#(BC he has the hand warmer and I used my hands all day at work and then worked with them in the workshop they’ll go ouch)

[shatterthefragments]

Im glad I went it was lovely :)

I did dip as soon as I finished so I could get home before like. Past 10pm. But. Lovely conversations. Lovely people. Lovely artists. Lovely clay.

OMG ONE OF THE PEOPLE CLOCKING ME AS MID TWENTIES BASED ON THE FACT THAT I STILL LOVE GOING TO VAN 😭🤣 this is still hilarious to me

[urhoneycombwitch]

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill. 

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days. 

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place. 

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you. 

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite. 

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge. 

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs). 

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue. 

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties. 

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.) 

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course. 

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you. 

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school. 

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before… 

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend. 

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event. 

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room. 

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh. 

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space. 

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts. 

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise. 

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals. 

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily. 

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form. 

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are. 

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda. 

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes. 

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak. 

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet. 

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm. 

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel. 

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.  

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours. 

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here. 

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?” 

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds. 

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude. 

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him. 

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there. 

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours. 

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone. 

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you. 

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you. 

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside. 

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks. 

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year. 

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in. 

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

[papurgaatika]

Pink In The Night

Pairing: Din Djarin x f! reader

Minors DNI with my work please!!!

A/N: this came to me in a moment of insanity. I love him so much. This was supposed to be less than 1k words, but I truly got carried away. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @carlynkurin! This is semi dedicated to @joeloverture bc vetty did not let me add it to the WIP folder and somehow I finished it in a day so that's neat Once again sticking with the song lyric as the title brand, it is Pink in the Night by Mitski this time LOL. As always, peace and love on the planet Earth from me, and I hope y'all enjoy !!!!

Tags: smut, idiots in love, devotion, oral (f receiving), reader’s skin is called tan and reader has a bush, no other description, semi subby Din, tit worship, lots of semi-religious metaphors, pet names (sweet/pretty girl, my moon, my sun) Din worships reader, reader worships him, soft, established relationship, tooth rottingly sweet, no use of y/n, 18+ Word count: 3.7k

Summary: A night’s serenity with Din has you enveloped in each other.

There was a moment of peace you found yourself in tonight, the sun was low in the sky, not quite setting but it had started to move west. Your toes were dipping in the small creek just beside your home, ripples ebbing and flowing with every movement you made. You could hear the coos of Grogu behind you as Din kept a watchful eye on your son. You laugh softly as Grogu falls to the ground with an unrefined oomph probably exhausted from being allowed to run around all day. You glance at Din with a smile, and he feels like he suddenly can't breathe. 

God. that smile of yours. It always gets him and he can't explain why. You just felt like home to him. He moves to sit beside you, armored shoulder bumping your bare one, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day  “Hey you,” you grin, toes wiggling in the water as you move to lean against him a little more. His arm moves to wrap around you, the leather of his glove somehow rough but soft against your skin simultaneously. 

“Hey pretty girl,” he hums, voice still tender even through the modulator. His fingers run aimlessly over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin. “You’re gonna catch a burn” he mumbles, moving his hand to brush a stray lock of your hair off your neck to get a better view. 

You snort at him slightly, letting your eyes close in contentment as he touches your skin. “I don't burn, just get tanned” You can feel his unamused gaze, even through the helmet. You knew the look he was giving you. It was the same one he gave you when you refused to sit down when your feet hurt, or when he asked if you had eaten anything when your head ached. 

“Your skin is warm to the touch, meshla” he states, leaving absolutely no room for argument. His hand trails over the curve of your neck and traces the outline of your jaw softly, relishing in how soft you are compared to him. He wanted to memorize every curve of your body, never to be allowed a moment to forget them. “Let’s just go inside, the womp rat is already asleep on the blanket anyway” You both glance back at Grogu who sure enough, had tuckered himself out all day and was now curled up on the small blanket you had set up for him. You make a small noise of affirmation and let Din scoop him up, before you bring your feet out of the water, letting them dry slightly on the ground before walking in after Din, and shutting the door softly. You watch with a small smile as Din tucks Grogu into his bed, relishing in the domesticity of it all; being in your home, watching your husband tuck your son into bed after you spent the day in the sun with the both of them. It was something you would never get over. 

Din steps out of Grogu’s room, helmet discarded by the main door, and finds his eyes locked on your figure. There was so much love in those eyes, so much pain, and hardness, but when you saw them all you could feel was warmth. The chocolate brown of his eyes, deeper than any ocean, warmer than any fire, felt like home to you. He raises his now gloveless hand to skim the skin of your shoulder, brows wrinkling together a little as he feels the skin still warm under him. “Meshla you’re still warm” his touch was so soft, almost like he thought you would break if he was any firmer. 

You give him a light-hearted roll of your eyes as he ushers you into your bedroom, backing you onto your bed with an ungraceful thump “Din it’s not a burn-” you laugh softly at his insistence, but he wasn't having it. He makes quick work of removing his armor, the sound of beskar soothing to your ears before he turns back to face you. 

“Take off your shirt” The bluntness of his words catches you off guard for a moment, your mouth opening and closing with a lack of words. 

You can see him biting back a smirk at your falter “Baby what-?” you gape at him. It wasn't that you didn't want to, you were just absolutely baffled. 

“Take. Off. your. shirt,” he repeats himself, emphasizing every word. “I'm gonna put lotion on you, you’re too warm.” and there’s that smirk. You roll your eyes at him tossing off the soft tank top and throwing it in his direction before laying down on the bed on your stomach. 

Din could die a happy man right now. He thinks that if the maker struck him down, right this instant, he would be okay with it. The sight of you, relaxed on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, waiting for him to use his hands on you was almost too much for him to bear. He moves to sit behind you on the bed, essentially straddling the backs of your legs, and grazes your back softly. Mapping out the freckles and dips of your skin, tracing the soft tan lines, just in awe of you every single time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale before taking a bit of the lotion into his hands and massaging it softly into your back, feeling your body instantly relax at the coolness of it “Is that okay pretty girl?” he whispers, hands pressing gently down your back and shoulders, feeling the curve of your spine. You nod your head, face resting on a pillow, and peek up at him with a small content smile. 

“Yeah.. yeah it's nice Din..” you murmur at him, voice low and solace. You felt him continue the motions on your back, hands almost reverent against your skin, almost as if you were the beads of a rosary he was slipping between his fingers. His hands slip to your lower back and brush the waist of your shorts, a silent plea hanging in his touch. You lift your hips slightly, letting him tug them off with a touch much too delicate for someone who has been hunting bounties for years. 

You coo slightly when his hands rub lotion onto your ass, his touch featherlight and tentative. “Is this okay?” you hear him ask, your response coming out in the form of a silent nod, eyes closed enjoying the feeling of his hands on you. “You’re always so soft. So perfect..” his hands continue their tender movements, hands slipping between your legs and grazing your thighs but never touching your heated core, he was going to drag this out for you. “Stars…” he admires “you’re so... perfect... so beautiful…” his words are less for your ears and more just his internal dialogue being voiced. His hands continue down your legs to your ankles and then back up, tapping your hip to get you to roll over. 

You turn over, body laid bare for him. The evening sun peering through the window had your skin bathed in warmth. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile at the sight of him. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, the feeling of his beard coarse against the smooth skin of your palm. He immediately leans into your caress, seeking more of you, wanting to envelop himself in you completely, to give himself up to you as much as he can. His eyes gaze over the sight of you laid out under him, the way your breasts rise and fall with each breath, the tan lines on your skin, the curves and dips of your body. He was going to memorize you, to be yours completely. “Can I touch you?” 

“Always Din..” your murmur leaves no room for argument and sends his head reeling. He shifts so his clothed hips are pressed against you, and his face is nestled under the curve of your breast. You sigh as his warm breaths hit your skin, just watching him admire you. His hands trace the curve of your waist and his lips dip to the valley between your breasts. He licks a small stripe between them, eyes drifting shut, relishing the way you taste. Your eyes are slightly hazy, overwhelmed with the sight of him practically revering you. His lips move to press kisses over one of your breasts, lips tentative and gentle before he takes your nipple between your lips, a pleased sigh leaving your throat. 

He feels a jolt of electricity rack through him at the sounds you make, the sounds he makes you make. His lips leave your nipple, moving to the other one. He hums around it, your back arching at the sensation. His tongue swirls and flicks at the sensitive peak in his mouth, his hand softly tweaking and kneading the other breast. “Maker above” he groans, pulling off of you with a pop, “I love these so much. Stars you’re perfect” his hands go to massage both of them, thumbs sliding over your nipples making your breathing tremble slightly 

“Feels so good Din..” his hands haven’t stopped their ministrations, moving softly and gently as ever, taking his time to make you feel good. He grins at your words, the praise going straight to his cock, but that could wait. He just wanted to make you feel good today. 

“Yeah cyare? You like my hands on you?” his hands don’t still as he asks, his face pressed against the soft of your stomach, peering up at you. 

Your back arches again as he presses a few kisses under your breasts and across your ribs. “Yeah baby” you sigh “like when you’re soft with me..” 

He thinks his brain short-circuits for a minute. Din was not known to be soft. He was the hardened bounty hunter turned marshal of Nevarro, a stone-cold killer, nearly undefeated. But not to you. He was the man who rubbed the bottom of your feet when you had been standing too long, a caring father, the love of your life. He was softest when he was with you when he was in the presence of someone who made him forget what his legacy was and allowed him to be himself. 

“I’ll be soft..” his words are barely audible with his face pressed into your chest “I am yours..” he keeps his lips pressed against the skin of your ribs, his hands still cupping your breasts. “Always yours,” he mumbles as his lips find your nipple again, taking the pebbled nub into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around it. Your hands fist in his hair, not pulling, just grounding him and yourself in each others’ touch “My perfect girl... my everything..” his words were slightly slurred, getting drunk on you. “Stars.. I want to taste you” he looks up at you, his pupils dark and blown, lost in his ecstasy. His hips grind down slowly against yours, his need taking over involuntarily. 

Your lazy sighs and moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of the bugs and townspeople outside of your window. His lips trace their way down your chest, following the path down your abdomen, licking small stripes against your skin as he goes. “So good to me din..” you sigh, lips parting and eyes fluttering as you glance down at him. 

He lets out an uneven breath, his brown eyes drinking your body in. He sits up slightly between your legs and swallows roughly, as he takes in the sight of you. The sun was practically making you glow, casting a halo of gold around you, your lips were parted and red from biting at them. “You’re so beautiful my sun… so so beautiful” You feel your skin warm at his words, despite how often he praises you it never ceases to make you melt like putty in his hands. He can see the reaction on your face, the slight flush of your skin stirring something possessive and needy inside of him. “Kriff-” he makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, “kriff i need you, i need you my sun,” 

You huff out a warm laugh and he thinks that it was warmer than the heat of any sun he had been in the presence of. You were his sun, you were his entire galaxy. “Go on in, I want you too my moon,” your words are soft, gentler than he thinks he deserves, but you never use anything other than that soft voice with him. 

“You’re sure..?” his hands trace over your thigh. Despite being fully bare and needy in front of him, Din is always sure to ask, never wanting to overstep, never wanting to hurt you even if by accident. His eyes are searching yours, looking for any sign of second guesses or hesitance, but are only met with utter devotion and need 

“I’m always sure” you whisper gently, looking up at him like he had personally set every star in the galaxy out there for you, like your entire heart and soul were his, and his were yours. He didn’t need to be told a second time, his lips finding your skin once again, tracing the same path down your body, licking over the ticklish skin of your belly button, nipping gently at the skin of your hip, until he’s hovering right above the coarse curls nestled on your body. You twitch slightly at the brush of his stubble against your stomach, your hand stroking through his hair absentmindedly. 

He lets out a small rumble of affection as he watches your chest rise and fall from his place between your legs. His mouth moves down to the curls just above your aching cunt and presses soft kisses into them, breathing in the smell of you. “You smell so kriffing good stars-” he practically whimpers at you, your breath catching as your hips jerk up inadvertently, yearning to catch some of his touch.

“Maker I love these” his lips continue to press kisses at the hairs on your mound, your skin heating at the praise, before his lips move slowly down, teasingly slow, before they press down over your slick folds. His nose nudges you open softly, and you cry out hands tightening in his hair, when it bumps your clit. “Smell so fucking good, bet you taste so perfect for me too ” he whines as his tongue lays a flat stripe against you. 

There was that filthy mouth of his. Somehow managing to be both incredibly sweet and debauched at the same time in ways that made your head spin. His tongue laps at you, gentle kitten licks at first, before it starts to work in lazy circles against your clit. He lets out a hum of laughter when your hand tightens in the sheets, a moan breaking out of your chest when his lips kiss and suck on that bundle of nerves. “Taste better every single time, Sun” he murmurs, collecting your slick on his tongue. 

“Stars-” your voice breaks in a whimpered moan, the feeling of his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses over your cunt making you writhe in his touch. His tongue darts out to lap at the slick that practically drools out of you eagerly like he was getting ambrosia straight from the gods. You tasted heavenly, and he simply could never get enough. He moans into your skin every so often, the vibrations sending shocks that go down your spine.

 The hand that wasn’t holding your hip was entangled with yours, his fingers rubbing your knuckles in a tender caress. The soothing motion is almost second nature to the two of you, one you use during any moment you can spare. “Maker” you cry out when his beard scratches the soft skin of your pussy, “all for you din, I’m all yours.” your words send a rush of possession through his body, his tongue lapping at you faster, almost like he was claiming you as his. 

His tongue goes back to dart at your dripping hole, pushing past your entrance and moaning at the taste of you. He flicks his tongue in you a few times, your back arching in response before he pulls off of you. He looks ragged with his mouth covered in your wetness and his hair clinging to his forehead, while sweat drips down his skin. “Maker above you taste so fucking sweet.. my sweet girl.” 

He moves back down, lips fervently attached to your clit, pulling moan after moan from your mouth. Your legs tremble as his mouth focuses on its new target, and you feel the coil inside you tightening, bringing you to that peak. 

“Oh, shit-” you cry out as your legs tighten around his head, a hoarse moan leaving his mouth at the feeling. “Din, baby fuck, I'm gonna cum-” Your breathing is unsteady, coming out in sharp pants and gasps. 

“That's it sweet girl” he hums into your skin, tongue never stopping its rapid movements “cum on my tongue baby, let me taste you, sweet girl” Your cunt pulses as you cum for him, his tongue working you through the high of your orgasm. Your sounds are like a choir in his ears, and if lack of air between your legs killed him he wouldn't mind, it would be an honor to die like that. The combination of those, coupled with how damn sweet you taste, had him rolling his hips into the mattress searching for any sort of relief for his aching cock. 

Your eyes are hazy as you come down from your climax, your legs going limp on the bed. You can see Din rutting into the mattress, a new burst of arousal flooding you. “Din.. baby… I want you..” you practically purr at him, voice dripping with almost as much need as your cunt. Your words raise a guttural whine to leave his chest, his breathing labored. 

“Please,” the tone of his voice is almost one of supplication, begging you for salvation “Please, I need to be inside you, please-” your hands are already making quick work of undoing his belt, your need for him primal.

His belt comes off with a click and you can feel yourself drooling at the sound, almost Pavlovian how quickly you react “Din, please please I want you, baby put it in I can't wait,” your own pleas match his in desperation. Both of you yearned for each other in ways that were incomprehensible, in ways that could keep you whole for the rest of time simply if you could bask in the shadow of the other. 

Din pulls his pants off, throwing them somewhere across the room, and you finally see him. Thick and pretty as ever, dripping pre-cum, practically throbbing and aching to be inside your warmth. You shuffle your hips down so he can line up with you, shaky exhales leaving both your lips when he drags the heavy weight of him over your sensitive heat. He gathers some of your wetness on his cock, coating it before he slips into you, curses flying out of both of your mouths. “Fuck Din,” you cry out as his tip pushes into you, the familiar stretch of him making you ache for more. He pushes into you further, making your toes curl and one of your hands grabs at your breast. 

“So good for me,” he groans out, pushing himself further, almost lost in how good you felt around him. Tight and wet, molding around him like you were made for each other. He pushes himself in all the way, buried inside you to the hilt, and it was like a puzzle piece. You were crafted just for him, and he was for you. There was nobody else for either of you. 

Din sinks down on the bed, his hips flush against yours, only propped up on an elbow to keep from crushing you under him. “My perfect girl..” he sighs, not thrusting but simply rocking against you. “My perfect fucking girl... I love you I love you I love you” he nestles his head on your shoulder, pressing kisses on your collarbone and neck. He snakes one hand around your waist, pulling you up to his body, chests pressed together, and you cling to each other. 

“Your girl..” you sigh, your hips moving gently, the friction of his coarse hair against your clit giving you enough stimulation to feel that familiar peak building slowly “Your girl.. Yours..” his lips move against your skin, his touch and presence engulfing you the way that you craved with him. 

