#I’ve never really seen my resemblance to him before

[herawell]

.

[hellfirenacht]

Candygram

Summary: It's Valentine's day and you shoot your shot with Eddie by sending him a Candygram.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fluff, sfw

4.8k Words Master List

“Just do it.”  Robin said, following your line of sight to the booth in the corner of the Hawkins cafeteria. It was a simple table with a red cloth thrown over it and a handmade banner that read ‘CANDYGRAMS $1’ and was decorated with tacky hearts. 

Every time you glanced over at the booth, your heart would start pounding and your stomach would twist in knots. You had never considered yourself to be shy before, when you first moved to Hawkins a few years ago, Robin had joked that you didn’t need a welcome wagon because you had thrown yourself into band and had introduced yourself to everyone with ease. 

You had masked your anxiety over being the new kid with an overinflated sense of confidence and it had worked out really well for you until you caught feelings for the freak who sat next to you in remedial science. 

“I think... I would rather chug formaldehyde.” you said slowly, staring so hard at the offensively pink and red booth that Robin was sure it was going to catch flames. 

“Either go up there and buy a candygram or I’m going to do it for you.” Robin said. “If I have to hear you waffle about this for one more day I’m gonna rip my hair out.” 

“But if I send him one, then he might actually acknowledge me and realize I might have something resembling a feeling for him, and that’s just not really cool, you know? Goes against my chill and mysterious personality.” you said, leaning back on your chair with a cocky grin. 

“Last night I saw you and Steve cry over Bambi.” Robin deadpans. 

“Okay, so we were drunk and also shut up.” you snorted, rubbing your face. 

“How are you going to know if there’s anything there if you don’t even take the chance?” Robin scolds. “Come one, I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m surprised the whole school doesn’t know-”

“Again, cool and mysterious personality.” you tried again. 

“Plus I know he’s just as weird as you.” Robin continued, ignoring you. “I mean, last week I saw him get Jason Carver to back off one of the freshmen by pretending to exercise a demon out of him!”

You stared at Robin for a beat before thunking your head on the lunch table. “I’m going to marry him. Holy shit, he actually tried to expel the demon lurking in Carver?” You were laughing at the thought. 

During your first senior year and his second, Eddie Munson had caught your eye when you had the same lunch period. He was loud and energetic and so fucking weird you couldn’t help but to be drawn to him. Had your parents not forced you to stick with band, you would have considered joining Hellfire. Unfortunately even with this last go-round as a super senior, they still made you stick with it despite your senioritis reaching terminal levels.

You never had a good opportunity to talk to him, and the more time passed the harder it became to justify just randomly approaching him. This semester you finally had your opportunity when you’d been put in the same class and sitting next to each other no less. Still, the most you’d been able to say was “yeah, sure” when he’d asked you for a pencil once. 

Four weeks sitting next to Eddie, and you had barely spoken to him while noticing every little thing about him. He read a lot in class when he could get away with it, and doodled in his notebooks constantly, especially dice and dragons seemed to be the biggest theme. His school notebook wasn’t nearly as filled in as his Hellfire notebook, and he was always fidgeting in class. He also didn’t talk much, and at least once a week he’d end up falling asleep in class with his head in his hand. 

“There’s not gonna be a wedding if you can’t even talk to the guy.” Robin said. “He’s not even scary! Dustin comes in to talk to Steve all the time about Hellfire. He’s just a dork.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” your voice was a strangled laugh mixed with a groan. 

“You showed up the first day of band and introduced yourself to everyone, even if they weren’t in your section. What is the hold up with you talking to Eddie?” Robin pried. 

“Because back then, it didn’t matter.” You looked over at Robin, poking at your mystery meat. “When I first got here it didn’t matter if anyone liked me or not. I was only supposed to be in this school for a few months and then graduate. Then I didn’t. I could handle it if someone didn’t like me. None of you were really supposed to matter to me. No offense.”

Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem offended. “You were just making nice with the inmates until parole.” she joked and you nodded. 

“Yup, and then when I realized that I was going to have to actually have a full other year of school, that meant that I was going to have to care if I was ever gonna graduate.” You continued. “Luckily you saw through all my bullshit bravado and started dragging me to movie nights with you and Steve.” 

“Yeah yeah, we love friendship. So what does any of this have to do with Eddie?” Robin said, not needing you to explain the backstory that she had been present for. 

“It means that with Mr. Munson, I unfortunately, care so fucking much what he thinks of me.” you relented. “He’s the biggest freak in school, and the dorkiest loser, and if I try and talk to him and he’s not interested in talking back I won’t be able to take it. Robin, I will simply lay down and be dead for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not how that works, you can’t be dead for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Because if you’re dead then... you’re not alive”

“Schrodinger's corpse then. Alive and dead at the same time.” 

“Look, just send him the stupid candygram. The worst he can do is say no.” She stood up from the table and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up at the booth, jotting down Eddie’s name on a piece of paper and shoving a few quarters in the till with Robin looking smug. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one anyway, if anything he should be thrilled that someone wanted to send him one.”

“If this kills me, Steve’s in charge of the music at my funeral.” you sighed. 

---

Candygrams were being handed out and delivered through the week. You weren’t paying attention to what period they were supposed to be handed out, and so when two students in obnoxious heart shirts and fake wings burst into your science class with Eddie right next to you, you were about ready to throw yourself out a window. 

No one was surprised when Janet and Charlie were tossed a few candygrams, but everyone’s head whipped around when the red heart shaped lollipop and card was set on Eddie Munson’s desk. Eddie himself seemed more surprised than anyone. 

He had the lollipop in his mouth before he even opened the note attached and you were seconds away from bolting out the door. With any luck, maybe he didn’t know your name even after weeks of sitting next to each other. 

“Who’s it from, freak?” asked Patrick, the basketball jock who sat a few rows ahead. That earned a few snickers from the class. 

“It’s from your mom.” Eddie said without missing a beat and taking out the lollipop. “Tell her I say thanks.”

More laughter from the class as Patrick stood up as if ready to fight, but the teacher quickly told him to sit down. 

Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You felt a bit guilty that your candygram had kicked up a fuss, but at least Eddie didn’t out you as the person who sent it to him. In fact he wasn’t looking over at you at all. 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he flipped the card around, as if looking for something. All that was written was his name and “YOU’RE SWEET!” written in cheesy font and his name scribbled in your handwriting. 

And nothing else. 

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry at your stupidity. You’d been so jumbled and nervous that you’d forgotten to sign the damn thing. Robin was gonna have a field day with this one. 

Eddie kept fidgeting with the card through the rest of class, twisting it and bending it until it was as crumpled and torn as your heart felt. He shoved it in his pocket and didn’t even glance at you as the bell rang and he stood up and tossed the eaten lollipop stick in the trash. 

It’s not personal. You told yourself. He has no idea who sent it to him.

That’s when you had a horrible idea, so stupid it might actually work. 

---

“Explain how this is going to work again?” Robin asked. “You’re going to keep sending him lollipops this week until he notices you?” 

“Sort of.” you said, buying another candygram. “I’ll just send him a few joke ones as a feeler and if he responds positively I’ll come clean. If not, I keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.”

“Since when do you care about your dignity?” Robin sorted. 

“Since I caught feelings for the least dignified guy in school, I guess.” You knew it was stupid, you knew it was ridiculous, but you already messed up once so you might as well lean into it. You scribbled his name down, this time signing it with a satisfied giggle. “This is so dumb.”

Oh, but it was so worth it. You had bought it before school started, guaranteeing that it’d be delivered the same day, handing over a crisp dollar to Nancy Wheeler who had volunteered for the booth. If Eddie had been surprised the first time, he looked almost shocked now.

Eddie, sorry I forgot to sign the first one! This card said, once again not giving away any sign of who it was actually from. You saw his eye sparkle in amusement as he ate his lollipop, and this time the card was read over a few times before being carefully tucked into his dungeon master notebook. 

By the third day, the novelty of Eddie Munson getting candygrams had worn off with the rest of your class, but Eddie’s grin only grew wider each time. 

“Anything for me, Cupid?” Eddie asked as the student council members walked back in to hand out more lollipops. 

He whooped as another one was dropped on his desk and he snatched up the card quickly and you had to cover your face and bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at his excitement. 

Eddie, sorry I’m so bad at remembering to sign these things! I just get way too excited about sending them out that I lose focus. So anyway this card is actually from-

You had carefully spaced out your writing on the small rectangle of paper so that it left absolutely no room for you to sign your name. Eddie looked downright giddy as he read the note over and over. Seeing him so happy made your stomach burst into butterflies and even if he decided after this he wasn’t interested, this was enough. Knowing that he was smiling because of you was enough. 

Someone said your name and you looked up, surprised to see one of the student council members standing next to you and handing you a candygram. Your eyebrows shot up as you took it with a thanks and opened up the card. 

Who had sent one to you? You’d been so wrapped up in your little scheme you didn’t even consider that someone would try and send you one either. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you saw your name and a small drawing of what looked like an egg in a nest as the sender. Robin, of course. Probably making fun of you for sending candygrams to Eddie without signing either. 

You tucked the candygram in your own notebook safely and dared a glance over at Eddie again. You hadn’t expected for him to be looking back at you, and your heart jumped in your chest. He unwrapped his lollipop and lifted it slightly as if he was trying to toast. You held yours up as well to him, an off sense of camaraderie between two people who had their day temporarily disturbed for commercialized love. 

Thursday came around, Valentine's day proper, but they’d be doing one last day of candygrams on Friday as well. This was a fundraiser after all, and capitalism trumps any semblance of real sincerity. Well, you said that but that wasn’t exactly going to stop you from continuing your little plan. 

Today was the day you were going to pull out the big guns. You handed over a full $5 to have a carnation sent to Eddie, as well as a return to sender card to Robin for being a good friend. 

“Shouldn’t he be the one sending you a flower?” Nancy asked, handing you the card to write on. You wondered how Nancy had time for all of the extracurricular activities she had going on, working with the student council and the school newspaper. 

You just shrugged at the question, not realizing how wide you were smiling or how obviously warm your cheeks were. To anyone with two eyes, you were glowing and to anyone with one eye, you were phosphorescent. 

The disinterest that your classmates had from the last two rounds perked back up with a flower was delivered to Eddie that afternoon. 

“For little old me?” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes at the delivery boy as he took the carnation. You giggled to yourself as he opened the card again. 

Man, I’m bad at this aren’t I? Don’t worry, this time I’m writing very small so I have room to sign this card. Seeing you light up when these get delivered has made my whole week, and totally worth it. Anyway this is from- 

To be fair, you had actually signed your name this time. However this time you had made an attempt to erase it with one of those erasers. The horrible stiff ones that only made big smudges and made the mistake worse and nearly tore through the paper. You had carefully looked at your smudged signature for a long time before deciding it was illegible enough to send. 

Eddie faked a swoon in his seat, nearly toppling over onto the floor. “Come on!” he laughed, pushing himself back upright, smiling with his whole face. He looked over the note again, something clicking in his brain and you quickly looked down at the book you were currently pretending to read. 

“It’s someone in here.” you heard him mutter to himself and your heart started pounding in your chest. You focused on your breathing to try and stop yourself from giggling and giving yourself away. 

“Stop sending yourself stuff, Munson. It’s pathetic.” Patrick called out. 

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask nicely.” Eddie said, but he sounded distracted as his eyes scanned the room for any hint of who this mysterious person is. “And next time, I’m more than happy with just the lollipop, it’s saving me on smokes.”

You didn’t even notice the lollipop on your desk until class had started back up. Unfolding the card you smiled to yourself, seeing that it was from Robin again. This time the egg in the nest had a crack in it and seemed to be hatching. You’d ask her about it later. 

Nothing said during the rest of class even registered with you, every word was in one ear and out the other. This had been a fun week sending Eddie all the lollipops and flowers but tomorrow was the last day to have something sent to him. 

Were you going to sign your name? That’s the million dollar question. You had told Robin that you would if Eddie seemed interested, and he had made it clear he was enjoying the attention. 

But would he still enjoy the attention if he learned it was from you? You two weren’t exactly friends, but not complete strangers either. He didn’t seem to dislike you, after all he’d raised a toast with you with your lollipops the other day. 

Well, if you were gonna put yourself out there, you were gonna do it on your own terms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Robin said that Friday morning as you dropped a handful of ones on the table for one last hurrah. 

“Nope, I’ve committed.” you said, taking the small stack of cards and getting to work. 

“I’m going to have you committed.” Robin shook her head. “I mean, this is actually insane, you know that right? There’s no reason to go through all this trouble, when you could just talk to him.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Buckley?” you asked, as you added one letter of your name to each of the cards. “Gotta make him work for it.”

“So you’re gonna give him a Valentine's themed word jumble as your big sign off?” 

“Yup.” you confirmed, adding his name to each of the cards. He’d get them all in one go and then it’s up to him to unscramble your name and figure it out. 

After that... well, the ball is in his court. 

Besides, if he liked the lollipops enough that he’d reach for one instead of a cigarette then that’s good enough. 

“You’re such a weirdo. You deserve each other.” Robin went on. “The Weirdo and the Freak. It’s like Beauty and the Beast except.. Not.”

“Robin, don’t you know three languages?” you snorted finishing up your stack and handing them over to be sent. “You are so much smarter than me, but this is where you lose words?”

“It’s Friday and I haven’t had coffee.” she pointed out. “Oh, thanks for sending me one by the way.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you sent me one so I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging.” you nudged her playfully. 

