#And apologies in advance if I don’t respond to things in a timely manner or see posts intended for me!!!

[babacontainsmultitudes]

(Person who fucked around for the past 3 months): Oh we’re really finding out now boys

[billythesimp]

Uhmmm... Billy and Lycaon with a Therian!reader who always nonchalantly (trying to be) fixes their hair/clothes!! I honestly think that's something cute and intimate between Therians and it's low-key a confession from reader

I cackled at the thought of a Thiren grooming and fixing up Billy. My man would both love and hate it.

Neat and Tidy

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I will apologize in advance if Von's part is longer then Billy's. After all, they are just headcanons but also I figured that Billy wouldn't know how to respond to such a thing as he's an android while Von himself is a thiren.

Also it is thiren or therian? I can never tell and I've seen both.

Billy / Lycaon x Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none

✦ With Billy, he only gets mildly annoyed when they are combing back his hair and closing up his jacket at times because of the ‘wind’. Though he does like that they are thinking about his appearance from time to time. He is a pretty good looking mech, he takes pride in his looks from time to time so if he found out his hair was unkempt and a bit messy, he would want someone to tell him for sure. But they were starting to become overbearing in his eyes that he would pout and whine whenever they would start tending to him in public.

✦ He jumps at their touch everytime, muttering quietly that they don’t always have to be babying him from time to time and that it’s a choice, but they don’t listen at times and don’t stop until he is presting and clean. Eventually he just brushed it off as a quirk of theirs despite the fact that no one else in their team got this similar treatment. It’s not until Nekomata told him something rather odd that made him rethink everything he’d known about them. At first he didn’t understand, what did she mean by how he was so lucky that he had someone who cared so much about him to groom him often?

✦ She thought he was joking at first, but it clicked that he was just dumb and really hadn’t noticed, so she held back on telling him so he would ask them himself. He can’t help but wonder what Neko meant by that, cue the therian mentioned before coming over and tsking at Billy before scolding him about his jackets collar and keeping his cuffs even. The more they go on, he can’t help but put two and two together and start to overheat from how cute they were being all this time.

✦ Since Lycaon was a thiren himself, he knows the mannerisms of his fellow kind. They vary depending on the species but they all fit under some umbrella of shared habits. That being said, he always gets a little flustered when they come up to him and mention that his red tissue is uneven in his pocket, reaching out to fixed it along with any little thing they can get their hands on. While he could have done it himself, a small part of him loves the thought of being doted on, and so lets them do as they please before thanking them. 

✦ They do this often, helping him fix himself up before making appearances or after a job well done, having rough housed a little leaving him a little messy. And Von isn’t one to own another being, so he returns the favor by smoothing out their skirts and shirts, finding an excuse to fix their cuffs to linger his hands over theirs. The way they grow flushed and thank him which only leaves him with a hint of excitement. If he could, he would take them into his office to properly groom them but he thinks that that would be too far. Move at your pace, he thinks, though if they offer to help fluff up his tail he wouldn’t refuse. 

✦ Of course, it isn’t unusual for either of them to fix up the other girls when needed. They are often thought of as the parent figures of Victorian Housekeeping, so seeing them get along well with their little preening sessions and cute moments of fixing each other's clothing. It leaves little to the imagination as Corwin and Ellen have at least spoken about when they would come out and announce that they’re dating. And while Lycaon spends more time with them and hears about this, he can’t deny his urge to ask them out and properly court them. But he wants to hear it from them first.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for dropping a friendship?

This ask will be long so apologies in advance. I’m currently twenty years old and in my third year of college although this happened last year when I was nineteen. I had met a friend named Fawn through a now ex friend’s boyfriend and after a few months, I decided to introduce him to my friend group because he’s trans and all of my friend group is LGBT in some manner. Fawn had originally been super friendly and supportive whenever we’d talk until a few months in when he ended up running away from home. I absolutely understand why he did it and completely support him to this day because of how his parents were/are. The entire friend group would try to help him with various things such as getting ID for a job or giving him rides that totaled 3 hours round trip just so he could hang out in person with us because he was obviously dealing with really bad depression. I made sure to put in as much effort as I could for helping him with whatever I could but after months, I was genuinely overwhelmed and drained talking to him. He would talk over other people venting in our discord server and it would be genuinely extremely triggering messages that wouldn’t get censored or warnings. Anytime he would try to talk to me, it was about his suicidal thoughts and I’d mention I can’t handle that right now because I also have awful mental health so he wouldn’t text me again until a month or so went by. I started dreading getting a text from him because it was always a vent about him and I later found out he would do the same with half of our friend group while the other half had completely normal conversations with no mention of his vent at all. Months into this, he tried texting me during an anime convention where I was with some of our friends and I ignored it before finally asking one of our friends (who I know is a really sweet person), “hey does Fawn do this with you? Because I’m starting to get really tired of being his friend.” To which they responded something about how he doesn’t and also that I really need to have better boundaries because he shouldn’t be doing that which I was like “huh! Yeah you’re right.” After that conversation and other previous ones with different friends, I finally texted him back a long message explaining why I didn’t feel comfortable being his friend anymore and our relationship was rather one sided. He ended up sending four screenshots worth of messages back that I partly read and decided to stop because I was getting upset in the moment after he said that I “of all people” should understand his trauma because I was kicked out of my parents house at 16 and had to move across the country to live with my older sister which personally I don’t feel is the same as leaving at 19 but I didn’t argue with him. I showed the messages to some friends to ask if I had said anything wrong because I’m autistic and genuinely struggle with tone sometimes especially when typing. Our friends all agreed with me but I still wonder if I should have been more understanding of him because of what he was dealing with at the time.

What are these acronyms?

[imjustabeanie]

Matchup trade for @petitelepus

Your demon slayer human match is....Tengen!

Despite some minor mishaps that I shall explain later, I think Tengen would be your best match among humans.

You and Tengen were at first mission partners. At first he didn’t think he’d form much of a friendship with someone as kind and polite as you but love works in mysterious ways. Your spontaneous side is definitely what got to him. Plus, he saw how you gradually started to care for him and how worried you were when he did something reckless. It made him feel all warm so he started to include you in more things. Tengen likes shopping with you to be honest. He realized he fell for you cuz he started thinking about you more often. He started to keep track on sales and got involved in your wardrobe so you’d match with him. Then he complimented you more often and felt the need to show off. That’s when Tengen realized he fell and fell hard. He didn’t just care about you like his wives that he gradually grew to love, he loved you first. After asking for their permission and seeing how you responded to his advances, Tengen finally asked you out in a rather dramatic manner. Don’t get fooled he cried when you accepted.

Tengen love language is a mess. He likes gift giving and quality time with you. He just wants to spoil you and make you feel loved so that one day you two may marry. But once he realizes you like compliments, it’s over for you lol. He’ll do it all the time, heck he even lacks words sometimes. When people comment on that, Tengen proudly boast about it. He’s a very confident and proud person who doesn’t hesitate to be honest and raw with his feelings. But Tengen can be stuck in his own words so you need to be pretty direct with him when you have a problem or he won’t notice. Fortunately, once you explain how you need time cuz it’s your first time he’ll slow down and ask his wives for advices. He doesn’t want to come off too strong and scare you away after all. Tengen will never get raise his voice or start an argument with you. It’s just not him and if anyone does that with you they’ll have to answer to him. Despite how he is, Tengen can’t be criticized to be a bad lover.

Tengen wants you to be more confident. If there’s one thing he wants you to stop is how much you apologize. While he finds it beautiful that you have it in you to actually apologize when you’re in the wrong, he doesn’t want people to think they can walk all over you! Don’t think he’s mad at you he just wants what’s best for you.

Tengen loves how caring you are. You’d never annoy him with that cuz he loves being spoiled! You two always spoil each other to the point onlookers can get jealous. He encourages you to be a housewife (cuz you’ll be safer) and frankly works with you to build a dream house for you with all the equipment you may need. Ask and he’ll provide that’s his motto. Your food is something he always looks out for and he always wants sweets from you. He even got burned once cuz he tried to eat too early. Tengen spends all of his time after missions with you for all those reasons. Plus you always give him the best massages so how can he leave? You’re definitely his favorite. He also likes watching/reading with you despite his complains that it’s cliché he’ll be more into the shows than you!

At first, Tengen would be rather physical but as I said you have to set boundaries with him first. Once you do that you’ll notice you’re the only one initiating contact or he’ll only become touchy when you give him the go. It’s only after you’re fully comfortable with him that he goes back to his usual self. Now for all bedroom activities…he has many wives, nothing can surprise him and he probably likes reading em with you. Tengen is good in many fields…

Your KnY demon match is....Akaza!

Akaza was the first one that came to my mind before Tengen. If it was a general matchup I would’ve given you Akaza that’s how sure I am. Yes he’s awkward and hung up but he’s also the only green flag in all demons so cut him some slack.

In this scenario, you met him while he seeked shelter from the sun. Your house was the only one available and he was rather hungry. Akaza is a gentleman (as much as he can) so of course he tried to scare you away, afraid that he’d break his oath. To his surprise, you stayed and apologized to which he was like The fuck??? When night came he ran away as fast as he could. But you noticed a shadow following you some nights. As if you had a secret protector. It started off like this and with some coercing, Akaza agreed to seek shelter in your house more often. It was rather awkward at first but he liked it. It sparked some memories long forgotten. Actually, this nostalgia is what made him want to court you. While you weren’t like the person in his memories, the feeling was the same. And a voice in his head (not muzan) kept egging him to ask you out and not live with regret once again. This is why Akaza asked you out after getting rid of some demon that tried to break into your house.

Akaza love language is…peculiar. It’s acts of service and with time you can add words of affirmation. He knows he’s not perfect so he tries to do what he does best for you, fight. He’ll protect you and wants to teach you some self-defense (he won’t spar with you). Yeah very nice guard dog privileges while I got the smug cat. Akaza will also try to turn you into a demon until you agree or he realizes how messed up his situation is. The relationship is rocky at first cuz it’s a new territory for both of you. Akaza can come off as rude, insensitive and condescending. Heck he’ll react badly to being spoiled at first and will often scold you for apologizing all the time (with time he’ll stop that and instead get angry at the person you’re apologizing to). He doesn’t have a short temper (he deals with douma) he’s just in dire need of a therapist. With time and love from you, Akaza will heal to become a much more loving person and that’s what we’ll focus on. Cuz he is patient with you, that’s why he wants to learn how to love.

Akaza doesn’t understand your impulsive behavior, heck it even worries him cuz he can’t predict it but he’ll take some habbits from you. Like keeping track of sales and getting em for you in advance. He’ll also become more relaxed and thus prone to more teasing from Douma (I’d help Akaza out but he’s distracting the psycho). He knows his job (?) is very dangerous and he really doesn’t want you to worry that much (he can even mistake it as you thinking he is weak) but Muzan is a bitch. That’s why he fights more carefully and always gets you flowers he’d think you’d like on his way back. He’ll grow to like being spoiled like a cat. At first he’ll run then he’ll seek it out. Especially massages, Akaza adores them but can be too prideful to ask for them. Instead he’ll just lay down and give you a pout or complain in a rough voice about his day. Akaza would never start an argument with you. Instead, when he gets worked up he’ll go for a short walk nearby and then come back to calmly discuss the situation. He will apologize and say he’s not angry at you, he just can’t trust his demon side.

Akaza isn’t that big on physical touch unless you initiate it. The day he starts hugging you from behind and spooning you is the equivalent of him saying he’s ready for marriage. He gets very flustered concerning intimacy so yeah I don’t know how you’ll do it with him lmao. He’s just so scared of hurting you during the act…Akaza also probably can’t read if we consider his real backstory. Perhaps Muzan somehow got it into his brain but unless it’s action he won’t really watch with you. Unless it’s a shonen of course. He likes that you enjoy horror movies cuz it means there’s a low chance you’ll get grossed out by him when he enthusiastically explains his battles. Akaza will also enjoy all the food you make even if he’s a demon and they don’t bring any nutritive value. He knows it’s your way of showing love so he’ll happily eat them. His way of spoiling you is basically helping all your dreams come true. Just like you want to be a loving housewife, he wants to make it possible. That’s why Akaza will probably build your dream house himself. Even if some things need money I’m sure Muzan can pay to keep his upper moons happy. Especially if you also become a demon like Akaza. But Akaza can go into dark territory with the influence of the upper moons and even Muzan..let’s just say your safety is his priority. Even if some doors have to be locked shut.

Oh wow I got lost here lol. Anyways Akaza is definitely a loving and dotting boyfriend/husband who shares the same dreams as you. Just get past his trauma.

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.

[crazyztrain]

Mystogan x Reader (Fairy Tail) Chapter 6

3rd POV

Y/N kept chatting with Mio seeing as how it distracted her.

"It seems to be a bad virus, probably transmitted through direct contact. Did you hurt yourself before you got sick?", she looked between Mio and her parents.

"She did cut herself on a broken pipe in the backyard. We really should have removed that rusty thing," the mother snivelled. 

Y/N checked the wound on Mio's leg and confirmed that it is not inflamed, proving her theory that a virus was probably transmitted through the wound instead.

"It is a bit worrisome that her condition has already come this far. I'm afraid of a possible sepsis if we don't start with treatment soon. I also don't believe just medicine will cut it at this point", Y/N explained her findings. 

"But will she recover?", the father demanded to know as she stroked his daughters hair gently. 

"That is my opinion, yes. There is something I can do. It's advanced treatment that should help Mio recover within the week. But I'll understand if you want to stick with more conservative treatment methods." The couple exchanged glances before asking Y/N to elaborate.

The whole time Mystogan was amazed at his fellow mage. Not only did she conduct herself professionally, she also did it in the most friendly and caring manner. Mio seemed rather shy and scared in the beginning, as any child would. But with each of Y/N's words and smiles, the girl relaxed and trusted her. Y/N explained the option of a prepped blood transfusion. For this she would take a small amount of Mio's blood, filter the affected cells out and replicate the healthy cells that already contain the properties and attributes to clear out her whole system once injected back into Mio.  Y/N gave them some time to think about it while she and Mystogan waited outside the lounge. "You're really incredible," Mystogan proclaimed as a matter of fact.

"I suppose this is one of te few positive uses of blood sorcery", she admitted quietly. 

"Not only that, but the way you offered your help without a second thought. Even after that doctor was so rude to you, the only thing on your mind was saving the child", Mystogan crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

Before Y/N could respond, the door opened to reveal the restaurant owners. "Please treat out daughter. We will pay any amount if it means our Mio will get well again", the man implored.

"My name is Misa and this is my husband Yusei. I apologize for our lack of manners," the mother bowed respectfully. 

"It's okay, I know you have other things on your mind. I'm Y/N and this is Mystogan", at this the blue-haired man behin her gave a small nod, "I don't require any payment, but is there any room I could use to prepare the infusion?"

The couple was so grateful, they immediately started to clear out the office on the first floor. Y/N informed that she would get some medical equipment from her room at the inn and then come back to draw Mio's blood.  Mystogan waited at the restaurant and helped Y/N set up her equipment once she returned. 

"Thank you for going along with this," she uttered as she took syringes and vial out of her small suitcase.  Mystogan took the items to place them on the desk.

"It's for a good cause and we don't have any more plans for today anyways." A smile graced Y/N's lips. Even if her new partner didn't speak much, there was no doubt that he is an extremely patient and considerate man. After desinfecting all equipment Y/N went back to the lounge. 

"Alright, I'll have to draw some of your blood. Just the tiniest bit, you won't even notice", she reassured the girl.  "And then I won't be sick anymore?", Mio had a hopeful, if tired, look on her face.  "Of course! You'll be full of energy in no time," the mage smiles as she patted the girl's head.  "All the other doctors said they couldn't help. Are you a fairy?", the child asked with wide eyes.

At this, the blue-haired mage cracked up, "In a way, she is." This earned him a mock glare from Y/N. However, Y/N was glad to have Mystogan with her. He did a splendid job at distracting Mio while she drew some blood. It surprised her to see Mystogan being so good with children. Little Mio was not scared of him, despite the fact that a tall masked man could very well strike children as scary. 

Afterwards Y/N locked herself in the office and Mystogan respected her wish to prep the infusion by herself.  Using her magic in front of others has always been a touchy subject. She could never shake off the feeling that blood sorcery is just so obscene, not to mention that it borders on dark magic depending on how it is used. The young woman would hate to show this kind of side to Mystogan. 

By the time Y/N was finished and gave Mio the infusion it was evening.  "Mystogan, was it? Although your girlfriend said she won't accept our money, please let us offer you dinner," Misa approached Mystogan who was waiting in the hall.

"O-Oh, she's not my girlfriend", he stuttered nervously, "But I'll speak to Y/N. Actually it would be of great help to us since we had not even thought about dinner yet." The middle aged woman seemed surprised, "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, it just seemed like-"

"Misa-san?" We are done," Y/N's voice rang behind the door. The raven-haired woman gave Mystogan an apologetic smile before entering the lounge. The masked mage was not sure whether he wanted the woman to finish her sentence or not. Y/N gave detailed instructions to the restaurant owners on how to proceed with the treatment. She also let them know that she would stop by for a check-up in a few days. The two Fairy Tail mages gratefully accepted the free dinner before they left for the inn.

"Thanks again for today", Y/N expressed softly as they entered their room. 

"It was no trouble. I admire how skillfully and selflessly you treated this child," Mystogan's gaze met hers. They bid each other good night and Y/N disappeared into her adjoining room.

Chapter 7

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?” Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

[honeytae]

I’ll just be your hot new assistant for the day.

hi lovies! i have to apologize in advance because this is kinda sort of a mess lol. like, it started out as one thing and then i added a million more scenes than i needed to. but oh well, it’s super cute. enjoy the fluffiest of fluff with our dearest seokjinnie <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters genre: fluff

word count: 2.3k

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-

“Ugh.” 

Grunting as you withdrew your arm from where you’d had to stretch to silence your blaring alarm, you turned in Seokjin’s hold, the man’s slacked arms easy to manipulate from around your torso.

In your new position, you could see every resting feature in the soft glow of your bedroom; every effortlessly beautiful one.

You had the best view of everything from right here, mere inches from his face. The way his soft eyelashes rested on his cheeks, and oh his cheeks. In their resting position, the apples of his cheeks looked plump and ready for impending smooches, which you were more than willing to give. 

