wants.

Even if he already knows, he couldn't get enough of hearing how needed he really is.

Her chest flushes from his little praises and the attention he showers on her pliant form with his hungry eyes. She clenches her eyes shut at the first touch of his hot mouth around her aching nipple, making her stifle a loud moan. Her fingers, having a mind of their own, move down to sneak into his messy curls to hold him close to her chest as she sighs at the feel of his tongue playing with her pebbled peaks.

Her entire body shudders with each teasing thrusts of his despite the hurdle of their clothes, but it's the second infliction of pain on her sensitive nipples that makes her eyes flutter open to look at his coal dark gaze. Pushing his hair off his eyes, she tenderly runs her thumb across his cheek in a sudden burst of some unnamed emotion.

"Need you, Tae." She tells him softly, the dark and greedy part of her silencing her logical side in the presence of his lustful form hovering over to devour her whole. Waiting to ruin her for anyone else as if he hasn't already. "Want to feel you deep inside me, please..."

He felt his cock throb at her begging. How could he possibly deny her this? It's what he's been craving for her to say over and over, whining his name as he fucks her until there's nothing but a blank stare of lust in her eyes.

''I know you do,'' He murmurs the second he pulls away from her nipple to sit up straight on his knees, tugging at the hem of his pants to pull them down. There was no time to waste, each second precious before they'd come looking for her. He wiggles the fabrics down his hips, his rigid length proudly bobbing in front of him as he keeps moving his hands to pull down your panties, leaving the skirt on to please his own visuals. There was no time for foreplay, but as he expected; she was already fucking soaked for him. He could tell by the way her panties were basically crumbled together in a wetness in the crotch area, crooking an eyebrow as he tossed them aside.

''I've missed you,'' He stared down at her as he said so, speaking both to her and her body.

Another moment, taking it slow yet not wasting a single second. with one hand he gave himself a few slow strokes before lubricating his tip between her soppy folds, the other hand settling on her hip to keep her in place.

Whimpering softly when his lips leave her, she surrenders herself completely to his mercy as he pulls off her clothes as he wished. Her fingers itch to feel his skin and she gives in to the urge, letting one of her hands to tentatively snake down her body until it settles beneath the hem of his shirt.

They had never done this completely naked before and she knew she'd only feel even more vulnerable if she allowed him to see her. But she couldn't stop the part of her that craved intimacy even if she was nothing more than a warm body for him to satisfy his appetite.

As soon as he presses his leaking tip against her sloppy folds, her other hand slips under his shirt and she splays her fingers flat against his back to push him down upon her, effectively sheathing his entire length inside her in a single thrust. Her lips part in a silent moan at the stretch around his fat cock, "Missed this. Missed your cock..." She rambles as she locks her legs around his hips, rocking her hips up to see if he'd move.

"Fuck..." Taehyung bit back an eager moan when he felt her heat engulf his entire length, eyes fluttering shut for a second to just... feel. "Tight, just for me.." He breathes out, eyes opening back up slowly to stare down at her. He didn't waste time to start moving, grinding his hips into her to rub and prod her deepest parts, his lips parting as warm huffs slipped through them, arms flexing as he kept himself up on his elbows, inches away from her face to keep a close eye on every expression on her face. "Feels good, feels so good." He murmurs quietly, the undertone of his possessiveness growing more evident with his thrusts that remained slow but firm, gradually building up his momentum. He wanted to savor every stroke, every moan, and every clenching of her cunt around his length.

She nods her head hastily at his words. It felt good. Too good. And this was why she let him have her over and over again, more out of her own greed and need to be satisfied in every way possible, and only Taehyung ever came close to that even if she knew she should have never crossed that line which made it harder to go back the more she stayed in his presence.

Her moans turn into whimpers with each of his deep thrusts, her insides clenching around every ridge and curve of his delicious length that was splitting her apart. Snapping her eyes open, she glances up at his own, his irises dark like two black holes, sucking her in like there was no tomorrow. Snaking her hand up his back and into his hair, she tugs it back sharply till his neck arches out towards her eager lips. Pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple, she gently sinks her teeth into it before sucking a mark on the skin as it bobs beneath her lips.

She tightens her legs around him, pulling him close until there's no distance between their flushed and sweaty skin, raising her hips to meet his, angling herself so the tip of his length would rub against her sweet spot repeatedly. Moving her lips away from his throat, she trails open mouthed kisses up his jaw messily till she reaches his ear and licks into it.

"More, Taehyung... please!" She gasps softly, feeling something different in the way he handled her body unlike the times before. But her brain was too much wasted in the pleasure coursing through her limbs to analyze it anymore.

One throaty moan after the other slipped past Taehyung's lips. He relishes how breathy and clear her voice sounded in his ear-- ‘More, Taehyung. Please!'

She's asking for more, Taehyung. You're too soft on her.

We want more.

Taehyung clenched his jaw at the urges building in his body, his thrusts growing rougher. Low grunts rumbled in his throat, trying to keep himself occupied-- this was good, so good.

But something was missing. He missed her sobs. Her cries in pain. Her begging through tears.

"Shit..." Taehyung hissed. It was too tempting, his desires already overtaking him entirely. She was right there, begging for his cock. She wants it.

Taehyung did something he'd never done before in the midst of it all. He grasped her chin, guiding her lips to his own in a gentle kiss. Nothing behind it, no lust, no pain. Only an unnamed emotion. He pulled back to look at her, a hint of his brightness flashed in his irises before they were once again devoured by the darkness within.

Taehyung got up on his knees, hands firmly digging into her milky thighs as he pushed them back properly against her chest, watching her wet cunt spread for him as he began moving his hips at a punishing pace.

She's still reeling from the unexpected kiss he presses upon her lips so gently, the surprise in her eyes evident as she blinks up at him when he changes his angle. She'd seen the brief flash of clarity beneath the dark embers that burnt her through his gaze and now more than ever, she was determined to find it once again and make it stay.

The barest hint of his saner self was enough to reel her back into an alarming sense of safety, trapping her deeper into his clutches as he rammed himself into her folded form with a renewed vigor. One of her hands travel up his chest and towards his cheek, cupping it gently to make him look down at her as her breasts bounce against her thighs every time he mercilessly pushes inside her, almost making her body jolt off the bed.

Too much. It was slowly becoming too much for her sensitive body to take anymore. Her moans stutter down to cries, begging for release, her hair falling wildly on to his pillow escaping its updo as she thrashes beneath him. With her eyes closed now, the squelching sound from the way he thrusted into her dripping folds seemed too obscene.

"I'm close... so close, Tae. Don't stop!" She sobs out loud, clearly confused between his two selves as her clit thrums with her impending release, her mind muddled completely from the way he was ruining her.

"Gah..." Taehyung grunts between heavy breaths, driving his hips forward over and over, repeating the sinful motion as he fucks into her like there was no other purpose he desired to fulfill.

He felt her fleshy, squelching insides constrict around his fat length as her orgasm quickly built up, only spurring him to continue-- and even accelerate the power behind his thrusts.

More. Give her more.

Louder... Harder.

"More." Taehyung said it out loud, the faint yet loud whisper in his head that fueled the fire in his body, desperate to find his own high. Pleasure, it was all he wanted. To feel something.

And because of her, he was able to feel the closest to alive he's ever felt.

"Cum on my cock-- fuck!" Taehyung growls, the darker corner of his mind on fire, growing stronger the closer he gets to his own release. He is tireless, greedy to feel as much as possible, to hear the way his cock plunges into her hot flesh, the sound so sinful it makes Tae's length throb heavily.

He just needed one last push. To feel her cunt squeeze around him like a vice grip to be able to reach his limit-- to hear her choked wails as she cums, silent cries in pain when he keeps fucking her past her sensitivity. The mere thought of this makes him moan out loud, grinding his hips into her to allow the swollen head of his cock to abuse her deepest parts.

Tears stream down the sides of her face, drenching his pillow behind her as pain begins to overwhelm her vulnerable body. Her fingers grapple to find purchase as his thrusts jerk her up further on the mattress, making the headboard bang against the wall with each of his movements. Wrapping her fingers around his arms that hold her almost folded in two, her nails dig into his skin enough to draw blood as he pushes himself even deeper into her if it were possible, making her feel his thick length pulse all the way inside her womb.

With his guttural voice moaning deeply above her, one last punishing thrust from Taehyung finally pushes her over the edge as pain and pleasure mingle together wrecking her body in agonizing waves of orgasm. She unravels with a strangled moan, her lips open in a muted scream as more tears flow down her face when he seems to take her with no pause even as her drippy orgasm is fucked out of her.

"T-Tae... please!" She begs as she cracks open her eyes to watch him fuck her hapless body brutally through her orgasm. "I can't... please— too much, baby." She gasps out breathlessly, trying to inhale in the air despite the pain in her ribs. "Baby stop!" She tries one more time, clawing at the strained muscles in his arm to make him see he was hurting her.

"Don't give in to the darkness, Taehyung. L-let go... and come back to me." The last part is said in a whisper as she fights the exhaustion trying to shroud her mind. She can't pass out. Not now. As one last try, she squeezes her insides around his cock tightly to make it harder for him to move. "Let go baby..."

Taehyung barely hears her pleas, too deep down in his own sea of rapture from the way her body squirms and clenches around his cock. Every sound she makes fuels the fire inside of him, the broken skin on his arms burning-- everything adds to the powerful high he feels.

"No, n-no...." He huffs, slowing down just slightly to look at her through his stringy fringe, still rubbing his swollen cock deeply inside of her. "I'm gonna cum inside."

And hurting her in the process didn't do anything but please him. After all, the sadism he possessed seemed to have grown stronger since he met her, and yet it seemed.... less. This entire illness contributed to the fact that he was even put in a facility, and here he is, on the edge of indulging fully in his sick desires.

But he doesn't cross it. Although his fingers itched to grasp her small throat in his large hand, it seemed as though she was on the verge of passing out just from his cock. And a sense of pride beamed within him. She squeezed his cock tighter, attempting to make it harder for him to move. But what she didn't realize is just how much he loved the tightness it provided, as if he had to work harder to spread her insides with his girth.

"Fuck, keep doing that... I'm so close...unff..." Taehyung's deep voice cracked into a whine when his orgasm hit him after one last rough thrust. He pins her body in place, keeping his cock deeply lodged inside as his cock pulsates rhythmically to empty himself of everything he had to offer. It's a feeling he never grows tired of, carelessly pumping his cum into her as if she's now claimed by his essence.

He breathes heavily, slowly moving his hips in a few shallow thrusts, staring down at her with possessive eyes-- eyes that didn't wash down to go back to his normal self as quickly as it previously would've.

Unable to hold on to her consciousness, her legs fall limply from around his hips held up only by his large hands that had her completely folded up. Her fingers tire from the constant clawing, simply wrapping around his arms now as her eyes roll back into her head briefly as he rams into her with one hard and final thrust, beginning to fill her ruined walls with his hot seeds.

She wanted to shake her head. To tell him to stop from pumping her full of his cum because she didn't want to risk a pregnancy in their current states. But no words make it past her swollen lips as he indulges fully in her exhausted body, making her realize how powerless she really was in the fact of his unbridled lust.

A muffled moan sounds from her throat, her neck and jaw hurting from the way she had to hold back most of her cries. It felt like he had filled her up heavily to the brim. There was so much more than the one time she'd let him have her before, her womb swelling up slightly from the amount of cum he dumped into her.

Taking in steadying breaths to not completely slip away into the blackness dotting her vision, she slowly pries her eyes open to see him above her, her body immediately shuddering at the dark look in his gaze that failed to disappear even after he'd found his high.

"Tae..." She rasps out, her throat feeling like sandpaper. "It's okay. I— I'm all yours now. Only yours. Come back..." She gently coaxes his other side, hoping to not trigger the monster in him again as she's sure she wouldn't survive if he decided to take her one more time.

As if the darkness slowly melted off of him by the second as it had been sated, his expression morphs from wicked to concerned-- with a hint of a smile when she says the one few words he'd longed to hear for so long.

"I'm here, doctor." He leans in close, lower lip trembling when he kisses her forehead gently, then withdraws to look at her. He swipes a thumb underneath her damp eyes, sighing at what he's done once again-- he'd succumbed to the darkness that seemed to overtake his senses more frequently..

But look what it gave you, Taehyung. Look where it brought her. Right into your grasp.

"Don't worry, I will always be here." Tae's smile grows to reassure his doctor, the familiar box-shaped grin that could melt the coldest of hearts. It's as if he wasn't just tearing her apart for his own sick pleasures. He pulls out finally, groaning quietly as he does so, sitting up on his knees. He places a warm palm on her trembling thigh, soothing it with a rubbing movement. "You mean it, right?"

He seems to be back. The crazed and uninhibited possession in his gaze has softened a bit. The monster has retreated to its hiding place, for now. Despite any amount of reassuring words, it still lives within him--that much is certain as she tries to lift herself to a sitting position and struggles to do so. 

She nods, strings of sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead. “I mean it--” The door handle rattles.

“Doctor?” Namjoon’s voice rings from the other side, clear as a bell.