“I didn’t send you one.” Robin looked at you, confused. 

“What?” You reached into your backpack and pulled out the notebook where you had placed the card and handed it to her. “But that’s a robin’s egg...?”

“It’s an egg, probably.” Robin agreed. “But I’m broke. I didn’t send any out.” 

You stared at the card with new eyes. If she didn’t send it, then who did?

---

“Holy shit.” Eddie muttered as a bag of lollipops was dumped on his desk with no rhyme or reason, earning a round of laughter and snickers from the class. The teacher had long since given up on trying to keep the class’s attention when the Cupid’s showed up. 

He sorted through the cards, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the different letters on the cards until he found one that had real words on it. 

Figure it out, Sucker <3 Eddie’s face was a wonderful mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and mild offense. 

One of the Cupid’s handed you another two lollipops as well. One was actually signed by one of your friends in band, and the other had another doodle of an egg. This time the egg was completely hatched and there was some sort of weird bird flying off. 

Not a robin. You decided, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. 

You barely paid attention in class for the rest of the hour, your attention split between the three egg Valentines you received and the man next to you. Eddie had pulled out his Dungeon Master notebook to try and decode your message. You felt flattered that he was using his favored notebook to try and figure out your puzzle. 

Eddie was sucking on one of the lollipops diligently as he scribbled down random letters. Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen him look so studious in class before. You wondered if this is what he looked like when he was working on his campaigns and your brain decided to give you a treat of a daydream where the two of you were sitting around in your room while he explained his campaign and how he’d love to have someone like you join Hellfire-

It was three minutes before the bell, and that meant just a few minutes until your last period and the weekend. With Valentine’s day falling in the middle of the week, most of your friends were going to be off doing things with their partners. Maybe you, Robin, and Steve- no wait, Steve actually got dates. Robin worked on the weekend. 

Maybe Eddie- NOPE. Not going there, you were not about to get your hopes up for this. 

You glanced over at him again, looking at his notebook to see if he was anywhere close to decoding your name. Eddie had the worst handwriting you’d ever seen and so you would be surprised if he could even figure out his own notes. Between unjumbling your letters, he had started doodling in the margins. You assumed that they were D&D monsters from the look of it, since none of them looked like actual animals except for the bats in the corner. 

The only other thing you recognized was a dragon, drawn in a larger scale on the side of the page. It’s wings were expanded and it was flying off, and from this angle it looked like a weird...

It looked like some bird

Some sort of weird bird

Your head snapped back down to the card in front of you. This wasn’t a weird bird. It was a dragon. A dragon hatching from an egg. An egg that hatched a dragon. A dragon that was drawn with the same pose as the one in Eddie’s notebook. Eddie’s notebook had your dragon no wait, your card had his dragon-

Eddie Munson had sent you the cards. 

Eddie had-

“Oh.” You said out loud. You were nearly fighting back hysterical laughter at this, and you pressed your hands against your face, with your shoulder shaking with repressed laughter. 

Why the hell had Eddie sent you those cards? The two of you had barely spoken to each other!

 You did the same damn thing, dipshit. You reminded yourself. In fact you had gone way harder than he had. But what did this MEAN? 

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to get out of the classroom, and before you could say anything, Eddie was off and running out of the classroom at the speed of light. 

What was that about?

Robin was right. If you were ever going to have a chance with him, you were going to suck it up and talk to him, even if it meant possibly embarrassing yourself. Plus, finding out why he sent you three candygrams was currently trumping any fear of rejection. Curiosity killed the cat, but at least he died satisfied. You’re pretty sure how that saying went at least. 

You knew that Eddie had Hellfire today, it was Friday and he and all of his friends had been running around in their club shirts. With a deep breath you...realized you had no idea where the hell they actually met. 

This whole thing could have been planned better, actually. 

You started walking around the school blindly for any sign of the signature baseball tee that they all wore. If you found one of them, they were sure to lead you to Eddie. God, you felt like a stalker. 

There. Long dark curls against a stark white shirt with black sleeves. Your heart leapt in your chest, and you had to make the choice now. 

“E... Eddie! Wait up!” you called out, walking quickly towards him. 

When he turned around to look at you, you felt the air disappear from your lungs. How was it possible for him to be so beautiful and why the fuck did no one in this school seem to notice? 

Eddie pulled the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth, surprised to see you. 

“Hey.” he said. “Uh... you sit next to me in class.” 

He was either playing dumb, or you were about to make an ass of yourself. But, like Robin asked, since when do you care about dignity?

You reached into your bag and pulled out the candygrams that had been sent to you and holding them out. 

To your relief he gave you a bashful smile. “Guess you caught me, huh?” he asked. “You solved my Valentine’s puzzle.” 

“I have a pretty high intelligence when I apply myself.” you said, which only made him grin wide. “But I gotta say, Munson. I’m actually a little disappointed. I mean, sadistic and scary dungeon master of the Hellfire club, and this is the best puzzle you could come up with?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards you. “Well, I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” he said, and your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Had to start somewhere.” 

“I guess I had to be sneaky and pay attention to you to figure it out. You’re hard not to notice, you know.” you admitted, crossing your arms as well to mimic him. 

“Being The Freak means I fail most stealth checks.” he shrugged. 

“High charisma though.” you threw out there, hoping that line would land and to your delight it did.

“It’s the Munson Magic. I come by it naturally.” Eddie’s smile was so wide it was cheesy but shit, it was working on you. 

“Not great intelligence though.” you smirked at him. 

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” He looked a little offended now, and you saw his shoulder stiffen as if he was waiting for this to suddenly go south. 

“Spell my name, Eddie.” 

You could see the lightbulb go off in his mind and his eyes widened. 

“You- wait, you were the one who kept sending me the cards?” Eddie looked nothing short of bewildered and ecstatic. You had a feeling that if things went well, you wouldn’t have to worry about ever knowing what he was thinking as he wore every emotion on his sleeve. 

“Surprise?” you asked, playing with the strap of your backpack. 

Eddie licked his lips, chasing the last of the flavor of the sucker he’d been eating. He looked at you, as if searching for something, and you cut in before he had the chance to find it. 

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” you asked, a little louder than you meant to. “Like, just us.”

“Do you think you can handle a date with The Freak?” Eddie asked, standing a little straighter. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I promise the worst of them are true.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie, I’ve always wanted to join Hellfire.” you smirked. “I’m sure there are worse things for a first date than sacrificing someone to Satan, or summoning demons, or joining a cult.”

“I’m a gentleman, I would never ask a lady to summon demons on the first date. That’s at least a third date activity.” Eddie held his hand to his heart and raised a hand as if making an oath. 

Oh yeah, you were going to marry him. You were already picturing proposing to him and taking him away from this town. 

“Then how about dinner at Benny’s?” you suggested. “Burgers and shakes on me and you can tell me more about Hellfire and dragons and I can give you a spelling lesson.”

Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair and you giggled as the rings got snagged and he struggled to untangle them. 

“It’s.. a date then.” he said, but it came out as more of a question, as if he was asking if this was really happening. 

“A date.” You agreed, handing him your number, having come prepared. 

As you began to walk away, he called out after you. 

“Wait! You said you wanted to check out Hellfire, right?” Eddie said and you turned to look at him. “I’m... I’m actually running a one shot tonight. Kind of beginner friendly enough. I don’t often do this in the middle of the semester but one of our usuals dropped out because he had a date so... we have an open seat at the table. If you think you can handle it.”

Your smile widened as you walked over to him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Eddie offered his arm to you, as if he were a gentleman which you took eagerly. 

“So... how do you actually spell your name?” 

---

Dear Reader, I hope you have the easiest name to spell because that would make this fic at least 3% funnier. Also, I'm proud I got this done before Valentine's day because I never even finished my Halloween or Christmas fic. Be proud of me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tag List: @gagasbee, @ihaventgotaclue-really @tastefullyferal @anonymouskiwi @hellfiredarling

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

[tinytennisskirt]

Meet The Donaldsons

summary: being art’s college girlfriend and being the first girl he’s ever brought home. headcanon of art being the child of a single mother, raised by her and his grandma <3. meeting the family!

warnings: blurb-like, not a full fic. unedited from notes app. kissing. fluff!!! short n sweet babyyy

The first thing you see when you approach is that the house is big and white. The way Art spoke about his mom, you’d think with her grace, she’d be royalty and this house was just that. As you got closer, the intimidation slowed as you could come to see the huge gardens and the too many statues, garden gnomes and pink flamingo decor. Before you got out of the car, Art asked if you were okay. You nodded, so the two of you headed up the front few steps. Art knocked.

She opened the door with her arms up and open, “Arthur!” She beamed, wrapping her son in one of the biggest hugs you’ve ever seen given to anyone. “Oh, my darling, let me look at you.” She pulled away from the hug, observing him, holding his face in both of her hands.

“Mom,” he smiled sheepishly, nose scrunched. You watched his grin take over his smile, perfect teeth showing bright.

“You got taller? I thought you couldn’t! And you’ve been working out, my god, Art, these biceps.” She said, giving his arms a squeeze. You smiled and put your hands on your hips. “My god, you look like a man.”

His smile is pretty as always, but this time you can see that they share similar teeth. “Mom,” he said, a little quieter, her hands still on his face, his arms, his shoulders. He tipped his head toward you and his mom gasped a little.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry, darling,” she turned to you, gasping again when she fully set her eyes on you. she was not afraid to pull you into a hug. “Hi.” She said, rubbing your back as she hugged you. Her hug had the perfect pressure and you note that she smells like pumpkin spice. “My goodness, you are gorgeous, let me look at you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you laughed a little as she pulled away, giving you a spin. “I’m-“

“Y/N! I know, I’ve heard all about you! God, you’re gorgeous. Art, she’s gorgeous.” She nods back in Art’s direction. His grin is ear-to-ear, wide and stunning as he nods in agreement. “My goodness, who knit you, a supermodel and moviestar? Or two models, look at your eyes, they’re stunning!”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I-“

“You might just be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen-“ She turned back to Art, “She is so beautiful.”

Art nodded again, arms folded over his stomach. “I know.”

“Does he tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“All the time,” you replied. “You raised him right.”

She laughed and you could see the resemblance between her and her son as she bat you away, “I like you. Come in, come in!”

She opens the door and steps back inside, Art gladly slips his arm around you, his hand coming to rest on the opposite side of your waist. You beam at him and he’s smiling just the same, your shared thoughts are silent, but understood.

The front hall is massive and bright. It’s not white like the exterior, but the walls are a pale sort of rosy-purple and there are tons and tons of paintings of all sorts of things lining up the grand staircase. But on main display was all of Art’s memorabilia- ribbons, trophies all hanging and on small shelves above the archway to the next room. The staircase, as beautiful, wrapped around that arch to come down on both sides of the foyer. You were sure you’d never been in a house so big in your life, this foyer was probably as big as your house back home. “Wow,” you mumbled quietly. “You told me it was big, but I thought mansion big not big mansion big.”

“I’ve mentioned it but how many times do I really want to throw around the word ‘mansion’, I’d sound like some sort of…”

“I taught him better,” his mom nodded just ahead of you both. “Art knows that we are beyond lucky to have what we have, I couldn’t stand it if I birthed a little Richie Rich. I was already terrified when he came out blonde!” Her laugh was loud and melodious and filled the hallway entirely. You looked at Art, nodding.

“I’m not- yeah- shhh,” he smiled, passing you just a little, hand sliding back around your waist and into his pocket. He rocked just a little on his heels. “Tour? Mom?”

“Tour!” She cheered, “What was I thinking, charcuterie can wait. You like cheese, Y/N?”

“Love.” You replied, smiling.

“Good, because we have way too much. I wasn’t sure what to get but charcuterie is about assortment anyway, so I bought the whole selection. It almost takes up a table!” She laughed her booming laugh again. As she walked into the next room, you had a moment to fully assess her profile. She was short, shorter than Art, just the tiniest bit shorter than you. Shoulder length golden blonde that was just the slightest bit grey but in a sort of chic way. She shared Art’s eyes and his smile.

She didn’t look like she’d gotten any work done though Art had told you she’d gotten some. Her eyes crinkled when she laughed and her eyebrows were expressive and you wanted to credit her youthful glow with a happy life. She was also dressed in a tasteful blue floral wrap dress. Despite her money, the dress was one you’d seen at Walmart not too long ago. She also wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“You saw the foyer, this is the living room.” The room was decorated with flowers and lots of colours, though brown was the colour that was frequented most. But it was paired with pinks and blues and greens. You’d almost expected one of those homes that are nearly empty, but there were far too many fruits in the coffee table bowl, pomegranates and oranges and grapes. The clutter was gorgeous, books all around and of course, more of Art’s tennis trophies and lots of photos of him and his mom. She really loved her son, it was sweet to see.

“You were so little,” you sighed sweetly, looking at a photo of little Art and his tiny tennis racket. “Little blondie.” Art came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you gazed over the pictures of him at one, two, five, seven…

“I haven’t seen some of these in ages,” Art said, looking over them himself. “Before it was diaper pictures.”

You gasped, “No way, they’re gone?”

“Darling, they’re never gone. They’re in the photo book on the coffee table. Let me tell you, nothing compares to this one picture I have of little Art in the kitchen sink, butt-naked. He was one, maybe two? He-“

“Mom?” Art spoke with a tone of loving warning. “No sink bath pictures, please.”