With a small sigh, you shifted your eyes to trace over the center of his face, admiring the natural beauty there as well. It was hard not to look, with the slope of his nose highlighted by a slight shadow from where your curtains were only slightly drawn, the glimpse of sunlight filtering in making his skin glow gold compared with the white pillow his plush cheek smushed up against in his slumber. 

His pretty pink lips were parted only the tiniest bit in a small pout, practically begging to be kissed as quiet puffs of air escaped past them. 

It should be illegal for someone to look so beautiful in the morning. Especially when you had to leave for work within the hour. 

Deciding to cave into your desires, you laid a hand down on the mattress, gently leaning toward his sleeping figure to peck his resting lips with your own. They were just as soft and tempting as they’d looked, not a chapped section of skin to be felt as his velvet lips rested against yours. 

Pulling back slightly, you examined his features, satisfied that he hadn’t stirred from the action and going in for another quick peck. This time, his lips twitched beneath your touch before pushing back in a pursed pucker, the man sleepily responding to your kiss with one of his own. 

You pulled back with a giggle at the change of events, your boyfriend’s eyes squinting back at you as you admired his freshly awoken swollen eyes. 

“Good morning.” He rasped, eyelids falling shut again before he comically pried them open with a swipe of his fingers on the soft skin underneath his eyes. 

“Morning. Sorry I woke you up.” You said, brushing some of his hair down to his scalp as he hummed in response. 

He’d been growing his hair out recently, which you were most definitely a fan of. And perhaps your favorite part of him growing his hair out so much was the wild bed head you were met with each morning. 

“I’m just that tempting, love, hm?” He smiled a bit, the smugness in his tone making you roll your eyes before setting your head on his chest, shaking in a bout of laughter.

“Tempting is maybe the wrong word.” You smirked, the man’s laughter increasing at your fight back on his attempt to tease you. 

Lifting your head from his chest at the sound, your heart seemed to do backflips at the vision of him giggling up on his pillow. The apples of his cheeks that were resting only minutes ago were now lifted into his eyes, tiny little crescents that glittered in the slivers still visible. 

Staring as he sighed, you watched as his features relaxed back into where they naturally sat.

“I can’t complain. I woke up with a beautiful woman on top of me.” He smiled, making you squint with your lips pursed as you tried to hide the effect his words had on you. 

“Charmer.” You shook your head, the motion halting as Seokjin’s hand suddenly cupped your jaw. 

“I’m so lucky to wake up with the most beautiful woman every single day.” He said, his tone more serious as he instilled that fact into you. 

There was no doubt you’d been feeling a bit inadequate lately, in every area more than just one in particular. Seokjin, the doting lover he is, didn’t have to announce that he’d noticed. The look in his eye told you he knew.

“What about when you’re away?” You teased, the man effortlessly brushing off your attempt at deflection from the topic at hand.

“Then I wake up with the most beautiful woman on my mind.” He hushed, laying your head down on his chest again with a gentle force of his palm, lacing his fingers through your hair and soothing your bedhead with a hummed exhale. 

At peace, your eyes began to start closing again, nearly falling back into much-needed sleep as you nuzzled your cheek back into the man’s warm chest. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The second round of blaring was all to be registered as you blearily sat up off of him, both of you groaning at the disruption of the peace and quiet you’d built within the apartment. 

“I guess I need to get up.” You sighed, frowning when you felt Jin’s arms latch around your torso a bit tighter than their loose hold previously. 

“Jinnie, I need to get up.” You said more definitely, turning your face back toward him to emphasize your seriousness. 

At your words, Seokjin tightened his grip around you again, chuckling a bit into your shoulder when you scoffed at him. 

“I’m gonna be late, Jin. And it’s going to be your fault.” You informed him, glancing at the time displayed on your digital clock with a huff. You were cutting it way too close. 

“Blame it on me. Say that you have the most handsome man in the world in your bed right now and can’t afford to leave him for the day.” He mumbled, the narrative making you chuckle with a shake of your head. 

“Can’t do that. There has to be a legitimate reason.” You raised your eyebrows to emphasize your point, the man humming in mock thought as his eyes squinted slightly at you. 

“I thought that was a pretty legitimate reason. How about I just come with you then?” He proposed, a knowing smirk on his face as your eyes squinted back at him, an attempt at analyzing the sense out of what he just said. 

“Come with me? To work?” You cocked your head to the side, the man nodding with another confirming hum as you giggled atop him. 

“You can sneak me in, babe.”

“Don’t you think they’ll notice if you come with me?” You raised your eyebrows in amusement, Seokjin adamantly shaking his head to disagree.

“Nope. I’ll just be your hot new assistant for the day.” 

At that, a loud laugh escaped you in the bedroom, a smile lifting Seokjin’s lips at the sound before he leaned up to nuzzle his nose against your temple, pouting as he rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“Jinnie,” you called for his attention, listening to him hum again to let you know he’d heard you, “can you let me go get ready now?” 

Feeling his arms loosen slightly around your frame, you practically made a run for it, met with a whine as you wriggled out of his slackened hold and sat on the edge of the mattress to boost yourself up from it. 

You ignored his many mumblings as you left him alone in the bed, mumbling a curse of your own as your foot caught on your t-shirt from last night. 

Finally stumbling your way into the bathroom, you rubbed the remaining bleariness out of your eyes, lids still heavy as they were hit with the bright fluorescents in the spacious room. 

After swiping some of your hair back from your face, you made your way toward the shower, desire for warm water rushing down your back growing by the minute. With a haphazard grip on the faucet handle, you adjusted the temperature to just the right one in order to not burn your skin. 

You’d done it one singular time in middle school and, frankly, you’d never recovered.

The feeling of the hot water being splashed onto your face was beyond refreshing, actively waking you up and getting you more mentally prepared for the shift you needed to work during the next several hours.

With only one yawn under your belt, you managed to make it through a six am shower, making sure to get properly woken up before you ventured out of your bathroom to begin the long day ahead. 

Seokjin was sleeping again when you crept back into the bedroom in your towel, sprawled out on his back with his arms bent at the elbows to frame his head. The sight made you believe that he’d unintentionally fallen asleep while waiting up for you, something that was totally unnecessary but absolutely endearing. 

Smiling a bit at the sight, you took a moment to appreciate it before approaching your wardrobe, picking out some appropriate clothing before slipping into some undergarments from your drawer. 

Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of your wet hair soaking into your shirt, you made your way back into the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel to soak up the remaining water from your strands.

Would these early mornings ever get easier for you?

Exhaling as you grabbed your toothbrush, you rinsed the head before carefully squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto the collection of bristles, letting it hover beneath the trickling faucet again before lifting it up to your mouth.

Closing your eyes as you began moving the stick in your mouth, the bristles gliding over each and every tooth as you nearly fell asleep standing up, you missed the way Seokjin rubbed at his eyes as he made his sleepy entrance into the bathroom. 

You missed the way he smiled a bit as he watched you through the reflection, raising his eyebrows in a bit of a teasing manner as you opened your eyes to spit in the sink. Mouth still foaming from the toothpaste, you raised your eyebrows back at him, mumbling a muffled “what?” as he continued staring at you.

“I’m just admiring.” He shrugged, chuckling as you rolled your eyes before dipping your face down close to the sink to spit out the spare toothpaste that had gathered in your mouth. 

Turning back to face the man, you smiled at him, the puffiness from sleep somehow making him cuter. 

“Come here.” You cooed, holding your arms out at your sides for him to step into. 

Shuffling along the tile, Seokjin eagerly followed your prompt, wrapping his limbs around your torso to hold you to him. Placing his forehead on your own, both of you let a content sigh escape your nostrils. 

Puckering his lips out to you, you giggled as you tilted your head to place a pert kiss to his pout. He eagerly chased your lips when you tried to pull away, sliding his fingers into your hair to hold you secure.

The action would have been sweet if your hair hadn’t still been tangled and wet from your shower, the sting of your scalp from the slight pulling of his fingers getting caught in your hair making you wince against his mouth.

“Oh sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” Seokjin apologized, rushing to soothe your head with a rub of his fingers as he pouted in concern at what had happened. Dismissing his apology with a laugh, you shook your head at him, jokingly tutting your tongue at the clumsy action. 

“You okay?” He checked, making you chuckle as you nodded to assure him. 

“Okay. Now, let me help you with this.” He gestured to your mess of tangled hair, reaching over to grab the paddle brush beside the sink before leading you over to the toilet with both hands on your shoulders. 

Letting one hand leave your body, he lowered the toilet lid so that he could sit, pulling you down to sit between the spread ‘V’ of his legs with both palms on your hips.

“Tell me if I pull.” He mumbled, placing a careful hand on the crown of your head before slowly guiding the brush down through your knots. 

Your eyes shut on their own accord as Seokjin soothed the brush through your hair, eliminating the knots with each stroke as his fingers smoothed over each brushed plait. You could tell he was being extra cautious to not tug on another knot, making you thankful that your back was to him so he couldn’t see the adoring grin on your face. 

God, he was so lovable.

He was lovable as he hummed something under his breath behind you, he was lovable when he concentrated so hard on not pulling that he was no longer even speaking, he was lovable when he peppered kisses to the back of your head when he had finished. 

“All done?” You wondered, the man humming again as a confirmation, smiling as you turned your neck to see him. 

Seokjin was slightly more awake now, probably due to the dedication he’d put toward fixing your hair, and the corners of his lips pushed his cheeks up as he smiled at you. 

“Thank you.” You said, leaning back to cup his jaw and direct his lips to yours in an appreciative gesture. 

Going in for another before pulling away, your boyfriend guided you back to a standing position and turned you to face him with a pull of your hand, standing up himself with a squeeze of your appendages. 

“Alright, now you finish up in here, I’ll start breakfast.” He directed, dropping a kiss to your forehead as you began protesting him not going back to bed. 

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allowed you to go to work hungry?” He smirked, knowing he’d won the argument when you remained silent. 

With a content ‘hmph,’ Jin began to exit the room, turning around to shoot you a wink before he disappeared behind the door frame.

The shuffling of his feet down the hall was soon followed by running water and clinks of pans, making you smile at the domesticity of the situation. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

When He Sees Me // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Hey! I've just finished reading all of your Benedict fanfics and it's like, "let me have more!!!" *-* Could you maybe write something where the reader and Ben meet at Mr Granville's house? Where the reader is lower class and mocks him for with his lord manners, and eventually they get along well and all that? And he falls in love with her but she's just a seamstress and is scared he fetishizing her poverty and the "starving artist" lifestyle... Thanks in advance, love your writing xxx - anon.

A/N: Thank you so so much! This is such a sweet message. Thank you for requesting something from me; I can only hope I have done it justice. This is a really long fic, I know that - it really did get away from me. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope you are all well!

Title: Waitress - When He Sees Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and nudity, making out, amorous activities,  light voyeurism (very light), class divides, pining, mutual pining, fluff, light angst, humour, Bridgerton family feels. HAPPY ENDING.

Word count: 6.8k (this is so long, I am so sorry)

“Bridgerton!” Henry Granville calls, a large smile spreading across his face as he spies Benedict by the front door. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Here I am,” Benedict laughs, spreading his arms wide in evidence.

Granville chuckles, grabbing a glass from a nearby tray and handing it to Benedict who takes a healthy sip immediately. “Come,” Granville gestures, “Let me show you around.”

Benedict follows the man he already classes as a friend. He hums at the appropriate time, eyes dancing around every room he is taken into, taking in the numerous pieces of art and the growing number of people.

Finally, Granville leads him to a room bathed in studious silence. Five people stand in the room; four stand behind easels – the picture of concentration as brushes scratching on canvas is the only sound in the room. The fifth person stands proudly before the back wall; posing elegantly, a lady stands completely naked save for an apple held delicately in the palm of her hand.

“This is Ariadne, our life model for tonight,” Granville introduces, smiling at the model without an ounce of care that she stands naked in his living room.

“Ariadne,” Benedict nods, doing his best to look anywhere but her naked body. He wasn’t usually this awkward around women, but the last thing he expected tonight was a life model. His usual influences for art came from clothed members of the public.

Granville takes a seat at an easel, studying Ariadne with great care before picking up a thin brush. As he runs it through the nearby oil paint, he calls to Benedict, “Join us!”

Benedict shakes his head, heading towards the door. Granville nods understandingly; it was a lot for a person’s first time at a soiree such as this. “Another time perhaps,” Granville says as Benedict leaves the room.

Closing the door, Benedict leaves the artists to their muse. His fingers twitch for his sketchpad, thinking of the images he could create; he had seen the empty seat in front of a spare easel, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down and create the art he saw in his mind. Another time, he thinks to himself.

He turns away from the door where his attention is immediately tethered to a couple across the hallway.

The couple are in the middle of an embrace; connected at the mouth with hands beginning to wander clothing. The stays to the lady’s dress are loosened, the relieved gasp quickly swallowed by her partner’s mouth. Hands continue to wander; moans swallowed by joint mouths. It’s a sight to behold even as the position is changed; the woman straddling her partner, beginning to move her hips to the rhythm of music only they must be able to hear.

Unable to tear his stare away from the couple, Benedict feels his mouth drop open at the impropriety before him.

“Come now, Mr. Bridgerton,” A feminine voice teases, “Surely you’ve seen worse.”

Benedict bristles; unhappy with the tone of her voice and the accusation lightly punctuating the air. “Not that it is any of your business, but I have seen worse.”

Her eyebrows fly into her hair, clearly not expecting the rebuff. Benedict represses a smile at the expression on her face; his eyes dance around the hallway, not knowing where to look without fear of landing on the amorous couple. Benedict had never been one to shy away from love and lust and where it can lead you, but he had never been witness to such an event. The last thing he needed for himself (and his family) was to be classed as a voyeur.

“Follow me,” She announces, crooking a finger at Benedict before walking away.

Helpless and out of his comfort zone, Benedict follows the nameless lady. His eyes pour over her figure as he walks behind her like a lost puppy; her dress is finely made, the fabric clearly new. Benedict keeps his eyes fixed head, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower as she opens a door, standing to one side to let him enter first.

The room is adequately sized; enough room for a fireplace already blazing, a couch big enough for two and a small table and chairs. It’s comfortable; the room is well lit from the candles around the room and the large fire.

The well-dressed lady follows Benedict into the room, leaving him standing in the centre as she heads towards a drinks cabinet. She grabs two glasses and a decanter of liquid that Benedict cannot decipher. Scotch, whisky, brandy – all three would fare him well at this point.

Wordlessly, she hands Benedict a drink. A knuckle’s length of amber liquid swirls in the glass, lit up by the roaring fire. “You have me at a disadvantage,” Benedict starts, “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

She smiles; eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You can spy a Bridgerton by the colour of their eyes,” She snorts, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it, “I’m (Y/N).”

Benedict bows his head; the very picture of gentlemanly politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

If possible, (Y/N)’s smile grows larger, trying her hardest to repress the laughter bubbling inside of her. “This isn’t your usual scene, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict shakes his head. “I’m a friend of Henry’s and call me Benedict please. After being witness to the couple outside, I think we can forgo formalities.”

Laughter escapes her mouth, powerless to help herself. Benedict frowns at her reaction, but (Y/N) waves a hand in apology. “I remembered your face,” She offers in explanation, “You mentioned that you had seen worse, but you still looked so scandalised.”

Benedict huffs, crossing his legs, sipping at his drink before answering. “I didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Henry is an artist! I just never expected that.”

“We’re all artists, Benedict, in one form or another. We’re practically bohemian.”

“Does that happen often?” He asks, nodding towards the door where Benedict holds no doubt that more clothing will have been lost between the enamoured couple.

(Y/N) lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “More often than not. The intimacy that is required with art combined with the amount of alcohol consumed tends to lead to such things.”

“Have you ever taken part in such things?” Benedict asks before realising the extent and implication of his words. “Forgive me,” He coughs, “I’m not usually so forward. You don’t need to answer.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” (Y/N) answers honestly, amused at the lack of filter from the Bridgerton. “Why don’t I ask the next question?”

“Please do,” Benedict responds, loosening the cravat at his neck, deciding to take it off altogether.

“Tell me,” She begins, eyes on the skin now bare to the room, “Do you prefer paints or pastels?”

“Neither,” Benedict answers, “I prefer graphite or charcoal.”

“Interesting…”

“Is it?”

“It is! But I cannot think of a reason why.”

Benedict snorts, draining the last few amber drops in his glass. Silent for a moment, Benedict hums before asking, “Do you draw?”

“Heavens no,” (Y/N) responds, “I’m a talented seamstress, but landscapes and watercolours are not for me.”

“Then why are you here?” Benedict asks; the words unintentionally sharp. He cringes before offering (Y/N) an apologetic smile.

“My friend invited me,” (Y/N) defends, “You met her earlier.”

“I did?”

(Y/N) nods. “You did. She was the life model you were trying your hardest not to ogle.”

Benedict flushes; heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks – partly fuelled by the alcohol in his system, partly fuelled by the knowledge of being caught out. Benedict clears his throat, unable to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed.”

(Y/N) smiles widely. “They didn’t, but you don’t make it habit to frequent such parties. It was clearly a shock to your system.”

Benedict exhales with a laugh; all the while wishing he had another drink in his hand. “I’m not new to art,” He confesses, “But I am new to this… environment.”

(Y/N) leans forward in her chair; her eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight. A coy smile crosses her lips and Benedict idly wonders what she would taste like as she asks, “And what do you think of this new environment?”

Benedict drags his gaze away from (Y/N)’s mouth to look her in the eyes. Evenings like this are something he could quickly get used to so long as he had her company in the early hours of the morn. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he answers, “With your company, I’m fairly certain that I could come to enjoy this new environment.”

“Only fairly?” (Y/N) murmurs, sipping at her drink before continuing, “I think we’re going to have to turn ‘fairly’ into an absolute.”

Benedict tips his head to one side, wondering whether it would go against societal customs to offer his hand in marriage after only knowing someone for an evening. The thought lingers at the back of Benedict’s mind as he replies, “I have complete and utter faith in your ability to do such a thing.”

(Y/N)’s answering smile has Benedict wondering about marriage for a second time in less than two minutes. What would be the appropriate time to ask someone for their hand? He thinks. A powerful enough thought that Benedict has to look away from her; desperate not to ruin a newly budding friendship.

The clock strikes one; the chimes making (Y/N) jump as they ring through the tension-filled room. A sad sigh leaves her lips as she stands, placing her glass on a nearby table.

“I’m afraid I must go,” She declares, biting her bottom lip, lingering in front of the Bridgerton.

