#I haven’t drawn smile dog in forever

[wormzandpastaz]

[arainbowofchaos]

Forbidden Euphoria [Chapter 2]

Following an intense night, you are drawn towards a non-single man who might hold the key to unlocking both pleasure and heartache.

Tags: Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook isn't monogamous, Taehyung is Reader's best friend, Mention of smut and angst in this chapter!

Length: 2.3k words

A/N: Here's the second part! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing it.

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...

Jungkook places a tender kiss on your bare shoulder, his black locks brushing against your cooling flesh. His tattooed arm lovingly encircles your small waist as you lie on your stomach, and a shiver of delight runs through you at his touch. The room is plunged into darkness, a stark contrast to what was, just a few hours ago, a fireworks display of moans, skin slapping, and heavy breathing. How did you end up here?

"What are you thinking about, baby?" He soflty inquires.

You've already reached the point of using pet names, it seems. You sigh and roll over, now lying on your back, staring at the ceiling even though you can't see anything. Your tired arm comes to rest on your flushed face, and you exhale a contented sigh once more. You haven’t felt so happy in years.

With a delicate touch, Jungkook gently removes your arm, firmly grasps your face with one hand, and turns it towards his own. Even in the darkness, you can still discern his face. He's wearing a warm smile, but his eyes reveal a hint of apprehension. "Do you have second thoughts?" he asks, uncertainty lacing his tone. His eyebrows are slightly raised, and he nervously plays with his lip piercing with his tongue.. Your heart flutters with the realization that he might be worried because of you.

"No," you finally declare, "I can't regret it. I had a great time," you admit, a bit shy.

Jungkook’s smile intensifies at your hidden compliment, and he kisses you tenderly on the lips, causing butterflies in your stomach. This kiss is nothing like the ones from earlier, for sure. It's gentle and affectionate, and you feel like you could peacefully fall asleep in this warm embrace. It wouldn't be so bad, right?

…

You wake up the next morning with his hardness pressed against your back. The moment you attempt to get up, he pulls you back against him with a force that ignites a strong arousal within you. Of course, he fucks you again, and then once more in the shower, making you feel the cold tiles beneath your cheek, and then again before leaving the room, lifting you up, his muscular arms pressing you against the wall.

You can barely walk as you make your way back to Busan. Being the gentleman he is, he carries your luggage all the way to the airport, his tattooed arm flexing as he effortlessly handles the weight. He is by your side, helping you with every step of the journey, making you feel cared for. Despite his charming ways, you have to insist that he lets you go home alone, as you need some space to detox yourself from him. He pouts playfully, his lips tugging into a cheeky smile as you leave, getting into your taxi to escape his insatiable appetite.

After getting back home, you quickly realize that Jungkook has this uncanny knack for getting under your skin.

You are there, trying to enjoy a quiet, tranquil evening at home, sipping on a cold, refreshing beer and watching TV peacefully, when suddenly your phone lights up with a silly, unsolicited photo of him and his adorable dog. You didn't ask for it, for God's sake. Frustrated, you reply, "Your dog is much cuter than you, a shame it has to put up with you," pressing send in exasperation to express your annoyance with him and his antics.

All you desire in life is to banish him from your mind forever.

“He’s a menace!” you grumble to yourself, remembering the intensity of your encounter the night before, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. You wish fervently that your current state of intoxication was due solely to alcohol.

Your phone vibrates again, and you quickly open his message.

"I know you don't mean it... Here's something to keep you entertained until tomorrow ;) See you at work :)" 

You can only admire his selfie, revealing himself half-naked in bed, lying on his side with a cheeky smile, propped up on one elbow, and supported by his muscular, tattooed arm. You can't help but lament that the white sheets cover the rest of his alluring torso, leaving the rest to your imagination. Suddenly, all you can think about is his sculpted body pressed against yours, and you have to bury your face into your pillow to stifle the whimper threatening to escape your lips. "A fucking menace," you mutter under your breath.

…

You don't like being given mixed signals, and it appears that Jungkook is doing just that. Today, back at work, he seems to be avoiding you like the plague. You search for him throughout the day, but he's nowhere to be seen, even during lunchtime. It's not like it deeply troubles you, but a part of you wishes you could have a conversation about your situation. 

The striking difference between his affectionate behavior the previous day and his sudden distance now leaves you perplexed. It's as if he's playing a game, and you're not sure what moves to make. The uncertainty gnaws at you, and you can't help but wonder what changed.

As the day progresses, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps wandering back to Jungkook. You find yourself replaying the events of the previous night, trying to make sense of his actions. Did he regret what happened? It's frustrating not knowing where you stand with him. You wish he would just be honest and straightforward with you. 

As you leave your company's building, you finally spot him. He's getting into a car - you don't remember him coming to work by car, sometimes it's a motorcycle - and there's a young woman at the wheel whom you struggle to make out. He settles into the car, leaning towards her... and simply kisses her. The sight hurts more than you'd like to admit. The interaction feels so intimate, and suddenly, you feel nauseous. You definitely don't want him to see you, and the urge to disappear overwhelms you. You wish you could sink six feet underground.

But life is a bitch - so the car starts and passes right by you, even pausing courteously to let you cross the road. You hurriedly make your way across without glancing their way, perhaps even breaking into a run, and if you feel drops sliding down your cheeks, it's certainly just fatigue playing tricks on you.

… 

"He’s a big jerk, forget about him!" Taehyung exclaims, his voice filled with anger and frustration, his protective instincts kicking in as he hates seeing you in such distress. He can't stand the idea of you being hurt by someone who doesn't deserve you.

You didn't anticipate sharing every detail of what happened between you and Jungkook with your best friend so quickly, but the emotions and events of the day have overwhelmed you. The sight of Jungkook with someone else, sharing an intimate moment so casually, has shaken you more than you care to admit. It's like a punch to the gut. 

Taehyung's brows furrow slightly, and he leans in, genuinely curious and a bit puzzled. "But it's not like you to fall for someone who's already taken. What happened?" he asks, his voice laced with a mix of concern and confusion. He knows that you're not one to get involved with someone who is already in a relationship, so this situation seems out of character for you.

"He says he's not in a committed relationship, it's more like an open arrangement, at least that's what I gather from what he told me," you explain, hoping to shed some light on the situation. 

"Do you think you'll see him again?" Taehyung's concern is evident in his voice as he presses for an answer. "Are you planning to continue this... whatever it is?"

"We literally work in the same office," you reply, feeling a bit defensive. "It's not like I have much choice in the matter." You try to justify the situation, but deep down, you know that there's more to it than just proximity.

Taehyung shakes his head, a mixture of frustration and empathy in his expression. "No... you know what I mean. Will you see him outside of work?" He's concerned that this might go beyond a workplace fling, and he wants to ensure you're not getting yourself into something messy.

As you bite your lip, a rush of emotions floods over you, leaving you feeling vulnerable. The truth is, you hadn't really considered what would happen after that night with Jungkook. The connection you shared with him clouded your judgment, and now you're faced with the aftermath.

"I don't know," you confess, feeling a tinge of insecurity creeping into your voice. You glance away for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I didn't think that far ahead. I guess I was just caught up in the moment. None of this is planned," you declare with frustration.

Taehyung's gaze softens, and he reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. "It's okay, Y/N. These things happen, and sometimes, we don't have all the answers right away. But you need to figure out what you want and if he's worth the potential heartache." He's there to support you, and you feel lucky to have him as a friend.

Your phone rings, and you hesitate to answer when you see Jungkook’s name flashing on the screen. Taehyung raises an intrigued eyebrow, and you whisper, "It's him". 

The phone keeps ringing insistently, and you can feel your heart racing. Instinctively, Taehyung reaches out, offering to answer the phone for you. You are grateful for his support, especially since you can't bring yourself to respond right now. The pain is still too fresh.

"Hello?" Taehyung answers. "Hello, sorry, who is this?" The voice on the other end sounds inquisitive, almost accusatory and Taehyung quickly explains,  "A friend. Y/N is busy, she can't answer right now."

There's a brief pause before the person on the other end responds, "OK. I see. Tell her I'd like to see her." And just like that, the call ends.

"He wants to see you. What an asshole," Taehyung chuckles, clearly amused that he picked up the call. He won't let that jerk think he can have you however he wants. He's protective of you and won't stand for anyone treating you poorly.

Feeling overwhelmed, you down the rest of your pint in one gulp. Tomorrow is the weekend, and you don't have to work. If Jungkook truly wanted to see you so much, why not today at work? The confusion leaves you feeling lost, unsure of what you should do next.

Just as you're trying to collect your thoughts, your phone vibrates with a new text message.

"I'm sorry about today. We need to talk. Where are you?" 

The message from Jungkook only adds to your anxiety, and you let out a frustrated sigh. You're not sure if you're ready to face him and have that conversation.

With a groan, you drop your phone on the table, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your hands instinctively move to massage your temples, trying to ease the tension that has built up inside you.

"I just want to go home," you grumble in frustration. Taehyung then kindly offers to drive you back, and you gratefully accept his offer. 

...

It's only an hour later, as you find yourself alone again, soaking in the comforting embrace of your foamy bathtub, that you finally decide to respond to Jungkook's message. 

"Don't worry, everything's fine," you type, choosing to downplay the situation, not yet ready to confront the complexities that have arisen.

Your phone rings, interrupting the solitude of your moment in the bathtub. The warm water surrounding you suddenly feels suffocating, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before answering. A part of you longs to hear his voice, to feel that connection you shared, even though you know it's not healthy.

With a deep inhale, you gather your courage and pick up the call, your voice reflecting a delicate blend of vulnerability. "Hello," you say softly, uncertainty lacing your words as you brace yourself for whatever comes next.

"Where are you?" His voice sounds slurred, and you can tell he's been drinking.  "I'm at my place," you reply hesitantly.  “Okay, I'm in your neighborhood, I'm coming. Give me your exact address." He seems determined, but you're not sure if it's the alcohol talking or genuine concern.  "No, wait," you interject, trying to gather your thoughts.  "You're not alone, are you?" he asks, as if he suspects something. "I'm alone, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to see you," you say with a quivering voice. "I need to see you, let me come and comfort you. I can tell you’re not okay. Please, let me make it up to you," he pleads, his voice tinged with regret. 

You hesitate for a moment, torn between the desire to see him and the need to protect yourself. "Okay, but don't expect anything to happen," you warn him firmly, trying to set boundaries even as your heart aches for his presence.

"I understand," he replies softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I just want to be there for you." You can sense the relief in his voice. "I'll be there soon."

As you hang up the phone, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, hopeful that he genuinely cares and wants to make things right. With one last hesitation, you decide to share your address with him. You figure there's no point in holding back anymore.

[cdroloisms]

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!) 

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.  

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can���t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[jjamjamm]

Forgetting Something

Masterlist | Domestic Oneshots Masterlist

Wordcount: 841

Summary: You went home to collect some of your things before moving into the mountain with Thorin. You almost forgot your childhood treasures.

Part 2

Since you were about to move into the mountain, you had arranged to return home and gather some of your things. Thorin had asked if you wanted them delivered, but this was something you insisted upon doing yourself.

Nearly everything you needed was in a pile next to the empty pack, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

“I know I’m forgetting something.” You swore, looking around the room. Thorin was standing in the room as well, having been curious about where you grew up he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see it for himself.

“If you do forget anything, we can send for it.” He assured you, as he looked around and picked up some of the things you had started to pack. He dropped whatever he had picked up and bent down to get it. He noticed while he was on the floor, that the floorboard was loose, and shifted it. Underneath he found a small empty space, inside a little lockbox, “Is this it?”

“I don’t think so- you found it!” You reached for the box, wiping at the surface of it excitedly, “I haven’t seen this in years.”

“What’s inside?” He asked, part of him curious as to what possible treasure you could have stashed away under the floorboards.

“I don’t have the key anymore.” You admitted, “I’m not sure how to get it open without it.”

“May I?” Thorin asked, and you handed the box back over. He pulled a knife out and fiddled with the lock, successfully popping it open and giving it back to you.

You open the top, expecting to find something incredibly important to you, but truthfully you didn’t know what to expect.

Thorin looked with you, confused as he took note of the knickknacks that filled the small box. As you moved the shiny buttons and bits of change around, you uncovered things that made more sense to have hidden away.

You dumped the little things to get to what lay beneath. You had gotten a glimpse of a piece of paper in a frame, and once you took it out, you remembered when you had first seen it.

“Is that you?” Thorin asked, pointing at the little girl that was drawn on the parchment.

“My mother used to be an artist.” You explained, “I remember hating this day, I had to sit for forever and I just wanted to watch what she was doing.”

You took the back of the frame off, and other drawings came popping out with it. Ones of your father, the house, the garden, and you with the neighbor’s dog.

“How’s it coming along?” You heard in the doorway, and saw your mother brushing her hands on her skirt, “What’s that?”

“Some of your pictures.” You shared, and she came over to look at them.

“I remember that.” She pointed at the one of you alone, “You weren’t really smiling that day, I had to work from memory a bit.”

You pouted at that but heard the dwarf beside you snicker.

“You’re very talented.” Thorin complimented, and she waved him off.

“Thank you, but not anymore I’m afraid.” She said, “I haven’t so much as done a proper sketch in years.”

“Well, if you’d like to,” He began, and you turned to face him, “You could come and work around Erebor. I’d love to get a portrait of the two of us.”

“Commissioned by royalty?” She asked, a little flustered. You were worried she would turn it down, so you spoke up.

“Oh mom, that’d be great.” You agreed, “Ori could help you work through the rustiness and once you’re comfortable… If you want, I’d really love it.”

“I’ll think about it.” She agreed, and helped you pack everything up.

When goodbyes came, she started to cry, which made you tear up as well. Thorin rubbed your shoulder before you threw your arms around her.

“Please, come visit whenever you’d like to.” Thorin said, “We would love to have such an honored guest.”

She promised to take him up on that, slid something into your pocket, and squeezed your hand before you started off again for the mountain.

While the house shrunk in the background, you reached into your pocket and unfolded the piece of parchment. She had tried her hand at sketching your husband, and though her lines were a bit shaky, she clearly hadn’t lost her touch.

“Looks like she found her muse.” You told him, handing the paper over.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and admired her work, “If she takes up the offer, I think she’d make a stunning portrait of the two of us.”

“I’m going to have that framed you know.” You said, “I’ll put it right on my desk.”

“Then I’ll need one of you for mine.” He said, kissing your temple. Your mother was surely up to the task, you knew it wouldn’t be long at all before she arrived at the mountain ready to sketch everything in sight.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Girl In Red

Pairing: MJ x reader

synopsis: you and your best friend fall in love from childhood to adulthood

Masterlist

5 years old

You looked around the classroom, eyes wide with fear as you clutched your backpack. Your mother was busy talking to the teacher, leaving you defenseless against the sea of kids. You felt out of your element, not knowing a single person in the room. There were groups of children playing blocks, dolls, and looking at books. Everyone seemed to have found a friend already.

Everyone but one girl.

Your eyes landed on her almost immediately and you felt yourself relax. She was alone too, sitting by herself at a table and coloring. Her curly braids hung down her back, secured with red ribbons tied into bows at the bottom. They moved slightly as she colored her paper, swaying back and forth as she worked. You looked at your mom one last time before walking over the the girl and shyly taking a seat beside her. She didn’t look up and continued coloring in the flower petals she had drawn with a black crayon.

“I like your hair.” You spoke up. “You look like Dorthy.”

The girl shrugged and kept coloring, shading the bottom of her picture green to create grass.

“Dorthy was annoying. I like the witch.” She told you.

“Which one?” You asked.

“The green one. I like the way she laughs.” The girl finally looked up with a playful smile. You smiled back, no longer feeling anxious about your first day at school.

“Me too.” You nodded eagerly. “And when she says ‘I’ll get you my pretty’. Her voice is funny.”

The girl laughed at your impression and put her crayon down.

“My mother made me wear the ribbons.” She said as she looked displeased. “She said it made me look like a “young lady”.”

“Do you not want to look like a lady?” You wondered.

“I’d rather look like the witch. She was cooler.” The girl said with a smile.

“I like the dog.” You responded.

“I like the dog too.” She said, and you smiled at each other again.

“I’m Y/n.” You introduced yourself. The girl made a sad face and started coloring again.

“I don’t want to tell you my name.” She mumbled.

“Why?” You wondered.

“I don’t like it.” She shook her head.

“Well maybe I’ll like it.” You told her. “What is it?”

“Michelle.” She said slowly, like she was scared of your reaction.

“That’s a cool name.” Your face lit up. “But if you don’t like Michelle, you can just go by a different name.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You can just make one up.” You shrugged like it was simply.

“I’ll think about it.” She decided.

“Do you want to be friends?” You asked hopefully.

“Sure.” Michelle grinned. “Wanna help me with me draw?”

“Okay. Your picture is missing a sun. You need the sun so the flowers can grow.” You told her as you examined her drawing of flowers in a field.

“I’m not good at circles yet.” Michelle thought. “Can you draw it?”

“Okay. I draw it like this so the sunshine goes on all the flowers.” You explained as you drew half of the sun in the corner of her drawing.

“Wow. Thanks Y/n.” Michelle looked at you gratefully.

“You’re welcome. I really like your drawing. I’ve never seen black flowers before.” You complimented her picture.