You giggled, swaying with Art’s hands around your waist, teasing. “Later.” You nodded. Art’s mom gave you a sly little wink, guiding you into the next room. This room was a messy little office/study. A grand desk, gorgeously glossy and made of the prettiest coloured wood you’d ever seen. The walls were lined with books and the computer on the table was fancy. Big, chunky, fancy. There was an easel in the corner and a paint setup with shelving. “I like to paint with oils.” His mom told you. “Between business calls.”

The next room was a little gym, then a laundry room, the kitchen was absolutely stunning, huge, very fancy. The dining room was insanely gorgeous, lined with pretty wallpaper and a cream tablecloth. The next room over was a small parlour. You really had the idea that Art’s mom was a sports mom, but she was her own person entirely, and her personality was splashed all over the walls.

They took you outside where there was a pool, a hot tub, and a tennis court. A whole tennis court. It made sense, though. It was the biggest splash of Art you’d seen so far if you didn’t count the shrines. “Oh wow, it’s huge.”

“Where Art learned to love tennis. We bought the house with it, thought we’d let him try it out. Look at him now, on his way to a big name.” She pinched his cheek again and he bat her hand away lovingly. You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Art tells me you play tennis too?”

“I’m learning.”

“She’s better than me,” Art told his mom.

“Am not,” you folded your arms. “I can barely hit the ball.”

“Oh, neither can I, honey. We should play.” His mom grinned, grabbing your hand. Your fingers interlocked and she pulled you in, holding your hand as she pulled you down to the garden. You got into conversation with Art and his mom about the trees, how he used to play in them. It moved into a softer conversation about his childhood and about yours, moving through other curious rooms. You circled back to a room with the table full of cheese and crackers and other fruits and meats, where the conversation was school, your history, repeating the story of how you met. You two sat on the loveseat across from her in her tall pink chair. She clasped her hands together happily, listening, then after a while, dismissed herself for an afternoon nap until dinner. “I’ll leave Art to show you the upstairs. The bedrooms…” She teased.

“Mom,” Art said, a small flush to his ears and nose. He was cute. His mom fluttered out of the room with a small smirk. Art hid his face and you giggled just a little. He raised his head, nose pink. “I’m sorry, she’s…”

“Perfect,” you finished his sentence. You were so genuinely thrilled by all of this, it was no wonder you were practically bursting.God, she’s amazing, Art. She’s beautiful and looks just like you and she’s so eccentric, I’ve never met anyone like her- And I think she likes me.”

“She loves you,” he nodded, pushing your hair behind your ear, smiling. You couldn’t help but grin, leaning in to kiss him. Just a small kiss, with a mutual smile between. “I don’t think she’s ever loved me as much as she loves you.”

“Ooh, I might steal. You better watch out before your mom becomes mine,” you teased, kissing him quickly again. Your hand gently cupped the side of his face, but he held you close.

“There’s other ways to do that, I promise.” He kissed you again. “Come upstairs. My grandma is staying with us for the weekend too, you can meet her if she’s not asleep.”

You kept smiling, “Think she’ll like me as much?”

“She made my mom, my mom loves you and frankly, so do I. I don’t think my grandma can do anything but love you too.”

“Three generations,” you smiled, letting him pull you off the small couch. His smile was content and near a smirk. “I love you too.”

“Mhm.” He pulled you in again, kissing you once more on the lips, then forehead, before pulling you up the stairs. At the top, he did a little turning gesture, wide-arms referencing the top floor. You were a little in awe at how big it all still was. “Thoughts?”

“Huge.”

He chuckled, kissing your shoulder gently as he walked around you. “I used to go down the stairs on my stomach. Got rug burn. My grandma, actually, would always get me frozen peas to soothe it. I always went back and did it again later.”

“I think we would have gotten along as kids,” you nodded. “You’re cute, Richie Rich.”

“Unfair.” He retorted, leading you to his grandma’s room. He knocked gently at her door, “Grandma?”

“Arthur? That you?” A sweet woman’s voice came from the room. “Come in, come in!”

You smiled at the use of his full name. He winced just a little, smile on his face matching yours. He pulled you along as he opened the door. The room was baby blue, with a big wooden bed with lovely pale blue curtains. there was a tv and a rocking chair, which his grandma was seated in. Her hair in a little bun, she was a tiny woman. Very short, very thin, but also still very pretty. “Oh, it’s Y/N!” She smiled, clasping her hands together in a fashion much like Art’s mom. “Come, darling, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Art shot you an ‘I told you so’ look, but you were busy having your heart full of the fact Art spoke enough about you with his mom and grandma that she knew exactly who you were by name and wanted to see you immediately. You stepped her way, “It’s so nice to meet you, Art talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise, my dear! You’re just as beautiful as Art described. Do a spin for me?” You gladly turned in a circle. “Absolutely stunning. Art, you did well, my boy!”

“I think so,” he replied, stepping forward to hug her gently in her chair. He was so cute. Too cute. “How are you?”

“Oh, just a little sleepy. Was going to have a nap in a few minutes. Same old, same old woman.” She bat the air playfully. “My god will we talk at dinner. I am so glad you found someone with such kind eyes, Arthur. They match yours perfectly.” A poetic woman. “How are you, dear?”

“Oh, I’m good,” you smiled.

“And Arthur?”

“I’m good too- do you need help getting to bed? We can leave you to nap.”

She nodded, “Always such a kind young man. Missed you. I watched the last game your mom recorded, you were spectacular.”

“I missed you too,” he said with a small smile, helping get up. “Thank you, Grandma.” His lips pressed into a straight-lined smile. She held onto his arm as he walked her slowly over to her bed, helping her in. Your heart fluttered a bit at the simple act.

“Thank you for coming to say hi, Y/N. I look forward to meeting you better after my nap.” She smiled, pulling the covers over. She squeezed Art’s hand and whispered something to him under his breath. He grinned ear-to-ear. “Good mid-afternoon!” She called to you and Art jogged back over to you, you waved and followed him out the door.

“What did she say?” You giggled, moving closer to him, your chest pressed against his. He just grinned. “Tell me?”

“Mmm, later,” he nodded, hands wrapping around your waist. “Come see my room.”

“Is there a bed?”

“Queen sized?” He grinned, not letting you go, but pulling you with him, still against him, looking down at you just slightly. “My room is furthest down the hall. No judging though.”

“That’s all I’m here to do,” you teased, kissing him on the cheek and walking ahead to the room at the end of the hall. He nodded, so you opened the door and your jaw dropped. The room had pale red walls, partial beige carpeting against wooden floors, a big wooden bed, and a tv setup. You tried to ignore the folded ping pong table in the corner. “Oh my god, it’s huge. The room, the bed, the… wow.”

“It’s big, I know.” He walked over to his bed. The walls had tennis posters, movie posters, and game posters. You noted the mini fridge.

“This is not what I pictured,” you gawked a little as you took it all in. “But it’s so… you.” You eyed the books on the shelves. Old books, they seemed. It was very Art. Even his comforter was very him. He sat on his bed and you stood in front of him, looking down. Your hands rested on his shoulders gently. “Thank you for bringing me here with you. It’s amazing, it’s really beautiful here and your room… Richie Rich.”

He shook his head, hands gently sliding up your hips. “Maybe.”

“Knew it.” You said, pointing a finger. His hands snaked around your lower back, slipping under your shirt to touch your skin. “You admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Are you paying attention?” You teased, tapping just under his chin. He looked up at you with those soft eyes that read as a ‘no’. “That’s okay.”

“Tired.” He nodded. So were you, you noticed. The trip had been exhausting, but meeting his mom and grandma had given you a second wind that was now dying. You giggled a little as his arms wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you down onto him on the bed. With easily intertwined limbs, you both got comfortable on his bed, his arms around you, your legs twisted up comfortably. His hand ran over the back of your head, through your hair. A nap seemed to be the theme in the house. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You replied, squeezing him just a little. You moved just once more, so that Art was more in your arms, and you kissed him on the temple.

“I always dreamed about having a girl in my bed,” he mumbled, a grin on his face, his eyes closed. You kissed the side of his head again, he turned just a little to kiss you properly. You giggled a little uncontrollably as he rolled on top of you for just a second, kissing you hard and then kissing your cheek, your nose, your cheek again, your lips, and then reverting back to his original position.

“To do that?”

“That and other things.” He nodded, eyes shut again, smile still very wide on his face. “Later.”

“Sounds like a-“ you yawned, he followed. “Plan.” You settled in once more and ten minutes later the both of you were sound asleep. And you stated that way for a few hours, maybe three, intertwined on top of his comforter. His mom slowly opened the door in the fresh dark of his room, the sun having set, after knocking a few times with no answer. Her eyes fell on the two of you and she smiled, before closing the door and calling downstairs to say that dinner would be postponed another hour.

Around nine, you woke in the calm silence of his room, disoriented for a moment, but you felt Art beside you, breathing steadily. You looked at the digital clock next to his bed and sighed just a little. “Art,” you whispered, kissing his cheek gently. “Art, wake up.”

He stirred just a little. You kissed his cheek again, then the corner of his eye, then his lips gently. His hand raised, sliding over your jaw and into the back of your hair as he woke into kissing you more. It was sweet and gentle. “Hi.” He said between kisses. “What time is it?”

“Nine.” You replied. His hand slipped down over your arm, rubbing up and down. “Think we slept through dinner?”

“We eat late anyway,” he smiled. “Should probably head down though.”

“Mmm, okay,” you nodded back, starting to get up. He didn’t let you, kept you close. “Art.”

“Mhm?”

“‘Should probably head down though’,” you quoted back to him. He shook his head, pulling you back in to kiss you. You giggled against his lips. “Mmm, Art- your mom, your grandma- are they waiting?”

“Maybe-“ He kissed you again. “Probably. Okay. Let’s go.” You smiled, watching him stretch and get up from the bed. You slipped off the opposite side and went to turn the light on. You checked over your eye makeup which surprisingly wasn’t so disturbed from sleep. Your clothes were fine. You looked presentable, running fingers through your hair. Art, of course, didn’t have to do a thing. The two of you talked about the pictures on the walls as you walked down the stairs, teasing the gap between his teeth from his childhood and remarking on how cute his ears are and were, laughing as you entered the living room again.

“You’re up! Perfect. How was your nap?” His mom immediately set down the book she was reading. “I have to tell you, my nap was so lovely. I had a dream about creme brûlée, so I had my chef whip some up for after dinner. I would make it myself usually, I know, but I thought since we have guests, I’d much rather be present.”

Art rubbed his eye, “Nap was good. Where’s grandma?”

“Knitting in the parlour, we should grab her and head to the table, I know she’s dying to talk to you, Y/N. Kept going on about your hips and my god, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also jealous of them.” She laughed loudly, standing up.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m jealous of your hair, I mean the volume, it’s gorgeous.”

“So what you’re saying is we go get our hair done tomorrow?” She shimmied a little teasing shrug. “Oh, and nails? Maybe a pedicure and a massage. Art, your girlfriend is mine.”

He leaned into your ear, “She’s always wanted a daughter.” It warmed your heart.

“I would love that, but I can’t-“

“If you mention money, I want you out of here within the hour,” she warned you playfully as you walked to the parlour. “My treat! I need someone to go with me.”

Art’s hand slipped under the back of your shirt as you turned the corner again, resting on your lower back. “I would love that. That’s amazing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. But it’ll be fun. We can gossip, talk boybands, get lunch? If that’s okay with Art. Art?”

“I’ll… spend the day with grandma,” he nodded at you, then his mom with a smile. You could tell me really loved how much your mom loved you. Like he was proud, almost. “It’s okay with me.”

“Thank you. We’d be back for dinner and you’re staying four days, correct?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“So you really mean five?”

“Mom,”

“So you really mean a week?” She burst out laughing, turning and hitting Art in the arm playfully. “No worries, darling.” She opened the door and with a few sweet words, you all made your way to the dining room, Art’s grandmother in her wheel chair asking you your favourite colour, movie, show, showtune, animal, etc.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation was lighthearted. His grandmother was gorgeous with a stunning sense of humour and his mom and her got along like best friends. He interacted with them so sweetly. It was clear they were truly valued by him and their influence on him was suddenly clearer. The way he talked was from them, some of his little hand gestures were definitely from his mom. You laughed and ate and shared a bottle of limoncello until around eleven.

They were night people for sure. The conversation eventually lead to listening some music and then eventually, saying goodnight. Art’s mom pushed his grandma away in the wheelchair and you grinned wide the moment they were out of sight, turning to Art. “I love it here,” you told him. “I love your mom, your grandma.” You kissed him, his hands eased around your waist. “Thank you for bringing me-“ He kissed you again. “Home. I am so-“ You couldn’t help but giggle madly as he kissed you back down onto the couch, you were unable to fight it. His hands on your waist still, one knee between your legs, the other knee he balanced on his knee on the edge of the couch. He kissed you passionately, with the underlying notes of sweetness, both of you smiling into it. He was happy to be home, he was happy to have y-

His knee slipped off the edge of the couch, causing him to slip right onto the carpet. You gasped slightly as he tumbled, but then he just laughed, laying on his back on the purple rug. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. He started to get up, but you wouldn’t let him, kissing him as he started to come up, the both of you still laughing into it. He cupped your jaw, pulled gently, and in seconds you were on top of him, kissing him on the carpet while some 90s soft music continued to play from a record his mom had put on a while ago.