Benedict rises from his seat, his voice close to wobbling as he murmurs, “Must you?”

(Y/N) smiles wistfully. “Not all of us have family money, Benedict. I have two dresses to finish for tomorrow evening and I need to sleep.”

“Will I see you again?” He asks, unable to keep the hope from his voice as his mind spins all sorts of fantasies of their next meeting.

(Y/N) nods; Benedict’s heart soars.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Benedict replies a second too late. She’s gone and Benedict is left to wondering how many seamstresses there are in London.

-------------

If Benedict was thinking logically, he knew that there wasn’t thousands of modistes and seamstresses across London. He knew that the number was much closer to hundreds, but to him that was still too many. He thinks back over the interactions from that night, examining the conversations, trying to find a hint of whether (Y/N) had given him the address of her shop. The more he cross examines, the less evidence he finds.

At this point in his investigation to her whereabouts, Benedict was no longer thinking logically. He was thinking with his heart – desperate to see her again so soon. He didn’t want to have to wait until another party where she just might show up. No, he wanted to see her in her own environment where Benedict had no doubt she would flourish.

He makes himself wait three days before beginning the task of tracking her down. His first port of call was to Henry Granville, asking whether he knew anything of the lady accompanying the life model. Henry knew of her by face, but not much bar her first name. He leaves Benedict with a word of encouragement and a promise of another party soon; Benedict thanks the man heartily, knowing that Henry had tried his best.

However, it left Benedict in a predicament that meant he had to bring in reinforcements.

“I need your help,” Benedict pleads of his dear sister, Eloise Bridgerton a day after starting his hunt for her.

“Whatever for?”

“I need to find someone… a friend.”

“A friend?” Eloise asks sounding very much as if she didn’t believe a word leaving her elder brother’s mouth.

“Am I not allowed to have friends?” Benedict asks of his sister, exasperated at her curiosity. Eloise raises a single eyebrow, and it isn’t a minute later that Benedict begs of his sister, “Please do not tell mother.”

The laughter that leaves Eloise lasts for the next three streets, her chuckles grating on Benedict’s nerves. “Where did you meet her?” Eloise eventually asks, much calmer now that she had gotten the laughter out of her system.

“At Mr. Granville’s if you must know.”

Eloise doesn’t answer; she casts her gaze across her brother’s face, reading eh expression there and the hopeful look in his eyes. Whoever she was, she had done a number on her brother for him to be this desperate to find her.

“Why not wait for the next party?”

Benedict huffs, “She may not go to the next party, then I would be back at the beginning.”

Eloise falls silent again. She watches her older brother, watches how he fiddles with his fingers – a nervous tic he’s hand since he was a boy apparently, it happened more when he was itching to reach for his sketchpad in an attempt to keep his mind quiet.

“She’s really made an impression on you, hasn’t she?”

Benedict sighs, peering up at his sister as he calms his hands. “Please?” He asks quietly, not daring to voice the beg any louder than it needs to be.

Eloise reaches across the gap between them, covering Benedict’s hands with hers. For a moment, he isn’t the elder brother but a man in need of help. “I’ll help you, Benedict.”

“Thank you,” He replies; the relief in his voice evident as his whole body relaxes.

-----------

The tightness in his chest that has plagued him for the last week lifts as soon as his eyes land on her. She hasn’t seen him yet; too busy with another client gushing about their latest dress. (Y/N) looks flattered as she takes in compliment after compliment and Benedict can see why; she is clearly a talented modiste. If it didn’t raise suspicion on his end, he would suggest his mother come here instead of the seamstress just off Grosvenor Square.

The customer soon departs leaving Benedict and Eloise the sole clients in the shop. (Y/N) brushes down her dress, collecting herself before greeting her newest customers.

She freezes when she finds the tall stature of Benedict Bridgerton in and amongst the countless mannequins of her shop. Plastering on a polite smile, she steps forward, “How may I help you today?”

Benedict remains frozen; his stare solely focused on (Y/N). Eloise steps forward, nudging her brother in the side with her elbow. Eloise smiles at (Y/N). “From my brother’s reaction, we have found who we were looking for.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m in the market for a new dress,” Eloise states, elbowing her brother once more.

“Yes!” Benedict coughs, brought out of his stupor, “Eloise needs a new dress.”

(Y/N) glances between the siblings; the awed expression on Benedict’s face combined with the knowing smile on Eloise’s doesn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it heightens them. (Y/N) turns to Eloise, flashing her a friendly smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow your brother?”

Eloise snorts. “You may keep him if that helps.”

(Y/N) laughs, covering her mouth before grabbing Benedict’s hand, leading him to the back of the shop. “What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions; her eyes wide as she closes the door behind them. This was a conversation to have in private; not one to be had in front of Benedict’s sister.

“Accompanying my sister to buy a new dress for an upcoming ball,” Benedict replies smartly, his tone innocent as he applauds himself for asking Eloise to join him on his mission.

(Y/N) fixes him with a flat look, not believing a single word leaving his lips. Benedict flounders for a second before smiling bashfully at the seamstress. It wasn’t often that Benedict was left speechless, but (Y/N) reduced him to such manners.

After a moment, Benedict sighs, deciding honesty to be the best policy. “I wanted to see you again.”

(Y/N)’s face softens at Benedict’s confession, unable to fend off the growing fondness for the Bridgerton. If she was being honest with herself, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the man since leaving Mr. Granville’s party.

Just as quick as the fondness set in, so does the worry on Benedict’s behalf. Gesturing between them both, (Y/N) offers Benedict a sad smile. “Nothing can come of this, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“What do you mean? Call me Benedict, you did the other night.”

“There were no class lines the other night,” She all but cries, “Outside of Mr. Granville’s home, we cannot be friends, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” He emphasises, “To you, I am Benedict. Not ‘Mr. Bridgerton’.”

“Benedict,” She whispers, giving in to the pleading look in those blue eyes of his.

“Why can’t we be friends?” He asks quietly as if scared to voice such a question louder out of fear of the response.

“You’re the son of a Viscount. I am a seamstress. Outside of my making dresses for your female relatives, where do our paths cross socially?”

“I want them to cross,” Benedict protests almost childishly, crossing his arms as if they were the personification of the budding relationship blooming between (Y/N) and himself.

(Y/N) laughs without humour. “Think of the fallout, Benedict. You would lose friends and contacts. I would be reduced to the rumour of a mistress and lose clients.”

Benedict purses his lips; trying to find fault in her argument but he comes up empty. Class lines were so rigidly drawn in current society and Benedict knew that (Y/N) was more than deserving to be thrown to the vicious rumour mill of London ton.

“What about Granville’s parties?” Benedict offers as a solution. “You say we cannot socialise so openly so let’s meet there with every party.”

“You would go to that extent to win my friendship?”

He nods. “I had the most fun the other night than I had in a long time and I have a very strong feeling it was down to you. You say we cannot be friends so openly, so this is the next best thing. Do I feel go about keeping you a secret? Not particularly, but London society can be unforgivably cruel, and I’ll be damned if I see you suffer at the hands of it.”

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, ridding herself of the tears that grew throughout Benedict’s impassioned speech. “Mr. Granville’s it is, then.”

Benedict smiles; relief flooding his system at your words of agreement. Impulsively, he takes your hand, squeezing it once before letting it drop. The very action sets his veins alight with emotions he has not felt in a very long time, but he doesn’t not let them distract him as he whispers, “I’ll send a messenger with the date and time of the next soiree. Will I see you there?”

“You will,” (Y/N) murmurs, “I promise you.”

Benedict flashes her a handsome smile before returning to the front of the shop, knowing full well he has been too long to be acceptable.

Eloise greets him with a superior smile. Crossing her arms, she asks, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Turning back to face the back of the shop, Benedict smiles to himself. “Yes, I think I have,” He answers, offering Eloise an arm, departing the shop once and for all.

-----------

28th April, 9pm. Mr. Granville’s home. I hope to see you there.

The missive arrives not four days later. (Y/N) reads and rereads the small piece of paper, memorising Benedict’s elegant handwriting. Anticipation curls in her gut making it hard for her to focus on the task at hand; she had three dresses to finish all for next week. If she didn’t focus now, nothing would get done. She would end up wasting the evening by daydreaming of a Bridgerton and their handsome smile.

She hadn’t expected him. He had entered her life so suddenly. After their initial meeting, she hadn’t expected to see him again; had accepted that it was a one-off meeting that Benedict would soon forget, soon taken with the newest fascination in his life if he wasn’t married off by the end of the season.

That didn’t happen. Instead, he had shown up in her shop with his sister in tow. He had begged for a friendship, to see her again. He kept surprising her at every turn, kept startling her when she least expected it.

Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Not only of her heart, but of her reputation. If the two were caught and things misunderstood, it would not be Benedict to suffer. It would be her; she would be reduced to rumours of impropriety, labelled a ‘fallen woman’ whilst Benedict would most likely suffer a harsh word from his mother and a clap on the back from his brothers.

Society, in general, was cruel. London society, however, was punishing when it wanted to be.

--------------

The 28th April rolls around quickly. (Y/N) losing herself in her work, sewing until the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning to ensure that the gowns are ready and that she is free enough to attend the party.

Stepping out of the carriage, (Y/N) steadies herself for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle the butterflies exciting her. She felt ridiculous, letting herself be this affected by the man after only one meeting. Yet, he had shown up at her shop, after searching for her for however long.

(Y/N) felt in two minds. On one hand, she wanted the friendship of Benedict Bridgerton for the simple fact that he was entertaining. On the other hand, she despised the idea that she may be a project for the man – their opposite places in society becoming a barrier between them.

The atmosphere in Mr. Granville’s house is heady as (Y/N) enters the premises; the party very much in full swing as she sheds her shawl and leaves it on a side table. She smiles at those she recognises, waving quickly at Ariadne who she finds modelling for many artists once more. Ariadne smiles back but doesn’t move; her eye on a particular artist, a female she knew she would be going home with that night.

(Y/N) shakes her head fondly at the antics of her friend; having known Ariadne for years and loved her proclivity for men and women. (Y/N) admired Ariadne’s lack of shame for who she is, who she wants to be. She doesn’t let the law stop of her from loving who she wants to.

Arriving at the door she entered through last time, (Y/N) hesitates, feeling unsure of herself. A small flash of doubt lances through her mind as she reaches for the doorknob; how long was this going to last before Benedict got bored? How long did she have with the man that was no doubt going to change her world?

The very thought haunts her as she enters the room, finding Benedict in the same spot as last time. He stands when he sees (Y/N) standing the doorway; his suit elegantly rumpled as if he had been sat there for some time. His blue eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room; the only light coming from the fire in the grate. His smile brightens as he takes in her appearance.

“You came,” Benedict breathes, his voice relieved as if he was worried that she may not attend the party after all.

“I promised you I would,” (Y/N) replies, taking the offered glass from Benedict. Their fingers brush and (Y/N) tries exceptionally hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that passes between them. Friendship, she snipes to herself, nothing more.

“I know,” He whispers, “But I’m glad all the same.”

Something in (Y/N) melts at the stark honesty of his words; she found herself being knocked off her axis and it was only their third meeting.

“I have to know,” (Y/N) starts, her voice amused as she takes a seat across from the brunette, “How many shops did you go into before finding mine?”

Benedict averts his gaze, distracting himself from answering by taking a long sip of his drink. “Too many,” He eventually answers.

“You don’t know the number?”

“I know the exact number, I could even tell you their names, but I hesitate to tell you.”

“You have to tell me now,” (Y/N) prompts, leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “Please?”

Benedict sighs a war-weary sigh; acting as if (Y/N) had worn him down to his very last nerve. With a light blush dusting his cheeks, Benedict admits, “I visited close to fifteen shops with Eloise before finding yours.”

“Fifteen?!” (Y/N) all but shouts, laughter soon falling from her lips as rain would fall from the sky. The very sound sets Benedict’s heart racing within his chest making him wonder whether it was going to run right out of his chest any moment.

“Eloise was very grateful when we found you. She despises dress shopping.”

“Yet she went to fifteen dress shops with you in order to find me.”

“She’s my favourite sibling, but don’t tell the others.”

“How many do you have? I’ve heard of the famous Bridgerton brood but never focused long enough to find out how many children there were.”

“Eight of us in total,” Benedict laughs at (Y/N)’s gasp, “We’re named alphabetically too. My father used to joke it was so he could keep track of us easier.”

“A wise idea,” (Y/N) murmurs.

“He was a wise man,” Benedict states, thinking of his departed father with a keen sting of grief. It didn’t matter how long his father had been gone, the wound would never heal. He would miss his father until his very last day on this earth; Benedict would spend the rest of his life trying to emulate Edmund Bridgerton’s life lessons.

A pensive silence descends only for a moment before (Y/N) asks, “Why did you look for me?”

The blush returns to Benedict’s cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you again?” He asks sheepishly. He had prepared himself for such a conversation but having it in real life was no comparison to the fantasy in his head.

“Why did you want to see me again? Why not wait for the next party?”

“I wasn’t sure you would attend the next party,” Benedict reasons, “And I really did want to see you again.”

(Y/N) smiles bashfully, ducking her head as his words wash over her. She fiddles with the stem of the glass in her hand before taking a long sip; the worries from earlier had returned with the conviction behind his words. She had to know; if she didn’t ask him, she would never know and she would never be prepared for the day he would inevitably grow bored and move onto the next project. “Can we be honest with each other for a moment, Benedict?”

“I thought we have been so far.”

(Y/N) smiles despite herself. Schooling her face into a mask of polite interest, she tries to cover the concern and worry steadily rising in her gut. “This isn’t a saviour moment for you is it? Befriending a poorer seamstress, getting to know her before eventually getting bored?”

“I haven’t thought of it as that for one moment.”

“You haven’t?”

“I haven’t, but the fact that you have says more about my character than I care to admit.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” She hurries to say, worried about losing the friendship that had only just begun and scared of hurting Benedict’s feelings.

“You haven’t insulted me,” Benedict promises with a small smile.

“I can’t help but worry,” She admits in a small voice.

“I would socialise with you in public, but you made such a sound argument the other week that I couldn’t find fault. You’re right, it could lead to all sorts of trouble, but I want you to know that I do not have a saviour complex. I just enjoy your company.”

(Y/N) relaxes, sagging further into the chair as she lets herself breathe freely since the worrisome thought entered her mind. Now that it was out in the open, she could smile more without worry. “I enjoy your company too,” She confesses, “You’re quite refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” Benedict asks, sounding close to laughter.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at the older gentleman. “Yes, refreshing. I deal with meddlesome mothers and droll daughters all day. You make me laugh… it’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad I can provide refreshment,” Benedict laughs, his smile wide with his happiness.

Happy smiles are exchanged as the worries leave (Y/N)’s mind. She was wanted here by the man sat across from her; he had no plans to leave any time soon. For now, her mind is settled and as she raises her glass to the Bridgerton across from her, she briefly wonders whether her heart would soon be settled too.

------------

The friendship continues for weeks; neither of them the wiser to their growing feelings for the other. If they are, they remain silent, not wanting to disturb the status quo but rather, pine from a distance.

They continue to meet at Mr. Granville’s, sneaking away to their room where they talk for hours about anything and everything.

At one point, (Y/N) manages to convince Benedict to bring his sketchpad with him where he fills pages with drawings of her. She doesn’t realise it; she doesn’t know that the small sketch of hands holding a champagne flute is Benedict’s study of her.

Time passes and they become attached to the other; saving pieces of information and stories of friends and family for when they finally get to see each other. The time they have together filled with laughter; the class lines that separate them outside Mr. Granville’s home practically invisible as Benedict chokes on his drink at the scandalous nature of (Y/N)’s story, unaware such language could leave such a woman.

It’s easy, it’s natural. It’s all Benedict has to fill his time between the mind-numbing balls and luncheons set up by his mother in order to find him a wife. Little does Violet Bridgerton know that Benedict has found someone he would devote the rest of his life to but whether she would be willing, whether she loves him as wholly as he loves her is another matter entirely.

--------------

He starts to haunt her dreams from their very first meeting. The colour of his eyes combined with the brightness of his smile chased her from sleep much faster than she would have liked.

Sitting up in bed, she rests her chin on her knees, feeling the helplessness that often accompanies the swift descent into love.

In the short time she had spent in Benedict’s company, (Y/N) had to admit that she had fallen head over heels for the brunette. Sighing heavily, she tries to pinpoint the exact moment her feelings turned from platonic to romantic but finds herself unable to do so. At this point, she cannot help but wonder whether she had fallen for him the first instance she saw him. He looked so out of depth in his perfectly pressed clothes; it was adorable.

(Y/N) runs a hand across her face in an attempt to dispel the lingering tiredness but to also ride herself of thoughts of the man who had so readily captured her heart without knowing he had done so.

How could she explain this feeling? Her heart refused to calm in his presence, beating away in her chest as if ready to take flight. Benedict smiled in her direction and her mind ceased to form coherent thought. She didn’t tell anyone how in the darkest hours of the night, she stretched a hand across the empty blankets of her bed, imagining what it would be like to have Benedict lie next to her. Would he snore? Was he an early riser or did he prefer to sleep in?

Such questions would travel the expanse of her mind until the birds began to announce the arrival of a new day. Her mind creating daydreams that left her heart aching in her chest when she came back to earth, reminded harshly of the barriers that divided them.

What scent did he prefer? Did he favour scotch or brandy?

Endlessly she tortured herself with such questions. Spinning fantasies in which she woke up every morning with Benedict by her side. She would wake to find him already watching her, as if in disbelief that she would choose to love a man such as him.

A single tear escapes (Y/N)’s eye as she forces herself back to the present. Eyeing her small rooms, (Y/N) thought that she should be fortunate that a man such as Benedict Bridgerton would give her the honour of his much requested time. It would do her no good to fall in love with him now.

Straightening up and running a hand through her sleep plait, (Y/N) vows to rid herself of her feelings for the second eldest Bridgerton.

However, as the vow is sealed, a small voice in the back of (Y/N)’d mind casts doubt on her ability to do such a thing.

----------------

“Eloise has been asking after you,” Benedict comments; choosing the line of conversation for this section of the evening. At this point, they’ve been at Granville’s home for hours, covering all topics of conversation conceivable. (Y/N) had updated Benedict on Ariadne’s clandestine love affair with a daughter of a prominent member of His Majesty’s Navy to which Benedict spent over an hour trying to guess which officer and which daughter. (Y/N) delighted in announcing his incorrect guesses.