“Black is my favorite color.” Michelle said as she filled in the sky.

“Cool. I like that that color too.”

“Now you have to sign the drawing since we made it together.” Michelle said as she slid her drawing closer to her.

“Okay.” You nodded as you signed your initials in black crayon. “Now you.”

Michelle picked up the crayon and signed a big “+ MJ” under your name, making it look like two lovers that carved their initials in a tree. You looked curiously at what she wrote and realized something.

“Wait, look.” You pointed to the paper.

“What?” She looked up at you.

“What if you made your name MJ?” You suggested, making MJ smiled with excitement.

“I like it.” She nodded eagerly. “You can call me MJ.”

“Let’s be best friends forever, MJ.” You held out your pinky and she linked it with hers.

“Okay. I have an idea.” MJ said as she took the two red ribbons out of her hair. She tied one around your wrist and you helped her tie one around yours.

“These can be our friendship bracelets.” She explained as you finished tying her ribbon.

“It’s perfect. Now everyone knows we’re best friends.” You grinned as you held your wrist close to hers, your matching ribbons brushing against each other. MJ twirled her wrist, admiring her ribbon and matched your grin.

“We’re gonna be best friends for the rest of our lives.”

14 years old

“Hey dipshit. Get any sleep last night or are under eye bags the new trend I have to actively hate?” MJ asked as she came up behind you, grabbing your hood and pulling it over your head. You let out a groan as you pushed your hood off, making a face at her as you smoothed your hair down. You’d been walking to school together since you were little, and it still never got boring. She fell into an easy stride next to you as she slung an arm around your shoulders.

“Shut up. I was busy doing your dad all night long.” You shot back as you intertwined your fingers with hers.

“You’re gross.” She laughed as she shoved you. “He’s gross.”

“Fine.” You agreed. “I was up because I couldn’t figure out the physics homework for the life of me.”

“Why didn’t you text me for help, bubba?” She asked as she squished your cheeks together, something she’d been doing since you were kids.

“Because you go to bed as soon as the sun goes down like a rooster.” You teased her back as you tried to step on her feet. She laughed as she skillfully moved her feet to dodge you.

“I don’t know about roosters, but I do like getting a good nights sleep.” She shrugged.

“Well some of us don’t have that luxury.” You stated as you finally looked at her. She caught sight of your cherry red lipstick and raised her eyebrows.

“So I see. Nice lipstick.” She commented. Your hands immediately went to your lips at her words.

“Does it look bad?” You asked quietly.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve just never seen you wear makeup before.”

“I knew it. I look ridiculous.” You groaned and took out your phone to look at the camera. You saw your reflection and grimaced, insecurely touching up the edges.

“Then why did you wear it?” MJ asked curiously. The two of you never ventured too far from your usually styles, so the lipstick was surprising to her. She’d never seen you in makeup before and she kinda liked it.

She just wanted to know who you wore it for.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged shyly. “I just wanted to look pretty.”

MJ stopped walking suddenly, making you stop as well. You turned to look at her and found a serious look at her face.

“You always look pretty.” She stared, making you blush. You looked around for listeners and walked closer to her, close enough that your chests were pressing together. MJ held her breath as how close you were, unable to hear anything but her heart beating in her ears.

“Do you think the boys will notice me?” You asked quietly. “With the lipstick, I mean?”

MJ’s face scrunched in confusion as she stuffed her hands in her pockets as disappointment sunk it.

“Who cares what the boys think?” MJ scoffed, averting her eyes to hide her indifference.

“I do.” You insisted. She gulped and looked down at you, always taller than you.

“Why? Boys are stupid.” She said as she dug her toe into the ground.

“I know but,” you shrugged helplessly, “we’re the only ones in the grade who haven’t had their first kiss yet.”

“We’re also the only ones in the grade who haven’t had mono.” She reminded you. “I think we’re okay.”

“I’m being serious.” You whined. “I feel like I’m falling behind. Why doesn’t anybody want to kiss me?”

“Maybe because you look like the babysitter from Cat In The Hat with that lipstick on.” MJ laughed as she cupped your face, wiping some of your lipstick off with her thumbs.

“I know. It was stupid.” You pouted. “I just wanted to look pretty.”

“You’re not stupid.” MJ said quietly as her thumb dragged along your bottom lip. “And I already told you.”

“Told me what?” You asked as you looked up at her.

“You’re always pretty.” She smiled softly, making you smile back. You kept waking, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you until you stopped again.

“Would you kiss me?”

MJ stopped in her tracks and looked at you with a pink tint on her face.

“What?” She stammered.

“If you were a boy, I mean.” You added quickly. “Would you want to kiss me?”

MJ blinked a few times as she walked back to you, stopping when she was right in front of you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna kiss you.” She said softly. “I, uh, I would want to kiss you. If I were a boy.” She corrected herself as she looked away.

“Okay. I feel better.” You blew out a breath of relief before your face fell. “No I don’t. Why doesn’t anyone else want to kiss me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“Theres nothing wrong with you, bubba.” MJ assured you as she put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “No ones kissed me either.”

You chewed your bottom lip as you looked at her, a million thoughts going through your head.

“Should we…should we kiss?” You asked timidly. “Just so we can say we’ve had our first kiss.”

MJ’s eyes widened in surprise before a shy smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay.” She nodded, trying to conceal her excitement. You felt your own butterflies flutter in your tummy as you stepped closer to her and got up on your tippy toes. You put your hands on her shoulders, laughing nervously as your heads bumped together.

“I don’t really know how to do it.” You admitted as awkward giggles left your mouth.

“Just close your eyes and lean in.” She instructed, placing hesitant hands on your hips.

“What if I miss your lips?” You feared, eyes lingering on her lips before going back to her eyes.

“I’ll hold your face to guide you, okay?” MJ asked you as she cupped her face. You leaned into her hands as you felt your face heating up.

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’m ready.”

You shut your eyes and and braced yourself as you felt MJ pulling your face towards hers.

And all at once, you were enchanted.

You felt her lips on yours, the foreign feeling sending a wave of butterflies in your tummy. You instinctively leaned in further, wanting to feel her close. She pulled away, only when she couldn’t breathe, and slowly opened her eyes. Yours fluttered open and you immediately lit up in a smile as a nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“You have lipstick on your face.” You told her as you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

“I thought I got it all off.” She whined. “Now we both look like clowns.”

You laughed again, slowly taking your arms off her shoulders and straightening her jacket.

“Thanks for kissing me.” You said, trying to act as normal as possibly with the fireworks going off inside of you. MJ cleared her throat and nodded, feeling just as dazed as you were.

“Anytime.”

17 years old

“Can you believe this is our last year in high school?” MJ asked as you sat beside her on the roof of her car. Your whole class was at the beach for senior sunrise, huddling together for warmth as you waited for the sun to rise.

“Yes and no.” You shrugged. “It feels like freshman year was last week but at the same time, I feel like I’ve been here forever.”

“I feel the same way. It went by super fast, but also super, super slowly.”

“I’m gonna miss it.” You said as you stared off at the rising sun, feeling yourself getting emotional for a minute.

“Me too.” MJ said as she looked at you, sensing your vulnerability. She put a comforting hand on your shoulder and rubbed your back to soothe you. You turned your head to look at her and smiled over your shoulder.

“I like this hoodie on you. You look good in it.” You smirked as you tugged on her hoodie.

“Thanks.” She chuckled. “Thought I’d switch things up from the black I usually wear.”

“I like it. You look good.” You said, biting your lip as you admired just how gorgeous your best friend was.

“You said that already.” She teased you, poking your side as you leaned into her.

“Did I? Sorry.” Your laughter went up to the sky as she laid her head in your lap, her curls ticking your bare legs. You let your hand run through her curls, pulling at them so they straightened and bounced back into shape.

“It’s okay.” She said as she looked up at you. “The sky is beautiful.”

She was most definitely not talking about the sky as she stared at you from your lap, feeling like she could stay there forever.

“I know. I’ve never seen red like this. It’s like I’m seeing the color for the first time.” You sighed as you gazed down at her.

You also weren’t talking about the sky.

“Yeah.” She smiled lazily until she saw you shiver. “Are you cold?”

“No. No, I’m fine.” You lied, not wanting her to move.

“Your lips are blue.” She said as she sat up, touching your face with her hand.

“Are they? Oops.” You giggled as you leaned into her hand.

“Here. Hopefully that stops you from looking like a cadaver.” MJ rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around you, letting your stick your cold hands inside the sleeves of her hoodie. You rested your head on her shoulder and felt her warmth radiating onto you.

“Thanks. That’s much better.” You commented as you nuzzled into her neck. “You smell good. You smell like tea.”

“I had some before I came.” She told you as you shivered again. “You’re freezing. I told you to wear pants.”

“But pants didn’t go with my outfit.” You whined as you stretched your legs out on the hood of her car.

“Neither does hypothermia.” She said as he rested her head on top of yours.

“I wanted to look cute for our last first day.” You defended as goosebumps covered your skin like an unwelcome blanket.

“You always look cute. You in those little high waisted shorts.” She shook her head and let out a content sigh as the sun slowly rose on the two of you.

“I’m glad you like them, because they’re gonna have to pry them off my frozen dead body.”

“I won’t let that happen.” She assured you. “Let’s go to the little hut over there. It’s too cold for you here.”

“Okay.” You agreed as MJ tugged you by the hand towards a little wooden hut down the beach. Once inside, she plopped down on the sand and made grabby hands at you. You laughed as you laid down beside her, curling into her side and rested your head on her heartbeat.

“MJ?” You asked after a beat of silence.

“Yeah bubba?” She answered.

“You’re my best friend.” You told her.

“And you’re mine.” She said as she kissed the top of your head. “We’re gonna be best friends for the rest of our lives.”

You chuckled against her body as she quoted herself from the day you met.

“Hey, lovebirds. We’re heading to school. You can continue planning your homosexual agenda later.” Peters voice came from outside the hut, making the two of you jump out of the embrace and sit up…straight.

“Shut up, Parker. Don’t act like you and Ned didn’t fall asleep at the lock-in last year and wake up spooning.” You calmed back as you got up, not turning around as you walked out of the hut so MJ wouldn’t see your blush. It was weird. Had Peter not interrupted, you might’ve kissed your best friend.

And you really wanted to kiss her.

“Come on. We can fight over which friend group is more likely to fall in love later.” Ned said as you all headed back towards the cars. MJ fell into a stride beside you, slipping her hand into yours and unintentionally reassuring you that she had felt it too.

“Since Ned and I aren’t holding hands, I’d say MJ and Y/n have us beat.” Peter teased as he clocked the hand holding. MJ flipped him off, to which he responded with a stuck out tongue.

“You’re right. Quick, kiss me Peter.” Ned said dramatically as he cupped Peters face.

“I’ve been waiting all day for you to ask.” Peter matched his dramatic tone and pretended to kiss Ned.

“They’re so immature.” MJ scoffed as you pretended to gag.

“I know. And we are totally more likely to fall in love.” You laughed, only half joking as you looked at her.

“Totally.” She agreed, feeling the butterflies return.

18 years old

“Can you try to calm down and tell me what happened?” You begged MJ from her bed as she paced around the room. Ever since you got back from the party, she’d been in a bad mood. More specifically, ever since you kissed Peter in the closet as a dare, she’d been in a bad mood. The night started with you in a tight red dress, a dress that made MJ forget her own name. It ended with her staring at a closed closet door as her classmates cheered for Peter. Those seven minutes you were in there with Peter felt like a lifetime for MJ as a sinking feeling filled her tummy. There was no more denying it.

She loved you.

“I just don’t understand.” She exclaimed. “I drop hints, I make gestures, I give compliments. How can you be so forward with someone and they still don’t realize you like them?”

You had no idea she was ranting about you, and she was determined to keep it that way.

“Well boys are stupid.” You shrugged, thinking her own words would be of aid to her. She stopped pacing and looked at you, more heartbroken than you had ever seen her.

“I’m not talking about boys. I’m talking about girls.” She cried.

A silence filled the room as it clicked in your mind that your best friend of 13 years had just come out to you. It was bitter sweet moment for you, but also a scary one. You couldn’t deny that you’d developed feelings for her over the years, but now knowing that she liked girls left you feeling pressured to do something about those feelings. Not only did the girl you like just confirm she liked girls, she also told you she had feelings for someone else.

“Oh.” You said slowly, feeling your mouth dry out.

“Yeah.” MJ nodded as her eyes stayed glue to the ground. That was not the way she planned on coming out to you. She wanted to tell you in a cool way, a way that made you want to be with her. You blinked a few times as you collected yourself and gave her a reassuring smile, a smile that sparked hope in her heart.

“Well I’m sure girls are stupid too.”

MJ let out a groan, knowing it was too good to be to ever think you’d like her back.

“But that’s the thing. She’s not stupid.” MJ shook her head and went back to pacing. “She’s basically the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. So why doesn’t she see that I’m in love with her?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know you like girls. Maybe she thinks you just compliment her as a friend.” You spoke from experience, thinking of all the times you complimented MJ in a less than platonic way.

“I don’t want to be her friend.” MJ put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I want to kiss her until I lose my breath. I wanna be with her.”

You clenched her bedsheets between your fingers, feeling jealousy bubble in you as MJ confessed her feelings for someone who wasn’t you.

Well, it was you, but you didn’t know that.

“Hm.” You hummed, not trusting your voice enough to speak.

“I just don’t know how to tell her.” MJ looked at you with sad eyes. “I don’t even know if she likes girls.”

“How long have you been into this girl?” You wondered, knowing the answer would probably just make you more upset.

“Feels like my whole life.” MJ sighed. “I’ve never wanted anyone but her.”

Your blood boiled in your veins and you gulped, your heart breaking in your chest as you thought MJ just told you she never felt anything for you. If you just realized she’d meant you, both of you would be saved from a world of heartbreak.

“Never? Not even a little crush on someone else?” You squeaked.

“No. Just her. She’s got a hold on me.” MJ said definitely, making your chest feel heavy. You looked down at the floor as you experienced very first heartbreak. It was almost fitting that it was her. She was your first friend, your first kiss, and now your first heartbreak.

“You should tell her that. She’d be really lucky to hear it.” You said quietly as you quickly wiped a fallen tear.

“I can’t. I think she likes someone else. If we haven’t gotten together by now, it wasn’t meant to be.” She blew out a breath and ran her fingers through her hair, turning her back to you to conceal how hurt she was.

If she just asked, she would’ve found out kissing Peter felt like kissing a wall. It was nothing compared to that kiss on your way to school when you were 14.

Nothing was.

“Is that what you think?” You asked, letting your tears fall now that she was turned around. She nodded her head and you felt defeated.

“Then you’re probably right.” You nodded. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

You both stood in her bedroom, silently crying as your lack of communication broke each other’s hearts.

20 years old

Your phone lit up and showed that “jones barbecue and foot massage” was calling you, making your heart skip a beat. You plugged your finger in your ear to block out the noise of the harvest festival and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, looking around the festival for your best friend. You were both home from college for thanksgiving and planned to see each other immediately.

“Turn around.” You heard her voice, sending a wave of emotions through your body. You turned around and saw her in her typical relaxed attire and beaten up jacket, making your heart swell.

“MJ!” You screamed and ran towards her, not stopping until she was held tightly in your arms. She hugged you back as hard as she could, taking in your scent that she had missed for so long. You felt tears of joy come to your eyes as you held her.

Your first love, back in your arms at last.

“I missed you, bubba.” She mumbled unto your ear as she kissed your cheek. You pulled away and let her wipe the tears off of your face.

“I missed you more.” You laughed in embarrassment and pointed at your tears. “How’s college?”

“I’m broke and I gained five pounds.” She nodded. “How about you?”

“Same!” You squealed and threw your arms around her again. She laughed cheerfully as she hugged you back, rubbing your back the way she used too.

“I brought you something.” She remembered when you pulled apart and she began to dig in her backpack.

“You did?” You asked as you waited for her to find what she was looking for. Finally, she presented you with a bright red candy apple, making your eyes light up.

“I passed a stand on my way here.” She shrugged. “Do you still like them? I vividly remember you getting it all over your face every year at the Halloween fair.”

“Uh, duh.” You exclaimed as you excitedly unwrapped it. “They’re only the best holiday treat.”

“Well I’m glad to know you haven’t changed.” MJ laughed as you practically unhinged your jaw to bite the apple.

“Oh my God. It tastes like heaven.” You sighed as you took another bite, getting the red dye all over your face.

“I bet it does.” MJ snorted, admiring you at your happiest.

“This would be my last meal in prison. This is all I would need before I go.” You nodded in content as you ate the apple.

“You have it all over your face.” MJ informed you with a fond smile, just enjoying the sight of you being happy.

“I do? I didn’t even feel it.” You laughed as you touched your face. You felt the sticky substance all over your mouth and turned away in embarrassment to wipe it.

“Don’t look away.” MJ laughed as she pulled your arm so you were facing her. “You look cute.”

“No I don’t. I look like I just ate a small animal in the woods.” You shook your head and set the apple down on its wrapper on a table.

“Nah. It reminds me of the red lipstick you used to wear.” She teased you, only worsening your embarrassment.

“Stop. That was so embarrassing.” You whined as you touched your face again, feeling the red stuff on the tip of your nose.

“Here. Let me help.” MJ took out a wet wipe and began to clean your hands. You laughed shyly as she got closer to you and twisted the wipe around each finger.