A gentle kiss, though unending, his hands through your hair as you kissed on the floor. Smiles still unwavering. Things had gone so much better than expected, you were happy. Really happy. You had plans with his mom tomorrow. She loved you. His grandma loved you. You had three more days with them. With him. Here, in his home, the home he grew up in. God, it was perfect. He was perfect. You were overwhelmed by just how perfect everything had been so of course you kissed him just a little harder. He took it gladly.

Keeping it tame, you ended up only kissing, which felt safe for the living room floor. After a while the kissing turned to talking, your face hovering just above his, fixing his tousled hair and kissing his nose. “You have to try playing tennis again.” He told you. “For me.”

“For you,” you nodded. “Third evening.”

“After dinner, third evening.”

“Mhm. So we can go back up to your room after.”

“Yeah?”

“So I can shower and sleep.” You teased.

“Awe,” he sighed, kissing you again. You kept smiling as the two of you soon got up and chased each other back to his bedroom. After an hour or so, the both of you were tired enough to pass out intertwined. Under the covers this time, with a big day ahead of you both.

Your head on his chest in his bed in his home. It was soon to feel like yours too.

[pisshorny]

Saw you were taking requests and decided to drop on in! I’ve been really trying to push the “Leon loves goths” agenda and just wanted to see if you had an ideas for cute rookie!Leon having the hots for a goth. You can make it as sfw or nsfw as you want. I just can’t stop thinking about smothering him in black lipstick kiss marks ahh.

ROOKIE! LEON KENNEDY & GOTH CHICK

∿ warn . nsfw under cut, riding, tit sucking, leon calls you mommy!

this is a drabble! so the quality isn’t very good :(( vaguely proof read too so WAAA BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY! 3k words :33 when i tell you i CHEERED when i saw this in my inbox, i’m being so fr! i’m a proud goth so seeing the goth chick agenda being spread.. UGH! the dream don’t play. goth girl x leon is so real.. WRITING RULES | PINNED

when leon first saw you, he couldn’t look away. he really did try to tear away his gaze from you, but he physically couldn’t help but ogle at your outfit and overall disposition. he’s never seen someone with that sense of style you had outside of media — he vaguely knows what goths are, he’s seen goths displayed in movies and shows, like nancy downs in the craft, or late at night when mtv played the cure.

it was surprising to see you in raccoon city, with clothing that made it seem like you had just stepped out of a funeral and heavy eyeliner that made you resemble the dead.

in a midwestern small town, you don’t often see people with alternative fashion, and seeing you in full gothic attire was like finding a needle in a haystack.

it was almost funny how mundane setting was, leon had just stepped inside the local coffee shop near the police station to grab some coffee before his shift, and here you were, tucked away in the corner of the shop idly reading a book. he would’ve expected to see you at the local hot topic or the morgue, but no, you were just.. reading.

your nose was stuck inside a stephen king novel, carrie, leon thinks — he couldn’t make out the cover words as he stood by the cashier counter.

you were listening to music too, leon saw the cassette resting on the table and the headphones that covered your ears, he wondered what were you listening to. the cure? honestly, that’s the only gothic band he knows, he mainly focuses on listening to grunge, maybe the NSYNC when he needs a change of pace. would you hate that? frown down at him because he likes the occasional boy band? he hopes not.

leon was snapped out of his thoughts when the barista called out to him, “sir, can i help you?” she asked sweetly, tensing in surprise, leon looked back at the woman and cleared his throat. “oh, uh, yeah!” he said quickly.

after giving the barista his order, he paused, glancing back at you. you still read, blissfully unaware of his glances, “hey, does she come here often?” leon whispered as he turned to face the barista, subtly gesturing over to you. the barista raised her eyebrow as she looked over leon’s shoulders to you. “occasionally, but only at night.. some of my workers are convinced she’s like a vampire or something.” the woman laughed, mocking you as she looked back at leon. “what? is she scaring you, officer?” she teased, a small grin coming up to her lips.

leon shook his head, “no, no—“ he paused, “..what did she order?” he asked, realizing how stupid he might look.

the barista’s grin faltered, not expecting that response.

“uh.. vanilla coffee, why?” she questioned.

“can i add that to my order?” leon asked, he wanted to talk to you, and he wanted to seem as natural as possible to not seem like some creep.

the barista paused as she glanced back at you, “oh, yeah! yeah, of course, is that all?” she asked as she took her notepad out again. leon nodded his head, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck, “uh..yeah, ma’am, thank you.” he said quietly, nodding his head at her once more to show his gratitude before he took out his wallet.

after paying, leon stood by the counter, stealing glances over at you. once the coffees were ready, leon perked up and took them, walking over to your table.

once he reached your table, leon cleared his throat, holding the two steaming cups of coffee as he thought about what to say.

“excuse me?” he called out, hoping to get your attention from the book without having to stand there awkwardly. he had one mission tonight: to get your number.

while you read, you noticed how a figure had come up to you by your peripheral vision. taking your attention away from your reading, you looked up to see who was bothering you. you weren’t expecting to lock eyes with a police officer, it was the last thing you expected. tensing, you were startled, why was there a police man looking down at you? you hadn’t been a disturbance to the shop.

furrowing your eyebrows, you put your book down and took off your headphones before pausing your cassette.

“can i help you?” you asked, distaste clear in your features.

leon just stared, baby blue eyes taking in how pretty your makeup was. it wasn’t full traditional gothic glam, yet the detail in your eyeliner and perfectly coated black lipstick was impressive. leon bit the inside of his cheek before he took in a deep breath and shifted, “uh,” what was he supposed to say? “sorry, i was watching you earlier—“ horrible start, leon! “— and i just think you’re pretty, i like your..makeup and clothes.” he stammered. god, get it together, kennedy!

you paused, the tension in your shoulders releasing, that’s not what you expected at all.

as someone with alternative fashion, you’ve had your fair share of problems with people of authority. the world seems to love assuming that you’re satanic and plan to burn down churches, you’re nothing more than a girl that enjoys indulging in gothic media. from songs, to books, to movies, and make up. it’s just who you are.

nonetheless, having a cop, out of all people, compliment you was endearing.

you eyed the chubby cheeked cop, noticing the two cups of coffee in his hands. he was cute, with those bright blue eyes and preppy look, “aw, thanks.” you began, a small smile curling on your lips.

“what are the two coffees for?” you mused, your eyebrows raising in interest as you looked at the cups.

leon pursed his lips and glanced away, damn, why was he was acting bashful? looking back at you quickly, he let out a breathless chuckle, “i got one for you,” he said, offering you the cup. “thought it could help break the ice.”

you reached out and took the cup off his hands, a small laugh leaving your lips, this guy was charming.

“it’s working,” you mused before putting the carton cup to your lips, you took a small sip, a hum of delight leaving your lips as the warm liquid touched your tongue. vanilla, your favorite. “how did you know i liked vanilla?” you questioned.

leon shifted, “lucky guess?” he said, deciding not to mention he asked the cashier.

squinting, you nodded before putting the cup down. “so.. what do you want officer?” you asked, wanting to know the motive behind his actions, leon moved his hand up to scratch behind his neck. “i was hoping to get your number?” he said, looking at you like a hopeful puppy.

“you want my number?”

“yeah, i wanna get to know you better.”

a small smirk curled on your lips, “alright, officer.” you said, reaching into your bag, you slipped out a pen before reached for the table napkins.

leon watched intently, you swore his eyes seemed to be sparkling.

“i don’t know your name.” you pointed out while scribbling your number down onto the napkin, leon straightened up, “oh, right.. leon kennedy.” he introduced himself, glancing over at his digital watch. leon mentally winced as he realized he was already late to work.

nodding, you finished writing your number before standing up. “alright, leon, i’ll wait for your call.” you hummed, glancing at him with a small smirk before grabbing your bag and coffee. handing him the napkin, you walked away, leaving him staring at you like a lost puppy.

you were so pretty and confident, an air of mystery followed you that made leon want more.

taking the napkin in his hand, he read it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx — call me ;)

just then he realized, he didn’t know your name.

your room was chilly, closer by nine inch nails playing in the background, the song was muffled and quiet, leon’s focus was completely on you.

his lips were pressed against yours, making out with you sloppily, a moan slipped past his lips as the two of you kissed. his hands were wrapped around your body while you straddled his lap. leon’s body was hot, you were taking the lead with this and he didn’t mind — your body pressed against his while your arms were wrapped around his neck.

the kiss was eager and messy, leon’s hands resting against your back as they clutched the back of your lacy black bra, shaky hands trying to work on taking off your bra.

once oxygen began to come between the two of you, you pulled back with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips before you pulled back, your hands moving to cup his face as you looked down at him. panting, leon’s eyes locked with yours, your black lipstick smeared, coating his bruised lips.

a small smile curled on your lips before you aided him with unclasping your bra, quickly tossing it to the side, your tits perking in full display. “like ‘em?” you hummed, moving your hands to cup your breasts and push them up, leon’s eyes widened when he noticed two barbells adorning your perky nipples — your nipples were pierced and his cock was aching.

nodding like an idiot, leon shuddered, “y-yeah.” he confirmed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, greedy hands squeezing the mounds of fat, watching as the fat poked through the gaps between his fingers. he groped them like a hormonal teenage boy that’s never had a face full of tits before.

“they’re soft..” leon mumbled, squeezing and fondling.

letting out a huffing laugh, you plucked his greedy hands away from your perky tits and reached down to his pants, his denim jeans pressing tightly against his clothed cock.

shuddering, leon glanced down with wide eyes as your smaller hands palmed his cock.

a soft moan left leon’s lips, his hips twitching upward against your touch, eager for more. you moved your hand up to the zipper of his pants and expertly undid the button and zipper, leon wondered how many people you’ve been with before him. your movements were eager and precise, you had experience — it made leon’s heart tumble as he realized he didn’t match your level, yet a blossoming excitement filled his tummy.

you were going to make him putty in your hands and he was excited.

hooking your fingers on the elastic band of his pants and underwear, you tugged down the fabrics, a shaky gasp leaving leon’s lips as he felt his cock spring up from the restraints.

his throbbing cock stood proudly, the tip sticky with pre-cum while the tip blushed a rosy color.

your hand wrapped around his cock, giving him slow pumps before your gaze locked with his, “you have a pretty dick,” you mumbled, your lips curling up in a playful smile.

leon trembled, his hands moving back to clutch the black comforter of your bed. leon’s cheeks burned red as he looked down at your hand as you stroked his cock. looking up at you, he shuddered, “b-baby,“ he mumbled, “m’need you.” leon babbled.

“yeah, baby?” you mused, slipping your hand away from his cock to nestle yourself properly on his lap.

“you need me?” you repeated.

leon nodded his head, baby blue eyes lidded as he stared at you.

“s’much, please.”

you bit your bottom lip and hummed, moving to grasp his cock again before moving your hand down to your panties and pushing the fabric aside, quickly adjusting yourself above his aching cock, you lowered yourself, his tip kissing your folds.

leon was a pretty sight, he already looked fucked out and you haven’t even put his cock in, there was something about your boyfriend looking so shaky and needy under your touch that made your cunt throb. your pussy was wet and sticky, eager to feel him around your warm walls.

leon’s hands moved to your hips, his large hands squeezing the fat of your hips eagerly.

“c’mon, please, baby— please.” he pleaded, trying to roll his hips up to try and slip his cock inside your pussy.

“aw,” you smirked, tilting your head to the side, “relax, i’ve got you.” you teased, babying him.

in one swift movement, you slipped down onto his cock, a small moan of relief leaving your lips as your cunt sucked leon’s shaft eagerly. you’ve a handful of dicks inside you before, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, but leon’s body trembled.

feeling your warm walls hug his girth snugly made leon see stars.

he threw his head back as a choked moan left his lips, his eyes shutting tightly as he got accustomed to the feeling. holy shit.

panting, he squeezed your hips tightly, leaving crescent shaped marks on your skin as he dug his nails into your flesh.

“f-fuck—“ leon stammered, his eyes fluttering open and meeting your gaze. his breathing was shaky and you haven’t even moved yet — he really didn’t have much experience. leon has fucked before, he slept with his ex-girlfriend every now and then but her libido was low and leon was hormonal, the most solace he got was a hefty amount of lotion and his fist, but this? this was fucking brain altering.

slowly, you began to roll your hips again his, a soft breath leaving your lips as you felt his girthy cock push against your walls, savoring the feeling.

letting your hands rest against leon’s chest, you dug your black manicured nails against his pale skin. leon wasn’t shy about his pleasure, the moans leaving his lips were needy, whiny, and loud.

“like that?” you moaned, glancing down at him as your hips bounced against his, his cock slipping in and out of your pretty pussy, the tip pressing flush against your cervix, giving it kisses with each roll of your hips.

“y-yes,“ he gasped.

each roll of your hips felt like a surge of electricity slipping through leon’s veins, “s’good—“ he slurred, clenching his jaw as he let out a heavy breath. his grip on your hips remained tight and firm, his hips rolling up against your own, desperately trying to match your pace, but it was sloppy.

you let out a soft sigh, moving up to cup his face in your hands, leon’s gaze moved up to your face, big blue puppy dog eyes meeting yours.

smirking, you moved your chest to his face, moving his head against your plush tits.

getting the message, leon eagerly popped one of your pierced nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue pressing and flicking your bud like a baby. he moved his hands up to your waist, holding you close while he suckled eagerly.

shuddering, you let out a moan as leon sucked on your tits.

continuing to bounce on his fat cock, leon was seeing stars. being able to suck on your fat tits while your cunt actively sucked his cock back inside was making his brain fuzzy while a tight coil began to form inside his tummy.

he moaned against your skin, his balls beginning to tighten while his cock throbbed.