His hips move a little faster, his need for you evident in the way his fingers grip you. “So kriffing beautiful like this.” he cries out, biting your collar gently “So perfect… so good under me like this..” you can feel his hips growing a tinge frantic, his orgasm building after who knows how long of staving it off to focus on you. You let one of your hands drift to your clit, not even needing to move your hand, just needing a slight bit of extra pressure while he moves inside of you. 

“I love you, Din. I love you so much, I love you,” you cry out as his movements turn to shallow shaky thrusts, his lips parted against your skin in silent prayers to you. “Cum with me, please I want to feel you, I want you in me, I want to be yours Din.” your fingers move gently, pushing you over the edge towards your climax. 

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him pushes him over with you. His cock twitched inside of you with groans and cries of pleasure leaving his mouth as his cum fills you. “Perfect fucking girl,” his words are blubbering sounds, mostly coming out between gasps and moans “Take me so well, made for me.” 

Din rolls you on top of him, letting you both catch your breaths while you cling to each other like it would be physically painful to be separated. His hand strokes up and down your back, skin warm to the touch but not for reasons he could think to criticize. Your eyes droop, the pleasure and feeling of domesticity seeping into your bones. “I love you, my moon.” you coo at him, sleep taking over your body. 

“I love you too, my sun..” he replies, his own body beginning to doze off, his hands still wrapped around your body.

[sant-riley]

[Ghost with OFC!Reader who has a toxic family] [p1 of ?]

A/N: straight up this is self indulgent/me projecting (like all my work is) bc it's comforting for me to imagine that I have someone to protect me from life bc wow this shit sucks. Not tagging anyone due to this potentially being triggering.

CW: toxic family dynamics, swearing, mental illness, simping, age gaps, definitely not professional, Ghost punches someone (let me know if there's anything else)

~

Now I don't even have to say that Simon is extremely sensitive when it comes to family, especially since he himself grew up in a toxic environment. He knows the signs because they're the signs he saw in his day to day life.

He knew something was up when you never want to go home when breaks come, any young Rookie is usually bouncing off the walls to go see their loved ones but you? You almost look depressed at the thought. Ghost may tell people he has a cold heart, but not when it comes to you. You wormed your way into his chest next to that said cold heart and now he can't help but worry. You're too young to have probably been in a place on your own, so no choice but to go back to the family home. He was in your shoes once, he too had joined the military to find a way out.

Ghost doesn't speak to people off duty, never has but things have changed. You, Soap, Gaz, Price? You all are the closest thing he will ever have to a family again, so against his better and usual judgment, he asks you if you'd like to stay with him at one of his safe houses.

"Runt, do you....for fucks sake, do you want to come back with me? Stay with me until our next mission."

"Oh! No, I'm fine Ghost, I'm alright to go home."

A smile on your lips but it doesn't reach your eyes. He feels his own turn down into a grimace.

"Teds, stop the shit for a second, yeah? I see that look on your face, you don't want to go back there."

He rests a skeleton glove covered hand on your shoulder, caressing the skin there with a thumb graze.

"I don't want to be a bother.'"

"You're never a bother sweetheart, c'mon then."

~

Staying with Ghost is, different to say the least. He takes you to his home in Manchester and goddamn the place is barely lived in, the only place that look used is his kitchen. He really lets you have free reign of the place, the only room not allowed is his bedroom. Not because he doesn't trust you rather it's just a personal thing.

Overtime the place filled with little traces of you, your hair ties liter the counters and tables, your laughter in the other room while you scroll on your phone. Hearing your footsteps run to area of the house so you can show him said video, the groceries you buy once you learn Ghost solely lives off of take out.

"Are you serious?"

"I work out to balance it."

"Ghost-"

It warms his chest to see you show so much concern over him, a man 6'4 who could easily snap your neck. He rustles your hair with a deep chuckle.

You try and not encroach on his space but he finds that he likes it. He likes seeing your shoes next to his at the doorway, he likes seeing you cook in his kitchen, he likes seeing you wake up groggy with crust in your eyes. He loves it all. Though he'd never admit it.

You make his house, now his home feel so much warmer and brighter. You insist on catching him up to the newest movies and shows, forcing him to sit down next to you to watch the newest Marvel movie while he pretends he hates it. He makes jokes in between that he could do better than that and that if he were there, he'd just put a bullet between the enemies eyes.

Seeing you fall asleep on his shoulder brings a peace to him, his arm around your shoulders as you nuzzle in closer. He doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve you. But he's gonna pretend he does, just for a little while longer.

~

Imagine his surprise when he meets your family for the first time. You had wanted to go home and get some things to bring back to his place so he came with you on a flight since he knows you don't care for air travel by yourself.

Ghost was used to his presence scaring people and warding people off. He knows how to keep people in line, its been his job for as long as he could care to remember. So he wasn't expecting them to treat you so horribly in front of him. Really, what'd they expect to happen. First mistake.

It's such a stark contrast you are in this place, from base, the field, to the woman in front of him. You curl into yourself, hands cracking in your hoodie pockets as you sit there and just take it, waiting for a break so you can speak. You're not looking at him or even making an attempt to talk back.

Ghost knows you're grown, he knows it's not his place but he feels his blood pressure get higher and higher as they scream and belittle you for things out of your control, your looks, your weight, telling to come back home, to leave the military, anything and everything under the sun. Second mistake. He can feel his knuckles turn a stark white under his gloves and it isn't until your sibling gets up in your face with a hand raised that he springs into action. Third mistake. Ghost is a big man, but he moves fast and unexpectedly.

Before he registered it, your sibling is on the floor clutching their stomach after being gut punched. He hears them heaving while trying to curse him out, looking up with him with hatred. Simon wants to take his heavy steel toed boot and kick the fuckers face. Hell, he wants to beat the ever living shit out of every single person in this fucking house. To think they can treat you like this? Over his dead body.

He hears your parents screaming about how dare he and that he's fucking insane but when he turns to look around at you, he sees you staring up at him with tear filled eyes and a whisper of thank you. In that moment he knows, he knows he'd do just about anything for you. He shoots a withering glare at your parents

"We're taking her shit and leaving." He barks out, his eyes burning a hole in their heads while they shakily nod and avoid looking at either of you.

Ghost grabs your hand and leads you towards your bedroom where he grabs anything he can bag and helps you stuff all your belongings into it, making sure you have everything until the room is completely cleared out.

Shuffling the bags on his arms, he holds your hand again and intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you out the house and towards the rental truck. Not taking one glance at the so called family watching you two.

"You're staying with me from now on, got it runt?"

The smile on your face is so bright when you say "Of course, L.T."

-

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

[ladylooch]

You said it yesterday and the thought has been in my head I need a blurb of timo wrapping Emma up with a heated towel that was in the towel Warmer bc they were just out of the shower bc she was so cold from the stadium series and then you also said he rubbed her down with belly oil and lotion bc she was pregnant that imagine is living rent free in my head😭😭 so sweet

Can be fluffy, smutty, or BOTH 😉😉

Warm water dashes down Emma’s body as Timo does the final scrub of her body, focusing on her back, being generous with sudsing her butt. White foam falls down from her cheeks, collecting underneath her feet and making the shower floor slippery. She clutches Timo’s big shoulders for balance. He plumps his lips across her collar bone until he gets to her throat. He nibbles over the sensitive skin then teases his facial hair over the slight red mark. She chuckles, opening her eyes to look at him. He captures her lips.

“We are warm now.” Emma murmurs.

“Good.” He says, then reaches around her to turn the water off. Timo steps out, grabbing the new, fluffy towel for her to step into that he placed in the towel warmer before they got in. He holds it out the length of his arm span. Emma steps into his arms, letting him get every drop of water off her body. He hands her the towel afterwards so she can dry her hair. In the meantime, he dries off too. 

“Do you want your robe?” Timo asks, seeing her give a little shiver.

“Yeah.” He holds it open so she can slide into the thick, plush fabric. “Thank you, babe.” 

Post-shower care is done by each individual. Timo sits on the counter, watching Emma do all of her creams, patiently waiting for her to go to bed with him. Emma keeps bringing a hand down to her bump, scratching around her belly button.

“I think I’m getting a stretch mark.” She frowns at Timo in the mirror. 

“No.” He pouts at her. “We are lubing you up all the time?” Emma giggles.

“I guess we need more lube.” She smooths out the last dot of moisturizer on her forehead. 

Together, they move into the bedroom. Timo grabs the Honest bump cream they have been using on Emma’s belly. He puts two finger in, grabbing a thick blob of it as Emma get settled on her back, propped up by a few pillows. They are quiet, both watching Timo’s fingers meticulously stroke over her expanding skin.

“I think I felt him move the other day.” Emma announces quietly. Timo’s blue eyes look up into her face. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, when you were in Nashville.” 

“What did it feel like?”

“Um, like I was digesting food but lower?” She laughs, making her belly shake beneath his hands. “I haven’t felt it since though, so maybe not.” She murmurs, watching his strokes continue. He grabs another scoop full of cream, this time focusing on her sides. His thick eyebrows are furrowed together in concentration. This is a job he takes very seriously, every night. “I can’t wait until we feel him all the time. Remind me I said that when I can’t sleep.” Timo chuckles, then looks over his work. He nods, happy with the amount of coverage she has.

“That feel good?”

“Amazing.” Emma confirms. 

“Do you need anything?” He calls over his shoulder as he goes to put the cream back in the bathroom. 

“Water, please.” She replies back. He returns with her light pink, Stanley cup packed with fresh water and ice. He leans down, a hand on her belly, and the other cupping the back of her neck over her drying hair. 

“I love you.” He murmurs, then kisses her. Emma’s chest expands with love at the same time she feels that little flutter again. She gasps.

“I felt it again.” She grins wildly at Timo, who can’t help but laugh at her expression. He squeezes her face over both her dimples, then rounds the bed. He picks up her new pregnancy pillow.

“You don’t need this right? Cause you have me tonight.”

“Ha! Nice try. Put it down.” Emma points a finger at him. Timo groans. 

“I already fucking hate this thing.” He mutters, tossing it to her side. 

“What happened to whatever the baby needs, the baby gets?”

“I said that when I was trying to get lucky.”

“Timo!” Emma laughs loudly, clapping her hands.

“Just being honest.” 

[indristian]

Weirdly specific König Headcanons part 5

By an austrian for an austrian character

After the Trump speech, where he claimed that our trees were explosive König wouldn't shut up about the warlike conditions he had to endure when playing in our forest cities.

In May 2019, after the Ibiza affair, there was a solid week, where he would almost exclusively listen to Ibiza-related partysongs.

He hates being carried, he's normally the one carrying people. And most of the time when he carries people it's the fireman's carry.

He celebrates Christmas on the 24. of december in the evening. This and the food blessing for easter are the only times a year he'll go to church without being forced by his family, mostly bc he gets food afterwards.

His father would often wake him to help with the farm. If he was hungover and refused he'd get told "Wer saufen kann, kann am nächsten Tag auch arbeiten" (very loosely translated "Those that have the energy to go out and drink, have the energy to go work on the next day"). He sometimes uses the phrase just to get on his teammates nerves.

Every time someone complains about their job within his earshot he'll say "Hättest halt was g'scheites g'lernt" (meaning "Should've trained for a better job then"). When pointed out that they have the same "shit" job he just sighs and says "Yeah, takes one to know one."

Prefers colder temperatures over warmer ones bc "It's easier to put on clothes to keep warm than take them off to keep cool, especially when you're down to your underwear already"

People, for some reason, just love to tell him all the gossip and he loves it. Too bad he has no idea who half of the people he has gossip on are/forgets about the names involved immediately

Inspired by my best friend: If you go on a hike with him, he'll be standing there at the top of the mountain with his hands on his hips, not a drop of sweat on his face and he'll say "Yeah, that was a tough hike" while you're on the ground next to him fighting for for your life

If he's bored he'll go on r/austria to see if there's any "drama" like the "I ripped my 1000€ jacket on somebody's fence, can I sue them?" or the "Someone vomited in the staircase in front of my flat, do I have to clean it?" posts and the posts that made fun of them

He knows how to use a scythe (for mowing grass things, maybe also slicing up people, but mostly just mowing grass). First time his team sees him with one they take a pic, add the text "bad soldiers get reaped by the big german grim reaper" and post it on the community fridge. Within a day the german is angrily scribbled out and austrian added instead.

And not really a headcanon more like something i overheard while one of my friends played warzone: when you play the game in german and König heals you he says "Put some spit on it" (if I remember correctly)

I'm surprised I came up with so many headcanons, tho I'm kinda running out of steam.

In other news I made a playlist of songs I think would get stuck in his head/he would listen to. The playlist is a weird genre mix, but I swear I can can think of a reason for each song to be in it. I may add some new songs over time.

And I'm so happy spotify doesn't record what I'm listening to rn bc I don't want Austropop to be in my top 5 genres for the next wrapped.

Part one, two, three, four and six

[ask-dawnanddusk]

I wanted to try my hand at redesigning Dawn and Dusk's non-pokemon forms. I designed them a long, LONG time ago. These are messy head shots and are subject to change. You can find my ramblings under the cut + their original (old) designs~

Ok, so originally Dawn and Dusk were never really meant to be more then one note characters for a one off story. They were made for a completely different (now discontinued) universe I made and I didn't put much thought into them.

Now I've decided to finally change that!

Here are some messy notes.

Dusk:

Dusk was originally the first drake in the story he took place in, not a dog like creature at all!

I had a lot of trouble adding warmer tones to his design originally (especially with his pokemon design) but i really love how they turned out this time. Adding warmer accents through smaller details really worked out.

he's a big chunky lad. he has no wings but can float, and has a much more complex design then Dawn

Dawn

Dawn was known as the first phoenix in the stories told about him. Moltres really fit, and while I contemplated Ho-Oh, I couldn't really find a box legend that would fit Dusk well + it's design was too complicated

his form is mostly gradients and is much more simple (maybe signifying that things look much more simple/bearable during the day lol)

i softened his pallet a lot and used more pastel colors

despite how simple he looks i really love him

gave him eye-shadow bc he deserves it and he loves to look fabulous~

Here are their original designs I made over two years ago in like one second ew. It's a great to show how much I've improved though!

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

More Moose-centric OJV headcanons bc I love that cat.

-so Stan, post college grad and working up the courage to actually put his degree to use (mans self doubt is beatin his ass), is volunteering at the local animal shelter, when someone brings a cardboard box to the front desk.

- they’re like “hey someone left this outside my building, I can’t really have a pet rn” and Stan looks in the box to see the TINIEST little brown cat looking up at him with big sad eyes and he just starts SOBBING.

- immediately decides that this kitten is coming home with him, tells the shelter owner he’s leaving early and BOOKS IT home, got the cat wrapped up in his jacket in the passenger seat, seat warmer on, and Stan’s talking to him still crying a little. The thing is, this boy’s been going through a really tough time and he’s been reading children’s books to comfort himself, so he has “Thidwick The Big Hearted Moose” by dr Seuss on the brain, so he’s like HOLY SHIT IM CALLING YOU MOOSE! And Moose is just vibin he’s a real good cat

- they get home and Stan realizes he didn’t tell Kyle (adhd boy moment) bc he was too excited so he’s FULLY expecting Ky to be mad at him for bringing a pet home spontaneously, but Kyle is JUST AS HAPPY AS HE IS!!! And later that night, when Kyle thinks Stan’s out of earshot, he’s whispering to Moose, thanking him for making Stan smile again askfhdjwl

- bringing Moose to the vet clinic where Wendy works to get his shots and a checkup gives Stan a push to actually apply there, and everyone there LOVES that cat, like Wendy’s facetiming Bebe (they’re married at this point btw) to show her and Stan has a job working with animals now, like Moose really pulled him out of a SadSack slump shout-out to Moose!

-Moose’s favorite spot in the WORLD is Kyle’s chest, like Ky cannot lay down anywhere without him curling up in the divot of his sternum, ESPECIALLY if he senses that something’s wrong. Like when Kyle’s sick or having a bad pain day, Moose is there purring like a lawn mower directly over his heart.

-that cat is spoiled as HELL like I’m talkin everyone who meets him falls immediately in love bc he’s so sweet and so little even years later, he’s also intuitive as fuck and a natural emotional support animal. Kenny builds him a sickass cat tree, if he wants some of whatever the boys are eating all he has to do is rub his little head on their hand and (as long as it won’t make him sick) he gets a bite lmao. He wants picked up? He gets picked up. And everyone knows Kyle Broflovski cannot say no to Big Sad Blue Eyes and Moose is no exception to that ajsgdkwjdk. When Craig and Tweek meet Moose, he LOVES Craig bc he’s quiet and calm and that connection helps crog get over his friendship barrier with Stan. Tweek is nervous around animals but eventually falls in love with Moose too.