“Oh my God. It’s everywhere.” You groaned. “If someone kissed me right now, they would stick.”

“Probably.” MJ chuckled as she wiped the tip of your nose clean. You stared at her as she did, always in awe of her beauty. She ran the wipe across your lips and slowly looked into yours eyes, feeling the same way she did at 14. You didn’t hesitate this time and leaned in to kiss her, no longer caring about the candy apple. MJ’s hands cupped your face and pulled you closer, as close as she was allowed. You put your now cleaned hands on her hips and pulled her flush against you. MJ couldn’t help but thinking about how fitting your first meeting was. You literally added the sunshine into her life and got her to see things in a different light. And now, she finally had you in the way she wanted.

“I missed you, MJ.” You whispered when you pulled away. MJ chuckled and kissed you again, softly this time.

“I missed you too, bubba.”

Tag List 🏷

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[amjustagirl]

Summary: She wonders if Akaashi Keiji could be her forever, (but then in the silence, her heart breaks).

Pairing: Akaashi x reader, Yaku x reader

Sequel here

AO3 Link here 

She meets Akaashi at an office mixer for magazine staff – he, an up and coming editor in the manga department, she, a translator for two languages.

Their paths meet when she spills a drink on his shoes (honestly, large crowds were never her forte) and her interest is immediately piqued when he smiles at her calmly and tells her he never liked that pair of shoes anyway. Then they start bumping into each other at work. She learns he drinks a prodigious amount of coffee – always black, from the number of times she catches him bent over the vending machine in the pantry. He saves her from the wrath of the printing machine when she forgets to remove the staples from her papers again.

‘We should go out for dinner’, she tells him, because she’s been taught to get out there and chase what she wants (and she rather likes the broadness of his shoulders and the patience in his eyes), and while he’s mildly taken aback, he agrees. She takes him for dumplings in a greasy diner, practically a hole in the wall, and is gratified when he doesn’t seem to mind that she eats almost as much as he. He doesn’t agree to let her pay for him – she tries to insist because she’s the one who asked, after all – but he does agree to split the bill.

He brings her to his favourite bookstore the following week, and they sit in a nook with their respective books and share a pot of tea. She discovers his dry sense of humour through long conversations about any and everything. He admires the contours of her mind when she rambles about work in three languages to him.

Months pass – and by the year’s end, he asks her to move in with him.

They find a flat a few stops from work. It’s small, but he manages to squeeze in a sprawling bookshelf groaning with the weight of his books, and she stuffs it full of knick knacks she stole from her parents’ home. They walk to work and leave for home together.

They spend nights on the couch sharing pots of tea, he - buried in his work, she - immersed in music, and on weekends they explore parks and bookstores and restaurants and museums. They discuss heatedly whether to adopt a cat or dog (she prefers the former, he prefers the latter) and talk about the possibility of buying a house in a year or two.

She begins to think that this could be her forever, and wonders if he feels the same.

‘Are you really dating Akaashi-san?’, Hana-chan from accounting asks curiously over lunch one day.

‘Yes’, she answers with a slight frown. ‘Why?’

‘You two seem so formal with each other’, Hana titters. ‘If he didn’t send you flowers ever Friday, any one watching you both would assume you’re just friends.’

‘Keiji is just reserved’, she defends him heatedly, ‘He’s affectionate enough in private with me.’

Hana laughs at her frown - ‘I’m sure, I’m sure - it’s just strange to find someone so shy about their love in this day and age’.

Hana isn’t wrong per se - she remembers an incident in their early days of dating when she tried to hold his hand and steal a kiss from him, but Keiji avoided her grasp and muttered a firm ‘not in public, dear’. Still, she tells herself she doesn’t mind that, her heart is warm enough from the gentle kisses he presses to her face in the comfort of their little home.

‘Busy, busy Keiji’, she says, a teasing lilt in her tone. ‘It’s time to go home’.

‘I still have work to do tonight’, he frowns down at the page in his hand. ‘I’ll meet you at home?’

‘Sure’, she chirps. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea waiting for you when you get home’.

‘I actually prefer coffee’, he replies, an embarrassed flush on his face. ‘I can’t keep awake with just tea’.

‘You’re going to continue working at home?’ She tilts her head to look at him confusedly, because yes - deadlines are tight in the publishing industry, but Keiji’s just powered through a major submission and is up for a promotion because of it - so it doesn’t make sense that he’s still so busy. ‘Rest is important, Keiji’.

‘I know but I asked for extra assignments - I thought I should challenge myself’.

It’s her turn to frown. ‘Oh’, she says, and her disappointment must be evident in her face because he turns to catch her arm. ‘Work is important, darling. Surely you understand.’ He gives her a slight smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you when all of this ends’. ‘

Alright’, she says, trying to smooth her frown from her face. ‘I shan’t be mad since you promised so nicely’, she jokes half-heartedly and heads off alone.

The flat is cold and empty. She hums to herself to fill the silence as she fixes herself a cup of tea.

‘Working late again?’ she asks.

He’s crouched over his desk in the office, multiple cups of coffee and stacks of paper marked in red strewn everywhere. The smudges beneath his eyes are a darker purple than she remembers, the skin of his hands almost translucent beneath the harsh office light and scarlet ink stains.

‘Mm’, he nods. His eyes do not leave the page.

‘I’ll see you later?’ she offers, and leaves when he offers no reply.

She leans her forehead on the sofa (ignoring how it’s too big for her alone) and plays the songs her mother used to sing until she feels like she’s home.

‘You’re working yourself too hard’, she tells him on another late night.

‘I’ve got work to do’ he responds, blinking owlishly up at her as if he can’t believe she doesn’t understand. She does – really, but it’s raining and she doesn’t want to walk home alone.

‘Work can wait’, she tries again, running her hand along his arm, frowning as he shrugs her off.

‘Not here’, he tells her firmly. ‘Not anywhere’, she can’t help but think to herself.

A car splashes her with rainwater as it drives by. She stands under the scalding hot shower for far too long, telling herself it’s because she’s trying to scrub the dirt marks off her legs (and definitely not because she’s hiding the tears sliding down her face). There’s an ache beneath her ribs that she can’t acknowledge (because if she does, it means the crack in her heart is real), so she sings her favourite songs to herself until she can pretend she’s ok.

‘I’m home’, he calls to her, his voice echoing in the flat.

‘Keiji!’ she bounces into the hallway to greet him, but the thick stack of paper he draws out of his briefcase makes her heart sink. ‘Oh well’, she thinks to herself, and does what she always does when she’s alone - puttering around the kitchen, humming songs with a cheerful melody. But when she fetches him a cup of tea, she notices a furrow in his brow, traces the downward slant of his mouth, hears the harsh tap of his slim fingers against his desk.  

‘Is everything ok?’ She approaches him cautiously, placing her hand on his shoulder. ‘You seem a little tense.’

‘Everything's fine, I just can’t focus when you’re making so much noise’, he says curtly.

‘I’m sorry’, she offers contritely, flinching inwardly at the lines of irritation appearing on his face. ‘But it’s the weekend, Keiji. Surely you can take some time off work?’

‘No, I can't. You wouldn’t understand’, he responds, waving her off dismissively.

‘We haven’t spent much time together in a while. Maybe we can go for dinner tonight?’, she persists, ignoring the pain sharpening in her chest. 

‘I said I can’t, I have work’, he snaps at her, not noticing when she takes an involuntary step back. ‘You obviously don’t understand.’

‘I do understand’, she tells him quietly, because she does - she’s not some flunky working in a dead-end job – for heaven’s sake they’re professionals in the same industry. She wouldn’t be in line for promotion at the end of the year if she weren’t herself adept at managing the stress of impending deadlines and an overwhelming workload - but he does not respond.

So she stays silent. And in the absence of sound, she can hear her heart break.

She has vacation days to spare, so she packs her bags and moves out into her sister’s place.

It’s a little sad how easy it is to avoid Keiji’s notice since he’s never at home. He must notice when she’s gone though because he tries calling her the day after – once, twice, and by the third time she sends a single text – ‘it’s over. Please don’t contact me again’, and promptly blocks his number. But he’s persistent, waiting by her desk with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers when she heads back to work.

‘Talk to me’, he begs, and she suppresses the urge to tell him that she tried, goddamnit - but she’s done, please go away and leave her alone, but his face is drawn and his eyes are bloodshot, and she reminds herself – this is Keiji, the man she fell in love with over plates of dumplings and shared pots of tea, the man she once believed could be her forever, and agrees to meet him for lunch on the weekend.

‘But not now’, she says, unable to resist a parting shot – ‘work is very important to you after all’.

She regrets it immediately when she sees his shoulders stiffen and something in his eyes break.

They arrange to meet at the café in his favourite bookstore. She turns up five minutes early but finds he’s already there waiting. He orders coffee – black, without sugar, and she gets tea with a slice of cake.

‘Come home to me. Please. I miss you’, he blurts out, looking at her with pleading eyes.

‘I can’t do that’, she says, shaking her head because their flat hasn’t felt like home for so long – no, not in the absence of sound, the silence so still she heard her heart break.

‘I can fix this’, he promises desperately. ‘I’ll stop working so hard, I’ll come home for dinner with you - it’ll be just like what we used to do, and we’ll be happy again’.

‘Keiji’, she says, a sad smile on her face. ‘There’s nothing left to fix. Can you honestly promise you won’t end up resenting me - resenting us - when exciting assignments and promotions pass you by, because you feel obliged to split your time between work and me?’

‘I could never resent you’, he tells her brokenly. ‘Never.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Keiji’, she replies tiredly. ‘You and I both know you love your work more than you love me’.

He shakes his head in denial, eyes red and glassy and she stops him with a finger to his trembling lips before she continues, the words bitter in her mouth - 'It’s ok to admit that you fell out of love with me. I should have realised that a long time ago. You deserve to find someone you love more than your work, and I deserve to find someone who’ll put me first’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and she can hear her heart crack open again. But the sad truth is she knows it’s over – has been over ever since she’s allowed her heart to be burnt slowly by his neglect, the ashes building up in her chest.

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’, she turns to leave, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips. ‘It's time to let each other go’.

To his credit, he doesn’t pester her at work, though he sends her flowers every Friday – pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons, and she draws the line when he starts to send her red roses (for love), sending him a strongly worded note to let her go. He finally stops, and she’s relieved when he takes her advice and asks out a girl from the publishing department – a peach blossom girl, thoroughly gentle and sweet and soft spoken. She tells herself she’s happy for him.

Still – there’s a dull ache in her chest when she sees them share an umbrella together when they leave work, a poisoned whisper in her mind wondering why she wasn’t quite enough for him, and an awkwardness when she bumps into either of them - especially that awful time she got stuck in the lift with said peach blossom girl, neither woman quite knowing where to look. It's enough to push her to resign right after she collects her bonus.

She’s always dreamed of joining the diplomatic corps, and luckily, since she’s fluent in Russian, it’s easy enough for her to land a posting with the Japanese embassy in Moscow. So she chops her hair (she hears that’s what break-ups make girls do), packs her bags and gets on a flight to her next adventure.

Moscow is as colourless and dreary as she imagined, so she wouldn’t have thought a quiet shade of brown might catch her eye as it does when the Japanese embassy hosts a party during New Year’s Day and she meets one Yaku Morisuke, a libero playing in the Russian Volleyball Super League, and from what she hears, a vital member of the Japanese National team.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when she bumps into him and spills her drink all over his shoes, but it’s eased when he shoots her a wide grin and tells her not to worry even though it’s his favourite pair of shoes.

‘You can teach me Russian over dinner as payment instead’, he tells her cheekily, and he takes her for Russian dumplings, full of beef and pork and potatoes. ‘It’s a little strange but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he says, eyes bright. He lets her pay the bill, but insists she let him pay when they go out again.

‘Are we going out again?’ She teases, and feels her heart skip a beat when he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. To no one’s surprise, they meet for a second date, then a third, and their days together soon blends into happy memories of ice skating and dumplings and steaming cups of tea.

‘Why don’t you move in with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to double her rent in less than a year.

Her mouth opens and closes as she processes the thought and her mind moves into overdrive, worrying she’s moving too fast, falling too fast (the spectre of the trainwreck that was her and Keiji buzzing at the back of her mind) - but then she realises she’s being unfair to him.

Because Yaku - or Mori as she now calls him, is nothing like him. He’s short (though she’d never admit it), whereas Keiji is tall. Quick tempered to Keiji’s calm temperament. But more importantly, he delights in spending time with her even after a long, hard day at work, humming contentedly to the songs she sings, and he never shies away from affection - relishes it, rather, pulling her close with the edges of her woollen scarf to kiss her openly on the street.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. 

You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, heart in throat, but echoes his laughter when he triumphantly leans over to press his lips to her cheek.

She - with their cat in tow - returns back to Japan when Mori’s drafted to play for the Japanese team in the Olympics.

‘Akaashi!’ she exclaims, spotting a familiar mop of dark hair in the VIP stand. ‘What are you doing here?’

He waves a friendly hello. ‘I never told you I played volleyball in high school?’ he asks and when she shakes her head, he points to a tall man with grey and white streaks in his dark hair. ‘I used to be Bokuto-san’s setter’, he tells her, pride evident in his calm voice.

‘That’s so cool’, she says cheerfully, checking back to the court to see if Mori’s playing yet. Then she glances at him once over, noticing lines under his eyes that weren’t there before. ‘Keiji’, she says, the once familiar name now foreign on her tongue. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good’, he replies with a small smile. ‘Surviving. Alright, I guess.’

‘Not married yet?’ she asks playfully.

‘No, we broke up’, he tells her plainly, waving away her apologies. ‘And you?’

‘Nope, not married yet’, she says with a distracted smile.

He wonders if he should seize the moment to tell her what he’s wanted to say when their relationship ended in flames (starting with ‘I’m sorry for everything’, and ending with a hopeful ‘maybe we can try again’) but he stops short when she shouts ‘Mori! Mori!’, as a short, brown haired man steps onto the court.

‘You know Yaku?’ Akaashi asks curiously. Nekoma libero, often overlooked but extremely dangerous - he remembers.

‘He’s my boyfriend’, she chirps, eyes glued to the court. ‘Do you know him too?’

‘We used to play each other in school’, he answers faintly, watching her cheer and wave her hands wildly. She’s happy, he thinks, she’s really moved on - and that thought selfishly makes his stomach sink.

‘He’s a good man’, he finally finds himself telling her.

‘The best’, she agrees, the sparkle in her eyes so bright he’s forced to look away.

He thinks he must be a masochist when he watches her throw herself headfirst into Yaku’s arms at the end of the match, the regretful ‘what ifs’ and ‘that could’ve been me’ thundering in his ears. Still, he knows she deserves someone who’ll always put her first, and with that thought ringing in his mind, he waits until she’s distracted with Bokuto-san’s antics before he steps forward, hand outstretched to Yaku.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

Yaku gives him an assessing look. ‘Always’, he promises firmly, taking his hand.

She returns home first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her, swinging her into his arms at the arrival gate, and when they get home she cooks dumplings for him. ‘In case you miss home already’, she tells him teasingly, but flushes when he answers ‘but with you, I am home’, and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

‘I want this to be my forever’, Mori tells her as he lays his head in her lap.

‘So do I’, she replies, her heart humming quietly, finally in safe hands. ‘So do I’.

[ellewriteswrongs]

layers of love - prinxiety

1.8k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: self-indulgent fluffy prinxiety, very domestic, some shrek references, y'all know the drill

cw: mild swearing, slight innuendo/suggestive dialogue

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Virgil asked from where he laid against his boyfriend’s chest. Roman’s hand stilled as he played with Virgil’s hair.

“Hmm?” He hummed, continuing to rock them with one leg hanging out of their shared hammock. “‘Course you can.”

Virgil made something akin to a purr as he laid in the sun, his hoodie discarded for once.

“When you first said you loved me…was it scary?”

Roman’s brow furrowed at the question, leaning back to try and see the other man’s face.

“Scary? I…I guess I don’t know. I think, in the moment, it just felt right,” he spoke with a soft smile, pausing only to plant a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “But ever since I realized it…every time I thought about saying it, I was terrified.”

When Virgil only shifted, tightening his grip around Roman’s waist, the latter continued.

“I was so worried you’d be freaked out and think I was moving too fast and the last thing I ever wanted was to scare you off, but I…” he trailed off, letting out an amused chuckle. “I was only ever afraid of losing you. Loving you has never scared me.”

Virgil hummed, leaning up to steal a lazy kiss from the corner of Roman’s lips.

“But what about all those stupid stories you like?” He smirked, folding his arms over Roman’s chest as he rested his chin on them. “Quite a bit of pressure there, Princey.”

Roman chuckled, twirling a particular strand of hair around his finger.

“Ahh yes, those stupid fairytales that you make me read to you all the time,” he teased, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I have more than enough understanding of when dramatic proclamations of my undying love are unwanted.”

Virgil just exhaled a short chuckle, reaching to pull Roman’s hand out of his hair and over to hold it against his cheek, first pressing a kiss into the palm.

“Isn’t that why it’s such a big deal though?” He mused, his eyes half-focused on the beach around them. “Like, isn’t the whole point of falling in love so that something changes once you say it? And…and nothing changed when we said it.”