Get rid of him. 

“Don’t,” Taehyung whispers, but not at anyone in particular.

“Fuck… Tae, get dressed.” 

“Doctor, is the patient with you?”

Another rattle. This time, it’s stronger. A key card scans for entrance, and that’s when Taehyung’s voice grows louder.

“Don’t come in!”

“Tae!” She rasps in a whisper, clamoring to tug her clothes on. “Keep your voice down!”

He’ll take her away. 

“It’ll be fine..”

“What are you…” She leans in to look at Taehyung and notices what little light he’s harbored in his eyes has now left indefinitely. “No, Tae, please... Don’t do this. Not now.”

Another rattle, and finally, the door flies open. With little to no notice, Namjoon stands in the open doorway with a startled expression.

“Step away from her.” He says it in a low tone with concerned, dark eyes. He strides into the room and shoulders the easel out of his way, causing the fresh painting to fall and crumple beneath the firm wood. Cautious footsteps tromp over Tae’s work to get to them quicker, smearing the paint and tacking it beneath his shoes as he strides. 

The white of the bells have barely dried, meshing into the green that surrounds them. But the shape is still distinct, and it’s all Tae can see. His attention snaps back to her as her fingers mindlessly intertwine into his for comfort. This time, it’s for her. 

“Don’t look at it,” she soothes, running her thumb over his hand. Taehyung stares down blankly at their hands, then back at her. His eyes are vacant, but his lips tug into a warm smile. Before he’s able to speak, Namjoon’s voice demands their attention.

“Don’t touch. Please, just..” His hands clasp together in front of his chest, assessing the sight before him. He’s a patient man, and he’s seen a lot during his time as the head of the facility, but nothing like this. “Doctor, please...release the patient’s hand. We need to take him in for evaluation. His behavior is erratic.”

“Hah..” Taehyung crooks a bushy brow Namjoon’s way when he looks up at him, “Erratic? She’s the one holding my hand.” 

“I’ve got this under control, Joon..” Her voice cracks as she tries to hold her composure, half-naked and trembling with nerves. No matter how she tries to clarify what the facility head has walked into, it’s no use. 

 “No, you don’t.” Namjoon shakes his head lightly, with grave disappointment. “Let go of him.”

It’s harder than she’d admit, feeling a sense of comfort in the warmth of her patient’s hand that she could never describe to Namjoon. As long as they’re touching like this, she knows his humanity is intact. He can’t hurt her or himself.

“Give me more time with him. He was turning a corner, I just--”

“It’s over,” Joon tuts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have reassigned you here. It was too dangerous.” He refrains from making a grimace at the way Taehyung’s small grin grows wider when she only grabs his hand tighter. Namjoon sighs, keeping his eyes on the other man instead of the half-dressed state she’s in, “And… get dressed. The nurses are on their way.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“This is serious. You’ve become...compromised. If you don’t cooperate, I can’t save you from this.”

“We made a breakthrough.” She swallows tight and squeezes Tae’s hand tighter, earning light red imprints where her fingers lay before releasing. “It’s not conventional, but it was working.”

“Just put some clothes on and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

Taehyung watches with intrigue, the way she followed Namjoon’s orders without much of a fight. He didn’t bother to get dressed more than the sweatpants he had earlier, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It seems there isn’t much he can do to change the direction of where this is going, so he keeps his cool and instead decides to marvel in the last few minutes he’s got left to look at her. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Joon directs the patient. “Stop looking at her like that.” He turns his attention to her, relaxing his shoulders with relief when he notices her bare skin has been covered by more clothing.

Two nurses enter the room and naturally make their way to Tae, gently holding him by the arms to pull him out. 

“Wait..” Her eyes widen when Taehyung is lifted from the bed and removed from her side. “W-wait!”

“Please, keep calm,” Joon warns. “Let’s not make a scene.”

She latently realizes that this could be the last time she ever sees him. Even after all that he’s done to her, she struggles to separate her work from the bond they’ve formed. How could she forget, when his cum spills from her body and onto the bed. The bruises and marks are visible on her skin, and despite resisting them before, she wishes there were more.

Taehyung complies with the smallest boxy smirk on his lips, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I guess this is it, little daffodil,” Tae says with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his dark eyes, “For now.”

“Take him to solitary to be evaluated.” Namjoon walks to the bedside and wraps her shoulders with a blanket, to preserve her modesty. “We need a moment.”

The nurses followed his orders and left them to speak, sworn to the highest level of discretion by order of the facility head. 

“Come,” one of them prompted, nudging Tae slightly to pull his attention from her. But Tae’s gaze never wavered, not until he was out of the room, ushered and contained. 

“Bye.” she quietly replied, too late for him to hear.

Once they left, there were no witnesses or eavesdroppers to validate what was shared between the two of them. What’s certain is, after a week of bureaucratic back and forth and a mountain of paperwork, she was gone. Without formal notice, left of her own accord. ‘Personal reasons,’ the official documents said. 

Tae was transferred to another facility almost immediately. Namjoon was expedient in delivering his case to another establishment, well equipped for the likes of him. More barring, more locks. It was a tight-knit program with more rules and limitations, but he wasn’t Joon’s concern anymore. 

With Tae’s relocation came rumors amongst the facility staff. Why was he moved so suddenly? There was plenty of talk around it, but none of the gossip stuck. As weeks passed, so did the news around infamous Kim Taehyung and his short-lived treatment under their care. 

That was it, and life moved on. For everyone else at least.

The memories lived with her, everyday. 

Time passed. Weeks turned into years. She moved from job to job, and her time with Taehyung was left at the facility that day. What she remembers clearly is that Namjoon asked her to leave in return for his favor of silently dealing with her mistakes. And he did a good job dealing with them. It was his way of showing he cared, by giving her the chance to walk away and start anew. 

So she did.

A tall vase of daffodils sits on her dining room table, brightening up the room with their cheery yellow petals. Springtime arrived, which she enjoyed now-a-days, finding the most vibrant flowers at the market to decorate her home with. Their beauty fades day by day as they begin to wilt, but she holds onto them as long as she can. It’s a simple pleasure that brings a smile to her face, pleased to nurture something with such care.

She walks to her coffee pot to pour a new cup. It’s late in the morning, but she still wears her robe and slippers, uncaring of doing much more than step onto her front porch for a bit of sunshine before going back inside to watch television. With a steaming mug in her hand, and the aroma of mouth-watering coffee filling her senses, she does just that.

Sundays are lazy and quiet, for the most part. There are very few surprises out in the countryside. However, a slip of paper on her doorstep is atypical, to say the least. She unfolds it with the tip of her slipper to inspect it further, and uncovers what looks to be an original painting of violet irises. The paint smells fresh, like it had dried just before it was placed for her to find. 

She kneels down to take a closer look, pinching the note between her fingers.

“Through his pain...came beauty.” She reads it out loud, but pauses between words. Her voice strains to continue, but presses on. “…His art.” 

Heart pounds in her ears as she lifts her eyes to a small patch of wild irises she has growing in her garden. Starting at the base of the plant is a pair of boots, which seem to sprout from the floral bed. She trails up a pair of long legs, over slim hips and broad shoulders, until she reaches the face that’s haunted her for years--one she left behind in what feels like another life. 

Luscious curls, a sharp jaw...almond eyes, framed by full lashes. It’s all there, just as she remembers it. There’s even that dark and innocent gaze staring back at her, devouring her, making up for lost time. Once they lock eyes, she forgets everything she wanted to say to him. Years of practice, and all she can muster is the smallest--

“Tae?”

Taehyung’s toothy smile grows wide at the sound of her voice. Years of patience finally paid off. He slowly approaches her as to not startle her, like a deer in headlights. With a gentle touch, he reaches out to brush his thumb against her damp cheek.

“Hello, daffodil.”

© sombreboy 2021. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: daffodil nightmares #daffodil dreams #yandere taehyung #yandere bts #taehyung smut #dom taehyung #taehyung x female #bts smut #taehyung dubcon #bts dubcon #twdubcon #twnoncon #kim taehyung smut #yandere kim taehyung #kim taehyung x female

[4am-obey-me-thoughts]

In Sickness

Summary: You fall ill, Satan takes care of you. 

Word Count: 828

You felt awful. Limbs heavy and exhaustion seeping into your bones. You were a bit under the weather this morning, but decided to power through it. By the end of your second class, you headed to the infirmary. Even the demon that excused you from classes for the day looked concerned. 

Dragging yourself back to the House of Lamentation, you practically collapsed on the nearest sofa. Stairs weren’t a challenge worth facing. Eyes closing, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Satan closed the door quietly behind him. Rumours spread around campus like wildfire. Your early departure no exception. He left as soon as he heard, abandoning the canteen for the house. He didn’t care if Lucifer got on his case about skipping class, you were more important.

“Hm... Satan?” You awoke to the blond leaning over you, placing a cool damp over your forehead. 

“Sorry to wake you. You’re running a fever.” He couldn’t leave it unattended, though hadn’t expected you to wake up just yet.

“What time is it?”

“Just after midday. We'll be alone awhile longer." Peace and quiet for a few more hours. At least until his brothers got home. Or caught wind of your condition.

Satan never knew much about human ailments and afflictions, not until you came. He read many books, thorough in his research. One thing stood out among the various tips and treatments.

“Rest now. I'll bring you some water.” 

You nodded, settling back against the pillows. Had those been there before? Come to think it, the blanket hadn’t either. A sleepy smile curved your lips.

"Here," Satan offered. Taking the glass and having a few sips, you nodded a thank you.

"Since you're awake, let's get you up to bed." You set the water aside.

The thought of moving really wasn't appealing. It took the last of your energy to get back, feeling quite content to stay on the sofa. Then again, bed was more comfortable in the long run. And there was more space... an arm slipping under your legs interrupted the internal conflict.

Satan scooped you into his arms, heading for the stairs. Heat rose to your cheeks, something you blamed on the fever when he looked at you with that playful smirk.

He got you settled in bed, promising to return with a few books. While there was no human safe medicine in the house - something he reluctantly messaged Lucifer to retrieve - he did have ingredients leftover from potion making. Maybe they’d prove useful?

Toxic. Toxic. Useless. Toxic. Nothing. There wasn't anything he could use. But what did he expect? Healing potions weren't until next semester. And even then, humans and demons had wildly different anatomy. Though one thing, minus any lethal flavourings, had the chance of giving a little comfort.

Tea. Satan rifled through the various blends stowed in his cupboard, searching for something safe flavoursome. He did enjoy his teas with the kick Devildom ingredients tended to offer. Finally, he found it. A human variety gifted to him by Solomon. It went nicely with honey and lemon.

“I found a few good reads, nothing too heavy. I think you’ll like…” He trailed off, smiling softly. You were fast asleep.

Leaving the tea and books on the nightstand, he headed for the door. Only for a soft sound to disturb the quiet, drawing him back. A whimper. Your brow furrowing in distress. He sat on the bed, placing a hand on your cheek, gently stroking feverish skin. Your face relaxing with his touch, he laid down beside you.

The hours drifted by, and as you woke, you vaguely recalled a gentle coaxing. Cool water running down your throat, easing the soreness. Bleary eyes blinked, head lulling to the side. You found him sat up next to you, a book open in his lap. A sleepy smile curved your lips.

“Good evening. Did you sleep well?” Satan hummed, closing the book. You yawned, nodding.

“How late is it?”

“Late. Everyone is asleep.” Aside from Lucifer, as perusal. 

The eldest dropped by with the cold medicine after class, checking in on you before having to keep the rest of his brothers quiet enough for you to rest. Earning many protests and proclamations of the unfairness of it all.

“Why are you still here?”

“To look after you, of course. I’ve permission to stay until your fever breaks.” A deal he reluctantly agreed to in appeasement. If it were up to him, he would stay far longer.

“Has it?”

"Hm." Satan pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Still warm.”

"That doesn't help." You grumbled, flustered. Satan laughed, sinking down into the pillows and wrapping an arm around you. 

“I suppose not.”

You rested your head against his chest, another yawn escaping. He placed another kiss on your temple. It didn’t take long for you to drift back to sleep, Satan watching you with a tender fondness. Soon his eyes grew heavy, joining you in the world of slumber. 

#obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me satan x mc

[awanderingdeal]

Hello there! Would you please consider writing a fic where maybe Leo or a fan wears a dress or paints his nails or something else feminine and gets bullied online so the entire team then starts wearing dresses out in retaliation? I think Leo is the perfect example of flipping the V to normative gender ideals

Hi! Thank you for this ask. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of took this as inspiration and ran with it. I used Finn just because it fits my own personal headcanons that he would be the one that would be a bit more adventurous fashion wise, although I definitely agree Leo is the nail painter in that relationship! I hope you like it!

Apologies for the excessive use of italics in this fic!

CW: food mentions, some swearing, implied Instagram bullying and a child with very mild illness (hay fever).

Rating: T

Let me know if you think I missed anything or need to change the rating.