- he’s a pretty chill cat, doesn’t yowl in the middle of the night or cause problems, doesn’t bite or scratch even playfully. Occasionally he’ll get suspicious when Stan comes home from work smelling like other animals, but he’s used to it. His zoomies are HILARIOUS but he’s a total crybaby when he gets stuck on top of a door or something and needs help getting down. Once he got himself on top of the kitchen cabinets while Stan wasn’t home, Kyle couldn’t reach him and his stubborn ass didn’t want to go across the hall to get Craig so he climbed onto the counter, fell and aggravated his bad knee, and Moose would NOT leave his side for days after. Moose still got himself stuck in the same place the next week.

-he loves to go on walks! He has a little red harness and WEARS LITTLE CAT SIZED SWEATERS IN THE WINTER!!! The three of them 100% do holiday cards In matching outfits oh my god.

- Moose likes to sit in the windowsill in the home office and *ekekeke* at birds it’s the funniest shit ever.

-he’s very good on car rides except when Kyle’s driving because that man gets horrible road rage and Moose is all oh ok dads mad that means something is Wrong everyone panic and he’s yelling and bouncing around the car and it’s funny but it’s really not bc ~danger~ and yeah if Kyle’s driving Moose is in the carrier lmao.

- is a MODEL patient at the vet (partly bc his dad is the vet in question and he trusts Stan with his whole tiny heart)

-oh my god ok so Stan’s AA chapter has a lot of people who bring their pets to meetings and whenever he brings Moose in everyone is SHOWERING him with attention it’s so cute all the old timers are all “that’s a good cat right there he takes a pet no problem” and he’s wandering the meeting hall saying hi to everyone social king!

- Moose has never met a person he hates. Except Randy. Moose hates Randy.

[valentine-cafe]

You two have been pumping out content left and right and it's so good but I have a request if you will, please!!

Zhao Xiyang [am still getting used to his name >< ] and a reader who he fell for and seems innocent but they actually work in another assassin's guild? He finds that out later and is conflicted over it bc maybe the guilds are on really bad terms?

GN reader please and thank you 🌸🌸

. ˚◞♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓���� 𝒃𝒐𝒔𝒔 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 9819 xiyang / gn!reader ꒱ you knew who he was the second he entered the coffee shop - and yet you still let yourself fall head over heels. . . as did he. how unfortunate.

𖹭. content warnings◞  angst . xiyang and reader get into a bloody fight . 1.2k

𖹭. receipts◞  first writing for this man and it's already intense cdhfh anyway, enjoy!

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. he’d met you at the cafe that he sometimes frequents. you were just his type. a little timid, yet able to hold your own against the rougher customers. a little oblivious, especially to his blatant flirting. he always loved the way that your face heated up and you’d try to answer in turn

𖹭. you became a part of his week - and soon his day. he found himself paying a visit to your little cafe early hours of the morning, sometimes late into the night.

𖹭. you knew who he was. most people did. you knew for different reasons — but you kept that to yourself. you were here as just a cover-up day job. nothing more.

𖹭. besides, what chance did you have against the leader of the garnet frost?

“seem tired, doll.”

your hands never halt in their brewing of the early morning coffee. oh, that voice.

all you do is cast a glance over your shoulder and cast a smile to the familiar head of white hair. the tall man leans against the order counter. having plucked the ebony bamboo hat from atop his head — with only the half mask matching in colour left to conceal his lower face.

“had a bit of a rough night,”

slitting throats.

“got a test coming up.”

“mm. you should take it easy. hate seeing my sunshine all dim.”

a curl to your lips. a flutter to your heart, warm like the coffee that you already expertly get to work at. just the way he likes it. so that not a second is wasted and you are able to face him. prop yourself on the opposite end of he counter and slide the mug closer.

those maroon hues flicker down to you. sharp as ever — you’ve seen them crinkle at the corners before. seen that smile on his typically aloof features.

“can’t have that now can we? who’ll get your coffee right?”

xīyáng’s dry chuckle rumbles into glass. engulfing the steam of his coffee into his cold face. and as if to emphasise your point, he hums at the bitter taste on his tongue.

“exactly. whatever would I do?”

placing the cup down with a small thud against wood, the now slightly warmer hand of his inches closer. fingers with nails littered in tiny amethysts graze against yours.

tenderness might not be in his stature. but it’s certainly in his eyes when he gazes upon you.

“I’m serious though.” his voice lowers, almost scolding. his touch reaching for your cheekbone so that his thumb, calloused from years of wielding numerous weapons, swipes below your eye.

“you’ll work yourself to an early grave.”

“well, then you’ll come pick me up. won’t you mister reaper?”

your batting lashes have him rolling his eyes. playfully.

oh were you sweet. the sweetest he’s met in awhile.

𖹭. sweet. he wanted to scoff and spew out all his former thoughts of you when he had found out. at fist he was in denial. perhaps there was some misunderstanding? but no. that was clearly you he had seen on his latest mission. his latest tackle with a nuisance of an assassin guild.

𖹭. he couldn’t get over it. the fact that his blade met yours. that your eyes sliced to his in the darkness of the night. the way that his heart stuttered and the air left him completely. how he has been bested. all because he couldn’t bring himself to lay a finger on you.

𖹭. was that your deal? saw him stepping into that little cafe you work for, the leader of a rivalling syndicate — and you simply took your chance? got him wrapped around your little fingers. weakened him. all so that you could shatter the icy heart he had placed into your hands so willingly

𖹭. back on your end, you were more than conflicted. after that mission, you tried to convince yourself that he hadn’t noticed you. didn’t know it was you. but oh, the logical part of you knew. the recollection in his eyes. the way that he held back.

𖹭. your denial would be shot down when you noticed that the reaper hadn’t arrived at the cafe for the next for days. morning nor night. as though he has completely forgotten about — or wanted to.

𖹭. his number felt like a scar to your phone. numerous times you’d find your thumb hovering; wanting to call him. find a way to explain yourself. explain that none of this was any of your intention and simply pure coincidence. but you never had the courage — and it was the only way that you could even contact him. let alone find him. . . assuming that he hadn’t already blocked your number.

𖹭. alas, you should be careful what you wish for. because eventually, you’d run into the man that had been on your mind ever since that fateful night. . . and just your luck. on another mission. of all things.

there was no tenderness. in his eyes nor movements.

not that you expected anything less.

your back hits the cold marble. coldness enveloping your body. from both below and above as the frost himself pins you down. the chill of his blade against your pulse. the same brisk circling your wrists which he firmly pinned with one, large hand.

maroon hues once filled with a softness you had grown to love now reverted to their default sharpness. much like the dagger threatening your throat.

chests heave.

yours.

his.

your soul feels as though it is peered into. that gaze of his is never faltering. much like his grip that held your arms against the floor with ease.

you remember when they so delicately touched you.

“long time no see, doll.”

his voice, you recall its mildness.

now only dry. low. not a hint of the familiar warmth that fluttered your tummy. warm like the coffee you oh so missed serving him. just the way he liked it.

what you would give to be back in that cafe. over the counter. dreaming of his lips.

not faced with his blade.

“x-. . . xīyá -”

the pressure on your throat tightens. you gulp, feeling the way your struggle to swallow with the metal flushed against your skin. mercilessly. a threat. a promise.

“don’t.”

it’s something you haven’t heard before. gruff, yes. . . but almost shaky.

all while his white brows narrowed and he draws in a deep breath. his fingers coil around your wrists. nails leaving small crescents into your skin.

not that he cared.

or maybe he did? after all, he wasn’t slitting your throat just yet.

“pl-. . . please,”

“please?”

a strained chuckle rumbles from his throat. head shaking so that the curtain of his long white hair flutters around you. before returning. concealing you from the rest of the world. so that you were only for his eyes.

just you, and him.

“I don’t want your begs. nor your voice. can’t have you dragging me in again with those pretty little words huh?”

he leans closer. eyes narrow. hand stiffens.

“can’t have you worming your way back in.”

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. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[firstaidspray]

Birthday Countdown Revchase Snippets - Day 1

To celebrate Valentine's month as well as my birthday month, I'm going to post a snippet of Revchase every day until my birthday, using these prompts- there are 25 so it leads right up to my birthday!! I'm a bit behind bc it's been a few days into a month but here is the first one:

1- Write about your ship cuddling into bed together after a long and tiring day.

Pairing: Robert Chase/Reverie (oc)

Media: House MD

Rating: T

Word Count: 806

CW: Alcohol, brief drug mention, brief mention of sex

When the sounds of the doorknob turning interrupt the Temple of the Dog song playing over the stereo, Reverie sets down her beer and watches the door, waiting on it to open. And when it does, she smiles, stepping off the barstool she sits in and heads for the man in her doorway.

Chase gives a tired smile to Reverie and offers her a hug, but she steps back.

“Uh-uh. Why are you still in your scrubs, luv?” She asks, holding her hand out so he stays an arm's length away from her. “Why didn't you change out of those before leaving?”

He sighs. “I'm exhausted, Rev. After you left, I worked on a liver transplant. That's why I'm so late. I didn't feel like changing before coming home.”

Reverie scoffs and points a finger at him, waving it up and down. “Off. Take ‘em off. Not having filthy scrubs in my house.”

With a smirk, Chase does as Reverie has asked and begins to strip from his work clothes. “You're that eager to get me naked, huh?”

She crosses her arms. “Not relevant. What is relevant is the germs on your clothes. Off.”

As he continues to take them off, he remarks, “Why are you being so demanding? Do you think it's your turn to be in control tonight or something?”

“No!” Reverie laughs, rolling her eyes. “It's all about sex with you, eh?”

Chase is now down to his underwear, his scrubs in a pile next to his work sneakers. “Not tonight, actually. Like I said, exhausted.”

Reverie smiles and tilts her head. “Really? Robert Chase, too tired for sex? What kind of alternate world did I just get sent to?”

“Shut up,” he answers playfully. “I'm gonna go shower, then I'm gonna crash, and I expect you to be in the bed when I do.”

Turning on her heel and returning to the kitchen island, Reverie takes a sip of her beer. “Look who's being demanding now. ‘Course I'll be there. Go clean up, I'll be waiting.”

Chase heads into the bathroom and soon, the shower can be heard running through the walls. Reverie finishes up her beer and tosses it, then flicks off the lights to the kitchen and living room and goes into the bedroom. She crawls under the blanket and sighs, now anxiously anticipating Chase to come join her.

Soon enough, the water shuts off and Reverie hears Chase’s footsteps down the hall, and then in her bedroom. She smiles when he climbs into bed next to her, the mattress sinking a bit from his weight compared to hers, and becoming warmer as his body heat spreads across the sheets.

“Thank God you're all clean. Now I can do this,” Reverie says playfully as she jumps to wrap her arms around Chase's torso and buries her face in his chest. “Mmm, you smell good.”

Chase scoffs and places a hand on the back of Reverie's head, running his fingers through her hair. His other arm wraps around her back and holds her tight against himself. Being together like this– skin on skin, sharing warmth, pulses beating against each other through their ribcages– it makes them feel like one person, so connected.

“That stupid transplant took the life outta me,” Chase says, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Had some close calls.”

Reverie nuzzles closer to him. “Mhm…live donor?”

“Yup,” he replies, stroking her hair.

“I see why you're so tired then,” she responds. “I'm tired ‘cause, well, you know.”

“The usual?” He asks softly. He knows– the chronic pain that plagues her daily. He knows that he doesn't have to specify.

She nods against him. “Yep.”

Chase kisses her on the forehead. “You take anything?”

Reverie hesitates, but then says, “you mean take something that's gonna give me an ulcer, or something I could've borrowed from House?”

“Considering you just had a beer, I'm hoping it's not the latter.”

She bites her lip and looks far away from him, though he can't tell by the way her head is positioned. “Added to my risk of esophagitis.”

Chase isn't sure if it's a lie or not, but he wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, so he accepts Reverie's answer.

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Proud of you for not giving in to the temptation of narcotics.”

They're quiet for a minute, just holding each other, the sound of the fan and their hearts and breathing being the only things breaking what would be silence. Chase is half asleep, his eyes have fluttered shut and his breathing is deeper. Reverie slowly, carefully shifts her head so she can look at his face, and smiles when she catches a glimpse.

“Love you, Robert,” she whispers, pecking a kiss on his chest before shutting her eyes and falling asleep herself.

[strwberri-milk]

Baizhu, Zhongli, Xiao, Dainsleif, and kaeya (separately) x reader who has the same element or powers as them? Like for xiao another adeptus and for zhongli another immortal geo user , Dainsleif could have a reader who is also immortal and used similar powers to his? Fluff plz

Also how are you ?

a/n - I'm doing alright!! I started a job so that does monopolise my free time now since it takes up the slots I'm not using for classes but it's going well! I hope you enjoy the read - im still learning how i wanna write these charas so its probably gonna be ooc :D - also, i totally made a reference to my "series" Eternity is a Little Warmer With You bc i just had to aejiofwajw also crying shitting screaming this has been living in here for FAR too long i dont even know when it will be posted im SOBBING the same way i was when my coworker tried to put [REDACTED] in my face to fuck w me (i think shes great no worries shes so funny oawejfwaiod)

I don't think he expected to see another Dendro user in the area, much less one with an unfamiliar face. He makes it his business to know everybody in the harbour in case they require his services.

But, when you show up one day with a minor illness and the Dendro vision hanging from your clothes it piques his interest, which led to his continued visits to you under the pretense of taking care of you.

When things begin to develop further between the two of you I think he'd love to experiment more with your visions!

I see him using his vision in conjunction with his research and when he sees how different the way you use your powers he decides to experiment a little himself and see how effectively he can mimic it.

Overall, he would be fascinated with your abilities and would love to mess around with it a little! Even more so since you're doing it with him.

He had a lot of reservations when he first met you.

You were a terrifying anomaly to him, stirring emotions deep in his chest that he could never understand. However, with time you taught him he was allowed to embrace such thoughts and feelings,

It was terrifying to imagine a single day without your smile, but he knew that he would never wish this curse of immortality on you. He could never hurt you like that, force you to bear a burden that he was cracking under.

But when he told you about his curse the tears that slipped from your eyes matched with a happy smile made him take pause. He had no idea why you were reacting that way and only held your hand silently, brushing away tears with his other hand.

His hand stopped as you told him you were the same, your grasp tightening around his fingers as the realisation sunk in.

He was so afraid to hope for some sort of dimly lit future that could have you in it, intimately aware of the trials and tribulations you had to go through.

Now, with your hands joined together he can only think that eternity will be a little warmer at your side.

Xiao was aware that not all of the Adeptus perished in the war. He's only heard of a few of the others, less famous than him but still just as deserving of the title in his opinion. After all, you both worked hard to serve your Archon and were continuing to do your best.

When the two of you first met it was simple. A nod of your heads and you were both on your ways.

Once your patrol routes began to intersect it only took time and a few conversations under the light of the moon for him to find himself endeared to you.

It was easy with your smile and lack of pretense around him, and fortunately it seemed that the humans really were capable of protecting themselves.

Both being Adepti made it easier for him to understand why you said or did certain things what with your shared background. If anything, it helped make your bond stronger because the moments of silence were filled with an innate understanding he didn't feel like he had to explain.

At its core, your relationship is full of trust and unexplained pauses that fit comfortably between the space of your bodies. He feels fully at peace with you and knows that he can trust you with his heart and life.

He's still worried his karmic debt may stain you but the soft words of reassurance you whisper into his ear calm the thundering rush of his heart.

When Morax decided to live as Zhongli he knew that there would be things he would have to grow accustomed to as a human but also lots of things to learn.

When he first met you he didn't think he'd learn about love.

But it came so naturally to you, what with your natural curiosity and penchant for charming in the most innocuous of manners. To him, it seems human to explore the feelings you give him and so he does.

It won't stop the nagging voice in his head reminding him not to get too attached lest you slip from his fingertips far earlier than you should.

When you confess to him that you're immortal as well he does a bit of a double-take. Sure, he doesn't personally hand out visions but he thought he would have at least been familiar with a fellow immortal Geo user.

Regardless, he discloses to you a bit of his own truth with a kind smile, hugging you tightly to his body when he sees your body slump forward with relief.

Maybe one day he'll be able to disclose the other half of his secret but for now he was more than content to know that you two were going to be spending a lot more time than initially thought.

Cryo users aren't exactly rare so that wasn't what caught Kaeya's eye.

Instead, it was the fact that you pushed him out of the way when a hillichurl came barrelling towards him so fast he barely registered it.

The cold blast of ice against his skin made him think somehow he triggered his own powers without thinking until he heard the clinking of your vision against your clothes.

From there on he decided that he'd have to return the favour, deciding the best way to do that would be training with your visions.

Paradoxically, the chill of both your cryo visions does nothing to abate the warming of your bodies as you find some sort of rhythm while sparring together.

In fact, it only serves to make you both warmer when he pins you down underneath him. His cold hands hold your wrists in place over your head with a cocky, albeit out-of-breath smirk as he tries to think up what he wants to ask of you for his prize.