Roman stiffed a little bit from under him. “Did you…want something to change?”

No. No, of course he didn’t. That was the best part about it.

He told Roman as such.

“I guess I just…always thought something would change, even if we didn’t really want it to,” he explained, closing his eyes as Roman started playing with his hair again. “But I like how we are. How we’ve always been.”

“How we’ve always been? I don’t know about you, stormcloud, but I think things have definitely changed for the better.”

Virgil huffed with a small smile.

“Alright, fine,” he said, his cheeks hot. “I’m glad we changed even if it was just a little.”

Roman chuckled, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, I think I like you a little bit more these days, sunshine.”

Virgil scoffed, jabbing Roman’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks, babe," he spoke teasingly. “What glowing praise."

Roman only wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other holding him by the waist.

"My darling dark and stormy knight,” Roman cooed dramatically, peppering kisses all over his face until the other started laughing. "The angel from my nightmares, oh how I adore you with everything I am."

Virgil smiled, his gaze soft and fond as he looked up at the man he loved.

"Mhm, that's more like it," he smirked, stealing a kiss. "I love you, dork."

Roman bent down to lean their foreheads together.

“What's with all the introspection, my love?"

"Good word, babe."

“Shut up, I'm just worried about you," Roman grumbled, tucking Virgil's head back under his chin.

"You're worried about me? Because I’m talking about being in love with you?" Virgil asked, taking one of Roman's hands to fiddle with his fingers.

"Well, you just don't...talk about it. We both don’t,” Roman explained, his voice vibrating through his chest. "And I'm glad we are, it's just...not what we do."

Virgil smiled, sighing contentedly.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise,” he assured him. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh wow, congrats," Roman teased with sarcastic claps.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Virgil complained, not even trying to hide his laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Roman smiled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just kind of realized that I've been feeling different lately,” he started, causing Roman to immediately stiffen and lean back to see Virgil's face. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes fondly. “I just told you nothing's wrong, chill babe."

"You telling me to chill out is quite ironic, methinks," Roman teased, relaxing back into the hammock. “It's not my fault you're rubbing off on me, Frank Fear-o.”

Virgil snorted a laugh at the nickname before he continued.

"Ever since we said it, I've just felt... better," he spoke, a soft smile on his face. "I don't even know how to explain it, it's just...better. I get headaches less, when I get anxious, it turns into panic attacks like half as much."

He paused as Roman's lips met his temple.

"And I think the strangest thing is," he spoke, propping himself up on his forearm to look down at his boyfriend

below him. “When you told me you loved me, I didn't doubt it for a second."

Roman gave a short, watery chuckle; his eyes tearing up just a little.

"Even just a year ago, I wouldn't've believed anybody who said that to me but you," he paused, reaching to squish Roman's cheeks with one hand until they both laughed. "I knew you'd never lie to me, but more than anything, I felt it."

He leaned in, intending to only steal a quick kiss before it swiftly escalated.

“Who knew you were such a sap?" Roman teased, breathing heavily as they eventually broke apart.

“Says you, Romeo."

“Oh, I wear that badge with pride, darling," he beamed. "According to Thomas' Twitter, I'm his 'simp' side."

Virgil snorted, laying back down as he leaned into Roman's shoulder.

"Okay, they're definitely right about that one,” he mumbled, ruffling the other’s curly hair affectionately. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger and you can’t even deny it.”

Roman grabbed one of said fingers and brought it to his lips, planting a dramatic, drawn-out kiss with the most exaggerated noise he could.

“But of course!” He bellowed, earning a fond eye roll from his boyfriend. “For it is my only duty to bestow upon you all of the love one can possibly muster.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a few other duties, babe,” he challenged with a smirk. “Like maybe the concept pitch for the next scripted video that you haven’t done, or the notes for the editors, or the fact that Thomas hasn’t even picked up his ukulele since last year, or—“

“Okay! Okay, fine, I can’t devote my whole life to smothering you forever,” he agreed exasperatedly. “But if I could, I would.”

Virgil chuckled, folding his arms over Roman’s chest and resting his chin on top.

“Hmm, yeah I think I’d hate that.”

Roman gave an almost comical pout, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nope, absolutely not, you’re not getting me with that shit,” Virgil asserted, trying to maintain a firm tone as he came dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Smother me twenty-four seven and I’ll dump you on the spot.”

Roman pulled a disbelieving face.

“You really think I’m buying that?” He smirked. “That you’d dump me for spoiling you absolutely rotten with my sweetness.”

He knew full well what he was doing.

“I need my space, princess,” he spoke, putting on a suave tone that he knew he wasn’t pulling off by the giggles that came from his boyfriend. “I gotta’ keep up the aesthetic.”

Roman brought Virgil’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, alright, I respect the commitment,” he spoke, punctuated by kisses from Virgil’s hand up to his shoulder. “It’s so tragic that Mr. Misery Business would rather brood than swoon.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” He grinned. “I’m multi-faceted these days, babe. I have layers.”

Roman snorted a laugh, ducking his head right by Virgil’s ear.

“Layers,” he spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, his hands squeezing Virgil’s sides. “Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. We both have layers.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil cackled with laughter. “I hate it. I hate you, never speak to me again.”

Roman smirked, unfazed.

“But Virgil, that’s what friends do, they forgive each other.”

“One more word and you’re not getting any kisses for the rest of the week.”

“It’s already Friday.”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to punish myself in the process.”

Roman flushed a little at the rare admittance of affection.

“You think you couldn’t go a full week without any kisses?”

“I mean,” Virgil spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to find out.”

He answered with a chaste kiss to the other man’s temple. “I guess the world may never know.”

“If Logan were here right now, he’d probably try to get us to find out.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I never listen to the ol’ poindexter anyways,” Roman grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ahh, yes, my favorite thing about you,” Virgil teased with a sly smirk. “How you’d rather be eternally petty than have an ounce of rational thought in that pretty little head of yours.”

Roman gave an offended scoff.

“You know what, I’m just going to ignore everything you just said in favor of the fact that you called me pretty,” he defended with a humph.

“Oh, you like that?” Virgil continued teasing. “As if you don’t already know you're pretty.”

Roman feigned his innocence.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. Perhaps you’ll have to enlighten me on what you find so appealing,” he drawled, his voice syrupy sweet in a way that would’ve made Virgil weak in the knees if they weren’t currently lying on top of each other. “My cute button nose? Thick, wavy locks? Maybe my taut, round buttocks?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Pull another Shrek quote out of that ass and I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit for a week—a full week.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Is…is that a threat or a promise?”

Virgil just groaned, shoving him until the hammock teetered and he panicked, clinging back onto the other man. “You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“You may be right, but this is certainly more fun, I must admit,” he sighed happily.

“Just shut up and take a nap, princess.”

“As you wish, my love.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

Home

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Part 5

Read Part 4 here

Summary: Being the favorite has its benefits.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, implied age gap, biting, creampie

~~

             Warmth seeps into your skin, lights up the room behind your eyelids. In your semi-conscious state, you think it feels natural, like sunlight. This is impossible, of course. No sunlight reaches your cell.

             Yet, when you crack your eyes open, you must throw your arm over your face to block the piercing light. You sit up, scrunching your eyes shut. Where is it coming from?

             Slowly, you adjust. You peel your lids open and realize you have no idea where you are. You’re sitting on a bed, a real bed, with an ornately carved oak headboard. You glance over the rest of the antique furniture, the hard wood floors, thick wool rugs, en suite bathroom, because your gaze is drawn to the windows.

             Windows.

             Windows with blue sky beyond.

             Your bare feet meet hardwood and you stumble, catching yourself on the window sill. A shaky exhale leaves you, a single tear carving a path down your cheek. Sky, grass, sunlight, things you haven’t seen for the better part of a year.

             You’re in a house, a home, nestled between two others, more across the street. Down on the sidewalk, a child rides by on a bike, helmet glinting in the morning sun. A car passes, driver waving to the neighbor as they retrieve the morning paper. Life all around you, continuing on as normal, as though you haven’t been missing for eight months, oblivious to the constriction in your chest, your quiet gasps, your panicked jubilation.

             Where is Asa? How had you gotten here?

             You tear you gaze away from the street, cross the room, making it to the door before noticing what you wear. Not lingerie, but clothes. Specifically, pajamas, shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, and they fit you as though you had picked them out at a store yourself. You haven’t worn clothes in so long you’ve forgotten how comfortable they are.

             It is when you reach up to feel the fabric you notice what is on your left hand. Your eyes go wide and you bring your trembling hand to your face to inspect the ring on your finger. Your ring finger, to be exact.

             A delicate gold band wraps perfectly around the digit and holds a huge, diamond-shaped emerald—the same color as your right eye—surrounded by smaller diamonds that create a vintage, floral pattern. You swallow the lump in your throat, heart pounding in your ears, eyesight narrowing to the green stone shimmering in the sunlight spilling in through the windows.

             A clatter from downstairs breaks you out of the beginnings of a panic attack and you gulp down air when you realize you hadn’t taken a breath since you discovered the…engagement ring. The click clack of dog paws on hardwood reaches your ears. You have a sneaking suspicion to whom this house belongs.

             Carefully, you tiptoe down the hall, ease down the first set of stairs, wincing with every creak of wood under your bare feet. On the landing, you can see the front door. For a moment you’re flabbergasted, struck dumb by the dainty lace curtain covering the window. You try to imagine Asa in his usual black ensemble shopping at a department store, perusing the home décor.

             You shake your head, ridding yourself of the absurd visual before quickly sneaking down to the main level. Quickly, you take stock of your surroundings; antique furniture, glass terrariums housing preserved insects, leather bound books, fucking porcelain wash basin in the bathroom…. If you had thought to imagine what Asa’s home would look like, it would not have been this.

             Another quiet clink distracts you. Assuming it’s from the kitchen, you follow the noise, passing through the dining room. You round the corner and pause in the doorway.

             The first thing you notice is his clothes. You’ve never seen The Collector out of his black pants and sweater. Today, he’s dressed in light colored jeans and a sand colored button-up. It’s jarring and for a moment you almost don’t recognize him.

             He’s seated at the table, coffee mug in hand, eyes flicking quickly over the paper spread out on kitchen table. Asa must feel your eyes on him because he glances up, meeting your wide, teary gaze. He doesn’t speak, just assess you, waits for your reaction. You take this as permission to speak.

             “W-What…” you try, your voice breaking. You swallow thickly, willing your constricting throat to make noise, “W-What is…this?” You motion to everything around you. You mean for him to explain the situation but you can hardly find the words, swept up as you are by your tumultuous thoughts.

             Asa crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, propping an ankle up on his opposite knee before speaking, “You’re going to live with me now.”

             “O-Oh.” You have no idea what to say, where to even start. Live with him? Does he mean forever? Why? And why you?

             You’re never going home, are you?

             And what is with the fucking engagement ring?

             Your gaze drifts to the mug sitting on the table, half full of dark liquid. Your eyes flick to the coffee pot on the counter. A steadying breath fills your lungs and you focus on the rich scent in the air.

             “May I please have some coffee?” you whisper, hands trembling. Asa stands, retrieving a mug from a cupboard.

             “Cream or sugar?”

             “Just cream, please.” The clink of a spoon against ceramic makes you flinch. Asa sets the cup on the table with a quiet clunk. He crosses the room to stand behind you, placing his hands on your arms and steering you toward the table to seat you in the chair beside his. He drops back into his own chair, returning to the paper as though this is the most natural thing in the world.

             Your quivering fingers close around the handle of the cup. You take a sip, closing your eyes and savoring the first taste of caffeine you’ve had in so, so long. Gradually, your heart rate returns to normal.

             You knew you were never going home. That fact shouldn’t be the surprise here. If you’re being honest with yourself, this is the best-case scenario. You’re no longer a resident in the Collector’s house of horrors. You’re in a real house, a home, with coffee and windows with blue sky beyond.

             And you’re with Asa. You love him, right? You’d said so yourself.

             Twice.

             Asa folds the paper, tossing it into the recycle before bringing his mug to the sink. He comes to stand next to you and you glance up from your drink to meet his dark gaze.

             “You may go anywhere in the house. There’s a list of tasks for you to complete before I get home this evening.” He nods to the slip of paper lying on the counter. Plucking your left hand off the table and fiddling with the ring on your finger, he continues, “The dogs have been trained to attack if you try to leave the house. I recommend you stay away from the front door. Understand?”

             Quickly, you nod. You’re relieved to be given instructions. It will keep you occupied, keep you from thinking too much.

             “If someone comes to the door, ignore it. The neighbors are….” Asa glares out the window, taking a deep breath before continuing, “They like to pry. They already know you’re here, so expect them to come by after I leave.” You squirm in your chair at that, eyes widening. He fixes you with an irritable frown, “Do you have a question?”

             “They…you said they know I’m here? What…who am I supposed to be…to you?” Asa raises an eyebrow, lifting your left hand higher for emphasis.  

             “I think that should be obvious.”

             “Oh.” Releasing your hand, he turns and stalks from the room without a backward glance. The jingling of keys reaches your ears. The doorknob rattles, door creaking open. Stomp of boots, then a pause as someone outside speaks. Distantly, you hear a response and it takes you a moment to realize it’s Asa speaking.

             “Morning, Bob.” You’re stunned. You’ve never heard him sound so relaxed, so cheery, “Ah…yes, they’re…” an interruption, mumbling you can’t hear, then Asa again, “they’re just sitting down to breakfast…” another interruption. You’re almost afraid for the person speaking. Who would dare interrupt Asa this much?

             You remind yourself the neighbors don’t know him like you do.

             “Of course,” Asa relents. Clearer, you hear your name called as he steps back into the house and, “Will you come here please?”

             Please? Had he really said please?

             You leap up from your chair, half jogging through the dining room but slowing when you see Asa standing at the front door, one foot inside, one out. Minutely, he narrows his eyes at you. A warning. You nod and plaster a fake smile on your face.

             Discreetly, he taps his neck with his index finger. You pause, confused for a moment before remembering the thick, black collar around your neck. You must be getting used to it to have forgotten it so easily. Hastily, you unclasp the buckle, leaving it on the dining table as you pass.

             As you move through the entryway, you notice the dogs poised in the hall, ears perked, tense. Asa holds up a fist and immediately, they sit. He snakes his arm around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip as you he leads you out onto the front deck. An elderly couple, maybe mid-seventies, stand at the bottom of the porch steps. Their eyes widen upon seeing you.

             “Well, hello!” says the man, Bob, presumably, “Bit younger than I thought you’d be—

             Bob shuts his mouth when his wife elbows him. She smiles kindly and moves up the steps to extend her hand.

             “I’m Marilyn, and this loudmouth is my husband, Bob. Welcome to the neighborhood. We’re so happy Asa finally decided to settle down.” You try your best to rein in your expression. Settle down, huh? They have no idea.

             “Happy to be here,” you chirp, smiling up at Asa. You’re struck dumb by the warm smile he flashes back at you. You’ve only ever seen smirks, half smiles with cold, hard eyes, but this one lights up his face and makes your heart stutter.

             “Well, I better get going or I’m going to be late for work. See you tonight,” Asa presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head and you have to grit your teeth to keep your jaw from falling open in shock. Belatedly you smile after him, waving to the neighbors and hurrying inside, remembering what he’d said about the dogs.

             Falling back into the kitchen chair, you stare at the table, stunned. Asa really just lives two different lives and no one is the wiser. Belatedly, you wonder what he does for work. Do you dare ask?

             Better to finish your to-do list first. You’ll have time to think later.

*

             All Asa’s instructions are perfectly detailed, except the last one: Dinner. It’s just one word written in his flourishing script. Good thing you know how to cook.

             The pantry and refrigerator are well stocked, thankfully. It isn’t difficult to put together something decent. You’ve even found the ingredients for cookies. You hate the part of you that wants to impress him, but here you are, sliding a baking sheet into the oven covered in dollops of your grandmother’s chocolate chip cookie recipe.

             As if on cue, you hear the front door handle rattle. Instantly, you’re on edge, heart leaping up into your throat. Quickly, you scan over the list of chores, making sure you’d completed everything exactly how it is written. You’d hate to disappoint him your first day here. What if he sends you back to the trunk?

             When the clunking of boots on hardwood reaches your ears you spin around, smoothing the front of your dress and nervously looking at your hands. Do you kneel here? You’re not sure if the same rules he’d established at his…museum carry over to his home.

             “G-Good timing, dinner is—

             Your words die in your throat when your eyes meet his. Asa stands in the doorway, dark eyes pinning you to the spot with the intensity of his stare. There’s so much heat in his gaze it ignites a fire in your own belly until you’re biting your lip to stifle a whine.

             He’s across the room in three long strides, hand tangling in your hair and tipping your head back so he can crush his lips against yours. You mewl into his mouth and accept the tongue that prods against your own. Asa’s other hand goes to your lower back, pulling you in until you’re flush against his solid frame.

             “You were good today, weren’t you?” he states quietly against your parted lips. It’s phrased like a question, but he seems to already know the answer. You nod anyway, face burning under his scrutiny.

             Immediately, you’re spun around and shoved against the counter. Asa’s hands slip under your skirt, pushing it up to your waist, thumbs skimming along the flesh of your ass, across your hips, down your thigh until he’s dipping between your legs. Your breath hitches when his fingers tease through your underwear. His teeth find your neck, softly biting the spot just under your ear until you twitch and sigh, gingerly pushing back against him.