“gonna cum, m’gonna cum, mommy—“ he moaned, his cheek pressed against your tit while his saliva coated his skin.

he was too pussydrunk to realize he called you that, but you heard him. your eyebrows raised in surprise, “mommy?” you mused, a small smirk curling in your lips, “gonna cum for mommy?” you teased, moving your hand to the back of his head, your finger tangling between the locks of his hair. you pulled on his hair, pushing him away from your tits to look into his eyes.

leon nodded eagerly, his hips rolling against your hips.

“yes, mommy.” he gasped.

a small laugh left your lips before you let of of his hair and continued to bounce on his cock, “go ahead then, cum for mommy.” you babied, pressing your lips against his forehead, your black lipstick staining his skin.

leon moaned, his eyes rolling back as his lips parted, his lips were glossy with his saliva as his hands moved down to your hips. he gripped your body tightly as he began to maneuver you, guiding your hips against his as he fucked his hips upward.

his movements were sloppy, leon’s brain zeroing in on chasing his high.

the coil in his tummy began to tighten, he was desperate, forcing you up and down his cock like you were nothing but a pocket pussy.

you were surprised by the sudden change of pace, sometimes you forget that leon is much stronger than he seems. gasping, you felt your cunt get fucked with each thrust upward, your tits bouncing at the force while the sound of your pussy squelching around his cock got louder.

whimpering, leon bit his bottom lip harshly, he was right at his peak, and with one final thrust, he pulled you down onto his cock before his cum spurted out.

his tip nuzzled right against your battered cervix, his cum filling your pretty pussy up. thick, sticky, and milky.

leon’s back arched, his toes curling while his body trembled. he gasped and panted, a deep groan leaving his lips. he hasn’t cum that hard in forever, actually— he doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard, his head was swirling while his body shook with the aftershock of his climax.

you let out a small moan when leon slammed you down onto his cock, your breathing steadying as he filled your cunt up with his cum.

after a few seconds, you felt leon’s cock slowly getting soft inside you, but you didn’t make any attempts to move. “leon?” you mused, feeling leon nuzzle against your chest again.

“yeah?”

you hummed, slowly moving to roll your hips against his again, his body immediately tensing as his sensitive cock got rubbed against. he squeezed you and gasped out a choked breath, wanting to stop you, needing a break to get down from his high, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“you’re getting me a plan b later.” you moaned, smirking as you felt him tremble.

tags 〜 @rigorwhoring @nilpill @cubedkennedy @ottermarbles @dollivication @dilfmaagnet @v0lturiaq @maes-mind555 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @luvrgreyy @arminsbf @sprawberry @xxfritzz @flutterylust @angelstargel @cockiiess @ghosty-the-doll @crystaksack

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | CH.3: Ride or Dye

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), inexperienced heeseung but he is surprisingly good, mentions of struggle with family/trauma, haunted house, there isn't many warnings on this one, it's quite cute...until the end, if i missed any lmk! wc: 16k ch.3 synopsis: the police are hot on your tail and with the news plastering your face on the news, you and heeseung set off up north. however, when you see an old amusement park and change your plans. maybe not your best idea... a/n: hi! if you are reading this just know i love you more than anyone else. i am releasing a day early bc i have some things i want to release later on on the week! this is definitely one of my favourite chapters i have ever written and it's full of fluff and character building so i hope you enjoy it and don't find it boring! thank you for the love on this series and i'll see you back here for the finale <3 reblogs, likes, comments, feedback are all welcome!

chapter 2 | masterlist | finale

“Just do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait, wait, wait…will it hurt?”

“It’s hair, Heeseung, of course it won’t.”

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous question. Heeseung has clearly had his hair trimmed at various stages of his life, so why on earth does he think this time will be different? Perhaps it’s the fact that you are the one holding the scissors.

Ever since you both discovered that the police are hot on your trail, broadcasting unflattering pictures of you across UK news channels, it has been difficult to keep a low profile. You have tried to stay on the outskirts of the country, weaving through little towns where you hope the residents are too busy tending to their farms or stores to stay inside and watch the news.

So far, your strategy has worked, but too many close calls has instilled fear in both of you. Once, Heeseung wanted to order milkshakes from a small cafe in the Cotswolds and completely missed the massive red flag that your wanted pictures were plastered on the pages of the paper the waitress was reading. Another time, you insisted on staying inside a barn in the middle of Wiltshire, only to be chased out by a rightfully angry farmer brandishing a pitchfork, threatening to call the police.

Hence, here you are in Ayrshire, in a shady hotel that only takes cash, dying and cutting each other's hair. You settled for a jet black and bangs combo, which perfectly masked enough of your face that even you have trouble recognising yourself. Heeseung, on the other hand, insisted on pure white hair, claiming that hiding in plain sight is better than being inconspicuous with a natural shade of chestnut or blonde.

The only problem was that he fought with you for a good three hours, denying the fact that he needed a haircut and insisting that the hair colour transformation was enough. But when he looked into the mirror with his wet mop, he conceded the argument, realising that he looked more like the picture in the paper than ever before.

So here you are with a piece of his long hair sitting stiffly between your fingers as you prepare to make the first cut. Heeseung is staring at himself in the dirty mirror of the room that looks as though it has never seen a spray of glass cleaner in its life and mourns his luscious locks.

As you slice the scissors through his hair, he feels as though it’s his heart that is being snipped apart. The sound of the kitchen scissors rings alarms in his ears and he pouts, shutting his eyes as though you’re torturing him.

“Stop being a baby or I’ll shave it all off,” you warn, your tone resembling that of a mother who has told her child off for the last time and is threatening to send them to bed without dinner.

Heeseung slowly opens his eyes, a glaze of worry and remorse swimming over them. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been growing my hair out for a while and I really don’t want another bowl cut.” You can see the memories of the horrendous haircuts flash in his eyes, the taunts from his schoolmates as he walked into school multiple times with a cut that was genuinely as awful as it sounded. His mum used to put a Pyrex bowl on his head and cut around it, refusing to pay the barbers when she was ‘perfectly capable of doing it herself.’

You try to picture what he would look like with a lopsided bowl cut and snort, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, momentarily disregarding safety as the scissors sit loosely in your grip. The snicker doesn’t go down well with your client, and you quickly resort to instilling some ease into him, stroking the back of his head gently.

“Trust me, I’ve been cutting my own hair since I was a teen. I know what I’m doing,” you assure him, despite only one of those statements being true, and it was not the latter.

His eyes shift in the mirror to meet yours, a soft look in them. “Your mum never cut it for you?” he asks carefully, not knowing the full extent of your family or your history with them.

“My mum… she isn’t here anymore, she hasn’t been for a long time,” you admit honestly, deciding to use this opportunity of his distraction to cut more of his hair. The length falls just to the top of his neck, and considering Heeseung has a lot of hair, this is already a massive change.

Heeseung’s expression softens further, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “Don’t be, I didn’t really know her since she passed away when I was little.” There are few memories you share with your mum, her presence almost lost in the fog of other moments from your childhood. You think maybe most of them are subconsciously discarded from your mind in the hopes that you miss her less.

However, if you remember one thing about her, it’s the afterschool trips to Woolworths when she would swing you up high over her shoulders and sing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ by Stevie Wonder, making you feel as though you were a piercing arrow, soaring freely through the crisp summer sky. The memory brings a soft warmth to your chest, a fleeting connection to a time when life was simpler and filled with innocent joy. Maybe that’s why you keep the memory locked in your mind.

Heeseung sits for a minute, imagining what the world would be like without his own mum. She has been the backbone of everything he has ever done, and not having her there just seems unfathomable. He wouldn’t be as kind or generous, that’s for sure - his mum is a beacon of light to those she knows. During the time he has been on the run, he has often wondered what his parents have thought about the articles and radio snippets. But if he knows them well enough, which he does, he knows they’re fighting his corner somehow. This thought gives him a little bit of comfort throughout all of this turmoil.

But do you have anyone at ringside?

“What about your dad?” he pipes up, staring at the scissors in your hand rather than meeting your eyes, as if to make you feel more comfortable with his questions. He wants to subtly express that his queries are out of genuine curiosity and not an interrogation.

You pause for a moment, collecting your thoughts and decide how much you’re ready to tell Heeseung. Then it hits you - you feel so safe with Heeseung that you don’t wish to keep anything from him. The bond you both share is solid enough that divulging your family history and pain seems like the easiest thing in the world.

“My dad…” you begin, your voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. “He did his best after Mum died. But he wasn’t really equipped to handle raising two children on his own. He worked a lot, and when he was home, he was...distant. I think losing Mum broke something in him that he never managed to fix.”

You snip a bit more of Heeseung’s hair, your hands working almost automatically as your mind drifts through the past. “He tried his best but me and my big brother didn’t make it easy for him. My brother is a good person but he just got his soul a little lost, gave his heart to the wrong people and it caused so much fighting in the house that he eventually moved out when he was 16. He didn’t even bother to see me or write me a letter, he just, vanished.”

You have always wondered what happened to your brother, if he found his feet in the big bad world or if it swallowed him whole. There was one time you thought you saw him in Newcastle just by the train station when you were 13 on a school trip but the person was drunk and falling all over the place and you looked away before you could confirm; living in ignorance is easier than imagining your own family struggling.

“Then my dad just…stopped caring. He lost his job and stopped paying the bills,” you wince as you recall how hopeless your father had become. “I tried to help him but there was only so much a little girl can do before she also gives up hope.”

Heeseung knew you were strong, there wasn’t even a millimetre of his mind that thought otherwise, yet, hearing your past somehow brings him a whole new level of respect for you. Essentially, you were on your own your whole teenage years, the most formative and important time of your life and instead of being supported, you were supporting, looking after a man who couldn’t handle the cards that life dealt him.

“Your dad must be worried about you now, though,” Heeseung suggests, trying to find a silver lining amidst the dark clouds hanging over your conversation. But you shake your head, a sad and almost angry expression painting your face as you move to cut the layers into his shaggy hair.

“He cut ties with me once he found out what I was doing,” you scoff, though beneath the scorn, there is a breath of hurt. “He told every family member and friend we had and made sure they shut their doors in my face. He said I was a disgrace and that Mum would be ashamed of me, so I doubt he really gives a fuck.”

The bitterness in your words sends a shiver along Heeseung’s arms. It’s unfathomable to him how a father could turn his back on his daughter when she needed him more than ever. He knows no one turns to selling their body without hitting desperate times. His heart aches for you, and he finds himself wishing he could have been there to shield you from that pain.

It does beg the question that Heeseung has been wishing to ask you for so long. With you being so open and honest with him, this might be the best time to ask—you don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance again to settle his query.

“Why did you start…doing all of this?” he asks gently, his voice filled with genuine curiosity and concern, afraid his question might be imposing.

You pause, taking a deep breath, the scissors momentarily forgotten in your hand. “Money,” you begin to explain, the obvious answer sitting both of you in the face. “Me and Dad needed to make rent, so when I was just turning eighteen, I took any job I could. And let me tell you, there isn’t much out there for a girl with only a high school education.”

Struggling to find a job was something Heeseung had also encountered. However, he was lucky his dad ran a mechanic shop and would give him shifts when he desperately needed the cash between student loan payouts.

“I found this shitty pub near Camden that paid pennies, but it was a job, right? It did us good for the time, and then one day, I was complaining about money - I can’t remember why - and this punter comes up to me and says he knows a guy looking for a girl like me.”

The memory washes over you like a tidal wave, and you can almost smell the stale beer and hear the raucous laughter from the pub. The man was dressed in a suit and tie, clearly just off a busy 9-to-5 shift when he overheard your conversation with one of the other girls behind the bar. He snapped his fingers and called you over, telling you there was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse and promising to triple what you made bartending. What desperate person is going to turn that away?

“It was amazing money, enough to pay rent and the other bills - a little brothel with girls in need of cash like me. The girls were great; we all got along well, probably because we hated the guy who ran the place. I tell you, nothing brings people together more than a common enemy.”

“What did he do?” Heeseung asks gently, his voice a soothing balm to the raw wound you’re exposing.

“He stole our tips and took a cut for ‘room hire,’ which, by the way, was like half of the money,” you bitterly laugh, the sound hollow and filled with frustration. Thinking of all the money that prick owes you and your girls stirs a cauldron of anger inside you.

Heeseung twists his head to look at you, gobsmacked at the idea you were putting your body through god knows what, all to reap no real reward at the end of it. “That’s not fair. He can’t do that.”

“Well, he did. That’s why I left,” you state matter-of-factly, your voice a mixture of defiance and resignation.

The conversation leaves a heavy silence in the room. The snipping of the scissors is the only sound, but the air between you is charged with shared pain and understanding. Heeseung reaches out, his hand trembling slightly and places it over yours, stopping your movements for a moment.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N,” Heeseung says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of how deeply you’ve been hurt. He hopes the twinkle of respect and adoration he holds for you shines through. “You deserve to have a good life.”

Taking a deep breath, you feel the weight of your past lift slightly with his words. The encouragement and belief Heeseung has in you, even in these dire circumstances, is all you have ever wanted from someone. If one person could back you up and be there for you, you know you can make it through anything. That’s probably why you’re feeling hopeful throughout this chase.

“You better give me the best life possible then, Lee Heeseung, because I think you’re going to be tagging along for a long time,” you jab, injecting some lightheartedness into the deep conversation. It’s a nice way to punctuate your past, finally letting it all out in the open and getting it off your shoulders.