All characters in this fic are from Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

“Are you going to take that dress off?” June asked, blowing on the undercoat she’d just applied to her nails. Finn’s eyes dropped from the TV screen to the black fabric draping over his body. He brushed his fingers over the material, enjoying the texture of the sheer polka dots that decorated the dress. From afar, they were difficult to see, but at this distance they shined. His own little secret.

“No,” Finn replied, the word slipping from his mouth felt foreign, as if he hadn’t chosen to say it. “ Is that okay?”

“It’s generally considered polite to ask before you borrow people’s clothing, but sure, why not?” A loud cheer erupted from the TV notifying Finn the score on the basketball game he had been watching had changed. He desperately wanted to check it, but he continued to hold June’s gaze. “The Knicks,” June offered and Finn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you going to wear it out later?” She didn’t wait for his reply, proffering two bottles of polish for Finn’s perusal, a redcurrant and a mauve.

“The red,” Finn decided after a beat. “No, I think I’ll get changed before we go to the theatre.”

“Alright then,” June hummed, glancing at her cell. “Logan is trying to call you, by the way.”

“Yes, my cell, I know exactly where that is,” Finn muttered to himself, stabbing at the remote to pause the TV. It took a few minutes of searching, the device hidden between the folds of the bean bag he was lounging on, but eventually Logan’s face was filling all 6.1 inches of the screen. “Lo!”

“Hey.”

Finn loved the greeting on Logan’s tongue, one of those that he never seemed to be able to stop his accent dripping through. Finn thought perhaps the sentiment was painted on his face, Logan peering at him curiously through the lens. “Isn’t that June’s dress?”

The dress. Finn had forgotten all about it. “Yes.”

He hadn’t meant for the reply to be said with such abruptness, but it felt good, all the tension coiling in his chest being released in the word.

Logan’s expression was challenging, similar to that June had given him earlier. “I was just going to say you look better in it.”

“Oh.”

June unfurled her legs from beneath her, throwing herself into view of the screen, her left hand held awkwardly in front of her. “I’m right here, Tremblay!”

***

“Love, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re being very distracting.”

Finn frowned at Leo’s statement. “I’m not doing anything?” And for once, he wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to guess the weight of irrelevant objects. He wasn’t playing with the stray bits of dough Leo had left aside for decoration. He wasn’t even relaying facts about his current favourite interest. Finn was just watching.

Sometimes he liked to do that. He liked seeing Leo’s long fingers curled around the handle of the knife, his movements fluid and confident, his expression soft with quiet concentration. Occasionally, he’d cock his head, humming contemplatively and Finn could take the opportunity to offer his taste buds.

“It’s not a you problem, it’s a me problem,” Leo chuckled, setting the knife down on the chopping board. “I keep looking up and you’re just -” Finn followed Leo’s gaze as it wandered down to the exposed skin between Finn’s t-shirt and his skirt. “- I’m trying to meal prep and it’s going to take all week at this rate.”

The t-shirt had belonged to Logan, an old Harvard hockey throwback that had managed to make it through several wardrobe purges, so, whilst it was wide enough for Finn, the length was awkward. He hadn’t really considered his boyfriend’s reactions as he’d cut the item to fall several inches above his belly button, the crop looking far more purposeful than it previously had.

“Oh this old thing, I just threw it on,” Finn smirked, as he pushed off the counter he'd been leaning on. He rounded the island, stealing a carrot as he passed, until he planted himself in front of Leo. "Do you want help? It'd be quicker?"

"Now we both know neither of those things are true." Leo raised a critical eyebrow, his laughter smooth and sweet. He turned to face Finn more fully, his hand reaching to pass the forest green material of Finn's skirt through his fingers. "I like this colour on you."

"It has pockets! I totally get why Lily's always shouting about them. They're very convenient." Finn shoved his hands in the well-concealed pocket, pulling his cell from its depths. "See."

"Nice," Leo said, his smile making the edges of his face crinkle. "How about you let me finish up here and then we can find Lo and get his opinion on this outfit?"

"Fine," Finn groaned, resisting the temptation to draw Leo in a hug, and perhaps something more. "I'm gonna go and look over that report the accountant sent over. Do you want me to check yours over too?"

"Please," Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. "You're the best."

"You feed me, I make sure you don't get arrested, that's what relationships are all about, right?"

"Right," Leo ran his fingers over the skirt one last time and stepped back to put some space between them. Finn turned to leave, barely getting a few paces in before Leo called him. "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just one kiss now would be okay."

Finn shook his head, letting Leo draw him back in with a chuckle. Leo's hands, always warm, settled on Finn's waist and he leaned down to press their lips together.

***

Finn winced as Aveline sneezed again, the forceful burst of air covering his sweater in droplets. He felt sorry for her; she was struggling with a bout of hay fever that was making her red-nosed and irritable, but the sweater was one of Finn’s favourites. A vintage, hand knitted blue thing he’d found in a thrift store in Cambridge for an absolute steal. Back then, it had been the scene of Bambi and his friends on it that had grasped Finn’s attention, however, he’d come to love it for its perfect fit and the fact it never failed to spark a conversation.

“Harzy, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Finn tried not to let his relief show too much seeing Kris’ approach, his arms outstretched to gather his daughter. “I can’t even put her down to go to the bathroom at the moment without her screaming.”

Finn chuckled, holding a wriggling Aveline tighter to stop her launching herself before her father was close enough. “Papa!” she cried, the exclamation melded neatly into a large yawn.

“Come, mon chou,” Kris soothed, letting Aveline bury her face into the crook of his neck and playing a gentle pattern with his fingers over her back. “Let’s go and see if Vroom-vroom has any magic up his sleeve, ey? He always knows what to do.”

“Vroom-vroom?” Finn whispered the question.

“Sergei,” Kris explained with a gleeful smile despite the tiredness etched into his face. He shifted Aveline into a more comfortable position. “Thanks again for holding her.”

“Anytime.”

Finn had barely been alone in the Dumais’ second living room for a minute when Katie came crashing in. He wondered briefly if he should redirect her back to the other room where everybody was gathered, the thought quickly interrupted by Katie tugging on the hem of his skirt. “Can you spin again? Please?”

Unable to resist her large doe eyes, Finn twirled for her, his skirt swirling and billowing around him until he began to go dizzy.

“Encore! Encore!”

Finn didn’t need Logan around to translate that for him, he’d seen enough Broadway shows to understand the request.

“No more, Katie Belle. I’m going to puke,” Finn laughed, lifting Katie into his arms. “You’re growing too quickly! I swear you were only this big the last time I saw you,” he teased, spreading the thumb and index finger of his free hand a few inches apart.

“I’ll be as tall as you soon!” Katie giggled, patting Finn on his head.

“Then you can carry me,” Finn teased. He was just reaching to bop Katie on the nose when the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter closing grabbed his attention.

“Logan!” Katie gasped, struggling in Finn’s arms for a second like little Aveline had done. “Put me down.”

Finn obliged, watching Katie run toward Logan with a fond smile.

“Did you fix it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Ouais,” Logan nodded, “I gave it back to Maja.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” Katie wrapped her arms around Logan’s hips in a hug before running off, presumably to find Maja.

Finn crossed the room, opening his arms for Logan to walk into. He rested his chin on Logan’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “What were you up to?”

“Just taking a photo of two of my favourite people,” Logan mumbled into Finn’s chest.

“Can I see?”

“Oui, it’s very cute. ” Logan stepped back, pulling the photo up onto the screen. It was a nice one, both Finn and Katie’s head tipped back slightly with bright laughter. Finn tracked down the photo, Katie’s legs clinging to his waist where the faux leather skirt started. He breathed in, filling his lungs with air and then expelling it quickly.

“Post it.”

Logan looked at him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I’m fed up with changing my clothes all the time and I’m surprised I haven’t been papped anyway. I’d rather do this on my own terms. It’s a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Tell me to do it again,” Logan reached out a hand, squeezing gently as Finn took it.

“Post it.”

***

“Stop reading,” Leo sighed, plucking Finn’s cell from his hand.

Finn matched his sigh, burying his head into his hands. He didn’t need to look at the screen anyway, the words burned into his eyes. How anybody had looked at a photo of two people, one of whom was a child, laughing and had churned out hatred was mystifying to him. Finn had been expecting that though, he’d been around long enough to know there were some assholes out there. When he’d replied to one of the nicer ones he hadn’t really considered how he would feel about that going viral. About becoming the face of something he hadn’t really asked for.

Roaringlion17: Harzy! This fit is spectacular, I love the skirt <3 I just wanted to ask if you are trans and what pronouns you would like us to use?

OfficialFOHara: @roaringlion17 Thank you! He/him pronouns are great! I’m not trans. I just think it’s dumb that boys can’t wear skirts. Or dresses for that matter. I like clothes, not boxes.

The reply had now been featured on every gossip column possible and was beginning to filter into more esteemed news too. One of them had even called him, the face of a revolution, which had made Finn cringe. He supposed it was better than the hateful slurs his PR team were battling to keep off the photo.

“Hey,” Logan took the seat next to Finn where he’d slumped himself at the dining table. “Look at me.” Finn lifted his head, meeting Logan’s eyes, the deep green something he wanted to get lost in right now. He thought Logan was going to ask for the thousandth time if Finn wanted him to delete it, but all he got was the fierce, determined gaze Logan sported on the ice. “This is going to pass. Tomorrow, somebody will cheat on somebody and you will be old news. Do you want to see something?”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what he was consenting to, but he trusted Logan to make it something that would make him smile. Leo dragged another of the chairs around to sit on Finn’s left hand side, setting his confiscated cell in front of him, the Instagram app open to Thomas’ profile. Logan leaned forward, tapping on the latest photo.

Thomas’ smile was wide as he sat on a window sill, kicking out the long zebra print skirt cloaking his legs. The caption underneath read ‘You’re just jealous that I wear it better than you! #boyswearskirtstoo’

“That’s -”

“Wait a second,” Logan reached for the phone again, setting it down with a picture of James’ visible. He was wearing an ochre coloured corduroy skirt that clearly belonged to Lily, the fabric straining on thighs. I’m feeling myself in this, tbh. Please hold whilst I order one in my size #boys wearskirtstoo.

Finn snorted, the sound wet with the tears he was struggling to hold back.

The hashtags kept coming.

Cap and Loops in their respective jersey’s tucked into pleated skirts. These Lions know fashion is not gendered #boyswearskirtstoo

Ollie in a shimmering gold knee length piece. Shine bright! #boyswearskirtstoo

Nado, Kuny, Smitty and Kane, arms slung around one another's shoulders, all wearing varying shades of pink. On Wednesdays, we wear pink #boyswearskirtstoo. Finn would bet good money that Kuny was behind that caption.

Dumo, Sergei and their wives, alongside their troupe of children, each one of them wearing a different coloured tutu. Dumo had opted to just include the hashtag, or rather his social media team had, because the man himself most definitely did not know how to upload the photo.

Kasey and Natalie looked effortlessly cool dressed in white tennis skirts and floral bomber jackets. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about? #boyswearskirtstoo

Alex was wearing a very similar black skirt to Finn's in his photo. Who wore it better? #boyswearskirtstoo #thatsmylittlebrother

“He’s an idiot, but I love him,” Finn laughed wetly.

“There’s more,” Logan smirked as he tapped at the screen again, almost brimming with an excited energy. He placed the cell back down, leaving his hand to block the next photo a little longer. Finn grabbed the device as soon as Logan revealed the image.

It was perfect.

Leo and Logan lounged on the sofa, a little further apart than they would normally sit. Leo clutching his favourite mug and Logan with sketchpad in hand. They both looked easy in their outfits, as if the skirts were a part of them. Leo’s was long, hitting just above his ankle, a navy lining coated in a tulle that was embellished with celestial bodies. Logan was looking at the camera, his eyes just visible under the brim of his cap. His skirt was shorter, the denim flaring over his thick thighs. In this house we respect people’s right to wear whatever the fuck they want #boyswearskirtstoo

Finn stopped trying to fight the tears, letting the moisture well in his eyes. “Thank you,” he choked out, pushing himself from his chair. Leo and Logan had their arms around him before he could ask. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t seem to make the words stop, his body shaking with sobs, his boyfriend’s arms remaining sure around him until Finn wiped at his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Leo swept his thumb over Finn’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “What can we do? What do you need?”

Finn let out a heavy breath, leaning into Logan’s hold. “I think I want to send a thank you to the group chat and then snacks and cuddles? I can deal with the world tomorrow.”

“Okay then, snacks and cuddles. We deal with the world tomorrow.”

#finn o'hara #leo knut #logan tremblay #rating: t #cw: food #cw: implied bullying #cw: swearing #cw: minor illness #sweater weather #lumosinlove

[pretendingboyfriends]

A/N: it’s finally finished!! after over a month!!! i’m so sorry this has taken so long but y’all know me, i’m terrible at time management and i’m mentally ill so nothing is ever consistent <3 BUT it’s here now and it’s finished and i hope u love it. thank you to @sunflowers-styles​ and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ for beta reading and giving me ideas for when i was stuck. i’m nothing without my betas <3

Warnings: explicit language & sexual tension

Word count: 6.5k+

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Your heart is racing in your chest with every lingering moment that passes as you watch Deidre finish getting ready for the day. Her plan is to spend the afternoon with Jeffrey and then the two of you would meet back up and have a movie night (plus Harry, if he’s up for it). And you, well, you have your own plans.