             Asa responds with another bite, harder this time, a quite growl in his throat. You whimper and his fingers dip into your underwear, gathering wetness from your dripping slit before gently stroking your clit. The movements of his digits are timed perfectly so your legs are trembling in minutes, hands gripping the counter for support.

             “A-Asa, I-I, please, I—

             He sinks his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you shriek. His other hand flies to your lips, two fingers pushing roughly into mouth until you gag. He keeps them there and grinds against your clit with the other hand, perfect little circles of pressure until your knees snap together and you arch, eyes scrunching shut as warmth explodes in your core.

             You’ve yet to come down from your high when you hear the clink of a belt, the slide of a zipper. Asa pushes on your back until you bend at the waist. He wastes no time in thrusting into your still spasming cunt, your squeal muffled by the fingers in your throat.

             Spit drips past your lips and trickles down your chin as Asa fucks you into the countertop. Every harsh pump of his hips brings a high moan up from your throat. You beg for more, words indistinguishable from screams as another orgasm builds.  

             His hand goes to your throat, making you arch more so he’s hitting that perfect spot within you. Three thrusts in and you’re done for, screaming around his fingers, cunt clamping down on the cock battering your slick muscles. Asa groans through clenched teeth, bucking into you a few more times before reaching his own end, coating your twitching cunt in hot white.

             Warm, panting breaths tickle your ear and he commands, “Say it.”

             “I-I love you. Thank you, S-Sir.”

             Your knees nearly buckle when he releases you. You cling to the counter, half-turning to face him. Immediately, he scoops you into his arms, whisking you from the kitchen and making his way to the stairs.

             “Um, dinner—

             Asa shushes you. You bite your lip. If the look on his face is anything to go by, you’re in for a long night.

[sylvies-chen]

Chenford + #11 “Wow, you look… amazing.”

Thank you!!!

The LAPD throws a charity event for the first time in forever.

It's for a good cause, Lucy supposes. But there are fountains there and expensive champagne and more glass chandeliers than she can count, and she thinks the LAPD might have their priorities a little backward, spending more money than will actually be donated. Whatever. These rich snobs are donating to a good charity at the end of the night. That's all that matters.

What also matters, admittedly, is that she gets to wear a dress. Call her vain, or girly, or too self-obsessed, but Lucy's been spending the last six months doing UC operations and minor drug busts. That whole ordeal involves more sweatpants and messy buns than she cares to admit, so going to this function with her colleagues is like a dream come true. She picks her favourite black satin slip dress, with a small slit to let her leg breathe at the bottom, and her favourite pearl earrings. Nova may be a slob but Lucy Chen is a sucker for nice dresses. Especially if it's for a good cause.

If someone just happens to take a good look at her and drool, that's an added bonus.

They're about an hour into this charity event, Lucy chatting with Jackson and Nolan in between the shallow speeches of various high-ups in the LAPD, when she sees Tim Bradford walking in from across the room.

He's an hour late.

He looks grumpy as hell.

She doesn't even think he made a donation yet.

But damn. If he doesn't look good in a tux.

Lucy feels herself being drawn towards him before she can even stop herself. Neither Jackson nor Nolan seem to notice her drift from the conversation so she keeps walking towards Tim. His eyes meet hers when she's halfway there and soon trail all the way down her body, absorbing the full glamour of the outfit before looking back up to her eyes with a surprised gaze.

"Hi," he blurts, as if shocked that she's here.

"Hey, you finally made it." Lucy feels a blush creep onto her cheeks and fights the urge she gets to try and swat it or slap it away.

What is it with Tim Bradford and making her a complete mess?

"Wow, you look... amazing," he awes, scratching at the back of his neck.

The blush on her cheeks intensifies instantly. "Thank you," she offers shyly.

For whatever reason, whether it be the dress she's wearing or the way he's ogling her like she's the only thing worth a damn in the room, she feels confident. So, before she can talk herself out of it, she smooths out a tiny wrinkle on his suit and pats his chest gently, pinching the bowtie momentarily. Her hand lingers on second too long, but she pulls away quickly when she realizes it. "You clean up pretty nice yourself. I didn't know you had such nice suits, Officer Bradford."

"I just don't get many occasions to wear them, that's all. Or ones I want to be at, at least," he adds under his breath.

"Is that why you showed up an hour late to this thing?"

"Maybe," he replies cryptically.

"What's your grudge against this event anyway? They do it every year, and it's for charity. Shouldn't you be used to it by now? Isn't this a good thing?"

"That's cute," Tim scoffs amusedly. "No, charity is the last thing these events are about. First, it's good PR for the LAPD. Then, it's blatant ass-kissing and networking for cops who want to climb the chain. Then you have your regular rich wives wanting their husbands to take them out more often, the lonely guys like Smitty who only come to get out of the house. Then maybe, maybe, it's charity."

"Oh come on," she chuckles. "You're too cynical sometimes, you know that? This is a good cause, it's good people helping good people!"

"Did they even tell you what the charity is?"

"I--" she bites her tongue, thinking about it for a moment before scrunching her nose in embarrassment. "No, they didn't actually."

"It's for animals. They're donating the money to an animal hospital, one that just so happens to host the main rehabilitation clinic for injured police dogs and horses."

"Huh," she replies, slightly bashful.

"What was that about me being cynical again?" Tim throws her a confident smirk and Lucy finds it more than a little attractive, even through her slight frustration.

"Oh shut it," Lucy giggles, rolling her eyes. "You get cocky when you're right about something."

"I must be cocky a lot then," he offers, again with that damn smirk. She shouldn't find it as hot as she does. He's her former T.O. and Lucy's pretty sure Jackson doesn't think these things about Angela. No, she's definitely straying beyond professional and it makes her brain turn to exhausted mush. But frankly, they've been pushing that line for months now.

She doesn't know when the flirting started, or when it became more than professional, but something's been going on between them for some time. So yeah. She's alright admitting to herself that she finds him attractive. They haven't acted on it which means it's still completely fine. She's in no trouble yet, right?

"Well you certainly didn't have that cocky swagger when you walked in and saw me in this dress," she points out before she can think about how stupid it must sounds. Especially to Tim who, for all she knows, harbours no feelings whatsoever. It's a bold statement for her, to say the least.

"I..." he swallows hard, his eyes never leaving hers but still pooling up with something intense and unwavering and... complicated.

Fuck. Did Lucy just make a total ass of herself? Did she just put them in an awkward position?

"I didn't, did I?" He finally speaks, looking at her bashfully. "I'll admit, I was a little... surprised by it, that's all."

Her face lights up, a cocky smile of her own forming now. It's mixed with the slightest amount of amusement and is crooked because yes. Lucy's had a few too many glasses of the champagne . She's a little carefree tonight. Sue her.

"Admit it," she chuckles, pointing an amused finger at him. "Just say it, man: I look hot!"

"I already said you look amazing, I think we've covered that," he backtracks with a blush of his own crawling onto his cheeks.

"No way," Lucy protests with a laugh. "Amazing is different than hot. Everyone can call a good hamburger amazing or-- or a donation to charity amazing, but no one calls it hot. Hot is different."

He stares at her, bewildered. "You've had too much of that champagne, haven't you?"

"A little bit, yeah," she admits with a snort.

"Fine," Tim decides after a beat of silence.

Lucy's confused for a second. She doesn't quite know what his grumbled and begrudging "fine" means but suddenly, Tim's stepping in, leaning close to her until his lips brush against the hair near her ear. It sends a shiver down the back of her neck.

"You look... very hot in that dress," he admits, his voice raspy and low in a way that drives Lucy crazy. And shit, if it isn't the most confusingly sexy thing that's happened to her in a while.

Tim backs up after that, flashes her a bashful smile, and walks away to talk to Grey. Lucy stands there in place, frozen by every muscles of hers that feels like it's on fire, and thinks maybe she's in a hell of a lot more trouble than she realized.

[quirrrky]

1 → 3 Pick one from the flowers above to open the Love Letter from your Haikyuu soulmate

PETITE FLEUR: PICK A FLOWER READING Ep 4. Love Letter 💌

If you haven’t met your Haikyuu soulmate yet, visit the links provided below to get to know who he is! MASTERLIST | YOUR SOULMATE

DISCLAIMER: This tarot/oracle reading is just for entertainment purposes only and based on my interpretation of the cards. The reading is also general so take whatever resonates. The cards are drawn intuitively and not intentionally nor by purpose.

Decks used: Labyrinthos Tarot Deck, The Oracle Deck, Romance Angels Oracle Deck, Moonology Oracle Deck

Let’s start!

Please note that the message will be on your resonating character’s POV

FLOWER 1

Tarot: Judgment, Seven of Cups, King of Cups, Three of Pentacles, Four of Pentacles, The Hermit, The Oracle: Fox, Whip, Fish, Heart, Anchor, Romance Angels: New Love, Release your Ex, Keep an Open-mind, You Deserve Love, Moonology: New Moon in Sagittarius, New Moon in Pisces, New Moon

RESONATING SONG: CAPITAL LETTERS - HAILEE STEINFELD

When I met you, the pieces and puzzle of my life came together. Everything finally falls into its place. The things I regret before came to light and made me realize that without them I won’t be led to you.

Before, I always fail to realize what’s ahead of me. I almost lose sight of hope and ended up disbelieving that I would be deserving of this moment. I never thought it will ever come to me. But you changed my mind.

With you, I finally found someone with whom I can share these deep feelings with—someone I feel so safe and comfortable to love with all my heart. You gave me new feelings I never thought I would feel. You gave me feelings I never thought would feel this good. And I want this forever. I want you forever. And I don’t think it would ever be easy for me to let you go. You’re my treasure. You complete me and I want to be the one to complete you too. 

I want to plan and build my future with you. The one where I’ll take care of you and be patient with you when you’re acting all moody, though I really think that it’s something so endearing about you. I want to be the one who’s by your side when you feel like crying. I want to be the person who will love you when you’re lonely and at the lowest point of your life. No matter what hardships life throws us, I want you to know that we’ll take it together and I’d rather go through them with you than not have you.

I know you’ve been alone all this time and I know how it feels. Just take my hand and let me show you that it’s safe to let go. It’s safe with me. Hold on tight and let’s dive deep. 

REMINDER: Don’t forget to reblog/comment your chosen pile NEXT EPISODE: HAPPY EVER AFTER

FLOWER 2

Tarot: Six of Cups, King of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Five of Wands, Eight of Swords, The Fool, The Oracle: Clover, Letter, Path, Stars, Mice, Dog, Romance Angels: Give your Relationship a chance, Chemistry, Children, Moonology: New Moon in Virgo, Disseminating Moon, Full Moon in Sagittarius

RESONATING SONG: HONESTY - PINK SWEAT$ 

You just don’t know how thankful, blessed and happy I am that I have someone like you in my life. To be honest, I’m so scared of the thought of losing you, because you freed me from the weights of my thoughts and secret anxieties that I don’t usually show. Now, let me be the one to make you believe that you deserve the same. 

Everyday, I will try my best to heal your hurt, your loneliness until you fully believe. I know the times you try to hide your sadness behind a smile. You might be scared. You might think that all this is just fleeting emotions, but not to me. You may have gone through a lot, but you’re not alone anymore. I’m here to make new tomorrows with you. I’m here to run away with you to leave all our scars behind.Everyday, I will try my best to heal your hurt, your loneliness until you fully believe. 

Let me free you from your doubts. Let me stay and stay with me. Allow me to show you the beauty in your eyes whenever they sparkle so much hope. Let me give you the world, because to me, you’re worthy of it more than you know.

I know it’s silly to still believe in fairytales. Hell, it might even be so stupid, but that’s just the kind of love I want to show you. The one where we can just endlessly dream about our future together and finally be able to laugh with all our hearts just laying in the ground watching the stars as we share corny jokes and stories. Entrust your heart to me. I’ll keep it safe and kiss all its pieces back together. 

REMINDER: Don’t forget to reblog/comment your chosen pile NEXT EPISODE: HAPPY EVER AFTER

FLOWER 3

Tarot: Eight of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, Ten of Swords, The Moon, The Oracle: Cross, Moon, Lily, Rider, Romance Angels: Be optimistic about your love life, Calling in your soulmate, Make the Effort, Moonology: New Moon Eclipse, Waxing Moon, North Node

RESONATING SONG: OUT OF THE BLUE - RINI

We’re not meant to be. I hate the way you make me feel like it’s okay to get lost in all of this. I hate it whenever I lose myself to you. I still don’t know why it’s so easy for me to let you in and it’s so easy for you to make me smile. I don’t exactly know how to deal with this. To deal with you. I think I might be crazy sometimes, yet I can’t resist being wrapped around your finger the second I see you.

If I’m going to be honest, I’m a bit scared because when I’m around you I don’t feel like myself. I just feel so different. ll my worries just go away. It’s like I’m a new person and something inside keeps nagging me that maybe I should just stop over thinking about this. 

I really don’t know why you always get under my skin despite how many times I tell myself that that this cannot be true. You’re always there whenever i just want to be alone. As much as I like to say I rather be by myself, I can’t because I honestly want you near me. Perhaps, I need you. Actually, I need you more than I let on. 

It’s just that there’s so many things that happened and I can’t believe someone will give me this much and that I’m actually capable of feeling this way. I always thought I can’t afford love, but you came along changing my plans and my life. 

Looking into your eyes always have me wondering how can I ever let you slip away from me. I realized that I just can’t. I guess I’m very lucky to have you and I want you to feel that every minute you spend with me. 

I hate that I think I’m underserving of this—that I’m not worthy of you, because I want to be the man you deserve. I want to be the person who brings you as much joy as you bring into my life. I want to be the right one for you.

REMINDER: Don’t forget to reblog/comment your chosen pile NEXT EPISODE: HAPPY EVER AFTER

A/N: Took me two days, this was the hardest to do, ngl! 🤧

✧ PETITE FLEUR: PICK A FLOWER READING ✧ ✧ DAYDREAM MUSEUM ✧

FLOWER QUEENS 🌺 : @mkkhaikyuu​ @fluffy-mayarii​ @koharuhar​ @itsmeaudrieee​ @lumin3xe​ @ginsan-eyes​ @lyricumsabiaflos​ @kageyamas-love​ @akaashrifa​ @anime-sidecharacter​

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡ Please help me reach other viewers as tumblr tags often don’t work on me. Thank you so so much! 

[keyboardink]

“truths and dares”

Kairi plays matchmaker for you, trying to set you up with everyone except herself. A game of "Truth or Dare" exposes your inexperience and your crush on her.

pairing: kairi “valkyrie” imahara x reader / media: apex legends

genre: eventual fluff / word count: 2k / rating: pg-13 / warnings: swearing and mentions of alcohol

a/n: another little friends to lovers thing with less angst. if you have any requests, feel free to shoot me an ask. if you like this, check out more of my writing here!

Kairi sat across from you, cross-legged on the rug in her apartment's living room. She took a sip of a slightly spiked drink before she asked, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," you replied. You wanted to play it safe around her; you know how mischievous she could be. Last time you two had a sleepover like this, she almost made you borrow her jets to jump off the building. When you refused, she then promptly proceeded to do it herself, making a big show out of flying as you watched. She said she would've caught you if you had jumped, but you knew you would've turned into a mess of shaky hands and tumbling words in her arms. Just the thought of her being that close to you, of her saving you like that was enough to make your cheeks flush.

"How was your date yesterday?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Maybe you should've picked dare.

This was the subject you had been avoiding for the last 34 hours. She asked about it every time she got the chance, and you were running out of ways to avoid the subject. Every single text from her in the past day asked you about this date, which you had only gone on because Kairi had set you up with a mystery girl. "She's a babe," Kairi had said. "You two would be amazing together. Total power couple." She said the same thing about the past four girls before.

She always tried to matchmake you with others, but little did she know the only person you wanted to go on dates with was her. You were crushing on your wingman.

You looked at the floor, suddenly interested by a chip crumb that you assumed must've dropped while you guys were snacking earlier. You didn't want to tell her that you had softly rejected this mystery girl almost as soon as you two sat down at the café. You didn't want to tell her that none of these dates were ever going to work out, because the only person you wanted to be with was her. You didn't want her to find out how inexperienced you were, how you'd never even kissed a girl before, how--

"Hello? Earth to [Y/N]?" She waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you back to the conversation. "You can't avoid it forever, you know." She spoke as if she had read your mind.

"It was fine," you said with a shrug.

"Oh, c'mon!" She kicked her leg out, lightly hitting your knee. "You've been avoiding it for days and that's all you give me? I need details!" She leaned forward, returning to the criss-cross position. She rested her chin in her hands with her elbows propped up on her knees, like she was about to watch a movie she had waited her whole life for. Her eyes glimmered with interest and intent. You shifted under her gaze, suddenly aware of how the corners of her lips were turned up, how her shirt was starting to slip down and expose more of her collarbone, how she looked at you. "Pleeease?" She whined, pouting and giving you puppy-dog eyes.

"It was nothing special. Just like all of the other dates you set me up with."

"You didn't even think she was cute?"

"She was cute, just... not my type."

"Bullshit." She leaned back, taking another sip.

"I'm serious!" Defensiveness caused your voice to crack.

"Okay, you know what? I take back my Truth for you," she said.