Heeseung blushes, the scarlet tone washing over his nose and cheeks with shyness. Even the prospect of tomorrow with you makes his heart race, never mind forever.

Almost finished cutting his hair with only the front left to do, you circle around and begin to trim the long bangs. Since he is sitting down on the burst maroon leather seat, you can’t properly see if you’re cutting it evenly or not. If you were in any way a professional, this would be a breeze, but for some reason, you keep cutting one side shorter than the other.

Taking initiative, you move your legs and straddle Heeseung, parking yourself on his thighs to bring you face-to-face with him. It’s the easiest solution to your problem; he’s too tall to stand up because you’ll be reaching, and he’s down too low in the chair. Secretly, it's also because baring your past and being vulnerable has made you a little clingy.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat as you settle onto his lap. The proximity makes his heart pound, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. You focus on your task, carefully trimming the bangs, but you’re acutely aware of how close you are to him. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, charged with unspoken emotions and the lingering tension between you. 

None of you have spoken about the strip club or what unfolded there and considering it’s been practically a week! you think someone would have said something. Instead of communicating about it, you both have lingering stares and steal subtle touches, rather than addressing the feelings you both felt.

Sure, it was lust driven but that’s a feeling that has been sitting at the surface of your chests, bubbling into something maybe just a little bit more.

Clenching his fists and releasing them, Heeseung is physically restraining himself from placing his hands on your hips, his mind screaming that he doesn’t deserve to lay his hands so casually on art as priceless and ethereal as you. Even when you’re in bed and snuggle up to him as you sleep peacefully, he takes a minute to convince himself that it’s okay to hug you into his chest, never feeling like it’s his right to.

It’s how he’s always felt about women, yet with you, it runs deeper than he’s ever experienced. The level of adoration and respect he has for you makes him want to treat you in a way no man has ever done before. You must be so exhausted with men constantly on you that he wants to show you he isn’t going to be like those men, not now, not ever.

Sensing his tensing frame underneath you, you withdraw the scissors from his hair and look at him with concern, afraid you’ve made him uncomfortable. However, as you see his flushed face and trembling eyes, you recognise the same shy boy you met two weeks ago.

“I thought we moved past being nervous with me?” you ask, feigning disapproval to lighten the mood.

Sighing loudly, Heeseung wipes his damp palms on his chest, trying to find a place for them that isn’t your body. “You forget that I’m still a virgin and you’re the prettiest girl on the planet; any man would be nervous in this situation.” His sincerity causes your heart to stop for a moment, the blood that would normally circulate now creeping up to your cheeks, leaving you both blushing messes.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over his compliments or how effortlessly they roll off his tongue. Deep inside, there is a space in your heart reserved for Heeseung, and you don’t know how he got there, but you’re not going to evict him any time soon.

Having him in your heart means you feel more towards him, and that includes emotions of guilt. You’ve never offered to sleep with him, and yes, you know he never expects you to, but part of you wants to. It’s not out of obligation but genuine desire.

However, there is a gnawing anxiety that if you do sleep with him, it will cause the universe to end this wild ride you’re on. You fear you’ll lose him after he pops his cherry, that the only reason he was fated to meet you was for that specific reason. What if, in some cruel joke, the stars drag him away from you? You can’t do any of this without him. He has become your pillar, and as soon as he is taken away, you’ll crumble.

With all these thoughts swirling in your mind, you can only give him a simple hum in acknowledgement, scared that if you open your mouth, you’ll say something silly and scare him. So you continue with your ministrations, cutting his fringe in such a way that it masks his face without completely covering those enchanting, dark eyes of his, the ones that pull you in without needing a second glance.

The room is charged with a subtle tension, but above all else, it’s clouded with serenity. You and Heeseung can sit in the silence of one another and enjoy it. Sharing tiny moments like this almost feels domestic. A large part of you wonders if this is what it feels like to be in a real relationship.

For years, you have longed to be held and loved for more than just your body. In no way do you regret the path you’ve chosen, not even after all of this, but you do wish you could have had the chance to experience just one loving relationship. To hold hands with someone just because you want to be close to them, hugging them in the home you share because your hearts are like two magnets that tremble for one another, and kissing them so tenderly on random Wednesday afternoons as you sit in Hyde Park, reminiscing about how you first met and how nothing in the world matters but the fire between you.

That is all you have ever wanted.

With a longing sigh, you snip the last piece of long hair from Heeseung’s head, inspecting your work for any room for improvement before you’re satisfied, then, you reach for the shitty portable mini hairdryer provided by the motel.

“Alright, let’s dry this off,” you say softly, turning on the hairdryer. The warm air hums gently as you work, ruffling Heeseung’s hair and smoothing it into place. He watches you through the mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

Heeseung likes to be looked after as much as he likes to make sure those he cherishes are also safeguarded. He knows that is the relationship you both have, one with give and take, although you more so give because that’s all you have ever known. Yet, as he looks at you now, he wants to change that. He wants to give back to you in ways no one ever has.

The room is heavy with unspoken promises and newfound understanding. You and Heeseung are intertwined in ways neither of you can fully comprehend, yet it feels right, like two lost souls finally finding a home in each other.

As you blow dry the last section, you run your fingers through it, hoping to style it a little but it’s proving difficult with the lack of products and how strangely soft Heeseung’s hair is; you wouldn’t think it went through two rounds of peroxide with lemon juice and a Crystal White hair dye. The pieces fall beautifully to the side of his face, the curtain bang vision you had in your head now coming to life before your eyes.

Finishing up, you switch off the hairdryer and place it back where it belongs before giving Heeseung's locks one final fix. You've never found men with white hair attractive, considering most of your old clients had the colour all over their bodies, but Heeseung looks like an angel straight out of the gates. The stark white hair contrasts beautifully with his darker brows and toned skin, complimenting him in a way that feels almost ethereal.

"All done," you announce, a proud smile spreading across your face as you admire your handiwork. You move off him, and both of you feel a sudden, stinging cold with the separation, your body almost instantly longing to be close to him once again.

He stands up and walks to the mirror to get a closer look. He crouches down, analysing his new reflection. He looks incredibly different, the long, flat, shabby hair he was once so proud of now a distant memory. The pure white threads of almost silk on his head transform his appearance completely. It's amazing what you managed to do with so few resources.

"Y/N, this is...really good," he says, his smile widening as he checks himself out, genuinely impressed. For the first time in a long while, he admires his own reflection. Despite the tired circles under his eyes, they remain wide and vibrant, possibly because he has had the opportunity to spend all morning with you, doing normal, young adult things.

No running, no fear, just the two of you together.

Cocking an eyebrow, you cross your arms in mock offence. "Are you surprised?" you ask, trying to mimic a serious tone despite the small smile on your face, a chuckle bubbling at the surface as you watch his eyes light up and his fingers carefully fix his sideburns.

After about a minute of self-ogling, Heeseung twists around to face you, grimacing as he sucks in his breath and tenses his neck in a fake display of apology. "Is it rude to say yes?"

Tutting, you reach over and punch his arm with more force than you intended, expressing your mock annoyance at his insinuation, even though you know he doesn't truly mean it.

"Ow!" he yelps, instinctively going to hold the now aching muscle of his arm. Pouting, he rubs it roughly to dispel the pain, massaging the nerves that are jittering inside. "You've got some punch on you."

"Yeah, well, I'll use it again if you ever doubt me," you threaten, your voice wavering with a slight giggle. He really is so fragile; you wonder how he's managed to survive living 22 years in this world.

Turning your attention to the mess behind you, you take the scissors and put them back in their case, cleaning up the hair around you. You brush his dead ends lazily with your foot; not the most conventional way to tidy up, but you aren't exactly equipped with a portable brush and shovel. 

Heeseung packs the clothes into the bags you got for 50p out of a charity shop, stealing glances at you as he works. Over the weeks you’ve spent together, he’s come to admire how you never complain, no matter the task. Even now, as you brush up his hair, you don’t grumble when it sticks to your socks. Instead, you wipe it away with ease.

Of course, the task isn’t arduous, but it’s a small example of your resilience. When he asked you to dye his hair and cut it, or even when you were at the strip club, you never once expressed annoyance. You simply got on with what needed to be done.

He finds it admirable, this quiet toughness you possess. It’s a strength he wishes he had inside him. Throughout this journey, he’s often complained about how hungry he is, or how hard it is to sleep on cold floors. And every time, you’ve reassured him, telling him it’ll be okay, giving him something to look towards, even though you were feeling the same way.

Heeseung can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You’ve done so much for him and he’s been too wrapped up in his own discomfort to fully appreciate it. He wants to tell you how much he admires you, and how much your strength means to him, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he swallows hard and focuses on the task at hand, determined to help in any way he can.

When you finally finish cleaning up, you look up and catch his eye. Heeseung gives you a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift. In that brief exchange, so much is conveyed without words. He wants to be better, to be stronger for you, just as you’ve been for him.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not just for the haircut, but for everything - for being his rock, his comfort, his guide through the darkness.

You smile back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Anytime,” you reply, and you mean it. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, nothing you wouldn’t face together. “Now, do you have your stuff? We need to leave for the bus soon,” you swiftly change the subject.

Heeseung scrunches his features before he quickly releases them, understanding what you mean. Rummaging through the bag in front of him, he quickly retrieves a baseball cap which he puts on carefully to avoid ruining your work, and places a pair of silver-rimmed, oval glasses on his face. “All ready!” He turns to you, the palm of his hand under his chin as he showcases the excellent disguise that he has conjured up. 

Taking in his new appearance, you realise two things: one, you finally understand why people find it difficult to identify Superman as Clark Kent, glasses doing more for disguises than any mask could; he was right about hiding in plain sight, but you’ll never admit it. And two, he looks fucking beautiful.

The hat that makes his ears poke out just a little bit more than usual, the glasses that somehow cover yet accentuate his eyes, paired with the oversized AC/DC t-shirt, baggy Denim Co. jeans, and the trainers he has been wearing this entire time, he looks like something straight out of the ‘your next crush’ section in POP! Magazine. 

Biting your lip subconsciously, your eyes trail his body, your pupils shaking in need. Maybe you have enough time to push him onto the bed and jump-

“You good?” Heeseung asks, a half frown working on his face. 

Shaking your head from the lewd thoughts, you smile, taking your bag from the place on the bed beside him. “Let’s go.”

_____

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Heeseung’s eyes dart around the crowded bus with palpable trepidation, fearing someone might recognise you both. It's his first time using his alias, "Evan," and despite your reassurances that his new appearance is enough to deter recognition, he's planned an elaborate backstory complete with trivia about his fabricated life, including bonus rounds. He doesn’t know when someone might ask him in which primary school his fake grandmother attended, but he has the answer locked and loaded.

His hand is gripping yours tightly, the sweat from his nerves now creating a tiny swimming pool in your connected palms. He doesn’t mean to get clammy but the idea of coming so far and having it foiled on a National Express bus on the outskirts of Ayr is putting him on edge.

You don’t seem to notice his sweaty hands or the elderly woman watching you from across the aisle. Instead, your attention is captivated by the breathtaking Scottish countryside passing by outside the window. The rolling hills of Ayr are adorned with lush greenery, dotted with clusters of ancient trees that sway gently in the breeze.

The bus winds through narrow roads flanked by dry stone walls and vibrant patches of wildflowers. Highland cows, with their shaggy coats and long, curved horns, graze lazily in the pastures. Oh, to be a cow in another life, munching grass all day long without a care in the world. The notion amuses you, and you imagine that maybe, if you're reincarnated, you can come back as one of these peaceful creatures.

The scenery outside is so tranquil that you easily lose yourself in the views. The mountains, the serene lochs, and the quaint cottages all work together to quiet your mind, offering a brief respite from the constant anxiety that has followed you for weeks. For a moment, everything feels right.

However, as soon as something unusual catches your eye, your brain shifts back into gear, thoughts twirling with curiosity. You sit up straight, eyes narrowing to focus. Amidst the idyllic landscape, something stands out - a stark contrast to the beauty surrounding it.

An old, rusty, clearly abandoned theme park appears on the horizon. The sign, once vibrant with its yellow and red paint, now faded and peeling, spells out the name ‘Joyland.’ But there is nothing joyous about the place. The park has clearly been deserted for at least 15 years, left to the mercy of time and nature.

Theme parks are something younger you could only dream of, your dad insisting that it was too far away and too expensive. You understand him a little better now that you’re older, however, that doesn’t quench the little girl inside you and her thirst for the excitement of a Maze of Mirrors or Waltzers.

With a twinkle in your eye and a quickening of your heartbeat, you push Heeseung to stand up in the aisle. He protests slightly, letting out a surprised 'whoa' and a grunt, but you ignore him, clasping his hand tightly in yours. Fighting against the slippery sweat that threatens to break your grip, you drag him towards the front of the bus.

Heeseung's heart plummets, his anxiety boiling over as people start to notice your sudden movement. He tries to reason with you, urging you to return to your seats and abandon whatever impulsive idea has sparked this rush. 

But his pleas fall on deaf ears. By the time his voice filters through to you, you're already tapping the bus driver's shoulder with feigned panic. “Sir, can you pull over, please?” you ask, your voice sweet yet tinged with urgency.

“No can do, Hen. The bus doesn’t stop until we get to Troon,” he explains calmly, giving you a glance through the rearview mirror.

“Please, my boyfriend is going to be sick, and I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s journey,” you plead. The excuse is thin, but if there’s one thing a bus driver hates more than being late, it’s dealing with a sick passenger.

