#I keep wondering how early I should get there for a front row space. I know some US north-easters were getting there hours ahead of time

[vimbry]

I honestly keep forgetting that, not only will I get to see a band I love this november, but I'll probably run into people from here there too ?? which is cool

[freelancearsonist]

Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to. 

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs. 

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt. 

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome. 

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less. 

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

[deepdarkdelights]

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window. 

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow. 

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated. 

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods. 

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.  

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit. 

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious. 

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.   

If only you had known what was to come. 

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so. 

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move. 

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker. 

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first. 

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment. 

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen. 

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was. 

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over. 

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat. 

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room. 

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked. 

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself. 

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one. 

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands. 

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well. 

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes. 

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat. 

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner. 

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap. 

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste. 

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat. 

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door. 

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones. 

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well. 

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey. 

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied. 

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air. 

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you. 

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them. 

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated. 

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself  as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time. 

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you. 

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town. 

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold. 

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin. 

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety. 

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had. 

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed. 

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him. 

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had. 

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.  

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf. 

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while. 

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder. 

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away. 

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself. 

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you. 

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath. 

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls. 

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place. 

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber. 

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more. 

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?” 

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash. 

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name. 

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made. 

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done. 

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.” 

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form. 

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.” 

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried. 

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door. 

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.” 

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made. 

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting. 

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon. 

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth. 

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red. 

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees. 

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest. 

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home. 

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off. 

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly. 

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them. 

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow. 

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you? 

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better. 

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people. 

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of. 

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience. 

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips. 

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace. 

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping. 

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat. 

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them. 

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice. 

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive. 

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight. 

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you. 

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other. 

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door. 

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother. 

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken. 

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths. 

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders. 

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women. 

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more. 

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring. 

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots. 

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon. 

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills. 

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive. 

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather. 

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods. 

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop. 

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood. 

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one. 

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer. 

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever. 

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you. 

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice. 

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path. 

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you. 

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path. 

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said. 

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone. 

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?” 

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months. 

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds. 

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow. 

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket. 

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him. 

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you. 

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face. 

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound. 

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow. 

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar. 

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened. 

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to. 

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door. 

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips. 

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter. 

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human. 

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you. 

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand. 

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess. 

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack. 

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!” 

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks. 

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist. 

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.” 

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth. 

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too. 

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon. 

And, without thinking, you ran. 

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees. 

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother. 

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather. 

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you. 

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location. 

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den. 

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths. 

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away. 

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood. 

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form. 

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him. 

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition. 

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection. 

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.” 

[whaleofatjme1920]

In the Tent, Under His Arms (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: literally just smut, knotted dick, breeding kink kinda?, possessive, I feel like EJ is his own warning, dubcon, rough, degrading(?), slight praise, if you are a minor DNI]

[AN: this thing is 8K words so have fun. Ngl, I had a lot of inspiration from the Wolf Man from Darkwood, so like,,,,,, that's gonna show up here as influence srry. ily <3]

To say you are nervous as you traverse the woods was an understatement. You could hardly breathe as you quietly stepped through the darkness that curtained the forest around you. Small little mushrooms and pieces of paper dotted your way as you continued to shine your flashlight at the deer path before you. Branches seemed to spring out from tree trunks in the blink of an eye scratched at your clothes as you pushed yourself forward. Every little sound that didn’t emit from you set you on edge.

How the hell did you even get here? You woke up on the floor of a rundown house. Cold tile had been your mattress as you slowly found your bearings. A quick glance around the darkened room showed a barren room, its walls littered with papers worried about a tall man in the woods. The only warnings were to watch out for him, fear him and not get caught by him lest you be taken. But you were still confused, scared and unsure.

Instead, you found yourself doing the only thing you could really think of. Securing your safety. This went on for a week without a hitch (save for the odd faces that peered into the windows every now and then) until one fateful morning where you were greeted by the only sentient living being that wished to talk to you since… Well… Since before you ended up here.

You had taken up refuge in a closet for the night and after stretching, headed to the kitchen to make something when you were rudely greeted to a… man?

Leaning against your counter drinking some coffee he’s already brewed.

You were about to rush back to your closet and pick up your blade when the man lowly chuckled.

A deep silence fell between the two of you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. From the silence came low, rumbling, almost animalistic breathing.

It was then that you finally got a clear view of who was leaning in your kitchen. You grounded yourself in the doorway, not budging as the man slowly sipped from the coffee mug. You took notice of what he was wearing as he did so - a big, dark blue hoodie, and on top of that, a big, brown jacket. He had worn blue jeans. Steel toe boots.

The most unsettling parts of it all?

He had ashy, grey skin. From his profile, you could see shark-like teeth, grinning at you like a wolf.

“It’s really rude to stare, sweetheart,” the grey skinned man interrupted before taking another languid sip. “Have some coffee. I went outta my way to get it for you,” he finished before you could even begin to register what he was saying.

You awkwardly looked off to the side as words failed to build in your mouth. However, your mind continued to race with thoughts.

The grey skinned man verbally rolled his eyes with a huff before placing his mug down. Then, he quickly turned himself around and opened up one of the cabinets, fished for a mug, settled on a slightly chipped white one, inspected it, then placed it on the counter beside his. His clawed hand reached for the pot of coffee and grasped it before pouring the pleasantly warm and aromatic liquid into the slight chipped mug.

“Here,” he hummed as he held out the mug to the still frozen in place you. “Before it gets cold.”

You felt immediate disgust but hit it from your face as you cautiously stepped forward.

Sighing deeply, he closed the space between the two of you by taking confident steps forward.

On instinct, you held your hands out and took the mug.

He smiled in approval before leaning back on the counter to drink from his mug. “Sorry about the lack of sugar and creamer,” he said in passing as he watched you take a slow, shy sip. “You’ve seen the state of things out there, haven’t you? Can’t find shit even if I tried.”

Upon deeming the drink not poisonous and not harmful to your wellbeing, you felt more at ease and took more confident sips. “Who are you?” You asked, effectively breaking the semi-comfortable silence.

“A medic in some circles, a trader in others,” he began, flashing his rows of pearly white sharp teeth. “Call me Jack.” His gaze then lowered, eyes still obscured by his hood. “And what about you, sweetheart? How did you find yourself in this wicked place?”

You shifted uncomfortably before leaning in the doorway and taking another sip from the mug. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “I woke up here,” you gestured to the cold, checkered tile the two of you were currently standing on, “and got to work,” you finished. Your eyes remained trained on the floor. You remembered the first few days you were here - how awkward and strange they were. The feelings of confusion and anger. Stumbling around in the dark.

Jack nodded thoughtfully at your words before he finished his mug in one big gulp. He then smirked at you, the corners of his lip tilting upwards before he began stalking towards you.

Instinctively, you backed up, ready to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled under his breath. He smelled of wet soil and pine. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he stopped just an arm’s distance in front of you. He looked down at you, his eyes still observed by the darkness as you struggled to see what he looked like. His clawed hand suddenly reached out, and you flinched. He grinned, and took his lifted hand to hold your chin before slowly tilting your gaze upwards to meet his in full. “Let me get a good look at those pretty eyes,” he murmured.

And that when you saw his, or rather, the lack of. Just empty caverns. Dark, soulless, but they looked at you with such hunger.

Jack watched your pretty eyes flutter, mostly in nervousness before he leaned down. His sockets bore into you. His other hand left his coat pocket to your face, clawed came closer and closer to your eyes making you scrunch your nose. “Find me in the burnt clearing. I’ll be waiting for you.” His index finger came up to the bridge of your nose and slid down it. He chuckled at your confused expression before he tapped your nose.

When you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

You spent a few days wondering if you should go or if it was a trap. There was really no one to ask and the faces that peered into your window didn’t seem to give an answer one way or another. Your gut, however, kept telling you it was a bad idea.

That was what you were sticking with: it’s a bad idea, you shouldn’t go.

So, why were you stumbling through the woods near sundown looking for him? It was stupid, you thought, that you could be walking into your death. You quickly slashed through the brambles until you made your way to a small clearing. A light shined in the short distance when it wasn’t obscured by rapidly growing branches. A quick glance down at your map showed that this was the eyeless man’s camp.

Your fingers tightened around your blade as you left the heavy foliage to inspect the camp. There was a sizable tent followed by various crates strewn about. In the center was a fire pit and across from it was a worn down green couch. How did that even get in here?

You carefully came closer to the roaring fire with timid steps while trying to calm down your breathing. A quick glance around and there was nothing but silence to accompany you as the sun sunk further and further down the horizon. You let your guard drop for just a moment before prickling back to attention. A presence behind you made you swivel, lurch and raise your blade faster than what you were capable of.

“Took you long enough. You do know that it’s rude to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Jack states with a small frown before bursting into a fit of laughter at the sound of your still drumming heart. “What has you so nervous?” He questions, eyeing you like you are nothing but a piece of meat.

“This is your camp?” You say, more out of observation than waiting for affirmation.

“It is,” Jack hums. “Good to see you made it. I’ve seen some proxies barely make it here by the skin of their teeth,” he continues as he sits down by the fire.

“What?” You ask as you quirk up an eyebrow.

Jack picks up his back to rest between his knees and rummage through it before beckoning you over to sit next to him.

You cautiously sit next to him on another crate. You avert your attention from him back to the fire.

“Proxies are servants of this tall guy,” Jack explains after ensuring you took your seat. “They run these woods essentially, but they never come to my neck in fear of the things that exist past what is safe,” he grins slightly, still rummaging in the bag. “Out here, it’s just me and the things who lurk.”

“The things that lurk?” You whisper in a questioning tone.

Jack nods again and pulls out a little journal. He begins to thumb through it as he continues to explain to you. “Things known as the Rake, the notdeer, the proxies that succumb to their sickness early, y’know, the things that kill.” He finally finds what he’s looking for.

You turn your attention to the journal and see he’s amassed a collection of polaroid photographs of the things that lurk.

“See? These are some proxies,” he hands the book to you and points at the pictures. “And here is one of the things that lurk.” His clawed finger shows you what used to be a proxy, their body torn to shreds, organs hanging everywhere, and in the center, what you can describe as a monster hungrily devouring their flesh. “I have a lot of good shit out here, and most of them never make it past this guy.”

You shiver slightly and Jack furrows his brows for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for a moment before briefly taking the book from you. “Anyways, very few people make it out of the woods unless you’re a proxy or me. We used to make it out a lot easier but there was this one guy, ugly fucker,” he hisses. “That left the woods after burning down the trees to the main road - one of our crossing points. The trees grew back so fast after the tall guy’s wrath and now we’re all stuck here as a result. That ugly fucker? He disa-fucking-peared.” Jack growls deeply as he says it, clearly not happy with the memory.

“I’m… Sorry,” you apologize awkwardly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” He hums. “Anyways, flip a few pages and you’ll see the ugly fucker’s hovel before he left.” He pointed to the picture of a house similar to the one you were staying in.

Small world?

You studied the man who stood in the picture. He wasn’t that ugly in your opinion.

Jack then shows you other photos, places, effigies, proxies and one of a brilliant mansion. Apparently, you need to stay away from that place at all costs. There’s also pictures of him and other people, some of them you recognize from your time on earth? Is that right? Are you still on earth?

Jack explains a bit more to you. Mostly about this place. It’s like a pocket. Somehow, you were taken and brought here for a reason. Jack suspects it’s because the tall man, also known as the Slender Man, wants to make you a proxy.

“You’ll lose your humanity that way,” he tsks. “And that’s why I called you here. Not for pictures and conversation,” the warmth that was in his tone over reminiscing over things and learning about others is gone.

You notice it almost instantly. You watch as his posture changes and so too do his facial features. You know he means business now.

“I know you’re looking for a way out,” he begins. “I can help you with that.” Jack notices your eyes light up for the first time in well… It’s the first time he’d seen you look so hopeful.

“What’s the catch?” You ask as you slowly lean away from him.

Before Jack could say anything, a shriek was heard off in the distance. Jack’s face twinkled with excitement for a second before he nodded his head over to his tent.

It caught you off guard and sent your heart racing before yet another shriek emitted from the dark forest around the two of you.

“It’s dark,” Jack says as his gaze goes back over to his tent again. “Stay here for the night. Those things out there don’t really fuck with me,” he muses. When you don't answer, he stands up. “Unless you wanna try your luck out there, sweetheart. By all means…” He trails off as he slowly begins walking over to his tent.

You swallow your pride and stand up much too fast and catch pace with him.

Jack lets out an amused chuckle as he opens the flaps to the tend and allows you entrance.

You were immediately shrouded in the scent of petrichor and wild flowers. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell near as rough as you had originally expected. You felt a tad awkward standing in his tent as he zipped it up.

“You can sit down,” he says as he ensures the flaps were shut properly.

You nod more to yourself than anyone else and take a few more steps inside. It was tall enough that you could stand without brushing your head on the roof. On the floor interspersed with grass were carpets. It looked like a nest was in the near middle? Tons of blankets and two twin sized mattresses laid side by side were on the ground.

You glance around and see a small little desk, some writing supplies, just normal home stuff. Why was Jack living out here? There were tons of vacant houses.

Instead, you brush the thought off and settle on sitting timidly at the end of one of the blanket covered mattresses.

“Good choice,” Jack says as he procures from his pocket a box of matches. Then, he reaches over on the little desk for a kerosene lamp. After lighting it, the dimness of the tent became something actually visible. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the other mattress.

“What time is it?” You ask as you struggle to get comfortable on the mattress.

“Surprisingly? Nearing midnight,” he answers. Jack stretches slightly before plopping down entirely. “Get some sleep, yeah? Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out to do what I ask,” Jack subtly demands. He props his elbows up on his knees and watches from the corner of his gaze as you shift awkwardly.

You felt strange laying down on the mattress, but did so anyway. It doesn’t seem Jack cared very much that your shoes were still on. You move your body slightly to find comfort on the mattress while Jack continues to eye you from the corner of his vision.

He takes note of your form, how delicious you look. How he can take you right now.

But he saw your eyelids grow heavy. Within moments, you were on the verge of passing out.

Jack relents softly. He knows she wants your full attention while he ruts into you making you cry out to gods that don’t want to hear you. He sees you begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Luckily for him, he does have some business to attend to, and those creatures didn’t ever get too close to his camp.

They wouldn’t touch you, not with his scent bathed all over you.

One of the last things you heard before Jack left to attend to other matters was a compliment. You barely heard it, and it would have shocked you right awake if your body wasn’t on the verge of shutting down.

“You look so pretty right now, Sweetheart. Beautiful, even.”

It wasn’t until 3am that Jack finally returned. You were fast asleep when he finally resented the tent, but he could smell you all the way from where his important matters laid. His nose guided him back to you. And funnily enough, it brought him back to you about a week ago as well.

Jack hadn’t smelled a fertile woman in a very long time. Well, since this whole mess came upon the Slender Man’s woods, really. He spied on you the first few days you were here. You weren’t as ready for him then, must’ve just been leading up to it. When he popped into your kitchen, it was because you were getting so close to your peak. The smell was overwhelming, sweet, and tender. Intoxicating. Like fresh peaches and the tangiest of strawberry pie. Lucky for him? You came to him at your peak.

Jack ressecure the flaps of the tend before his vision that saw all too well in the darkness his beauty that rests on the mattress he knew you’d choose. Your face and other gestures were gently lit up by the almost extinguished kerosene lamp’s flame. It drove him wild to see you breathe so peacefully.

Your chest rose every so slightly and he could have sworn he caught the outline of your nipples if it wasn’t for that stupiud bra you had on instead.

Jack licked his lips as he quietly drew himself closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling on top, quietly and slowly, so as to not wake you. One of his knees gently pried apart your legs, and then he took in your scent. You smelled of something not from the woods. You smelled of fresh vanilla and dark roast coffee. Of strawberry pound cake. Of good things.

Jack leans down and takes in your scent near the base of your neck, inhales deeply, then buries his nose in your hair. You smell divine, possibly even better than… Well, it’s best not to say. His hand picks itself up off the mattress to gently and gingerly brush near your hairline. Sily. Pretty. He then places it on your stomach and lightly presses, trailing his claws along your abdomen to your side. You are so soft. So delicate.

The moment his clawed fingertips touch your side and begin trailing down, you wake up.

Your eyes fly open and you almost let out a scream at seeing how this strange man is looming over you. Your mouth opens, but his hand quickly leaves your side to smother you. You breathe heavily against his palm, your eyes wide and with fear. You struggle against him.

“Shhh, he hushes as his hand presses a little firmer on your mouth. “Calm down.” His voice was low as his knee dug further into the mattress, just below the place he wanted most.

You continue to struggle against him, fighting against his planted hand while his other hand presses down on your hips.

“You promise not to scream?” Jack deadpans in a low tone with an edge that cuts you to your core. He sees tears welling in your eyes, and he knows you’re telling the truth. Slowly, he peels his hand back, watching as you keep true to your word.

You take in deep breaths to help self regulate. “What the fuck?” You seethe. Your arms, which have been pawing wildly at his chest, relax only slightly when his clawed hands catch your wrist in a vice grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, only loosening his grip when he’s sure you won’t fight him any further. His head dips so his empty caverns can peer right through yours in the dim light.

One look and you know what he wants. Horor and something else - something wanton - pass across your face, making Jack laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he hums, his clawed index finger trailing your cheek.

Before you can say anything else, Jack’s hand leaves your hips and grabs your face. With a wicked grin, he licks his teeth, then leans down and licks your face.

You contort to digits as he does so. He smells of iron.

“Why are you doing this?” You growl as his tongue leaves your cheek to your chin, slowly making his way to your neck. “I can leave if that’s-”

“No,” Jack growls. “You won’t leave,” he states before gently nipping at the soft flesh on your neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs before taking another languid lick at your neck.”I’m going to make you mine,” With that, he entirely retracted his form from yours to look down at you.

Of course, you fight him. Your thighs grip around his upper leg that still rests between your knees and you almost maange to flip the two of you over. But he was much bigger and much stronger than you could manage. With a deep laugh, he grips your wrists tighter above your head and squeezes to let you know who is in charge. With his free hand, he reaches into his back pocket and gets the zip ties.

How the fuck did he get zip ties?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hiss as he dangles them in front of your eyes.

“I just can’t trust you right now,” Jack tsks in the tone of a pouting child. The black zip ties feel awful against your wrists (they also feel good) - and he’d secured them so tightly. He playfully watches you attempt to break free from them, and when it proves futile, he laughs. Jack then allows his hands to take free roam of your body while you begin to protest him less and less. “I know you don’t have any spare clothes,” he hums thoughtfully before his fingers waltz down to the hem of your shirt. “Luckily, I have some left over. You won’t be needing any of this,” he cackles as his sharp claws make waste of the fabric.

You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker under his grasp but still curse at him more than what you deem possible. Jack seemed to eat up your insults. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit as he eyes your bra hungrily. “A sick fucking pervert.”

“You stayed the night, Sweetheart,” Jack grins wickedly. “I’m only taking claim of what’s now mine,” he says before delicately tracing the cups of your bra. He likes the design. Dark blue with light colored polka dots. An interesting choice. Without wasting any more time, his claws cut through the fabric too - no use in unclasping while your hands are bound. “How beautiful,” he giggles. “How lovely. I could hardly tell when you were using those bags you call clothes,” he teases, making your knees clamp around his knee once more, making Jack break again and laugh.

You bite your tongue and try to avert your gaze from him, not wanting him to see that you’re flushed due to the intimacy and that your body and you yourself are growing keen to the situation you have found yourself in. “This is…”

“C’mon,” Jack breathes out as his fingers trail up your smooth flesh to your breasts. “You must’ve known something was up. A man doesn’t just ask a woman to stay the night. He’s got one thing on his mind if she isn’t family or a friend: he wants to fuck her.”

The harshness and pure lust that dripped from his tongue made your face heat up in response. Your gaze darts and bounces around before you finally settle on his hands that are now fondling your chest.

Jack’s hands travel to your pants. He takes in your scent again. You are intoxicating, so intoxicating.

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” you manage to hiss out, legs still clamped around his knee.

Jack’s expression falls. “You’re not in charge, I am.” And with that, he rips through your pants, leaving you naked before him.

You shiver slightly in response to the cool air, and of course, Jack has to see that and make note of it as well.

“Awh,” he coos as his nose gets closer and closer to your heat. “Are you cold? Do you want me to warm you up?” He murmurs in a sickening lust filled tone.

“You bastard-” you’re barely able to breathe out before you’re cut off by Jack dragging the flat of his long, black tongue from the bottom to the top, taking great joy in the arousal that was already present.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he teases before dragging his tongue again. “Already soaking,” he compliments. His thumb, careful of the sharpened claw, travels to your clit and begins to slowly massage it. He feels your legs shift. Jack hums as he does to, hsi tongue only playing with your lips. He was going to make you suffer before he stuffs you completely.

His teeth nip you every now and then, just to remind you who was really in charge as his tongue and lips press kisses to your lower lips. He doesn’t dare dip into your heat despite wanting to taste you in full.

You write in his grasp, trying to hold back any and all sounds of pleasure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to you.

It’s a shame really, he could make you see stars if only you’d let him.

He must have gone near half an hour with his head between your legs, still fully dressed. He was a man of great patience, and he’d been edging you for much longer and harder than he should have. He could see frustration dotting your face when he finally came back up to look at you.

You look a little more flushed than he remembers. It’s probably all the heat rushing to your face. He notices your hands are quite restless too, that and being tied up couldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world.