“How is she?” She asks, feeling a distant fondness for the woman who had shown up in her shop so many weeks ago.

“Distracted if I’m being truthful,” Benedict murmurs, “Her hands are always covered in ink. I think she has an admirer.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” (Y/N) demands, crossing her arms. “Eloise is a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

“She’s turned down the last three marriage proposals so I’m curious to see what type of man has captured her attention.”

“Siblings and their nosiness,” (Y/N) admonishes though there is no heat behind it.

“I want what’s best for her,” Benedict defends.

“I know you do,” She whispers, fondness for the man sitting across from her surging through her. It leaves her quiet; it leaves her breathless as she fends off the heart racing, stomach turning affection she feels for the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict closes his eyes, kicking up his heels and resting them on the table. A happy, content smile crosses his lips as he lets himself enjoy the moment they find themselves in.

I could do this for the rest of myself, (Y/N) thinks to herself, I could sit with him for the rest of my life.

It’s with that thought that (Y/N) knows she has broken the vow she made only a few days ago.

“You’re different tonight… quieter. Is something the matter?” Benedict asks, a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/N) shakes her head, refusing to look the man in the eye. Instead, she focuses her gaze on her glass, swirling the liquid around as if it were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

Benedict sighs, reaching across the table, taking her glass from her hand and placing it on the table in front of them. He stops himself from covering her hand with his; that is a luxury for couples. As much as Benedict wanted more, he would settle for being her friend.

“You can tell me anything, (Y/N),” Benedict murmurs quietly, breaking her resolve clean in half.

“I broke my vow,” She whispers, voice close to breaking.

“What vow?” Benedict asks, panic beginning to rise internally. “Are you promised to another?”

“Nothing like that,” (Y/N) reassures, “I broke a vow that I made to myself which somehow makes me feel worse. I would rather I broke a promise of marriage.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

(Y/N) sniffles, wiping a hand under her eyes before laughing humourlessly. “A few nights ago, I made myself a promise and it seems that I am unable to keep such a vow.”

“Would you tell me that vow?”

(Y/N) sighs, seeing no point in lying to him. “I vowed that I would rid myself of my feelings for you.”

“And have you?” Benedict asks warily; he needs to know whether he has a chance to love her the way he wants to. He wants to be her everything; he wants to kiss her goodnight and then kiss her good morning hours later.

She shakes her head; wisps of hair flying loose from her updo. “I don’t think I ever really tried. I don’t think I want to lose my feelings for you.”

“I don’t often make grand declarations, I don’t believe in over the top displays of affection,” Benedict begins; his eyes fixed on her face, on every movement of her lips, “But I love you, (Y/N). I love you and if I need to, I will make a grand declaration, I will shout it from the rooftop of Buckingham Palace.”

“Please don’t do that!” (Y/N) gasps, an amused smile on her face. “I love you too, I love you with everything I am, but aren’t you worried?”

“Worried?”

“Of the fallout? It could never work, Benedict. See sense, please,” She pleads; eyes wide.

“Why wouldn’t it work? We love each other, surely that should be enough.”

“It is enough for me, Benedict,” She reassures quickly, “But it isn’t enough for the rest of society.”

“Why do you care what they think?”

“My entire business relies on such things, Benedict! Whether I earn an income over the season is down to what the ton think.”

“It is so easy to get lost in the wealth, the titles and the balls,” Benedict whispers, “You bring me back down to earth; remind me that I could happily live without the grandeur because I would have the love of the woman I have come to adore.”

The words have her argument crumbling into ash before her. There was no arguing with that; he was prepared to live a simpler life with her.

“You would do that for me? Live a simpler life?” She asks because she has to know; she has to know that she isn’t something he would come to regret in the weeks, months, years that pass. She couldn’t live with herself if he harboured any resentment towards her for his loss of societal ties; the very thought terrified her.

“Darling,” Benedict states, “I would give it all up for you. As long as I have you, I do not need the life in London and everything else that comes with it. We can live in the country; I have a cottage there that I am sure you’re going to love.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll love your almost as much as I love you.”

“They won’t hate me?” She asks, voice timid as she thinks of the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, knowing she was not a woman to cross.

“They could never.”

(Y/N) begins to nod; slow at first before growing more rapidly with a smile breaking out across her face. “Okay,” She breathes, “I love you, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m not scared anymore.”

Benedict gathers her in his arms, finally getting to hold her after dreaming of such an action for so long. Better than his dreams, he thinks to himself as he glances between her stare and her lips. Silently, she nods, smiling softly as Benedict takes that final leap, pressing their lips together.

(Y/N) sighs against his mouth; a noise he could happily hear for the rest of his life. Her hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. She feels like heaven against him as Benedict continues to taste the remnants of her drink on her lips.

Her hands leave his jacket, reaching up to card through his hair. (Y/N) tugs lightly at the dark brown locks, smiling into the kiss at the sound of the low groan in the back of Benedict’s throat. (Y/N) loses herself in the feel of the man against her; all hard lines and muscles, he feels like a Greek god and she a mere mortal getting to experience the heady passion written about in epic poems and plays.

Desperate for air, but not desperate to leave the arms of the man she loves so wholly, (Y/N) breaks the kiss. Panting, Benedict kisses her lightly once, twice, three times before pressing his forehead to hers. A moment of peace before the rush of the future began.

Boundaries, divides, lines really meant little when you had found the one who truly saw you.

****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @janelongxox​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

[ayamturd]

afraid│nihachu

summary: you wanted to explore the world above, and niki thought it best to bring the trinkets of the world to you 

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: (requested) in-game origins!niki

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write, i’ve honestly been in the strongest angst mood lately but hopefully did justice to your request! (this was so cute as an idea)

also thank you for my first origin! request, ik the hype has faded at this point but this was still so fun to write and explore :)

wc: (3.1k) - m.list

“You’re staring again.”

“AHHH!” Whipping around, Niki gaped at Wilbur, his amused grin meeting her wide-eyed shock as she placed a hand to her heart, exhaling deep breaths to collect herself. 

He was phased through the ground, his neck barely peaking out of the soil until he fully emerged, his body transparent as the sun gleamed through him. 

She lifted her head, craning to see whether you noticed the both of them or not from behind the river bend, and smacked Wilbur as hard as she could once realizing they were in the clear. 

“What was that for,” Wilbur whined, pouting and simultaneously rubbing his now sore arm. Despite fuming, Niki’s deep glare barely fazed him as he began cackling at how upset she looked.

“Wilbur,” Niki spat out. He paid no attention to her tone and held his stomach in laughter, floating slightly above her. “Oh lighten up, will you?” 

He propped his face on his hands, smirking while looking down at her with a teasing voice. “It’s cute.”

She huffed in response, turning away from him with her arms crossed. “Shut up.”

“Awwww Niki,” he cooed. She refused to meet his eyes and stared down, swishing her tail in the water as it reflected on the afternoon sun.

“What do you want?” Wilbur groaned at her lack of play but leaned on his back, tilting his head backwards to see her as he hovered. “You really are no fun.”

As she turned to glare at him again, he giggled but continued to speak. “When are you finally going to talk to them?”

Sputtering at his question, Niki became flustered and tried to argue back, but she struggled with her words. “I do talk to them!”

He gave her a deadpan expression, a look of judgement from her defense as she furrowed her eyebrows in response. “I do!”

Sighing dramatically, Wilbur paid no attention to her pathetic excuse with a smile. His lack of retention angered Niki more. “Wilbur!”

“You are so whipped Niki, it’s adorable.” 

Niki pushed herself up and strived to hit him again, though Wilbur was fast enough and raised just out of her reach. Sitting on the bank with her tail still dipped in the water, she grumbled at his antics once more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmm, is that so?”

Niki paused, unsure if it was that obvious for him to point it out in such a manner. She became insecure to the thought, afraid that her small advancements were really that noticeable despite getting her nowhere. Her sudden silence made Wilbur’s smile fade, and he quickly picked up on her self-doubt.

“Don’t do that.” His tone was harshly blunt and broke Niki’s train of thought. 

“Do what,” she asked meekly. Glancing up at him through her hair, she looked back down into her lap before turning her head in the direction you were last. 

“Be afraid of the truth,” Wilbur stated. Floating down, he met her eye level and peered up at her. His expression, while serious, held a kind smile to encourage her of the fact while his eyes were soft. “You like them, Niki, and you shouldn’t be afraid of saying it.”

She sighed and tried to turn away, but he wasn’t having it and pulled her chin back gently. “Niki.”

“I know, I know.” Niki shook his hand off, shaking her head slightly and pushing his hand away while moving to hold her own arms, the makeshift hug a form of comfort to the idea. “I just- I’ve never had feelings like this like I do for them. It’s all so new.”

“And I understand that, but you shouldn’t be afraid to face something new. This of all things especially. You like them right?”

Although she was hesitant to admit so, she knew that it was true. It was beyond the truth for you made her smile and laugh like no one ever had, your small conversations and light banter always brightening her day and filling her heart with joy. She wasn’t scared to say she liked you, she was scared of saying it out loud and letting reality take its course.

“I do,” she murmured, a small nod following after. “I like them, yes.”

“They make you happy?” Another pause, but she responded more confidently in the smaller time frame than before.

“They do.”

“Then you should find ways to make them happy too!” Wilbur exclaimed. He rose his arms widely and grew excited from her admittance. Floating towards the grass again, he plucked a small flower from the ground and twirled it between his fingers, handing it to Niki after. “Show them how they make you feel because they matter to you and you care.”

“Well how am I supposed to do that?”

“Do what?” 

For the second time that day, Niki whirled around and was surprised to see you innocently swimming above the water surface. She was panicked, eyes wide, and turned to look at Wilbur, who coincidently was gone. The bitch.

She faced you again, smile anxiously forced wide as she greeted you.

“Y/n!” You smiled kindly to her, unobservant to her nervousness.

“Hello, Niki!” You swam closer to her and rested an arm against the shore line, your other hand placed on her tail. Her breathing hitched at the small contact, and she relaxed once you began rubbing her scales lightly.

“I saw you talking to Wilbur, how is he?” Glancing back to where he previous floated, Niki scowled in annoyance at the reminder of his sudden departure. 

“Fine, I’m sure. Still annoying when he wants to be.” She mumbled the last words, a frown briefly hung on her lips. You giggled helplessly to her small pout with a hand covering your mouth. While obscured by your hand, Niki practically melted from the sound.

“How are you?” you asked after finishing your small fit. Niki blushed uncontrollably from how intense your eyes looked, the light of the sun catching on the hues of your iris; the sight alone was beautiful to her. 

“I- I’m alright, I’m great.” Always around you.

“That’s good, I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” Concerned over the matter of fact, you leaned closer to Niki and absentmindedly stroked her tail again with your thumb, the movement endearing yet almost unconscious. “I was concerned something happened.”

Coughing slightly to gather herself, Niki cleared her throat from her flush while waving a hand upward. 

“O-oh, no everything’s okay. I was helping Wilbur with his house yesterday, he was trying to finish the living space but Tommy and Tubbo kept messing things up. Now that I think of it, I was more of a mediator than actual help.”

Chuckling loudly to her engrossed ranting, you interrupted Niki’s explanation and had to hunch over in pain, arms wrapped around your waist while you tail flicked hastily below. 

You laughter was contagious, and soon Niki joined in with her own, the sound fading into faint snickering that melded together in an alluring symphony. 

Eventually as you both stopped, however, your smile dimmed. Niki’s fell as well once noticing your sudden drop in mood, and she tapped your shoulders from the unexpected shift. 

“Y/n?” Niki slid into the water, the cold temperature difference from staying above making her shiver, yet she paid no mind to it, her attention solely on you. “What’s wrong?”

Realizing you let your thoughts show, you tried to pretend nothing happened, smiling dismissively to your previous frown and placing a hand on Niki’s that she held on your shoulder. Your attempts, unfortunately, were futile since your reassurance barely covered for the lack of joy in your eyes. That, and the fact that Niki could read more than you thought.

“It’s nothing really, I’m-” a humorless laughed escaped you as you aimed to convey your feelings. “I’m honestly so jealous of you.”

Niki’s mouth feel agape in disbelief and confusion. “Me?”

Tilting your head back with genuine laughter, you nodded. “Yes, you.” 

“I’ve never been able to see the things landers make or do, it’s so intriguing to hear about. I just can’t help but want to see those things beyond this tiny pond.” While you had turned to face Niki, your eyes were trained downward, with a disheartened smile. 

Niki immediately tried to cheer you up, hating the idea of anything trivial upsetting you overall. “I could introduce you to my friends if you like? They’re very nice people, no matter how chaotic I make them sound.” It was her turn to be affectionate as she brushed her hand over yours while your tails nearly wrapped around each other.

You gave another sad smile at her attempt, but appreciated her efforts nonetheless. “That’s really sweet, Niki, but I wouldn’t want to meet and burden them simply because of my own ambitions.”

Clinging onto the tips of her fingers, you squeezed them in reassurance. “Thank you, though. Ever the thoughtful you are, huh?”

Despite still hung over your downplayed emotions, Niki reddened from your words. As you looked above Niki at a flock of birds that flew overhead, she was suddenly faced with an idea. 

Formulating a plan and envisioning the hopeful outcome, Niki squealed unexpectedly, surprising you. She had no time to apologize, however, for her thoughts were running wild in anticipation. “I’m so sorry, but I actually need to go,” she voiced. 

You tried to answer, but through Niki’s blind eagerness, she didn’t hear you. She promptly pushed the fresh flower in your hand in replacement of her own, and wished you a farewell before diving into the water. 

With a scratch to your head, you lightly chuckled at how cute she was and lifted the flower up. Staring at the little tulip, you beamed and brought it towards your nose, smelling the aroma and kissing the petals softly. 

Waiting impatiently, Niki fiddled with the wet rope of the drawstring pouch. The moon was at high rise, the overcasting ray highlighting the empty landscape as all were asleep or safely tucked home. 

The air buzzed from the still night, yet Niki couldn’t help but feel unease despite the calm space. Before she could drive herself mad, you finally emerged from the dark water. 

“Good evening to you, Niki,” you joked. Swimming swiftly over to her, you glanced around the both of you and also noted the quiet. “It’s a gorgeous time to be awake.”

Although your words could have been interpreted as sarcastic, you meant anything but with a dazed tone and delighted appearance. Meeting her smile with your own, you spun in the water, taking in the cool breeze while lost in the starry night. 

“Not that I don’t love our hang outs, but why so late Niki? If you wanted to go star gazing, you could have said.” 

She laughed nervously, tugging on the small pouch in habit before holding it out to you. “No, actually, I- I wanted to give you this.”

Intrigued, you lifted the bag from her hands and held it against you as you opened it, letting out a gasp from the treasures all tucked together. Niki thought it best to explain herself. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to burden the idea, but I couldn’t help it and wanted for you to experience those things too, even if it’s only little things.” Gesturing to the bag you held, she pointed to the contents inside despite you lost to the beauty each item held. 

“I asked my friends to help gather things I thought you would enjoy. They’re not the most extravagant, but they all have their special charms.” 

“Niki…” Your voice was airy, barely above a whisper as you tried to comprehend her thoughtfulness. Too anxious for her own good, Niki continued to ramble.

“My friend Tommy, you know Tommy, he managed to trade for this dagger! The hilt has this small ruby in it if you look closely, but I like to think the whole craftsmanship of it is gorgeous. Oh and he also dumped in these things they use to eat! See this one here,” she dug in the open pouch for the metal utensils, lifting them individually to name them from what she was taught. 

“This one is called a ‘spoon,’ while this one is called a ‘fork.’ It’s pointy but isn’t sharp!”

“Niki-” She paid no mind to you and replaced the bag in your hands with the metal objects, her excitement overtaking her apprehension and wanting to explain them all.

“Now Phil, he gifted this lovely pocket watch. It tells the time without needing the sun! If you listen closely, you can hear this ticking noise from the gears that make it work, see?” She pushed the glowing locket near your ear, the soft mechanics working perfectly in motion. 

“He also enchanted it so the water won’t hurt it, water usually isn’t the best for their types of machines.” Niki handed you the watch carefully as she continued to talk. “He’s an Elytrian too! Very kind and wise, incredibly considerate.”

“That’s amazing, Niki, bu-”

“Ah, look at this!” Struggling to pull the wooden figurine out through the pouch opening, she yanked it out with a grunt, a smile quickly forming at its shape.

“It’s a duck! Tubbo is so cute and carved him himself, but wanted you to have him!” Holding him out, you grasped the smooth carving firmly with a grin, the animal admittedly adorable despite it’s oddly shaped body. “His name is Benson,” Niki exclaimed proudly.

You giggled fondly, patting the inanimate duck with your hands in spite how full they were. “Hello, Benson.”

“Oh and Ranboo!” Niki cried out. As she searched for his gift, you decided it best to interrupt. Or at least try to. 

“Niki, before that, I-” She began to mutter under her breath, frustrated with pulling his object out and distracted to your attempts.

“Niki.” 

“How did he even put this in here? It’s so bi-”

“Niki, love.”

Freezing from the endearment, she glanced at you with a sheepish smile. Although your adoring grin said otherwise, Niki was overwhelmed at the thought that she offended you some how. Before she could spew out apologies, you saw her slight panicked and acted quickly. 

Cradling all the gifts with one hand, you pulled her forward and kissed her, your hand holding her gently while caressing her cheek. She hummed out a sound of surprise, the noise muffled against your lips. 

While she was frozen for a few seconds, once the realization passed she relaxed completely from your touch, pulling you closer if it were humanely possible.  

All you both could feel was each other, the warmth that spread throughout your bodies a releasing high that drove passion and unenforced love free. You could have stayed there forever, you felt, just taking Niki in for all that she was, but chose to pull away; you wanted to see her.

Panting from the huge surge of emotions that passed, you both gazed into each other’s eyes in a mix of shock and intimacy never before shared or expressed.

Grabbing her hand, you lifted it to your mouth and pressed your lips firmly to her knuckles. “Thank you, Niki. You’re more than I could ever ask for.”

Unlike her past encounters, Niki didn’t turn away. She embraced your tenderness and accepted the burning warmth that encapsulated her for what it was and finally presented. 

She had nothing to hide anymore. She had nothing to fear anymore.

Bonus:

“Wait, what else do you have in the bag?”