"You can't do that. You already asked me the question, and I answered it! So it's my turn."

"Your answer was wimpy, so that means I get a do-over."

"Kai, that's so not fair," you protested.

"Your new question is: why do you hate all the chicks I try to set you up with?"

"No." You crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm not answering that. You get one question per turn, and it's my turn to ask you."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Shoot."

"Truth or dare?" You asked, planning your next statement like a strategic attack. If she picked dare, you'd dare her to stop setting you up with random girls, and she always picked dare.

"Truth," she said with an ounce of arrogance. Okay, maybe she didn't always pick dare. She just wanted to be difficult. Classic Kairi.

You paused for a second, rethinking your plan before speaking again. "Why do you keep trying to set me up with people?"

She drummed her fingers against her leg, thinking the answer through. Your eyes were drawn to her thighs, the way her fingers pressed against her own skin and seemed to sink in like it was a pillow, the way her shorts were riding up from her moving around. You swallowed hard and forced your attention to return to her face, hoping she hadn't noticed you staring.

"Because you're hot shit," she said. "You deserve some hot girl to have fun with, you know?"

"Why don't you focus on getting yourself a date? I don't hear anything about you finding a hot girl to have fun with." You scrutinized her answer, genuinely curious as to why her own logic didn't apply to herself.

She shook her head. "Nope, one question per turn, right?" You groaned at the rule you had so adamantly enforced a minute ago. She smiled at your annoyance. "So, my question from earlier. Why do you hate everyone I try to set you up with?"

You searched your brain for an excuse, for anything that would cloak the real reason behind it all. "I'm not good at dating," you answered. It wasn't necessarily a lie, just an attempt at hiding that you hadn't ever had a real date before.

She saw right through it.

Her eyes widened. "Oh," she whispered. "You haven't-"

"Hey, one question per turn, right?" You cut her off, the words spilling out almost frantically. Your abruptness surprised both of you.

She was still quiet from the realization. You could only hope she hadn't also put together the whole "crush" aspect of it, and that she thought this was only about your inexperience. She nodded and leaned back, going easy on you. She could tell you weren't too fond of this conversation and decided to leave it be for the moment.

"Truth or dare?" you asked, shifting your legs.

"Dare."

You tried to think of something that would yield ridiculous results, something that would completely redirect the topic. "Show me the last thing in your search history."

"Oh, God," she laughed, pulling out her phone. She opened it to her most recent webpage and showed it to you. There was a page of results underneath the search-bar's heading which read "how to remove pasta sauce stains from blankets".

"Oh my God, Kairi!" you exclaimed, giggling.

"I was just eating on my bed! I was lazy, okay? Don't judge me."

You two shared a moment of laughter, and you let your worries and insecurities slip away for the time being. In that moment, you were just friends, laughing your asses off over a game of "truth or dare." There were no risks to be taken, no secrets to hide. Then, your giggles eventually dissolved and the truths came rushing back to you. You glanced at Kairi, who felt the nervous tension in the air, but she wasn't one to drop things completely.

"Hey," she said comfortingly, reaching over to place a hand on your leg. Your skin felt electrified upon her touch. "I'm sorry if I crossed a line, but it's okay to be inexperienced, you know. We all start somewhere. And sometimes, some of us don't go too far after our first. Some people find the love of their life right away and don't ever touch another person on the planet after that. Some of us like to have a bit more fun." She winked.

"Like you?" you asked, your voice sounding innocent and lost, like a hand stretching out for guidance.

"I used to." Her voice was casual as she leaned back on her hands. "I dunno, haven't really been feeling the fun life anymore. Kinda waiting for that special someone, you know?"

You nodded, understanding. You shared that feeling. It was part of the reason why you didn't want to go around messing with other girls, why you avoided all of the dates she set up for you. You two sat in comfortable silence, soaking in the air of the moment and listening to the cars outside.

After a minute, Kairi spoke again. "It's my turn, isn't it?"

"Mhm." You tried to conceal any leftover nerves that hadn't been calmed by her words, but the idea of her getting your last secret out of you made your heart race quicken.

"Well, truth or dare?"

"Dare," you replied. You suddenly felt somewhat courageous, but part of you also just wanted to avoid any more questions about your nonexistent love life and any possibility of revealing the crush you had on her.

She looked at you and smiled. There was a hint of something in the way her eyes sparkled, but you couldn't discern what it was. "I dare you to kiss me."

Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn't say anything in response. She spoke up to fill the silence and ease your nerves. "You can just use it as practice for the next girl. I'll teach you how to do it, all right?"

"But I..." You tried to still your racing thoughts, but they were a carousel too fast for you to get off of. "I- I thought you were, uh, waiting?  For that special someone, right? Wasn't that what you said?"

"Yup." Her expression didn't change. Her gaze flickered down to your lips, making your heart beat even faster.

"But, Kairi, I-"

"[Y/N], you are that special someone," she said. She cupped your cheek in her palm. Your hand reached up to hers in surprise, touching it to make sure that this wasn't a dream like the ones you'd imagined this whole time. You relaxed against her touch. You felt your body slow down, soaking in her touch and every romantic bit of the moment. She could tell by the way you melted in her hands that you felt the same way about her. This wasn't going to be practice for the next girl. There wasn't even going to be a next girl. You both knew it was only about you and her.

She leaned in with a smile, your faces only inches apart. "So, are you taking the dare or  chickening out?"

You puckered and kissed her harder than you intended, causing a slight ache to start where your inner lips collided against your own teeth. You immediately pulled away, shocked and embarrassed, and mumbled out some apologies. She slid her hand down your cheek so that it was under your chin. She tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to focus on her.

"Look at me. Follow my lead, okay?"

She leaned in again, meeting you since you were now nervous to make the first move. You watched as she parted her lips slightly, allowing yours to sink in the gap between them. You parted yours as well, making the kiss sweeter and softer than just a puckered peck. She tugged gently on your cheek, pulling you towards her just enough to close any spaces between your mouths. She moved her lips against yours after a few moments, starting a second kiss without ever breaking the first. You couldn't tell where her mouth ended and yours began as they melted into one another seamlessly.

You pulled away when it got hard to breathe through your nose. She giggled at your gasp, another small sign of inexperience, and smiled at you. "How was that?" she asked.

You were breathless, both literally and figuratively. You felt like you were floating, completely in a daze after what just happened. "It was really, really good. Thank you."

She blushed at your compliment, but laughed at your innocence. "I'm honored to have been your first," she replied with pride. "You're a fast learner. Not bad at all."

Your cheeks flushed. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Hmm, I think I'll be the judge of that," she said as she leaned in to kiss you again.

[blog4snape]

What if I Meant it? (2)

Pairing: (young) Severus Snape (M) x Reader (F) 

Genre: Fluff with some soft angst

Rating: Citrus (very safe for work)

Summary: A follow-up from the previous chapter. After Severus leaves your classroom, you notice he left his book behind.