The driver’s eyes widen and he flusters slightly. “Well, there are bags under the seat. Take one of them.”

“It’s not going to be enough. He’s had a drink or two, and you know what that’s like,” you say, your lips forming into a pout as you try anything to get the bus to stop. The longer you stand begging, the further the theme park recedes into the distance.

You elbow Heeseung roughly. The unexpected blow makes him hunch over, breath catching in his throat and eyes bulging slightly. It's the perfect reaction to convince the driver, who nods quickly, his concern outweighing his schedule. “Yes, alright, but only for a minute,” he concedes, flicking the indicator to pull to the left-hand side.

Mentally, you praise Heeseung for his overdramatic reactions to pain. His theatrical flair, usually a source of amusement when he overreacts to a bump or a stepped-on foot, has come in handy. No one can ever say that being dramatic gets you nowhere.

As the bus pulled to a stop, a surge of triumph coursed through you. The driver swung open the creaky door, and you stepped off, immediately feeling the brisk Scottish air kiss your face. Heeseung stumbled behind you, trying to navigate the steep steps of the bus as you tugged him along.

“Are you mad?” Heeseung whispered, his grip tightening on your hand, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. He glanced around, searching for any sign of reason in your decision to abandon the bus for an impromptu adventure through the countryside.

“Maybe,” you replied with a grin, the thrill of spontaneity evident in your voice. Glancing over Heeseung’s shoulder to the bus driver, you flashed a polite smile. “You go ahead, we’ll walk. He could use the fresh air,” you shouted, waving off any objections.

Before the driver could protest, you were already sprinting back in the direction the bus had come from, dragging the bewildered Heeseung behind you. He stumbled at first but quickly matched your pace, his curiosity piqued despite his confusion. The bus pulled away, leaving you both standing at the roadside, free from the constraints of scheduled travel.

“Y/N, where are we going?” Heeseung gasped, breathless from the unexpected burst of activity.

“Just come on, we’re almost there!” you called back over your shoulder, excitement shining in your eyes and a wide grin spreading across your face.

Heeseung caught a glimpse of your infectious enthusiasm and decided to trust in your lead, letting go of his worries and focusing instead on keeping up with you.

As you approached the entrance to Joyland, you slowed your pace, causing Heeseung to nearly collide with your back. He stops himself, grasping your arm to steady both of you. The gates before you are weathered and rusted, the once vibrant red paint now faded and peeling. Vines snaked through the gaps in the iron bars, reclaiming the space that had been abandoned to time.

Heeseung looks up and tilts his head, “Y/N what are we doing here?”

Wistfully, you let go of his hand and walk towards the gates, assessing just how easy it would be to get into the park. Luckily, it is held together with a flimsy lock that could easily be broken with a rock and some force. 

Looking around and ignoring Heeseung’s answer for now, you search for something hard enough to break the padlock with, the ground around you is scattered with lots of handy things; Buckfast bottles, old shoes which you don’t even dare ask how they ended up here, scared of the answer it might bring, and then the golden ticket; a brick that had fallen from the wall that surrounded the park.

Grabbing it, you almost skip back to the entrance, happy that in just one swing, you’ll be accomplishing a dream of yours, even if you can’t complete it in its entirety. You lift your arm up, grasping tight on the ash-red brick before hammering it down. The first time doesn’t work, only rattling the metal against the steel, so persistent as ever, you try again and again until finally, the contraption falls to the ground with a tiny thud. 

Heeseung watches you from afar, shoulders tense from the sound of the breaking lock and your grunts. You must really want in there and he will be damned if he tries to stop you. He wants to pose the question again, wondering what could be so exciting about a shitty theme park that hasn’t seen any joy despite its name in a decade, but you answer it for him.

“I’ve never been to one of these before,” you speak in a hushed tone, scared to disrupt the silence that carries through the wind.

“It’s shut down, Y/N,” Heeseung states the obvious, now standing behind you.

Craning your neck, you look up at him and smile. “Just means there are no queues.”

Pushing open the creaking gate and finally stepping inside, the sound echoes through the stillness of the park. The path ahead is overgrown with wildflowers and weeds, the cracked pavement obscured by nature's reclamation. An old carousel stands in the distance, its paint long gone and its horses frozen in time, a melancholy reminder of days gone by.

The entrance to Joyland is eerily inviting, with pretty moss creeping up the dilapidated ticket booth and the once-bright sign now dulled by years of neglect. The Ferris wheel, its gondolas now chipped and weathered, stands motionless against the backdrop of a clear sky. The roller coaster tracks, twisted and overgrown with weeds, snake their way through the park, hinting at the thrills they once offered.

“Look at this place,” you whisper, awe and curiosity mixing in your voice. “It’s like stepping into a forgotten world.”

Heeseung nods, his eyes scanning the beautifully tragic surroundings. “Yeah, it’s kinda sad to see it like this. It would have been nice for you to see it in its glory,” he says softly.

Having visited countless theme parks in his lifetime, Heeseung can vividly imagine what Joyland used to be like: vibrant with colour, the laughter of children echoing as they dashed away from their parents to ride attractions they were barely tall enough for, and the mingling scents of carnival foods creating a unique aroma of nostalgia.

You both wander through the deserted park, taking in the sights, walking side by side in a peaceful silence. However, Heeseung can’t shake off the feeling of being watched, perhaps because the openness of the area leaves nowhere to hide. There are rides and booths, but someone could easily spot you both if they looked hard enough.

“It’s too exposed here, Y/N. Let’s just go,” he warns, his eyes darting to a moving shadow he’s convinced is real and not just a figment of his imagination. The happiness of imagined memories quickly washes away as he sees what the park really is: a derelict site filled with discarded needles and abandoned rides.

You notice his unease, the way his eyes shift nervously, and know he’s seconds away from dragging you back to the bus. But if this is your only chance to experience a theme park, you’re willing to use every bit of charm you have.

Fluttering your eyelashes and jutting out your lip, you gaze up at him with a pleading expression. “Hee, please,” you begin, taking his hand and swinging it gently. “Just for five minutes?” You cringe inwardly at your own performance but are willing to act the part for the chance to stay - it’ll be worth the bruise in your pride.

Heeseung’s fear is chipped away at your pleas. It’s so ridiculous how easy men are to trick in this day and age, particularly a virgin who is in hook, line, and sinker for you.

“Alright, five minutes,” he finally concedes, sighing deeply. You beam up at him, gratitude and excitement flooding your heart. 

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, you place a kiss on his cheek, eliciting a pink blush to form on his him. Unlike the other times he’s gone flushed in the face, this isn’t of embarrassment but rather contentment and glee.

Maybe this is Joyland after all.

“There’s a haunted house over there, let's go!” you exclaim, pointing to the weathered, foreboding structure looming in the distance.

Maybe he was too quick with his thoughts.

Heeseung swallows hard, trying to mask his apprehension with a weak smile. "Sure," he replies, his voice wavering slightly. He squeezes your hand for reassurance, more for his sake than yours, as you both make your way towards the haunted house.

The building looks like it’s been pulled straight out of a horror film. The once grand entrance is now covered in ivy and the wooden doors hang loosely on their hinges. The paint is chipped and faded, the windows are cracked and clouded with grime, and the sign above the door, which once read ‘House of Horrors’ is barely legible. The wind whistles through the gaps, adding an eerie melody to the desolate ambience.

You step inside first, the floorboards creaking under your weight. Heeseung hesitates at the threshold, his eyes darting around nervously. The light from outside filters through the broken windows, casting long shadows that seem to dance and shift. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before following you inside.

The air inside the haunted house is stale and thick with dust. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the smell of dampness and decay lingers, infiltrating your nose and causing you to wince. The first room you enter is a foyer of sorts, with tattered red curtains hanging from the walls and a decrepit chandelier swaying gently above. An old grandfather clock stands in the corner, its hands frozen at midnight.

Heeseung keeps a tight grip on your hand, his eyes scanning every corner for signs of movement. "This place is...something," he mutters, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

You squeeze his hand back, giving him a reassuring smile. "Come on, it's just a bit of fun," you say, leading him further into the house.

The next room is even darker, with the only guidance of your steps being from the room before. You can barely make out the shapes of old furniture covered in white sheets, some stained with what you hope is fake blood. Suddenly, a gust of wind slams a door shut behind you, causing Heeseung to jump, his heart travelling from its rightful place in his chest to his throat.

He lets out a nervous laugh, quickly trying to cover it up. "That was just the wind," he says, more to himself than to you.

You nod, suppressing a giggle. "Of course it was," you agree, though you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. The atmosphere of the haunted house is getting to you too, despite your brave front. Despite your eagerness to enter the haunted attraction, you hate to admit that you aren’t feeling the best right now, your heart a ticking bomb. 

If you were to go into this house when it was up and running, scare actors and life still instilled within the dark corners then maybe you would feel a little better, but the more you venture into the darkness, the less sturdy your legs are.

In one room, you come across a dusty old mirror, the vision of you and Heeseung echoing back to you, plastering a reassured smile on your face. Both of you look nothing like yourselves yet next to one another, you feel like you’ve found who you’re supposed to be.

As you approach it, a ghostly figure suddenly appears in the reflection, reaching out towards you. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around Heeseung’s waist and quickly facing away from it, burying your face into his chest. 

He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, wrapping his free arm around you protectively. Although he also got a fright, he feels himself needing to protect you as a way to pay you back for every time you’ve looked after him. Granted, he wishes it could be something a bit more substantial than a trick mirror but it will do for now.

"It's okay, it's just a trick," Heeseung murmurs, trying to comfort you even as his own heart races, squeezing you tighter. He can feel your body trembling against his, and it takes everything in him to project calmness, to be the anchor you need right now.

“I… don’t like this anymore, Heeseung,” you admit, looking up at him. The dim light casts shadows across his face, but you can still make out the worry etched into his features. You seek comfort in his familiarity, trying to steady your racing heart. Something in your gut tells you to get out of this place, and after ignoring your instincts that fateful day two weeks ago, you refuse to disregard them ever again.

Heeseung nods, rubbing your back soothingly. "We'll find a way out," he promises, his eyes scanning the area for any beacon of light to guide you both. But all he stumbles upon is another door. "I think we’ll need to keep going for now."

It's the worst thing he could say, but you understand he's right. The only way out of here is forward, the door behind you stuck firmly shut.

To ease the tension, Heeseung chuckles slightly. “You know, I didn’t think you were scared of anything,” he chats, trying to keep you distracted as he opens the door to a new, unexplored room.

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” you confess. Your guard is up against the house, but down for Heeseung. After opening up about your past, the wall around your heart doesn't feel the need to rebuild itself. The boy currently holding you under his arm has taken your defences down piece by piece, and you don't hate him for it one bit.

With a look of surprise, his eyes settle on your delicate face as he processes your response. “Really? Like what?” He’s not trying to be intrusive; he just genuinely didn’t think you had any.

“I can’t tell you that,” you laugh, the tension in your body melting slightly, even as you face an old life-sized doll trapped in a box. Your fears are personal, and you believe that speaking them into existence might make them come true. There are two fears trapped inside you that you wish never to see the light of day.

Unravelling yourself from Heeseung’s strong embrace, you timidly approach the looming figure in the box. Its lifelike form is so realistic that you might have mistaken it for a real person. The glass is dusty, and the top right corner has been shattered by something small but mighty. You can’t believe your eyes.

“Heeseung, come here,” you beckon him, your hand gesturing for him to step forward and see what you’re seeing. “Doesn’t this doll look like you?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Heeseung had a twin. The doll has the same eyes, nose, and pretty pink lips.

Examining the box, Heeseung reads out loud, “Have your wishes granted by the doll that knows your deepest desires.” He whispers softly, scared that it might be some spell to wake the creepy doll. It does look scarily like him, except this doll has cherry-red hair and dead eyes.

He takes off his glasses and stands next to it. “It really is me, huh?”

Clasping a hand over your mouth, you widen your eyes, taking in the side-by-side comparison. “Hee, that is you, down to your long lashes!” Your eyes dart between them both as you view them.

It's scary, but what's more daunting is staying in this creepy house any longer. You rid your thoughts of any ideas that a shapeshifter has stolen Heeseung’s body and placed it in the comically large doll box, gladly walking away from it.

Giving it one last stare, Heeseung sighs. “I hope someone finds you and gives you a good life.” He wishes the doll a farewell and walks behind you, the unease in his chest dissipating slightly as he follows your determined steps.

Taking the lead, Heeseung opens the next door once again, yet, instead of a room, you’re met with a long, pitch-black corridor that seems to stretch on forever with no end in sight. The air is thick, almost suffocating, and the faint echo of his footsteps reverberates through the darkness.

“I say we run through it,” you suggest, your voice echoing off the walls and adding to the eerie atmosphere. It's not your favourite choice, but you know there's a good chance the exit is right ahead.

Heeseung nods, focusing ahead. “We are good at running,” he jokes, causing you both to laugh. The eerie space fills with a haunting joy, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that has surrounded you.

Holding out your hand, you offer it to Heeseung. “On the count of three?”

“Three.”

Without a chance to comprehend what he says, Heeseung locks his fingers with yours and starts running, the sudden burst leaving you trailing behind him. Despite the darkness and the unknown ahead, you can't help but laugh, letting him lead you to safety. The adrenaline rush and the sound of your combined laughter make the moment surreal and oddly comforting.

Heeseung glances back at you despite only making out the shadow of you, the only light leaking from the room you were previously in. There's a moment where he can see the smile on your face and it causes his heart to pit a pat in his chest. 