“You look upset, why?” He asks before sucking on your clit. When you struggle to say anything, his teeth graze you ever so slightly. “Use your words, please,” he hums much like an authority figure would.

“Tongue fuck me,” you mumble in embarrassment, eyes darting anywhere but at Jack who is still nestled securely between your legs. You watch as Jack’s ears perk up.

“Say that again,” he prompts, his fingers taking over his tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you say softly “Tongue fuck me and please untie me.”

A sly grin crosses onto Jack’s face alongside yet another chuckle. He momentarily leaves your legs and crawls back up to be face to face with you. His index finger reaches up and his claw slashes through the zip ties.

You freely move your wrists, getting used to your newfound freedom.

“It’s only because you asked nicely,” Jack coos as his sockets bore into your eyes. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pleasantly surprised that you don’t fight him like before. He then crawls back down your body to rest in between your legs, his clawed fingers parting your lower lips slightly before he dives his tongue in. He takes great joy in how you write beneath him as your thighs press harder against the side of his head.

He buries his tongue inside of you and curls it in places no human could ever reach. He has you seeing stars.

You buck your hips quite a few times and Jack’s hand reluctantly leaves your thighs to push your hips back down. As he tongue fucks you closer and closer to release, you become a little harder to control. He enjoys it though.

Jack hums absentmindedly as he does so, relishing in your taste. You are soaking wet and so, so close. All he has to do is push you off the edge.

He slithers his tongue out of you before rubbing your clit with his thumb, allowing you to take your mind off your pussy and to the assault your clit before your mind goes white hot in pleasure. Jack’s tongue darts so fast into your pussy that you almost yelp in response as he thrusts it back in and out, still humming like it was no big deal.

Your back arches and that’s all Jack needs to know to see you’re just about to cum. A few more rough flicks of his tongue and you’re creaming onto his face. Your hands grip the nest’s bedsheets and various blankets as he continues to carefully tongue fuck you through your orgasm. He grins as he laps up your sweetness, teasing you under his breath about the effect he has on you.

But he’s not done with you, not by a long shot.

You look up hazily while panting deeply as Jack’s tongue slowly leaves your pussy. The flat of his tongue slowly swipes up from bottom to top which makes you giggle, and he smiles against your skin. From there, he begins working on undoing his belt.

“Here,” you murmur softly, his ears once again perking up to catch your words.

“Hm? He hums in response as he cocks his head to the side, watching as you slowly sit up and stretch before your hands gently press onto his chest. You push off his dark brown coat and then trail down to his belt.

Your hands are soft and gentle as you work on freeing him, and within moments, you are tossing his belt to the side and unzipping him. You can see the tent in Jack’s pants, and you can already feel how delicious he’s going to feel inside of you.

Jack nods for you to lay back down when you shake your head ‘no.’ Interesting. Instead, your hands unzip him and you reach for his cock. Your eyes pop as you touch it - he was hot, much hotter than any man you’d previously been with.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting,” Jack teases.

You roll your eyes playfully before finally fishing him from his pants, guiding him out with anticipation. You look up at him the entire time you do so, lust clouding your vision and burning through your soul as you do so, almost unaware of the monster you hold in your hands. When you finally look down, you feel heat rise to your face once more.

Jack smirks in response and tangles his fingers near your scalp, brushing you ever so slightly. He guides your lips down to meet the giant. He was big. No denying it. Had to be near nine inches, thich, veiny, with a girthy know he couldn’t wait to stuff inside of you.

You didn’t fight against him. Instead, you eagerly awaited him for your mouth.

Your lips are soft as they press the lightest of kisses to his tip. And just like that, you’re dragging the length of your tongue up and down his cock and listening to him growl in anticipation. When you know you’ve got him where you want him, you take him in your mouth.

Jack’s claws keep steady in your hair as you bob your head. Your lips couldn’t reach his know, and to be completely fair, he wasn’t expecting you to be able to take all of him orally, but he loves what you can do. Your tongue swirls around his tip and shaft every time you come back up, and when Jack was acting up? You graze your teeth against him.

Before he knows it, you are looking up at him with the sweetest gaze, giving him your permission for him to use you. Jack passes you a look of affection before his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek, moaning out deeply as your tongue swirls on his tip, trying to coax his cum out.

Without any particular warning, he pushes your head down and brings you back up before working into face fucking you.

Your face goes dark as he uses you, making breathing damn near impossible. He begins muttering in some language you don’t know - they sound like praises - but he’s coming closer and closer to his edge.

In a mix of English and whatever language he was mumbling in, you can feel his praises get filthier and filthier. Though, Jack doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. Not this time.

“Back down, I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs deeply while looking at you with lust and… something you can’t quite name. It wasn’t animalistic, that’s for sure.

Jack expects for you to lay back and spread your legs for him but instead, he watches as you maneuver on all fours. Your face is burying into the blankets and your ass is just shy of his waist level despite you pushing up towards him.

You glance back at him and roll your eyes playfully before swaying your hips, attempting to entice him further.

Jack sees the slickness of your cunt and without any hesitation, takes your waist into his clawed hands and begins rubbing his cock with your slick. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs as he continues to rub his cock with your juices. “I’m going to destroy you.” And then he slips into that language you just can’t understand. “I’m going to knot you and you won’t be able to look at another man without begging for me to fill you up,” he says as his fingers lightly part your lips that were so tightly pressed together as he lines up with you.

Before he does so, he begins to shrug off his hoodie.

“Stop teasing me,” you say in a teasing tone, making Jack pause from taking off the rest of his clothes.

Jack verbally rolls his eyes before taking his hand out from under his hoodie before gripping your waist again. Without any warning, Jack shoves himself into your roughly, hilting himself to his knot before resting there and taking off the hoodie.

Your eyes roll up slightly as he thrust inside of you. The thickness he had wasn’t anything you were used to, and he stretched you open with absolutely no lead up and it made you see stars again.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he says in passing as he throws his hoodie up and over his head. “Squeeze around me while you wait for me to fuck you,” he chuckles with a devilish grin. He feels your body’s eagerness for him to fuck you, and like such a good girl, you squeeze his cock making him breathe out with a smile. He feels you pulsing, he feels you growing hundred with the need the longer he stays dormant inside of you.

He sighs in ecstasy as he begins to slowly move himself out of you. When it was just the tip, he roughly slid back in, still refusing to knot. His ears twitch at the sound of you gasping for air as he really begins to fuck you. “And here you were calling me a pervert,” he muses as he begins to thrust into you with deep, long strokes, adoring the sounds that pour from your mouth. “But you like fucking me huh? You like it, you goddamn slut. You like being fucked by something that is no longer human,” he continues in that same dead language, nails digging into your soft flesh. “You’re gonna milk my cock and then you’re gonna do it again in the morning.”

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth slightly open, hair bouncing slightly with every thrust. Your face is so heated in response. This is something you know you shouldn’t be doing, but fuck was it good at keeping you around and interested.

As one of his clawed hands undug itself from your flesh to slide down your hip and caress your abdomen, his claws trace your skin and press into your clit once more. He thumbs you and leans over you as he does so, his other hand propping next to your head as he engulfs you with his size. He’s pounding into you now, still refusing to know. His tongue lazily swipes at your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a damn near inhuman speed and strength, making you mumble incoherencies.

Your moans are music to his ears.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you feel like you can’t anymore, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m the only man you’ll ever fucking think about,” he roughly sneers into your ears as he continues to pound his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop, and even then? I might not stop.” He breathes deeply into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell as you pathetically move in tandem with him, his fingers digging into your clit and swirling.

He’s trying to get you to cum again.

You are trembling beneath him as his hips shatter you. You can feel his knot greet your lips, but still refuse to enter as Jack growls deeply into your ear. Your legs clamp together as his hand roughly fingers your pearl.

He’s so intoxicating, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Cum on my cock,” he hisses harshly, still fucking you to orgasm.

And just like that, he got his wish.

You squeeze shut your beautiful eyes before tightening your thighs together. An immediate waterfall gushes from between your legs, filling the air with something sweet and slightly bitter.

Jack laughs as he pulls out from your pussy, watching as the liquids continue to gush out. “What a cutie,” he teases as he lovingly licks your cheek. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I knot you,” he grins, nodding for you to lay back on the side of the twin mattresses that was not turned into an ocean.

On hellied legs, you slowly wobble and hum as his finger traces your slit before falling back to the side of the mattresses that isn’t soaked. Your eyes meet his gaze and you slowly spread your legs as he looms over you. You catalog everything about him. In your eyes, he looks so animalistic, and so human all at the same time.

Without his jacket or his hoodie, you’re able to see the scars that decorate his body. He’s so dark, and the cuts and jagged lines that dash across his form are so light in contrast. He’s still lacking eyes - so how is it that he looks at you with such love?

That stupid smirk is looking at you again and you’re tearing your gaze off it to see the head of his cock weeping with precum.

Jack whistles down at you, his hand resting on your knee. “You knew this was coming, Sweetheart,” he hums as he leans forward, hands placing themselves on both sides of you. His grin grew as he saw your face heat up once more.

Jack feels your legs shift followed by a slight weight on his lower waist, He makes a noise of approval as your ankles lock before he glances down to where your bodies are soon going to be connected again. “Let me know if I hurt you at any point,” he whispers softly in your ear as his slightly pointed tip prods at your entrance.

You find yourself almost taken aback by his sudden kindness - he was so domineering but so soft? Your trail of thought is almost entirely derailed as he pushes his cock in and past your puffy, swollen lips as you listen to him hiss at the new angle.

It’s intimate - neither of you can deny that.

Jack watches your expressions from the corner of his gaze as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you, working you to that breakneck pace once more. He watches as your eyebrows furrow as he picks up the pace, fucking you in your entirety. He feels your legs tighten around his waist and watches as your eyebrows furrow once more and knit together in pleasure.

You begin to pant as he does so, walls pulsing deliciously around him as his hips meet yours in thick, meaty thrusts. You feel his cock slide deeper and deeper with every thrust, pushing you to new limits.

Your moans are, once again, music to his ears as he fucks you senseless. Your hands wantonly claw at his back and brush against his sensitive flesh. Swears and curses escape your lips every now and then and that makes him blush.

“You are taking me so, so well,” he harshly compliments through pants as he lowers himself onto his forearms, his hips continuously snapping forward. “It’s almost as if your cunt was made for me. I wonder if you can take my knot as well?” He mumbles as his knot kisses your bruised lips once again. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna make you take it.”

“Fuck!” Jack swore under his breath as your walls vice gripped him. “You’re gonna take my knot and you’re gonna like it,” he mumbles into your neck as he kisses and nips at it. He hisses again when you rake your nails across and down his back. His ears fall back in pleasure and close to his scalp as you moan louder. The sound of your pussy gobbling him up has him weak at the knees.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you?” He questions as he nips at your neck, threatening to bite in the longer you hesitate in answering.

You’re admittedly pretty tongue tied at the moment. “I-!” You’re cut off but his hips slapping forward making you choke and gasp for air. “I am-,” you breathe out through your moans.

“Perfect,” Jack chuckles as he slowly inches his way out. He watches your face carefully as he pulls out, his gaze trained on yours as his forearms push up so he can see you better.

Confusion etches itself on your face. “What?”

“I just wanna see your face,” he answers as his tip rubs against your entrance. He licks your cheek playfully once more before slowly, and deliciously dragging his cock back in, his knot just barely meeting your lips. “This might hurt,” he murmurs gently as he picks his hips back up once more before thrusting back in, much more forcefully, his thick, large knot finally breaching your pussy.

Your eyes widen as his girthy knot pushes inside of you, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips. Your hand leaves his back to grip onto his bicep. Luckily for you, Jack doesn’t mind. You wince as he wiggles in the rest of his knot into your pussy as it swallows him whole, the entirety of his knot being buried inside of you, making it hard for you to breathe. You feel so full and stuffed!

Jack is a little surprised by how strong your grip is! He’s almost completely smitten with it when he finally looks down to see tears welling in your eyes. He can tell it’s a mixture of both paini, from being stressed immensely, and pleasure in a way only pain could bring. It’s ecstasy. Jack leans down gently and begins to kiss your tears away, careful to not pull where the two of you are connected all the while restraining himself to what he doesn’t believe is bearable.

“You feel so divine,” he murmurs livingly before licking away another tear. “Just relax, let me do the work,” he continues. He feels your lips on his and he smiles, taking that as the green light to rock into you. Unfortunately, he would not be able to completely destroy you like he did prior to knotting you simply because of the knot.

Now, Jack takes the time to be intimate. He lovingly relishes in the feeling of kissing you as he slowly and tantalizingly grinds his hips against you and lightly thrusts after every roll. It was a little difficult due to the connection, but it felt sweet. His hand went back between your legs to work your pearl as he continued to sweetly roll and thrust into you, thoroughly enjoying how your hips are shyly coming up to meet him.

“Come on,” he whispers softly through his kiss as he begins to thrust a little rougher. “Just a little more, cum on my cock again,” he urges as he breaks the kiss, licking your cheek. He’s swiping and thumbing your clit in ways that have you writhing beneath him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him to press deeper inside of you.

Not one to deny a lady from what she wants, Jack backs up as far as his hips will let him and pounds back into you. He repeats the motion, making sure to roll every time he does so.

Your hands grasp at his back once more as he fucks you with reckless abandon, his name being the only thing to spill from your lips as he does so. You can’t believe he’s overloading you again, and your heart picks up in response. You kiss him once more, feeling his chapped, rough lips against your soft ones before he leaves and nips down the side of your face and back to your neck. He lightly bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for you to know he’s got a claim on you.

You look up at him as he mumbles in that same dead language against your skin. He’s so lost in you that it’s almost adorable. Your hand gently asks for his attention, and he gives it to you. You give him a look of nothing but lust and possibly love, and Jack’s lips are on yours again, thickly, warmly, with something deeper and much more passionate than anything you would have expected he was capable of. When he breaks away, panting, against your face, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“I’m going to fill you,” Jack sneers through his panting, hips still thickly pounding into you. “I’m going to fill you for as long as I’m inside of you,” he mutters as his thrusts frow sloppy. Jack covers you entirely with his body as he roughly pants into your ear, so, so close to spilling.

Your walls begin to flutter around him, urging him to spill as he growls into you. You feel like you’re creaming rings around his dick, urging, no, begging him to bottom out inside of you. Your nails are leaving dark, jagged marks into the flesh of his back as he does so.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Jack finds himself going over the edge, his hips back as far as his knot will allow him before he buries himself deep, the tip pressing against your cervix as he releases himself inside of you. Hot, thick, sticky ropes of cum begin to flood into your needy cunt as lightly rocks himself inside of you, gritting his teeth as you tremble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He continually growls out like a prayer as your fluttering walls coax more cum from him.

Your eyes roll upwards as the heat floods your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes shut and burying your face into his chest. You’re squeezing tightly around him, vice gripping him as he continues to relish in the feeling of your body holding him so tightly. You can barely think straight as his cock weeps more cum, threatening, and succeeding in filling you to your brim.

“Gods, you’re milking me,” he murmurs as he finally stops pumping you full of cum. “This… This is gonna take a while,” he says darkly in your ear.

“What?”

Jack nods down to where the two of you are still connected. “Gonna be a while.” He sighs, secures your legs to his waist, and then flips you over so you are resting on top of his chest. “Get comfortable.”

“How long..?”

“A while,” Jack awkwardly coughs. “It’s just uh, a knot thing, I guess?” He attempts to explain as you shift your hips deliciously, making him huff and his cock spurt more ropes of cum. He looks away in slight embarrassment. “You can sleep, if you want? Like I said, this is gonna be a while,” he finishes as his hand fishes around for a blanket as his other hand travels down your lower waist to finally cup your ass. He squeezes gently once he finally throws the blanket over the two of you.

“Or,” you say as you plant your hands firmly on his chest, gradually bringing yourself back up. “We can go again.”

Jack laughs. “And you called me a pervert.”

You lightly slap him and grind your hips slowly against him. “Shut up.”

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[muselin]

See You Later - Part 1

Who: Beomgyu

Group: TXT

What: Beomgyu/f!reader, collegeAU, slow burn, eventual smut, college student!Gyu, model!Gyu

Word count: 2,238

A/N: this is for @bluekais ❤ Hope you enjoy! Sorry that it's taken so long! There will be a Part 2 coming but I got myself elbows-deep into Kinktober so might take a while as well 🎃

____________________________________

"Tch."

The dissatisfied noise leaving your lips had become habit by now. Just his presence annoyed you, but the fact that he had the nerve to show up late to class almost every time, carrying that stupid skateboard, made your blood boil a little bit. He never studied, never did the assignments, always showed up late and he was still somehow passing this class. This class that you had worked so hard to get into and had to keep working so hard to stay in. It didn't come naturally to you but it did to him and it made you green with envy.

"Ah, Beomgyu-ssi, how kind of you to join us," your professor quipped sarcastically as Beomgyu beamed a smile that was frustratingly charming and headed for the only empty space in the auditorium which, to your displeasure, happened to be next to you.

You didn't acknowledge each other as you continued scribbling furiously into your notebook while Beomgyu sat with his chin leaned on his hand. You noticed that he hadn't taken out anything to write with.

"Now I will hand out your assignments for the next lecture. Remember we have study week, so you will have one week to complete these. Please remain in your seats as you are now."

Your professor proceeded to hand out stacks of papers and you couldn't help noticing that he was handing only one stack for every two students. He was making his way down your row and dropped off an assignment right between you and Beomgyu.

"I can hold it for us," Beomgyu smiled pleasantly as he looked over to you, seemingly unaffected by your sour expression. As the two of you read the instructions for the music production assignment, Beomgyu would stop and mutter to himself every once in a while: "Hmm, I already have a bass guitar for this," "This would be very easy to add a snare to," "I just need vocals and someone to match the drum line to this".

"Alright, everyone ready?" The auditorium hummed with mumbled "yes"es.

"Good," your professor continued, "you will be doing the assignment in pairs, in the order that I've handed the assignments out to you".

You groaned inwardly, noticing yours and Beomgyu's names at the bottom right corner of the cover page.

"Class dismissed!"

You were unsure what to do. You'd have to spend quite a lot of time with Beomgyu to finish this but you didn't have his number and you didn't even know which dorm he was in. Before you could open your mouth to ask Beomgyu when you should meet up, he was getting up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"See you later, Y/N," his voice laced with his regional dialect reached you as an afterthought.

"Tch. Fuck you too, Choi," you muttered.

___________________

It had been four days since you last saw Beomgyu and you were getting nervous. You had started the assignment early and done as much as you could do. You hated to admit it but you really did need him for this. You had worked out a base melody but it was too bare and uninteresting and you knew from hearing him talk to himself that he knew a lot of elements which could add flare and points to the assignment. You hunched over your laptop, browsing the music library. Begrudgingly, at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, you decided to email him through the university central email list.

### 22:01 ###  Hi Beomgyu, it's Y/N, your partner for the music production assignment. I've thrown some things together but we need to meet to do the rest. I realised I didn't have your number or your dorm address, let me know when we can meet up. ###

You waited for a while after pressing send, just in case he was on his emails right now. At midnight you gave up and went to sleep.

### 03:44 ### Hi! Sorry about that! Can you bring what you have over to mine at about noon tomorrow? Here's the postcode ###

You woke up to the reply from Beomgyu and nearly panicked that you would be late. He didn't live close by at all, the post code seemed to be for a swanky area of newly built apartments downtown, miles away from your suburban campus.

You showered and dressed as quickly as possible. You weren't dressing up for anyone. Jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt was all Beomgyu was getting from you. You grabbed your laptop and equipment and headed out the door.

________________

At 11:55, you knocked on Beomgyu's door. He lived on the 13th floor and on the elevator up to his apartment you hoped to whoever would listen that this wouldn't turn out to be as unlucky as the out-of-order sign on the second elevator.

The front door clicked and opened to reveal a somewhat sleepy Beomgyu, dressed in a tshirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, Y/N, you're early," he said, then looked at his watch. You found this ironic, considering he never showed up to class on time.

"Well, not by much. Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, opening the front door widely for you to walk in past him. "I'll make coffee," he yawned.

As you walked past him you couldn't help but note in your head that he smelled really good. You weren't sure if it was his cologne or laundry but it was the kind that settled pleasantly in your chest and made you want to breathe in deeper. You stopped that train of thought harshly as soon as you felt your mind drift that way. You were perfectly happy with feeling generally mildly annoyed with Beomgyu. It was your comfort zone, even if having to work with him was pushing it.

"So how come you don't live on camp-- Wow..."

Your jaw dropped as you walked into the apartment. It was nothing like the cramped dorm rooms you and your friends shared on campus. It was bright, spacious and well-decorated, with huge windows and a view that rivaled the best hotels in the business district.

"How the fuck are you affording this," the words tumbled out of you with little grace before you could stop them.

"Well, since you ask, I work a lot of side jobs," Beomgyu said nonchalantly as he poured water into the kettle in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Uhm...," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "at the moment I model."

"You? You model?"

"Yeah, why," he tilted his head at you, looking at you quizzically.

Those big brown eyes, the soft curves of his lips, his chiseled jawline... And his hair looked really soft too. Suddenly from thinking nothing of him you were imagining him as a model. You wondered what he modeled for. Could it be fashion brands? Lifestyle? Prints? Maybe even swimsuits? He always wore those baggy jeans and t-shirts, but maybe...

"Y/N?"

"Oh," you snapped back to him, realising you hadn't answered him. "Yeah I just... didn't know, that's all."

"Uhm, cool. Why don't you drop your stuff off in the room down the hall, the one on the left?"