[jthebeauty]

Also if you ever gonna make another taiju thirst you can have taiju saying amen before the dinner table bc he is religous but the only meal he is eating is you splayed ontop of the table 😩🍆🤲

Grace.

Pairing: Taiju Shiba x F! Reader (18+)

CW: Biting, Breath Play, Choking, Cunnilugus + Face Riding, Kissing, Male Masturbation + Ejaculation, Nipple Play, Religious Praying, Slight Dacryphilia & Sadism, Smidgen of Fluff, (1) Spank, Spiting/Spit Kink, Squirting, Subtle Punishment, Penetration Talk, Vaginal Fingering. Taiju & Reader are Married. Minors & Ageless Bios/Blogs DNI!

Word count: 3.0k (HELP I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY)

A/n: YOU’RE SO BIG BRAINED TOSHII DHAHDHAVX. I know you sent something before this ask, but I just couldn’t hold back from finishing this literal fic- I mean thirst first. *hides* Taiju (eventually) eating out his wife on the dinner table below the cut.

“Thank you, God…” Taiju leans in closer, murmuring by your ear as his cheek pressed against yours. “Thank you for wealth and success. Thank you for blessing us with a house. Thank you for blessing me with a beautiful wife despite my wrongdoings in the past.”

You sit quietly, listening to your husband decompress and express gratitude. You knew better than to interrupt him as he said his routine grace. It was his way of winding down from a stressful day at work— and it was beneficial every time. He finds peace through this; deciding to give thanks no matter how his day ends.

He did the usual before you started dinner and he went to shower; lifted you up on the granite countertop with little effort; kept his eyes closed as he stood between your parted legs; placed both hands on your hips, slightly squeezing them tighter whenever he started to talk about you.

And you always did your part by welcoming him back home; allowing him to snatch you away from whatever you were in the midst of doing— as long as you were in the mood for him to do so.

It always started as something innocent, something sweet, something pure. You always support your husband in the best way you know how— and he does the very same for you as his wife.

But soon enough this time, things would quickly escalate— escalate beyond your control. All because Taiju decided to carry you from the kitchen to the center of the dinner table.

You didn’t question it aloud, but you still wondered why he decided to do something different today. Even so, you go with the flow— Taiju would soon be done within a few more seconds.

“She’s more than I could ever ask for,” his teeth softly nip at your earlobe. “She’s fuck- I mean perfect. She’s perfect. Amen.”

Oh shit.

You turn your head to the other side, hiding your face as you purse your lips.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

But the more you repeat it in your head, the more you feel compelled to do it. You couldn’t hold it back anymore; a small laugh eventually escaping past your lips.

Taiju kisses his teeth and moves his head from your ear to face you, the y-shaped vein on his forehead capturing your attention. Immediately, you clamp a hand over your mouth— eyes widening as you realize your slip.

“You find that funny?” a hand travels upwards from your hips, his fingertips deliberately ghosting over a hardened nipple through your silk shirt. His fingers reach their destination on your throat— the pads of his fingertips lightly squeezing at your pulse.

Things were starting to escalate.

“N-no,” you close your eyes, tilting your head back to expose more of your neck to him. “It's not funny.”

Taiju has you just where he wants you; your nails lightly scraping at the polished wood beneath your palms; the heat in his hold making your throat warmer; your breaths quickening as his grasp gets firmer.

“You’re in trouble now,” his other hand comes up to seize your jaw, fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Open your mouth.”

You obey, eyes opening to meet him as your lips part. He keenly watches your every move after that; the way your tongue seductively circles the outline of your lips; the way your tongue accumulates spit before you loll it out for him; the way your saliva steadily drips down to the tip of your tongue.

“C’mere,” Taiju brings his mouth to yours, pursing his lips as a sizable amount of spit hits your awaiting tongue. “Not laughing now, huh?”

You swiftly swallow without delay, the mess in Taiju’s boxer briefs only getting messier at the sight. The amount of pre-cum oozing from his tip starts to become apparent— a tinted spot on his grey pants growing larger by the minute.

“You’re right,” you bring your hand up to the wrist near your chin. You lick the dip in his hand between his thumb and index finger, slyly grinning as he watches you with parted lips. “Not funny at all.”

“Apologize to me,” his thumb soothingly rubs from right to left on your bottom lip, smearing some of your saliva on it. He knew what he was doing; tempting you to draw his digit into your mouth and suck on it.

“I’m sorry Taiju,” you murmur with lidded eyes.

“That’s it?” he briefly pushes his thumb inside of your mouth, retracting it when your tongue makes contact. “That’s all you have to say?”

“It was rude of me and I won’t do it again.”

Taiju smirks as he brings himself to your ear once more, the hand on your chin dropping to your ass. He abruptly squeezes a globe of flesh before resting his hand on it.

“Good girl,” he says in a hushed voice, readjusting his grip on your throat. “Cause the next time you pull a stunt like that, I might end up fucking you so hard, I break this table. And this table is expensive, angel… who do you think will have to replace it?”

“You would,” more heat rushes to your face and neck as your thighs instinctively attempt to clench together— several throbs from your clit causing you to shamelessly grind against his front. Taiju could never deny it even if he tried; you’re irresistibly sexy. And to top it off, you’re all his.

His cock couldn’t stop pulsating from the contact. The second he left his restaurant and got in his car, this very moment was all that he anticipated after he’d decompress.

“Right,” he brings his mouth close to yours, his heated gaze fixated on your plush lips. “Don’t provoke me if there’s a next time. I won’t hold back.”

“No promises,” you cup his jaw with one hand, the other clutching the back of his head. You pull him in, connecting your opulent lips with his soft ones.

The hand on your ass starts to grip and squeeze your cheeks harder, pressing you more into his bulge. You attempt to lift your legs at his hips, feebly locking them around him by your ankles.

Taiju’s lips slant over the entirety of your mouth, his tongue greedily sucking onto yours. You struggle to keep up— eventually permitting him to have his way with your lips and tongue.

As your husband’s teeth softly nip at your bottom lip, the hand placed on your throat drops to the front of his slacks. He chucks his belt, quickly hauling his zipper open before he was left in his boxer briefs. He recaptures your lips, his hand simultaneously returning to your throat again.

You can’t contain your high levels of titillation; your fingers frantically popping the buttons on his dress shirt. You feel him smile against your lips before he pulls away. He shrugs the white material off before his hands pull at the hem of your tank top.

You lift your arms as he slides the loose silk over your head, throwing it in the direction of his pile of clothes. Your husband could never grow tired of the sight in front of him; your hardened nipples no longer constrained by a layer of clothing; your chest slightly heaving as you catch your breath; your lips wet and swollen from him biting and sucking on them.

Taiju was brawling with his self-control in his mind. The urge to drag you down to your knees and use your throat at his disposal was starting to grow unbearable.

His gaze was starting to burn through your skin, making your hands grow clammy as they lay planted on the table beneath you.

You could tell what was on his mind. You prepare to get down, but Taiju’s hands gently grip your inner thighs— keeping you in place.

“Stay there,” he brings himself to your neck, lazily dragging his lips and nose against your skin. “I put you here… so I’ll be the one to take you off.”

He was slowly breaking you down; piece by piece; bit by bit. You’d soon forget what you were thinking about thirty seconds ago.

Your eyes flutter shut and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, bringing both hands to cradle the back of his head.

What was I thinking about again?

“Mm,” you shrug off the thought, relishing the feeling of your husband's soft lips against your skin. “Ah.”

A cocky smile comes across his lips as he continues to kiss along your collarbone and neck. There was nothing wrong with Taiju kissing your body as he pleases— you always adored the feeling.

It was just the way he did it that inevitably had you leaning into his touch; your mind engrossed in the feeling of his teeth nibbling all over your neck.

And you regularly had to wrestle with your thoughts so that you could pull yourself together again.

You need to make dinner.

“W-wait, let me get off the table first,” your hands travel to his shoulders, nails lightly digging into the skin over his deltoids. “You still haven’t eaten dinner.”

You readjust your legs around his hips, the heels of your feet pressing into his lower back. You’ve prepared yourself for Taiju to pick you up, but he doesn’t help you— deciding instead to lift his head and talk in your ear.

“Thank you for the reminder, angel,” the hands on your thighs sliding up to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down. He flings them across the floor— another addition to the pile. “I’ll be enjoying it now.”

You can feel yourself slipping away again as Taiju’s hands return to your thighs, prying them open with ease. With his eyes glued on the wet spot, he smirks, slowly lowering himself to his knees.

“Babe? I need to—”

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Taiju closes his eyes, blindly sliding your panties down your legs. You can’t stop yourself from letting him do it either. You enable it by elevating your hips, making it easier for him to finally have you fully naked. “Hallowed be thy name…”

Oh.

You’re trapped now. Just when you thought that your husband was done, he seemed to have something else in mind… or maybe this was his goal all along.

He was giving grace for a meal you didn’t even have the chance to make yet— or at first, you thought the dinner had to be made first.

“Thank you for providing the meal I’m about to eat,” he lubricates his lips, licking them as he inches closer to your cunt. “Amen.”

“This isn’t- ah, ah—”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” he mutters through harsh licks, yet you can still comprehend. “You know I didn’t ask.”

“S-sorry I—”

“You wanna get punished?” he encloses his lips around your clit, rigorously sucking the bundle of nerves. “Huh? You want that?”

“Tai—!” you jerk your hips at the electrifying feeling, subconsciously humping his mouth and nose. You throw your head back and your jaw falls slack as a result— a silent moan escaping your throat as your fingers rake through his semi-slicked back hair. “Fuck yes…”

Taiju’s hand slides up your body, seizing a nipple between his index finger and thumb. He rolls the nub before squeezing it; earning himself a strained moan from you.

His cock twitches and throbs at the sound; a new bead of pre-cum forming at the tip of his reddened head.

He couldn’t ignore the desire of his cock being engulfed by your tight walls; couldn’t ignore the desire to wrap his large hand around the girth of his cock as he savored your taste.

He was (more than) enjoying this moment; your hopeless body sprawled on the expensive table; legs resting on his shoulder; sounds escaping your mouth that only he could bring out of you.

He was (more than) impressed at this moment. He was proud of you for remembering about dinner— even as his lips invaded your neck earlier. He was proud of you for giving in to your wants instead of fighting them.

Taiju could feel you getting into it more by the way your grip on his hair tightened with every stroke of his tongue. He was beginning to feel generous, smirking as his rough licks softened and decreased in frequency— granting you permission to use his tongue however you please.

“Hey,” you swallow, chest heaving. “What’re you—”

“You know what to do, angel,” he flattened his tongue against your core before freeing his cock of its confinement.

His words had such an effect on you, that you didn’t even know where to begin. Did you really know what to do?

You start off slow; ensuring the end of every jerk of your hips is exaggerated. You gradually increase the pace at which your hips are moving— an electric feeling suffusing through your body each time the exposed part of your clit rolls against his tongue.

You’re lost in the sensations; your husband’s name freely escaping your mouth as he kneels before you, fisting his hard cock. But even so, you still wanted more— a hand leaving his head to toy with your nipples.

You knead your breasts with care, your fingers delicately pulling and pinching at the nubs simultaneously. You could feel the pressure in your core grow unbearable; an orgasm fastly approaching as you used your husband’s tongue to your advantage.

“Fuck,” Taiju grunts, stroking himself faster to the combination of your taste and breathy moans. He was dangerously close to cumming, but he needed something to set him off— something incredibly erotic.

He briefly pulls back and you groan in frustration. What was once within arm’s-length distance, was now miles away.

“Be patient,” his thumb circles your clit as he gathers saliva in his mouth. With his eyes focused on your cunt, he slightly lifts the hood of your clit before spitting on it— mentally cursing as it steadily trickles to your slit.

He was hanging by a thread the whole time you rode his face. He had multiple urges to push you down flat against the table— both hands around your neck as he plunges into your wet tight hole, gaping it to snug his girth. That thread eventually snapped once you clenched around nothing, drawing some of his spit into your cunt.

“Good girl,” he presses his nose and mouth back into your cunt, grunting as spurts of cum paint the floor below you white. Taiju recovers quickly, his tongue darting out to flick against your engorged clit.

“This won’t do,” he stands to his feet. “Let’s get you on all fours.”

Taiju supports you as you flip over, your incapacitated limbs making you waver— even as you prop yourself up on your elbows and forearms.

He pries your cheeks apart with two large palms, mouth salivating at his fresh view of your cunt. He licks the contour of your labia before using the tip of his tongue to repeatedly jab at your entrance— his cock hard all over again from the addictive taste.

“You must want me to fuck this pussy raw now, huh?” he kisses down your slit before licking his way back up. “You’re shaking, you know that?”

“Hurry up and—” you moan through gritted teeth, dropping your head to the table upon the entry of his middle finger.

“If I try to fit two inside,” his ring finger rubs against the underside of your clit. “My dick might get jealous.”

You whimper in response, fingers reaching for the edge of the table to cling onto. Taiju licks his lips, palming his cock at the loud squelches of his finger stimulating your walls.

“I wish you’d just put it in already,” you squeeze the wood between your fingers tighter. “I know you’re hard.”

“Shh,” his hand comes to your throat, slightly tilting your head back. “I took care of it.”

He wasn’t exactly telling a whole lie. Yes, he did stroke himself as he ate your pussy like a parched man. Yes, he did get off from doing so— your cunt sucking in his spit being what tipped him over the edge.

But now he was hard all over again— as if jerking off was only beneficial at that moment.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, voice desperate as your palms grow sore from squeezing the table too hard. “Put it in— please.”

“You’ll take whatever I give you,” a palm collides with your rear, making you clench around the thick digit thrusting inside of you. “If you don’t like it, then don’t cum— simple.”

“You’re not…” you pant as his grip on your neck tightens. “Playing fair.”

“How many times are you gonna use that line?” he grins, continuing to ream your wet hole as his fingers brush against your ass. “You don’t get tired of asking the same question, angel?”

“Just— oh my gosh,” your eyes water as his finger hits a sweet spot. “It’s there— right there.”

“Yeah?” he bites his lip, feeling your tears trickle down his fingers. “Right. Here?” he roughly plunges into you with each word before returning to a fast pace.

“Be careful,” a hushed moan vibrates the back of your hand, Taiju’s finger still pumping into your sopping heat. “I’m gonna cum.”

He wedges his bottom lip between his teeth, watching your release drip to the floor— relishing the way your walls frequently squeeze his finger as if it were his cock.

You slowly drop your hips as Taiju withdraws his finger. Your back’s arch becoming dull; your chest heaving as you steadily come down from your high. You lowly groan and wipe your teary eyes, hearing (what sounds like) your husband sucking his finger clean.

“I’ll get takeout, so don’t bring your stubborn ass to the kitchen to make dinner,” he helps you turn over again before picking you up bridal style. “Let’s get you showered.”

“You know the drill,” your arms and eyelids grow heavy. “Be—”

“Be your pillow,” Taiju finishes your sentence with a smirk, pecking your clammy forehead. “Yeah, I got it, angel.”

jthebeauty © 2021 — all rights reserved. Do not repost or recommend on other platforms, modify, translate or copy.

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[yuzukult]

no blueberries (m) || kth & reader

title: no blueberries pairing: kim taehyung x reader genre: angst, fluff, minor smut, romance, college!au, minor artist!taehyung word count: 12.3k prompt: no more!taehyung gets his heartbroken to the point he doesn’t even love his favorite fruit, blueberries, anymore. then he meets you, the complete opposite of the girl of his dreams, and suddenly, blueberries taste sweet again. warnings: explicit smut,,, but short :) a/n: she/her is no more!oc :) also, thank you guys for your support for no more & for the interest of the spin-off for taehyung !! (also don’t come at me at the end if i made any mistakes bc i gave up on rereading any of my work LOL i’ve sat on this too long)

His love for the color blue dissipates along with her slipping through his fingers.

Clear blue skies, ocean saltwater crashing alongshore, and the fresh picked blueberries are the three memories he has grown fond of. Without any gloomy clouds in sight, he gets the best view of her underneath the sunlight; her dress matches the powder blue that coats the skies on the day of the dinner with his estranged father. He longs for those beach days again; the crystalline waters flow past his hands when he dips them in the ocean, soothing all his nerves along with that smile that’s plastered on her face that beams brighter than the stars late at night. The saccharine laugh is parallel to the sweetness of the blueberries, his favorite treat, but the fruit has become sour with time, along with his feelings for her because she isn’t his. 

Taehyung hates the color blue.

He despises that the skies are similar to the dress she wore at the dinner she accompanied him with his estranged father. The royal blue that he paints on his walls had been his favorite, simply because it’s what she suggests, but since that very day, it doesn’t appeal to him in the same way it had before. Blue was the color of the ocean waves on the trip that the two of them went on together; toes dug into the warmth of the sand, sound of children cheering and laughing in the background with the sun’s rays heating their skin, and despite the scorching weather, it was still a moment he loved. But just like the consequence of being under the daylight without sunscreen, he burns. He’s burned and hurt from his love for her.