“Do you think this looks good?” She asks, spinning herself around in front of the vanity mirror in the corner of the bedroom. 

You glance up from the book in your lap to see that she’s wearing a loose, white spaghetti strap dress that reaches just below her knee, pastel pink bikini peeking from beneath the fabric. You smile, “I think it looks great! What shoes are you wearing?”

She bends down to the floor, quickly grasping a pair of tan, strappy sandals. “These?” 

“Yeah,” You nod. “Those are perfect.”

“Okay,” She smiles, leaning down to slide her feet into the sandals and strap them securely onto her feet before she grabs her tote bag from the bed with a sigh.  “Okay, I’ll see you later! Meet back here at 5:00?”

You nod in confirmation, giving her a small smile and wave as she nearly skips through the bedroom door and down the hallway. As soon as she’s out of your sight you freeze, waiting for the familiar rumble of Jeffrey’s car to take off down the road with Deidre inside. Once the glorious sound kisses your ears, you’re leaping from the bed, frantically tearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants you’ve been wearing from your body to change into a tank top, loose-fitting jean shorts, and a pair of Doc Martens (bathing suit underneath, of course). 

You’re brushing a few coats of mascara onto your eyelashes after taking a record breaking 2 minutes to change into your clothes and shoes when you sense his presence in the doorway. 

“You look nice.”

You slide the applicator into the mascara container and screw the lid shut, turning your head to look at Harry as he leans against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His hair is still slightly damp from his shower, framing his face and shoulders in thick, shiny curls. Your eyes travel south, dropping to his floral, short sleeve button up, unbuttoned partially to expose his inked chest and then flickering down to his skin tight, black jeans and tan chelsea boots. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smiles in response, dimples sinking into his blushing cheeks. “You ready to go?”

“Yep,” You sigh, grabbing your bag from the floor and walking towards the bedroom door. He allows you to pass him, following closely behind you through the house before tugging the front door open for you and beckoning you outside. The air is warm and humid as you make your way towards Harry’s car, the wind whipping against you gently. 

Once you reach the car, Harry quickly beats you to the passenger side to open the door for you, flashing you a gorgeous smile as you slide into the seat. The expensive leather of the seat immediately sticks to your bare legs from the heat and humidity and you huff, lifting your legs to peel them from the material. 

Harry slides himself into the driver’s seat, immediately cranking the car and fiddling with the air conditioner knobs to blast cool air into the stuffy, hot vehicle.

“So, where are we going?” You ask once he pulls onto the empty road lined with palm trees. 

He keeps his eyes trained to the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on his jean-clad thigh. “I was thinking we could get coffee first and then I could take you to a bookstore I saw on my way in. But only if you’re okay with that,”

You smile to yourself, “I’m more than okay with that.”

A soft blanket of silence falls over both of you as Harry drives and you allow your gaze to wander his figure, from the god-like curve of his jaw to his perfectly chiseled hands. The sparkling glint of his rings in the noon sunlight catches your eye and you tilt your head slightly to get a better look at them. On his left index and middle finger are two silver rings, one with a rectangular, teal gem embedded into it, the other with a line of tiny dancing bears carved into the metal. Then, on the middle finger of his right hand, a lone silver ring with the word “peace” etched directly in the middle. They are simple pieces of jewelry, but enticing nonetheless.

Your mind wanders as your gaze does the same, falling to the curve of his plush, pink lips. It’s been a few days since you’d kissed him on the beach, tumbling into the sand like children, and you’re slightly embarrassed to admit that you haven’t stopped craving his lips since you parted ways that evening. The agreement you had made was to wait until after at least a few dates to kiss again (mainly to keep yourselves as contained as possible) but both of you are finding it increasingly hard as the time goes by. You just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

After a bit of light conversation and a 10 minute drive, you’re finally pulling into the parking lot of a little coffee shop named “Bikini Beans”.  

You chuckle as Harry parks the car directly in front of the small building. “Quite the name, huh?”

He breathes a chuckle to himself. “It was the only coffee shop I could find within 30 miles of the beach house.”

You sigh sarcastically, “I guess it will suffice,” Harry shuts off the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition before jogging around to your side of the car to, of course, open the door for you. You smile at him as you step onto the pavement, tugging your bag from the floor of the car and slinging it over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

The two of you step into the quaint coffee shop, your senses immediately overwhelmed by the pungent odor of freshly brewed coffee mixed with a hint of sugary baked goods. Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you find that the shop is nearly empty, save for the girl sitting in the back corner typing frantically at her laptop keys, brow furrowed, hair up, coffee cup empty. You follow Harry to the register where a young boy stands, waiting for the next customer to approach the counter, which just so happens to be you and Harry. 

“Hi, welcome to Bikini Beans, how can I help you!” He smiles, placing his hands on the edge of the register as he looks up at you. 

You smile back at him, shaking your head and motioning to Harry. “He can go first. I still need a moment to decide.”

He nods and looks at Harry. He clears his throat, “I’ll just have a small, iced black coffee,” The words roll off his accented tongue like a sugary glaze. “And a blueberry muffin.”

The boy takes a moment to type his order into the register and then looks up again, “Will that be all for you today?”

“That’s all for me, but make sure you include her order with mine.” He specifies, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. 

You smile to yourself as you peruse the menu, quietly mouthing the names of the different kinds of coffees and treats before deciding on what to get. “I’ll have a small cold brew with almond milk, sweetened with vanilla, please.”

“Is that all?” He quickly types your order into the register before glancing back up at you. You nod and he presses a few more buttons. “Alright, so I’ve got a small, iced black coffee; a blueberry muffin; and a small cold brew with almond milk and vanilla sweetener?” He looks back up at the two of you and both of you nod to confirm. “That’ll be $9.23.” 

Harry – having already taken a few bills from his wallet – hands the boy a crisp $10 bill and then promptly shoves another $10 into the tip jar beside the register. The boy smiles and thanks him for his generosity as he gives Harry his change. Without hesitation, Harry drops the remaining coins into the tip jar, thanks the boy, and stands to the side to allow the people behind you to step up to the register and order. 

“Trying to impress me?” You smirk, nudging your shoulder against his. 

He smiles, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

You chuckle and shake your head as you follow him to the end of the counter where another barista quickly prepares your drinks, sliding Harry’s muffin towards him. 

You turn to him,“I’ll go save us a table, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles, watching you walk off towards the small table by the window, dropping your bag into the seat across from you to save it for him. 

Within five minutes, Harry is walking towards you with both your drinks in one hand and the giant mountain of a muffin in the other. 

“Was not expecting this muffin to be so big,” He chuckles as he hands you your bag and slides into the seat across from you. “You wanna split it?”

You take a sip of your coffee through the straw, the sudden grumbling of your stomach interrupting your train of thought. You hadn’t realized how hungry you are. “Oh, sure.”

He nods, slowly peeling the paper cupcake holder from the edges of the pastry before attempting to break it in half with his hands. “I guess that’ll do.” He chuckles at himself, dusting the crumbs from his fingers.

The silence that falls between the two of you is filled with nervous glances and flustered smiles as you sip your coffee between every few bites of the muffin. Your hands graze against each other occasionally when both of you reach for the muffin at the same time, causing breathless giggles to emit from the backs of your throats.  

After a brief moment of silence, you drop your hand on the table in front of you with your palm facing  up. “Give me your hand,”

“Quite demanding there, babe.” He chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee.

You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the flutter in your tummy that’s caused by the casual use of ‘babe’ in regards to you. “Just- I wanna look at your rings, so can you please give me your hand?”

He smiles, placing his large hand into your palm which allows you to lean forward and take a closer look at the rings adorning his long fingers. “Where’d you get them?” You ask as you gently brush your fingers against the cool metal. 

“Mm,” He grunts, squinting his eyes in thought for a moment. “A few friends have gifted some to me, but I also bought some myself.”

You nod, humming in acknowledgement. “I would’ve never guessed when we were younger that you’d grow up to be a jewelry guy,”

He chuckles, “And why’s that?”

You drop your hand away from his, leaning back in your chair, “I don’t know. I mean, I thought you were cool, but I didn’t think you were really capable of being this type of cool, you know? I’d always known you as just ‘Harry’, my best friend’s kinda dorky older brother who’s also good at singing.”

“You thought I was cool?”

“Yeah, sorta. You were cool in the sense that you were always so kind and loving towards Deidre, even when you were trying to be annoying. But then you became famous and this whole new level of cool happened that made me kinda sad, if I’m being honest.” He frowns at that, sipping his coffee once more. “I mean, it wasn’t necessarily a bad type of cool, but it just made me realize that you weren’t just my best friend’s older brother anymore. You were Harry Styles, heartthrob of the century, everyone loved you and nearly everyone knew who you were all of the sudden.”

“Do you think I’ve changed a lot?” He asks after a brief pause. 

“I thought you did for a while. I’d see tabloids about you every week talking about how much of a ‘lady’s man’ you were and who your newest ‘fling’ was and I didn’t know whether to believe them or not because from my perspective of you, you weren’t like that, but I also hadn’t seen you in quite a long time so I thought that maybe it was possible that you really did change that much.”

He shakes his head. “I hate how they’ve portrayed me. I hate that they’ve made me out to be some bloke who’s only in it for the money and the girls because it’s really not true. I especially hate that you’ve had to see me like that because I don’t ever want you to see me that way.”

You smile to yourself slightly, “Don’t worry, I don’t see you that way. Not anymore, at least.”

“Good,” He sighs, smiling shyly as he takes the last piece of muffin from the plate in between the two of you and pops it into his mouth. 

“I do think you’ve got a bit of an attitude problem, though.” You hum sarcastically, watching his expression twist into feigned shock.

“An attitude problem??”

“Mhm,”

“I resent that.” He huffs, pressing back against his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“There it is!” You giggle, tilting your head to the side in a mocking manner.

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, holding back a smile as he stands, snatching his coffee cup from the table along with the plate where the remains of the muffin you’d just shared lie. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got more planned for us.”

The soft jingle of a bell sounds as the two of you step into the small book store wedged between a consignment shop and a beach souvenir shop. The song “Yesterday and Today” by Yes plays quietly in the overhead speakers as the lone employee places new books on the shelves, humming along. She looks up from her place at the shelf and smiles at both of you shyly but doesn’t say a word when you smile back, opting to continue her restocking. 

Your eyes flit around the small space that’s cramped with shelves, overflowing with books and you begin to wander aimlessly. Harry follows behind you quietly, watching as your fingers trace the spines of each book you pass. 

“Do you read a lot?” He asks as you slide a paperback book from its home on the shelf just slightly above your height. 

“I try to,” You hum in response, gazing down at the open book in your hands. “But it’s difficult most of the time.”

He nods, “I understand,” He watches your fingers sift through the delicate pages of the book, the bold, typewriter text of each page, melting into each other to form a jumbled cloud of letters. “What book is that?” He asks, stepping closer to you to get a better look at it. 

“The Philosophy of Andy Warhol,” You smile, glancing up at him as you flip the book over to its cover, displaying the iconic red and white soup can design. 

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “Andy Warhol? Really? Wasn’t he a terrible person?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, he was the worst, but he’s dead now and I like to think we can separate the art from the artist, don’t you?” 

“I guess so...” He nods in response, shrugging slightly. “I’m assuming you’ve read this, then?”

You shake your head, “Not fully, just bits and pieces. I can’t really afford to buy books for pleasure at the moment.”

He frowns to himself at that but doesn’t say anything else, just watches as you place the book back onto its home on the shelf and begin to step further into the depths of bookshelves. Harry doesn’t move from where he’s standing, though, he watches you step further away before he takes the book you had just showed him from the shelf and casually holds it behind his back as he steps closer to where you are. 

He follows you around the shop as you slowly and silently observe various different books, occasionally expressing your desire to read them after flipping through each crisp page. And, again, with each book you touch, he takes them from the shelves and collects them in his arms without a single word, hoping and praying that you stay distracted enough to not notice the growing pile of books in his arms. 

Finally, the two of you have made your way through the entire store and are now standing near the register as you bury your nose into another book. Harry mumbles something to you about buying a book that he wants and you barely even acknowledge him, too engrossed in the words that flow across the pages. It isn’t until he’s back by your side that you finally lift your head to look at him, finding his dimpled, mischievous smile reflecting back at you. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, eyebrows lifting in question.

You look up at him with a smile and a nod, closing the book in your hands and placing it back in its home, completely unaware of the paper bag he’s holding behind him. He leads you out to his car, subtly tossing the bag into the back of his car without you noticing before sliding into the driver’s seat and taking both of you to your next destination. 

Eventually, you find yourselves on the beach, sitting comfortably on a blanket Harry provided along with a few containers of food from a local restaurant. There’s a decent amount of people walking around you, yet no one seems to notice Harry. Too caught up in their own vacations to notice the literal celebrity in their midst. You aren’t complaining, though, because after a few girls approached him with a request for a photo and a hug, you’ve started to grow a little jealous. But Harry doesn’t need to know that.  