You nodded and picked up your laptop bag and equipment, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you padded down the hall. You nudged open the door to the room he'd pointed you to, jaw dropping again for the second time today as you walked in.

The room was a small makeshift studio, with mics, a sound control board and several guitars. Several notepads were strewn about along with a few used coffee mugs and muffin wrappers. It seemed to be the most lived-in space of Beomgyu's house so far and you were suddenly starting to understand why he never seemed to pay much attention to the classes. You dropped your bags off in the corner and sat down at his computer, looking at the various pieces of equipment connected to it.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Beomgyu's pleasant voice reverberate in the room. You hadn't heard him come in after you. Covering up your startled reaction, you mumbled your preference and he returned shortly with two steaming mugs, setting them down on his desk.

"Um, so... For this assignment I've tried layering the melodies but it's very bare. I thought we could use it as a starting point and build on it," you said, trying to sound more businesslike.

"That's good, thanks. I actually don't have a lot of time so a head start would be good. I have an hour now but then I need to head out."

Your brow furrowed. An hour? It had taken you three days to put together what you had so far.

"Let's see what you've got," Beomgyu reached for the USB stick in your hands and plugged it into his computer. He downloaded the files and ran them.

An unobtrusive melody filled the small studio. He listened politely, head tilted to one side until it faded out.

"Um... Yeah, I don't play guitar so I wasn't sure what would sound good with that," you started, hands playing with the edges of your shirt nervously. You hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of Beomgyu.

"Yeah, no offence, but it does need a lot more than that," he said. "Let's see what I can do with that."

You sat in your chair and watched him plug one of his guitars into the amp behind you. He tuned it according to the scales in your melody and started to play along.

"Nana naaa," he hummed along quietly. "I don't know about that bar, what do you think," he asked you.

"It's not bad but I think it can go for longer," you replied. Beomgyu nodded, stopping the recording and starting again.

You watched him get lost in his own world as the notes coming from his guitar breathed life into your melody. You watched his fingers strum and pluck, watched his lips open and close in concentration, occasionally the lower one being worried by his teeth. You watched his long hair fall into his face. You simply watched Beomgyu in his zone, not noticing when he stopped playing.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes focused and met his deep brown ones, your lips tensing as you tried to seem attentive.

"Yeah? Yeah, that was good, let's add that in," you spoke quickly.

"Cool," Beomgyu then stood up and reached behind you to switch off the amp. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing in again when his chest and neck nearly brushed across your face. His warm hand dropped to your shoulder, giving you a casual pat.

"Why don't you sit at the computer and keep replaying the recoding while I write down the chords," he suggested.

"Okay, sure," you stood up in the cramped space and there was barely room for you two to switch places. Beomgyu's hands instinctively came up to your waist to steady you as he brushed past you. Your breath hitched but you said nothing as you sat down at his desk and started the recording.

Your combined melody filled the small room and you found yourself nodding along. You hated to admit it but you liked it much more with Beomgyu's additions. You played it several times while he wrote down the chords.

"Right, awesome," he drawled in his dialect after he was finished. "I have to get dressed and head out now, but if you want we can meet up again later today. I won't be done until quite late but I sleep late anyway."

"How late are we talking," you asked suspiciously.

"I would be done about 11, we could meet back here," Beomgyu offered.

You hesitated for a second. It was a lot later than what you considered acceptable but at the same time you didn't trust Beomgyu. You weren't sure you would get any more time out of him than this.

"Okay, deal. Message me when you're done and I'll head over."

"Cool, here's my number," Beomgyu grabbed your phone to type his own number in and called himself. "You okay to let yourself out?"

He left the studio and went into the room across, which you guessed was probably his bedroom. You copied the new files onto your USB before you packed up your things and left the studio as well. On the way you saw that Beomgyu's bedroom door was ajar. You saw him standing with his back to the door as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head. Your lips tensed into a line as you tried to not to make any noise and not even to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"See you later, Y/N."

You stood frozen in place as your eyes traced the lines of his back muscles to his pretty shoulders, not missing his toned arms flexing as he reached up to push the t-shirt over his head. Your gaze trailed back down his body to his hips where his bottoms were slung low, exposing the two cute dimples at his lower back. He didn't look like he was wearing anything underneath.

Beomgyu dropped his shirt to the floor and you suddenly darted down the corridor, panicked that he would turn around and see you. His bottoms dropped down just as he heard his front door open and shut.

[honeyedhoseok]

Blue | 01

genre | jeon jungkook x reader; lifeguard!JK but this isn't really a lifeguard fic; soulmate!au if you squint; smut; angst

word count | 9.9K

summary | that summer with jungkook was blue--a shade that carries with it a tinge of melancholia that you should have accepted from the beginning.

or,

to say that you fell in love with a color was an overstatement, but to say that you fell in love with him was an understatement.

a/n | i've been writing this to avoid my responsibilities. hope you enjoy! <3

series masterlist

It rained the first day Jungkook worked at the pool.

You’d heard the news of a few new lifeguards starting that day, but you’d been too busy serving ice cream at the snack bar to really get anything other than a quick glance at the lifeguard stand before you were locking eyes with the next greedy customer in line.

It was the beginning of summer, with the air sitting hot, dry and heavy on the normal patrons of the pool: older moms who sunbathed and gossiped with their friends while their kids splashed in the shallow end and gave the lifeguards something to do. Teenagers too cool to actually get in the pool littered the sides, only dipping their feet in while using expensive Ray Ban frames like a headband to hold their hair out of their eyes while they talked with their friends.

The forecast had mentioned some scattered storms, but normally that just meant getting everyone to come inside for a few minutes until it passed. The storm that day, however, had plans of sticking around a little bit longer.

You were passing a cup of strawberry shortcake soft serve out the window when the first clap of thunder sounded, followed by a lightning storm that sent the lifeguards in a tizzy. Multiple whistles blew at the sudden appearance of a storm, and the atmosphere was a rush of splashing and commotion as people made their way out of the water and to their belongings scattered in chairs on the sides.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” your coworker, Jihyo says, sidling up beside you to look at the clouds looming over what was supposed to be a normal day at the pool. “Wonder if we’ll get to go home early?”

“I hope not,” you reply. “I need these hours, damn it. The Blooming Festival is in a few weeks, and I plan on taking off at least three days to soak it all in.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve only mentioned it, maybe, every day I’ve worked with you so far?”

Serving ice cream at the pool was just a summer job. You were working there to make some money so you could do things with your friends, put gas in your car, and occasionally splurge on a new outfit or pair of shoes. It was supposed to be as normal as every other summer you’d worked there in between college semesters—until he showed up.

In fifteen minutes, the pool was shut down completely; all of the patrons were packed up and back in their cars after an announcement from your manager that the storm was forecasted to not let up for at least another hour and a half.

“Oh, we’re definitely going home,” Jihyo says, shutting the serving window and twisting the lock. “When’s the last time Seokjin shut down the pool indefinitely?”

You purse your lips, leaning back against the counter behind you and looking out at the pouring rain behind Jihyo. The wind was starting to pick up now, leaves and debris filling the once-clean surface of the cerulean water of the pool.

You start to make a bitter remark but the sound of heavy, slapping footsteps cuts you off, followed by a loud pounding at the back door. Jihyo looks toward the source of the noise with furrowed eyebrows, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“More twelve-year-olds coming to demand that we restock Moose Tracks?”

“Hey, Moose Tracks is a classic!” you call at her back as she goes to unlock the door. “It’s not their fault you keep picking unpopular flavors to order each week—like Mint Chocolate Chip!”

The back door opens, and the shop is suddenly flooded with voices following Jihyo back into the small space.

“MCC is the goddamn classic, Y/N,” Jihyo says, stomping back into the conversation like she never left off. “Don’t ever bash it again, or I’ll stop ordering Sea Salt Caramel for your uncultured ass!”

You want to laugh, but you’re too distracted by the hoard of boys—lifeguards—trailing behind her. Yoongi and the two new guys crowd your space suddenly, and you find yourself backing up into one of the corners and trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt for just arguing with Jihyo over ice cream flavors, of all things.

The boys are soaking wet, puddles collecting at their feet on the tiled inside of the kitchen, but they seem unphased by it as they huddle in. Thankfully, one of them comes to your rescue.

“I’m with her,” he says, giving you a nod. His smile fills up his whole face as he talks, making his eyes turn into little crescent half-moons. “Sea Salt Caramel is where it’s at.”

The other lifeguard doesn’t say anything, gaze focused over your heads outside where the wind is knocking sunbathing chairs over. You realize then how tall he is—possibly half a foot or more than you—and the thought that if you were close enough, your nose wouldn’t even brush the dip of his clavicle, has your cheeks burning.

He and the half-moon lifeguard have similar builds: long, lean body statures, almond-shaped eyes, the same dark hair that falls in wet strands in their eyes. You wonder if they’re related. Maybe the taller one is the older brother, you think.

“The great ice cream debate,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly, sounding bored. “How about we have some and solve this problem once and for all?”

As he reaches for one of the serving spoons, Jihyo’s arm flies out, smacking it out of his hands. It falls with a clatter onto the counter, and he looks at her with an animated expression of surprise and disgust.

“Uh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “It’s like Seokjin’s only rule for us.”

“Seokjin can kiss my—“

As if on cue, the back door swings open and Yoongi shuts his mouth as Seokjin comes in, looking incredibly dry due to the floor-length plastic covering hanging from his umbrella.

Leave it to Seokjin to own something as extra as that, you think.

“Get comfy,” he says as he steps out of the plastic, shaking water off the top that splashes onto your scuffed, white Keds.

You gaze down, realizing only then that none of the lifeguards are wearing shoes. Yoongi’s pinky toe is edging dangerously close to a melted puddle of chocolate ice cream you forgot to clean up, but you don’t have the guts to tell him in front of your manager, so you shoo the thought away and focus on the grim look on Seokjin’s face. He’s chewing gum and looks slightly annoyed at the thought of all five of you huddled inside instead of doing work.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he says, “but I need you guys to stay here until the storm calms down. It should pass in an hour or two.”

Jihyo frowns. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll send you home.”

She grins triumphantly.

“And I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to clean up that mess out there,” Seokjin adds, giving her a sickly-sweet smile. He blows a bubble with his pink chewing gum for emphasis, the pop resonating in the small space.

Yoongi frowns and Jihyo’s mouth drops open. The new lifeguards seem as surprised as the other two, and they eye Seokjin curiously, probably trying to figure out what kind of manager he is. Even after all this time working for him, you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

“Any more questions?” he asks, tone leaning somewhat on annoyance. But then again, that’s how Seokjin always sounded.

Jihyo shakes her head and Yoongi gives him a deepened frown in answer.

“Good. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Yoongi and mimicking his annoyed expression. “See to it that Hoseok and Jungkook get acquainted with the rules.” He steps inside his clear cocoon of an umbrella, reaching down to zip it up above his head. “And I’ll let you know when it’s safe to go outside and clean up.”

Jungkook, you think. You know immediately that it’s his name because it just fits him. You feel yourself rolling the unspoken syllables around the inside of your mouth, wondering when you’ll get the first chance to say them aloud.

Yoongi salutes half-assedly, and Jihyo elbows him in the side after Seokjin turns around and makes his exit. After the back door is shut, the five of you visibly deflate, and Yoongi sucks his teeth.

“That guy,” he mutters. “One of these days—”

“I wish you’d learn your lesson and stop messing with him,” Jihyo says, interrupting whatever nasty comment was about to spill from his mouth. “It’s probably because of you that Seokjin wants us to stay, instead of going home in this god-awful weather.”

“Why doesn’t he like Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering to the chestnut-haired, simmering boy to his left.

“His most recent offense?” Jihyo ponders, crossing her arms over her chest as she thinks. “Not showing up for his shift—threedays in a row.”

“I was sick,” Yoongi says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you want me to do? Not stay in bed and get better?”

“Oh, your bed must suddenly have relocated to the pool hall at five in the afternoon, huh?” she says, tilting her head to the side in mocking. “Snapchat locations don’t lie, Yoongi. If you’re going to play hooky, do it better.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Damn, man.”

Yoongi, never one to back down from an argument, flicks his brown fringe out of his eyes. “Why don’t you teach me then, Little Miss Stomachache?”

“I had cramps!” Jihyo says indignantly.

“You’ll learn that being around these two is like being around an old married couple,” you murmur to Jungkook and Hoseok as Yoongi and Jihyo’s voices rise louder and louder in contest. “They get along like cats and dogs.”

Jungkook grins at your comment, and you think your heart stops a little in your chest before starting an accelerated rhythm that has you feeling light. His lips pull back prettily over his teeth, his cheeks balling a little from the force of it.

“I’m thinking cats and dogs might actually be more civil than this, to be honest,” Hoseok says, gesturing to an annoyed Yoongi threatening to rub his clammy, wet feet on Jihyo’s bare, shorts-clad legs.

In the time that you had worked there, there were very few civil moments between Jihyo and Yoongi. You think that maybe they were civil when Yoongi first started, and you remember faintly a comment made by Jihyo that Yoongi was “cute” and maybe that they exchanged numbers at some point—but then rumors went around that Yoongi said Jihyo was too loud and controlling, and Jihyo said he was a selfish bastard, and you think they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

“You’re probably right,” you say finally, giggling at Hoseok’s comment. You stop abruptly when you see Jungkook’s eyes fall to your mouth at the sight of it splitting open with a grin. They linger there for a moment before he speaks for the first time since entering you and Jihyo’s space.

“What did you say your name was, again?” he asks.

His voice is soft and low, almost a lilted hum, and it catches you off guard in comparison to his very boyish, young features. You expected it to be higher, to sound almost preteen-like, but it’s nothing of the sort—it immediately has you questioning how old he is in comparison to Hoseok.

“Y/N,” you say. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I guess.”

Jungkook smiles again, and this time it feels like one especially conjured up for you.

“Y/N,” he repeats, the sound of his tongue rolling over the syllables sends a little zap to your insides. “You um, have a little something there, on your shirt.”

He takes one hand out of his blue swim trunks and points to your breastbone, where a dark splotch of chocolate ice cream sits over your sternum.

“Aw, fuck!” you murmur, facing burning as you spin around on your heel, grabbing the nearest hand towel and dabbing at your shirt. “These kids—”

“It wouldn’t stain like that if it was Mint Chocolate Chip,” Jihyo sneers suddenly, cutting whatever Yoongi was about to say to her off. She grins triumphantly at the stain, returning to your argument from earlier. “Would it?”

You flip her the bird, still dabbing at the fabric—but you can’t help but revel a little in the cute smile Jungkook gives you as he watches you fuss over yourself, digging around the kitchen space for anything to save you from the ice cream on your shirt.

After that fated day, your mind lingered on Jungkook incessantly. At the pool, you glanced at him more often than not from the serving window of the ice cream stand, committing him to memory. You found yourself reminiscing over the upended triangular shape of his upper body, the lithe muscle covering his shoulder blades, the image of a whistle poised between his rosy lips, his teeth pressed tightly against the metal, his body wet and glistening as he rose out of the pool—

“You’re literally drooling, Y/N,” Jihyo says, breaking you out of your reverie by snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, go talk to him?”

“I will,” you say indignantly. “I told you—I’m waiting.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, nodding. “Still waiting.”

“Jesus,” Jihyo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but you know he’s only here for the summer, right?”

You freeze in the middle of cleaning the counter. “He’s what?”

“You heard me—you have less than three months, Y/N,” Jihyo says firmly. “I know rushing isn’t your style but, uh, you might not have a choice this time.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

You hate how your voice sounds pitiful and whiny, but your heart is literally sinking at this news—three months? Less than three months? Where was he going? What would you do with your time when he wasn’t there to look out the window at? It dawns on you suddenly that you won’t be there in three months, either. School started back at the end of August—your sophomore year.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were interested in him?” Jihyo crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching you fawn over him for all this time, just waiting and hoping you’d confide in me, but no.”

“What was I supposed to say?” you retort glumly. “That I like the lifeguard that seems the least interested in my existence? Yeah, no, I’ll save myself from that sadness train going nowhere, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Jihyo says with confidence, turning to the window. “Hey, Jungkook!”

You freeze. “What? What are you doing?”

Jungkook looks your way, raising an eyebrow above his black Ray Bans. Jihyo leans out of the serving window, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.

She turns to you. “Look how easy this is going to be.”

You swallow to combat the sudden tightness in your throat, watching with bated breath as Jungkook climbs down the lifeguard ladder and walks to you two, his feet slapping a little on the wet cement surrounding the pool.

“What’s up?” he says, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and unknowingly releasing the full intensity of his doe-like eyes.

You inhale a small gasp that Jihyo obviously hears, because she lightly presses her Ked-clad foot on top of yours below the counter.

“Me, you, Y/N, Hoseok,” Jihyo says with a confidence you could never muster. “Dinner and a movie on the boardwalk this weekend?”

Jungkook’s eyes pass from hers to yours for a split second, and your pulse picks up speed in your veins. If he seems surprised from the random invitation, however, he doesn’t let it show on the easy-going expression that he wears.

“Sure,” he says. “Can you remind me when it gets a little closer? I’ll have to make sure my parents don’t have anything planned.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder, casually producing her phone from what feels like thin air. You blink down at her hand, realizing this was her plan all along.

“Put your number in,” she says. “I’ll make us a group chat. We should probably have one anyways, since we work together. You know?”

Jungkook nods and puts his number in before handing it back to her. A commotion happens in the water behind him, and he glances over his shoulder with concern. “I should probably head back,” he says. He gives you both a small smile before he flips his sunglasses down over his eyes again, hitting a slight jog back to the lifeguard stand.

When he’s out of earshot, Jihyo texts rapidly on her phone. When she’s done yours vibrates three times in your pocket: the start of the group chat, you’re sure.

“And that, my friend,” she says, giving you a grin that could rival the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas, “is how you get the ball rolling!”

Unfortunately, Jihyo’s plans—which she has annoyingly coined as Operation: Get Y/N Laid—don’t stop there.

On Thursday, just two days before the plans, she convinces Hoseok to come with her to something before the meet up that’s going to coincidentally make them late so that you and Jungkook have time to be alone.

When she tells you this, it’s as she’s making a double scoop chocolate cone, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge that comes over you to put your hands around her neck.

“Ack! Y/N! Let go!” she says between breaths with wide eyes. “I’m going to drop the ice—”

“You’re so dumb!” you yell, squeezing a little harder. “That’s such an obvious ploy to get us alone, he’s going to realize it!”

Jihyo finally squirms out of your grip by turning her head and licking your arm. The warmth of her tongue makes you recoil, and she gasps with relief as air floods back into her lungs, looking at the now-lopsided cone in her left hand.

“Now how am I supposed to give this to that little brat outside?” she says, frowning. “His mom will come and eat me alive if I hand this slop out of the window.”

“You probably deserve it,” you say sourly. You lean your hip into one of the counters, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take your plans back, Jihyo.”

“I can’t,” she says calmly. “Hoseok is already in on it.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s in on Operation: Get Y/N Laid,” she says again, with that same ridiculous manner of calm, like you didn’t just make her life flash before her eyes thirty seconds ago. “Stop freaking out—he wants to give you some time alone just like I do. So, he’s not going to say anything to Jungkook. The plan will go on like normal, you will just have to do a little acting when we don’t show up on time. Got it?”

In all honesty, it’s not the worse plan she has ever come up with. But you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so, so you keep your current frown plastered on your mouth for a little longer to let her know your displeasure with the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, don’t you go all pouty on me,” Jihyo says, wagging a finger at you as she trashes the cone you messed up and grabs another. She scoops more ice cream out of the container below her, giving you a look that reminds you of a mother watching her children open Christmas presents after telling them they weren’t getting anything for months. “You’ll thank me later—right after you tell me if Jungkook has anything worthy of talking about.”

“I’m sure he does,” you respond indignantly, falling right into her trap. “He’s intelligent.”

Jihyo hums a nod before brandishing the new cone, two scoops of chocolate perfectly centered and balanced on top of each other. “Before long this will be you two—are you a top or a bottom, though? I forgot.”

You groan in anguish as Jihyo lets out a cackle, opening the window to your stand and handing it out the impatient little boy that waits outside. You’re grateful for the breeze, although its simmering warmth does nothing for the same feeling that has settled high on your cheeks, dusting pigment there reminiscent of a similar shade of red Jungkook sometimes sports on his swim trunks.

The day of the boardwalk date, you find yourself sprawled out on the floor in front of your closet in your underwear and bra, contemplating why you ever purchased every single item of clothing in your closet.

These kinds of freak outs are normally reserved for the pressing dates in life—first day of college, nights out with the girls, birthdays—but today, you find yourself freaking out over the instance of having to wear the perfect outfit in order to feel comfortable around Jungkook.

Comfortable, and most importantly, pretty.

You shuffle through your two final picks, laying them across your bed in order to get the full effect of what they might look like on. They were both incredibly simple—your college wardrobe either consisted of exercise shorts and t-shirts and hoodies or going out clothes that were much too revealing for a fun night on the boardwalk. But you fret over them some more, so much that you almost have a nervous breakdown and text Jihyo to call the whole thing off.

But the slight hum of your phone vibrating your bed stops you before you can do so. It’s from Jungkook, and you heart beats a little off kilter at the sight of his name popping up on your phone screen.

Jungkook 5:15PM : We still meeting at 6?

It’s directed to your group chat with him, Jihyo and Hoseok. You take a deep breath. Jihyo had told you that she wasn’t going to respond to any messages until the last minute, to really sell her “emergency” that she had to bring Hoseok along on. You were driving separately, as was Jungkook, but the two of them had decided to conveniently carpool a day prior.