Taehyung doesn’t like blueberries anymore because of her. 

There's a shift in the mood around Taehyung. When she gets with Yoongi, it’s apparent that Yoongi isn’t who he used to be; he’s nicer, warmer, and gentler even, despite his consistent icy cold exterior, there’s now a crack in his facade and it’s because he has you. In contrast, Taehyung sets aflame from losing you.

He’s sour like blueberries when they’re picked too early; attitude tart because he recognizes how he feels for her too late. It’s why Jungkook makes it his priority to get Taehyung out of the shared apartment; both his current and past loves reside in that space with his friends.

Pushing his friend to work on his artwork proves to be strenuous. “I’m not creative enough,” Taehyung admits sadly. “I lost my muse.” Or when Jungkook suggests playing basketball for the afternoon, Taehyung counters back that he’s tired. Dressing up and hitting the club for hot girls doesn’t even get him to flinch like it used to—the boy is officially heartbroken.

“How about a job at the library?” Jungkook urges another day, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s slowly running out of options here, but he isn’t ready to give up on Taehyung just yet.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Are we still doing this? Why can’t I just… mope.”

“You can.” Jungkook nods, pursing his lips in thought. “But, the grace period for moping is over. Now, we have to be proactive.”

After some continuous jabbing, Taehyung agrees to take the job.

He works there mostly at night, spending the late hours of the day filing books away in their designated spots on the shelves. It’s quieter during these shifts; the remainder of students that occupy the tables are often silent, ears covered with their headphones or buds, blasting music away without a care for their surroundings. Taehyung prefers this, simply because his own home has become a place of discomfort; giggles from the rooms next door that pierce through the thin drywall, soft whispers and nudges in the hallways, and movies blaring on the TV during their double dates. He often feels like a fifth wheel in his apartment; a useless accessory that hangs at the back of a vehicle, only desperately needed in an emergency.

This is nice. He could get used to this.

But he doesn’t.

Crunch, crunch. The crackling of the toasted bread echoes throughout the entirety of the room, bouncing off the walls in elevation, causing Taehyung’s skin to crawl. He knows who the culprit is because it’s the same one every time. If he was a hero that saves the library, you were without a doubt, the villain. 

You’re an enemy in his eyes disguised as a co-worker. Your course load prohibits you from having a normal schedule, so you’re stuck on these later shifts with Taehyung, and more often than not, he ends up despising it. There’s something about you that he doesn’t like, and he can’t quite pinpoint it but everything about you triggers his anger too easily.

Pushing his cart of books to you, who sits calmly by the front desk with the sandwich in hand, he rolls his eyes. “You realize we’re in a library, right?”

“I do,” you hum, taking another crispy bite of the banh mi sandwich. It’s your go-to order, Taehyung learns, and you gravitate towards that specific meal at least once a week. And for some odd reason, you favor bringing it here, a sacred place where silence is imperative. “It’s also my break.”

“It’s always a break. We barely have any work here.”

You raise a brow at the male questioningly. “Okay, but according to labor laws, if we’re on shift for eight hours, we deserve at least a ten to fifteen minute break. And, well, I’m going to be here for eight hours.”

Taehyung doesn’t like you. He thinks you’re snappy, groggy, and overly confident for someone who should be a bit kinder. You never care about what people think of you, frequently having a rebuttal for every argument and comment that might stab your pride, but you never show signs of backing down. You don’t look offended or hurt, just annoyed that whomever it is even had the courage to say anything remotely close to trying to insult you. 

You do what you want, and other people's feelings don’t matter.

Strangely, you’re not narcissistic either. He’s confused with how he feels about you because he can’t seem to figure you out. You’re different from her, he thinks to himself, and Taehyung finds that he compares you to her whenever you do something that causes his fists to clench and jaw to tighten.

“And you chose to eat a loud sandwich in that span of fifteen minutes?”

“What’s up your ass? Why do you keep bugging me?” Your finger loops underneath the soda can tab, and it pops obnoxiously loud with a sizzle, earning a groan from Taehyung. How could someone who works at the library tell the students who attend it to stay hushed when they’re the ones making the noise themselves? “Don’t keep it up. That’s how the last dude lost his job. By being annoying.”

“You’re the one being annoying,” he spits, huffing heatedly. “I swear you only bring the most deafening types of foods to eat here. Why can’t you eat like… kimbap or something? It’s rice, not crunchy, and it tastes good.”

“Mm, but potato chips are so good. And toasted sammies. How about those spicy seaweed snacks?”

Taehyung grimaces. “And all you eat is junk food. Ridiculous.”

“You want me to eat a salad?” You query, leaning back in your swivel chair. Even in a quarrel, you manage to stay serene, as if Taehyung didn’t take a jab at your eating habits only seconds before. “Kinda raucous if you asked me.”

Kim Taehyung hates you, but he deals with you anyway. He’s met worse people in his life; people who steal the girl he’s in love with, and people who get the dream girl when they don’t deserve her.

When she comes in a pretty pink dress, Taehyung’s breath is stuck in his throat. He feels his heart flutter, skip a beat, and his intestines tie in a knot, anxiety flooding through his veins like he shot it up his bloodstream to feel the high. 

But he doesn’t feel high. He’s just incredibly nervous. Whenever he sees her, it’s a constant reminder that his heart’s shattered like broken pieces of dropped china. It was too late when he realized his true feelings for her, and it’s when she’s already been scooped up by another, someone who isn’t even worthy to receive her love. 

“I borrowed this book last Wednesday,” she grins cheekily, waving a copy Of Mice and Men, a novel by John Steinbeck that you recalled was Taehyung’s favorite (from overhearing a conversation with him and some other chick who was also checking out a book). “Which… by the way, was the last time I saw you, and it was in passing. What’s been up with you lately? You never want to hang anymore.”

Taehyung rubs his nape, chewing on his bottom lip awkwardly. He doesn’t want to confess that it’s because of his infatuation with her, that watching her be lovey dovey with a guy he resents isn’t how he wanted to spend his free time. “Sorry. Been caught up here lately.”

“At… the library?” She quirks a brow. She’s too smart, Taehyung thinks to himself, because she catches him in his own lies routinely, especially with how things have been lately. 

“Uh, yeah. Guess everyone’s doing their book reports and just cramming in for midterms.” Yeah. That sounds like a solid excuse. He gives himself a mental pat on the shoulder for coming up with a half-decent reason. Maybe it’ll be enough to get her off his back for a little while.

“Right…” Her voice is saturated with skepticism, and if she was truly doubtful, she doesn’t act on it right away. “I guess… I’ll be returning this.” She slides the slightly worn paperback book across the wooden receptionist desk, and Taehyung does his job of inputting it into the system. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, two friends who used to be close but grew distant, and there’s no one to blame but Taehyung.  

“Are… are you sure you’re alright?” She questions again, trying her best to observe his expression. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Like you’re avoiding me or something. I barely see you over at your apartment. Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” Taehyung says, voice pitched higher than usual. It earns a contorted look from you, who also works behind the counter, arranging the books into their specific piles. He scoffs, stuttering over his own words when he talks to her, obviously caught red-handed. “W-Whaaat? Of course not. I’m just… super busy lately, trust me.”

She sucks in her cheeks. “I really don’t believe you, but I won’t probe any further.” Sighing, her shoulders drop along with the expression on her face. “I know that interrogating you won’t make it any better, and I want you to confront me with what you’re going through when you’re ready.”

When she says her goodbyes, Taehyung tosses his body onto the nearest chair and slouches. It took a lot of energy within him to lie because he’s never hid the truth from her before. 

“So she’s the girl you’ve been in love with?”

Taehyung freezes momentarily. “What?”

You pop a yellow sour patch kid in your mouth. It’s your second favorite flavor just behind the orange colored one, but Taehyung isn’t really sure why he knows this. “The chick. I remember that tall pretty boy coming by the other day and mentioning her. She’s the chick you’ve been in love with?”

The boy scowls. “What’s it to you?”

You hum dismissively, “I’d be a better girlfriend.”

Taehyung doesn’t like you very much. And truthfully, he thought the same feelings were reciprocated. You eat loud food purposely in a library, have no regard for others, and you love fueling the fire with him. 

So when you say those words, he thinks it’s a prank. “What?” He laughs in disbelief, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’d be a better girlfriend for you. Let’s date.”

Taehyung still can’t get over that day.

Your words haunt him worse than the aftermath of a horror movie; those ghostly words repeating in his ears and continuously on repeat like an endless time loop. I’d be a better girlfriend for you. Let’s date. Did you actually mean that?

Seconds after you said those very words, he was left speechless; words caught in the passages of his airways and he truly didn’t know how to respond. And with that, you shrugged before walking away without anything else to say, leaving guilt to gnaw on his insides.

He doesn’t know. Your comments are often sharp like the edge of a knife, quick and pierces through the skin easily, but that one time didn’t feel like it normally does. Did you truly mean what you said, or was it another practical joke?

The next shift he has with you, you’re rather calm. You don’t show any signs of dejection, but truthfully, you never do. If you had any, you were a professional at masking it and he makes a mental note to suggest an acting career. Seated in front of the library’s check-out computer with your laptop beside it, you stream some drama that he’s unfamiliar with. You have an airpod in one ear, the other one without, in case a student comes by to borrow a book. Peering over your shoulder, he furrows his brows in concentration, trying to make out what you’re so engrossed with.

“I still want you,” the subtitle reads underneath the scene of a woman that’s close to your age, her eyes teary with a quivering bottom lip. She’s looking at a guy who stands before her with his gaze averted from hers, trying his best to not fall for her tactics. Taehyung expects you to showcase some type of melancholic emotion, to appear sympathetic for the character but instead, a soft chuckle escapes from your chest. 

“Funny,” you mumble to yourself, fingers reaching over to grab a bag of chips from your backpack. Was this what you found… amusing? Without the slightest care you loudly tear open the bag, earning a groan from Taehyung.

“Seriously?”

“Oh.” You turn to look at him. “You’re here? You want some?”

“We’re always on shift together. What makes you think this time is any different?”

Twisting your body back to your computer, you tap the spacebar to continue the drama. You shrug nonchalantly. “Just figured since my confession, you’d be scared to work with me.”

Appalled, his mouth drops open in complete incredulity. “Wh-what? You were actually serious? I thought you were doing that thing people do in Punk’d. The whole ‘Ashton Kutcher does something outrageous and tricks you’ act. You can’t possibly like me… right?”

Even though the back of your head is facing him, he could already sense your eye roll. Taehyung may not understand you entirely, but he can almost predict that attitude you radiate on a perpetual basis. “Well, obviously I do. I mentioned to you last time that I thought I’d be a better option for you and we should date.”

“But you didn’t sound sincere—”

“Kim Taehyung.” Your chair swivels around abruptly, and his heart nearly drops to his ass. Voice stern, and stare hard, he admits that although he often retaliates to your quips, he still fears you to a certain extent. “I said, ‘let’s date.’ Not, ‘let’s date, haha, JK.’ Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now, would we?”

He gulps. 

Quite frankly, you’re very beautiful. Even on days where you’ve wholly given up on life and opt for looking like a bum, you’re still breathlessly gorgeous. There’s something about your demeanor that is evidently intimidating but you’re that girl, the one people flinch when you glance over in their direction and because of that, Taehyung never really considered you as anything other than an acquaintance. 

Really, you’re quite the opposite of her, and the thought of you potentially being a girlfriend never crossed his mind. 

“Well, I mean…” Taehyung puffs his cheeks briefly in thought. Coming to terms that you, the girl who is definitely the most adverse to his usual type, are crushing on him… doesn’t seem very realistic. “I think I need time to sit on it.”

“Sure,” you state coolly, like nothing affects you at all. If you were infatuated with Taehyung and had your heart broken just now, he would never know. You hold yourself so well, face solid yet at the same time lax. He’s lost when it comes to you. “Let me know what you think. I’ll be here, as usual. But don’t let me wait long.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “Why do you say that?”

“As scary as you think I am, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a queue of people wanting to date me.”

There are a lot of things that Taehyung doesn’t fully grasp. For one, he doesn’t get the whole ‘physics’ thing. Who is Newton and why does he need three laws of motion to elaborate that things that move just… move? Not to mention, old literature makes absolutely no sense to him. Who is Julius Caesar and why did he have to die? Can’t the writer just… keep him alive?

You call Taehyung an idiot majority of the time, and he doesn’t deny this. And yet, he’s confused because you’re the one who professed feelings, so… why are you into a guy that you claim is an absolute doofus?

For someone who knows a lot of these things and works in a library, you don’t read often. But Taehyung doesn’t either. Albeit, he’s clueless as to how you’re so knowledgeable in these topics, especially when you’re always fucking around half the time.

“How do you know so much about… everything?” Taehyung blurts one day randomly, halfway through your shift at 11:00PM. It’s your break, he recollects. Practically every time the clock strikes that time, you don’t fail to mention it and he figures it’s a good moment to crack the silence to interrogate you a little. You don’t talk about yourself regularly, and how’s he supposed to come to the conclusion of making you his girlfriend when he barely knows you?

“Excuse me?” You’re mid-bite into your kimbap, which he takes note of that you took his suggestion. Maybe you do listen to things he says. Despite the fact you’re eating it like a hot dog instead of cutting it into pieces, he appreciates the effort. “Know everything about what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Stuff.” He shrugs, not entirely sure what he was asking anyway. “You know. You seem to get the whole science stuff and books or whatever. But you don’t read.”

“... And?”

“Well like… how?”

You blink blankly. “Well, I could say the same for you. How do you paint and stuff?” You’re mocking him, something that he’s grown accustomed to, and it earns you a sigh. “I don’t know how to sketch, paint, or draw. So how do you do that?”

He hums in thought, leaning back against one of the bookshelves behind the counter. “Inspiration sparks, and I just… get in the zone. Paintbrush in hand, tubs of paint lined up in front of my canvas—it’s kind of hard not to paint.”

“Right,” Tapping your fingers against the wooden desk, you tilt your head. “So, how do you paint? How do you make it look good, and how do you make things the way that they seem?”

“P...Practice?”

“Sure. Let’s say practice then. I don’t willingly learn about stupid things like integrals or The Great Gatsby, and they’re merely just assignments that I so-called ‘practiced’ in order for them to make sense. But—not everyone gets it and that’s okay. You’re just… one of those.”

Taehyung snorts. “O-One of those? You make me seem stupid.”

“I mean… you are, don’t waste your time denying that.” Just when Taehyung makes an attempt to interject to defend himself, you’re faster at responding, “But, you’re very talented. You’re not smart in those other things, but you’re smart with art. I’m not. So don’t think that you’re the full hundred percent stupid.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever complimented him… well, sort of. Maybe you’ve got a sweet spot that people don’t know about.

There’s that tall-pretty-looking guy again, asking for Taehyung on Monday night with a blazer in hand. He’s got his hair slicked back with a heavy amount of gel, a kind smile on his face, and a soothing voice that questions where his friend is.

“Is uh… Kim Taehyung here?”

You click your tongue. “What’s it to ya?”

Taehyung grumbles from behind, shoving you aside to make way for himself. Frowning, you let him get away with it for now, and possibly show him what karma means later, so you head to the backroom in the meantime. “Sorry, hyung. She likes to play around a lot. What’s up?”

Seokjin raises a brow teasingly. “What? She’s got a little crush on you or something?”

Taehyung exhales a sharp breath with a glare. “Yes but I don’t want to get into the details. You brought back my blazer?”

His friend is tempted to probe for more, but he has his reasons for being here. “So uh, thanks for lending me this. The one I had was for… the fourteen-year-old version of Kim Seokjin. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Taehyung grins cheekily, turning over to hang it on the door handle. “Appreciate you giving it back to me.”

There’s a minor pause between the two. Seokjin quietly rolls his lips as he bounces on the tips of his shoes with his hands dug deep into the front of his pockets. Deciding it was time to confront his friend, he finally breaks the silence. “... I heard some rumors going around that… you’ve had a thing for uh,” he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Her.”

The name doesn’t need to be said for Taehyung to know; practically everyone in their mutual friend group is aware of his evident feelings except for the couple themselves. “And what did those rumors say exactly?”

“You might’ve, well… had feelings for her. Even though she’s with… Yoongi. Not to mention that one time you tried setting her up with Namjoon—” Taehyung scrunches up his nose as he waves his hand in front of Seokjin in dismissal. “Eugh. Don’t continue, please. I already know.”

“Well, dude. Spill. What’s up?”

Sighing frustratedly, Taehyung runs his fingers through his disheveled ebony locks. He’s been meaning to go for a new look lately, especially since he’s been planning on starting over a new leaf after getting his heart broken. “I just… I’m over it, alright? I realized that I loved her but by the time I figured that out, Yoongi already mended the broken heart that he caused. Either way, it’s not worth it to think about it again. It’ll only make me feel shittier.”

Seokjin gives Taehyung that look—the look that all his friends have been giving him when they realize that the girl he’s been in love with has found love in another. “How about we hit the club on Friday?”