You were both sprawled onto a large boulder, the rock perched slightly above the water surface in the middle of the lake. Considering the chill of the night and the cool touch of the stone, you were embraced in each other’s hold, arms strung together with hands intertwined. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Sitting up right, Niki pulled out all the objects in a pile and separated the ones you already saw in comparison to the others. She picked each one up as she explained. 

“This is called a tea kettle! I mentioned him before, but Ranboo found it while… digging (she didn’t know how to kindly say playing with dirt). It’s old but called an ‘antique’ because it’s rare!” Handing you the small pot, your finger grazed against the rusted metal in fascination of the discoloring and ancient beauty.

“Now these are sulfur crystals! Jack is from the nether so he collects a lot of them when he finds pure ones.” Lifting one towards the sky, you awed at the color that shined through it, the yellow hue soft yet vibrant under the moonlight glow. Reaching for one gently, you peered through the flat crystal with a giggle.

“They sometimes can smell really bad he said, but as long as we don’t mix it with other things like potions, we should be alright.” You hummed while still gazing through the clear solid. 

Enamored with the crystals, your attention was drawn back to Niki when you heard something chime. 

“I’m not sure why Wilbur thought it would be a good idea to gift these to us, but he thought it best to give us these things called jingle bells.” Shaking them once more, you were delighted to find they had a joyful-like sound, the light ringing noise something magnificent that you’ve never heard before underwater.

You played with them once Niki gave them to you, your smile wide from the new discovery and breathless to the music it sang. 

“Oh I didn’t realize he put one in.” 

“Who?” you asked, your eyes still on the small metal balls that reflected the moon in combination to the water surface. 

Niki sighed before stating with a smile, “Fragrance Man.”

You paused at the name, and turned towards her confused. “Fragrance Man?”

Nodding softly with an amused chuckle, Niki revealed the final item to you. It was a glass bottle, one typically used for potions, but held strange bundles all tied individually. 

“I think from the last time he showed me that these are called ‘sage bundles.’ You’re supposed to burn them for a stronger smell, but he might have put it in here since that last time I saw his collection, I liked smelling it from the bottle.”

Holding it out towards you, Niki uncapped the cork top for you to try. You leaned over and hovered your nose over the open neck, exhaling in captivation from the floral foliage and cooling sensation it brought. 

“Wow, Niki. This is all so amazing!” You had little to say to the collection of trinkets she assembled for you, still speechless to the effort she went through for you. 

“You’re friends sound so nice and thoughtful,” you hummed, reaching for her hand again and interlacing your fingers together.

Niki snorted at the thought but accepted your hand nonetheless. 

“They’re okay sometimes.”

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You’re given a lackluster tour of Dracula’s castle that adds more questions than it answers, yet your quarters are beyond admirable and enough to forget the mysteries for just tonight. His ice is slowly melting, but not enough for you to see anything certain. To help speed things along, you decide to be a friendly guest and cook breakfast for the both of you.

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ previous. ☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

Your host is as gracious as the circumstances allow, you begin to realize. As immense and as glorious as the few parts of the castle you’ve seen are, your host confides that they were once even grander. He speaks briefly of there being a battle of sorts. He doesn’t say when or why, despite prodding, but it helps to fill in some of the gaps you have.

Spying some of the deeper gouges and gashes in the tough stone, you can’t help but wonder exactly what he was battling.

“You won the battle, then...?” You ask.

“Something like that,” he says simply enough, but it reads rather ominously to your ears.

You pause as you follow him, trying your best not to sound too afraid. You hope no enemies from this past battle still sneak about...

“So it’s just you and I, here…?”

He turns on you slowly, and a familiar dread rises in your gut as you realize you’ve angered him once again. Unfortunately for you, you’re not sure how. His features appear natural and still, but what you are feeling under your skin hints at the truth to his demeanor. You catch a hint of fang as he speaks, and you wonder if it’s intentional.

“Yes. Does that suit your plans?”

You hesitate, unsure.

“I…’plans’? I don’t—“

“—Allow me to assist you. Silver is a trifle. Stakes are laughable. Garlic does nothing, and no holy symbol nor water—no matter what wayward priest you find to bless it—will help your cause. Sunlight is a pleasure to my skin, which heals from fire, knife wounds, and all other maladies in conception, if you even manage to pierce it. If a Belmont had trouble making me bleed, you surely will. The few things that I am susceptible to, are magic, decapitation, and stakes, but then again, who isn’t? I implore you to try though, and wish you luck. Believe me, you will need it.”

Like before, as if you’ve been transported back behind the walls of books, he is upon you, and you cannot help but tremble. The ruby red is back, flickering just behind his sunstorm eyes. You are beside yourself but you do your best to think quickly as to what nonexistent offense he’s percieved.

‘Does he think I mean to kill him? How even could he assume such a thing…? From me, of all people...?’

“I do not wish to make an attempt on your life,” you say slowly, clearly. “My magic is very poor, but not my behavior towards hosts kind enough to allow me in their homes.” You put a heavy emphasis on the ‘host’ portion, hoping to remind him of his promise from before.

“Enlighten me then,” he asks in a tone that seeks anything but enlightenment. “Why do you want to know if we are alone, if not to better plan something that would require isolation?”

You find yourself frowning.

“You…you completely misunderstand me, sir…” you begin, stepping back. “I just…I asked if we were alone because….I…I…”

Something in your face must call out to his reason, because the red drains out from his eyes and he steps away, reeling back. The grieved look returns.

“You’re afraid,” he realizes suddenly, aloud. “You want to ensure nothing else lurks in these walls.”

You nod, happy to be comprehended, for once.

“Yes,” you insist. “The damage from the battle...I see it, and I think that your foes were very strong. I only hope they were all defeated and that it is just you and I here, alone, sir—er, Alucard.”

He nods, looking somewhat embarrassed now.

“It is only us, in these walls.”

You sigh happily, glad to have your fears discarded. The castle was still scary and intimidating of course, as large as it was. It felt as though something had to be tiptoeing somewhere around in the fortress, yet...he would know the place better than you, wouldn’t he...? And if he says its just you two, then hopefully that is so.

“Good,” you sigh. 

He makes no move at the sound of his name in your mouth, but he does think on your words before bowing his head ever so lightly.

“I apologize,” he admits. “I keep...jumping to conclusions. I made you fret after giving my word. Forgive me.”

You watch him with pleasant surprise, the corner of your mouth quirking up. 

So there were manners somewhere in there.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sure you must have had a rough go of assassins, being who you are and all.”

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, before turning to advance through the corridor. You don’t have time to think about his ‘share’, trying to keep up. You know he can move far faster than he is showing now, and you appreciate the effort he makes to go at a human pace so that you may follow closely behind. 

Deep down, you are still worried about what lays in the castle. You do feel safer, knowing something supernatural like him is at your side, and vowed to make sure no harm befalls you.

“Well,” you continue conversationally, trailing after him, “thank you for soothing my concerns. I feel all the safer for it.””

“...Odd,” he comments. “Hm?”

“You, feeling safer alone in Dracula’s castle, with a dhampir.”

You chuckle.

“I suppose it is odd when you put it that way. Just work on that temper of yours, and I’ll really be right as rain!” The jest is funny enough for you, but it doesn’t land so well with your present company.

He scowls, but the real heat is gone. Energized from knowing he is bound by promise and that there are no others here, you feel bold enough to place an assuring hand on his arm. 

He feels strong and solid, like stone. He stiffens before pulling away, peering down at you.

You try your best not to look too hurt. You smile assuringly instead.

“Believe me, Alucard. I’m not here to try and do you in. I mean, look at me! You think I’m foolish enough to attempt such a thing on you when I could hardly handle that crowd of ruffians outside?”

You laugh then, slapping a hand on your leg. It is the bare one from the rip in your dress, and the smack is much louder than you anticipate. It’s enough to silence you into meek embarrassment.

Alucard simply watches you before turning around and leading you on.

You follow him silently now, and you quickly find that the tour is rather lacking. He says little about the winding halls you are led through, and you can’t help but wonder the stories of each hallway, of each room. Will you ever learn of them?

The place is monstrous, and so the soles of your feet are a bit sore by the time you reach what Alucard regards as your quarters.

“You will stay here,” he gestures past a large emblemed door into a wide room. 

You peer inside, finding a beautifully canopied bed, heavy curtains attached to what you can only assume is a gigantic window. There is a large bookcase, a fireplace, an armchair, a desk, and a small door leading into another room. 

“That is your bathing room,” he notes.

When you stare at him curiously, he explains.

“My father possessed immense technological advancements,” he says quickly, as if he’s explained it several times before. Perhaps he has.

‘So his father is Dracula,’ you think. ‘But the stories of Dracula were much more…gruesome and cruel. If this is his son...this man is certainly scary when roused, but…’

His deep voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“The washing room has a basin called a ‘tub’. There is also a bidet with a smaller basin called a toilet. No need for outhouses or bringing up jugs of water here. We have plumbing.”

Now, you’re utterly confused.

Alucard sighs.

“Just…follow me. I’ll show you.”

You do just that and watch, engrossed, as your host thoroughly lays out and points to every faucet, knob, and all of their uses. Before long, you ascend from a common traveling woman to an expert in an alternate world knowledgeable on things such as ‘plumbing’.

You beam at the tub and sink, too giddy with joy to hide it. You bounce a little, your hands drawing to your chest excitedly.

Alucard levels a raised brow at you, pausing.

“...Are you alright?”

You nod happily, twirling in the bathroom to face him.

“This place is incredible! Plumbing! Who would’ve thought? There was almost something like this I saw over the Eastern seas, but the people there called them…acq..acqueducts! They were these large beams that delivered their water…oh, but no matter! My hair! Goodness, it will be leagues easier…”

Alucard glances at your crown of curled, kinky locks before refocusing on you.

“How did you manage, before?”

“Oh, ponds. Streams. Rivers. The seaside. That sort of thing,” you say absently. “The chill of the water did wonders for my mane, but I felt like an icicle the entire time. And you say I can have heated, freshwater through these devices? I can’t lie, I’m ecstatic!”

Alucard nods shortly at that, watching you curiously, but seemingly unable to share your interest in the fixtures. Perhaps you’re more of an interest for him at this point than the plumbing. You eyeball his own healthy mane and assume he’s long been used to such luxuries.

“Oh, but…can I wash my garbs in the tub, too?”

Alucard tilts his head at that before realization sparks in his eyes.

“No. No, you’ll wear something else. That’s fairly ruined.”

You silently leave out the part that it is partially his fault, but he seems to catch on anyway.

“I…” he tries stiffly. “I apologize again. For before.”

“Oh?” You respond innocently. “For what? Scaring me? Yelling at me? Threatening my life? Tripping me?”

He sinks a little lower with each act. 

“All of it.”

“Oh! Well, then you’re forgiven. As much as I appreciate the apology, I have a feeling that this ‘tub’ will more than make up for it.”

Alucard seems to relax at that, showing you the cabinets with everything you’ll need.

“I’ll…” he trails off. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out to gently grip the tuft of white blouse peeking out from his sleeve. He turns, watching you sharply. 

He does not pull away, though. You call it progress.

“Alucard,” you say. “Thank you for your hospitality. Sincerely.”

He looks to the floor instead of your eyes—as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—before gently pulling away and wordlessly leaving the room.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

You are lucky enough to find interesting soaps and good-smelling candles before working the bath. With some maneuvering and much delight, you are able to conjure bubbles through use of items you’ve scavenged from the cabinets. You find washcloths, sponges, brushes, and an assortment of other things.

You want to wait for your host to return first, but as the minutes continue to pass you realize you need to take advantage of the hot water before it cools.

You shed your clothes, undo your hair, and step into the water-filled basin.

“God…” you whisper, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It feels incredible.

You sink into the water, a smile on your face. You haven’t felt something this good since traveling to hot springs in your more daring adventures. Back then, you had to evade the cultist locals for a hint of heated water. This was so different, as it was your own personal hot spring whenever you desired!

You sink deeper into the water for a bit before beginning to scrub and lather your journey off of you. You decide to empty and fill the tub once more, just because you can, and bathe a little more before feeling pristine to your liking.

Stepping out, you massage in some leftover body oil from your pack. You clean the basin before peeking out into your room.

There is no one present, but a new, soft nightdress lays comfortably on the chair. Your fireplace is even lit.

You smile to yourself as you step out and lift the nightdress, assessing it.

“So his bark is louder than his bite,” you decide aloud.

You change swiftly, and despite being in such an strange situation, once in the massive bed, you find sleep has come right on your heels. Your eyes almost slide shut until you hear a knock at your door.

You open your eyes and slip out of bed. You push open your door—which has a heavy lock, you now realize—to see Alucard, in low lantern light, gazing back at you.

“I trust you found everything,” he says, rather than asks. You hear the question for what it is.

“Yes,” you smile. “Thank you.”

He considers your expression for a long moment before nodding his affirmation.

“Hm. Very well. There is a lock on the door of your room…if that’s any consolation to any fears you may have. Feel free to use it. Good night then,” he says, turning to leave.

“Alucard?” You call.

When he waits for you without turning to face you, you speak.

“Where will you be staying?”

‘If I need you,’ you think. 

You soon realize that this may become a situation where Alucard hears something in your speech that is not really there. With a solemn look, and the absence of an anger just as disturbing as its presence, he points to a door just down the hall from you. You would be pleased if not for the expression on his face.

“Just there,” he says. 

You realize that due to the two misunderstandings being him assuming you want to kill him, that this is likely what this third time revolves around. 

“Alucard,” you try, “I don’t intend to condescend, but you must know, I only ask for my own concern. I’m happier to know that my host is nearby. I meant no ill will by it. I’d be a poor assassin, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, as if he really is just recalling it. “I remember.”

“You’d hear me before I even entered, I bet!”

“I would.”

“So there is nothing to worry about…right…?”

His stiff shoulders finally seem to relax an inch. 

“I suppose. In any case…You are not to enter my domain, under any circumstances, outside of imminent danger. It would be…unwise of you.”

You nod, unsure of what exactly he means but positive he that he does mean what he says.

“I will see you in the morning...?” 

He pauses at that, looking somewhat bewildered. 

“I…yes, you will.”

“Alright!” You nod, pleased. “Good night then.”

Closing the door, you turn to the large, firelit room and beam.

It is a princess’s quarters…no, a queen’s! You will live lavish while you’re here, it seems.

You lay on the soft mattress under the thick covers, knowing pleasure you’ve never felt before until sleep takes you gently into the night.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

When you wake, it is before the sun has fully broken into the sky. Pretty blues and pinks spill across the sky outside your window, so different from the cold colors of the day before. Rising in your nightgown, you spy a dress on the chair of your room. Alucard must have entered in your sleep. Had you locked the door...? You cannot recall. Under normal circumstances, traveling on the road, you would have never forgotten such a thing as utilizing a lock. For some reason, perhaps last night you felt you didn’t need to. 

You absently palm your neck for pinpricks of the vampiric sort, and find nothing.

‘Good enough for me, then.’

The dress lays before you, waiting

It is different, without any tears, and deep in its color. You pause before adorning it, turning this way and that in the looking glass before attempting to do something with your hair. 

‘I look rather stunning in this. Why does he have such nice women's clothing lying about, I wonder...?’

Once complete, you decide to do something as equally nice for your host as this dress was for you.

“Breakfast! I’ll make us breakfast. Dhampirs can eat food, right…? Now, if only I could find the kitchen…”

You spy your basket by the door. Another gift from your late-night visitor.

You pick up your newly returned basket from the room’s entrance, flipping over the blanket to spy your stolen vegetables still intact. 

You leave your rooms with a smile that slowly falls.

‘He said not to disturb him…perhaps I can find the kitchens myself? They must be on the first level, maybe the underground chambers, if anything. That’s how all castles are. I’d better start now if I hope to finish in time.’

You’re certain you will get lost, but you have a feeling that your host can easily find you again.

You pause, realizing something.

‘I hope I don’t find bottles of blood or something lying around…or something else’

On that sobering thought, you strap your dagger’s hilt tighter to your thigh. Alucard said you were both alone, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant.

You venture out and do your best to recreate the inverse of Alucard’s path to the great hall. After several turns and rerouting, you finally begin to recognize the way back to the grand hall. It takes far longer than you anticipated, and your soles begin to complain a little once you find the grand staircase.

With some exploration on the main floor, you finally come across a door leading into what appears to be a small kitchen. The floors are clean as are the pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the walls. You spy plenty of utensils, knives, and what appears to be another basin...plumbing. You will ask Alucard the name later.

You set down the basket, pleased to have reached your goal, and get to work.

“Can’t have just a vegetable scramble. He’s a literal dhampir, and I could use some protein.”

You can't find any aprons about, and so you wrap what looks to be a tablecloth around your pretty dress. No reason to ruin it with the trials of breakfast.

You hunt for eggs, meat, nuts, and anything of the protein type. After some pillaging, you are able to find all three and get to work. The eggs are small, and the meat is fox, rabbit, and fish instead of the typical villager fare of cows and pigs, but you make it work. You wash your hands and begin to carve out fillets, prep vegetables from your basket, and luck upon some spices. You search for oil, but can only find butter, and so you do your best with it.

Soon enough, the kitchen begins to fill with the scents and fumes of a bountiful breakfast. You plate the spiced eggs, the braised meat, the sautéed vegetables, and fill a pitcher with water. You think about finding the secret garden nearby once more to perhaps make juice from berries and fruits, or even preserve. Turning to the wood table, you set everything down before finding your final item.

The loaf of bread is well hidden, but not well enough. It is a little stale, but not enough to discourage. You claim it and cut it before setting it out on the table as well.

Turning to wash your hands one final time, you are unsurprised to find Alucard stalking in the doorway of the kitchen when you turn back around.

“What are you doing...?” he grouses, clearly just having recently awoken.

“Cooking us breakfast,” you sass, “you’re welcome, by the way. Oh, uh...you can eat food, right...?”

Alucard’s sleepy demeanor slowly fades as he nods, his interest growing as the smells of food clearly begin to assault him and cause wonders for his mood.

“Well?” You say, undoing the tablecloth-apron and taking a seat for yourself. “What are you waiting for? Sit with me, let’s eat!”

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. ☾ next. 

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

[azucanela]

chapter iv

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

warnings: mentions of blood. violence. injuries. cursing. 

word count: 2k

[series masterlist] [wattpad] [ao3]

THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM. Y/N really doesn’t want to be dealing with this right now, this is literally the last thing she wants to be dealing with right now. She has half the mind to just disappear into the shadows using Telen’s quirk, seeing as she hadn’t returned it yet. 