Y/N 5:18PM : I’ll be there! Park at Pier 14, it’s the closest one to the boardwalk

Jungkook 5:20PM : Yes ma’am 😊

You smile down at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip softly as you read the message over a few times before clicking the screen lock button. You prop your hands on your hips, deciding that it’s now or never. The nights got chilly in the summer when the sun wasn’t beating down as heavy, and you hated being cold. So, you choose the outfit on the right—a simple, oversized pullover and bike shorts, paired with some scuffed white sneakers, and rush into the bathroom to get ready so you’re not late.

You get to the pier at exactly 6:01 and search around for a parking space.

A part of you feels like this is a bad plan. Especially when you look down at your phone after cutting the engine and realize that Jihyo has texted you something that makes your stomach drop.

Jihyo 5:59PM : Haha…bad news

Jihyo 5:59PM : DON’T KILL ME

Y/N 6:02PM : Please, no!!! What is it!!

Jihyo 6:03PM : The check engine light on my car came on as I was leaving Hoseok’s. Don’t panic. We are waiting for AAA to come get us and take us back to his house so he can drive. I repeat: DON’T. PANIC.

“Okay, okay” you say to yourself, taking a few calming, deep breaths in. “At least she has a plan? This can still work out. I’m not panicking. Yet.”

Y/N 6:03PM : When are they estimated to be there?

Her messaging dots appear and disappear for a few minutes and your anxiety skyrockets.

Y/N 6:06PM : JIHYO

Jihyo 6:07PM : between 6:45-7PM…

Y/N 6:08PM : THE MOVIE STARTS AT 7:05 YOU ABSOLUTE

There’s a knock at your window that has you almost jumping out of your skin. When you look up, you’re met by the wide grin and big, childlike eyes of Jungkook. He peers at you through the tinted glass, looking a little sheepish at having scared you on accident.

All your anxiety about Jihyo having an actual emergency disappears as you unclick your seat belt and scramble out of the car to join him.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he says, stepping back and giving you space to swing your door open. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” you say. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. Well—sort of.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. “Did something happen?”

“Jihyo is having car trouble, so her and Hoseok are going to be late.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shifting your weight from leg to leg. The outing was supposed to be all of you as a group—and originally, them being a little late wouldn’t have been such a problem. But you were thinking thirty minutes max, not an hour and a half!

You’re relieved when Jungkook shrugs. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’m still cool with walking around until the movie starts if you are ?”

You nod with enthusiasm. “Right—we’re already here, might as well go do some stuff?”

Jungkook smiles again, and you finally take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of chinos—a simpler outfit that looks way too good on his tall, lean frame. You hadn’t seen him in much other than his swim trunks because the only time you two really saw each other outside of this singular moment, was at work.

Of course, you weren’t complaining about that aspect. You could probably pencil out in detail the muscles of Jungkook’s upper chest and stomach, the way water rolled off them when he got out of the pool, the way they flexed when he pulled his whistle to his mouth. That is, if your drawing skills weren’t absolute shit—so bad at that a kindergartener could probably put you to shame with snapped Crayola’s and disproportionate stick figures.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, taking with it all the heat and warmth of the day and leaving you with a slight breeze that could give you goosebumps if you let it, and a sky the deepened color of cornflowers.

It’s twilight, you realize, as you trail beside Jungkook from the parking lot cement onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A backlit, blue-hued time of day that you absolutely adored during the summertime because you still had just enough light accomplish the activities you wanted to.

Not that you needed to worry about light at a time like this—the bright boardwalk stadium lights are almost blinding, and because it’s the weekend, the two of you find yourself periodically weaving in and out of the crowd that seems to get busier and pushier the further you walk.

Jungkook takes the lead, his taller frame holding more of a reason for people to move out of the way than yours. You watch the back of his head the whole time, noticing the way his raven hair reflects the light—shiny and clean and looking incredibly soft.

“How about a snow cone?” he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like there might be somewhere for us to sit up there.”

He points ahead and you call out an agreement to him, hoping to be heard over the ruckus.

You realize that the crowd isn’t going to let up anytime soon—people have no qualms about walking in between you two, and you find yourself speeding up in order to not be further separated from him.

At some point Jungkook glances behind him again and realizes your struggle. He slows his pace, and you happen to look down and realize he is holding out the long sleeve of his hoodie for you to hold on to.

“Don’t get lost,” he says with a grin. “This snow cone will be worth it, I promise!”

You return his smile, holding onto his arm with a light touch as he continues to lead through the crowd. You curse Jihyo silently in your head—despite her fake emergency turning into a real emergency, she was right about one thing: time alone with Jungkook was something you couldn’t pass up.

When you finally make it to the snow cone cart, you let go of Jungkook’s arm quickly. He looks at you with suspicion as you snatch away, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to your racing pulse by offering you his touch.

“What flavor do you want?” he asks, looking at the menu stand on the right. “My treat.”

You both immediately point to Tiger’s Blood, and Jungkook seems pleased with you.

“Good choice,” he says. “If you picked Pina Colada, I was going to lose it.”

You giggle. “You don’t like coconut?”

“No,” he says, frowning. “I snuck some of my mom’s Malibu one time without realizing and I almost barfed.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You realize that you still don’t how old Jungkook is, and while he orders your snow cones, you look at him with scrutiny. There was something young about his eyes and face, the roundness of the tip of his nose and cheeks making you believe he was younger than you. But his body—good grief, his body—and the sharpness of his jawline and said otherwise.

When you’re both seated at a picnic table, you decide to ask him.

“Why?” he says. “How old do you think?”

You take a timid bite of your snow cone, relishing in the satisfying crunch of ice between your teeth. “Hmm, I know you’re college-age. Just wondering how old.”

“That story I told about sneaking alcohol was from a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

“You’re only nineteen, right?” he says, but it doesn’t seem like he cares much that you’re younger.

You nod. “But my birthday is in September.”

“So is mine,” he replies with a grin. “We’ll have to try to celebrate together, somehow.”

You try not to let on how happy his suggestion makes you—that months from now, you two will be friends that throw parties together, or possibly more—and you settle into your seat, munching happily on the cold treat that is slowly turning from ice to mush in the paper cone in your hands.

“So why the pool?” you say a few moments later. “Did you work at another one before ours?”

Jungkook blinks. “I have my CPR certification from another part time job I had at a gym,” he said. “I don’t know why they made us get it, honestly.”

You laugh. “Maybe in case one of the meatheads lifted too much at once?”

“Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But the gym couldn’t work around my school schedule anymore. So, when I came home I saw the pool was looking for a new part-time lifeguard and I applied.”

“You only come home during the summer?”

Jungkook nods, but a look of annoyance flashes across his face before he answers. “There’s not much for me here, honestly. I like school and being on my own, away from my parents.”

“I get that.”

It was something you could both agree on. You didn’t realize freedom could taste so sweet until you moved into your dorm on campus. You could stay up when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, go out when you wanted. As long as you kept your grades up and didn’t lose your scholarship for your parent’s sake, you were literally allowed to do whatever your heart desired.

“It’s too far away to fly back and forth, anyways,” Jungkook adds, suddenly. He tilts his paper cone back, dumping all of the remaining liquid into his mouth before crumpling it in his left fist.

“How far?”

“California.”

“Oh. Why there?”

Somehow, you were taken aback to hear that he’d chosen a school so far from his home. You wonder suddenly if the sullen look he’d given your earlier had more to it than you realized.

Jungkook ignores your question—like you expected—and stands up. You scramble to finish the remains of your cone and he holds his hand out for your trash. You give it to him, feeling the slight brush of your fingers against his palm that reminds you of earlier when he’d offered his arm. He doesn’t this time, but you find yourself wishing he would again. Or that you two were close enough for you to reach out and grab it without his permission.

“That’s a story for later,” he says, giving you a look meant to soften the blow of his hard statement. “I don’t want to talk about it right now—it’ll ruin the mood.”

You nod slightly, bringing your bottom lip back between your teeth to gnaw on. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Is there anything you want to do?” he asks, looking around. “We have about thirty minutes before we should head back to the car for the drive-in movie.”

The boardwalk was in full swing as the night progressed, the sky now a deep shade of indigo behind him. You stand with him, leaning onto your tip toes in an effort to recognize any signs further down the wooden path.

“The arcade, maybe?” you suggest.

Jungkook fake clutches at his chest, staggering with clumsy steps to one side. “A woman after my own heart,” he says theatrically. “I might faint.”

You laugh loudly and roll your eyes to cover up your own heartbeat thumping wildly in your ears. You use the rush to match his energy: “I’m only saying it because I want you to win me a plushie.”

Jungkook smiles, his eyes full of light and mischief at getting to show off his skills. “That, madam, is a deal. Let’s go.”

Jihyo still hasn’t texted you by the time you and Jungkook exit the arcade.

You want to send a scolding text to her, but in reality, you don’t really care if they show up anymore. Jungkook seems to have forgotten they were coming—he doesn’t look at his phone once while you two flit from game to game in the arcade.

You’d watched from the side as he entered a water pistol race with a few other patrons of the boardwalk. He sat down on a stool right in the middle of everyone, leaning over the gun and closing one eye for better accuracy. His tongue poked out between his lips, his form rigid and unyielding until the announcer blew a whistle to start the race. You held back a laugh at his seriousness, pressing a hand to your mouth in case he looked over at you.

He did, but only once the flashing lights above his booth went off, signaling him as the winner. He’d hopped off the stool and raced over to you, placing a hand above your elbow before pulling you over to claim your reward from the prize table.

You chose a blue and white dolphin that was just big enough to be slightly comical. Jungkook carried it over his shoulder as you two walked back toward his car, giddy from the excitement of playing carnival games and teasing each other all the while.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t have even beaten me at basketball if yours didn’t come to my side and knock my shots off course constantly!” Jungkook insists. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Why can’t you just admit my two-pointer is better than yours?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m almost six foot and you’re what—five-one? You simply can’t be a better shot that I am because of your genetics. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth drops open. “I’m literally five-three!”

“Minus two.”

“Oh, whatever!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, throwing his head back from the force of it. You pout alongside him, but you can’t help the telling smile that creeps onto your face. You like this side of Jungkook—it was so different from the stoic and quiet lifeguard you knew him as before.

“The drive-in is just a block that way, right?” he asks once you two come up on the parking lot. He shifts the dolphin higher on his shoulder, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at you. “I can drive us in my car, if you want.”

Your eyes widen a little at his suggestion. You didn’t even think about the fact that if Jihyo and Hoseok weren’t here, it would just be you and him watching the movie together.

“Oh—um, I mean,” you stumble over your answer. “If that’s okay with you?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” he says with another laugh. He gestures to the stuffed animal perched on his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got a nice seat cushion, here.”

You smile and nod before following him to his car. It’s a little navy SUV—something you didn’t expect him drive at all. He seemed like a “car guy” for some reason, one that would have driven something old and sturdy and loud.

“This is—cute,” you say, for lack of better wording.

Jungkook sucks his teeth. “Man, why does everyone say that?” He groans. “This thing is great on gas, okay? And look at all this trunk space! I mean, if you lived all the way in California—"

“Hey, hey,” you say, holding your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, that was terrible wording. Did I say cute? I meant cutely efficient. You didn’t let me finish.”

Jungkook laughs again, nodding. “That’s what I thought you meant, yeah.”

He throws your dolphin in the backseat and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. Your cheeks are hot as you move past him to settle into the seat, giving him a timid smile as he shuts the door behind you. You watch him walk around the front of the vehicle, lit up by a neighboring car’s headlights for just a fraction of a second.

He’s handsome to you while doing the most mundane of things, and your heart hurts at the thought. You couldn’t have a crush on him. He was your coworker for one, and for two, he didn’t live there. He went to school across the country, and he was only home for three incredibly short months. There would be nothing to your relationship, so you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of having a crush on someone so, well—unavailable. You pinch yourself hard on the thigh as a seal of reminder: this could not, would not, happen.

The slam of the car door brings you back to reality. Jungkook presses the start button on his dashboard before clicking his seatbelt across his upper body.

“You good?” he says, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. When you nod, he backs the car out of the space, his hand on the back of your headrest for good measure.

You take a few uneven breaths in and out at the action, forcing yourself to remain looking out of the front windshield and to not turn your head towards him even a fraction. You know doing so would put your faces at an incredible proximity, and you what the hell did you just pinch yourself over if you weren’t going to stick with it!

“Any word from Jihyo and Hoseok?” he asks. “It would be cool if we could still get dinner with them afterwards, at least.”

You pull your phone out of your crossbody. The screen lights up to no new unread messages, so you sent Jihyo a quick text in your private chat.

Y/N 6:58PM : Update?

It sends but doesn’t get read immediately in normal Jihyo fashion.

“Hm, maybe the tow truck is there, and she can’t talk,” you say. “I hope everything’s all right.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “But this is fun—with just us two.” He pauses, glancing over at you. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say quickly, giving him a smile. “I’m having a great time.”

He seems sated by this information, but you’re not sure why. “I’m glad.”

Jungkook drives you to toward the movie parking lot—a grassy field with neat rows of cars guided by a parking attendant in a bright, orange vest—and Jungkook reverses in the directed spot in the middle row of cars. You can see the screen perfectly, but only out of the back window from the way he parked. That does little to deter your excitement, though.

“The screen is huge!” you say in awe, twisting in your seat.

You look on as it plays movie trailer previews for remaining months of the summer, and the thought flits across your mind just how many you might get to see with Jungkook before your time was up.

“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” Jungkook asks. “We gotta make this one extra special, then.”

You look over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, unlocking the car doors, “I’m pulling out the big guns.”

He hops out and heads to the trunk of the car. You scramble after him, shutting the passenger door behind you and joining him where he stands with the trunk popped open. You watch as he lowers the second row of seats flat after moving the dolphin plushie and a conveniently-packed duvet. You look at him with raised eyebrows as he unfolds the blanket across the flattened seats, making you two a perfect spot to lay in the back of the car while watching the movie.

Jungkook sees the suspicion on your face and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I just thought we might want to be comfortable if we’re going to be watching a movie for two hours, you know?”

You ignore him and climb in through the open trunk, settling down with the dolphin as a cushion for your back. “Where’s the popcorn?” you ask, laughing. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook holds up a finger. “One moment, m’lady.”

He takes off from the car and you sit up on your elbows, watching him jog up to a stand at the front of the drive-in parking lot that was selling snacks and drinks for the occasion. You pinch yourself again for good measure when he comes back a few moments later, reminding yourself of your pact. Just because you two were alone, in the back of Jungkook’s car, laying down, about to watch a movie together, alone, didn’t mean anything!

The scent of butter and salt fills your nostrils as Jungkook returns, handing you the popcorn and drinks as he climbs into the trunk and settles beside you. He sits cross-legged and digs into the pockets of his chinos to reveal candy in both hands.

“Sour straws or gummi bears?” he asks.

“Gummi bears, but I want a sour straw, too.”

Jungkook laughs. “Agreed.”

As you two dig in, the beginning of the movie flickers onto the big display screen. People pass by Jungkook’s car on their way to the food stands at the front, and you and Jungkook settle against the giant dolphin propped on the back of the front seats.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you for all of this,” you say quietly in between sips of fizzy Coke. “You keep paying for everything before I can offer.”

“Would you rather us go Dutch?” he asks in the dark.

He’s incredibly close to you—his forearm brushes against yours when he moves because the dolphin only spans so far when you lay it down. It wasn’t the biggest prize, because you didn’t want to carry around a massive plushie, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest they had, either.

On screen, the heroine is introduced going about her daily life. She gets ready, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on her makeup for a normal day at school. When she pulls up to school, a sleek, black motorcycle is parked in her usual spot. A little ways from it, she notices the culprit—an extremely handsome guy holding a bike helmet within the crook of his arm as a swarm of cheerleaders surround him like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I mean, I hate the thought of depending on other people.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you say this, and when you glance at him, there’s an emotion plastered on his usually friendly face that you can’t pinpoint.

“Consider it our first date,” he says finally, with a shrug. “Then you don’t owe me anything and you’re not depending on me, either.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Oh—um—well—”

Jungkook tilts his head down as he bites into a sour straw, pulling the candy away from his clenched teeth so it makes a small pop as it separates. He nudges you with his shoulder that is already leaning against your own.

“Did you see that?” he asks with a chuckle. “The stunt doubles are so noticeable in this movie—they have totally different builds than the main characters.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a breathy laugh. A date. The word echoes within the chambers of your mind, repeating over and over like he just yelled it into a cave at the top of his lungs. It reverberates around your skull until you feel your skin buzzing from the meaning.

So much for your pact when he was saying things like that so casually. God, you couldn’t wait to get Jihyo alone to tell her everything.

The movie continues, and a glance down at your phone lets you know that it’s only thirty minutes in when Jihyo finally texts you back.

Jihyo 7:36PM : Hoseok and I aren’t going to make the movie. We’ll just explore the boardwalk until you two lovebirds are done and then we can get food!

You relay the information to Jungkook—leaving out the lovebirds bit. He nods in understanding.

“I figured they wouldn’t—but I’m glad we’ll get to see them,” he answers. “Hoseok texted me a while ago and said Jihyo’s engine light was on because she slams on her brakes too much. He thinks he has whiplash.”

You giggle. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“My little mom-car doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“I told you I liked it! I would totally pick my kids up from soccer at 6PM on Thursday in this!”

Jungkook throws a half-popped kernel at your forehead. “Rude.”

“You said the mom thing first!”

“Because I’m allowed to pick on Cheryl—she’s mine.”

“Cheryl?!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Please—don’t tell me—”

Jungkook takes the weight of his shoulder pressed against yours and pushes you over with it before you can finish your sentence. You lean away from him but bring the force back with your own shoulder, fighting him for more room on the dolphin-plushie-turned-back-rest.

You two battle for a second, pushing against each other like children until Jungkook lifts his arm up and around you, cocooning you in his warmth and bringing you to rest fully on the right side of his body. He’s leaning a little against the corner of the back of the SUV and you are nestled within his side body, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against your cheek. You breathe in and out before you realize that maybe, you should move.

You go to sit up, but Jungkook says, “Wait, stay. You’re warm.”

It’s not you that’s warm—your face, sure—but Jungkook’s body feels like your own personal heater. You try to relax, leaning against him once again in a better cuddling position with your head resting on Jungkook’s chest, right below his collarbones. You can hear his heartbeat this way—thudding what you think is a little faster than normal underneath the layers of his thin hoodie and T-shirt.

“Are you comfortable? Can you see?”

You’re not sure, but you think he sounds a little breathless—from the sudden change in your positions, or the tussle before, you can’t tell which is the culprit.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting a little so that you’re more on your side rather than just leaning over onto him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, and again, it sounds like there’s a hint of smile in his voice.

You can’t focus on the movie after that. Jungkook is too close, his intoxicating scent swirling into your nostrils with every inhale, your head rising up and down with each breath he takes. This was what friends did, right? This was totally friendly. He just wanted you to be comfortable. You repeat this to yourself as Jungkook’s hand—that was once just dangling over your shoulder—begins to trace soft patterns into your side.

You close your eyes, focusing on slowing the thumping of your heart, timing your inhales to let him know that this is okay. This is totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. You’re just here, enjoying everything that Jungkook had to offer you.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe he was just touchy—some boys were like that, after all. Some friendly relationships included tons of skinship. You just weren’t used to it, and you needed to quickly acquaint yourself with the fact that this was how it would be with him if you continued to hang out.

Before you know it, you’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t catch most of the end of the movie. In fact, you don’t even realize it’s over until the credits are rolling and people are moving around you again, the sounds of car doors and trunks slamming as people get ready to move onto their next activity.

It’s only 9PM, but it’s dark outside—the blues of the sky that had enticed you so much once before had faded to an indescribable navy, a blue so deep that it looked black. If you focused, you could see the minute twinkling of stars past the stadium lights on the outskirts that blink on after the movie is over so everyone could exit in a timely and visible fashion.

Jungkook yawns, patting your side. “I think I fell asleep for a moment—I was so comfortable here.”

He laughs in spite of himself, and you give him a breathless chuckle in return. “Sorry if I made your side sore.” You get off of him, scooting over to give him a little room to sit up straight.

“Sore?” he asks incredulously. “Y/N, you’re like a feather. I’m not that breakable.”

Boy, did you know. Thoughts of his muscular stomach flash in your mind, and you will them away. He watch him reach up to close the trunk as people begin to move outside of the car, cocooning you two back into a comfortable darkness from the tints on the back windows.

“Still.”

“Still, what?” he says. There’s a small silence that ensues. “You’re so nervous around me. Is it me?”

“What?” you say, furrowing your brow. Your skin pricks with the same nervousness that you are about refute. “I mean—”

“I know I’m pretty standoffish at the pool, but I don’t mean to be that way,” he admits. “I just felt like I was in this new place with all of these established relationships and rules. You have Jihyo, and well, Hoseok and I are close, but we’re not best friends.” He pauses. “I was really surprised when Jihyo invited me out with you all.”

“Surprised,” you repeat quietly.

His words absolutely contradict the Jungkook you thought you knew. But maybe that’s how it would always be—you realizing he had his own motives and reasons for being the way he was, and you not understanding a bit of it until he decided to divulge you in them.

“Yeah, surprised,” he nods. “I feel out of place, here. If I’m being honest.”

“But you live here.”

“I don’t have any friends though, because I’m gone for nine months out of the year,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t have any in high school, either. It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t like it here, so I didn’t see a reason to have any ties.”