Taehyung winces. “Friday? I have work on Friday.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “You’ve been so caught up in work that you forgot Friday is a holiday. All of the University closes that night. That includes the library.”

“Dammmnnn, Taehyung!” Jungkook hollers, whistling between his two fingers. Taehyung’s cheeks are rosy from his friend’s actions, and he’s thankful that the music in the club is blasting or else heads would, without a doubt, be turning in his direction. When in reality, they’re turning to see him anyway because he does look really good tonight. “You clean up nice. Looking for a girlfriend?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at his friend, a trait that he realizes he’s slowly stealing from you. Were you really that contagious? “Seokjin invited me to come, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Let’s at least get you a girl to go home with tonight,” Jungkook winks, and Taehyung’s nose twitches in response.

“Chill out, will you?” 

The club and party life has never been Taehyung’s scene, but coming out here tonight is a nice change of pace. He’d been working endlessly throughout the past month, spending incessant hours in between bookshelves, organizing said books, and sitting in a library full of at least four people during those nights while dealing with your boisterous chewing.

Speaking of you….

Why is that even on a day where he doesn’t have a shift with you, he still runs into you outside of work?

And—why do you look like… that?

“Guk,” You grin, hand on his shoulder. Although your makeup isn’t heavy, it still emphasizes your beauty and he’s not sure if he’s used to this side of you. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Jungkook twists himself around, a bright smile slapped across his face, and Taehyung nearly catches a glimpse of the hearts in his eyes. Does Jungkook have a crush on you? Is that why the two of you are so close?

“Hey… Hey!” He greets, recognizing that it’s you standing by him, all confident in your black, skin-tight dress that hugs your body well. Taehyung has to avert his gaze momentarily, sipping on his glass bottle of beer before you catch him in the act. He knows that he won’t hear the end of it if you knew he was checking you out. “I’m always here on Fridays. Gotta occupy my free time with something, right?”

“Evidently not in the library with your face in the books, it seems.” You joke, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. That’s when you see him, and Taehyung almost chokes on his beer when your lashes flutter in his direction. “Oh, lookie here. It’s the artsy boy.”

“... Yeah, uh that’s me. ‘Sup?” Why’s he suddenly acting weird now that you’re all dressed up? He has to shake his head from these weird thoughts. It feels that he’s been identified for his strange actions because you let out a sweet laugh that pulls on the recoil start in his chest like a lawn mower, and his heart stutters.

You don’t say anything in return, an eye-smile upon your pretty face before saying your goodbyes. “I’m just uh, gonna head back to my friends. Good seeing you… outside of work, Tae.”

Tae. Is that how you would’ve referred to him if you weren’t co-workers?

Jungkook snorts, snapping Taehyung out of his trance. “Dude, you good?”

“Uh, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mm,” Jungkook hums teasingly, swirling the drink in hand. “So… what’d you think of her since you guys started working together?”

Taehyung eyes his friend suspiciously. “She seems… alright. Why? You into her? Why don’t you date her?”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, on the verge of slipping off the stool he sits on. “Simple. Because she’s a friend, but also too bold for me. I like shy girls. But you… you should go for her. She’s not your type, yeah, but you might find something worthwhile if you date her.”

“That goes the same for you.” Taehyung quirks a brow.

“That… yeah, that’s true. But she’s cool and I only see her as a friend.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs, taking another swing of his beer, basking in the loud music and lights that flicker around the venue. “But she’s just… not my type.”

“Not your type, or… not her?” Jungkook grabs his drink, prepared to turn away but not before he says, “Maybe you should give her a shot.”

That statement haunts Taehyung for the rest of the night.

You’re so… pretty, he notices, watching the way your eyes get sparkly underneath the club’s lights. Reds, blues, greens—there isn’t a shade that can unflatter you; in fact, you’re even… prettier? He’s left in awe, watching the way you sway to the music in the midst of the crowd, and still manage to capture his attention in a way his professors never could.

Then the image of you devouring a bowl of noodles at work appears, slurping away while twirling in your swivel chair in an attempt to challenge yourself to see if you could prevent the soup from spilling.

Of course. Why isn’t he surprised?

Embarrassingly, he and Jungkook get a little out of hand with the alcohol consumption that night. It’s so bad that it gets your attention, the girl that he’s supposedly irked by. 

“I’ll call them an uber,” you assure one of their friends, Seokjin, who looks at you uneasily. “I’ll even ride with them.” 

That night, Taehyung’s memory about what exactly happened is a bit foggy. But, he arrives home safely after punching in his address messily into your phone, mumbling the numbers incoherently while Jungkook is completely knocked out on the bench outside of the club.

He doesn’t remember, but you do. Taehyung looked adorable with his burning cheeks; giggly and in a daze from all the alcohol in his system. He mutters a handful of things, but the one that piqued your curiosity is when he leaned close, mouth twitching with a soft chuckle with a tap of your nose as he whispers, “you’re pretty.”

Kim Taehyung thinks you’re pretty.

Taehyung feels absolutely disgusting. He’s on the verge of wanting to vomit yet at the same time pass out. He’s paler than he is normally, lips blue like he just drank a whole 62oz of blue raspberry Slurpee, and he currently has his hands on his stomach while sweating profusely. He’s already drenched his shirt and he’s only a ten minute walk to the library.

“Eugh.” Startled, you stumble back against the counter when Taehyung walks in. Initially, you traded a shift with one of your coworkers today, supposedly getting off around the time of Taehyung’s arrival. “You look… gross. What’s up with you?”

“I think I have the stomach flu,” he says weakly, leaning against the wall for support. “But no one can cover my shift.”

“Eugh,” you reiterate, scrunching up your nose in repugnance. “That’s gross. You gotta head home.”

“No one can cover for me—” 

Pushing him off the wall, you guide him into the direction of the front door. “Eugh, please do me a favor and get your disgusting ass out of here. I’ll stay for your shift.”

Taehyung is way too sick to even notice how nice you’re being, despite the harsh words coming out of your mouth.

It gets even worse when you get off his shift, standing at his doorstep with a bag of food in your hand. He has tissues shoved up his nose, a loose tee on with holes at the neckline, and sweatpants that drag across the floor because they’re two sizes too big.

“What—what are you doing here? How do you know where I live?” he sputters like the engine of a broken car. “It’s like… five in the morning.”

“Yeah, I got that, I have a phone that tells time. I should be asking you since you responded to my text so quickly? Also, how did you think you got home that night at the club?” He’s confused. Why are you at his house? Did you give him a ride? Then, your expression changes to an annoyed one within seconds, and he almost hears the growl coming up your throat. “Well? Are you going to invite me in or what? I got you food.”

He doesn’t know how he got to this position, but he’s sitting on the floor of his living room with you, a space in his own apartment that he hasn’t been in since she started spending time here with Yoongi to hang out. You’ve pulled out containers full of congee and side dishes, laying them out on his small coffee table before handing him a disposable spoon. “Eat.”

He doesn’t know how he got to this position, but he’s sitting on the floor of his living room with you, a space in his own apartment that he hasn’t been in since she started spending time here with Yoongi to hang out. You’ve pulled out containers full of congee and side dishes, laying them out on his small coffee table before handing him a disposable spoon. “Eat.”

“Uh…”

“No, I didn’t poison it. And yes, I know… sadly it’s not crunchy but you’re sick so just deal with it.”

Dipping your spoon in his congee, you lick the contents off cleanly, showcasing that it is very much not poisoned. “Eat. Then we can sit and let your stomach digest it. Solids aren’t good when you have a stomach flu.”

“What about the rest?” He queries, shoulders dropping at the thought of missing out on such delicious looking side dishes.

“Mm. Sucks. Guess I’ll have to eat it all,” you shrug calmly, diving straight into the kimchi. He can’t help but stifle a soft laugh at this, remembering how gorgeous you looked at the club that night, dancing your problems away with the flickering colorful lights, and how you are now, underneath the fluorescent light of his living room, crunching on your kimchi pieces at five in the morning.

And weirdly enough, you’re still gorgeous even now.

“Wanna watch something?” You ask, breaking the silence while gesturing to the TV with your head. 

“Sure.” His voice is still groggy, but he’s already feeling a bit better after a couple mouthfuls of congee. “What did you have in mind?”

“Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

It’s sort of nice having you here like this: in his apartment, dressed snugly in your most comfortable clothes while keeping him company in spite of whatever bug he has in his system. You look lovely like this, even though your eyes are slightly sunken from the extra hours at the library, with smudged mascara that was applied yesterday. And honestly? Taehyung’s slowly seeing you in a different light– he’s unsure what’s got his stomach churning, but it’s definitely not the stomach flu.

There’s definitely something in the medicine that you force feed down his throat after one of the episodes, because he knocks out cold on the couch for three hours straight until startled awake from your abrupt movements.

“Hey.” He tries shaking you, eyes barely open but he manages to steal a glance at the hanging analog clock. “Go home. It’s eight in the morning. I’m gonna get you sick.”

You shove his arm away, snuggling close to the corner of the sofa. “Whatever, I’m fine. My immune system is built like a Transformer, I used to volunteer at nursing homes and daycares.”

… A weird response, indeed, but Taehyung is too sleepy to even care, to the point that he doesn’t realize that he’s fallen asleep with his arm wrapped around you, and you must’ve twisted your body around in your slumber because your head is resting cosily on his chest.

“Oh, this is cute.”

That voice sounds familiar to Taehyung’s ears, and it stirs him awake. That’s when he notices her, a sight that has him staggering out of this awkward yet comfortable position, forcing a limp body off him that it earns a scowl from you. “Kim Taehyung.” You grumble, hair disheveled and covering your field of vision.

There she stands, between the kitchen and the living room, in that powder blue sundress that Taehyung used to love. He could already imagine himself at the beach like that very day; toes buried in the warmths of the sand, skin absorbing the rays of the sun, and heart feeling full because he’s with her. Her hair is done nicely today, seemingly for a special event that he’s unaware of, and the smile that tugs on the edges of her lips is only proof of it. 

“H-hey. You look good. Heading out?”

Even when she adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder it takes the breath out of Taehyung’s lungs. And that’s not because he’s sick. “Yeah. Yoongi and I are heading to the beach today to have a picnic. I heard the weather is nice today, so we figured it’d be cute.”

Hearing Yoongi’s name instead of his own drops his heart. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him that got to love her in that way, to hold her hand and call her his own. “Wow, that’s uh… that’s sweet. You guys have fun.”

She gestures to you, who finds home in the corner of his couch again, hugging the armrest restfully. “So… is she your girlfriend?” Her gaze shifts to the table where a bag of trash from your meal this morning resides. “And I see she brought you food. Were you sick, Tae?”

It’s different, the way she says Tae in comparison to how you did on that Friday night. This time, it doesn’t sound as honeyed. There’s something about you when you say Tae instead of a stern version of Taehyung, like night and day, or even like those sour patch kids that you love so much—sour first, then sweet. But what he’s detecting is that her version doesn’t cause his heart to skip a beat like it used to.

“Uh, yeah. We had some congee and I drank some medicine. But… uh, we’re not dating, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just a coworker.”

Right. That’s who you were. Just a coworker. A coworker who wants to date him.

Taehyung tosses a mysterious brown paper back onto the receptionist desk. “Here.”

Watching him carefully, you furrow your brows curiously at his unfamiliar behavior. “What’s that?”

“It’s to pay you back,” he says, clearing his throat afterwards, in hopes of releasing whatever awkward feelings reside inside him. “For, uh, checking in on me. Getting me food and whatnot. It was… pretty helpful. I didn’t eat that day and I couldn’t gather enough energy to cook for myself.”

Reclining in your swivel chair, you’re still not convinced that this isn’t some prank. You don’t trust Taehyung, despite your current crush on him, because he doesn’t like you that way or he just doesn’t show it. Taehyung doesn’t like that you’re bold, he doesn’t like that you laugh with your entire body, and he hates that you do everything on his pet peeve list without having to look at it. “Open it.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “You don’t trust me.”

“Hell no I don’t.”

Taehyung inhales deeply, opening the bag before peering in. “For someone who says they want to date me, you really don’t act like it.”

You’re intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

As he’s pulling out boxes of takeout, your mouth begins to water from the aroma that ghosts under your nose. “Well, for one, you’re not very nice to me despite this… crush,” he says, waving one of the boxes in front of you in an attempt to get his point across but you’re too infatuated by the smell. “And when I tell you I don’t like something, you still do it anyway. You know it’s my pet peeve right? The whole loud eating?”

“I don’t eat loud, I just eat loud food,” you correct him, scooting closer to the counter. “Plus, why do I have to cater to your interests? It’s who I am. Anyways, what did you get me?”

Fried chicken. It’s five different types of fried chicken with coleslaw and mashed potatoes doused in gravy, and if you're being quite frank, you’re a bit taken aback that he chose this since fried is often associated with… crispy. And crispy? Crispy is noisy. “Wh—Why fried chicken?”

“Cause yeah, it’s annoying to hear the crisp when you first bite into it but it’s not as irritating as toasted bread. Plus, I heard that fried chicken is your favorite.”

“From who?”

“Jungkook.” He folds the paper bag, tucking it underneath one of the containers. “So uh… speaking of Jungkook, did you… did you guys ever have a thing? I mean… feel free not to answer, I was just uh… curious.”

Already shuffling to open the boxes, you’re prepared to haul all this food into your black hole of a stomach but you pause your movements when you hear his question. You can’t help but snort. “Why? Are you jealous? I don’t think you have the right to be, though. You never gave me a straightforward answer. We should just date so you don’t have to worry about Jungkook snagging me.”

That green little monster full of envy that everyone’s always talking about? Taehyung used to feel that when he saw her with Yoongi, so he’s quite familiar with the creature. But what he’s not used to is that it’s popping up while he’s thinking of you and Jungkook possibly being a couple. 

Taehyung swallows, turning his head away, striving to hide this weird thing going on in his chest. “You don’t really like me, do you? You’re just saying that stuff to make me uncomfortable because you like teasing me.”

Crunch. Taehyung grimaces at the sound, but that cute, joyous smile on your face makes up for it.

“True. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not serious when I say that I’d be a better girlfriend for you.”

He chokes on a breath, punching his own chest in order to regain himself. “What? You can’t just say stuff like that!”

Confused, you tilt your head. “And why not?”

“Because you don’t really like me.”

Rolling your eyes, you clean your chicken wing bone of its meat in seconds, and Taehyung truly thinks you’ve got a talent for eating. Throwing it onto one of the lids, you let out a sigh. “I don’t know how to get it through your head. But Kim Taehyung, hear this and let it get through your head, will you? I think we should date. You should be my boyfriend. So, take it into consideration or just… date me.”

Taehyung loves to paint. He still doesn’t understand the differences between affect or effect, but he knows that azure and cobalt are two vastly disparate shades of blue. The color wheel is practically engraved into his brain, and he’s got a skill when it comes to mixing colors to the ones that match what runs through his imagination. 

He finds it calming, letting the bristles of the brushes glide on the canvas, like ice skaters that dance across the smoothness of the rink, the paint blending with the other shades that resemble the ones in the sky, just like that day at the beach with her. Taehyung doesn’t know what hits him, this urge to impetuously grab his tools and start creating art. Nothing has spurred him recently, revving the artistic side of him that he so desperately craved for motivation for. Usually, heartbreak does wonders to the imagination. But for some reason, it hasn’t stimulated anything.

Then, in the midst of being in the zone, he groans.

One of the hairs on his brush sticks out from the rest, causing a small line of blue marks on another part of his canvas, where blue isn’t supposed to be.

Taehyung hurls the brush into his cup of water, feeling discouraged. Maybe if he had saved up enough, he could afford that expensive brush set that he’s been eyeing for years. But from having to pay rent, groceries, other basic necessities and books, there doesn’t seem to be any room in his budget to purchase such an outrageously overpriced painting bundle that… only… the pros have.

And coincidentally, it’s time for his shift at the library.

You’re beginning to grow on him, he thinks, but he shakes off the thought. You’re still you, nonetheless–a very blunt, aggressive and bold person who obviously says things that they don’t mean… unless, did you really mean it when you said you wanted to date him?

Taehyung is torn. On one hand, he thinks you’re out of his league—not in the way that you’re too cool for him, but rather that you’re on the complete opposite spectrum of him. You’re not artistic, you don't have a creative bone in your body, and you’re often fascinated in things that he doesn’t find much interest in, such as conspiracy theories or how steak is dry aged (what does that even mean?), and true crime podcasts (was he going to die if he flat out rejected you?)

He’s never dated anyone remotely close to you, but then again, he hasn’t had any successful relationships in the past with the girls he’s been with that all sort of had the same traits. Is going out of his comfort zone the answer to his troubled love life?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair. He’s been on shift for hours, and for some reason, you’ve randomly called out. Namjoon comes in as your replacement, and there’s nothing wrong with the dude but he’s just not… you. There’s no loud chewing, sharp insults and rebuttals, but… silence, just as a library should be. 