Warnings: *spoilers* invasion of privacy

Word Count: 1.7K

Date Written: 9/10/2020

~~~~

June 18th, 1978

After Severus left your classroom in a huff, you sighed, turning your gaze over to the indentation he had left in the pit. He had forgotten his book. You pulled yourself up from your chair and crossed the room to the fortress of pillows, gingerly picking up the discarded item. The book opened naturally to an outlined message, the words smudged from constant touch. Several pages were folded into the shape of a heart with notes written hastily into the inner margins. Curious, you squinted your eyes trying to read the blotched and scribbled writing in the inner corner of the book. Your face flushed, immediately snapping the book shut and holding it farther away from you.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you stared down at the cover of his book. It was an outdated divination book, one he must have gotten from a secondhand book shop for next to nothing. ‘But then again,’ you thought to yourself, ‘all of divination is quite outdated.” You scratched your scalp. 

In your syllabus and throughout the first week of classes, you had expressed that there was no need for any of your students to buy the books. You didn’t require any of your students to purchase divination books, as most of the lessons you taught were hands-on anyway and the books were frankly full of rubbish. Tracing a finger over the worn-out cover, you smiled softly to yourself. Severus was an excellent listener--it couldn’t have been a mishearing--he must have taken an interest in the subject to go out of his way to purchase a divination book. 

‘Or in you.’ The words floated in your head, reminding you of the notes you had just seen scratched into the book still in your hands. 

You sighed, laying in the pit. It was still warm from where Severus had been resting, and you caught a hint of the scent of pine and lavender that would tend to cling to him. You opened the book once more, flipping through the notes he had written.

“That dunderhead Potter wasn’t paying attention to the lesson on Ichthyomancy. He got slapped by the fish we were working with today-”

You laughed, remembering the giant trout that smacked James Potter’s face last week when he decided to mess with it during your lesson after your instruction not to. “You deserved it, Potter,” you laughed, causing other students to follow your footsteps. You said it then and you’d say it again now. 

“-It was pretty great, even the professor laughed at him. She has a cute laugh.” 

As your eyes traveled further down the page, seeing what Severus thought of your laugh made it halt in your throat. Your cheeks burned as you continued to read the comments he wrote. The majority of all of the writing was about divination class- most of them were notes he had written from the lectures. You allowed yourself to have a new teacher’s proud grin, seeing that he was getting a lot out of your lessons. But as you kept turning pages, you found yourself appearing in the margins more and more. Not all of the words were about you, but many of them mentioned you in some way or another. 

‘I told her I had taken quite a liking to ferns. The next week she waved me over after class with a huge smile on her face. She looked so excited. She gave me a tiny fern plant whose sparse fronds had yet to unfurl.’ 

Next to the note was a small doodle of a baby fern. You grinned, it was the cutest drawing you’ve ever seen.

‘She tutored me after class today. She told me to “keep up the good work” and hugged me afterward.’

You nodded, glad to help your students feel more confident in their abilities and glad that Severus Snape was one of them.

‘She baked us biscuits because we all got high marks on the test last week. They tasted good.’

You smiled, happy to know your students liked your gifts. For every test they aced, you would give your students biscuits as a reward. You figured the upperclassmen deserved a treat every now and then, as they’re usually stressing about the OWLs and their NEWT classes.

‘She has pretty eyes.’

Your smile faded. You had to read that line again. You adjusted the book in your hands, moving one hand to your temple. Were you reading that right? 

‘She held me while I cried. It was all I’ve ever wanted. I want her to hold me again.’

‘She doesn’t want to tell me about who she saw that night. But, she didn’t ask me about the werewolf. So I guess I’ll stop asking her. For now.’ 

That night a boggart was in your classroom. You bit your index nail, images of your boggart pressing into your mind. With all that had been happening lately, you didn’t even realize he had stopped asking you but you instantly felt gratitude blossom in your chest. You read the past two notes again, feeling regret at the way you handled the situation. You wished you had been harsher. Any other teacher wouldn’t have given in to his demands. But he wasn’t just your student--he was your old friend.  

‘Her hands are soft.’

Was he just your friend? Your heart thumped, wondering if he only thought of you as his friend, also.

‘I like her plants. She’s got a bunch all over the classroom. Whenever I ask her about one, she gets so excited and tells me all she can about it. I already knew most of it, but I haven’t the heart to interrupt her. I like when she gets passionate about something, and the way she rambles about plants is cute.’

The note was surrounded by small drawings of the plants around your classroom. You stroked the ink outlines of the leaves with an appreciative grin. He was rather talented.

‘She’s so cute when she’s setting something on fire.’

Despite the flush on your cheeks, you chuckled a bit. Divination allowed you to set a lot of things on fire, and sometimes you seemed just a bit too eager. ‘So are you,’ you murmured, thinking of Severus’ passion for learning.

‘She smiled at me today and told me something. I was too focused on her mouth to remember what she said.’ 

You absentmindedly stroked your lips. You took a moment to swear at yourself- urging yourself to stop reading this book, to stop reading Severus’ private feelings, and to stop feeling your own feelings, but you just kept going. 

‘She named one of her plants, “Snargs.” I don’t know why, because it wasn’t even a Snargaluff, but it made me chuckle anyway.’

You smiled at the mention of your plant. Next to the note was a drawing of Snargs, your forever-flowering cactus with the name ‘Snargs’ written in a curly font above the plant. You looked up, seeing Snargs sitting on the high windowsill with his petals dancing in the soft summer breeze. You blew a kiss to him, placing his weekly watering schedule at the back of your mind as you kept reading.

‘She gave me a gift last Christmas. It was a new bag for my books. I saw her staring at the holes in my old bag the month before. The box didn’t have a sender, but I knew it was her. I could smell her perfume on it and it was her handwriting on the note inside.’

Embarrassed, you scratched the inside of your arm. You tried to be sneaky about your gift but it was certainly difficult getting anything past someone as observant as Severus. The two of you didn’t participate in the holiday’s secret santa event, but you could tell he desperately needed a new bag. His previous bag looked a century old, full of holes and nearly falling apart at the seams. His materials constantly fell out of his bag, and you had grown sorrowful every time he had to backtrack with downfallen eyes and a red face to retrieve his dropped items. You knew he didn’t want your pity, and you were afraid if you gave the bag to him in person he’d reject it, so you decided to be as anonymous as possible. You were glad he decided to use it anyway despite knowing where it came from in the end. Smiling, you wondered if he’d accept the gift if it came from anyone else.

Then, for the next few pages shaped like a heart, he had written your name in the margin in his best calligraphy, with pulsing hearts, twinkling stars, blossoming flowers, swimming fish, and tiny sketches of tarot cards. You stared, mesmerized at his magicked art, caressing the moving lines with your fingers. He wrote your names together in a heart, side by side with his. You couldn’t help the smile bubbling onto your curious face as you slowly took in every addition, fiddling with the corner of the dog-eared pages that had been shaped into a heart. You flipped the page, confused--there were tiny hearts drawn around an inky black mass. The mass was a jumble of rough sketch-lines, but they started to move. Your breath caught in your throat as the lines scribbled down on the paper formed an image of you, turning around and smiling. Nothing but astounding brightness was in your features, a direct contrast to the next notes he had written down. 

‘I wonder if she feels the same as I do. She has to, right?’

You just couldn’t answer that question right now. You bit your lip, glancing up at the door as if Severus could burst in at any moment. You sighed, thinking about him as your eyes dropped back to the writing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroked the next horrible words beneath your finger, feeling his self-doubt emanating from the paper.

‘But who could ever like someone like me?’

The next note was a long paragraph, but whatever words you could see were smudged and crossed out. Ink had been spilled on top of the page, the black streaks marring the yellowed pages. The corner of the page was brandished with scorch marks. 

~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading!  These “one-shots” (lol) are from a series called Afterimages of You. Here’s the masterlist for all of the one shots I have posted in the series. a big ol thank you to @thats-mrs-snape-to-you​  @bush-viper-cutie​ and @littl-prince​ for helping me, i love you guys!!

[missroserose]

if you want it, got to bleed for it, baby

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3

or read on AO3

groove to the playlist

ngl, tax season is eating my face.  but I couldn't go much longer without writing a little more smutty angst for these two.  hope y'all enjoy.

Have I mentioned how amazing @anarchist-billy is? Thanks for betaing, love. <3

*

“Stay with me.”  Billy’s voice is low, urgent, a lifeline.  “Keep the pressure on.”

Steve is there, in the passenger seat of the car, holding a wad of paper towels to the gash in his belly—and Steve is the car, too—he feels the warm gold-red glow of the bonfire, demodog corpses and dead vines disappearing into invisible smoke, fading all too quickly from the rear view mirror.  The bass note of the BMW’s V8 thrums deep in his chest, hurtling towards Hawkins at near-lethal speed.  The cool night air roars in his ears as Billy redlines it—he can feel Billy, too, the atavistic satisfaction of driving this amazing machine, of pressing it to its limits—

The fire disappears, and the outside world is nothing but a dark blur.  No streetlights, no trees, nothing to indicate it even exists. Even their movement fades into a queer sense of unmotion, a bubble of existence floating in the endless void.  The glow of the dashboard lights on Billy’s expression, drawn and set.  The rumble of the car, rearing to meet the challenge.  The just-warm air blasting from the heater.  Van Halen on the radio, staticky signal fading in and out over the road and wind noise.  I been to the edge, and there I stood and looked down—

“We’re nearly there.  Harrington.  Hold on a little longer.”

Billy’s lying through his teeth.  Steve knows he’s lying; he’s driven this road any number of times since he got his license.  Floored the gas, the same way Billy’s doing now, felt his car eat up the thirty-eight miles of two-lane blacktop, straightaway snaking between forest and farmland.  Rolled down the windows and whooped, Tommy in the passenger seat, Carol and whatever girl Steve was seeing that week in the back, all of them chasing the horizon at breakneck speeds.  Not for jubilation, or anger, or any reason in particular; just...because they were bored.  Because they could—because they were young and free and would live forever, would be friends forever—

“What’s the rush?”  Steve has to almost issue a conscious order to make himself smile, like he’s giving his face instructions over a long-distance phone call.  “I’m the King.  They’ll wait for me.”

Billy doesn’t look at him—can’t, at the speeds he’s driving—but his shoulders seem to loosen a fraction.  “Guess that depends,” he says, threadbare bravado thin at the edges.  “You don’t make it, there’s only one king left.  Makes my life awful easy.”

Beer spilled down a bare chest.  Red punch on a white blouse.  Bullshit.  Tea roses and spunk and sweat and blue eyes on his in the bathroom mirror.  “Maybe it does,” Steve says, trying not to let his words run together the way his thoughts are doing.  “But that’s not what you want.”

There’s a gap opening up, a space between the two of them; it takes Steve a moment to notice the knuckles, tense on the steering wheel.  Billy opens his mouth, says something; a moment later, the words unfurl in Steve’s consciousness, time-delayed.  “Like anyone gives a shit about what I want.”

Steve laughs a little, at that.  “That’s the first lesson of being king, Hargrove.”  He swallows, with some difficulty; his throat feels thick.  “You’re not there for you.  Every fool who wants a favor, every damsel in distress, every asshole determined to get a piece of King Billy…” He trails off, seeing a crown amidst those golden curls in a bathroom mirror, set over heated blue eyes, lips parting in a look of mingled awe and desire—

“Hey.  Hey!  Harrington!”  Billy’s slapping at his face, one hand flapping ineffectually against his skin, just hard enough to force his consciousness to surface.  Steve doesn’t particularly want to surface; there’s something looming there, not terror, but a shadow of it, a formless dread.  Like the first time his parents had gone out of town, and he hadn’t been smart enough to put the breakables away before he threw the obligatory kegger.  He’d spent three days waiting for his mother to return and discover one of her Hummel figurines missing, only to have her so preoccupied with his father’s latest fling that she’d left before noticing—

“Don’t you dare.”  Billy’s voice is a growl, but there’s something beneath it that catches Steve’s unmoored attention.  “Steve.  Don’t you fucking dare die on me now.  You ruined my night, you pulled me out here to chase down God knows what those rabid alien dog-things were, you’re going to pull through this and you’re going to give me a fucking explanation—”

Steve gives a small laugh, even though it hurts like a bitch.  “I’m really fucked, aren’t I?”

Billy bites off his rant like a piece of taffy.  “What?”

Steve issues the order to smile again, feels his face sort-of obey.  “You called me Steve.  It must be bad.”

“Not that bad,” Billy says, almost believable, as if he can change the state of the world through sheer stubborn insistence.  “You’re gonna pull through this.  You’ve got to.  When the school hears about how I saved your ass?  It’s gonna be a riot, Harrington.”

Steve could almost laugh again, but it hurts too much.  With an effort, he diverts his reaction, reaches for bitterness instead, bile like he’s swallowing down in the back of his throat.  The school.  Graduation.  The future.  A dark unknown, filled with people whose eyes slide away from his, in respect or in contempt—“You’ve already had my ass.  What do you care about the rest?”  The gap between them is opening up again.  Steve has a mental image for a moment of trying to leap that gap, of hanging in the air over it for a beautiful moment—wonders if people would see him then, shining golden before the inevitable plummet to the nothingness below—

But Billy’s voice is stubborn, penetrating.  “Did you hit your head when that alien tackled you?  Of course I want the rest.  The way you swung that bat? Waded into that fight without a damn hitch?”  Billy’s voice cracks a little, in disbelief, or in awe.  “That’s King Steve.  Not that namby-pamby asshole who haunts the hallways at school.”

And something in that voice pulls Steve towards the looming terror, away from the peaceful dark.  He presses the paper towels harder to his gut, ignores the sharp pain this elicits.  “Didn’t think you were looking for a king, Hargrove.”

A pause, brief and endless.  Steve slips a little, tossed about in stormy waves, uncertain which way to the shore, uncertain which way is up—

Then Billy’s voice comes in, low and smoky, a beam from a lighthouse parting the dark.  “I jerk off at night thinking about your lips on me.”  Steve’s suddenly aware of his lips as they part slightly, but Billy’s continuing, words gushing from him like water from a burst pipe.  “I haven’t bent you over your kitchen counter yet.  Haven’t felt your cock twitch between my lips as you come down my throat—”

The words are gathering somewhere deep in Steve’s hips, insistent warmth, flickering but stubborn in the face of the terror.  The words fall into his mind, and he drops them without thought, uncaring, because who even cares at this point?  “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

A breath sucked between teeth.  A glance, briefly risked, at Steve’s face, as if gauging his seriousness.  “You want it in a bed, pretty boy?”

“I want you.  In my bed.”  The paper towels are growing wet between his fingers.  “Empty house.  Nobody to hear us slam the headboard against the wall.”  He presses a little harder; the lance of pain stabs through him, but the image in his mind is bright as he gives a half-wrecked gasp.

Billy seems to shudder at that gasp.  “Hell yes,” he says, seeming to almost relax for a moment.  “Gonna hear you good and proper as you come—”

“Gonna feel you under me when I do,” Steve says, words tumbling forward heedless, headlong.  “Billy.  You’re gonna feel me inside you as you shake apart.  Gonna walk around the next day still feeling it, and I’m gonna watch you—”

“Fuck—” Billy’s grip is white against the steering wheel now, fingers torqued tight.  “Steve,” he says, his voice rough.  “Promise me something.”

“Sure.”  The words are fading, growing further away, but Steve struggles, holds his head up.  Tries to read Billy’s expression, the hesitation in his voice.  “If I can.”

“Next time we see each other, it’s just you.”  Billy licks his lips.  “Just you and me.  No kids, no party, no—nothing.  We’ll tear the phone out of the wall if we have to.  Just...just us.”

Steve reaches for a careless smile.  Ignores the sudden empty fluttering in his chest.  Isn’t certain if he manages either.  “Gotta settle up who’s king for good and all, huh?”

“Yeah.”  Billy settles back into the seat, though tension still thrums through his body with the engine.  Overhead, the first of the streetlights flashes by, briefly illuminating his face, determined, desperate.  “Yeah, something like that.”

[oiikawabii]

thrill

tendou x fem reader

work has been kicking my ass so this took me forever to finish

Horror stories by the camp fire take a turn after a little bit of teasing from Tendou

tw and cw: ns//fw, dubcon, mentions of death/killing

The fire burned brightly in front of your face, crackling with sparks flying around. There’s a small group with you, going around sharing stories and such.

A guy starts, putting down his drink and rubbing his hands together. “Okay, my turn! It’s about a haunting in a forest, right-”

“You always tell this story, tell us something different for once!” A girl complains.

“Oh, come on the story isn’t that bad. Plus, there’s some people here who haven’t heard it.” He argues.

“Well, if you don’t wanna hear his story then I can share mine.” The group’s attention is drawn to the red haired male.

“I’d rather hear Tendou’s story.”

He smiles, beginning his story. “It’s usually on nights like this, when it’s chilly but girls are still out in their dresses and skirts, still walking home alone because they think the only worry might be the weather. They were always so easy to pick up, especially with his charm. It’s always the ones with mommy issues that are so fucking charming. Anyone would want to get into a car with a guy like him, fuck a guy like him. He never seemed like he could be a problem and none of them really had enough brains to remember that their mom told them to not talk to strangers, nonetheless let one pick them up. But that was the best part, because he didn’t have a lot of work to do at that point. He just had to get them in his little hiding spot and wait for the perfect moment to strike!”

Tendou clears his throat, eyes on his hands as he starts the next part. “And he had a certain tactic, technique if you will, when it came to his victims. Each and every one of them were whores, sluts, but he still wanted them to be pretty. He’d dress them up, making them look doll-like and docile before he killed them. And if he couldn’t then he’d make sure to clean them up a bit, getting rid of their tears streaked makeup and the smeared lip gloss of lipstick they were wearing. Each one of them had to be presentable. Nobody wants an uggo on the autopsy table.”

“That’s sickening.” Someone comments.

“He’d make them sit on their knees, hands folded in their lap,” He comes up behind you, of all people, gripping your chin and pulling your head up to expose your neck. “Then he’d run a nice thin line right into their throat, watching the life drain from their eyes.” He makes a sound effect as his thumb runs across your throat, pressing deeply into the skin as if he could actually cut you. “It’s pretty to watch the white of their eyes fade to blue.” He says, looking directly into your eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, body shifting in its place, but you honestly don’t know if it’s due to uncomfortability or something else. That crazed look in his eyes, it scares you, but it makes your emotions spiral in different directions too.“You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m serious!” He laughs. “Pretty necks like yours always end up making the bloodiest of messes.”

You flinch away from his touch, leaving the whole group laughing like it was something funny. Honestly, you probably would’ve been laughing too if it weren’t you in that situation. Instead, you just felt… you still didn’t really know how you felt.

“Yeah, whatever, tell us something we haven’t heard before. What’s next, the killer fucked their dead bodies? He chopped them up in pieces?” You scoff. “Your story is shit and you’re just playing out the shock factor.”

“Can you just shut up and listen?”

“No one wants to hear your predictable story-”

“And no one wants to hear a dumb bimbo like you complain over some horror story.” He interrupts. He’s looking down on you, a sly smile plastering his face like he’s mocking you. “With that attitude, you might end up as one of his next victims.”

You can feel your heart thump in your chest. It’s starting to race by the second and being met with the crazed eyes of Tendou made you feel sick. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Because you love it.” He wraps his body around you, shaking you around in his grasp, “Such a cute little thing always attracting big bad monsters, you deserve to know the truth!”

You struggle away from his body, sneering, “You’re an asshole, Tendou,” before walking off. You swear, Tendou had it out for you tonight, and the last thing you needed was to deal with his bullshit.

You find yourself in one of the bedrooms throughout the house, still fuming to yourself. You’re doing anything to calm yourself down; scrolling through your phone, drinking, hell, even meditating at a fucking party of all places. You don’t know why you lashed out, it was irrational. But, you just felt mocked. It’s like you could still feel his taunting gaze. Even being alone couldn’t grant you peace.

There’s a knock on the door and without an answer it’s being swung open, making you jump up to your feet. In comes Tendou, grinning with all his glory. “I Honestly thought you left the party.”

Eyes rolling at the sight of him, you cross your arms. “I can’t leave yet, my ride is getting laid. And why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“Yeah, if arrogance and crudeness was nothing I would agree.” You snap, making your way towards the door. “I honestly don’t know how people are able to put up with you most of the time.” It slams shut before you’re even two feet in front of it. “What, not gonna let me go now?”

His face softens and for a second you think he might be serious. “Look, I get I can say messed up things, but it was just for a story, it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. It’s not my fault you have feelings for me that you can’t deal with.”

“I swear to god, you’re unbelievable.”

He cackles in your face. Patronizing, that’s the perfect word to describe this feeling he’s giving you. It’s patronizing and it makes you feel inferior. “You act like you’re so special! Like you fucking matter! You know, I got you all figured out.”

You back away, giving a scowl. “What game are you playing at, Tendou?”

“Mm? Nothing. I’m sure it’s you who’s playing the game.” He takes a step closer, then another. You don’t even realize that he’s got you backed against the wall until your shoulders thud against it. “Tell me what your game is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, doing your best to put some space between the two of you.

“You don't? Because I think you want to play a little game of cat and mouse; killer and victim. You like this, huh, the thought of being at someone’s mercy? That’s why you’re being a bitch! You’re not mad at what I said, you’re upset because you imagined that girl to be you and you wanted a different ending. You wanted to be the girl that’s spared, you wanted to be the one that gets to say ‘I love you’. That’s what gets you going. But, she died and that’s the last thing you want. Tell me I’m wrong.”

You purse your lips, holding back your words because silence was better than your admission. But, even then his words were harsh and cut deep at your skin.

“Oh, that’s right, you can’t! Because I’m not wrong.” He cackles. His body presses into yours, taking a deep, long breath. “You’re sick, absolutely sick. I hope you know that.”

You make the rash decision to push him off and dip under his arm, moving for the door. But it’s too late. You’re already trapped in a small place, between the bed, the wall, and him. You wouldn’t even be able to make a run for the door again without him stretching over and snatching you up.

“Aw, trying to run now? It’s your game, I’m just playing along.”

Your eyes roll, displaying false confidence that’s easy to see through. “What do you want from me, an apology for being a bitch? Like, I’m sorry I didn’t like your story and you’re right, it was fantastic. Just leave me alone, okay?”

His arms raise and swing around, and for a second you think he’s gonna hit you until they fall gently on your shoulders in an over exaggerated manner. “Your apology is nice, but it’s the last thing I’m looking for right now.” The weight of his hands start to crush your shoulders, pushing you further and further down until your knees hit the carpet. “Are you afraid?”