You can’t really wrap your head around it, but you realize Jungkook is being vulnerable to you in this moment. You don’t want to make him regret it, so you reach out to him—the closest thing to you is his hand, resting on the duvet between you two—and you run your fingers over the soft skin in a timid, unsure fashion.

“Jihyo and I will never say no to new additions to our friend circle,” you say with a smile. “It gives us reasons not to kill each other if someone else is watching.”

Jungkook chuckles a little, holding your gaze. The trunk of the car is still closed, and most of the crowd has dispersed to other parts of the beach where the boardwalk is still alive and filled with weekend nightlife.

“That’s good to know,” Jungkook says softly, looking down at your hands on the blanket. He slides his underneath yours and links his fingers through the spaces in between.

“Y/N—” he says, leaning closer to you, “—thanks. Really.”

You lean closer as well, feeling the magnetism of your two bodies being pulled together in the dark. Your breath comes out in unmeasured puffs, threatening to give away how nervous you are. You’re glad Jungkook can’t really see you anymore, and you’re certainly glad he can’t hear the unsteady beat of your heart as your faces inch closer and closer. As the quiet of the night cocoons you two like a soft blanket, there is no noise other than your heartbeat in your ears as Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your own.

You feel his unsteady sigh outwards as he says, “Are you sure you’re not—”

You use your remaining courage to stop him before he can finish his sentence, closing the distance between your mouths into a soft, sweet kiss. It stays that way for a moment—closed-mouth and innocent—before Jungkook brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens it, pressing his mouth hard against your own in a way that is a command all in its own.

Your lips part involuntarily and Jungkook’s tongue presses softly against the ridge of your mouth, tracing the outline until he is exploring the inside with ease and expertise. As your tongues lace together, you find yourself placing heavy hands on his chest, slightly wrinkling the collar of his shirt with your nails before you slide your hands up and over his shoulders and hook them together behind his neck.

Your head tilts to the right and you push back against him, following the energy and putting it into the most passionate kissing session you’ve had—well, ever. Jungkook places his hands on your hips and pulls you over him so that you are straddling his waist, his experience showing as he places you right on top of his hardening member. You have no choice but to feel it between your thighs and the thin material of your bike shorts—a decision you certainly didn’t realize would come in handy when you’d picked them out a few hours ago in your bedroom closet.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss, getting lost within each other for what feels like hours. You can’t allow yourself to disassociate and think about anything other than what was happening in the moment—although there was a part of your brain that couldn’t believe it was happening, surely.

You were kissing Jungkook. Jungkook was kissing you—no, it was more than that. He was touching you: his hands making a lazy trail up your back, in between your shoulder blades and over the hump of your shoulders until they entangled in your hair and kept your mouth criminal to his. He was breathing you in: making a trail away from your mouth, down your jaw and neck, where he settled on sucking small, reddened splotches into the thin skin just around the collar of your pullover. You want more of him, but more would have to wait.

Jungkook pauses underneath you, much more intact with the real world than you are because he shushes you politely so that you can hear it: the tell-tale sound of your phone humming the vibrations of an incoming call.

“It’s Jihyo,” he says in the darkness, allowing the brightness of your screen to illuminate your faces, inches apart. He hands it to you, and you clear your throat in an attempt to sound less breathless than you actually are as you greet your friend.

“Where are you?” she asks—but it sounds more like a demand. “I know the movie is over by now. You haven’t answered my texts. Are you okay?”

“What?” you say but shake your head. “I’m fine, sorry. Jungkook and I were trying to find our way out of the theatre parking lot. It’s really crowded over here so we had to wait for our turn.”

In the light of your phone pressed against your cheek, you can just barely make out Jungkook’s knowing smirk in the dark.

“Hoseok and I are waiting at Pier 14. Did you two still want to get dinner?”

Jungkook nods in answer, leaning forward a little to press his lips softly against the center of your throat while you talk. You take a calming breath in and out as he mouths at the skin there, swiping his tongue over the space lightly before continuing to kiss away any of your troubles. You close your eyes again, feeling like you’re disappearing under his soft touch before you realize Jihyo is still waiting on your answer.

“Dinner sounds good,” you manage. “Text me an address—you and Hoseok can choose. I don’t care.”

You hang up before she can protest. Your mouth hovers over Jungkook’s, lips pressed together in a solid line.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you admonish him, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. “I was trying to talk.”

“I know,” he says in a soft tone, breathing out a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss—one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes you feel lightheaded before he lets you go. You feel warm all over as you two crawl toward the front of his car, returning to your seats while stealing knowing glances at each other.

You don’t want to dwell on the thoughts too much, but a lot had changed in the last hour that you couldn’t even wrap your head around, much less understand and come to accept. Your lips tingle as your mind flies through the events again, attempting to see you and Jungkook from a third-person perspective in your mind, but really just focusing on the way it felt when he was kissing you, touching you, breathing you in.

You knew one thing for certain, though: your pact with yourself was up. You weren’t just diving into the shallow anymore. You were in the deep end.

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 2/2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, “Yes”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s how their night begins.

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

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

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

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

Week six.

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

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

Last day of the school year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

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

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

[cellsshapedlikestars]

So Jon and Sansa both see a crime being commited and become prime witnesses to arrest this big crime mastermind (Petyr? Or maybe Tywin?) and they have to go to witness protection... Only witness protection makes them pretend to be a married couple when they actually don't know each other. Does that sparkle something in that brilliant brain of yours as a prompt?

Look I'm in a Mood™ today and wrote this in a weird fugue state so don't @ meeeeee. I also like barely edited this so who knows if it makes sense, and grammar? I barely know her.

Also, I don’t really know how to do trigger warning tags, so this is my warning that there are vague mentions of blood/gore/violence.

.

.

Sometimes when she wakes up, she forgets.

But then she looks around the room that isn't her room and she has to tell herself that it is. This is her room. This is her home. That is her husband downstairs making breakfast.

(And sometimes she wakes up unable to breathe, the dreams are so real; the blood and brains and pieces of skull spraying the wall in front of her, the sounds of men pleading for their lives. The strong arm wrapped around her, one hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, the only thing that kept her still and quiet and hidden under the desk, the only reason she's alive. He's downstairs making breakfast.)

….

If there was ever a place to get lost, she thinks, it's here.

She stares out the window of her house, the same as every other house on the street. Row after row of identical houses. Neighborhoods of them, the suburbs stretching on forever. They've been here for two months and she doesn't even know her neighbor's names. The one across the street is Edmond, she thinks. Maybe. Edmure? No, if it were Edmure, she would remember, because of-

(But Alayne Stone doesn't have an Uncle Edmure.)

“I'm headed out.”

She turns to look at her husband.

“Have a good day,” she calls, just like she does every day. She watches him walk out to their nondescript grey sedan, just like he does every day. He backs it out of the driveway, then drives west, towards the main road.

…

They don't talk about before.

He is Aemon Stone. They met in college, in a geography course that they both almost failed, and they fell in love. They just got married and moved here - not that any of their neighbors have asked, so she's only had to tell that story to her new coworkers at the craft store.

They're trying to start a family.

(Jon, she thinks his name is, she remembers the agents calling him that, before they were handed folders with their new lives inside. But Jon is not her husband. Aemon is.)

…

Sometimes she likes to think she's a hero, giving up her whole world just to take down the bad guy. She's a hero, a martyr, the protagonist of her own daydreams. Her actions will save the lives of countless others.

(The reality is that she had no choice. They gave her one, technically, she doesn't have to testify against Petyr Baelish, but they all knew there was no choice. If she stayed, he would've found her. He would have killed her and anyone she could have possibly told about what she saw. She knows Aemon had no choice, either, and sometimes she wonders what he gave up. But they don't talk about before.)

…

She tries not to let her mind wander too much, but it's hard not to. Her life is routine. Mundane. She makes friends with her coworkers but she can't – she won't– let them get too close.

The problem with all her free, mundane time is that it gives her space to think – gives her time to regret.

She remembers that weekend, remembers thinking what harm could it do? Remembers thinking the bachelorette party sounded so fun. Remembers taking cash out to play the slot machines, ordering drink after drink until she felt numb.

It all goes a bit fuzzy after that. No matter how hard she tries, she can never remember how she got into the back halls of the casino, to the places where guests aren't allowed. She remembers a strange man kissing her, large, with scarring across his face, who told her that a pretty bird like her shouldn't be back here and demanded a kiss as payment. She remembers running, running, running.

If only she hadn't run.

If she hadn't run, she wouldn't have found herself in that room. She wouldn't have heard the door opening, turned around to see him, watched his face twist in horror when he saw her. He wouldn't have had to tell her get down, hide.

She remembers not being able to move, frozen to the spot at the sight of the gun at his hip. She remembers the way he'd pulled her down under the desk, one arm around her waist to keep her still, one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, just in time, just before the door opened again.

(And she remembers the men who came in right after, the gruff where the fuck did Rivers get to?)

…

She's seen the tattoo.

(She doesn't think she was supposed to. Aemon Stone shouldn't have a tattoo.)

They try not to get in each other's way – he works days, she works closings. She sleeps in the master bed, he sleeps in a guest room down the hall. He wakes up early and makes breakfast and leaves her a plate. She eats while he goes for a run. But every once in a while...

That day he'd been coming back from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. She's never upstairs when he takes a shower, but she had gotten the urge to read, for the first time in months, and had gone up to grab one of the books that came with the house when she ran into him in the hall.

And there, on his chest, right above his heart, the mockingbird tattoo.

(Aemon Stone is her husband. He is not one of them.)

(But Jon Snow was.)

…

She probably should be scared, but she can never find it in her to be. Their handlers wouldn't have put them in the same house if they thought he'd hurt her.

(He's the reason she's alive. His arm around her waist, his hand over her mouth. Get down. Hide.)

…

Sometimes she wants to ask – why?

Why did he hide her?

Why is he here?

He was one of them, there's a tattoo on his chest that proves it.

Why did he save her? Give up everything for her to live?

…

She slips, once.

She's at work, in the break room, heating up a mug of soup in their tiny, low watt microwave. The break room TV is on, the news is playing, and then he's there.

Petyr Baelish, donating a giant check to an orphanage. Everyone's clapping and cheering him on and all she can hear are the screams of two men, pleading for their lives. Begging Petyr Baelish to stop. (They had wives and children and their screams echo in her head and-)

“Alayne?” her coworker, Myranda, shakes her arm. “I think your food's done?”

She's shaking so hard that the soup sloshes over the side of her mug and she apologizes as she cleans it up and Myranda asks if she's sick or something. She has to go home early because she vomits into the break room trash can.

At home, Aemon is watching football on TV and he's surprised when she comes home early. All he says is, “everything ok?” and she knows what he's asking.

“Everything's ok,” she tells him and he nods and she goes upstairs.

They don't talk about the past, but they don't talk about the present, either.

(And they definitely don't talk about the future.)

…

There's one time she doesn't wake up confused or breathless.

She wakes up screaming.

In her dream, he finds her. In her dream, Petyr Baelish walks around the desk and bends down and reaches under and pulls her out. In her dream, he tortures her like he did those men. In her dream, he puts a gun to her head, just like he did-

She wakes up screaming.

The door to her room slams open and she takes a gasping breath and looks up at her husband, standing in the doorway with a baseball bat in his hand. His hair is wild and his eyes are wide as they search her room and she tries to tell him it's all in her head but she can't make her voice work. When she tries, the words just come out as a small sob and she watches his tensed shoulders relax and he sets down the baseball bat.

She curls into herself and cries into her bent knees – for her dreams and her fears and the knowledge that this might never end. It's a choking, clawing abyss in her chest that's been growing as the days and weeks and months slide by – that she will never see her family again. She'll never eat mom's cooking or hear her dad yell at the TV when his team loses or see Robb's infectious smile or argue with Arya or talk about philosophy with Bran or watch one of Rickon's basketball games. She'll never get to play with Lady again.

She has kept them locked away inside her, tried to forget about them because Alayne Stone doesn't have a family.

The bed dips and she lets out another gasping sob as she feels an arm settle around her shoulders. “Alayne,” he says, and then again. Again and again, until - “Sansa.”

“I'm not Sansa,” she whispers when she finally looks up.

“Sometimes you need to be,” he says, his voice is steady and he brings one hand up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “It's hard, not everyone can just change who they are. Especially not like this.”

“You say that like you're some expert,” she sniffs, wiping at her cheeks now that her tears have slowed. She feels like a mess – her eyes feel hot and puffy, her nose feels raw, her throat is sore, but she also feels more human than she has in months.

He hesitates, seems to think hard about something before - “Aemon Stone isn't the first person I've had to become.” She jerks back a bit, but she doesn't pull away.

(He saved her life.)

“Who else?”

“Before this, I was Aegon Rivers.”

“I thought your name was Jon Snow? That's what they called you.”

“Jon Snow,” he says, voice low and soothing and she feels herself relax, settles into the warmth of his arms a bit more, “is a federal agent who went undercover with the Mockingbirds two years ago.”

She looks at him, then – really looks at him. At his grey eyes and his long face and his black hair wild from sleep, at the scar that runs through his eyebrow and the dark stubble that he meticulously shaves off every morning.

“Jon Snow fits you better,” she tells him.

“And Sansa Stark fits you.”

“I'm not Sansa Stark anymore,” she reminds him again, feeling her voice waver, though she thought she was past it. “This was just a bad dream, I promise I'll do better.”

“Like I said, sometimes it's hard,” he tells her. “And sometimes it's easy to forget who you are.”

“Is it for you?” she asks. He doesn't answer, but she thinks he doesn't need to, she can see it in him and she wonders how much of Jon Snow he remembers. Two years is a long time to be someone else. “I don't...” her voice breaks and she has to drop into a whisper. “I don't want to forget them. I know I have to-”

“What if,” he cuts in when her words fail her completely, “what if we're Jon Snow and Sansa Stark here?”

“They told us we-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I don't mean... not in the house. Not during the day. But how about, once a week, at night, when it's just us, when the rest of the world is sleeping – I'll come in here and just for an hour, we can remember.”

The words make her ache and she nods and looks over at her clock. One hour – one hour to remember who she is and where she comes from. One hour to talk about anything and everything – about the past and the present and the future. It's not a lot and it's a risk and against the rules, but-

“Yes. Please.”

He nods and looks a bit grim and she wonders, once again – why? She doesn't think he wants to talk about Jon Snow. He's doing it for her – he's saving her life again and she still doesn't know why. Maybe she'll find out, some day.

“Ok,” he breathes, like he's jumping off the deep end, “Sansa Stark – what's your favorite color?”

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were (pt3)

 harry appreciates reader in his speech but finally talks to her when she runs off crying

part 1

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing WORDCOUNT - 3,501

_________________________________________________________

   My head was empty while I appreciated the company of a glass of wine and city view of the venue. I leaned against the railing of the small balcony nook I found, away from the crowd of people as Bowie was played faintly through the speakers.

I arrived to the party alone. Even if our relationship is awkward at the moment, I couldn't miss his birthday. Especially if it feels like it would be the last one I attend for a while. It took me only a few seconds to find him talking to his management team, a conversation that I didn't want to interrupt. And for the next twenty minutes I find myself isolated from everyone. Maybe because I know the relationship topic would inevitably come up at one point during any conversation I join into. But also because I didn't know how to approach Harry himself anymore. I can't bring myself to start the conversation, but for him, it seems like everything is good and normal.

I promised myself to only one glass of wine, so when I finished that rather quickly then intended, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. As much as I've been trying to think like Harry and feel completely normal again, I hated how much our relationship has effected me. No matter how many times I've told myself that it's better this way, I've avoided hanging out with mutual friends to keep away from a conversation about Heather.

I took a deep breath and turned around, looking into the venue to catch Harry smiling and nodding to Gemma. One arm across his chest while his cheek rested against the other. He looked too good this evening, wearing a worn vest and matching bell bottom pants. I allowed myself to stare till his eyes glanced in my direction and catch mine.

I soften when his smile grows wider and he excuses himself away from the conversation. "For some reason, I'd knew you'd come here when we checked out the space." He says as he walks out into the balcony. "Almost had a reservation sign put up with your name on it."

He engulfs me in a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and find myself resting my head on his broad shoulder when I realize this was our first hug in weeks. Oh how much I missed this feeling.

"I appreciate the thought but damn, am I thought obvious?"

"Oh I just know you too well and you love me for it."

I feel goosebumps, finding ourselves though pulled away, still in each other's arms while I smile up at him. I hummed In response before holding up a finger and turning to get the small box in my purse. When I turn back around he has a sly smirk on his face as he looks at the box wrapped with a yellow bow I hold out to him.

"Happy birthday Harry. I wanted to give this to you in person." He takes the box and unwraps the ribbon and opens it. I hold my breath, watching his reaction as he stares at a familiar string of pearls. He runs his fingers through them, a look of admiration set on his face as I twiddled my fingers.

"I always let you wear mine so I just thought you'd like a pair of your own."

"You know me well too."

"And you love me for it." I chuckled, immediately turning around and looking out onto the view as he situates himself next to me, the box once again closed and held tightly in his hands. "I'll wear these till I wear them out. Oh! We'll wear them at the same time like friendship necklaces." He tells me, giving me a side hug and squeezing my arm.

I laughed at the thought, "Only we could make friendship necklaces out of pearls worth hundreds of dollars."

We stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company. The elephant in the room knows it's been a few weeks since the last time we shared a moment alone. I'm just not sure how he feels about the reason why.

"Shouldn't you go back out there? Supposed to be a good host." I nudged his shoulder with mine, not wanting to take him away from his party and not knowing how much I could take how hard my chest is beating at the same time.

"Well you're here. Almost thought you wouldn't show since you're weren't early."

"Can't I be fashionably late for once?"

"Glad you are though, bubs. Honestly was about to spend the night a sad man when Heather canceled."

Here we go, the one topic I dreaded would come up. Of course it would be with him when it does. "Oh. Uh she isn't here?"

"No yeah she ehm. She left yesterday for Paris. Last minute gig she booked." He shrugged it off like it was not a big deal, but he's playing with the yellow ribbon in a way that tells me otherwise.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure she'll make it up when she get's back." He scoffs, undoing the bow he just made with the ribbon. "If by 'make up' you mean a few hours in bed before she jet sets to Milan for a few months then yeah."

"Harry, you should tell her that you want her here."

"No, no it's fine. She can do whatever she wants, it's her career."

"It's also your birthday. Shouldn't girlfriends or whatever you two are right now care about that stuff?" I sighed, gently taking away the ribbon and box from him, wrapping it back while he turns and rests his back on the railing, crossing his arms and facing the entrance back into the venue. "That's the thing, I don't know what she wants out of this. I never did even when we were really together. When we were, it's so picture perfect and then when we'd get busy with our own lives, it's just so on and off. We blamed it on bad timing and long distance in the end but now that I think about it, we didn't know where to go from there."

"Do you know what you want now?"

"I think I do."

I tilted my head, growing frustrated but kept my tone calm. "Then why don't you just talk?"

"Ugh you know I'm not a confrontational person bubs." He finally looks at me, seeing me roll my eyes while he laughs it off. I shake my head, tapping on the box as he reaches out to rub my arm. "You're a dummy, Harry."

"Why do you call me that?"

I glanced at him, shrugging. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to 'H' hmm? Been calling me Harry for a while." Though his tone was lighthearted, his brows are furrowed and I can feel his intense stare.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"Obviously, but...I don't know, never mind-"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." We suddenly hear from inside, making us both turn at the same time to see Jeff holding a cake and a crowd gathered around him, slowly walking towards the balcony where the birthday boy was. His smile grows back and we exchange a look before I hand him back my present and walk back in towards the celebration.

                                                           ***

"Well, I am a man of a few words... but a good comedian doesn't repeat the same joke two years in a row. Ehm, I'm gonna do what I know best which is to spew whatever I feel from in here and hope it sounds somewhat poetic." He laughs a little at his own joke, making little hand gestures and smiling when he gets the laughs and smiles back from his words. His eyes stray to the people in front of him and to the side in thought at times, but he makes the effort to look at his friends, family members and co-workers who he is ultimately grateful for. My eyes soften at his toothy grin, knowing I look like a complete fool as I stare at him in complete adoration despite it being completely obvious how enamored I am for this man.

He gives short thank you's to the his band members and relatives he's grown close too. I laugh at his awkward jokes but also the narcissistic ones he makes that boost his confidence a bit. He has one thing prepared to say for everyone that makes them melt. "Thank you Jeff for having to deal with me another year as well, while you do look after me I am always appreciative of how you act more as an old grandpa than a dude in a business suit."

"I also want to thank Heather..."

My smile dies down a bit, knowing he would want to say something about her even when she isn't here. What made my chest hurt once again was the realization that he hadn't said anything about me yet. I had anticipated it, wondering what he would say but he had skipped right over me. I placed my hand on my knee to keep it from shaking as Harry said her name instead.

"I'll just text her later but I wanted to thank her for allowing me to write about her and being an overall beautiful person."

Thinking his speech was over and accepting how little I meant to him, he finally calls my name. I froze for a bit, looking up at him to see him already looking at me. He paused a bit, an amused look on his face when he sees how caught off guard I was.

"I saved the best for last for two reasons, one because she looks adorably silly right now..." He chuckles when I save myself with an eye roll and stuck my tongue out at him.

"And two, because I knew it'll be harder for me to come up with the words to describe how important of a person you are to me."

The curiosity and need to know what he would say about me, as well as the internalized emotional stress grew. His tone was softer and he seemed more calmer than he was a few minutes ago. The sentence already began making my heart pump and ache, and the recent events that had shaken up our relationship almost thrown out the window when he continued.