Did he strike a chord and you finally decided that he’s been taking too long and you’d rather work somewhere else or with someone else? Or did something happen to you? Were you sick maybe? Caught in an accident? 

Before his thoughts can continue to run wild, he almost mistakes reality with a dream because you walk through the front doors of the library, two drinks in hand with your hair let loose and out of your usual low bun.

“Sup.” 

That’s it? You call off your shift without telling him prior, and the only thing you say is ‘sup’?

He doesn’t know what takes over him, but he jolts up from his seat with the fronts of his brows dipped down in anger. “Sup. That’s all you have to say? Why didn’t you come in? And why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”

You shrug nonchalantly, handing over one of the iced coffees. “Needed a bit of a break, so Namjoon over there said he didn’t mind covering,” you turn over to wave at the boy in between the shelves placing the books back to where they belong, “... and I felt a bit burnt out to be quite honest. Working here at night while all your friends are having fun really takes a toll on you. I needed a mental health day, so.. Hope you don’t mind. But, if you agreed to be my boyfriend, maybe I would’ve seen you at home instead. That way you’re not missing me all day.”

Speechless, his jaw drops at your intrepid response, unable to formulate a proper answer to that. 

“Well… gimme a second and I’ll be back, yeah? I’m gonna give this coffee to Joonie for covering my shift for me.”

Watching you walk away confuses him even more. Did he like you? Why was he so… worried just a second ago? He feels the heat creeping up, lingering around his neck and his face is probably flushed pink by now. Settling back into the swivel chair that’s technically yours (you’ve claimed it for yourself and it’s off limits to everyone), he’s perturbed. Taehyung was definitely sure that he wasn’t into you, especially since you seemed standoffish, but since your unforeseeable confession, and nontraditional at that, it’s like… you sparked something in him, as if you’re… inspiration?

“Hey.” You’re back, and Taehyung hasn’t even fully regained himself yet. “So uh, how’s your painting going?”

“My painting?” Right. He realizes that he briefly mentioned it on the last shift you were on together. “Uh, it’s alright. Struggling a bit since my brushes are getting old so they’re not in the best shape to create a masterpiece. But that’s where everyone starts off, right? Not with the best tools but their works still look great. I just wish it was… perfect…” Taehyung carries on into a tangent, talking about his favorite painters and what he wants to go for plus that stupid brush set that’s unreasonably priced, and somehow after twenty minutes later, he stops when the clock strikes 1:00AM.

But you stayed. You listened quietly, intrigued by his findings and stories, his dreams and aspirations, nodding along without much comment. 

Maybe when you’re not munching on potato chips, you’re slightly bearable. After all, you even got him a cup of coffee to make it through the night.

“Do you like blueberries?”

“What?”

It’s three in the morning and there’s only two hours left before your shifts are over, so when you ask such a random question like that, Taehyung thinks you’ve lost your mind. 

“Blueberries,” you reiterate, tearing off the head of your orange sour patch kid. “Like… the fruit or whatever. It’s blue, tiny, round like a little ball. Sometimes sour, sometimes sweet, depending when they’re picked. Blueberry harvests are around April to late September—”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I know what blueberries are. Why are you asking me this?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I remember seeing you hanging around at the quad about a year ago. Saw you carrying a ziplock bag with blueberries like some kindergartener eating snacks his mom packed for him. You don’t eat them anymore.”

“You knew me then?”

“Eh.” Your legs are resting on the receptionist desk, despite Taehyung repeatedly telling you to not do that. “I may have noticed you then. Jungkook liked to talk about you a lot and we hung out sometimes. But you don’t eat blueberries anymore. Did you get tired of them?”

“I’m surprised you knew about me before the library,” he admits, pushing the empty cart into the backroom. “But sort of. They started tasting bitter to me after a while, sometimes too sour. I could never find any that were sweet.”

“Why didn’t you just… bake them?”

“What?” He says this a lot when he’s with you because you never fail to surprise him. “I don’t get it.”

Dropping your feet onto the floor, you brush your hands off to the side and crystals from the candy fall onto the ground. He mentally groans at this because it’s just attracting more ants, but you disregard his constant complaints anyway so he remains silent. “Bake with the sour blueberries. Eat the sweet ones. Why just stop eating them completely when you could just… bake them? You like them, don’t you? So just find an alternative way to prepare them.”

You make a pretty good point. In fact, the next time you work with Taehyung, you bake him a blueberry crumb cake. 

He stares at the little baggy in your hand, bemused. “What… what’s that?”

“Okay, hear me out. It’s not pretty, so to speak, but it’s really good. I’m still trying to work out the recipe so that it keeps the same taste and sweetness but it’s so hard to make it… solid? It’s a blueberry crumb cake. But too crumbly. Not efficient to eat.”

Taehyung observes the bag of the broken treat. Before he even opens it, he notices something familiar that peeks out of your backpack, something that someone like you would never be in possession of. “Wait. What’s that?”

“What’s what—oh,” puffing your cheeks, you sluggishly reach into your pouch, then handing the mysterious item to Taehyung. It’s the brush set. Encased in a wooden box, he doesn’t even need to question if this is it because the logo that’s engraved in the bottom right corner says it all. “Here. It was supposed to be a surprise, but oh well. I got you that brush kit you were talking about—the whole set or whatever. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be restricted in what you create because you don’t have the resources to create.”

Taehyung doesn’t like blueberries. But Taehyung doesn’t like you either. You’re sour like the blueberries, just as he’d been when he lost her, but you’ve… somehow become sweet like honey, like this blueberry crumb cake. Sweet like blueberries get when you pick them at the right time. 

“You didn’t have to get me this. You realize how expensive it is, right?”

You shrug. “I mean, yeah, I know how much it costs. I was the one who swiped their card, right? But… you deserve it, Taehyung, for all the work you’ve done. I’ve spent hours here, and I made some extra cash helping Namjoon out with his shifts a couple times. Don’t worry about it.”

Before he dives into the dessert and into his new toy, a sudden wash of confidence hits him, and the very thing he didn’t expect himself to do, he actually does. He learned a couple things from you, one of them being bold, and he’s finally able to put it to use. “Let’s… I want to take you up on the offer.”

“What offer?” Your face contorts into a perplexed one.

“Let’s go out on a date.”

You’ve briefly brought up your interest in “dry age steak” before, and Taehyung doesn’t quite get it, but it's his mission to find a restaurant that serves it.

Taehyung has a feeling that you’ll like the menu. You eat pretty much everything, inhaling in food like a vacuum but the way you talk about how chefs prepare this “dry age steak” that you’re obsessed with, kind of gives it away that you might bask in the flavors to truly appreciate the work behind it instead of engulfing it in one go. You’re strange. But amusing.

“W-Wow, who are you even?” Other than food, you’ve managed to suction the air from his lungs. He’s breathless, enamored by the way you look tonight, never expecting that you’d put this much effort. 

“Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” With a little twirl and a soft smile, Taehyung chokes on his saliva at your unpredictable shift in personality. Skirts didn’t seem like your thing, but you really knew how to make something so simple look so good. “Something off?”

“You just look different,” he blurts, speaking his mind without hesitation before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, a good kind of different, don’t think of it the wrong way.” Taehyung winces, slightly fearing that he’ll be met with the impact of your hand, instead, he’s met with that melodic laugh. 

“So, where are you taking me?”

It’s a nicer restaurant than you thought it’d be, mainly because Taehyung hasn’t made it clear if he had any feelings for you to even go to this extent. The lights are dimmed, candles are lit, and all the waiters and waitresses are in vests and blazers—and you can confidently say that this isn't seen often on your previous dates. The tables are draped with white cloths, silverware out by the plates with clear glasses for wine with a view out the window of the city lights.

Your hypothesis is right, Taehyung has to admit. You would be a better girlfriend, and after barely ten minutes of conversation over a basket of the complimentary bread and butter, he’s already determined that he might have a teensy weensy crush on you.

The bread cracks when you pierce your thumb through it, in an attempt to open and smear the insides with the little square of butter, and Taehyung suddenly doesn’t mind the sound. Then you do something he least expects—you’re handing it over to him. 

He furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“For you, obviously. Take it first.”

Did you just give Taehyung your food first? Before yourself? The person who wouldn’t even share her bag of sour patch kids because they were ‘too good to give to other people?’ It’s a change of pace, and Taehyung isn’t sure what to do with this newfound information. But… admittedly so, he’s enjoying this.

Just then, a notification goes off on his phone.

Her.

She’s got a flat tire in the middle of the highway, and her frantic texts allude to the fact that she can’t get ahold of Yoongi, so the first person that comes to mind is Taehyung. And if Taehyung was being truthful to himself, he’d confess that the lingering feelings he had for her was fogging up his vision from his new ones for you, because he drops his linen napkin on his plate abruptly in the midst of standing up from his seat.

“Heading to the bathroom?” You ask, taking a sip of your iced water.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I gotta go. She’s got a flat tire.”

You pause, cup near your face but never reaching your lips again. “What? Doesn’t she have a boyfriend to do that? Or… I don’t know, AAA? Insurance?”

“She texted me. I should be there.” He shuffles on his coat that hangs on the back of his chair, sifting through his pockets for his car keys. “You should stay. Enjoy dinner—maybe even pack mine to-go so you can have it later. I’ll pay for the meal on the way out.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologizes delicately, as if he doesn’t have any options. “I’ll even get you dessert.” You don’t respond. “She needs my help.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, whatever.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Taehyung.” Your voice isn’t soft like it has been recently, only stern and firm, gaze still never meeting with his. “You’ve made your decision. You should go.”

Taehyung says your name, tone full of penitent but you weren’t having any of it. “I said, go. You’ll keep her waiting.”

When Taehyung arrives where she is stranded, he feels awful. Absolutely awful. Not even just because he ditched you in the middle of a date, but because Yoongi is there, already on his knees with the car on the jack, loosening the bolts of the tire. 

“Oh, Tae, you’re here!” She exclaims, and the always grumpy Yoongi does a little wave in Taehyung’s direction. “Wow, and you look great! Was I interrupting something?”

Yes. “No, hah, I just… was at an event and you saved me from it.” It’s a lie that slips through his gritted teeth because he was truly enjoying the date with you until she messaged him. “See you got here on time, Yoongi.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, popping off the tire in the process. “But she’s fine, at least. I didn’t get a chance to text her back immediately when she told me because I was rushing over here so fast. Remind me to teach her how to change into a spare tire, will you? Feels like she’s spoiled for us both coming to the rescue—” He doesn’t even get to finish when she slaps his shoulder.

“Well, sorry, Tae, for rushing you here. I appreciate you coming, though! It means a lot, knowing a friend would come save me when I needed them.”

Taehyung used to think that Yoongi stole the girl that he was in love with and didn’t deserve her. 

He’s starting to believe that Yoongi does deserve her, and it’s you that Taehyung doesn’t deserve.

You don’t answer his texts nor his calls, and he speculates that he hasn’t angered you enough to warrant blocking his number. Yet, you don’t show up to your night shift on Monday either, and Namjoon isn’t sure why you asked to switch shifts when Taehyung queries. Instead, Taehyung spots you while he’s clocking out in the morning, torn between feeling frustrated that you return his calls or sorry for cutting the date off short.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks the moment you step into the library. 

Blinking blankly at the boy, you toss another potato chip into your mouth from the bag in your other hand. “Uh, no… I’m standing right here in front of you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you never responded to my texts or calls.”

You hum disparagingly, hurling your backpack over the desk. “Come on, Taehyung. Do you really think I want to reach out to you after what happened?”

“But I wanted to tell you how bad—”

“Taehyung, I don’t care.” You interrupt, rounding the counter to plop into your designated chair. “It’s done. It happened, we tried it and I guess I was wrong. I thought I’d be able to prove to you that I’d be a better girlfriend—your girlfriend, but it’s fine. We didn’t click, I got the hint and I’m not gonna push you.” Then, you casually throw your feet onto the table. If Taehyung broke your heart, he can’t tell at all. “Assholes that ditch their dates do that because they’re not interested. Could’ve just said that instead of constantly brushing off the topic, and even agreeing to go on a date with me. Ooo, you stooped low, pretty boy.”

He sighs, fingers carding through his hair. “It’s not that I’m not interested—”

“Did you forget that I said I didn’t care? Now git. I got work to do.”

“You’re just sitting—”

You pull a lollipop from your pocket, waving it in his direction. “Busy. I’m on the clock.”

“Then I’ll come back after,” he states, but you only shrug in return.

“Whaaaaatever.”

Taehyung actually keeps his promise, because eight hours later, he’s standing in front of the receptionist desk where you’re logging in returned books. “Uhhh, yes? How can I help you?”

“I came back to talk.” Eyes wary, his shoulders fall along with the frown upon his face. “I want to tell you that I am interested, and this isn’t a hoax. I genuinely think we’d be good together—that you’d be a great girlfriend for me, but I’m starting to realize that I’d have to be better to be a great boyfriend to you.”

“Cool,” you retort indifferently. “Suit yourself with whatever that is.”

Before Taehyung could say anything else, Jungkook comes in; hair slicked back, tight black tee and ripped, worn-out blue jeans and that stupid smirk on his face. Taehyung loves Jungkook, without a doubt, because he’s nothing but a loyal friend to him. Yet seeing him dressed like this, his trademark “fuck-me” outfit, like he’s going to swing his arm around your shoulder then take you to his car for a quick hook-up only makes Taehyung’s blood boil. 

“Hey, Tae! I didn’t know you had work now.”

“I don’t.” Taehyung clenches his jaw. “Why are you here?”

“Picking up our lovely mutual friend here.” Eugh. Taehyung is tempted to slap that look off Jungkook’s face. “See you later?”

Taehyung has his grip on your shoulder and you glower at him. “Uh, Guk, do you mind starting the car up first? I uh… need to talk to her alone for a bit.”

Jungkook complies, waving goodbye to Taehyung one last time before showcasing those pearly white teeth. Taehyung will not be late again, refusing to lose another girl that he might be into. And if he loses to you Jungkook, it’d be the third girl he loses to one of his friends because he didn’t act smart enough. 

When Jungkook turns, on route to his car, you click your tongue in amusement. “He’s got a cute ass, you gotta admit.”

“You’re kidding, right? The moment we don’t work out, you’re into Jungkook? Are you guys together now?”

“Uh, nope,” you respond, popping the ‘p’ when you pull a lollipop from your mouth. Where’d you get this new one from? “Doesn’t matter anyways. I’ve moved on. I’m over your rejection—although I still believe that you should’ve straightforwardly told me you weren’t into me—but either way, I’m good.”

Appalled by your audacity, he swears the words he wants to say only gets lodged in his throat. 

“Well,” taking in a sharp breath, you pull your lips into a straight line. “I’m out. Good seeing you though, maybe I’ll catch you on our next shift.”

And with that, you’re gone.

Gone into the fucking arms of Jeon Jungkook and Taehyung cannot let history repeat itself.

The contrast between you and her is apparent. For one, you’re not effortlessly altruistic. Some would even go far as to say that you’re selfish, but Taehyung disagrees. He thinks you put yourself first, simply because you might’ve had experiences with being walked over, but that doesn’t mean you’re selfish. You’re not incapable of being considerate, and this shows when Taehyung gets sick and you cover his shift after working sixteen hours, still managing to gather enough energy to get him food afterwards. 

Then, there’s the “girl’s next door” comparison. She’s the textbook definition of it—everyone’s first love, down-to-earth, supportive and approachable. But you’re… not evil enough to be a villain, yet close. There’s no devious plan up your sleeve, no motivation to do damage on anyone mentally or physically—simply just quick-witted and blunt, oftentimes viewed as intimidating from your rough exterior. You judge but you don’t actually judge people for things they’re interested in, only poking fun at the things that people don’t hold as a true insecurity. 

And… that’s why you and him work. He doesn’t need a girl who sugarcoats things for him—he needs someone like you, someone who is honest enough to tell him that he’s acting like an idiot, someone who supports him in his endeavors, and someone who… well, truthfully, he kind of just wants you.

He’s praying he doesn’t make the same mistake with you.

“Why’d you ask me to pick you up?” Jungkook asks, readjusting his hair in the mirror attached to the sunvisor of his car. “I’m surprised you asked me to squeeze you in for a drive before heading out on my date. You’ve mentioned that you hated being my hook-up ride on the day of my—”

“Eugh,” you’re making fake vomiting sounds and Jungkook raises a brow at you. “Please don’t continue that.”

“Least answer my questions, will you?”

You frown, leaning back against the leather seat of Jungkook’s new yet used car. It still has remnants of the smell of cigarettes of the previous owner, and you’re genuinely curious as to why girls find it hot to makeout here. “I wanna go to that sub-shop across town.”

“Uh, why? You only go there when you’re sad. It’s so out of the way—”

Slapping his chest, Jungkook winces while rubbing the ache. “I’m sad, so drive.”