‘Returned’ probably isn’t the best way to put it, after all he can still use his quirk but… she’s never really had a different way to explain it. But, Y/N is capable of using his quirk until she’s returned it to him, meaning his pain is hers and so is his quirk for the time being. Not that it matters right now, because she’s currently staring down Bakugou, who looks just as shocked as she does. 

“What are you doing here?” She finally asks, scowling. 

In response, Bakugou is rolling his eyes, allowing the door to shut behind him. “You don’t own this café,” he grumbles out.

That was actually incorrect, Y/N had bought the set of buildings on this street to make sure that the café wouldn’t go out of business, she was sentimental in that manner Meaning she technically had authorization to kick him out, something Bakugou seems to catch onto as his eyes narrow at her, “of course you do.” 

Y/N scoffs, looking away from him, “only legally. I have too much respect for Rosalyn to tell her what to do with her business.” She waves him off, “they’re getting something from the back, you’ll have to wait.” Y/N finds that she’s wishing she had a little bit less respect for Rosalyn, because maybe then she would have the guts to kick Bakugou out.

Bakugou says nothing, simply eyeing Y/N as he moves to grab a bag of chips from the stand, awkwardly standing by the cash register he waited for them to return. Of course, Y/N had a feeling they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon at this point. She wouldn’t be shocked if Lily had done something to make this happen, all to torture Y/N.

Although Lorelai might consider this the perfect time to apologize, Y/N finds it her personal hell. And she’s fairly sure Bakugou has the same sentiments as she begins to tap her foot rhythmically against the floor. The space is silent aside from that, and Y/N almost wishes a stranger would come in and end her misery.

A sudden pain courses through her, and Y/N’s brows furrow as her mouth gapes open slightly, hand coming to her stomach, though her thoughts are interrupted as Bakugou snaps, “could you quit tapping your damn foot?”

And Y/N does stop, but not because he asked, instead to say, “you can always leave.” There’s a sarcastic smile on her face as she glances at him, preparing to continue tapping her foot despite the throbbing that had appeared in her leg as well. 

If Y/N had to guess, something had happened to Telen. But that wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary in hero work, and given how high profile Hawks’ agency was, they had a healer on call. She had no doubt that whatever injury he’d somehow sustained, he would be fine. And yet, Y/N can’t help the frown that washes over her, a certain fear and anxiety that definitely doesn’t belong to her suddenly drowning her senses. 

Y/N is about to make a phone call when she hears Bakugou, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She’s about to make some sort of witty comment in response, only to see that he’s looking outside, where the presence of paparazzi has become apparent. Though they hadn’t started their mobs yet, any trained Pro Hero was well aware when they were being followed. Despite attempts to hide, Y/N could easily see that there were several people hidden throughout the area, trying to catch pictures of the famed Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki together.

They were probably hoping the pair would start arguing, maybe even get into a physical fight knowing Bakugou. Though, if that did happen, Y/N was fairly sure Lorelai would have her head. 

That and the fact that the shippers on Twitter were going to love this. But Y/N certainly wasn’t, scoffing as she came to a stand, “did they follow you here?” Her tone is accusatory, she knows that. But if Y/N is honest, she has no shame being upfront about her emotions with Bakugou, not anymore. 

He glares at her once more in response, placing his order down more roughly than necessary, “obviously not. If anything it was you they followed here.”

Y/N comes to a stand, inhaling deeply as she reminds herself that she and Bakugou are currently the stars of the show that is the media. Everyone who's anyone, and anybody that’s a nobody wants to bear witness to their interactions if it means advancing their career. And Y/N has no intent of further damaging her reputation, or giving the media the easy way out.

Though she wouldn’t mind putting an additional dent in Bakugou’s already horrid reputation, there were bigger things than that. And at the end of the day, they were stuck together for the time being, until things died down that is.

So, Y/N finds herself heading over to the counter with her items in hand– discarding them behind the register to make sure that Lily would hold onto them for her— before looking to Bakugou, “we need to leave, now.”

Bakugou is frowning, eyes falling on his order, but he simply nods as he returns his gaze to Y/N, “and how do you suppose we do that?”

While she’s grateful he elected not to argue— probably because he’s well-aware of his own dwindling reputation and wants to salvage whatever he can, like the selfish bastard he is— Y/N finds herself narrowing her eyes at him, simply turning around and gesturing for him to follow her, “come with me.”

“What, we can’t just go out the front door?” 

She’s not shocked by his proposition, though Y/N is also aware that Bakugou isn’t a fool. He may be impulsive at times, and extremely confrontational to a fault, but he was not an idiot. Even if he seemed to be just some annoying brute.

Y/N glances back at Bakugou, looking to him incredulously, “the moment we step outside, we will be bombarded with questions.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “and we both know how you’ll probably respond to that.”

“Oh so this is my fault?” He asks, taking a few steps closer. 

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N looks up to him, “we don’t have time for this.” Comes her response, “either you come with me, or I leave without you.”

With that, Y/N turns on her heel, hand shoved into her pocket as she pulls out a set of keys and begins to flip through them in search of the right one. She can feel Bakugou’s eyes on her as she finally finds the right key, the one that leads to the hallway behind the second staff door. Most people don't have access because if you take a wrong turn you’ll end up in the studio apartment of the owners. But, if you continue down the hallway, there’s an exit into the alleyway that Y/N intended to take.

Finally, she pushes the door open. Y/N doesn’t bother to look back as she steps inside the hallway, dimly lit, in fact some of the lights are even flickering. But she can see the bright red ‘EXIT’ sign not too far away. 

Y/N doesn’t hear the door click shut, and with a sigh she turns back to see Bakugou had planted his foot in the door, kicking it open while his hands remained shoved into his pockets. Wordlessly, he stepped inside, and Y/N simply returned her gaze to the exit.

Until another spike of pain coursed through her. Her steps falter, though Y/N manages to catch herself on the wall, hand planted firmly there as she inhales deeply. 

To be fair, the average person would’ve passed out from the pain by now, and Y/N didn’t have her hero suit to help cushion the blows of pain nor was she necessarily prepared for sudden pain— she wasn’t in battle. Though her pain tolerance is high enough that it's manageable.

Bakugou seems to notice, no— he definitely notices. Looking to her pensively as he pauses behind her, Y/N doesn’t want to meet his eyes as she huffs, pushing off the wall. ��Let’s go.” 

He says nothing, and Y/N is grateful as they continue down the hall.

It’s a short walk to the actual exit, but Y/N’s head is pounding so she doesn’t really notice anything out of the ordinary until Bakugou’s arm comes to stop her. She bumps into it, frowning as she looks up to him ready to speak in protest, to yell at him for touching her— though there's no skin to skin contact so she doesn’t really have much to worry about yet. 

Until she realizes blood is coming from under the door. Evidently, she had a lot to worry about.

Y/N looks up to Bakugou, offering him a nod that he returns. A silent communication between the pair which brings Bakugou to press his separate hand against the door, brows drawing together before he rapidly pushes the door open and the pair steps out into the alley.

And there lies the body of Pro Hero Telen. Y/N recognizes him instantly, and it makes sense given how badly her body is throbbing with pain. 

Her mouth gapes open, but Y/N is no fool as her back meets Bakugou’s, each of them surveying the area for the hero’s attacker. 

But there’s no one to be found. 

Y/N looks back to Bakugou, who simply nods, prompting Y/N to drop to her knees despite the blood that begins to seep through her clothes. Eyes falling on Telen as a hand comes to his chest. Nobody has ever died while Y/N was using their power, and if Y/N had to guess, Telen was still alive. There was no need for her to check for a pulse, simple as that. 

“He’s alive. Call for backup.”

When Bakugou doesn’t reply, Y/N turns, and she can see the explosions sparking in his palms but there are no enemies nearby. But Y/N recognizes the look on his face, the frustration, the anger. But he’s not angry with anyone other than himself right now. 

“Bakugou.” She repeats, an attempt to pull him out of his thoughts. They don’t have time to be distracted right now. While the attacker clearly isn’t around right now, there was a possibility he’d return. Not that Y/N was too worried, if they had any sense of bloodlust, she’d notice them.

He inhales sharply, simply nodding stiffly once more before pulling out his phone. But all Bakugou can think about is the fact that the Stain Copycat was here, and they’d targeted a member of Hawks’ Agency. The Number 2 Hero. Which meant whoever it was, they were getting bolder, and even worse, two of the best upcoming Pro Heroes were just next door and they hadn’t even noticed.

Even if the new Hero Killer had failed to finish the job, it didn’t matter. This would be a sign to all. A bad one. A message even. It felt as though this copycat was mocking him with every move. 

The only thing that Y/N can think about, is how dark this alley is, how easy it should’ve been for Telen to escape from his attacker. Which can only mean one of two things, the perpetrator had done something to prevent Telen from escaping into the shadows. Or, it was someone he trusted enough that he hadn’t felt the need to. Not until it was too late, that is. 

This was a problem. A big problem.

note: short but eventful chapter? and look at me go, updating on an actual schedule thats a first!

[jesslockwood]

rakes | chapter two

pairing: regency!Harrison Osterfield x regency!reader

words: 2.1k 

warnings:  bridgerton s1 spoilers, swearing, mentions of sex

a/n: this took me forever to write because i wrote the ending ish and I have even the whole end part planned out lmao. now I just need to write up to it lmao. 

Please Reblog and Like if you enjoy!

series masterlist

You awoke startled, sweaty, and with tears streaming down your face. It had been from a nightmare, of your first season’s debut. You knew that things could not go as horribly wrong that night did, yet, you were afraid deep down it might. 

You could never forget the piercing scream that rang through your body as you watched helplessly, your worst unknown nightmare becoming real in front of you, and being able to do nothing for your parents. 

After sitting in your bed for what seemed like hours, you decided to get dressed at the start making a list of what you had to do in haste to get ready for the season’s rush.

There was so much to do and so little time, so you knew one worry could be put at ease if you planned it all out. At least then your mind would hopefully quiet down the thoughts in your head. 

Sitting near the window with it open, you watched the sunrise, wondering how your dear William was doing. You had left hastily, not even with a goodbye to him. It was too painful to be in Grosvenor square where all your fondest memories had been with your deceased parents. He was of course in those fond memories, yet it was too painful as you saw your father in him, and the man he became because of your father being a parental figure to him.

You wondered how he was handling being the earl, especially without the guidance or help of anyone. Especially since your presence is missing. You wrote to him all the time, yet he had no return address to send it to so you knew not much of how your dearest sibling was doing.

You knew not much of duty of being a man and running an estate and the burden weighed on society of being an earl, yet you knew the pressures and gossip and betrayal all too much so you knew it could not have been easy. 

You only wished as much that you could have stayed for William, yet you knew your body would not let you stay as the fear would crawl into your bones, rotting you into some sort of insane spinster. 

You stretched your body out after sitting for too long on the uncomfortable chair, deciding it was time to head on out- “the earlier the better”- you thought.

As soon as you stepped out into the hall you had turned, and collided with a strong torso, almost falling to the ground. Strong arms had caught you before you took a nasty spill. 

“Pardon me-” you whispered quietly, as you then realized the close proximity of you and the man that had caught you, his face very close to your own. 

He looked disheveled slightly, with his golden locks out of place slightly, and a small amount of dusting of freckles that adorned his face. His icy blue eyes had been staring into yours, almost too cold to even look into, yet you felt a sense of curiosity to capture the color of them in your mind. You also had noticed the closeness of your bodies in this very moment, almost too scandalous to even think of in society’s ton. 

“Apologies, Miss.,” he said with a slightly crooked smile that could make any woman melt at this moment. 

He helped you regain your balance on your own two feet, before heading towards the stairs, giving you a lopsided smile again, nodding at you, and went downstairs.

You were almost too stunned to move from the interaction. You had never been as close as that to a man in your life. It gave you a small chill down your spine, even thinking about him, the mystery man. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your maid, Lucy, was walking out of the adjacent room to yours. 

“Madam, shall I fetch the carriage?” she asks you politely, suddenly snapping you out of your entranced state. 

“Yes, we should get going.”

Arriving at the Bridgeton home was, interesting to say the least, in a good way. It had been around noon, after your stop at the modiste, picking up dresses for the most -well- dreaded season, and you had been welcomed by most of the Bridgerton ladies in the drawing-room, embraced by Violet, asking for your time heading to their home. It was quite a shock as the chaos yet love could be felt in the room, as whom you were assuming the two youngest were arguing of some hair ribbon, and two of the other elder brothers of Daphne’s were in some heated debate about god knows what, and one sister was writing in a journal of some sort as the other played the pianoforte. 

“Welcome dear, to our home. I apologize in advance for the chaos, we are getting ready for Elosie’s first season, and our masquerade ball.”

“No need to apologize, Lady Bridgerton. Thank you for letting me stay until William gets in tomorrow. I just couldn’t stay in the house alone.”

“Please call me Violet! And any friend of my family is welcome here. Children, This is Lady Y/L/N.”

“If I am to call you Violet I insist you all call me Y/n” she smiles warmly towards you, “Eloise, could you please show Y/n to her room, I’m sure she is but tired from her journey.”

She comes out of her trance of writing responding to her mother, “Of course Mama.”

As you walk out of the drawing-room with her she looks as if she’s in deep thought. 

“I have so many questions to ask of you! How were you able to travel? I only thought men such as my brother could do so, yet here you are!”

“Well when my parents passed, I just- well, couldn’t stay here, so I ventured off with what my bro- erm, cousin, William had given to me. I went to visit some other cousins in France and had gone off to other parts of Europe. It was better than I had ever imagined. But now my duty is to my family, and the adventure has stopped, for now at least.”

You had stopped walking when you reached a door, that you assumed was your room.  

“That is incredible, I shall wait to ask more of you, later on of course.”

“Why don’t you show me the grounds and I shall tell you more, right now, and you can tell me about yourself, Eloise.”

Her face lit up.

“I would quite enjoy that!”

After walking around their grounds, you had sat on the swings on a tree, telling her all about your adventures, and she told you about herself and even told you quite a bit about Lady Whistledown and her venture in trying to find the writer behind the pen. It had been a few hours, probably nearing dinner time, but you felt at ease with Eloise. At least, you knew you had a friend in her, that hated society almost as much as you,

“I cannot believe you went in the ocean on the beach! Most ladies here would assume it unlady-like!”

“Well, I am especially not one for lady-like behavior! Especially structured by vicious mamas!” you both laugh together at that comment. Oh how you both knew of the shocking behavior of the ton’s mamas. 

“I believe we should head in now, Dinner will soon be ready, and I can only assume you are starving since we only had biscuits earlier.”

You both get up stretching your legs lightly, before heading indoors. 

You felt warmth sitting at the dinner table, though not typical, it felt like they truly loved each other, and actually enjoyed each other as a family, something you had longed for from your own family, especially for William’s sake.

William had never felt like he belonged in your family, at least not fully. The warmth you and your parents tried to give to him almost did not get through his thick skull, that you had accepted him as an esteemed member of the family. You had always wondered if it was because his true father never accepted him until he needed him to fulfill his wants. 

“So, Y/n are you excited for the season?” Anthony cuts through his current conversation, to include you. 

“Probably something of the sort. I am quite intrigued to see how people have changed.”

“Well, most have not, especially the men.” 

You laughed slightly at that. 

“Well do tell whom to stay away from.” you joke.

“If you have not read the most recent lady Whistledown I assume you don’t know.”

“I’m not quite sure I’ve ever heard of a Lady Whistledown?” you question, curiosity getting to the best of you. 

“Lady Whistledown is a gossip writer, under a pen name, whom, however, mentions people in the ton in name, by name in full.” Eloise cuts in.

You raise a brow quizzically. That was unheard of. 

“She mentions you in her most recent edition” Hyacinth mentions, before going back to throwing peas strategically when her mother wasn’t looking at her brother Gregory.  

“I’m sure Eloise has it if she hasn’t already shown you.” now you were fully intrigued. There was truly only one main thing you thought the writer could write about.

“She wrote about Lord Holland today, and might I say he is pretty dreamy.” Francesca pipes up, before earnings glare from Anthony and a kick from Eloise.

“Ow!” 

“If I didn’t do it, Anthony would have and he kicks harder.” 

You giggle at the family’s interactions. You only hoped you could have one as close as the Bridgertons.

“I see we are quite the entertainment for our guest tonight. I guess there’s no need for Eloise to get on the pianoforte. God knows I’m in motion for that.” Benedict adds before earning a kick from Eloise as well. 

“Ow!”

“Back to the topic at hand, I’d stay away from Benedict for certain.” Eloise says, which erupts you five into a fit of giggles, before getting your end of the table gets a hard stare-down from Violet, almost as if to say ‘behave’.

“So I'm assuming other than Daphne missing, the letter C, Colin, must be the one travelling? Daph did mention he would be writing me asking about the best places to travel.”

“Yes, Colin is the one travelling, but was the letter system too obvious of whom is which?” Benedict asks in an amused manner. 

“I think it’s adorable, and if you must know I find it orderly.”

“Don’t tell my mother that, or she won’t stop talking about how ‘Lady Y/n complimented her naming system’.” Benedict jokes.

You laugh before you see Eloise bringing out what you assumed was the gossip sheet. She hands it to you before you read it over, turning slightly pale at the mentions of your family so intimately.

Harrison had made it into town earlier that afternoon, only to be wondering why Mama’s, and Ladies alike- married or not- had been whispering and pointing at him. On the other hand, he had been met with a warm embrace from his wonderful sister Charlotte, and loving Mother, Phil, only to be dragged by Charlotte for her to tell him to read the latest Lady Whistledown, a woman he knew he hadn’t heard of, nevertheless thought he’d fucked. 

He however listened to his sister and her worry, before being shell-shocked by what was on the page. 

“Charlotte what the hell is this? And who the hell wrote it?"

“Lady Whistledown is but the biggest anonymous gossip columnist, and everyone reads it. Haz what am I to do if no suitors show interest when I am eligible for marriage? What if I end up a spinster?!”

“Char, I won’t let that happen I promise you.”

Harrison was determined to make sure charlotte never had to worry. She was the most lovely of any woman on the market and he would make sure she had a shot. 

“Wait Osterfield, you’re saying, you’ll Woo whoever is the most desired by the queen and marry her?” Tom askes very confusedly as to what sparked this in his bestfriend.

“Yes Tom, That is my plan,” Harrison replies before taking a sip of his drink again.