“How far d’you think I’d have to swim until my feet can’t reach the bottom?” 

You turn your head to him as you stab your plastic fork into a particularly juicy piece of orange chicken. “Mmm, I’d say about-” You glare out at the people in the water, holding your hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun, “five feet past that guy in the lime green shirt.”

He turns his head to look at where you’re referring to and tilts his head to the side. “I think it’d be a little further than that, I’m pretty tall.”

You shove the piece of chicken into your mouth as you continue to stare out into the water and shrug. “The only way to really find out is if we go out there,”

He turns his face back to yours, “Let’s go, then.” 

Immediately you drop your fork onto the blanket, frantically tearing your tank top from your body as you stand and begin to unbutton your shorts. “Race ya.” You breathe through a grunt, kicking your shorts off of your bare feet and legs to reveal your black bikini. He scrambles to his feet at that, nearly ripping his shirt from his body, but you’re already taking off in a sprint towards the water. 

Harry is quick to catch up with you after a brief moment of struggling with his jeans to reveal his tiny, yellow swim shorts. He tackles you into the water, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and taking the both of you under in one giant splash. 

“Asshole!” You screech through a giggle once you resurface, swatting at his bare chest as he cackles. You turn around with a huff, trudging forward through the water with Harry hot on your tail. 

“Hey!” He calls after you, nearly hopping through the water to catch up with you. “Hop on my back, it’ll be easier.”

You smirk, turning to face him as he stands almost waist deep in the water. He crouches down to allow you easier access to wrap your arms around his shoulders and you roll your eyes at him, giving in to his persuasions nonetheless. 

Once your legs and arms are wrapped around his waist and shoulders, he stands fully and starts walking forward again. The feeling of your warm breath against his neck causes goosebumps to litter his bare, wet skin and he tries in vain to ignore the feeling of your breasts pressed directly against his back. 

“Feet still touching the bottom?” You ask, leaning your chin against his shoulder. It comes out much shakier than you’d intended, breathed directly into his ear and you can feel Harry shutter beneath you. 

“Uh- yeah, yeah, but it’s starting to get a bit deeper.” 

At this point, you couldn’t care less about the bet you’d made with him, too distracted by the warmth of his muscular back against your embarrassingly sensitive nipples. You can tell he’s partially lost interest as well, judging by the way he grips your thighs tightly as he wades further into the water.

You’ve passed the man in the lime green shirt by now, the water slowly inching up to his shoulders which indicates your possible victory. But suddenly, he takes one more step and the water is at your own shoulders and nearly over Harry’s head completely. He’s sputtering dramatically as he stumbles backwards, finding his footing once again.

“There’s a fuckin’ drop off!” He growls, bringing his hand up to wipe the salty water from his eyes. 

You’re giggling uncontrollably as he coughs and grunts, hands leaving your thighs so that he can push his hair out of his face. You slide off of his shoulders and onto the sand beneath the water, cackling to yourself at his grumpy frown. 

You smile up at him. “I win.” 

He frowns, “Well, that’s not fair! How was I supposed to know there’s a drop off?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You tease, drawing out your words as you turn back to the shore. “I still won!”

He grumbles to himself, turning to follow you. You glance back at him, chuckling at his creased brow and arms crossed over his bare chest with his bottom lip protruding into a pout. “Still don’t think it’s fair,” He huffs in frustration. 

“Okay, well, if you really want a way to redeem yourself,” You start, turning back to him and waiting for him to catch up to where you are. “Race me back to shore.” 

His frown melts into a devious smile. “Oh, you’re on.” 

Immediately, both of you are diving into the water head first, swimming as fast as you can until the water is shallow enough for the two of you to stand and bound through the water that splashes around you. Luckily, Harry’s not much of a swimmer so you’re automatically a few feet ahead of him once you start running and before you know it, you’re crashing into the towel the two of you had laid out earlier, sand kicking up in clouds all around you. 

“And she wins once again!!” You cheer, sprawling out on the towel as he trudges towards you in defeat. 

It’s nearing 4:00 pm once the two of you return back home, stumbling through the doorway giggling and playfully nudging each other with your elbows. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower before Deidre gets home,” You sigh, tossing your bag on the couch and turning to saunter towards the bathroom. Harry catches you by your hand before you can walk away, though, tugging you back to him gently. The suddenness of it nearly knocks the breath out of you as he pulls you into him, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face. 

“I had a really good time today,” He hums, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. 

You take a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his lips before speaking. “Me too.”

“S’it alright if I kiss you?” 

“Yeah,” You breathe, taking another small step forward so that your chests are pressed together. 

He smiles at that, leaning in and slowly capturing your lips between his own. His other hand finds its place at the base of your spine, holding you against him as your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, his lips suckling yours ever so softly with each tilt of his head. Small, labored puffs of air leave your nose as you stand pressed against each other, each kiss building the fire within you. 

Finally, Harry pulls away, breathlessly grinning down at you and gently brushing his thumb along the skin of your cheek. You smile back, taking a long, shaky breath in an attempt to regain your thoughts before leaning in once more. 

He meets you halfway, tugging you into him again with a surging passion as he presses his lips to yours. He starts walking forward towards the wall, causing you to trip on your own feet a few times before he has you pressed firmly against it, knee wedged between your bare thighs.

“Wanted to kiss you all afternoon,” He breathes between kisses, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips.

You whimper quietly. “Why didn’t you?” 

“Didn’t know if you wanted me to,”

“I always want you to kiss me,”

He pauses at that, pulling away to look at you with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nod, biting back a smile. “Haven’t stopped thinking about the other day on the beach.”

“Me neither.” He huffs, lunging forward to capture your lips again. 

He kisses you for just a moment longer, both hands cupping your cheeks gently as your own hands grasp his wrists. Then, he stops, slowly allowing his lips to part from yours and stepping away from you with a smirk. 

“Don’t take too long in the shower, I wanna take one too.” He winks. 

You watch him walk away after that, acting as if nothing had just happened as he disappears down the hallway. You’re breathlessly leaning against the wall, mustering every bit of strength inside of you to push yourself off of it and walk on wobbly legs to the bathroom. 

What the fuck?

It takes nearly everything inside of you not to scratch the proverbial itch of desire whilst your hands wander your naked form, but you only intended on taking a quick shower and you don’t want to raise any suspicions. So, reluctantly, you rinse yourself off beneath the steady stream of hot water before turning off the faucet and stepping out of the shower to perform your skincare routine. 

Soon, you’re scurrying into your bedroom with a towel wrapped tightly around your body, calling: “Shower’s open!” to Harry before slamming the door shut. 

As you’re pulling an old t-shirt on, you notice a brown paper bag sitting on your bed and you frown, reaching into it. It’s filled with books. A smile brims at the corners of your lips as you take each book from the bag. Every single one of them is a book you’d talked about wanting when the two of you had walked through the bookstore earlier and you can’t help but feel a small tug at your heart at the prospect of Harry actually listening to your ramblings and taking note of all the books you’d talked about wanting. 

You tuck the bag away with your things before tugging a pair of sweatpants on and stepping out into the hallway. You find yourself wandering into the kitchen, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a soda from the shelf before swinging it back closed. Just as you crack open the can of soda, the door opens and in waltzes Deidre, tossing her bag to the side. 

“Shit- Is the shower open? Really need one,” She says to you, running her fingers through her damp hair with a huff. Her dress is thrown over her figure haphazardly, damp from the wet bathing suit beneath it, indicating that she must’ve just returned from the pool or beach. 

“Harry’s in there right now, but I’m sure he’ll be done soon,” You shrug, taking a sip from the can of soda. “Did you have a good time?”

 “I had an amazing time,” She smirks as she tugs her sandals off and lets them tumble onto the floor. “I’ll explain everything later, though.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh?”

She wiggles her own eyebrows suggestively, snickering with a devilish smile before disappearing into the hallway. You saunter over to the couch, taking a moment to grab the TV remote before collapsing into the cushions with your legs tucked beneath you. 

The steady stream of the shower comes to a nearly screeching halt and 5 minutes pass before the door to the bathroom swings open and out comes Harry, soaking wet with nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. 

“Y’lookin’ for a movie to watch?” He asks, fingers gliding through his sopping curls as he stands in the doorway. 

“Uh-” You swallow the lump in your throat, trying in vain not to let your eyes wander to the loose edge of his towel. “Yeah. Got any requests?”

He shrugs, “I love a good Rom-Com, but I really don’t mind anything.”

You nod, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You watch as he steps into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him quietly and leaving you alone in the living room. Moments later, Deidre bounds out of your shared bedroom and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a snorted giggle. 

Scrolling through Netflix on the TV, you land on the Rom-Com section, taking a moment to look through it. Harry’s door swings open and he walks through, towelling off his long, wet hair as he saunters into the living room. He’s wearing a tight, black t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts that allow his tiger tattoo to peek through ever so slightly.  

“Find anything yet?” He asks, wrapping the towel around his neck before plopping himself down on the couch beside you.

You shake your head, glancing in his direction briefly before continuing to click through the limited options. The smell of his shampoo wafts into your direction and immediately you’re overwhelmed with the urge to tackle him on the spot, smothering him with your own mouth against his. His presence brings an animalistic side out of you and it takes everything in you not to give in, especially with the way he’d kissed you only just an hour before.

“You alright?” He interrupts your lustful train of thought, nudging his shoulder against yours. 

You clear your throat quietly, shaking your head a little. “Uh- yeah, sorry. Got distracted,” 

He smirks to himself, staring straight ahead to hide his tickled expression. “You gonna choose a movie or am I gonna have to take that remote from you and do it myself?” 

You whip your head in his direction, gaping at him as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

He giggles and lunges forward, grasping for the remote in your hand but you move quickly, yanking your hand back behind you as you scramble to the edge of the couch. You giggle obnoxiously, kicking your feet at him to keep him as far away from you as you can, but his reflexes are just as quick as yours and soon he’s grasping one of your ankles to allow him just enough leverage to tackle you. 

“Harry!” You squeal as he shoves his arms beneath you in search of the remote in your hand. He chortles down at you with a devilish smile when his nimble fingers find your wrist. Immediately, you tear your arm away from his fingers, throwing it above your head with the remote grasped tightly between your fingers. 

“Fuck- you’re fast,” He grunts, taking a moment to shake his head in defeat. His tone and words prick a familiar nerve within you and you restrain yourself from squeezing your thighs together, bottom lip slipped firmly between your teeth. 

“That’s what she said,” You retort, snorting loudly at your own joke. He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up more so that he can reach your hand, but you outsmart him once again, kneeing him in the hip and causing him to topple off of the couch and onto the carpeted floor. 

“Fuck’s sake, babe. M’gonna be black and blue by the end of this,” He groans, sitting up as he rubs his elbow with a pout on his lips.

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh, please, I was barely even trying,” You allow yourself to relax back against the couch, scrolling through the movie options once again as Harry lifts himself from the floor but before you can even process what’s happening he’s swiftly yanking the remote from your hand and plopping himself beside you. “Asshole!” You gasp, reaching back for it frantically. 

He’s chuckling devilishly under his breath, holding his long arm away from you and moving it every way you reach. “Gonna have to try harder then, I guess,” 

You clamber over him, both knees landing on either side of his legs as your fingers grasp the remote over his hand. The compromising position the two of you are in is admittedly the last thing on your mind as you scramble for the remote, but when his free hand falls to your waist, gripping you gently, a breath catches in your throat and you pause. You make eye contact with him, your faces merely inches apart and suddenly the remote doesn’t really matter anymore. 

He smiles a little, licking his lips when his eyes flicker to yours. The hand holding the remote falls onto the armrest of the couch, causing yours to fall with it. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or just keep staring at my lips?” You mutter, bringing your hand up to the side of his neck. 

“Gonna let me have the remote if I do?” 

“Fuck the remote.” You grunt before charging forward, lips colliding with his in a searing kiss. 

His arms are quick to circle your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as you hold his face between your hands, lips moving together in a symphony of uncoordinated movements. One of your hands slides down to grip his t-shirt, desperate to have him as close as possible and then suddenly, the bathroom door swings open and you’re sent leaping off of Harry, scrambling to the other end of the couch. 

Both of you are breathless and flustered as Deidre walks in, whistling to herself and completely oblivious to the way you and Harry are practically shivering at each corner of the couch. 

“Did you guys pick a movie yet?”

You clear your throat before sighing shakily. “Uh- no, not yet,” 

“Jeez,” she scoffs, “been in the shower for at least 10 minutes what the fuck have you lot been up to?” 

Heat crawls along the apples of your cheeks and you glance in Harry’s direction with a panicked look on your face. He’s flushed bright red, giving you a sheepish smile before you turn away again. Luckily, Deidre has wandered into the kitchen making herself a snack of some sort, oblivious to the way you two are looking at each other, flustered and slightly shaken by what she’d interrupted. 

“I’m really in the mood to watch The Notebook,” Deidre calls from the kitchen, popping her head through the opening and raising her eyebrows at the two of you in question. 