"You're so good to me and I can't thank you endlessly enough for everything you've done for the past year since I hired you. Not only was it the best decision I ever made because of how talented you are, but it also gave me the opportunity to really know someone like you. I was in a bad place when you met me and I'll never forget the kindness and patience you showed me even then. And though you call me a 'boomer' so many times and constantly come up with better melodies than me, it's worth every witty joke and bad pun just to see a smile that lights up the room. Your friendship is worth every time you complain about my kale chips."

His eyes were caught on mine from the beginning, both his hands are holding his wine glass though he held confidence in his speech. It felt like just us two in the room, his words giving tone of a very intimate moment shared between two bestfriends. I bit my bottom lip, can't seeming to stop smiling.

"And though you'll be off writing more amazing music with different amazing artists - only temporarily - know that I'll always be rooting for you and always will be -"

He breaks eye contact for a moment, but that moment was enough. "- will be uhm, proud of you." His smile grows ten times wider and he sounds relieved when he looks off onto the entrance of the venue as someone arrives. His eyes go back and forth, distracted but wanting to finish what he had left to say.

"Through thick and thin, love, you always were able to be there for me."

At that point he was fully looking at the person who arrived and I didn't have the guts to turn around to see who it was. My smile instantly dies and the warmth in my chest was just filled with a familiar pang that hasn't left all this time.

Because there she was, though out of breath and all over the place, just looked perfect as she grins and mouths 'happy birthday' to him while he haphazardly continues empty compliments that are now meant for her. My vision is blurry but my eyes are stuck on the actual person he deems important in his life. This lovely being who canceled last minute but makes it in time so he'd be truly happy.

He meant to say all of it to her. You just happened to be here when she wasn't. He doesn't love you like he loves her and he never will. He never had.

It was hard looking back at him, already knowing the way he looks at her. It was deja vu. She shows up and he's instantly mesmerized.

But I did and it suddenly was all too much. Because he glanced at me when he was saying his last words, seeing me silently cry in the middle of the crowd and looking distraught. And it all grew too claustrophobic, needing to get away and leave because all I felt now was anger.

"Hey, you okay?" Gemma asks, her brows furrowed in concern. I force a smile and nodded before excusing myself. "Yeah, just fine."

                                                         ***

 I pushed open the door and quickly walked out of the lobby and onto the parking lot, ignoring the distant calls of my name that grew louder and louder. I hugged my coat, trying to breathe but grew more frustrated with the growing ache in my chest. I sobbed, knowing he was catching up and didn't have the energy to deal with him right now.

"Hey, what happened - are you okay?" Harry had took hold of my arm, turning me around and all I could do was push him away. "Bubs, talk to me please."

"Stop, please I'm so tired and I physically can't be near you." I softly said, not bothering to wipe away tears anymore. He looks confused and I only scoffed at him, crossing my arms and moving back when he stepped closer, holding out his.

"What do you mean? Please let me- you're crying." He tries coming closer but I shake my head, dodging his embrace because I knew I would instantly melt.

"Yes, I'm crying! I've been crying and hurting all month because of you Harry!" I cried and he instantly freezes. "You keep doing this shit and all this time I've been coming up with excuses for it. That- I don't know, maybe that you can't help what you're feeling or that I really can't blame you- but now I do! Because you know exactly what you're doing and it's so shitty that I had to realize it this late."

"W-what are you talking about?" He's nervous.

"Oh shut the fuck up you know exactly what I'm talking about. You've avoided actually talking ever since we kissed, even before Heather came back into the picture. You completely pushed me to the side the second she gave you her attention and ever since then our whole relationship has changed Harry! And either you're so fucking oblivious or too much of a coward to face it because you just acting like everything was fine and normal broke my fucking heart even more. It obviously meant so little to you but fuck, it-"

I took a deep breathe only resorting to another sob as I placed a hand over my heart. "It meant so much to me."

I see him crying too, fumbling with his fingers and trying to hold those tears in only to lose some as he's stood still, not knowing what to do. He's guilty, his need to hold me and cry gives it away but I couldn't allow him that. And he knows it's something he doesn't deserve.

"I would of understood Harry. That you didn't feel the same fireworks and butterflies like I did when we kissed - as cliché as it fucking is. That you've fallen in love with Heather when she came back because I honestly still can't blame you for that, she's an angel. That you can't control who you love, but you never said anything. You just lead me on and didn't talk to me - why didn't you just fucking talked to me Harry, aren't we supposed to be best friends?"

He's now only inches away from me, taking hold of my hands because I was too worn out to even pull them back. "Yes! Yes, we are and I'm a stupid idiot. I'm sorry I- I should of just been upfront with you but I was so confused- and I still am. I just- I meant everything I said earlier and more because I'm always thinking about you bubs-"

I laugh at this shaking my head, not allowing anymore hope to built up. "I am! Mitch and Jeff are so fucking tired of hearing about it, but honestly so was I. But only because Heather was still in my heart and I just didn't know what to do or wanted and please believe me, I never ever wanted to hurt you."

"Why did you kiss me then?" I broke out of his hold, stepping back once again.

"I don't know darling, It just felt right and I didn't think. I-I just thought you'd leave if you knew I wasn't sure."

"Being honest about it with your supposed best friend was going to make it worse?"

"I just...I didn't want to lose you."

"But what now? you got her back, so what am I to you now? Was I supposed to be your distraction, the only option left for you to turn to? Because you fully well know that I'd drop everything I was doing just to comfort you when you were low Harry. I canceled set plans and promises because you simply asked me too, and I did since I'd always foolishly put you first because I thought you'd genuinely liked me."

"Bubs-"

"Don't. Harry you can't just put me on the side and come back to me later on if your relationships don't work out, that's not fucking fair! Ever since we met all I've been getting from you are mixed signals and I couldn't confront you about it because you'd always avoid the topic, making me feel damn silly for even thinking that way. It's just-  you can't build up expectation of something between us simply because I'm the safe second option - fuck that hurts saying that."

"I- I didn't mean to make you feel that way-"

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing Harry. You're just to arrogant to own up to it. So fucking immature, all you had to do was talk!"

"Okay, okay I'm sorry let's talk, please! Don't walk away like this, we can talk now and fix this."

"No. You only want to talk now because it's convenient for you. That's the thing Harry."

"Stop-"

"You say you didn't want to hurt me, but you didn't want to hurt yourself first. And I just- I just hate how long it took me to realize how mean you are Harry."

"Don't call me Ha- you don't mean that."

"I do! and you know it too." He's struck by it and I'm giving up. Hurt is evident in his face and it doesn't feel good to make him sad, but now all I feel is disappointment and pity for myself.  

"Since you couldn't have the balls to talk to me, I just always really wanted to tell you that I love you. Really fucking love you. As if you didn't already know, but... I guess it never really even mattered."

He calls my name deflatingly when I turn around, walking away. His last attempts of apologizing and begging for me to come back to him drift off into empty words that I block out as I stepped into my car and drove away. The time it takes for me to drive felt like days pass, but now turned to seconds when I turned off the engine and idled inside. I was still crying, still processing, all while replaying our last moment together. The one spent on the floor of the recording studio with a makeshift picnic before I spend the next days erasing it from my memory.

I sent him a text before going inside, turning off my phone right afterwards to avoid the rest of the incoming calls and text messages begging to fix what was left of us.

'I'll email you the lyrics to the last song tomorrow. Then I'm done.'

____________________________________________________________

A/N: i’m hurting. but this is the second to last chapter of this mini-series, pt4 is the finale and will be out soon :)

[elfwoodfae]

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

[drabbles-mc]

For The Weekend

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by @gemini0410: Could I ask for a song request? "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift with Angel Reyes pretty please? 😍🥰💜

Warnings: language, Angel being a softie and a flirt

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just really liked the fun and flirty energy of this song and I thought that it went really well with Angel. Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @encounterthepast @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @lilacyennefer @everyhowlmarksthedead @starrynite7114 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @sincerelyasomebody @mijop @sadeyesgf @xladymacbethx @thesandbeneathmytoes @blessedboo @appropriate-writers-name @holl2712 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @lakamaa12 @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @garbinge @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @luckyharley1903​

You leaned over the pool table to line up your shot, chuckling and shaking your head as Angel tried to get you to choke and miss. The two of you had been going back and forth all night, and the banter somehow led to you challenging him to a pool game. When he’d lost the first one, he changed it so that it was the best two out of three.

“And what do I get when I win, by the way?” you asked with a smirk as you sank another shot.

Angel shook his head, “Is my company not a good enough prize for you, querida?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “I’ve already got that. Was looking for something a little extra.”

Excitement flashed across his face for a moment, but whatever comments he was thinking, he kept to himself for the time being. You bit lightly on your bottom lip before taking your next shot. You missed, but barely. Not according to Angel, who was gloating that he finally got you to choke.

“Alright, then let’s see what you can do, Mr. Reyes,” you said with a smirk.

He was intently lining up his shot when you casually perched yourself on the edge of the pool table. He caught a glimpse of the way that your shorts slid up a little higher on your leg, and it was just enough of a distraction to cost him his shot. His miss was much more obvious than yours, but you were kind enough to not call it out loud to the entire club. Instead, you walked over, standing dangerously close to him.

“Gotta stay focused, baby,” you said quietly with a laugh.

“You just here looking for trouble?” he cocked one eyebrow as a smirk crept over his face.

You shrugged, “It’s a bonus.”

You knew that Angel had a bit of a reputation. There were more than a few rumors floating around that you’d heard and you were willing to bet that most of them were true. You were more than willing to find out for yourself. You could also tell by the way that he was looking at you that he’d probably heard a thing or two about you as well. Part of you wondered how much he believed of what he’d heard. Something must’ve piqued his interest if he was willing to go back and forth with you all night like he had been.

You won your second game in a row, and Angel decided that he was going to take his loss on the chin and keep moving forward. You laughed, “What, don’t wanna see if you can get best three outta five?”

“I know when I’m beat,” he laughed, “I’ll even buy you a drink.”

“Oh, is that my prize?”

“Were you hoping for something else?” you could see the mischief in his eyes.

You dragged your teeth lightly along your bottom lip, “I had a couple ideas in mind.”

He stepped in close to you so that you were the only one who could hear what he was saying, “Don’t get in over your head, Y/N. That’s a dangerous mistake.”

You pulled away so you could look him in the eye, “A mistake that I’d be willing to make.”

“So what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Take me for a ride,” you saw the way his eyes widened and you laughed, giving him a playful slap on the arm, “On your bike.”

“Oh, right,” he smirked, “I think I could do that.”

“Right now?” you arched your eyebrow.

“It’s your prize,” he shrugged with a quiet laugh, “I’m at your mercy.”

One end of your mouth quirked up into a smirk, “Dangerous position to be in.”

You could see it in his body language that he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you, “Maybe I like a little danger.”

You delicately traced your fingertips over the patches on the front of his kutte, “Then let’s go,” your hand dropped down and grabbed his, tugging him to follow you.

Angel trailed behind you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly the closer you got to the door of the clubhouse. You heard Coco and Gilly call after the two of you, but you ignored it, simply shaking your head as you bumped the clubhouse door open with your hip.

It was still warm out, considering how late it had gotten. The light from the clubhouse and the lone lamppost just outside the compound shined just enough for the two of you to be able to make your way across the lot to where the bikes were parked. You turned to face Angel, taking your strides backwards as you looked him up and down with a smile. He shook his head, trying not to let his smile be too apparent on his face.

“What’re you looking so happy about, huh?” Angel asked as he backed you up against his bike.

Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment but you tried not to let it show, “I got Angel Reyes to leave a party early. I’m just…a little proud of myself for that one.”

He smiled and shook his head before reaching forward and lightly running his thumb along your cheekbone, “You’re a hard girl to say no to.”

He leaned against you, his face incredibly close to yours. You felt your knees tremble slightly and for a moment you thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you. Before you could get swept away in those thoughts, the heat from his body being pressed against yours was gone as he leaned back, handing you the helmet he’d grabbed from the handlebar of his bike. The tiny smirk playing at his lips let you know that every move of his was intentional, trying to figure out the best way to get you worked up. You let out a shaky laugh as you held his helmet in your hands, realizing that beating him at pool might’ve been easy but the game you two were playing now, you were both experienced players.

“Suit up, querida,” he chuckled as he gently moved you so he could get onto his bike, “Don’t want you getting hurt on your victory lap.”

You laughed as you clipped the helmet on, tightening it slightly before hopping onto the bike behind him. You ran your hands down his sides and onto his thighs, feeling his body tense up as you did. His attempt to play it off didn’t fool you, and you giggled quietly to yourself as he took your hands and pulled your arms around his waist.

“Above the belt at all times when we’re on the bike,” his false serious tone was easy to see through.

“What about when we aren’t on the bike?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

You settled against his back as he started up the bike. He rolled out of the clubhouse lot, but once the tires hit the road, Angel took off like a bullet. You laughed as you pressed tighter to him, enjoying the adrenaline and the slight sense of fear that went through you as he took each curve with expert precision. Nothing else could be heard over the wind in your ears and the roar of Angel’s bike, and it was the most at-peace that you had felt in a long time.

It wasn’t until you were a few miles into the ride that you realized that you had never asked Angel where the two of you were going. You supposed that you didn’t really care, but you were curious. You’d left the familiar streets of Santo Padre behind and hit the highway, the road stretching on endlessly before you. The two of you seemed to be the only ones on the street, making Angel a little cocky as he weaved and sped up, earning some excited laughter from you. You felt him vibrating with laughter as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.

When he finally slowed back down to a reasonable speed, he took one hand off the handlebar and rested it on top of yours. Heat seeped from his hand into yours as he carefully entwined your fingers. He might’ve been showing off, but there was still something about it that felt sweet. He seemed so comfortable as the two of you cruised through the darkness, the sky lit up only by the stars and the full moon.

“You never asked where we’re going,” Angel spoke up for the first time since you’d left the clubhouse.

You laughed, “Didn’t think it mattered.”

He shook his head but didn’t make any other remark as he pulled off of an exit from the highway. You had no idea where he might be taking you, and with anyone else that might’ve been a scary thought, but not with him. Whatever the adventure was, you were all-in. Something about being with Angel made you stop giving a damn about the consequences—whatever happened, it would be worth it.

You could’ve spent the entire night riding around California with no real destination. He slowed down as he started to roll through the streets of a town that you hadn’t ever been to before. Wherever you were going, you knew he’d been there before. His route was deliberate and if anything, that made you more curious.

“Should I even bother asking?” you said with a laugh.

He shook his head, “Nope,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a few more minutes, the two of you landed yourself in the parking lot of a small diner. The sign said that it was open 24 hours a day, and it looked like one of those places that you wouldn’t think to stop into if you were just passing through. But if Angel was making a point to bring you here, you knew that there had to be more to the place that what met the eye.

“Awful long drive just to get to a diner,” you said with a laugh as you hopped off his bike.

He smiled at you, “A worthwhile one, though,” he draped his arm around your shoulders, “Best empanadas in California, hands-down.”

You smiled up at him, “Oh really? How’d you come to find that out?”

“We stopped in here one time on our way back from a run—one of the only places that’s open all night long. This little, old Dominican woman came out of the kitchen when a few of us rolled in here—didn’t even take our orders,” he laughed, “Just brought us out some food and we all fell in love a little bit.”

You chuckled, “Talk about good customer service.”

He laughed, “She doesn’t fuck around. I come here whenever I can’t sleep. She gives me food and refuses to give me any drinks with caffeine in them because they’ll keep me up even longer.”

He held open the door for you and you stepped inside, instantly feeling at home in the cozy little establishment. You scanned the seating area and besides you and Angel, there were only two other people there, and they didn’t even look up from their meals when you had walked in.

Angel guided you over to a table and pulled out a chair for you. The overly flirtatious trouble-maker from the clubhouse seemed to disappear once you rolled into the parking lot. You felt like you were getting a look at a completely different side of Angel.

Before he could sit down, a woman, you assumed she was the one that he had just been telling you about, walked over. She shook her head at him but you could see that there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Angel held out his arms, “Hermosa, I’ve missed you.”

She waved him off, “Sit down. You saw me two nights ago,” she smiled at him before looking at you, then back to him, “Not Ezekiel.”

He laughed, taking a seat across from you, “No, not Ezekiel. This is Y/N. I told her that you make the best empanadas in California.”

She turned and looked at you, clearly trying to figure out what she thought of you. You sat still, letting her decide how she felt about you. After a few moments of silence she nodded with a small smile, “He’s right. Best empanadas in California, at least. You’ll see.”

Angel didn’t oversell it. Despite the fact that it was past 2AM and you were in a diner you’d never been to, in a town that you had no idea what or where it was, you were having one of the best nights of your life. The food, the company, the feeling of being completely detached from everything else that was going on in your life—you didn’t want to go back.

“I think you’re dangerous for me, Angel Reyes,” you said with a small smile as you took a sip of your drink.

“And I thought I was the one in danger with you,” he smirked.

You laughed as you leaned forward, resting your arms on the edge of the table, “While we were riding, I repeatedly had the thought that I wouldn’t care if we just took off and didn’t go back. I was fully prepared to just go along for the ride.”

“You’d last a weekend, maybe,” he leaned forward, mimicking your position, “Before you’d wanna bail and go home.”

“If I didn’t know better, Angel, I’d say that that was a challenge.”

He smirked, “Your words, not mine.”

“Can’t believe you’re trying to bait me into running off with you,” you laughed with a shake of your head.

“You’re the one who wanted to go for a ride,” he smiled at you, “Can’t help if you fall in love with me in the process.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face, “You sure think a lot of yourself, huh?”

He laughed but didn’t give you any other response to the question. The two of you sat there, each fighting the urge to reach across the table to take the other’s hands. It felt like a game of chicken, even though both of you desperately wanted to cave. Angel leaned in as he told you stories about late-night antics with the guys on their way back home after runs. You listened intently, finding yourself a little more enamored than necessary with the way his eyes lit up as he jumped from story to story, thriving off of having someone to talk with.

You’d hardly noticed the amount of time the two of you had spent sitting and talking at the table. You knew that it would be wise to hit the road and head home, and yet you didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. The little bubble the two of you were existing in for the time being was far more inviting than the real world.

“Think she does orders to-go?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Absolutely not,” she materialized seemingly out of nowhere to scoop up your plates, a kind smile on her face.

“I was just about to say that, you didn’t give me a chance,” Angel laughed as he dug out his wallet to pay the bill.

The two of you were making your way out the door and back towards Angel’s bike. His hand landed in the small of your back and you allowed him to pull you closer against his side. The short walk across the parking lot felt like it was so much longer as you reveled in every stride the two of you took together. His fingers slid underneath the thin fabric of your shirt and you chose not to comment on it, enjoying the contact more than you maybe should have.

When you reached the bike, Angel stood in front of you, looking down into your eyes to try and figure out what the next move was going to be. His hands were resting lightly on your hips and something told you that he didn’t want the night to be over yet, either. You wondered if his pride would win out, if he wouldn’t want to be the one to cop to it.

“So what’s next, querida, hm?”

“Am I still cashing in on my prize?” you rested your hands against his chest, “Or has that timed out?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It’s whatever you want.”

You drummed your fingers lightly against the leather of his kutte, “I do like the sound of that,” you saw the smirk on his face and asked, “Any other places you’re in the mood to show me on our little joyride?”

He chuckled, “Maybe. I know a nice hotel a little ways up the road there,” he nodded back towards the road.

“Oh, do you now?” you fought back your laughter.

He pulled you against him for a moment, heat from his chest bleeding over into yours “I do,” he smiled as he handed you the helmet, “Ready to see if you can last the weekend?”

You bit down on your bottom lip with a nod, “Yea, I’m more than willing to win another bet against you, Reyes.”

He chuckled as he hopped onto his bike and waited for you to do the same, “Yea,” he settled into his seat as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, “We’ll see.”

[7-wonders]

Hardships Unnumbered

Summary: The quest to save Julia begins, but not everything is as it seems in this mystical land.

Word Count: 1969

A/N: Hi friends! This is the second chapter of my Labyrinth King!Michael AU fic, "It's Only Forever." I'll link the first chapter down below. I hope that you enjoy and, as always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

(also there's a couple of little easter eggs/one big one and I'm really excited to see who figures them out)

Chapter One

Though you put your hands out in front of you to brace yourself, it doesn’t help you to discern which way is up and which way is down until you finally stop rolling. With a groan, you shove yourself up to your feet. Your palms are scraped and slightly bleeding, your jeans are torn at the knees, and leaves and twigs now adorn your hair. All in all, this is not the way you had hoped to start this mission to get Julia back.

Now that you’re already at the bottom of the hill, it’s easier to decide how to start this jaunt through the Labyrinth. After all, you certainly can’t go back up, and the solid ground beneath your feet only leads one way. The shining spires of Michael's castle at the center of the maze, closer than you had thought, rise high above you and act as a compass. All factors considered, you can definitely run this in a couple of hours. Then, once you’re both safely out of here, your first order of business is to call the cops.

Your confidence begins to fade the longer that you walk along with the wall separating you from the inside of the maze. There’s no door, or arch, or opening anywhere to be seen. Turning around, you look back to see if you’ve missed the entrance. Instead of finding one, movement catches your eye. A man, tall and willowy, cries out victoriously at something trapped under his foot. He seems to be your best bet, and you decide to approach him.

“Excuse me?” you say.