“Why are you sad, lovebug?” Grimacing at the pet name that he gives you, one that doesn’t match you very well, you turn to reach for the seatbelt. “Come on. You can tell me. I won’t judge you.”

“Kim Taehyung agreed to go on a date with me—”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing—”

“—then he ditched me.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “Bro that’s fucked up.”

“Ya think?” You roll your eyes. “So yeah, I wanna eat a yummy banh mi sandwich and go home with a full belly and a nap. Not really in the mood to think about that rejection any further. It would’ve been easier if he just said ‘no’ the first time around.”

But Jungkook doesn’t start the car. He sits there, the space between his eyes with the same amount of wrinkles as the questions running through his head. “Wait, but he wanted to talk to you in there. Taehyung isn’t the type to just… leave in the middle of a date. The guy would stay, even if it’s a bad date, it’s just who he is. Why’d he leave? Did he say why?”

“Mm, her. She texted him, and he dropped everything for her.”

Jungkook puffs his cheeks. “Really? Man, I’m sorry, lovebug. Should I cancel my date and accompany you to your favorite sandwich shop?”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s fine, Guk. Please just drive me? Drop me off and I can take the bus after. I figured he might try coming with me, hence why I texted you. But… it would’ve been nice if he tried to chase me out here… just a bit.”

Jungkook is a loyal friend, Taehyung reiterates in his head when he sees the text that pops up on his lockscreen with the address to a Vietnamese sandwich shop thirty minutes away. There isn’t anything else attached to the message, just the location, and it doesn’t take a genius to get what Jungkook means by it.

Taehyung takes in a deep breath of courage.

He’s sort of a hopeless romantic, and that trait seeps through like a ketchup stain on a white tee, but it hasn’t been as obvious when it came to liking you. You’re certainly not the type of girl who receives affection well, let alone any type of positive reactions, but you’ve plainly accepted him the way he is. 

Flamboyant gestures and amorously decorated words are how he expresses his love to the girl he’s infatuated with, and you continue to validate that you’re not like the past girls he’s fallen for because you’re the one doing the chasing. 

So, needless to say, this is a new territory for Taehyung.

But having the roles reversed back to the one he’s familiar with makes it a bit easier. In fact, you never foresee this specific scenario because when Taehyung enters the little shop along with the ring of the bells above his head, you freeze. 

It’s like the tiles of the floor are soaked in superglue because you can’t move. How did Taehyung find you here? Did you have your location on by accident? You’re supposed to seem like you don’t care. But you really didn’t think he’d find you here.

“Hey,” he starts off softly, rubbing his nape.

“Uhhhh, hi?” Your greeting is saturated in confusion. “What are you doing here? How’d you—“

“Jungkook,” and then a light bulb pops overhead. Explains why he was tilting to the side at a red light earlier. You figured it was because he was sexting, but he was talking to Taehyung. “And… I figured he meant that I should come. Make things up with you.”

Pursing up your lips, you turn back around to the worker at the counter who plays with his phone mindlessly, completely disregarding Taehyung’s confrontation. “‘Scuse me. How much longer?”

The teenage boy looks up. “Uh, give him like 10 minutes.”

You click your tongue before glancing over at Taehyung. “You’ve got 10 minutes.”

Truthfully, Taehyung doesn’t need ten minutes. It’s easy to let him in; he’s got a heart so pure, a love that’s so kind, and beauty that resembles those Greek Gods, except you wouldn’t tell him that. He’s got everything—from friends to love to creativity, and when he’s standing beside you, it’s like physically viewing the definition of polar opposites. But Taehyung makes it easy to love, easy to feel free and comfortable, easy to target him with a joke or insult and just laugh. 

But Taehyung uses those ten minutes up to the last second, even when you’re timing him with your phone. And you let him, leading him on to think that he actually needs those ten minutes when in the end, you’d take him in anyway.

Forget the girl that made him hate blueberries. You’ll convince him to love them again.

“What—oh,” he moans, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Baby, we gotta be quiet, my friends are next door.”

“And?” There's that boldness again. You’ve got your mouth wrapped around his dick, practically sucking the life out of him and he has no control. 

“My e-exes—it’s awkward.”

Pulling away, a string of salvia follows and the sight of you being so calm despite just having his dick stuffed in your mouth has his stomach churning. You’re so hot, and he never knew that your intrepid traits would seep into your sex life but he can’t necessarily say that he’s complaining.

“And?” You reiterate, wiping the side of your mouth with the back of your hand. “They’re always fucking next door. Why can’t we? Show them what they’re missing out on.”

Taehyung’s cheeks are flushing pink. 

You were definitely not like any of the other girls he’s been with.

Straddling his waist, Taehyung’s heart races. The door is unlocked, both of his roommates are home with their girlfriends, and he can guarantee that the walls are pretty thin here. He definitely has heard Jimin jerking off one too many times.

But, you can’t even seem to gather enough fucks to care.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he misses when you line yourself above his cock, sinking your heat down and enveloping him because his breath gets stuck in his throat and his hands find purchase on your hips with a squeeze. “Oh fuck,” he groans, gasping for air. 

“Oh, by the way. I’m quitting my job at the library.”

Taehyung’s head jolts up. “What?” Seriously? In the middle of sex? You truly never fail to surprise him.

“Mm,” you hum softly, palms pressed against the hardness of his pecs, gyrating your hips but Taehyung holds you down flush with him, brows furrowed. “Yeah, I quit. Why’d you stop me?”

“You can’t just blurt out important news while we’re having sex! Why’d you quit?”

Attempting to force yourself out of his grip, you groan when he overpowers you. Although your personality is far more dominant than his, you admit sadly that his strength is far more superior to yours. “Fine. I just don’t wanna work with my boyfriend, alright? It’s weird.”

Taehyung scoffs. “And why’s that?”

“Because… I don’t wanna be one of those couples.” Rolling his eyes, he suddenly flips the two of you, hovering over your body with his arms on either side of your head. You swallow, because truthfully, Taehyung seems like the one who makes the first move with his last relationships, but with you, it’s always been the opposite. 

He’s strangely bolder today.

“Well, I wanna be one of those couples.”

“It’s sappy. Like some romcom. We started dating after working late nights at the library.”

He leans down to peck your nose gently. “And? I like that. I like how romantic we are, I like how different we are, and that we met in that way. Don’t disregard what made us, us.” You mimic a vomit and Taehyung kisses your forehead gently. “So… don’t quit.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Taehyung quirks a brow in response, pulling his hips back and slamming it back into you again. Letting a soft whimper escape your lips, you instantaneously cover your mouth with a hand, startled by your own reaction. He seems to be enjoying it, so he reiterates the motion. “Deep, baby? Come on, you can have more if you say you won’t quit.”

“It’s corny,” you mutter against your skin, and although your pout is hidden, he can still make it out. “I’m too cool—”

He thrusts harshly into you again. “—fuck, okay, okay.” 

Taehyung grins in success.

Maybe blueberries weren’t so sour afterall. You’ve made them sweet again.

[sutexii]

HEEHEE finally got this chunky post together :^)

My angels I care them so bad

@drtenebres for more !

SAKURA

Haunted her family dojo for a long time in isolation, now abandoned by the living and left to overgrown ruin. She normally protects it from trespassers, but when Aoi shows up one day she let’s her hang around for the company. She still does her usual training, tho it’s more for the comforting routine than anything else. Over time, she starts finding the motivation to fix the grounds up a bit, finding that she still wants to use her knowledge to teach and help others become strong. Her dream is to help someone take her old title as strongest person alive.

She’s a bit standoffish and intimidating to newly met people, more out of awkwardness than malice due to her years of self isolated training. But after so much time spent with a hypersocial fish wife, she’s mostly gotten over that and has a much warmer, comforting social presence (except for with Hiro, but she’s mostly just playing it up bc she likes how easy he is to scare)

While on the search for a young Maki, Aoi came back with a lost kid that she thought was her, but sadly was not. This kid had no other family, so Aoi and Sakura took her in as their own, naming her Tenko.

Sakura became her daughter's mentor, and ended up being the one to keep her out of trouble and channel her chaotic energy with martial arts while Aoi worked on her new bakery business.

AOI

Friendly water elemental that wound up in Sakura’s dojo pond on her travels, and liked it so much she never really went away.

Very social, if she sees folks she’ll come right up and say hello, decide they’re friends and they have very little say in it.

Maintains the large pond on the dojo grounds, filling it with all sorts of fish and aquatic life she finds or rescues, mostly different breeds of carp and amphibians.

Never put much focus on keeping a humanoid form, relying on her loose jacket to do most of the work when that’s necessary. Sakura just carries her in a bucket most of the time anyway, so she never felt the need. However, when Tenko came to them she found herself wanting to do things for her that were difficult with fins, and so she started working on it, eventually doing a pretty passable job..

Realizes hands can also make donuts!! Woah!! So she goes and opens her own bakery, a family business in a quaint village not far from the dojo. It often serves as a hub for their various friends to come pay visits, and they host an occasional holiday there.

[komoreangel]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐜𝐬

pairings: childe, diluc, kaeya, albedo x f!reader (separate)

scenario: it’s reallyyyyy cold outside and you want your boyfriend to warm you up :) and maybe cuddle :) i mean what no its just soooo cold

genre: fluff so much fluff

wordcount: 1.6k (mostly albedo’s djkfsdjfnkd) 

childe

ok so this guy

he’s from snezhnaya which is like russia

its always cold there so he’s used to the below 30 temperatures

you however

ARE NOT

like at all i mean you’re from mondstatd whens the last time it snowed here

so at first he might not notice that you are extremely cold

you two are walking around, being cute yk couple stuff

that is until you start shivering

“why are you shaking? are you scared of something???”

he’s not the brightest but we love him

“childe, im cold.” you bury your face in his chest to hide from the wind

“it’s not that cold out here, i don’t see why you’re being so dramatic.”

“it’s below 30 degrees! i’m going to get frostbite and die!”

ok so maybe you are a bit dramatic but YOU’RE FREEZING OKAY?

“hey ojou-chan, why are you so clingy all of a sudden-” you reached your hand inside his pocket to grab his hand.

holy crap your hands are cold

“hey wait don’t grab my- THAT’S MY SCARF!”

suddenly you were running away from him at top speed, his scarf in your hands

“come back here! what are you - oof-!” he had grabbed onto the edge of the scarf and pulled it back, you along with it.

you fell on top of him and you’re both wrapped in the scarf like every single christmas romance movie

“well now my hair is all full of snow.”

“you deserve it.” “HEY!” 

you get up and walk off to the side, taking his scarf with you

he follows after you, and catches up quite fast considering he’s got them long legs 

oh to be tall

he wraps his arms around you in a hug 

“still feeling cold?” 

“yES!” 

so you two head for home and he promises that he’ll cuddle you all day to keep you warm

which is what you wanted in the first place ;) 

diluc

diluc doesn’t get cold

not because of where he’s from or anything

but because pyro vision 

~natural body heat~ 

and unlike childe he would actually notice you withering away in the snow 

“y/n, are you alright?” 

“huh? yeah yeah im fine just a bit cold” 

suddenly you are being cuddled 

“diluc??” 

“yes?” 

“you’re hugging me?” 

he doesn’t usually initiate pda often so it was a surprise

“you said you were cold. i’m simply warming you up.” 

you lean into his hug and notice that he’s actually really warm

like so warm you get sleepy

you’re so sleepy now that you think about it

and bonk

congrats dear reader

you have fallen asleep in diluc’s arms

he continues to talk on about venti’s drinking problem and how annoying kaeya is

he looks down and notices you sweetly dozing off in his embrace

and he’s so lucky to have you isn’t he

he smiles softly and sweeps you into his arms

carries you bridal style upstairs 

he’s about to tuck you into your bed when your arms begin to tightly wrap around his shoulders

almost like you dont want to let go 

“darling, it’s more comfortable in the bed,” he says quietly

“noo...” your voice is muffled by his chest and you sound tired 

he chuckles lightly 

“just lay down for a bit i’ll be right with you in a minute” 

you’re quiet, like you’re stopping to think

“if i lay down, will you cuddle with me?” 

diluc sighs

“yes i’ll cuddle with you, just please lay down? for me?” 

and who are you to resist that 

so you lay down and while it’s not as warm as him

its still really soft and you fall asleep in no time

he comes back to you sleeping, and not one to break his promises, he cuddles with you anyway 

at least you’re warm now 

kaeya 

believe it or not, kaeya actually does get cold

i mean yeah he has a cryo vision, but that just means he isn’t affected by his own abilities 

or at least thats my headcanon 

anyways

if you’re shivering...he will not help you at first

no, first he’ll tease you about it

like imagine you guys have a mission in dragonspine

“oh y/n~ did you fall for me so hard you got frostbite?”

“you’re looking mighty chilled over there, need a hand?” 

you are this close to punching his arm

however because you want him to hug you and warm you up, you are going to stay on his good side 

he might prolong the teasing for a while

and after that while, he may or may not let you hug him

if he goes on for a bit too long however, he’d feel bad 

you aren’t laughing at his jokes anymore because you’re so cold

you just want to stop and sleep 

your steps become slower and slower

your vision is getting blurrier by the second

and after a while you just stop moving

kaeya turns to look back at you bc he notices

“y/n?” 

and then in a total cliche moment you collapse out of pure exhaustion

like the gentleman he is, he catches you before you land face-first in the snow

and in his mind hes like shit i let this go on too long

so he carries you around, looking for a cave you can rest in until you’re feeling better 

after maybe five minutes of searching he finds one

and he knows albedo is up here somewhere but he doesn’t want to risk you being in the snow for too long

he starts a fire and tries to lay you down near it, but you aren’t getting any warmer

so he puts you in his arms and just cuddles you 

the combination of body heat + fire is slowly warming you up 

and in about an hour you’re awake again

but you can’t move, because his grip on you is very tight

“kaeya? where are we?” 

he slowly opens his eyes 

“oh, just a random cave in dragonspine” he laughs a bit as he says it

then ofc he remembers you’ve just woken up from collapsing and is like oh right serious time ok

“are you okay?” he asks and this time he has a hint of concern in his voice

“yeah, i’m fine. i’m warm now too” you say as the fire starts to die down a bit

kaeya moves his arm in front of you to shift the firewood a bit 

“i’m sorry for letting you get that cold” he murmurs 

you adjust your position so you’re facing his chest 

“it’s alright, at least i can finally get some cuddles this way” 

you both continue to rest by the fire and decide you’ll head back to mondstatd in the morning

albedo

because albedo is rather observant of most things

he notices your state right away

he immediately stops whatever he is doing and tends to you

“you’re cold, aren’t you?” he sits you on the table and feels your forehead

“albedo, its not a fever” you laugh. 

“no, if it was a fever you’d be burning up” he says matter-of-factly 

he walks to the other side of the lab and grabs his coat

“here, put this on.” 

you wrap the coat around yourself and start to get off the table

he rushes back and grabs your hands

they’re cold (duh) 

so then he thinks what can he do to make your hands warm

usually some mittens would do the trick

but he doesnt have any except for his own

well 

he’ll do what he has to

anything for you 

so he slides his gloves off and offers them to you

“put these on, your hands are probably freezing” 

when you hesitate (because arent his hands cold now? you dont want him to be cold) he takes the initative and takes your hands to put the gloves on

he stands back and says “there. tell me if you get colder, okay?”

and tries to hide his flustered face because

you look so cute in his gloves!!! 

they’re his gloves and you’re wearing them ! 

he turns back to his work for a bit 

after maybe half an hour he looks back 

and you aren’t sitting on the table anymore?? 

he looks around

you aren’t anywhere?? 

thats not good

not good at all

he makes his way outside and doesn’t see you there either 

“y/n?” he calls out into the snow 

unknowingly to him, you had headed out about ten minutes after he turned around 

you went to go search for some starsilver, as you heard him muttering about it under his breath 

you were happily heading back to the lab, arms full of the stuff, when you heard someone shout in surprise

it sounded like albedo 

something must have happened to one of his experiments

you quickly hurried towards the lab only to find

nothing?? not even the man himself

there were footsteps in the snow leading away from the room, but you couldn’t be sure if it was yours or his

you decide to wait for him to come back, and set the starsilver near his workspace

after a while, he comes back in, looking stressed and worried

“albedo?” he looks up and breathes in relief 

“where were you, i came back and- mMf!” he rushes towards you and wraps you in a tight hug

“please don’t do that again” he says

“i got you some starsilver..”

he breaks the hug and looks back at his desk

“you went to get starsilver...for me?” 

you bury your face in his neck 

“yeah..i heard you muttering about it so i thought you needed some. it was colder out there than i thought, though” 

he pats your back soothingly, rubbing his hand in circles around your shoulder 

“let’s start a fire, that’ll warm us both up” 

a/n: hi! wooh my first headcanon :) sorry if it was a little long, and i know some were a bit angsty and im honestly sorry about that! albedo’s got away from me sdkhjf but i hope you enjoy! and feel free to request a fic if you’d like :)