Harry shrugs, “I’m down,” 

“Yeah, same,” You agree, clearing your throat awkwardly as you tuck your legs beneath you. Both you and Harry are suppressing sheepish grins, barely glancing at each other out of the corners of your eyes. 

“The Notebook it is, then.” He concludes, clicking through the Netflix menu to find it. 

When Deidre returns to the living room, she comes bearing a bag of microwave popcorn, a bag of cheetos, and three cans of soda (per Harry’s request). Of course, with your luck, she decides to plop herself between the two of you, leaving you and Harry to give each other subtle looks of distaste from across the couch. And, once the movie starts, you’re forced to act as if you hadn’t just been making out with your best friend’s older brother right on this very couch. 

The movie goes by fast since it’s nearly your 4th time watching it, and for the entire 2 hour film you’re forced to sit across the length of the couch from Harry when all you want to do is cuddle into his side. A few spare glances are shared throughout the time and judging by the way his eyebrows lift, his feelings are similar to yours. Nevertheless, you persevere through the movie until the credits are rolling and tears are streaming down your face.

“You guys are seriously crying? I know you’ve both seen this movie more than once,” Deidre scoffs at both you and Harry as she turns the TV off.

“How are you not crying?” You sniffle, wiping the moisture from underneath your eyes with your hands. You glance in Harry’s direction to see the tears welling up in his eyes as he stares at her in disgust. 

She looks at him and rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, you’re both just big babies,” She stands from the couch, yanking the empty popcorn bag from the coffee table in front of the couch, huffing, “I’m going to bed. You two are ridiculous.”

You watch as she walks to the kitchen, chuckling to herself before you turn back to Harry who’s laughing through his own tears. 

“We are pretty pathetic,” He snickers, pushing his hair out of his face and shaking his head. 

“No,” You huff. “We just aren’t heartless like she is.” You stand from the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and sauntering down the hallway to your bedroom. 

You find yourself getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth and performing your nightly routines just as you would every night. This time, however, the only thing on your mind is Harry. The way his hands held you so gently, lips drawing kiss after kiss from your own effortlessly as if he’d memorized every little thing that makes you shiver. The way he says your name when he speaks to you and maintains eye contact throughout every conversation, making it apparent to you that he’s listening to every word that leaves your lips. He actually cares about what you’re telling him and he speaks to you in such an attentive, selfless way. He makes you feel like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted to talk to. And, as much as you haven’t wanted to admit it to yourself, you’re beginning to think that this is more than just a crush. 

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[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

#reader insert #monster romance #female reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #my writing #vampire

[secretsickysideblog]

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione. 

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place. 

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated. 

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm. 

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt. 

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity. 

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway. 

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly. 

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.” 

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black. 

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in. 

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves. 

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning. 

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway. 

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly. 

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.” 

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later. 

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it. 

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.” 

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore. 

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise. 

#sicktember #sicktember2021 #jjba sickfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure sickfic #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #bruno x abbacchio #bruabba sickfic #sick!bruno #caring!abbacchio #sickfic #fever #nice first post

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | three

A/N: Thanks again for your positive feedback on this mini-series!  Please keep those canon questions coming as you guys know I loooove answering them to help build the canon!  This one is a short one but it will be made up for by the last two chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                 *     *     *     *     *

Brock and Grace were having fun.  Actual, genuine, real fun.  Whenever they were together, they were smiling and laughing and kissing and having a good time.  They’d go out to eat at Vancouver’s best restaurants.  They’d take walks in parks or along the seawall.  They’d get coffee at cute little cafés and munch on bespoke cookies or donuts that would make Brock complain about extra hours in the gym.  They’d invite Elias and Svea with them and it would be great, because they were great, and they’d all just be constantly laughing.  Grace and Svea got closer – much closer.  Elias and Brock were tearing it up for the Canucks.  Grace and Svea would go to bars for a glass of wine before going to games together.  They’d cheer and clap and sing along with all the songs being blasted throughout the arena.

Fun.  Life was fun.  

***

“How do I bite it?!” Brock was incredulous at the size of the cupcake Grace got him.  It was bigger than his jaw could open.  Elias and Svea were already ready with their damn phones to film him.  “I can’t…” he tried to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just put the whole thing in your mouth!” Grace exclaimed.

“That’s what she said,” Elias mumbled, only to garner a disapproving mother look from Brock and a slap on the arm from Svea.  “What!  Isn’t that the joke?!”

“Don’t be crass,” Svea chastised before focusing her attention back on Brock.  “Just bite the thing, Brock.  Just…just stuff it in there,” he pretended to do the motion herself.

“Again, that’s what she said.”

Grace hit Elias too this time.  

***

“You can get us reservations to Hawksworth?” Svea asked in shock.  

Grace nodded casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world to get a reservation at Vancouver’s best and most exclusive restaurant.  “The Gillespie’s own the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.”

“You do?”

Grace nodded again before sucking back on an oyster.  “When do you want to eat there?”

“Oh, I – I don’t know.  Can I get back to you?”

“Of course!  Just let me know.”

“Wow Grace,” Svea said.  “You really do have the world at your fingertips.  Vancouver especially.”

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  “It’s a blessing and a curse.  I can’t go anywhere without running into someone that knows my dad or knows who I am and thinks they know me.  It’s even worse when they knew my dad a long time ago and only ask about how he’s doing with his Parkinson’s now.  Most of the time they don’t even truly care.  And I’d trade it all in, every single penny, if it meant my dad never got Parkinson’s.”

Svea couldn’t imagine living that kind of life.  She didn’t know how Grace did it – or Brock, for that matter.  She would be a sobbing mess on the floor every single day.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be insensitive when I—”

“Oh God no.  No no no – you don’t need to apologize.  I just…” Grace paused, trying to collect her thoughts.  “I know how fortunate I am, believe me.  I just don’t think people know that – that I know I’m fortunate.  But Parkinson’s – any chronic illness – it really humbles you.  Most people don’t know what that’s like.  And like, thank God they don’t.  But they think they know.”

All Svea could do was nod her head and listen.

***

Whenever Brock sent a text that said ‘come over and watch a movie’ Grace knew what that really meant.  But instead of finding it lewd, she’d slather on some raspberry chapstick and be on her merry way to Brock’s apartment.

When they were done, and lying in bed together, with her head on his chest and her hair sprawled everywhere, that’s when the talking would begin.  “How’s your dad doing?”  “Are the new round of meds working?”  “Is he having more trouble getting up now?”  “What are the doctors saying?”  “How’s his memory?”  “How’s the swallowing?”  “Are the doctors recommending speech therapy?”  

“When I quit dance, my dad was so disappointed,” Grace revealed one night as Brock was running his hands through her hair.  “It was the only thing I was ever really, really good at.  I wasn’t the best in school.  I just didn’t get things the way other kids did.  And when I told him the reason, he made me promise I’d keep doing dance in some capacity.  I maybe wouldn’t do it super-competitively anymore with him driving me all around BC and flying me all over Canada and the US to attend competitions, but I’d still do it.  That’s why I teach at the Goh Ballet.  Like…I know I’m not the smartest girl in the world, but I like to think I have a big heart.  And I just hope that people see that.”

“I wear number six because it was my dad’s number,” Brock revealed too, one night when they were alone.  “I wanted…I wanted to make sure that if he wasn’t around, my career would still honour him in some way.  I want that to be my legacy…like, everything I do, I do for my dad.”

Grace nodded.  She completely understood.  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who knows and understands exactly what I’m going through,” she said.  “Do you think it was fate that brought us together at that meeting?”

Brock found himself nodding his head automatically.  “Of course,” he said softly.

***

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have you at the house for dinner, Brock, but our chef is on vacation,” Eliza Carmichael, Grace’s mom, smiled from across the table as she sipped on her glass of wine.  From beside her, her husband, Grace’s step-dad James kept perusing the menu, as did Grace’s two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo, who were seated at opposite heads of the table.  

“Oh that’s no problem at all,” he smiled politely, grabbing Grace’s hand underneath the table and squeezing it gently before putting it in his lap.  “I actually come here with the boys sometimes.  The food here is amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it?  James knows the head chef,” she said.  “Grace tells me you’re a hockey player.”

It was at that point that James put down his menu.  “Honey, he plays for the Vancouver Canucks.  We’ve been over this.”

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully before picking up her menu.  It was only at that point that Brock noticed the giant rock on her finger.  It was the size of his eyeball.  “Grace tells me you live in Shaughnessy,” he said, trying to make polite conversation.  “I hear that’s a beautiful neighbourhood.”

“Oh, it is.  Perfect place for the quiet life hockey player’s lead,” James joked.  Brock forced out a chuckle.

***

“I love this song!!!” Grace exclaimed as the DJ began to play some old school Rihanna.  She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass against the bar before grabbing Brock’s arm with one hand and Svea’s hand with the other, knowing that Svea would, on instinct, grab Elias’s arm and drag him to the dance floor too.

The club was completely unstuffy.  There were no girls dressed to the nines, no four-inch stiletto heels digging into Grace’s feet, no people showing up just to be seen in booths with bottle service.  It was completely unpretentious and that’s how Grace liked it.  Considering her lifestyle and her wealth, it was actually how she liked everything.  So when the DJ began playing pop songs, she couldn’t help but start dancing uncontrollably.  To his credit, Brock did too.  It was like he lost all his inhibitions and began moving his body in tune with the music.  Even Elias and Svea did, and Grace knew how…well, quiet they were.  This wasn’t their scene at all but they were having the time of their life dancing with each other, spinning each other around and moving to the beat of the music.  

For at least a night, Grace could forget.  She could forget how her parents used her to get back at one another during an awful divorce.  She could forget her mom re-married an equally as nice guy as her dad but became more pretentious as the years went on and the wealth accumulated.  She could forget that she made the decision to quit dancing professionally.  She could forget her dad had Parkinson’s.  For one night, everything was perfect.  Everything was fun.  Everything was how it should be.

***

“Fuuuuck, baby,” Brock groaned as he watched Grace climb on top of him, leaning forward so she could press his breasts up against his face.  He immediately took the opportunity to place wet, open mouth kisses all over her breasts, kissing down to her nipples before taking them in his mouth.  He could feel her grab his cock and lower herself onto it, sighing at the feeling of him filling her up.  “Feel good?”

“You always feel amazing,” she smiled, her hair falling around her face.  “That’s why I can’t stop fucking you.”

Brock chuckled, a cocky smile on his face as he reached up and brought Grace’s face down so he could kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat.  “Ride me, baby,” he mumbled against her lips.

Grace began rocking her hips back and forth, her body moving so expertly and so in tune with Brock’s.  Almost immediately, she began to moan, and Brock grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers so she’d have something to brace against.  Brock was in a trance – as he usually was when Grace was riding.  He was completely and utterly transfixed by her in every sense of the word, and in every way; from the hair on her head to the red nail polish on her toes.  

“God, I fucking love you, Grace.”

The words had barely escape Brock’s mouth before he realized the magnitude of what he said, how he said it, and when he’d fucking said it.  God, he was such a fucking idiot!!!!!  During sex?!  Really?!  Way to live the cliché Brock Boeser!  Way to be a fucking idiot and—

“I fucking love you too, Brock,” he heard Grace say, a smile adorned on her face.  The both of them giggled, and couldn’t stop giggling for a while even though she was still riding him.  It was miraculous.  “Way to say it for the first time while I’m riding you,” she joked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said.  

“You’re lucky I love you, because that’s such an amateur move, Brock.”

#brock boeser #brock boeser iimagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser fan fic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks fan fic #brock boeser blurb #vancouver canucks blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #peaceful easy feeling series

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 26: Sick

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

You finally see where they sleep and get to take care of them a little bit. Finally. And Kung Lao is back! Yay!

A/N: I missed writing Kung Lao so much, I didn't realize how much until I was writing him again. He feeds into my sarcastic insides. My biggest suggestion for reading anything I write is to add sarcasm in your head. Lol. Hope you guys are doing well! I got home yesterday but had this chapter prepped and ready to go since I knew I'd be jetlagged today. Smooches.

Part 25 Part 27 Chapter Index

You rejoined Liu Kang who had very much still been watching you. He no longer made any attempt to hide it.

“Everything alright?” He looked weary. You couldn’t un-notice it.

“Yeah. Chen wanted to catch up, but I told her later.” Was it just you or had he gotten paler? You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, and he was radiating heat. But Liu Kang was always a little warmer than most. He pulled your hand away from his forehead and chuckled under his breath.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. “Careful down here, by the way. The monks can be a little…” He drifted off.

“Yeah, they’re huge drama queens and gossips. I know. You have no idea how much I know.”

“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the floor ahead of you, as if to purposely avoid eye contact with you. “They are all very nice, but they are also… as you put it… dramatic.”

“I can handle it. I think they’re kind of funny. Besides, I got used to being gossiped around as a kid.” You walked slowly with him through the halls, not exactly sure where you were headed, dragging your bag behind you. “How are you feeling?”

“What, are you worried about me?” He grinned mischievously.

“I am never going to live that down, am I?” You groaned.