The man startles, obviously not expecting to see anybody here. “Oh!” he cries in surprise, looking at you as if you’re the first person to ever cross his path. His hair is bleached to look almost white, and he has a pair of oddly-shaped sunglasses with purple lenses covering his eyes. The checkered jumpsuit, complete with ruffles on the shoulders, both does and doesn’t go with the sunglasses. You’re not quite sure why the people that live here dress so funny, but it’s making you feel underdressed.

“Which way do I go to get into the Labyrinth?”

“Now, why would I tell you that?”

“Because you must have come from there,” you pause, looking down at the man’s foot when you hear a squeaking, “oh! Is that a fairy?”

“Mhm.” Your childlike wonder is abruptly swept out from under you when he kicks the small, blue creature into the forest.

“Why did you do that? That wasn’t very nice!”

“Go ahead and pick one up,” the man says, “you’ll see how nice they are when you’re missing a finger.” As if to prove his point, a fairy flies up to you and hisses in your face, showing off two rows of razor sharp teeth. “What is it that you wanted, again?”

You huff. “To know which way to go to get into the Labyrinth.”

“Did you try asking it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” You roll your eyes in disbelief before mocking him. “‘Labyrinth, please let me in!’ Is that what I should say?”

He doesn’t have to respond, for a sudden rumbling has you turning around. To your shock, there’s suddenly an open space in the wall that hadn’t been there just a second ago.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m Gallant.” You want to tell him that you weren’t guessing his name, you don’t even want to know his name, but he continues. “Who are you?”

“(Y/N).”

“Ah, that’s right.” So this is one of Michael’s ‘subjects?’ After all, if your dreams have been right (and you’re still half-convinced this is just the elaborate scheme of some unhinged weirdo and not magic, despite what you just saw), then that means that Michael is also the ruler of the Underworld. With that logic, Gallant must be some sort of a demon. If that’s the case, you certainly don’t want anything to do with him.

“Well,” you say awkwardly, “I’m going to go now. Running on limited time, and all that.”

“You’re just going to go in there? Alone?”

“Yep.”

“But--but the Labyrinth leads to the Labyrinth King!”

“That’s kind of the whole reason why I’m here.”

“You’re going to get hurt in there.” Gallant gasps. “You could even die in there!”

You set your shoulders, walking to the hole in the wall and glancing back. “I won’t, but thanks for the concern.”

“Wait!” Even if you did want to listen to what he had to say, you couldn’t, for the wall closes back up on itself the moment you step through it. Mildly jarred though you may be, there’s not much you can do to change this, so you turn around and try to figure out whether to go right or left. Both directions look exactly the same, so with the flip of a mental coin, you go right.

After both walking and jogging for what must have been over a mile, you’re no closer to any sort of landmark that would tell you where you are or how close you are to the castle. There haven’t even been any corners to turn past, just one long, unending aisle. You’re starting to feel a little claustrophobic as you finally come to a stop, needing to take a break for a minute. Sinking down against the wall into a sitting position, you find yourself looking back and forth down the path. Both directions look exactly the same, for as far as you can see. You groan dejectedly and put your head in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of pity before getting up and trying again.

“Hey there!”

You jump at the sudden Southern-sounding voice. “Who’s there?”

“Me, of course!”

Looking around, you see a small door just to your left, and a small woman, probably less than a foot tall, standing next to you. Her curly blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, showing off her pointy ears. “And you’re...talking to me?”

“There’s nobody else around, is there?” The woman glances inside the open door. “‘Cept the missus, of course.”

Another woman, also blonde, pokes her head outside and smiles up at you. “Hello!”

“Why don’t ya come inside for a while? ‘Delia makes a killer gumbo.”

“Uh...no thanks. I’m just taking a break for a moment before I find a way to the castle.”

The woman’s face turns severe, and she holds her shawl tighter around herself. “You must be awfully brave if you’re so determined to go up there.”

Brave? You wouldn’t call yourself brave. Stupid, maybe, for bowing to the whims of the guy who’s kidnapped your charge, but not brave.

“But anyways, just go through the wall across from us and you’ll be on your way.”

You look in front of you to see the solid wall. “Through there?”

She nods.

Logic is telling you that this is obviously false, but, considering the same thing happened with Gallant, it can’t hurt to try. Standing up, you cautiously put your hand up to the wall, expecting to meet, well, a wall. Instead, you almost fall through a doorway that leads to another passage in the Labyrinth. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You will be if you keep going.”

You choose to ignore this, at this point knowing that everybody who lives here is terrified of their ruler. “Thanks for the help.”

The elf stares at your back as you walk through the new corridor, figure becoming smaller and smaller. “If she would have stuck around, I would have been able to get her on the right track back home, not towards that horrible man.”

From inside the house, a timer beeps. “Misty, supper’s ready!”

///

In the stone chamber of the King of the Underworld’s throne room, a three year old girl is currently winning a staring contest against a demon. Michael watches as the demon’s eyes begin to water (with blood, of course), before he eventually gives in and blinks. The little girl cheers before looking at Michael.

“My daddy’s gonna kick your butt, you know. He saved mama from aliens once.”

“Silence, child,” Michael commands, but he can’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It’s difficult to hide his amusement when this child is the most lively thing to grace his castle since...well, he can’t quite remember since when.

Being surrounded by demons of all shapes and sizes, with a variety of horns or extra eyes or tails, gets old after a while. Demons, quite frankly, are a bore. All they want to do is scare people and cause mayhem, yet continue to use the same methods that have been in place for thousands of years. If Michael’s being honest with himself, everything’s a bore to him here. In the early years, this job had been quite fun. Lots of naive humans to terrify and endless souls to torture.

Michael himself had been prone to naivety, then. It was easy to deal with the buffoons that called themselves demons when it seemed that, soon enough, he would find somebody to share this burden with him. After all, it was the guy upstairs who believed that emotions were for the humans. Michael, however, found it to be one of the most carnal pleasures. To love, and to be loved, seemed like the greatest sin. As the years passed, and the whole routine of ruling the Underworld became stale, Michael began to embrace the feelings of dejection, while simultaneously dreading the thought of an eternity alone.

That’s why, no matter the outcome of tonight, Michael would at least have something to add a little color to his black-and-white world. At the very least, the child would provide much-needed entertainment in the Underworld. She seems quite creative, which could potentially lend itself to some new and innovative torture methods. But, that would almost be a non-starter, considering the whole reason that she’s here, the whole reason Michael implemented this plan in the first place, is to get to you.

You, who managed to somehow win over demons disguised as beggars that loitered outside of the bookstore you worked for. You, who was constantly coming up with your own ideas for stories, creating and erasing entire worlds within your mind (a power far more powerful than any regular magic, Michael believes). You, who had somehow managed to vex and enchant him, without ever having spoken a word to him. He had seen you on one of his visits up Above, talking to a beggar demon as if they were your equal, offering food and shelter to their grotesque form. From then on, he knew that he had to have you, and from that, a plan was born. The Labyrinth, which he had subtly placed in every single one of your dreams for months now, was impossible to run through. You would inevitably lose. And when that happens, he’s prepared to accept your frantic offer where you exchange yourself for the child. He is, after all, a benevolent ruler.

“Mr. Michael?” Julia questions, breaking Michael out of his pondering.

Michael hums, deciding that he won’t lecture her on the importance of referring to rulers by their titles. “Yes, little one?”

“Do you have juice here? ‘M thirsty.”

“Abaddon!” Michael calls, the demon appearing in a puff of smoke. “Get our guest some refreshments.”

The demon turns to do Michael’s bidding, shocked when Julia grabs their clawed hand and skips along with them. “I really like your spiky horns,” she says.

Michael looks up at the clock on the wall, noting that only nine hours remain for you to reach the center of the Labyrinth and rescue the child. Perfect. He’s not one to get too cocky (yes he is), but these are odds he’s willing to take.

//

Tag List (send me a message if you want to be on this!): @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @ajokeformur-ray @babyloutattoo89 @bloodcoatedeclipse @threeminutesoflife @annikathebananana @wth-trippy @thatonehumanbeing05 @dumybitch

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 54

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,305

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Allies and Foes

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the cooled sheets and pillow telling you that Negan had been gone for a while. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost 9am, and you lazily stretched underneath the red satin, enjoying the ability to sleep in. 

You vaguely remembered Negan waking you up with a kiss to the neck earlier, when it was still mostly dark in the room. He had murmured something about a meeting with his Saviors, and you had responded by turning over and grumbling for him to let you go back to sleep. The last thing you remembered was his low chuckle, and then you were out again. 

Reluctantly rolling out of the ridiculously luxuriant bed (seriously, where did he find such a soft mattress during the apocalypse?!), you started getting dressed. Unfortunately, you only had the outfit from yesterday, which wasn’t the cleanest after being out in the woods, but it would have to do until you returned to your own room. 

The intrusive thought hit that maybe you could leave a few items of clothing here, so that you had more morning-after options for next time. You quickly dashed the thought, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Sure, you had now spent the past three nights in a row with Negan, and two of those nights had been in his bed, but that didn’t seem like long enough to start moving in items. Just the thought of Negan doing something so domestic as allowing you to start taking over his armoire and bathroom drawers made you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. 

Though, doing so would mean more events like last night could easily occur, since you wouldn’t have to keep running back to your room for more clothes or other belongings. Your mind flashed to the shower, and what the two of you had done in it the previous evening. How you had gone to your knees and proceeded to blow both his cock and his mind. He had been particularly vocal, his sharp grunts and loud moans echoing off the tiles as he ran shaky fingers through your hair and made you feel like the most seductive woman on the planet.  

Still smiling at the memory, you finished zipping up the boots, grabbed Ricardo, and headed out of the bedroom and across his office to the door. Creaking it open a few inches, you peeked down the hall. Seeing that it was clear, you quietly exited the room, shut the door behind you, and speed-walked down the halls and to the stairwell needed to get back to your room. Letting out a little puff of relief when you made it to your own floor, you slowed down the pace a bit, no longer needing to scurry like a roach caught in the kitchen when the lights turned on. Honestly, the fact that you had yet to run into a Savior or wife while making the morning-after trek to and from Negan’s room was really damn lucky and-

“Hey!”

The sound of a voice just as your hand was reaching out for the door knob to your room caused you to jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, you saw none other than Maria at the opposite end of the hall, waving her hand in greeting as she came towards you. 

Crap. Couldn’t the universe have at least let you put on clean underwear first? 

Much as you didn’t want to interact with someone at the moment, you couldn’t help but recall the last time Maria had tried to speak with you, in this very hall. It had been after Negan confronted you about the pregnancy test, and you had completely ignored her and rushed past without a word. At the time you had been too emotional to care, but now you knew that she was owed an apology, not to mention the fact that you hadn’t really chatted or hung out with her since the night out at the picnic table. Doing the mental math, you realized that late night conversation had to have been a little over two weeks ago. Yea, you had been a shit friend to Maria lately, and it was totally deserved karma to have her pop up when you weren’t really prepared for social interaction. Well, you would just have to get over it. She didn’t deserve to keep being pushed aside, and you wouldn’t do so to her again. 

Pasting on a grin, you opened the door and gestured for her to come inside. She preceded you into the room and settled on the rickety little bed. You tried to nonchalantly lean Ricardo against the wall, in hopes she wouldn’t ask why you were walking around with a weapon so early in the morning. Thankfully, she seemed too busy scanning the meager surroundings to notice. It had been a while since she was in your space, and you tried to take in the tiny room from her perspective, wondering if she found it lacking. You weren’t sure what the wives’ rooms looked like, since apparently Negan wasn’t keen on them having visitors up there, but if it was anything like the fancy clothes they wore then it was sure to be much nicer than your own room. 

Just thinking about them made a lump of discomfort form in your stomach. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten about the fact that the man you were developing feelings for had a harem of women he called his wives, but it had been a lot easier to push them to the back of your mind when one wasn’t sitting in front of you. 

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, especially when you both were smart enough to know it was a shallow distraction, you dove right in.

“I want to apologize for the other day, when I ignored you. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”

She gave a tiny smile, and you immediately knew that she wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. This was Maria, and she was one of the most forgiving and patient people you had known since the apocalypse began. The fact that she was still willing to even deal with your fickle ass, especially after your last couple of interactions, was proof enough of that. 

“It’s alright,” she replied. “You looked pretty frazzled anyways. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know about everything, but things are alright,” you mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear the words.

You started picking at a stray thread on the grey cotton sheets, unable to help but compare them to the luxury of Negan’s satiny red ones. Ugh, why didn’t you just stay in his bed all morning, instead. You could’ve enjoyed physical comfort and social isolation there. 

Able to feel the weight of Maria’s gaze, you lifted your head to look at her. As expected, she was watching you closely, the slightest ghost of a smile tipping one corner of her mouth. “What?” you asked, not rudely, but perhaps a bit impatiently. She looked like she knew a secret that you didn’t, and you wanted her to just spit it out already.

“You spent the night with him,” she stated in a gentle tone, and when you jerked in surprise and opened your mouth to say....well, you had no clue what you were going to say, but thankfully she cut you off. “Which means,” she continued with a raised palm, a silent gesture for you to not get defensive just yet, “that considering how negatively you viewed his multiple wives situation, you must also know he stopped sleeping with them.”

Mouth still hanging open, you stared her down for a few seconds before snapping it shut. Making a “go on” gesture with your hand, you waited for her to continue with wherever it was she wanted this conversation to lead. 

She then told you how she had suspected for a while now that the reason why Negan stopped coming to see the wives was due to his interactions with you. Her theory had been confirmed after your late night chat out at the picnic table when you admitted to being in his bedroom, somewhere none of the wives had been allowed to enter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, clutching the bedsheet so tightly your fingers were about to go numb. 

“Honestly? Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth, and I knew you’d have completely shut down at the very thought of it. You still wanted to see him as a monster, so I figured I’d just wait and see how things played out. See if he’d keep allowing you to get close to him, or if one of you would get spooked and run, so to speak.”

You mulled this over. Was she right? If she had told you a couple weeks ago that he had suddenly stopped sleeping with all of the wives, would you have believed it? Doubtful. And even if you had, never in a million years would you have listened to her theory that his drastic change in behavior was because of the few interactions he’d had with you up until that point. 

Much as you hated to admit, Maria had been right to keep quiet about it. Though you did wonder how she thought you had found out. Did she assume Negan had told you? Or maybe she was aware of how Amber had been using Trixie, and had come to the correct conclusion on her own. Maria was intelligent, so there was a good chance she knew more about the goings on around here than people gave her credit for. You wanted to ask how much she knew, but also didn’t want to risk outing Trixie, since she had told you that information in strict confidence.

Instead, you asked, “So now that you think I am ready to hear the truth, is there anything else I should know? Are the others coming up with a plan of how to quietly dispose of me, so that Negan will pay attention to them again?” 

You said it jokingly, but were honestly curious to know how they felt about these recent changes. Amber obviously wasn’t your biggest fan, but what about the others? Did they see you as a threat to the luxuries they enjoyed here? Honestly, if the roles were switched, and they were the ones threatening whatever you had going on with Negan, you’d be tempted to sharpen mini-Ricardo shanks and take them out one by one. Your subconscious whole-heartedly agreed, giving a battle cry and stabbing at the air, as if taking out imaginary opponents, while your brain sighed and rolled its eyes.

“Well actually, we did recently have a group conversation about you.” 

She said this calmly, but it still made your eyes go wide as you exclaimed, “You what?”

“It was a few days ago. Amber had been throwing a real tantrum after she tried to take Negan a dinner tray, and found him already in his office eating with you.”

Oh yea, you remembered that event, vividly. It had been about a week ago, before his last supply run. It was the evening he had confessed to you about his dead wife, and then Amber interrupted by knocking on the door with a tray. It had been apparent she wasn’t happy to see you there, nor to be sent away by Negan, so you weren’t surprised to hear she hadn’t handled it well afterwards. 

Nodding for her to go on, Maria continued. “We let her vent about it for a couple days, since I think we were all hoping she’d eventually let it go the way she does most things that get under her skin. But she was like a dog with a bone this time, and kept running her mouth to all of us about how you were stealing Negan from us, and that if we continued to just sit back and let this happen, we were putting our status here in jeopardy.”

Sweat broke out on the back of your neck at the possibilities of where this story could be going. Just the thought of the wives sitting around talking about you as a potential threat or enemy made your stomach flop, but you stayed quiet and let Maria finish.

“She was really trying to get the rest of us riled up, and then one evening she started telling us all that we better be prepared to start scrubbing toilets for points, since we were willing to just let him toss us to the curb. That was when Sherry finally stepped in and put her foot down.”

“Wait, Sherry?!” you blurted, absolutely shook at this turn of events. 

Maria nodded. “Yep. She told Amber that all she was doing was starting unnecessary drama, and that Negan had never given any indication that we would lose our privileges or have to start working for points just because he isn’t fucking us every night. Amber tried to argue at first, but Sherry held her ground. Told her that she’d gladly go get Negan, so Amber could tell him her concerns face-to-face, rather than continuing to make assumptions behind his back. That shut her up real quick, and she stormed into her bedroom and stayed there the rest of the night. I haven’t heard her say anything else about it since. She’s still sulking around a bit, but at least she’s been quiet.”

Your brain was struggling to take all this in, especially the part where Sherry had not only stood up for you, but done so against another wife. Crap, now you really felt like an asshole for being jealous and internally snarky towards her that day in the kitchen, when she took you to the medic after you cut your finger. 

“Do you actually think she’ll let it go now?” You had a feeling that you already knew the answer, but couldn’t help asking.

Maria sighed. “I can’t say for sure, but Amber doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with not being doted on. I don’t think she has any particularly strong feelings towards Negan, but she enjoys the status of being a wife. It can be a bit of a power trip, to catch the attention of a man like him, even if for shallow reasons.”

“Yea, don’t I know it,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Maria raised an eyebrow, having obviously heard. “I don’t think I’d classify his attention towards you as shallow.” 

Giving a huffed laugh and shrug, you tried to play it off. “Yea, well, is anything about Negan easy enough to classify?”

“Probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s part of what makes him so intriguing, right?”

“If by intriguing you mean confounding as hell, then sure.” 

Despite your annoyed tone, you were genuinely smiling at this point. Part of you wondered if this should feel more weird than it did, talking to a woman who was Negan’s “wife”, and had most likely slept with him, about whatever it was he had going on with you. 

As if reading your thoughts, Maria’s face became more serious. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel like you can’t still talk to me, or see me as a friend.”

If you were being totally honest with yourself, the whole situation didn’t make you feel 100% comfortable, but you were pretty sure that was because of the possessive part of you that wanted him all to yourself. But was that a realistic emotion to even have, with a man like him? Could you be okay with him continuing to publicly have “wives”, even if he wasn’t sleeping with them? And what if he later decided to go back to them? It’s not as if he knew that you were aware he wasn’t sleeping with them at the moment. 

Mentally shoving those questions into the padlocked box with the other unanswered questions, you honestly replied, “I’m not totally sure how I feel about all of this yet, but I definitely still see you as a friend, so no worries on that front.” 

“I’m glad,” Maria said with a nod. “And in case I didn’t make it obvious, no part of me will be upset if Negan decides he doesn’t want to give us the same privileges anymore. Well, so long as you promise to give me a spot in the kitchen, so I’m not stuck scrubbing toilets beside Amber.” 

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, glad that the air had been cleared between the two of you, and that she wasn’t harboring ill feelings towards you for taking Negan’s attention away from her and the other wives. Part of you even wondered if she had spent much alone time with him, since she hadn’t been his wife for very long when he stopped sleeping with them, but some things were just better left unknown. Besides, it’s not like he slept cuddled against any of them all night afterwards, or let them in his bed...or his shower.

Your subconscious was feeling awfully smug at that thought, nose in the air as it strutted around with a superiority complex. Meanwhile, your brain was pointing at the padlocked box of questions in annoyance, a motion which the subconscious purposely ignored. 

You chatted with Maria for a bit longer, the conversation much lighter and more frivolous than before. It felt good to just hang out and discuss random topics, the way you had when the two of you were surviving for weeks out in the woods together. You might’ve each taken very different paths when it came to Sanctuary life, but it was a relief to know that the connection you had formed prior to coming here surpassed those differences. You also appreciated that she didn’t push for more information about you and Negan, and didn't even mention his name again. 

When she left a little while later, a glance at your watch showed that dinner prep was in about two hours. Grateful for the chunk of alone time, you finally changed into fresh clothes and propped yourself up in bed with the copy of Harry Potter. You smiled when removing the little piece of paper you had torn from your notebook as a bookmark. While this one was blank, there was a second little piece of paper that was bookmarking a place closer to the beginning of the book. This piece of paper you had marked in pencil with the letter N, and it held the spot where Negan had stopped reading yesterday morning. You had stuck it in there after he left your room, the book having been face down on your side table where he placed it when you woke up and distracted him. Hoping that he’d return to reading it, especially if you kept his place, you couldn’t help but mark his spot. 

Just the thought of his possible reactions to some of the plot twists had you smiling, at the same time as a devious thought crept into your head. If you made sure to get him hooked on the first book, he’d definitely have to find copies of the other ones in the series to share with you, right? There’s no way someone can read the first book and not need to also read the rest.

Both subconscious and brain nodded in agreement at this theory before cuddling up on either side of you, so that they could also see the opened book. Diving back into the story with a contented sigh, you immersed yourself in the magical world, not planning a return to reality and all the awaiting unanswered questions until it was time to head downstairs for dinner prep.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Festive Fuelstop

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: You, Mando and the Child end up in a small town and get pulled into their traditions.

A/n: Happy Holidays, my loves!