The two men had reunited at the Bridgerton’s gentleman club, talking over Harrison’s not so genius plan, according to Tom.

“Do you know how many mamas loathe even the sight of you right now? Especially because of Lady Whistledown.” Harrison’s face scrunches up, cringing at that. 

“Yes, I know already. But if I can just get in the good graces of Lady Whistledown, then I know any mama will turn around! maybe if I form an attachment with someone she might see that I’m serious about marrying. Don’t you have that cousin? Zendaya?”

“That’s a terrible idea, Harrison. Also, Zendaya is now going to be under my care according to my mother. She told her father, who is ill,  I’d watch out for her during the season to find her a suitable husband.”

Harrison gets a mischievous, conniving look on his face as the gears turn in his brain. “I said suitable Haz! Her father would have a heart attack if you came near her!”

“Fine, but can you at least convince her to show interest in me to the other ladies? So I can find a wife?”

Tom rolls his eyes before downing his drink mentally hating the idea, but agreeing to try for his almost brother,  even if he didn’t think he’d find a wife.

Tags

crossed out  = couldn't tag

@spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @take-me-to-ny @queenofthepouges @minejungwoo @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27 @lolooo22​ @webmeupspiderdaddy​

[dubersbutt]

I have a couple ideas for the poly fic

1. Telling them you love them like when you first told Leon or whatever?

2. Stealing their clothes?

3. Them taking care of a hurt you?

Words: 1.4K

Warnings: none - all fluff

1) Telling Leon you love him

One of the first things Leon learns in your relationship is that you have really bad periods. He feels his heart ache every time he sees you curled up in bed or on the couch. Especially when you manage to lift your head long enough to ask for water and he can see the trails of tears on your cheeks. He and Connor have done extensive research into alleviating period cramps, but nothing seems you help you.

They keep a heat pad plugged in behind the bed so you can roll over and grab it during the night, but in the day you usually prefer to have one of them lay on your stomach - kinda like a weighted blanket.

Leon's sitting with you in his lap on the couch, your legs are wrapped around his waist tightly. He can feel your breath against his neck as he runs his hand over your back.

"You okay?" he asks after you haven't moved a muscle in about 10 minutes.

"Sometimes I manage to orient myself and my uterus calms down," you say, voice soft, "I'm afraid if I move I'll anger her."

He kisses the top of your head, settling deeper into the couch as he realizes he'll be there for a while.

"I'm sorry," you say, "If you want me to get up I will."

"Don't apologize," he says, "I'll stay here as long as you need me."

He meant it. He'd be your cuddle post as long as you wanted him to be there. Plus, if you were sleeping on him then Connor would have to be the one who has to go grocery shopping in -30º.

"I love you," he almost doesn't hear it, how softly you whisper the words, "And I'm not just saying this because I'm emotional. I-i've been wanting to say it for a while."

Leon's not a super emotional person, but he legit feels like crying.

"I love you to," he responds, "And I'm not just saying that cause you look like you're on your deathbed."

You laugh, lightly swatting him on the shoulder.

"Can you tell Connor to pick up cookie dough on his way home."

~~~

Connor has much less finesse.

Leon's watching him dance behind the wheel to some godawful country song you don't let him play when you're in the car. They're high off a BOA win, but they're both positively exhausted.

"I love you," Leon says once the song ends.

He laughs when Connor's eyes go wide as he processes what was just said. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as the panic takes over his face.

(If Leon hadn't known Connor so well he would've been scared he fucked everything up. You had even warned Leon in advance that Connor would probably be....extremely awkward at best. Connor had told you he loved you first, but not verbally. He bought a cake from the grocery store and a little tube of icing that he used to write 'I love you'. He didn't even tell you what he had done, just let you find the cake in the fridge after dinner.)

Connor clears his throat, "Cool."

"Cool?" Leon repeats, amused, "I just said I love you and that's all I get."

Connor coughs again, "Yup."

"Okay," Leon says, but rests his head against the car seat and closing his eyes.

A few moments later, Connor grabs Leon's hand and holds it on the gear shift.

"I-uh," Connor starts.

"You don't have to say it back," Leon says, rubbing his thumb over his hand, "I just want you to know."

"No-uh," he starts, "It's not that. It's-you know - I, uh. Feelings make me uncomfortable."

"Really?" Leon says sarcastically, "I never would have guessed."

The car ride is silent the rest of the way home, but not uncomfortable. Only Connor's atrocious country playlist keeping Leon from passing out.

When they finally pull into the garage, Connor shuts off the engine and closes the garage door before looking at Leon.

"I- uh, love you too," he stutters out, "I just- feelings make me feel icky."

2) Stealing clothes

"(Y/N)!," you hear Connor yell from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Con," you yell back

"Where is my black OVO hoodie?"

"I don't know, babe," you respond, still yelling and knowing full well you're wearing the exact hoodie he's asking for.

"It's not in my closet but I did my laundry last night," his voice is quieter now as he turns the corner of the kitchen where you and Leon are eating sandwiches.

"You did your laundry?" Leon asks between mouthfuls.

"Leon did my laundry," Connor clarifies with a roll of his eyes, "Thank you, Leo, I love you, Leo. You're the best boyfriend in the world, Leo."

"I know I am."

"Then why are you asking me?" you say, waiting to see if he'll notice what you're wearing. Connor was oblivious to both the massive hoodie that drapes your frame, and also Leon's smirk as he realizes what you're doing.

"You take my stuff all the time," he says, stealing a bite of Leon's sandwich.

"Not this time, Con," you reply, trying not to laugh.

"It was there last night, and poof it's gone," Connor's face wrinkles in thought, "I don't think I wore it last night."

"I'm fairly certain you were naked most of last night," Leon pipes up.

Connor turns a deep shade of red, "Shut up."

"Aw," you say, stretching on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, "I love that you get embarrassed talking about sex with the two people you have sex with."

"You're not funny," he says, trying to steal another bite of Leon's sandwich.

"Get your own," Leon exclaims, pulling away.

"I'm not that hun-" he stops short, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You turd!" he says pointing at his hoodie, "You're wearing my hoodie."

"Turd?" you exclaim, unable to control your laughter, "What are you 13?"

"You stole my hoodie and then didn't tell me you we wearing it," he says, exasperated, "That is prime turd behaviour."

"I want it back."

"Yeah," you ask, arching an eyebrow, "Come take it from me."

3) You being hurt

"I can't believe you broke your ankle tripping over Bowie," Leon says, shaking his head as he fluffs the pillow that's elevating your leg.

"First of all, it's a fracture," you say, "Second of all, your dog has no manners. He walked in front of me when I was bringing in the big delivery box -which you ordered ,we don't need patio furniture, it's winter Leon - and I didn't want to step on him."

"Don't blame my son," Leon says, indignant, "And the furniture was on sale."

"You make 8 million dollars!" you exclaim, "You can pay full price for some chairs."

~~~

"Connor," you call, using your pleasing voice, "Can you pretty please make me an iced coffee."

"Sure," he says, getting up from his spot beside you.

"Connor, no," Leon says, "She needs to start moving around, doctor said."

You pout at Connor, "But it always tastes so much better when you make it."

You're not even lying, for whatever reason Connor's always tasted so good even though he didn't do anything differently.

"Connor," Leon says, voice commanding, "you're coddling her."

"It's an iced coffee, that's hardly enough exercise to strengthen her ankle," Connor replies, pulling out your favourite Starbucks cup from the cupboard.