“Nope. But it is very sweet that you do. I’m okay. I don’t feel like I have a fever. I’m sore and tired but it has been a wild few days, Y/N.”

“It has been.” You walked, somewhat aimlessly. “Are you going to rest?”

“Yes. Doctor’s orders.”

“How very well behaved of you.”

“My constitution is usually reliable when it comes to illness but if Kung Lao has that high a fever, then I should be careful. Usually, I’d ignore these orders for a little fever but I’m taking the effects of these artifacts very seriously. I know my limits. I don’t know theirs.”

“Is it okay if I make sure that you get back to your room to rest?”

“Oh?” He stopped walking and so you did the same. He stepped closer to you and stood over you and you straightened your posture in response. He tilted your chin up to him, pushing his boundaries with. He smirked which was the most beautiful expression you ever saw him make. “Worried?”

“Oh, god.” You made a sound of disgust. “Yes. Okay? I’m worried about you. Are you happy now?”

“Very.” Liu considered and then resumed his walk next to you. You joined him, relieved that you’d finally kept your composure in front of him. Liu Kang getting that closer to you? He knew what he was doing. You were beginning to think that they both knew exactly what they were doing and were in cahoots! They were cahooting! “I’m fine, Y/N, but yes you may accompany me.”

“I’m sorry for all of that, by the way.” You followed his lead down the hall and up a flight of stairs. “The worry thing, that is. I don’t mind that you worry about me. You were right. I got so far in my head that I was up my own ass.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know this has been difficult. I appreciate you taking the time to clarify things. I’m still going to tease you about it. I’m not sorry for that.” Liu led you through a door at the end of the hall. You stopped in the doorway to take in his space. His windows were covered with various draped cloths. There were scrolls hung on the walls, shelves of books, a desk, prayer beads, incense, and a prayer mat nearby. His bed was neatly made.

“It’s funny. This is exactly how I pictured your room.”

“Oh?” Liu turned to you in surprise. “You pictured it, did you?”

“I did. I pictured more books though.” You rolled your eyes at him as he teased you but couldn’t help but smile. You liked that he was teasing you a little bit. It was cute.

“I donate most of my books to the library when I’m done with them to share with everyone so that was not an incorrect assumption.” He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his elbows on his knees, hand over his left eye.

“Are you okay?” You risked being teased to worry about him again, crouching in front of him to catch his gaze.

“Headache.” He was looking gray.

“I’ll be right back.” You left his room, abandoning your little bag. You felt his eyes on you until they could no longer be. On each floor there were several rooms where waterflow had been setup in a rudimentary system that you were thankful for. You found the closest one to Liu’s room, filled a bowl with cold water, grabbed a clean cloth, and then returned to his room. You set the bowl on the little table next to his bed and then dipped the cloth in it. Then you wrung it out and gently dabbed at his forehead and held it next to his eye in hopes it would offer him some relief from the headache. He was watching you with deep admiration. It radiated from him. Sometimes Liu didn’t have to say what he was thinking because you could just tell.

“Thank you.”

“Just returning the favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know. I want to help you though.”

Liu laid back on his bed and you sat on the edge of it next to him and brushed his hair away from his face gently. You could see why he enjoyed doing that to you. “You can stay with me if you want.” You mentally revisited that morning almost immediately and decided you should clear your head instead.

“I’ll stay until I’m sure that you’re resting. If you want, I can read to you the way that you used to for me.”

“I’d like that.”

You stood and perused his books.

There were a handful set atop the bookshelf that were about Huangshan and then even more about ancient curses. You took the book about Huangshan and found where he’d marked in the middle of the book and sat next to him again. You rested the book in your lap, took the wet cloth, and rested it on his forehead, above his eye. His skin was hotter than usual. The fever had gotten worse even over the few minutes that it had taken you to get to his room.

Then you read to him, trying to be as clear and concise as he had been. It was soothing to watch him as he listened to you. He rested one hand on your lap and closed his eyes. Before you knew it, he had fallen asleep. You closed the book and marked your spot. Liu was pale and you took the cloth from his face. Hopefully, the fever didn’t last very long but it had also felt wonderful to take care of him. You knew you didn’t owe him anything, but it was nice to be able to return his kindness.

You sat with him for a few more moments then set the book on the nightstand, tucked him in, and left. Now you just had to find and check on Kung Lao. You dragged your bag behind you deciding you would blindly search the same floor. Besides, this would keep you busy and well, a 104 fever was nothing to laugh at.

You didn’t have to search for long. When you turned the corner, there was Kung Lao, walking right toward you.

“Hey you! You seen Liu?” Kung Lao was pale and had bags beneath his eyes. You could tell with one look at him that he was clammy. Even his usually rosy lips were ashen.

“Yes, but he’s asleep. Not feeling well.” You gestured behind you and then stepped closer and poked his chest. “You are as white as a sheet, Kung Lao.”

“I’m fine. Are you doing okay? I was worried after you left, and I came down with this annoying fever.”

“Unlike you, I am actually fine. Whatever this is? It hit you guys. I dodged it.”

“Because you’re already cursed, right? So, you’re used to feeling like garbage all the time?”

“Wow, that makes me feel great. Thanks, Lao. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I need to talk to Liu first.”

“Well, Liu is sleeping. Talk to him tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he whined, pouting and batting his eyelashes. “But it’s important!”

“Is this something that I could help you with in his stead? I’m going to insist that you let him rest.”

“Well, I need to talk to Liu about something, but you can take my temperature so that I don’t have to go back to the stupid infirmary. Then you could lie to them and tell them I’m fine. Wait, scratch that, you’re a terrible liar. They’ll never believe you.”

“I don’t understand why you hate it there so much. They’re nice.” You placed the back of your hand to his forehead and pulled it back in alarm. “Yeah, wow, you are on fire. Please got to bed. I can’t force you, but I can annoy you until you do.”

“Dammit. Stupid bell,” he grumbled.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to go get some medicine to help with it or something?”

“No. I won’t. You took my temperature. That counts as checking in.” Kung Lao snapped and you cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Fine. Okay. Yeah. You know what? Fine.” He sighed and pulled off his hat long enough just to push his sweaty hair back. “They’re very nice. You’re right. I know that but I don’t like being confined there or poked at or told what to do. And I don’t care for doctors in general.”

“Why? They’re just trying to help.”

He avoided your eyes and looked at his feet with a pout. “Bad memories.”

“Childhood trauma? Lao…”

“Memories of someone who had a rough time with doctors.”

“What? Me? I’m the cause of all this?”

“Of course, you. You used to come back from those stupid doctors crying or feeling worse off from a treatment for something that wasn’t treatable with medicine.” He looked very much like a defiant child in that moment.

“They were trying to help me, Kung Lao. They had never meant to hurt me.”

“Yeah, well I hated watching you suffer. So there.”

“Wow,” you laughed beneath your breath. Honestly, you were a little touched. You’d had no idea that the short time you’d spent together as kids had such a profound impact upon him. It had on you too, you supposed. No man had ever stood up to Kung Lao. At least not before Liu Kang. “It’s kind of sweet.”

“No, it’s very not sweet.”

“It’s a lot sweet, actually.”

“Please stop.”

“Come on, Kung Lao. You need rest.” You decided not to tease him in his moment of weakness. You would hold onto that information for later though. When he was feeling better, all bets were off. You grabbed his arm and began to guide him in the direction that he’d been coming from.

“Where are you taking me? To your room? To force me to rest?” He grinned.

“No, I’m expecting you to guide me back to your room so that I can force you to rest.”

“Oh, that is closer I guess.” He gestured behind him and turned you around and then stopped to sway and regain his balance. He really was sick. You needed to get him to bed. “This way. Though, I don’t need to go to bed. I’m fine.” Despite his objections he led you down the hallway and presumably toward his room.

“Says the man who almost fell over just turning around. Do you want to end up back in the infirmary?”

“No,” he snapped again.

“Then you need to rest, Lao.”

“Yes, mom.” He rolled his eyes but then turned a corner and led you into the room just on the other side of it. You were surprised when he opened the door. It was tidy. And organized. He had a collection of weapons on one wall, a prayer mat that looked like it had never been used, and a series of ropes tied from wall to wall on one side of the room that you guessed were for movement practice. His bed was unmade but everything else was put away.

“I did not expect this.”

“What?”

“I expected chaos.”

“I have been trained my whole life to be disciplined, Y/N. To have control and respect.”

“Not in my experience with you.”

He laughed and then held his sore side and coughed with a whine. You heaved a sigh and he slowly turned his gaze and whined. “Okay, so maybe I need rest.”

“Uh, yeah.” You nudged his shoulder carefully. “You went through so many doors the other day and now… this fever. Rest will help.”

“Fine.” He kicked off his shoes and then crawled into bed. It was clear to you that he was trying to save face by not whining or wincing as he laid back. It was cute. You tucked him in, and he shivered. You sat next to him. He admired you and then nodded toward his side.

“You still confused?”

You turned your gaze and stiffened up. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. You need rest.”

“That’s a big ol’ yes.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m cold. Thought maybe you could keep me warm.” He batted his eyelashes at you again. “Kiss me and make me feel better?” He couldn’t keep a straight face while he said it.

“I’m leaving now, Lao.” You stood and he reached for your hand to stop you. It was wrapped in gauze.

“Y/N?” His playful tone had faded.

“What?”

“Stay until I’m asleep? No funny business, I promise.”

How could you say no to that? You’d melted. “Yeah, I can do that.” You sat on the floor next to his bed, resting your back against it. You sat quietly and he tucked his arm back beneath the blankets.

“…did you kiss Liu again?”

“You’re making it really hard for me to stay, Lao.”

He laughed. “So defensive. Okay.” He tilted his head toward you so you turned and leaned with your arms resting against his mattress. He’d done the same for you on more than one occasion. Your grandma wouldn’t let him in on days where you’d been particularly ill or had a bad visit to the doctor. So, he had instead climbed in through your bedroom window and sat next to your bed, arms folded just like yours were now. He’d made you laugh. Stayed with you while you’d slept. You’d forgotten about those tender moments. In your grief, you had forgotten many things about him. “Thanks for not bailing on me when I’m frustrating.”

“You should be grateful.” You teased but in truth you had no real desire to leave until after you were certain he was resting. It didn’t take long. Only moments after he’d allowed his body to rest, he’d fallen asleep. He had needed it. You waited some time afterward to make certain he was really sleeping and not just faking it. He couldn’t be trusted.

He was sweet when he slept.

You had to make your choice. There was no more putting it off.

You’d mull over it the remainder of the day while they rested and then you would decide. You weren’t sure how you were going to make that decision or how you would tell them about it but you would figure it out. You weren’t scared of it anymore.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #liu kang #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #fanfic #drabble #fluff #mk movie #arcana #female reader #reader insert #liu kang x you #kung lao x you #drama #romance #fanfiction #ludi lin #max huang #liu kang/you #kung lao/you #the oncoming storm #angst

[vannahfanfics]

Hi! Can you please do an alphabet for Soo-won? Thank you! ☺

Thank you for your Ko-fi donation! 🥰 It means so much, and it was put to great use with all the studying I had to do 🥴 Now, onto your fluff alphabet!

Fluff Alphabet: Soo-Won

A-   Activities: How do they spend their time with their s/o?

Soo-won is very busy attending to his kingly duties, so unfortunately, his time is limited. Still, he knows how important it is to show his s/o attention. When the pressure gets too much, he often invites his s/o for a walk around the palace garden. He loves meandering through the plants, holding hands with his darling as they discussing their day. It is a brief moment of respite in all his responsibilities, which he greatly adores. 

Most of the time Soo-Won spends with his s/o is at night. He will often slip into their bower--if his s/o isn’t already waiting at his-- for some much-needed cuddles. It is about as unguarded as Soo-won gets, lying in the arms of his lover as the weight of the world and his illness bears down on him. He just needs the silent comfort of his s/o holding him to their chest and caressing his long hair. 

B- Body: What does this character appreciate about their s/o? What part of their body are they most proud of, and in reverse, what body part are they ashamed of and how do they respond to their s/o gushing over it?

Soo-won loves his partner’s hands. He loves holding them, breathing on them to warm them up if they’re cold, kissing their palms and knuckles and fingertips. He also loves it when his partner is caressing him, especially his hair. 

As far as Soo-Won goes, he really doesn’t think too much about his body, either negatively or positively. He’s got so much else on his mind than to worry about physical self-esteem. He will get a little coy, though, if his s/o compliments any part of him. It’s not something he’s used to, and very soon it will become his favorite part of him simply because his s/o loves it so much. 

C- Cuddles: Is this character a cuddler? What is their favorite way to cuddle?

As previously mentioned, Soo-Won definitely seeks out cuddles at the end of his hard days toiling away in bureaucracy. His favorite way to cuddle is pressing his face into his s/o’s belly or chest while they run their fingers through his hair; it’s an easy way for him to relax and doze. 