Your lips purse as you shake your head.

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneers. “I’m gonna ask you again: are you afraid?”

This time you nod, squeezing your eyes tight so no tears will fall. Your lip is starting to go numb from how hard you’re biting it. You were scared, absolutely terrified, but there’s a buzz throughout your body that has your full attention on his words.

“And you’re getting off on this too, aren’t you?” He laughs. His hand caresses your cheek, thumb swiping adoringly over the hot skin. There was nothing better than having a quivering girl right below him at his mercy. Even better that it’s you because, if you like it then he isn’t really doing anything wrong. He doesn’t even realize his hand has traveled down to your neck, giving it a little squeeze until you’re trying to paw him off. The look on your face is hysterical; red cheeks, glistening lips, puppy-dog eyes, such a fuckable face.

Nonetheless, his hand continues to tighten around your throat, the rough pads of his fingers crushing your trachea. Your cries turn into shallow breaths that soon turn into choked gasps. God, even in a position like this your thighs are clenching together, writhing to ease the heat between them. Soft fingers claw at the back of his hand, nails raking down the bony hand in a futile effort to get him off.

You’re almost sure he’s gonna just let you pass out, then keep going until your lips go purple. At this point, you can hardly breathe, hardly make out the figure in front of you. You can only focus on the throbbing in the front of your head from the lack of oxygen.

Tendou laughs at the way your head starts to loll. That’s finally when he releases your neck, hands shooting up in the air innocently. “Sorry about that, just needed to test the limits a bit.” He’s laughing like it was a joke, like it was funny that he was choking you out just a second ago.

You hunch over and greedily huff to make up for the oxygen that you oh-so missed. Your hand lands on your throat, trying to soothe the ache that his warm fingers left.

The metal of his belt clinks together as he hurriedly undoes it. He moves quickly at removing his aching cock from its confinement, pre already leaking from the furiously red tip. Before you can even register, his fingers are twisted in your hair, pushing your cheek down onto his crotch. You whimper when you feel wetness slide across your face. “Shh, shh,” He coos. “It’s all gonna be alright. Just do what you’re supposed to do.”

Your brows furrow at his words.

“Come on, don’t be shy now.” He taunts. “It’s not like it’s serious or anything, it’s just a game, right?” He uses his thumb to pry open your mouth--not much prying though when you basically open it willingly. He takes the opportunity of your wide open mouth to shove himself inside, making you gag out of surprise.

Your throat constricts around him, as he goes further down your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs to help you break away from his force on the back of your head, but they’re quickly slapped away. God, your mouth felt so good around him. He keeps going until he reaches a hilt, groaning when you take him all in. He stills for a moment, head thrown back in a bliss before pulling back and letting you have air again.

There’s a sniffle from you as you wipe at your face. You look up at him, his eyes telling you to keep going. You grab him with a little hand and wrap those lips right around him using the flat of your tongue to drag down the veins. Easing him into your mouth, your cheeks hollow as your head bobs up and down.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks you as if you could answer him. “If I was that killer from the story, I would’ve killed you by now. You talk too much, there’s nothing valuable going on in your head and you’re definitely anything but innocent.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you down. His hips grind into your mouth, groaning at the way choke. Your cheeks puff with air in an attempt to breathe, only to have it slowly puff out your mouth around him.

“Not to mention the fact that you fucking humiliated me! I should kill you just for that alone. Though, I don't think I would be able to get away with it; I’m not the neatest.”

His movements are rough. Your scalp burns from how much he’s pulling at the hair and obviously your throat hurts every time he hits the back of it. There’s squelching and a gargling with every thrust he makes.

Even if you didn’t want to die, even if you so desperately wanted to be the final girl, you probably would let him kill you. Just to see how it would feel, see how much he would violate you before taking your last breath. Same experience, different outcome.

He pets your cheek, pulling the taut skin. “If I were to kill you, it would be dragged out. I would see how much use out of you I could get until you become useless. I would give you hope, give you trust, let you know that I truly do appreciate you being around. But, then I would let that all slowly crumble away until the final string is drawn and I’m left with your lifeless body.”

Truly, it did fascinate you with the way he talked about killing you. You didn’t know if you wanted to hear more or if you wanted him to shut up. But, you did know that despite everything in your body telling you this was wrong, you liked this type of attention. There was something so different, so degenerate about it that had you hooked.

“I guess we’re both sick. We’re basically a perfect match.” He jokes.

There’s that signature pop as he lets you release your mouth from him. His own hand wraps around himself, matching the pace he was just at. Tendou moans loudly, his voice ringing in your ears along with the soft clicks that come with him sliding his hand down his cock. You watch idly with the way his hand squeezes, the way his hips buck, the way his face contorts. Only then do you remember the position you’re in; sucking dick to imitate the incomparable rush of fearing for your life. You were nasty, sick even, just like he told you. It doesn’t help that you’re letting him open your mouth and cum inside. And when he asked you to swallow, you did.

“Get on the bed.” He tells you. Maybe it was more of a demand, but you were gonna listen either way. “On all fours.” You shift your body onto your hands and knees at the foot of the bed. He snickers from behind you, “Can’t believe you’re actually listening to me. You’ve been so good through all of this.” His hand runs down the small of your back and you shiver when you feel cold hands flip up your skirt and place themselves on your ass.

“You’re wet, just so you know.” He says, staring at the damp spot. Two fingers hook around the fabric and pull it down. His touch is experimental, tentative as he slides his fingers between your folds. “Fits for someone as depraved as you are.”

“I’m not depraved.” You finally say and whining when you feel his fingers enter your cunt. They squelch, moving in and out and gathering more of your slick on his fingers.

“Oh really? You got turned on at the thought that I might choke you out, you willingly sucked me off, and now… now you have a flood between your legs after all of this.”

His fingers curl against your spongy walls, thrusting them fast. You pant and moan into your hand, your hole clenching around him. Your thighs squeeze together, only increasing your pleasure. “Tendou, please don’t stop!”

“Huh, what was that?” His pace slows, but his fingers reach deeper than before and it makes you shudder when he’s able to hit that spot with his fingers alone.

“Ah- fuck- Tendou!”

A few more thrusts from his fingers have you convulsing before he comes to a full stop. “Oh, you wanted me to stop, thought those words sounded familiar.”

You turn around to look at him and that sly grin that seems to never leave. He holds up the two fingers that were just inside you, a clear liquid glistening in the light. “But I, but-”

He wipes his fingers down on your chest. “What did you think after being a bitch to me half the time I would let you cum tonight? Poor girl,” He pets down the hairs that stood up on your head. “Looks like our game is over and--despite how much of a slut you are--you made it out as the final girl! You basically got what you wanted, so you should be grateful. Bye bye, my little mouse.” He sings.

And just like that he’s gone, leaving you feeling cold and empty in more than one way.

[sombreboy]

Bad kitten ☼ yandere!jhs x hybrid!reader

▎18+ ▎ xtremity; 6 ▎ pairing: jhs x hybrid!y/n ▎ genre:smut, hybrid!au ▎ word count: 3.3k ▎ warnings: cursing, petnames, dirtytalk, controlling/obsessive/manipulative jhs, toxic relationship, stockholm syndrome-esque themes, hoseok threatens jin's owner, punishment blowjob

Request by anon: may I request a hybrid reader x yandere owner hoseok where he adopts her & keeps her in the apartment to protect her. She's soft/innocent from and happily agrees🥺, but it turns out she's been sneaking out when he's gone to play with the neighbor's hybrid (jin) bc he comes home to find her "'missing". If Hoseok punishes her, I'm going to leave details up to you.

''Hello, little kitten.''

Hoseok crouched down next to your sitting stature in the little room you were in. He'd come to the shelter to adopt a new pet, and his eyes immediately had been drawn to your picture in the list of available hybrids.

That's when he decided to come visit you, the shy little cat hybrid that was idly sitting on your bed with a book. You seemed calm, a little reserved, and incredibly adorable. Just his type. You hadn't seen the outside world much, spending most of your life in shelters. How somebody hadn't adopted you yet was beyond his knowledge, but he was also thrilled that you were gonna be his.

''Hello, Mister.'' You glanced up at him, a slight blush on your cheeks at his close proximity. He was crouched down, eyes soft and a small smile on his lips that showed off his handsome features, little dimples pushing on his cheeks as if an angel had left deep kisses on them.

''What's your name?'' He already knew your name, but he wanted to hear you say it yourself. Your voice was so sweet, so tiny, like honey in his eardrums.

''I'm Y/N.'' You reply, shutting your book closed and putting it in your lap, fingers lightly fiddling with the cover of it. Your cheeks reddened further when you felt him sit down on the bed next to you.

''Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi.''

You nodded, trying out his name quietly like a whisper, ''Hobi..''

He smiled wider, a fluttering in his chest erupting like butterflies.

''Hey, how would you like to come live with me, hm?''

Your eyes widened, your hair whipping in the air when you rapidly turn to look at him, a look of shock and disbelief painted across your face,

''W-what? You mean–''

He nods, a bright smile on his lips as he reaches out to move strands of hair away from your face,

''All I gotta do is fill out the paperwork, and you're mine. But I wanted to ask you first. Would you like to be my pet?''

He was only partially lying, he hadn't filled out the paperwork yet, but he knew he was gonna do it whether you wanted it or not. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered. But making you feel like you had a choice in this would make this whole thing a much more positive experience.

You wrap your arms around him in a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. He caresses your chair, inhaling your scent as if you were a drug.

''Yes.... Thank you, Hobi...'' You almost sobbed, and he sighed with content. You were all he ever wanted.

''I promise to protect you forever.''

Since Hoseok had brought you home to his lavish apartment, you felt like you had it all. You got proper food, new clothes that he picked out for you (he loved dressing you up in cute little summer dresses to please his eye.), and he even let you use his gaming consoles as much as you wanted. You weren't great at it, but being able to entertain yourself was important to him, since he rarely let you out of the apartment. You never thought much of it, as this was the way you were used to live since the shelter, yet it felt like you had freedom because you had this grand apartment filled with luxuries to explore and play with. He surely was doing well for himself. He didn't talk much about what he does for work, but as far as you understood, he was a famous performer.

The only time he took you outside was when you were with him, shopping or eating out. Occasionally, he'd take you for small events and festivals just to see the amazed look on your face from all the things you've never seen before.

At one occasion you'd asked him if you could go outside by yourself, for which he had a concerned look on his face, cupping your cheeks as he stared at your face,

''It's dangerous outside, my kitten. I wouldn't want you to get lost or hurt, so you can never leave the apartment without me. You understand that do you?''

You lean your cheek into his hand with a small smile, ''Okay, Hobi.''

He presses a soft kiss on your nose, ''I only say this because I love you. I don't know what I'd do if you were to get hurt or taken away from me.''

You scrunch your nose, a small giggle rolling off your lips.

Hoseok smiles, his thumbs stroking your ceeks with a fond expression on his face, ''You understand, right? Tell me.''

''I understand. I won't go anywhere without you.''

He smiles with a pleased sigh, pressing his forehead against yours,

''You're such a good girl. I'm heading to work now, I'll be back tonight.''

You nod, staying obediently in the couch as he heads for the door. He stops for a moment to look back at you, smiling,

''Call me if you need anything, I'll bring home your favourite dinner tonight. Love you, kitten.''

''I love you too, Hobi. Have a nice day at work!''

He winks before closing the door behind him, the sound of him locking the door from the outside echoing before hearing his footsteps slowly fading as he leaves for work.

Now, you loved Hoseok with every fibre of your being. He took care of you, fed you, kept a roof over your head, and provided you with every drop of affection that you ever needed. You were so, so happy & lucky to have an owner like him.

And you were grateful, you truly were. But... You had one little secret. Just a tiny, teeny one. No big deal.

A few weeks ago you were sitting on the balcony of the apartment, enjoying the sunshine and a cold glass of milk. It was a regular, perfect day.

Suddenly, a sweet, honey-laced voice had caught your attention from the balcony next to yours. They were fairly close, so you could clearly see the handsome face of the man sitting on the balcony with a bright smile on his plush lips.

''Hey, neighbour!'' He exclaimed, holding up his glass of a soda and ice. The ice in the glass clinked as he held it up, pretending that he was clashing it with yours before taking a loud chug, followed by an overexaggerated 'ahh!'

You giggled, mirroring his movements as you finished off your milk. Glancing over at him, he had his eyes completely fixed on you, the way the sun lit up his beautiful features had you blushing quite a bit.

''Hello.'' You reply timidly.

His smile remained on his lips, ''I haven't seen another hybrid around for a while, it's refreshing to the eyes,'' He said, inhaling deeply for continuing, ''You smell nice.. I mean, for a cat.''

You scrunched your nose, the small fangs of yours poking out with your smile, ''Likwise, I mean.. for a dog.''

Jin laughed, the sound was slightly obnoxious, but nothing less than infectious. You couldn't help but smile, the light conversation made you happy. It had you slightly confused, Hoseok had told you that everyone except him are dangerous.

Everyone wants to hurt you, or even take you away from me.

His words echoed in the back of your mind, and your smile faltered with it. Seokjin noticed, and a concenered smile played on his lips.

''So, you're Mr. Hoseok's new pet?''

Your ears perked up, tail slightly whipping behind you,

''You know Hobi?''

Seokjin shrugged, ''We're aquainted. He's friends with my owner... But they haven't hung out in a while.''

You felt a little better knowing that this hybrid knows Hoseok. So maybe it gave you a little reassurance that this was okay. This hybrid was nice and easy to talk to.

''By the way, where is he now?'' Seokjin asked.

''He's at work.''

Jin stood up, his tail wagging so hard that his hips moved with it,

''You should come over, my owner finally got me a new kitchen set that I'd love to use, but it's no fun cooking for myself! Maybe you wanna help me?''

You felt excited, nodding heavily before your shoulder sank once more,

''I can't get out though....''

Jin crooked an eyebrow, ''Why not?''

''The door is locked....''

Seokjin seemed concerned, ''You can't open it... from the inside?''

You shook your head, ''It doesn't have anything on it except a hole for his keys.''

''Well, you're a cat hybrid. Just jump over here, I'll catch you.''

You guess you could, you were quite agile. But the continuous words of Hoseok kept replaying in the back of your head, but the excitement of seeing your new friends was stronger. Hobi knew him, and he was so much fun. You were sure this wasn't a big deal.

''Okay!''

And just like that, weeks had gone by of Hoseok going to work, and you sneaking over to Seokjin's through the balcony to play. It surely was innocent, experiencing new flavours of food and pastries, seeing movies you didn't even know existed. You grew quite close, and it became natural to spend time with Seokjin, the dog hybrid. Your best friend.

One early afternoon, Hoseok had been able to get the rest of the day off due to his schedule being cancelled, so he thought he'd come home to surprise you with some new outfits and toys. The smile on his face quickly faded when he stepped inside of the apartment, and noticed that it was completely quiet.

Usually you'd be sprinting into his arms by now.

''Kitten? I'm home!''

He put the bags on the floor along with his jacket, running his hands through his hair as he strode to your bedroom only to find it empty.

He practically ran to check all other rooms, his heart pounding so hard in his ribcage that it felt like it would burst. With worry, and with anger.

''Y/N?! This isn't funny! If this is some fucking prank–'' The crease between his brows was strong, but he was silenced when he heard what sounded like your laugh. But it wasn't from here. Was he going crazy?

Hoseok noticed the balcony door was open, so he went outside. That's when he heard your giggle once more from the balcony next to his, the door creaked open on that side as well.

His blood was boiling. You'd broken his one and only rule? Somebody else was making you happy?

If he had no self control left he would've just jumped over to the balcony, but he had to keep his composure. He didn't want to draw any unecessary attention towards himself.

''What a bad kitten...'' He sighed as if he didn't want to say those words, quietly walking back inside, leaving the balcony door open for you.

He considered going over there and bring you back, but he figured he'd see just how long you were staying there. And, as he figured, let you enjoy the last time you'd see that dog hybrid. Actually... He couldn't wait, but he figured out one way to speed up your return.

Hoseok called his neighbour and owner of Seokin, Namjoon. They hadn't spoken outside of work for a while, for good reason. After quite a few long seconds, he answered.

''What do you want?'' Namjoon said in a cold voice.

''It's come to my knowledge that your dog has been playing with my kitten lately.'' Hoseok chuckled lightheartedly, ''I don't remember allowing this.''

Namjoon 'hmm'-ed for a second, ''I wasn't aware you had a new pet.''

''Well, I do... and I'd really recommend for you to tell your dog to stop seeing my kitten if you don't wanna have to get a new pet as well.''

Namjoon remained quiet for a second before exhaling a sigh, ''Fine. Now please don't call me outside of work.''

With that, Hoseok hung up with a victorious smile on his lips, leaning back into the couch as he waited for you.

''I should head back, it's getting late...'' You looked at the clock, knowing that Hoseok should be home from work soon. Jin nodded, giving you a hug before whispering into you ear,

''I'll miss you.''

''I'll be back tomorrow, don't miss me too much.'' You giggle as you hug him back before withdrawing, walking out on his balcony. Quietly and with precision, you jump over back to your side before sneaking back inside. The apartment was dark, and you got startled when you heard your owners voice from the couch when you walked by.

''And where have you been, kitten?''

You freeze, turning towards his stature sitting in the dark, but you can see him clearly, a perk from being a cat hybrid.

''A-ah, Hobi! You're home early...'' You stutter out.

He chuckled as he stood up and sauntered closer to you, one hand reaching up to grasp onto your jaw,

''I got home early to surprise you, but it seems like you don't care about me anymore. Hm?''

You shook your head, ''T-that's not true!''

He tils his head to the side, biting his lower lip to prevent it from trembling with anger. His eye twitched with his next words,

''Then why would you do this me, Y/N? I had one rule... And you broke it! How long have you been sneaking over to that filthy dog, huh?!''

You flinch at his words, feeling the guilt wash over you, his words hitting you like a truck. You hated when he was disappointed or angry at you.

''I'm s-sorry... I didn't think it was a big deal, he was nice to me, and–''

''That's how they manipulate you, Y/N! Everyone seems nice, but truly he wanted to take you away from me! He wanted to break us apart, is that what you wanted?! You're too naive for this outside world!''

His voice raised with every word, almost yelling at you at this point. You shrunk beneath him, feeling small and vulnerable as he cupped your cheeks to look up at his face. His eyes softened when he saw tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

''Kitten,'' He sighed, ''I'm sorry for yelling... I..I just can't stand the thought of losing you. I got so worried when you weren't where you were supposed to be. You understand that, right?''

You nodded.

''Tell me you understand.''

''I u-understand, Hobi... I'm sorry, I'm sorry...''

He smiled, ''Good girl... Now, I know you would never intentionally hurt me, but I have to teach you a lesson now... I have to punish you, so that you know who you belong to.''

You swallowed tightly, looking up at him. He swiped your escaping tears away from your cheeks.

''You will take my punishment like a good girl, and I will forgive you.''

''Y-yes... Anything.''

''Get on your knees.''

As if your body was remoted by his commands, you instantly dropped to your knees in front of him. He turned on the TV to get a dimmed light, to be able to see you just enough. The sight below him was one of his favourites, making him feel in control of you, and the look on your eyes of wanting to please him.

''You're so fucking pretty, kitten.''

A small smile pulled on your lips, yet sitting still as you know he likes to control your every move. He put his hands on his hips, a dominant posture of his as he stares down at you,

''Undo my belt and take off these pants for me, my love.''

You obey, your small hands struggling to undo his belt at first, the embarrassment on your face and blush on your cheeks another turn on for Hoseok. You looked so small.

When the zipper finally come undone, you pull down his pants to his thighs.

''Underwear too.''

He watched your movements, your delicate hands pulling down at the hems of his boxers until his cock is revealed to you. It wasn't hard yet, idly waiting for your attention.

''If you hadn't been such an obedient pet, I would've already been rock hard for you...''

''I-I'm sorry..''

He clacked his tongue, ''Words doesn't mean anything, kitten. You better work for my cum now... Go on, suck on it.''

You lean in, hands placed in your lap as you take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as your eyes peer up at his expression. He was focused, a crease between his brows as he stared down at you with a piercing gaze.

''There you go... I'm already getting hard for you.. Much better than your words.''

He groans quietly when you take down his entire length into your mouth, easier done when he's only half erect. You gag after a few bobs when his cock grew in your mouth to full erection, letting his cock go with a pop of your lips to breathe.

His hand suddenly flies out to grasp your hair, pulling you back in to shove his cock down your throat.

''I didn't say you could stop, kitten. Keep sucking.''

You whimper, a muffled sound that made his cock twitch in your throat as he held you in place, now guiding your movements back and forth to feel your warm tongue stroke against the bottom of his length.

''You understand why I'm disappointed in you, don't you?''

He moves his hips, fucking into your mouth starting at a gentle rhythm that slowly grows rougher with every few strokes,

''You understand that you hurt me, didn't you?''

Muffled sounds escape your throat, drool dripping down from your mouth to pool at the floor. He is now pistoning his hips into your mouth, the wet squelching noise of your wet throat, feeling the way your insides contract.

''Breathe through your nose, kitten,'' He whispers with a strained voice, ''I'm gonna cum down your throat, and you're gonna swallow it all. Then, I will not give you any pleasure, you don't deserve it.''

Your eyes screw shut, focusing hard on breathing as your hands clench into fists in your lap, letting him mouthfuck you to his content. You wanted him to be proud of you, to be pleased with you.

Without warning, he gives a few rough, long strokes into your mouth before his hips freeze, cock shoved deep down your throat as he cums. Several hot, thick ropes of cum spill down your throat, feeling it dribble down and heat up your insides, a low guttural moan vibrating in his chest.

Hoseok keeps still for a moment until he's absolutely sure he's given you every last drop of himself before pulling himself out of you, crouching down until he's eye level with you, his hand letting go of your hair moving to caress your cheek.

''Swallow.''

You swallow obediently with a loud gulp.

''Show me what a good girl you are.''

You open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out to show him that you swallowed everything. He hums with content, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on your lips.

''I forgive you. Now let's heat up the food I brought, it's your favourite.''

You smiled at his words, letting him take your hand in his after he buckles his belt back on, leading you to the kitchen with him to prepare the dinner.

Nothing made you happier than hearing that he loves you.

He took care of you, fed you, kept a roof over your head, and provided you with every drop of affection that you ever needed. You were so, so happy & lucky to have an owner like him.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.