5 minutes later you wink at Leon as you take a sip of your perfect iced coffee.

~~~

"You have the audacity to say I'm coddling her," Connor exclaims in disbelief, "I made her an iced coffee. Look at you!"

So you had asked Leon to carry you from your office to the bedroom, but you probably would've done it even if you weren't injured.

"We have a lot of stairs. She said her foot was hurting," Leon shrugs, continuing his trek to the room, puppies trailing along behind him.

"Don't be jealous, Con," you call from over the railing, "Leo will carry you up the stairs too, if you ask nicely enough."

Connor just shakes his head, following you up the stairs. Leon lets you down on the soft carpet of your room and you hobble your way to the closet, ready to change into pyjamas. When you return to the master, Connor and Leon are already snuggled in the bed. You make your way to the bed as fast as you can.

"You little liar!" Leon exclaims, "You told me your foot hurt too much to walk up the stairs."

You shrug, taking your spot in the middle of the bed, "I stretched the truth so my strong, hot boyfriend would carry me. Sue me."

[ragingpancake]

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part One

Here’s the thing: Rodney is an actual pain in the ass. They’d be hard pressed to find anyone in two galaxies who didn’t agree with that assessment but most of the time, John doesn’t mind. He puts up with all of Rodney’s neuroses with a kind of fond indulgence but there’s really only so much that one man can take, even if that man is John Sheppard, McKay whisperer. The trek to the Carnean settlement is long and it’s hot and John isn’t feeling charitable the fifty seventh time that Rodney complains about the heat. He snaps at the scientist in a way that he almost never does, even Teyla and Ronon visibly reacting to the sting of his words. Later, once they’re back home and John doesn’t feel like he’s going to sweat to death, he’ll ply Rodney with some chocolate and coffee as an apology, but now, he’s grateful for the silence. -- The Carneans aren’t quite what John expected. Most of the planets they trade with are primitive in technology, and the ones more advanced are usually comprised of a bunch of dicks. Teyla had warned that they were a peaceful people, but deeply, deeply religious in regards to their technology, believing them to be gifts from their Gods. She said it as a warning mostly to Rodney, who had horrible manners on even the best of occasions, but was known to abandon all pretense of any sort of civility when it came to shiny, new ancients toys that he could get his hands on. He promised to behave though, looking a little bitterly in John’s direction, clearly still smarting from the reprimand earlier, but John still won’t let himself feel bad about that when the armpits of his black t-shirt are completely drenched, leaving him to feel sticky and gross and still annoyed. To his credit, John can tell that Rodney really does try to behave. He questions the Carneans about their energy source almost delicately, even as his handheld is going crazy in his hand, alerting them all to almost ZPM level energy signals coming from just beneath them. His resolve to be, well, Rodney is slowly starting to break though and even though John warns him twice, voice growing more agitated as the Carneans grow increasingly uncomfortable with Rodney’s line of questioning. “Rodney,” Teyla interjects, forcing a smile to her face though her eyes never leave their leader, Arrens. “Perhaps it would be best if we—” “No, no! You don’t understand! This energy source is—” He yelps as Ronon scruffs him, grabbing him by the back of his tac vest to stop him from venturing to the giant pillars before them, the ones that lead down to their most sacred chamber. “Perhaps we should return to the village,” Arrens says and his voice is even, though clearly laced with barely concealed disdain for the scientist. John’s about to joke that he’ll have to get in line with all of the other people in Pegasus that Rodney has annoyed when Rodney wiggles free of Ronon and starts for the temple entrance. “McKay!” John snaps again and this time, it’s him who reaches out for Rodney, grabbing him none to gently by the shoulder, squeezing not so hard enough to actually hurt Rodney, but to get his attention. It has its desired effect and John leaves Teyla to offer their profuse apologies as he and Ronon set off for the Jumper, dragging Rodney between them.

--- “What part of sacred temple do you not understand?” John barks, whirling around on the scientist as soon as they’re far enough away from the Carneans. “For someone as smart as you, you have absolutely zero common sense!” “But the energy source--!” “I don’t give a crap about the energy source, Rodney! We need their grains, you know that, and instead, you’ve jeopardized this entire mission!” John’s sure why he’s so angry, but he’s hot, he’s tired, and once again, they’ll have to go back through the Gate empty handed all because Rodney couldn’t control himself for a total of two seconds. “Sheppard,” Ronon grumbles as Rodney seemingly wilts in front of them, not used to being on the receiving end of John’s Colonel Sheppard wrath and for a second, he feels a little bit like a dick. He takes a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth and gestures to the Jumper. “Get in.” “Sheppard, I—.” “I said get in, McKay. We’ll have this discussion later.” --- They’ve only been back at the Jumper for about fifteen minutes when Teyla comes through the thick foliage and she doesn’t look nearly as put out as John expected. He knows that she’s been counting on those grains for the Athosian settlement too, but she seems in good spirits as they meet her at the ramp of the Jumper. “I have spoken to Arrens and explained Rodney’s… over excitement away as a bit of religious zeal. They were concerned at first that he might wish to desecrate their sacred temple, but they have been advised that he simply wished to learn more about their practices.” “That actually worked?” Ronon asks, eyebrow raised. “It is not uncommon for planets to simply trade knowledge, Ronon,” Teyla admonishes and she turns back to John. “They wish for us to join them for a meal so that we might continue talks of negotiation.” John glances at Ronon and then back to Teyla, gauging the situation before he finally turns his gaze to Rodney, leveling him with a glare. Rodney holds his hands up, handheld tucked away safely in his vest. “Best behavior, yes, I know. You’ll not hear a peep from me.” “I doubt that,” John snorts but he nods. “Alright then. And Rodney, if you so much as look like you’re going to mention that damn energy source, I’ll string you up myself. Clear?” “Crystal.” “Good. Let’s go.” --- The meal goes better than John expects, honestly. While Arrens still maintains a cool demeanor despite Teyla’s best diplomatic attempts to draw him into conversation, his son Atton speaks animatedly with both John and Ronon as Rodney finishes off his third bowl of stew. John has to cut him off from going back for a fourth as Arrens eyes seem transfixed on the scientist and Rodney’s already offended these people once today. John won’t allow him to do it a second time. “Lay off, McKay,” he mutters under his breath and Rodney whines like he always does when food’s involved. “But it’s good. When’s the last time we actually had a decent meal off-world? You think they do doggie-bags here? Maybe we can take it back home and the cooks can figure out how to—” Ronon elbows him in the side and Rodney doesn’t quite yelp but it’s a near thing and John figures the Carneans have probably had enough of Rodney for one day. Once again, John leaves Teyla to the niceties while Atton escorts the three men outside and it’s not long at all before Teyla joins them and they set off for the gate again. --- The walk back to the Jumper is much less miserable than it had been on the way to the settlement, for which John is eternally grateful. The sun is beginning to set, cooling the air and he finds himself much less agitated than he’s been for most of the day. Even the sound of Rodney gulping his water behind him isn’t enough to annoy him now, whereas earlier it very well might have sent John into a homicidal rage. “Did that stew leave a weird after taste with anyone?” He asks, and John rolls his eyes at that. “Nope, but we didn’t eat enough to feed an entire army.” Rodney huffs at that and tips his canteen up again,

frowning when he finds it empty. Teyla wordlessly passes her own to him, squeezing his shoulder gently, affectionately maybe, and John knows that while Rodney annoys the shit out of everyone they’ve ever met, he’s there’s and John isn’t the only one who is indulgently fond of Rodney. Even when he’s at his most annoying. --- Their return through the Gate is uneventful. Elizabeth is there to meet them when they arrive and John is feeling charitable enough now that he doesn’t even mention Rodney’s faux pas. He promises to have Teyla fill her in more on the trade agreement she’d been able to broker before he leads his team down to the locker room, Rodney strangely quiet the whole way. John’s about halfway through removing his gear when he glances over at Rodney, one eyebrow raised to find him sitting on the bench, still in his tac vest and thigh holster. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks, kicking Rodney’s boot gently with his foot to get his attention and Rodney startles, lifting his gaze to meet John’s. “What? Uh, nothing. Nothing, it’s just… my stomach feels a little…” He gestures vaguely and Ronon laughs behind them, clapping Rodney on the shoulder. “Must have been that third bowl. One of our commanders back on Sateda had a large appetite, but I think even you could out eat him, McKay.” “Gee, thanks,” Rodney frowns as John goes back to hanging up his vest, surreptitiously glancing over at the other to find that he does actually look a little green around the gills. “You wanna go see Beckett?” John offers after a moment. “No, no. Chewbacca’s probably right,” Rodney says as he unstraps his holster and stands, shrugging off his tac vest. “We all had the same thing, and you’re all fine.” John just shrugs. It’s not the first time Rodney’s eaten himself to a stomachache and he’s pretty sure it won’t be the last. “Alright,” he says, clapping Rodney on the shoulder, a little more gently than he’d been earlier in the day. “If anything changes though…” “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” “Alright. Debriefing in an hour. I’ll see you there.” “Yeah,” Rodney agrees. “See you.” John does not actually see Rodney later. At least not while he’s conscious. --- It happens really fast. Rodney doesn’t actually show up for the debriefing but that in and of itself is not really weird; he’s skipped more than one debriefing over the last few years, but there’s something gnawing uncomfortably in his gut anyway. They finish up and by the time they’re done, John thinks he’s probably just being a paranoid asshole, but he taps his comm, needing Rodney to confirm he’s good. “Sheppard to McKay, come in.” Silence. “Sheppard to McKay, Rodney, respond.” John glances over at Ronon and Teyla who have both been standing by, Teyla looking as worried as John feels and Ronon… well, Ronon looks pissed off, but John knows that that’s Ronon’s default when it comes to concern. “Sheppard to Zelenka, come in.” This time, his radio crackles immediately in his ear. “Zelenka here, go ahead Colonel.” “Hey Dr. Z, is Rodney down there?” John waits impatiently, but even before Radek answers, John already knows. “No Colonel, he is not here.” “I will check the infirmary,” Teyla says, squeezing John’s wrist. “Ronon, the mess. John, perhaps you should check his quarters. If Rodney was not feeling well, it’s likely he is in one of these three places.” “Yeah,” John nods. “Yeah, you’re right, okay. As soon as you find him, radio in.” They disperse quickly and John doesn’t mean to, but the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach twists and he realizes that at some point, he’d started to jog to the transporter to take him as close Rodney’s room as possible. “Sheppard to McKay,” he says again, a little breathless as he steps out of the transporter, “Rodney, I swear to God, you better be alright or I’ll kick your ass.” Even the threat of bodily violence doesn’t raise him and by the time John skids to a halt in front of Rodney’s door, he’s expecting the worst. He pounds on the door once, giving Rodney the

chance to open it, but when he hears nothing inside, he palms the door open to find Rodney face down on the floor, lying in a puddle of his own vomit. “No. No, no, no.” John closes the distance between them, calling for a medical team with barely concealed fear in his voice as he drops down to his knees, rolling Rodney over onto his side as he presses two fingers to the side of his neck. He can feel a pulse there but it’s rapid and thready. “Rodney, c’mon buddy. You gotta wake up, hey, hey, c’mon. Wake up, Rodney.” He’s babbling, he knows that, but he doesn’t know what else to do until he hears the sound of the medical team in the hallway, sprinting toward them, Teyla and Ronon both hot on their heels. “What happened?” Beckett barks as they spill into the room and John drops back on his ass, away from Rodney so that they can work. “I don’t… I don’t know, we just got back and he said he had a stomachache but he was fine and he--.” Ronon hefts John back to his feet, as Beckett assess the situation, calling down to the infirmary to warn them of their imminent arrival as Rodney’s lifted onto the gurney, his body sickeningly limp. “Did he ingest anything off world?” He calls over his shoulder, expecting them to follow, and they do, Ronon forcing John to keep moving. “Colonel!” Carson snaps when John doesn’t immediately answer as one of the nurses places the ambu bag over Rodney’s face. “We took part in a meal with the Carneans, but we were all served the same food,” Teyla answers for John when it becomes clear that he won’t, or rather, can’t. John can’t tear his eyes away from Rodney as his chest rises and falls only because of the bag forcing air into his lungs. “Blood pressure’s dropping!” Simpson announces as the doors to the infirmary open and the last thing they hear is Beckett cursing as the doors close in their faces. --- He should’ve forced him down to the infirmary. The moment Rodney gave any indication that something was off, John should’ve marched him down here himself, but Rodney had been a pain in the ass all day and-- John had figured he’d deserved a bit of a stomachache for as much trouble as he’d almost caused and if Rodney wasn’t okay, John would--. John had no fucking idea what he’d do. They’re sitting outside of the infirmary, John’s leg bouncing nervously, head cradled in his hands with Teyla and Ronon flanking him. Others had come when word began to spread, Elizabeth and Radek, even Lorne, posted near the door. It’s unsettlingly quiet, only the muffled sounds spilling through the doors to be heard. Their vigil seems to stretch on forever. Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into--. Honestly, John has no idea how long they’ve been here. Time has no meaning in this moment and while it feels like it’s been days, after what in reality was only thirty minutes, Beckett steps out, looking more grim than John thinks he’s ever seen him, including the time that John turned into a bug. “We don’t have much time,” he says, glancing to Elizabeth. “I need permission to move him down to the Stasis pods. His condition is rapidly deteriorating and without an antidote on hand--.” “Antidote?” Ronon interrupts, hand clenched into a fist at his side. “Are you saying McKay was poisoned?” “Aye,” Beckett answers shortly. “Elizabeth, his organs have already begun to shut down at an alarmingly rapid pace. If we delay this--.” “Go,” Elizabeth says at once and Carson is gone before there’s a chance to ask anything further. John doesn’t need to know anything else though. He stands, nodding at Ronon and Teyla to go gear up and without a single word, the two turn, reading his body language clearly enough. John will be right behind them, but first he needs to make sure Rodney gets to where he’s going. The doors open again, the medical team moving at a quick pace, but John keeps up with them easily, coming to a stop only once they reach the stasis chamber. Rodney is sickeningly gray now and if John didn’t know better, he’d think he was already gone. He reaches for the other’s

hand as Beckett and one of the nurses ready the pod and he squeezes Rodney’s fingers as he leans in close to his ear, willing Rodney to hear him. “I will fix this,” he vows, lips brushing the outer shell of Rodney’s ear. “I will burn that entire fucking planet down if I have to, but I promise you, I will fix it. Hang on, Rodney. Please.” “Colonel,” Beckett says, shouldering John bodily out of the way. “Get a move on, son. The stasis pod will keep his organs from shutting down any further, but I need that antidote if there’s any hope of bringin’ him back from this.” John does not need to be told again. --- Arrens is prepared for their return. There is a group of armed men waiting at the gate, Arrens standing unapologetically behind them. John wants to blow them all to pieces as soon as the Jumper clears the event horizon but Teyla reminds him as calmly as possible that doing so will make it impossible for them to find the antidote. Instead, he touches the Jumper down and they’re out, weapons raised. “You come to our village,” Arrens booms, “attempt to desecrate our templeand return to turn your weapons upon us?” “Give us the antidote and we will leave, never to return again!” Teyla responds, neither John nor Ronon moving to lower their weapons. “We did not intend to offend your Gods; Doctor McKay had no malicious intentions.” Arren is not moved, however, but there’s another, Atton, who steps forward, maybe to act as a liaison for his people, but it’s all John needs to move. It happens so quickly, that none of the Careans have an opportunity to fire as John grabs the boy, arm around his neck as Atton struggles, hands up in surrender. “Please, Colonel Sheppard--.” “Nothin’ personal, kid,” but John’s not leaving here without that antidote. “You have five seconds to give us what we’ve come for. Do not make me ask again.” “My… my bag,” Atton struggles, but John does not hear him as his grip tightens around his throat. “Release him at once!” Arrens bellows, and he steps forward, as if to charge them but Ronon aims his weapon, finger on the trigger and the man stops. “Arrens, please,” Teyla tries, “there need not be bloodshed between our two peoples! Gives us the antidote!” Atton hits John’s wrist, struggling against him, blunt nails digging into skin and he tries again. “B… a…” And then John spots it, the tiny vial that’s tumbled from the bag dropped by the boy when John grabbed him. “Ronon!” The Satedan surges forward, grabbing it at the same time John releases Atton, who falls to his knees, gasping for air. “If he dies,” John snarls, aiming his side arm at the leader of the Careans, almost begging the man to give him a reason,“there is no place in this galaxy that you will be able to hide.” “John,” Teyla pleads urgently, trying to usher him back towards the Jumper. “We must go. Rodney is in great need.” And it’s that reminder that snaps John out of it as he backs into the Jumper, Ronon already dialing. --- Even with the antidote, they have no way of knowing if Rodney’s going to make it. The damage to his insides was extensive; his kidneys had shut down completely and Carson warns that if he wakes up, there very well could be weeks, if not months of dialysis treatments. They still have no way of knowing if there was any damage to his nervous system, and they won’t know until he wakes up. Carson speaks in hypotheticals, using if instead of when and John finds that every time he does, he wants to scream. If he’d been less pissed at Rodney, if he’d paid a little bit more attention, he could’ve caught this. The increased thirst, back on the planet, that could’ve been their first sign that something was wrong and they could’ve-- He should’ve--. Whether Rodney wakes up or not, John knows that he’ll never forgive himself for this one.

---

In the end, Rodney does wake up. He does so quietly, without fanfare, alerting at first only John when Rodney squeezes his fingers gently where they’re linked through his own. He sits up from where his head had been pillowed on the bed at Rodney’s hip and for a moment, when he sees those blue eyes staring back at him, he can’t quite breathe. “John,” Rodney rasps, voice hoarse, a bit pained. “Where… what…?” “Hey buddy,” John greets, leaning back in his chair for a split second to signal to Marie before his gaze flickers back to Rodney’s ashen face. “You’re okay. You’re in the infirmary. You’ve been here for a couple of days.” A couple of days which felt uncomfortably like an eternity. Rodney’s eyes close again and for a second, John thinks maybe he’s slipped back into unconsciousness, which Beckett had previously warned could happen, but then Rodney’s blinking up at him. “The… the energy source,” he manages. “There was… ‘m sorry.” “Hey, hey,” John says and he scoots forward in his chair and John can hear Beckett approaching, knowing it won’t be long before John’s forced to give up his seat at Rodney’s side while he’s examined. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rodney.” And least nothing that Rodney should be sorry for. John, on the other hand… “You’re gonna be okay though. You hear me? You’re gonna be fine, I promise.” Rodney nods and closes his eyes again, clearly exhausted from the short exchange. Beckett steps in and John starts to pull back, to let the other work, but Rodney grips his fingers again. “Stay,” he rasps and John glances at Beckett who gives a barely there nod. “Alright,” he says, settling back down into his chair. “I’m here, buddy. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I promise.”

[hyuckssunchip]

Redemption Pt. 2

Pairings: Jungwoo x reader, ft. Johnny, Jaehyun, Mark

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), some angst

Summary:

Y/N finds Jungwoo in a compromising position weeks after their breakup. A list of misunderstandings leads to outcomes neither of them can bear to handle. Will the two of them be able to move past this and sort things out again? Or is there no room for redemption?

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The tickets from the movie of our first date

"Hey I'm sorry I'm late." There was a breathless voice that came from across the room. A boy in a grey shirt stood before his date and she blushed shaking her head.

You reached for another piece of popcorn, slowly chewing on the piece before sighing and reaching for another.

As the last call for your movie showed on the big screen you glanced at your watch again.

"Is this your movie?" He was tall, wearing a baby blue shirt and wore a thin pair of spectacles. Definitely not your blind date.

You sighed.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be."

"Supposed to be? You don't want to watch it anymore?" He asked, taking the seat in front of you.

"My date stood me up." You said bluntly, "I'm not really in the mood for a romance movie right now."

"How about murder mystery?" He flashed two tickets in the air, and sent you a sweet smile.

"Murder mystery? You don't really seem the type." You laughed, looking at the screen one last time. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that this is research and I kill people on my down time.”

You cringed at him.

“Okay, that was bad, I know. But don’t you pity me now? Now you have to join this loser for a movie date.” He smiled, his dimples on display.

You laughed standing up from your chair, “If you promise never to say stuff like that again, I’ll join you.”

“So it worked!” he fist pumped the air before skipping the way to the right theater with you in tow.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“I can’t believe that it was the police officer the whole time!” You spoke animatedly, genuinely shocked that you spent the majority of the movie liking the man.

“I know right! People are so crooked.” He said, shaking his head on disappointment. “But what a great plot twist right?”

“Yeah I thought for sure that it was the store owner. I mean who carries around a metal wedge like that?” You nodded enthusiastically, way too into the conversation.

Jungwoo laughed beside you. “So you don’t regret joining me?”

“Nope, I think I rather enjoyed myself.” You sent him a cheesy smile when you noticed that the two of you had already made it to the exit.

You didn’t want this to end quite yet.

Almost as if he sense your hesitation he spoke up. “How about dessert? There’s this fantastic ice cream shop just down the street and I’d love to treat you, y’know cause I just stole two hours of your time.” He grinned softly.

“I’d love that.” You couldn’t help the smile that was bursting to break free.

“Then shall we?” He asked in a fake posh manner, sticking out his elbow for you to grab onto.

“We shall.” You linked your arm and his and the two of you left for the shop.

The evening had started out sour, but like always Jungwoo managed to bring a little extra spark into your life. Imagine if he had never come up to you that evening, imagine if he had never stepped foot in that movie theater. You might’ve lost out on the most important thing in your life and never started your journey with Jungwoo. Where would you be now?

JUNGWOO’S POV

PRESENT DAY

The movie ticket of our first date.

The three boys looked down at the list and contemplated what they should do next. 

“Okay, how am I supposed to find movie tickets with the same movie and date?” Jungwoo groaned. “This isn’t going to work it’s just stupid.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. All we need to do is get comfortable with photoshop. Right? It’s not like it’s that hard to make a pretend movie ticket.” Jaehyun rested his hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder, “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will.”

“Do you atleast remember the movie? And date?” Mark asked, notebook already in his hands again.

“Of course I do. How could I forget?” The last bit he muttered under his breath, but still loud enough that the boys could hear him. 

They gave each other pitying looks.

“Right. Write it down then.”

Jungwoo’s hands moved on its own. 

“Dude! No way! That’s what you watched on your first date?” Mark couldn’t help but giggle at the title, earning a glare from Jungwoo and a shove from Johnny.

“Dude. Not helping.” Johnny shook his head at the youngest before turning back to Jungwoo.

“Sorry. It’s just that they’re making a sequel to that. It came out last week.”

Jungwoo cringed at the thought, vowing not to watch it.

“Was it good?” Jaehyun asked, more interested in the movie than the current situation.

“Yeah! God you would not believe the plot twist there. It was awesome, I would totally watch it again-”

Johnny shoved the two of them. “Guys, not important right now.”

Jungwoo had retreated back, heads in his arms again and sighed, hearing the others talk.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t know how you got yourself dragged to the movie theater in the middle of the week. It was Wednesday and it seemed like all of a sudden your friends decided that movie night could be moved up a few days.

“Popcorn?”

You nodded haphazardly in response to your best friend Jennie’s question. 

“Cool, I’ll wait in line, go ahead and go to the bathroom, I can see you squirming from here. I’ll meet you in the theatre.”

You sent her a look of relief, and rushed towards the bathroom. 

Staring at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, you couldn’t help but notice the large black circles under your eyes. You rubbed them once more before heading to the theatre. 

Jennie had picked out the movie, dragging you along and you pulled out the ticket that she shoved into your hands the moment you walked in the building. 

Theatre 2 B14.

That should be easy enough to find. Although your direction skills could always use improving.

You froze as you stood before your theatre, noticing the large poster next to it. 

No.

You recognized the familiar poster, same cast, give or take a few, but it was almost identical to the one you remembered as your first encounter with Jungwoo.

You scrambled for your phone and typed in the title of the movie, your heart dropping at the description. It was the sequel. 

Your feet refused to move, stuck in the same spot and you heard a loud bang coming from the theatre. The commercials had already started. 

A group of teenagers bumped into your shoulder trying to enter the theatre, you stumbled forward, hearing the faint giggles and muttered apologies. 

It was the push that you needed to make your way into the theatre. 

As you walked up the aisles to find your seat you felt a wave of anxiety as you noted the group of rowdy boys in the seats next to yours. 

You sighed, knowing that you were in for a uncomfortable movie. 

Taking your seat, the boy next to you turned to give you a hesitant smile, almost as an offering of an apology in advance. 

Your blood ran cold. 

“Jungwoo?” It came out as a whisper, catching in your throat, but it was undeniable that he heard you.

He gulped, eyes fluttering across your face.

The noise next to you seemed to hush, a familiar voice called out to you, tearing you from Jungwoo’s face.

“Y/N?” Mark couldn’t control the amount of shock as well as the other boys, letting you know that you were the last person they were expecting. You lifted your hand into a shy wave, to which they returned, leaning back into their respective seats.

“So...”

You turned awkwardly to your ex, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you excited for the movie?”

You raised your eyebrows, the idea of small talk still uncomfortable to you.

“Yeah, I guess... I hope it lives up to the first one.” You blushed in memory of your first date brought up subtly.

Although it was dark, the red tint on Jungwoo’s was noticeable by you.

“Yeah... I heard it was good though, Mark’s already watched it and he dragged the rest of us here again.” His voice dropped a few octaves, lowering as the commercials got quiet as well.

You nodded, facing the screen, refusing to take your eyes off of it.

“Y/N.” There was a hiss coming from your right, you found Jennie desperately trying to find your form before initiating a crouch run to your side. She sank into the seat and leaned towards you, not noticing the boy next to you.

“I’m so so so sorry. But Lucas just asked me to pick him up from school. My mom stranded him again and he won’t stop calling.” She grimaced and looked at you apologetically.

Your eyes widened, realizing that she was planning on leaving you here. 

“He’s been waiting for three hours and I actually think he’ll try to kill me in my sleep if I don’t go to pick him up.”

You nodded, knowing that Lucas may be younger than his sister, but he was ten times bigger and had enough passion in him to do so.

“Okay.” You moved to get up, you didn’t really want to stay here alone. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. You should stay for the movie, we already paid and movie tickets are not cheap. Plus I think you’ll like this one, it looks right up your alley. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She shoved the bucket of popcorn into your lap and left before you could respond.

You sighed, slumping in your seat and picking at the pieces of popcorn that sat on top.

Jungwoo looked over at your side profile nervously from his seat.

You were tempted to move into Jennie’s unoccupied seat, eager to distance yourself from Jungwoo. But your body didn’t move.

His eyes followed the movement of your fingers, aching to reach out and grasp them in his own.

Less focused on the beginning of the movie and more concentrated on the bucket in front of you, you could feel yourself eating your way through your anxiety of the situation.

You choked slightly, turning red from embarrassment and tried to suppress the urge to cough.

You felt a nudge in your side, Jungwoo slid his drink towards you, and invitation to relieve your throat of pain.

You hesitated, as childish as it seemed you really didn’t want to drink from the same cup as him, but you were suffering.

You gave him a thankful smile and sipped for moment until you felt alright again.

In return you stuck the bucket of popcorn out towards him, after all there was no way that you could finish the whole thing on your own.

Halfway through the movie you felt the warmth of his hand graze yours as you simultaneously reached for a handful. As cliche as it seemed you felt sparks fly up your arm and you flinched pulling away, watching him do the same.

You hated that you still felt your heart rush at the close proximity. You hated that  he still made you nervous. You hated that you still had these feelings.

Before you knew it the closing credits had rolled across the screen and the lights of the theatre began to fade on.

From the corner of your eye you could see as the other boys stretched and stood up, making their way out of the theatre. It was only you and Jungwoo now.

You avoided eye contact, moving to make your exit. He followed.

The bright lights of the lobby had you blinking in distress. Johnny grinned at your fazed state and walked the group over to where you were standing, Jungwoo steps behind.

“Hey Y/N.” Jaehyun waved shyly at you before shoving his hands back into his pocket.

You smiled in response before turning to face Johnny, who looked like he was dying to say something.

“Y/N fancy seeing you here.” There was a grin that crossed his face, he looked too happy to be seeing you here.

You furrowed your eyebrows and nodded at him, not saying anything.

Standing awkwardly in the group you glanced at your phone checking the time. It was getting late and you groaned suddenly realizing that Jennie had left earlier. You no longer had a ride. 

You grimaced, pulling your phone out to text her, then realized that it was best not to bother her,  as she was dealing with a very upset Lucas.

“What’s up?” Johnny asked, peering over at your screen.

“Nothing.” You sighed, “I just remembered that my ride left earlier. I should go now to see if I could catch the bus.”

He shook his head, “No way, why don’t you let us give you a ride?”

“Oh. You wouldn’t mind?” As much as you hated the thought of being confined in a car with the four of the them, it was much better than getting on the sketchy bus that comes by every hour.

“Of course not, the bus is gross.” You nodded thankfully.

“Oh, that makes things easy then, could we pick up my box of things on the way then?” You asked, remembering that Johnny said they were at his place.

There was a pause, and you didn’t miss the look the three of them gave each other.

“I-uh... I forgot I actually have this thing I have to go to, with Mark and Jaehyun. Jungwoo, why don’t you drop her off?”

Your eyes widened at him. 

Jungwoo nodded more enthusiastically than you expected him to. 

You glanced at him, reluctantly following his lead. 

How bad could one car ride be?

prev | masterlist | next

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.