D- Dreams: How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sadly, Soo-Won knows his days are numbered, so he tries not to think about a future with his s/o because he knows the odds of them spending any significant amount of time together are slim. Sometimes, however, he’ll fantasize about an ideal world. He dreams about bringing Kouka Kingdom to its glory and then handing off the throne so he can retire with his s/o in their ancestral land. He wouldn’t have any children, because he doesn’t want to pass on the Crimson Illness, but he would adopt orphans, several of them. Living in peace among nature, far away from the toils or royal life--in an ideal world, that’s what he would want. 

E- Equivalence: Is this character the dominant force in the relationship, are they passive, or is the relationship more or less even?

Soo-Won isn’t a very domineering force, not in relationships, at least. He is very much content to let his s/o call many of the shots; he appreciates someone who is capable. He very much views relationships as a partnership that requires equal work, but many times due to his royal responsibilities, his s/o ends up taking on more of running their relationship. 

F- Fights: How does this character respond to arguments with their s/o? What would they fight about, and who would cave and apologize first?

Soo-Won can remain very level-headed in arguments. Oftentimes, it isn’t even really a fight. The only thing he and his s/o would probably fight about is if Soo-Won has been paying less attention to them lately. Soo-Won would instantly admit to that and spend a lot of energy making up for that fact. He hates his s/o feeling neglected, and knows full well that he can get too absorbed in his goals sometimes and end up pushing them away. He is more than willing to apologize for that because it is his fault. 

G- Gratitude: How does this character show their s/o that they are grateful?

Though he has little time, Soo-Won definitely tries to do little things to let his s/o know that he’s thinking of them and grateful for sticking with him. He’ll have flowers delivered to their room with little love notes, or plan surprise lunches or dinners in the garden for them. Sometimes he’ll just take the day off, despite his council’s misforgivings, and spirit his s/o away into town to just walk around. He will definitely buy them some pretty little trinket while they’re out perusing. 

H- Honeymoon: If this character had a honeymoon with their s/o, where would they go?

If he had to choose a place to go honeymoon, it would probably be the land of the Water Tribe. There are lots of pretty natural settings where they could spend a few days away from the triflings of royal life, lounging about. Of course, Soo-Won knows that he can’t run away from the throne for days on end, but it is nice to dream about sometimes. 

I- Insecurity: What is this character insecure about? How do they deal with their insecurities with their s/o?

Soo-Won worries that he won’t be able to achieve his goals before the Crimson Illness claims him. It is inevitable that his s/o discovers it, and once they do, they are the only person he opens up to about how much it weighs on him and how afraid he is that he will fail in his endeavor. 

J- Jealousy: Is this character the jealous type? How do they deal with being jealous?

Soo-Won is not the jealous type at all. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, firstly, and he has the utmost faith in his s/o. He knows that they love him and have no intentions of bothering with anyone else. Besides, if anyone ventures too near to his beloved, all it takes is a pointed look from Joo-Doh to send them packing...

K- Kiss: What does the character want their first kiss to be like with their s/o? How does it end up happening?

Soo-Won doesn’t think too hard about planning the first kiss. When the mood strikes him, he just gently tips up their chin and kisses them softly. It’s exceptionally romantic and will definitely catch his s/o by surprise!

L- Love Confession: How does this character first profess their love to their s/o?

Similar to their first kiss, Soo-Won doesn’t excessively plan out his confession to his beloved. He just blurts it out, probably while he’s just gazing at his s/o while they ramble on about their day or some other trivial topic. Just captivated how cute and wonderful they are, he just can’t help but say what’s on his mind. 

M- Marriage: How does this character view marriage? What is their ideal wedding like?

For a long time, Soo-Won views marriage as just a political tool and doesn’t really anticipate marrying. However, after being with his s/o, he doesn’t mind the idea of a permanent union (even if it may be cut short by his illness). He knows that it can be important to others, and if his s/o greatly desires a marriage, who is he to refuse? He wouldn’t want a grand royal wedding, however. He’d actually like to get married in secret, under the moonlight in the palace gardens with only a priest to know. They’ll exchange vows, rings, and a kiss under the stars. He doesn’t need the world to know how deep in love they are, just the two of them. 

N- Nicknames: What does this character like to call their s/o?

Soo-Won isn’t really a pet name person, but when he gets into an especially affectionate mood, he may call his s/o things like “darling” or “my love.” He tries not to call his s/o pet names in front of others to keep a poised appearance, but when they are alone, these tender terms come out more. 

O- On Cloud Nine: What is this character like when they’re in love? Is it obvious to others, or are they good at hiding it?

Soo-Won has to be good at hiding that he’s in love, because royal life can be dangerous and he would hate for someone to use that against him or his s/o. However, there are very subtle signs, like lingering gazes or soft smiles in his s/o’s direction and a hint of protectiveness. It takes a trained eye to know that Soo-Won has feelings for someone. 

P- PDA: Does this character like PDA? If so, what kinds of things do they do in public to show off their s/o?

Again, Soo-Won must be careful what he does with his s/o in public. He doesn’t really do PDA; he prefers to do such things behind closed doors. However, that isn’t to say that he doesn’t like to show off his s/o. Anytime he can, he loves to show them off in meetings or other public relations events, hanging on their arm and showering them in praise and affection. These are rare moments he can be more open about his s/o, and he treasures those moments. 

Q- Quirks: What random traits or quirks does this character have that positively affect the relationship?

Soo-Won is very smart, so he can read his s/o like a book. He knows when they’re upset or hiding something, which allows him to work things out with his s/o quickly when something is wrong. This also gives him a trained eye to know when his s/o wants something, so it is very often that he turns up with a surprise gift... 

R- Romance: Is this character a hopeless romantic, or a bit on the low-key side? Are they cliché when it comes to romantic gestures, or can they get a little bit creative?

Soo-Won is a bit on the lowkey side, but only out of necessity. He tries to perform many little gestures for his s/o since he can’t risk grand displays of affection. Still, he does what he can to keep his s/o appreciated and happy. 

S- Secrets: Are there any secrets they hide from their s/o? If so, how do they deal with it when those secrets finally come out?

Naturally, the Crimson Illness is kept a secret from Soo-Won’s s/o for as long as possible. Of course, it is inevitable that they learn of it, witnessing one of his fits. There’s no use hiding it, so Soo-Won tells them, though this now makes them as much a prisoner as everyone else who knows. Of course, if his s/o truly loves him, they are willing to work just as hard to find a cure for his condition and protect his secret. 

T- Thrill: Does this character prefer routine in their relationship, or do they like to shake things up every once in a while?

Soo-Won uses his relationship to break the hum-drum of royal life, so there is a lot of spontaneity. He likes to surprise his s/o with gifts or outings; their delighted smile is like fuel for him, energizing him for the tasks at hand when he inevitably has to return to them. 

U- Understanding: Is this character level-headed and empathetic toward their partner, or do they sometimes have trouble figuring them out, which leads to some butting heads?

Again, Soo-Won is very observant, so many times he is very able to read his partner and thus empathize with them. Every once in awhile, exhaustion will cloud his judgment and he will have some difficulty doing so. Sometimes his s/o will have to be patient with him, but it won’t lead to butting heads because Soo-Won will be quite honest with his s/o about the fact that he’s weary. 

V- Value: How does this character value their relationship with their s/o? How does it hold in comparison to their goals, ambitions, etc.?

Soo-Won’s s/o is very important to him, but they do come second to his desires to bring Kouka Kingdom to glory. He has devoted his life to that endeavor, and though he does love his s/o very much, he is willing to make sacrifices to ensure he does what he set out to do. Everything else, though, does come second to his s/o. 

W- Wild Card: Any random fluff headcanon that does not fall within the other categories!

Soo-Won loves massages. It relieves the chronic pain associated with tensing up during his episodes. He loves when his s/o relieves the tension in his muscles while they’re cuddling, gently working out the kinks and knots while whispering sweet nothings to him. 

X- XOXO: How does this character show affection?

Soo-Won is mostly a “quality time” and “gifts” person when showing his affection. He values quality time the most since he is so busy, so any spare moment he has is spent with his s/o. When he can’t spend time with them, he is sure to leave little gifts to let his s/o know that he is still thinking of them even though he is busier than normal. 

Y- Yearning: How does this character deal with time apart with their s/o?

Soo-Won deals quite well with being apart with his s/o. Again, his royal duties take precedence. However, extended time away from them will aggravate him, and he will get testy with his council. Eventually his mood will sour so much that they’ll force him to go spend time with his s/o because they’re tired of dealing with him! His mood instantly takes a one-eighty as soon as he sees his s/o, and he will melt in their arms and eat up all the cuddles he’s been deprived of. 

Z- Zeal: Is this character willing to great lengths for their relationship? If so, how far, and how long does it take to get to this point?

Though his s/o must come second to his kingly duties, that’s not to say that his s/o isn’t important to him. He does not take threat to his beloved lightly, at all. He is very much willing to start a war over a slight to his s/o. It does take him a little while to reach this point, but once he’s in love, he is going to protect his partner no matter what. 

#yona of the dawn #akayona #akatsuni no yona #soo-won #akayona headcanons #soowon #fluff alphabet

[chibitantei]

@bluescarfvivi​ sends:

There wouldn't be any sort of cursed food creation for this year's celebrations. Why give Naoto the worst stomachache of her life on a special day, although the investigator knew her cousin rather keep the festivities to a minimum. Nevertheless, she made a point to make something a little more meaningful for Naoto's birthday. No cursed objects, haunted, or harboring a potential ghostly spirit in wait for a sneaky surprise.

Maybe next year. Just for shits and giggles. Vivi made a small mental note of that.

“You can relax. No baked bean slice of cake on me.” In her hands are two presents wrapped in various shades of blue. Of course. It's their trademark color after all. “I know you're not one to recognize what today means, but I still wanted to get you something...special.” Inside the larger, rectangular gift would be a brand new beginner's ghost hunting tool kit. An EMF meter, EVP wrist recorder, high purpose flashlight, and an infrared thermometer: state of the art and up-to-date with industry's considered standards. They met through investigative means, so Vivi felt Naoto could find some interest in the career her own cousin perused.

The second gift appeared much smaller. A tiny jewelry, and inside held a pin. An official Mystery Skulls IT pin. The skull matched the logo on their van and the stamps on their client's documents, with a tinge of dark blue coloring the metallic sheen. “I’ve wanted to get you your own pin for a while, so I was holding on to this one until today. Consider yourself an honorary member of my own team.” She smiled fondly.

“Happy Birthday, cousin.”

Noot Birth | Closed

The door to the estate is open just a crack as Naoto warily eyes what she can see of the gifts. The damned beans made her want to her hurl her breakfast of coffee and half a bagel straight into the nearest toilet, which was approximately a few meters away. Slight tangent aside, once Vivi reassures her on the lack of beans, the door opens and Naoto guides her cousin to the kitchen counter to deposit her packages. A hard surface makes it easier for inspection, but in return, the likelihood of damaging fragile gifts increases.

She works on the larger gift, cutting the tape open with a kitchen knife and slowly removing the paper. In an emotion that Naoto can’t describe, what the present contains hits her with the force a car going well above the speed limit.

Tools for ghost hunters.

Her mind would often spin in circles when thinking about the supernatural, from denial to acceptance. Only recently did it go from denial, acceptance and then to acceptance but with a desire to stay as far away as she can. Such a thought is ill-conceived, given her own powers and experiences with the supernatural. Perhaps extra additions are buried deep within herself, but who knows.

Sadly or not, Naoto recognizes the instruments and knows what purpose they serve. It’s an open invitation to join Vivi on her own exploits. Then again, she has proven herself useful with her versatile set of assets. Perfectly logical to be asked to join.

As well as them being family. Cousins.

She moves on to the second, much smaller in comparison to the first.

It takes her a second to process what is in front of her, for it managed to startle her far more than the ghost hunter tools did. The design is recognizable, having seen it numerous times, but a pin? As far as she knows, Vivi’s team doesn’t have a merchandise store. Pins are something she doesn’t wear.

Why would she—

Just as she looks up, there’s a fond smile on her cousin’s face. Immediately, Naoto stares at the pin, then to the counter.

“I...”

What does she say here? She isn’t a stranger to receiving gifts, and those gifts are often sentimental in nature, so why is there a disconnect? Why can’t she comprehend something so simple? Hadn’t she done fine a month ago when delivering her present for Vivi’s birthday? Hadn’t she received a gift from her last year too?

“Thank you. It’s... thoughtful,” go ahead and sound ungrateful, “and an invitation to engage in something dangerous.” As if she hasn’t done dangerous things by herself, supernatural or not. “I... didn’t think I would receive anything besides what my grandfather and Yakushiji give, as well as small things from my friends, so this is... unprecedented.”

She swallows.

“It’s hard to believe that a chance meeting of seeing you lock pick your way into a hotel would lead us to... this.” There was a thought. Her eyes seem to be stinging a little. How odd.

“I’m glad you are my... cousin.”

That’s her cue to turn away.

“Please, help yourself to some drinks. Grampa and Yakushiji will return with cake and you can eat it before you go.” Or she can stay the night if she so wishes.

#Ask Status: Answered #bluescarfvivi #v: Seeker of Truth #Event: Naoto's Birthday #long post #(the cousins are making me act up)