You walked out of the Crest and took a breath of fresh air after a week of being trapped inside the flying metal. Despite having to make an emergency landing, you were thankful that the fuel line had started leaking just to stretch your legs. You and Mando had landed on the outskirts of a charming village where the mechanic actually refused the credits that the Mandalorian offered to repair his ship.

“Oh, golly. I can’t take payment now - I haven’t made any repairs.” The man chuckled heartily and whistled for his best workers to get on the job. The repairman then focused back on the new arrivals. “Why don’t you hold on to those credits and take your family down to the markets in the meantime?”

Mando appeared to have frozen so you leaned forward and pulled his hand back, flashing a smile to the kind man.

“The markets sound wonderful - could you point us in the right direction?”

You were given instruction to follow the wooden path down the hill until you reached a clearing into the central part of town which you, Mando and the Child followed.

When you reached the bottom, the townsfolk were in a buzz carrying boxes of shiny strings and coloured balls from one part of town to the next. Homes were decorated with lights strewn across the fences and roofs, some even had a green wreaths on the front door. Adults met up with one another with a grin as they walked in the same direction while children chased each other in tow.

You and Mando exchanged curious glances. This wasn’t something either of you had come across and your confused expression caught the attention of a passerby. The man stopped before the two of you and pointed.

“Visitors?” He guessed with a smile on his face that highlighted a hidden dimple.

You returned the smile and Mando nodded, “Our ship is being repaired uphill.”

“Well then it’s in safe hands. Please, feel free to join us in the Square while you wait.” The man invited and then walked away in the same direction as everyone else. It seemed like the whole town was headed that way.

Folding your arms, you turned to the bounty hunter, “Is it bad that I want to know what’s happening in the Square?”

“We have to keep moving.” Mando reminded as he looked around the buildings. “Maybe find a diner of some sort.”

You watched as more of the townsfolk left their homes and bit your lower lip as you thought - then you heard the child croon and idea came to mind.

“If everyone’s in the same place then none of their lodgings, food or otherwise, will be open. We’ll have a better chance to blend in alongside everyone else while seeing what has everyone so excited.” You said. “And the kid might never experience this again.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side when he heard you.

“Are those reasons for the kid or for you?”

You shot him a side-eye and shook your head. Without hearing his argument against the plan, you followed the crowd and - in a few minutes - his beskar arm braces were bumping beside you.

It was a short walk to the heart of the town where a large green tree gleaming with lights and decoration sat in the middle. Your jaw dropped, eyes mesmerised with the sight that you almost knocked into the woman in front of you had it not been for Mando pulling you back. As the last few people joined, you realised that it was getting too close-for-comfort for the child so you moved to a more open space a little further from the festivities.

You returned to staring in awe at the magnificence of the tree and couldn’t help but smile, “What are they celebrating?” You wondered just as a little boy zoomed past with his friends, hearing your question. He stopped before you and Mando and placed his hands on his hips.

“You must be travellers! Tonight begins the First Ice of Holly Day. We gather around the tree just before the snow begins to fall - which should be starting soon!” The young boy explained and then ran off leaving the baby to lean over his cradle and coo.

Soon? You looked up to the skies and noticed that they had now been filled with frosty grey clouds. The sun began to fade away which illuminated the lights around the entire town making everything glow. As it darkened just a touch more excitable voices began talking quickly, most of it inaudible. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t realised Mando tensing up beside you until you turned to him. He looked like he was ready to be jumped. You opened you mouth to chide him when there was a joyful cry from the far side of the tree.

“Look - look! It’s snowing! Holly Day has begun!”

You , Mando and the Child looked up once more and, sure enough, small snowflakes descended upon the happy town. A chilled breeze set in and you remembered that you weren’t properly clothed from when you exited the ship a while ago. You were about to suggest finding some coats when Mando turned his head toward the clearing.

“We should head back. I don’t want to be caught in a snow storm at the base of a hill.” He told you. You glanced at the baby trying to catch the snow in his mouth and sighed. Mando was right.

You shivered slightly, dusting the snow from your shoulders. “Point made. But before we head back, I need to stop at a vegetable stall.”

“Why?”

You pursed your lips and squinted at the green womp rat in the cradle, “Because somebody keeps ‘force-flinging’ the celonslay into the refresher.” you leaned down to the baby and used the tip of your index finger to lightly press on his button nose. “Vegetables are what’s going to make you big and strong.”

You straightened back up and noticed the crowd the beginning to disperse as you looked around them to find some place that sold healthy greens.

Mando pointed over your shoulder quietly and you followed his hand to where a row of merchants stood with their goods just past the tree. You thanked him and requested that he and child stay put until you returned. The bounty hunter didn’t argue and so you ventured off to the markets. As you passed the tree you smiled once more at its beauty. A part of you wondered if Mando would oppose to having a small one in the ship. But then you thought better of it because if Mando didn’t oppose then the kid might tear it apart or worse, jam it into the refresher.

You passed the first stall which happened to be filled with florals and ‘Holly Berry Seed Pots’ and over to the second one where rows and rows of fruits and vegetables sat. Scanning the items, you spotted the celonslay and decided against purchasing it again. The Child clearly didn’t like it. As you browsed, a head popped up from behind the stall - it belonged to the man you first met upon reaching the town.

“It’s you.” You realised.

He chuckled and quirked a brow. “Twice in one day? I’m beginning to think that you’re following me.” He teased lightly and tapped his hands on the wooden counter top. “I’m glad you decided to come to the Square.”

The man inquired about how you felt about experiencing the First Ice and you told him the truth of how you adored the way it was celebrated. You both then returned to the task at hand and you asked for his suggestion on a vegetable that a baby would enjoy.

“Children are tricky to pick for.” The Merchant hummed as he looked over the available selection. “But I do have some gimer canes. If the kid is teething, he can chew on this to get important nutrients with a sweet taste. He might even do a happy dance.”

Your eyes lit up along with your smile, “That’s perfect, I’ll take four.”

“Gimer canes are fairly rare so...”

“I’ll pay you double.” You offered instantly, not bothering to discuss it with the Mandalorian.

You expected the Merchant to take the credits right away but he laughed admirably at you. “I was actually hoping that you’d come with me to the Holly Seed Planting tomorrow instead.”

As much as you wanted to stay, you and Mando were due to leave the planet in under an hour. Your shoulders visibly slackened and the Merchant seemed to have understood. He reached beneath the counter and lifted up a paper bag, handing it over to you.

“Here, consider it an early Holly Day gift.”

Slightly confused, you looked inside and saw four pieces of the rare cane. You didn’t know how to express thanks besides repeating the word in the hopes that it would be enough.

“It’s okay, really.” The Merchant said softly. “Times are strange, we may meet again.”

You flashed a smile and thanked him once more before turning to leave.

You returned to the Child and the Mandalorian shortly after and noticed the mechanic of your ship walking away from the beskar-plated man with a spring in his step and humming a tune.

“Was that...?”

“It was.” Mando sighed. “Apparently, the repairs won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon because the mechanic doesn’t want to miss out on the ‘festivities’.”

You couldn’t really blame the creature for halting work and you looked over at the hill pathway that led to the ship. “Old fashioned camp out in the broken cargo hold?” You suggested.

“It’s getting dark and you’re exhausted. We’ll stay in town until the repairs are complete.”

This meant that you could repay the Merchant in full.

“Why are you smiling?”

You wiped the escaped emotion from your face and cleared your throat. Balancing the bag against your hip, you looked around the well-lit town, deflecting the question, “I’m sure that there’s a good lodging around here.”

And you were right, a short walk down the road landed the three of you at a comfortable inn for travellers. But as luck would have it, finding a decent sized room in the towns busiest time proved to be difficult and so, you, Mando and cradled baby were placed in a smaller, single bed compartment with extra blankets to compensate. While it was quaint, a part of you wished that you were back on the Razor Crest.

As Mando settled into the temporary sleeping quarters by checking the perimeters, you helped the kid out of his cot and onto the soft mattress. This hadn’t been the first time that there was only one bed between three individuals so you and Mando decided to take one side each to make sure that you were both well rested. And, to be involved, the Child would walk across the surface before sitting on the side that he wanted Mando to be. 

The kid cooed and then smacked his lips which reminded you that he had not been fed the since lunch. You walked over to the table by the door and dug into the paper bag retrieving a stick of the gimer cane before carefully handing it to the baby to taste.

Mando joined your side as the pair of watched the child chew on the cane with a happy squeal.

“He likes it.” Mando noted, relatively surprised. Your mouth hung open as you watched the green womp rat do a little seated ‘happy dance’.

The Merchant was right.

Speaking of the man, you remembered to tell the bounty hunter of your plans the next day, explaining - once again - that it would be a good way for the kid to learn and enjoy other customs. His sigh told you that he wasn’t thrilled but, ultimately, he resigned. “Fine but we’re leaving the moment the Crest is fixed.”

You tried to contain your smile but it slipped out which led to the Mandalorian shaking his head and heading for the bed to get some decent rest. He picked up the child and moved him to the centre before laying down on the sheets. As you watched the baby find a comfortable sleeping position against his chosen-father, you realised that you were fairly exhausted from the day. You took up the blankets that the lodging provided and laid along the empty bed space, covering yourself and the kid just before falling asleep to the burning candlelight.

When you woke to birdsong, you found that the child had switched sleeping allegiances and was now snuggled in your arms. Mando stepped out of the refresher and helped you to get ready for the day by removing the womp rat from your hold which led the child waking up with a small wail until Mando pacified him with a gimer cane.

Once all affairs were in order, you paid the lodging owner in full and left for the Merchant’s stall where the man had just farewelled a customer.

“Can I have four more gimer canes?” You wondered and the moment the Merchant saw you, he abandoned his job, rushing to the front with a smile.

“You- you’re still here.”

Nodding, you gestured to where Mando stood with the child, “Our repairs will be done this afternoon which means we can go to the Holly Seed Planting.”

The Merchant nodded and boldly took your hands when he spoke. “The Planting is in a few hours but there are things we can do before that!” He looked over your shoulder to Mando, “Tell me, friend. Have you ever gone sledding through fields of freshly lain snow under trees of light?”

Mando stared back through his visor, “Only to capture my bounty.”

The Merchant didn’t know what to make of the statement and you chuckled to lighten the air, “Sledding sounds wonderful!”

And that’s what you did. The Merchant took the three of you to a sledding field and you almost forgot about your mission to find the child’s people. Mando took the green womp rat for a ride after caving to his pleading coos while you rode with the Merchant. 

Once the snow-filled fun had run its course, you all ventured back into town for a hot meal at the local cantina and a short rest before learning that enough time had passed for the Holly Seed Planting. You and Mando followed the Merchant over to the large tree where, at its base, several plots were dug in long rows along the white frost.

“What’s so special about this event?” You asked as curiosity enveloped when you noticed people gathering in pairs.

The Merchant took your hand and pointed across, “Holly Seeds are special, they bloom fast with emotion and identical where love is pure. It’s a rare sight to see but it doesn’t make it any less fun to plant.”

“What happens to these seeds after?”

“We nurture them through the year, their roots and leaves merge until they form the Town’s next tree for Holly Day.”

If you had left the day before, you never would have learnt about something so amazing.

“Oh - I think it’s starting. Let’s go get a seed.” The Merchant told you excitably.

Mando made no effort to move quickly, instead he held onto the child and stepped back. “I think the kid and I will wait this one out.”

A part of you wished he wouldn’t remove himself but once the Mandalorian made up his mind, he often stuck to it. You focused on the Merchant once more, painting the snow with your footprints until you both collected a Holly Seed Pot each and kneeled by two empty plots.

“Okay,” The Merchant said, nestling a little closer, “so all we need to do is hold these next to each other and if everything is right, they’ll bloom.”

You held out your pot until it clinked against the Merchant’s. Almost instantly, a bud peered through the Merchant’s soil and it quickly grew into a stem ... then leaves sprang forth ... and finally, a white-petaled flower emerged, tilting forward like a bell.

You looked down at the pot in your hands and there was nothing - not even a hint of green.

You gave a dry chuckle to hide the way your heart sank, “I can’t imagine it’s good news if nothing happens, right?”

The Merchant shook his head to not worry you but you could see in his eyes that this came as a surprise to him too. Clearing your throat, you flashed him a smile and looked around the place where bursts of colourful flowers came to life. “So, what happens next?”

“Usually, we walk around and see if there are identical flowers before we plant them into the ground but...”

You noticed his eyes flicker to the various pots, clearly trying to spot his match, and placed an gentle hand over his shoulder.

“Go ahead, it’s okay.” You told him as he once told you. The Merchant hesitated briefly until you repeated yourself.

You got to your feet as he thanked you and then you watched him walk through the crowd. Glancing at your sad-looking pot, you remembered something and looked up to find your travel associates.

No green or beskar could be seen. You did, however, see the mechanic once again. He had just arrived and was talking to a friend about how he had just finished a job.

The Razor Crest must have been ready. You intended to give a farewell to the Merchant but when you saw him standing by a young woman with an identical white flower, you decided against it.

Let him have this moment. Taking the plant, you decided to blend out of the crowd and back to somewhere familiar.

—

The Merchant was kind but Mando felt his dislike for the local grow every time you were present. He blamed the whimsical nature of the town but Mando felt something envious surge in him whenever you talked about the Merchant with a smile. Then he had to spend the day watching the pair of you laugh and joke and... hold hands - Mando seriously feared that you may have been falling in love. When the Seed Planting came around, he tried to ignore the way you and the Merchant had grown fond of one other so he stood to the back of the crowd. He was blending in quite well until a sweet old lady spotted him and the child and handed him a Holly Seed Pot of his own. He tried to give it back but the woman ignored him and moved on. The Child cooed and Mando turned to see you kneeling by the snow and holding your pot against that of the Merchants.

He heard the baby croon and attempt to speak.

“I know buddy...”

The child started tapping his hands over Mando’s gloves and pulled his attention from the Jedi over to the pot in his hands.

A red flower had sprouted almost instantly while was distracted. The edges of the petals ran gold like ink.

His mind flew to what the Merchant had said about quick blooming flowers and the Mandalorian felt his heart race.

‘Fast with emotion.’ He had said.

Turning around, Mando made a quick getaway just as the townsfolk gathered to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ around the flowers. Thinking fast, he decided to head back to the ship, almost bursting into a sprint. The child had fallen asleep during the trip so when Mando finally got to the Crest, he laid the infant down before getting to work. He took the pot plant over to the carbonite chamber and shut it inside with a hiss.

—

The walk uphill was long and exhausting. There were multiple times when you considered throwing the pot behind you but something always made you rethink and forget the option. When you finally reached the Crest, you spotted Mando fiddling by the carbonite chamber and the kid asleep in his cradle. You dumped the pot on the side bench and headed past the Mandalorian for the cockpit.

“I’m ready to get out of here.” You said, climbing up the ladder. Without missing a beat, you sat in the pilots seat and prepared for take off, closing the doors of the cargo bay. You were a fast flyer so you had the ship up in lightspeed in no time only dropping out when you were several systems away. As you prepped the ship for autopilot, you heard the familiar armour behind you.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He said gently. “The Jedi Order and the Mandalorian Way don’t give much room for romance.”

You leaned forward and flicked on two switches. A disappointed sigh escaping over the console. “I know. Sometimes, I hope for a sign that will lead me down a different path - one where I don’t walk alone. But it’s always a fools hope.”

The Crest’s engine sputtered, shaking loose a pipe above your head which made you frown when it bumped your head. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Can you get me something to fix this?”

The beskar helmet nodded and Mando turned down the narrow corridor. He went down the stairs to grab a wrench from his tools cabinet when a flicker of gold caught his attention.

Sitting on the bench was your Holly Seed Pot, a green stem had rose from the mud, blooming a red Holly Flower with gold trimming - just like his.

Masterlist here

[weebswrites]

First i love your writing! Second, i was wondering if you could do one with MC bingeing horror movies the brothers?

Movie Night with The Demon Bros: Horror Edition

You’re sitting down in the HoL theater with the bros. Each of you picked a movie, and your plan was to binge them all in order. Only stopping between them to go to the bathroom or get more snacks. This was your idea, which is honestly the only way all seven brothers would be in the same room together. However, after a few movies, the brothers start falling asleep, until it’s just you and...

Lucifer

• He’s very proud of himself for staying up the latest, despite usually going to bed the earliest

• “I’m proud of you, Lucifer” you tease, elbowing him as you fought off a yawn

• He chuckles, “Oho, someone’s tired” he teased, “Should I carry you to bed?”

• “No! I’m gonna make it, we only have.. three.... movies left...” you trail off, falling asleep mid sentence

• Lucifer admired the way your eyes closed as you tried to stay awake, and smiled softly at the sight

• A few moments later you bolted awake, “I’m up!” you said, and Lucifer slapped a hand over your mouth

• “Shhh, don’t wake up my brothers”

• “Oh? And why’s that” you tease him, “Could it be that the Lucifer likes spending time with me?”

• “Yes, in fact I do” he said matter of factly

• “Well I like spending time with you too” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek

• But he turned his head towards you at the same time, and your lips collided

• But neither of you moved away, and despite your heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest you kissed him again

• He kissed you back, and before you knew it he was carrying you to his room

Mammon

• “Hah! The rest of them are asleep. Looks like it’s just me and you now, human!” he whispered, clearly very proud of himself for staying awake the longest

• “Should we watch your movie next then? Since no one’s here to stop us” you suggest, hoping to make the rest of Mammon’s night as memorable as possible

• “Hell yeah, it’s so good. You’re gonna love it”

• “Since it’s your favorite I know I will” you say, smiling at him

• A blush crosses his face and he turns back to look at the screen

• That blush only deepens when he feels your hand intertwine with his in his lap

• “Mammon~” you whisper, leaning closer to him

• He turns to look at you, your faces just inches apart, “Y-yeah?” he responded

• You’d never heard him stutter before, and you smiled a bit to yourself before leaning in and lightly connecting your lips

• You felt his shock, but he quickly loosened up and kissed you back

• “I can’t believe I just kissed a human” he teased, only getting another kiss in result

Leviathan

• The two of you were sitting in the front row together, so you didn’t notice everyone else was asleep until there was a jumpscare and you were the only ones to react

• “Should we go back to your room and keep watching? That way we won’t wake them up” you whisper, pausing the movie

• “Probably yeah, good thinking” Levi whispered, and the two of you chatted as you walked back to his room

• You walked in and something came over you. Movies always made you sentimental for some reason, and your feelings for Levi had been getting stronger and stronger recently

• A wave of confidence washed over you, and you walked over to where Levi was standing

• “Levi” you said, standing next to him, and he turned to face you

• You didn’t stop to think, acting completely on instinct as you closed the space between your lips

• You pulled away quickly, looking at the surprised expression on his face. But it only lasted a second before he was grabbing you by the waist and pulling you aginst him

• “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to do that”

Satan

• “Hey” you whispered, “they’re asleep”

• He turned to look around at the rest of his brothers, and laughed quietly at the sight

• “Want to go to your room and hang out?” you asked, hoping more than anything that he’d say yes. Your feelings for the Avatar of Wrath had been growing and you’d do anything to spend time with him

• “Yeah, there's a book I’ve been meaning to show you. Lets go” he said, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room

• Your heart lept in your chest at the contact, even though holding hands was typical for you and your best friend

• You got back to his room and admired the way his body looked as he reached up and got a book down from a higher shelf

• “Satan” you said, suddenly not able to hold back anymore as you ran over to him, grabbing him gently yet forcefully and connecting your lips

• He dropped the book, and let’s just say you spent the night in his room for the next few nights

Asmodeus

• You were clinging to Asmo in fear, as horror movies weren’t you favorite genre, to say the least

• Every jump scare brought you closer to him, and by the end of the second movie you decided just to sit in his lap and let him hold you

• You rested your head against his chest, and memorized the way his heart was beating

• As the third movie played you would periodically look up at Asmo, admiring his features and the heavenly way he smelled

• One time when you were looking up at him, though, he looked back, your lips centimeters apart

• Red covered your face, and Asmo winked at you before connecting your lips in a quick kiss

• He went right back to watching the movie, and smiled to himself as he glanced down at you and saw how red your face was

Bonus: You fall asleep in his arms, and he carries you back to his room where you wake up the next morning, warm in his arms

Beelzebub

• Beel was a bit hesitant about the whole horror movie thing to begin with, so when the two of you were the only ones left awake you agreed to head to the kitchen and hang out there instead

• You were talking late into the night, and before you knew it it was almost the time Lucifer normally woke up (disgustingly early, change my mind)

• “Maybe we should head to bed, I don’t want to explain to Lucifer what we’re still doing up” you suggested

• “Maybe. If you want you could spend the night in my room” he offered, and you swore your heart stopped at his offer

• “Yeah, I’d like that” you responded, and you don’t know what took over you but the next thing you knew you were grabbing his hand and walking with him to his room

• You fell asleep in his arms, and it was truly the most relaxed and at home you’d felt in your life

Belphegor

• He was asleep most of the night because he was only there because you begged him, so when everyone else fell asleep you used your authority as his best friend and nudged him awake

• “Belphie, everyone else is asleep and I’m bored”

• “Then sleep like the rest of us” he whispered

• “But I want to hang out” you poked him, something you knew would get a reaction from him

• And it did, he sat up properly and looked at you, “If we go to my room and fall asleep together will that tide you over tomorrow, when it isn’t the middle of the night” he asked, secretly happy this came up so he had an excuse to cuddle overnight with you

• You blushed and smiled cheekily, “Yes, yes it will”

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

A/N: this kinda turned into getting together with them after a movie night, which I didn’t realize until the middle of Satan’s whoops. I tried to reel it back in so my bad for getting off topic lol. Anyways hope you enjoy!