The corridor isn't actually that long, or maybe it’s the fun you’re having, but soon enough you’re both crashing through an emergency exit door, chests rising and falling with laughter and excitement. You feel like a kid again, running around without a care in the world, free from any negative thoughts or the wear and tear that adulthood has bestowed upon you.

The cool, fresh air hits your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating darkness inside. You never thought you would be happy to see the British skies before, suddenly admiring the beauty around you, despite the less-than-attractive surroundings. The contrast between the open, airy countryside and the eerie, claustrophobic house is stark, filling you with a newfound appreciation for the simplicity of the outdoors.

Stealing a glance at Heeseung, you notice how his face, although red from the cardio, looks so different. His eyes are lit up like a child at a Christmas market, his face visibly younger, and there is an air to him you haven’t seen before. He has always been beautiful, but now he looks pure and wholesome, his mind no longer bombarded with anxiety, nerves, or whatever else goes on inside that pretty head of his. The relief and exhilaration from escaping the haunted house paired with a moment of child-like freedom has brought out a serene glow in him.

Heeseung’s eyes meet yours as he straightens his back, his muscles relaxed now that he feels safe. "Now I know why people run through horror games," he chuckles, but his words are lost in the sweeping air, and you fail to register them, still caught in your reverie.

Your silence isolates you both, prompting Heeseung to examine you more closely. Maybe you're in shock from the scare the house gave you, or perhaps you're gathering your breath. He finds it unusual for you to be so quiet. You're just looking at him, lost in contemplation, with an inscrutable face that makes his smile fade somewhat.

"What is it? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with worry, his hand gently squeezing yours.

It takes you a minute to realise you’re staring at him, your brain clouded with so many thoughts and realisations that it shuts down for a moment. The overwhelming affection you feel for him leaves you momentarily speechless. Never in your life has a man rendered you incapable of basic human functions. The way he looks in the summer sun, the ease with which he’s starting to smile, makes your heart flutter in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Finally, you shake your head slightly, breaking free from your trance. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you murmur, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Let’s…go find another ride.” Changing the subject seems to be your only way out, so you use the whiplash as your opportunity to bolt before he asks something else.

“Hey, wait!” he shouts behind you in an attempt to slow you down, but you’re already steadily running towards the middle of the park. The crunch of gravel under your shoes is the only sound accompanying your rapid footsteps, the eerie silence of the abandoned amusement park amplifying every movement.

Your eyes scan over the abundance of left-to-die rides, mourning for them as you think about how they have been forced to remain stagnant. Surely they could have been reused somewhere else? Why is it that these particular machines weren’t good enough? The sight of rusted Ferris wheels and dilapidated roller coasters, their once vibrant colours now faded and peeling, tugs at your heartstrings. 

As you weave through the overgrown pathways, you stumble upon something that catches your eye - a tunnel with a large, heart-shaped archway. The sign above it reads “Tunnel of Love,” but there’s no water in the canal below due to sunshine and abandonment. The boats that once floated gently along the waterway now sit dry and cracked, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The wooden planks of the dock are warped and splintered, evidence of the neglect they’ve suffered.

Stepping closer, you peer into the tunnel. The walls inside are decorated with faded murals of romantic scenes: lovers in rowboats under a starlit sky, holding hands as they drift through enchanted landscapes. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and mildew, the remnants of the once-glistening water now a distant memory. The cracked and dry canal floor, once a pathway for swaying boats, now lies abandoned, its purpose long forgotten.

Heeseung finally catches up, panting heavily. “Y/N, please don’t run away like that. Anyone or anything could be out here,” he scolds softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. He gives you a once-over, ensuring you haven't been hurt, scanning your form, checking for any signs of injury or distress. The thought of a rabid animal or some hidden danger lurking in the shadows sends a shiver down his spine. The idea of you being harmed, even by a scratch, is enough to send him into an anxious panic. He doesn’t even want to think about the state he would be in if you suddenly got caught by the police.

You see the worry etched on his face and feel a pang of guilt for making him anxious. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you say softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just…this place, it’s so fascinating in its own way.” You daren’t tell him it has anything to do with your mixed up feelings.

Heeseung’s expression softens at your words. “I know, it’s just…we have to be careful. This place is falling apart, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His eyes, full of concern, meet yours, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest at his protectiveness.

“I guess this is the wrong time to ask if we can go through the tunnel?” you sheepishly ask, hoping that he will say yes to your request. You have always wanted to go through a love tunnel, even just once.

Heeseung sets his focus down the dark tunnel and pouts slightly in thought. “Does it even still work?”

That is a question you don’t have even the tiniest speck of an answer for, but you can make the assumption that the correct one would be a hard no. Your face forms into a disappointed frown, your hopes of experiencing the ride now dismal.

Upon seeing your disappointment, Heeseung refuses to watch the excitement die inside of you. His mind races, desperate to find a way to make this moment special for you. Glancing around, his eyes catching sight of an old, weathered booth tucked away to the side.

“Wait here for a second, I’ll see if I can get it working,” he says, determination setting in as he walks over to the booth. The structure is small and dilapidated, with a sign above it that reads ‘Operator’. Heeseung pushes open the creaky door and steps inside, brushing away the cobwebs that cling to his shirt. The air is stale, filled with the scent of dust and decay, but he’s undeterred, thankful he is only scared of women and not spiders.

Inside, a control panel covered in grime greets him. It is a chaotic array of buttons, switches, and levers, each labelled with faded, barely legible text. Heeseung squints, trying to make sense of the worn labels: “Start,” “Stop,” “Lights,” “Music,” “Emergency.” He has no idea how to operate the machinery, but the thought of seeing you happy drives him forward.

Heeseung’s fingers hover over the buttons, hesitant. “Okay, let's see,” he mutters to himself, trying to recall any fragments of knowledge about old amusement park rides. He presses the “Start” button, hoping for some sign of life. A low hum fills the booth, and the old, rusted mechanisms of the tunnel creak in protest as they start to move.

Peering out of the booth, he sees a few of the dim fairy lights flicker to life inside the tunnel. The ancient bulbs struggle but manage to cast a faint, romantic glow along the pathway. Heeseung’s heart races with a mix of excitement and anxiety, hoping this will work.

He looks back at the panel and flips the switch labelled “Music.” A scratchy, old recording of a love song begins to play, the sound wavering but still charming in its vintage way. He can’t help but smile, imagining how you must be feeling right now.

“Oh my god, Hee, it’s on!” Heeseung's heart swells as he hears your delighted squeal echoing through the air. Despite the dusty and bug-infested surroundings of the booth, seeing you so excited makes every moment worthwhile. He steps out, wiping his hands on his shirt to rid them of the grime, and walks over to where you're standing by the entrance to the love tunnel.

Your face lights up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with joy. The soft glow of the tunnel's lights illuminates your features, casting a warm, romantic aura around you both. Heeseung can't help but smile back at you, his own happiness mirroring yours.

"I told you I would try," Heeseung says playfully, a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he glances towards the tunnel entrance. Inside, the flickering lights cast dancing shadows on the cracked walls, and the faint strains of the love song create an unexpectedly enchanting atmosphere.

"And I’ll never doubt you again," you reply with a bright smile, nudging him gently with your shoulder. "Can we just walk through it?" you ponder, noting the absence of water and the cracked boat that would have carried you through a dreamy water ride.

Heeseung chuckles softly at your playful nudge, feeling a warmth spread through him at your words of trust and appreciation. He meets your gaze, seeing sincerity and excitement shining through, and nods enthusiastically.

"Of course we can. Who’s going to stop us? Security?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Taking the leap, Heeseung gracefully jumps down into the tunnel, his lanky limbs giving him an effortless advantage. The worn, pool-like ground beneath him feels sturdy underfoot as he kicks away empty vodka bottles and shattered glass.

"Come on," he beckons with a gentle smile, his fingers curling inward to encourage you to join him in the deep space below.

Trusting in Heeseung’s ability to catch you, you sit on the edge and wait for him to position himself below. Heeseung stands ready with his arms outstretched, prepared to catch you. A wave of excitement and nervousness wells up in your chest. His sweet smile and supportive gesture fortify your resolve as you prepare to plunge. 

“It’s okay, just jump, I’ll catch you,” he assures, his face conveying unwavering confidence in his ability to protect you. His voice, serene and certain, echoes gently in the tranquillity of the abandoned attraction.

His eyes never leave yours, filled with a warmth that melts away any lingering doubts. In that moment, his faith in your safety gives you the courage you need to push off the ledge. You’re not scared of heights, just of falling.

You propel yourself forward, the world momentarily blurring around you as gravity takes hold. The rush of wind fills your ears, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before you feel Heeseung's strong arms enveloping you. His embrace is secure and comforting, anchoring you safely in his grasp.

As you settle into his arms, a wave of relief washes over you, adrenaline slowly giving way to a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. Heeseung holds you close, his touch gentle yet firm, as if reassuring himself of your safety. His embrace is tighter than necessary, his hands cradling you protectively, and you feel the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours.

“See? I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a quiet strength and reassurance.

You blush slightly, grateful for his stability as you take a step back, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin, mingling with the surge of emotions coursing through you. Your dynamic shifts significantly in this moment; his confidence and reassurance are new, as is your sudden desire to shy away and twirl your hair.

Standing there, relishing the warmth of the moment, Heeseung softly extends his hand to you as a quiet invitation. His eyes, gentle and comforting, meet yours, softly indicating that he is ready whenever you are. The air around you seems to shimmer with the remnants of the love song echoing softly from the tunnel, adding to the novel ambience.

You peek down at his hand, which looks strong and welcoming. Without hesitation, you reach out, your fingers naturally linking with his. 

Heeseung gives you a pleasant grin, his attention shifting to the tunnel entrance. "Shall we?" he says softly, his tone full of optimism and wonder. His grasp on your hand is firm yet kind, guiding you towards the darker entryway where pink-hued lights flicker and dance against the walls.

Taking a deep breath, you respond with a nod and a broad smile. Together, you enter the tunnel, the ground beneath your feet reverberating softly with each step.

The enchanting atmosphere grows as you and Heeseung venture deeper into the tunnel. The warm lights cast a soft glow on the forgotten walls, illuminating the path ahead with a dreamlike quality. You notice faded murals depicting whimsical scenes of enchanted forests and mythical creatures, their vibrant colours still peeking through despite years of neglect.

The tunnel widens into a larger chamber, revealing remnants of the once-grand attraction. Rusted railings and dilapidated boats lie abandoned, adding to the sense of forgotten magic. You can almost hear the echoes of laughter and the gentle splashes of water that once filled the air.

Heeseung watches you with a delighted smile as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder. He enjoys seeing you like this, so full of curiosity and excitement. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment for you.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. "It's like stepping into another world," you reply, your voice filled with awe. 

There must have been thousands of couples who road down this exact path, hearts filled with love for their partners as they took in the different scenes meant to exhibit different kinds of love; a fairyland garden that depicted an elf picking a daisy for his faerie girlfriend, different forest animals around a campfire, each paired with their own lover.

The two of you explore the different sections of the attraction, each one more fascinating than the last. One passageway leads to a room filled with intricate mechanical contraptions, once part of a grand clockwork display. 

In another area, you discover a garden-themed section, where overgrown vines and flowers have taken over, creating a beautiful, natural tapestry. The scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the dusty corridors you navigated earlier. Heeseung picks a small, wildflower and tucks it behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You're even more beautiful than the flowers," he says softly, causing you to blush and smile shyly. Heeseung can feel his fingers tremble slightly but he keeps his confident manner, pushing away his virgin nerves for a minute to give you the experience you deserve.

He is so sweet and you thank the heavens for allowing you to experience this tunnel with him.

Your journey takes you to the heart of the attraction, where a grand stage still stands. The stage is adorned with tattered curtains and faded decorations, but you can easily imagine the grandeur it once held. Before you stands a scene depicting a king and queen sitting proudly on their thrones, hands raised in a waving gesture, greeting their subjects with glee as they hold hands.

“I wanna get a closer look,” you say, your eyes glued to the regal couple. Heeseung nods and follows you without hesitation. “Can you boost me up?” you ask, glancing at the steep wall separating you from the display.

Nodding with an agreeable smile, Heeseung walks over to the wall and kneels beside it, his hands crossed on his knee to create a platform for you to step on. He thanks himself for playing Tomb Raider one too many times, giving him the knowledge to assist you properly without making it awkward.

Offering him a quick thanks, you place your foot on his hands and he lifts you up effortlessly. Your arms shake slightly as you pull yourself onto the platform, but you manage to steady yourself and take in the intricate details of the royal figures.

From your elevated vantage point, you can see the exquisite craftsmanship of the display, each feature carefully carved to bring the king and queen to life. The sight takes your breath away, and you share your amazement with Heeseung, who watches you with a proud smile.

"It's even more incredible up close," you say, your voice filled with awe. 

Wanting to get in on the action, Heeseung searches around, looking for something to help him up to the platform that you seem so amazed by. There isn’t much but rubbish and some strewn, soggy leaves. He would ask you for a hand up but he’s scared he’ll drag you right back down again.

Pacing the area, he finally comes across a ladder which has obviously fallen from the wall, with sections of the steps missing, the rust from the metal enough to make his skin crawl as he thinks about all the time he refused to get a tetanus shot at the doctor's; oh, how that would come in handy now.

Heeseung chooses to take the risk, picking it up and placing it against the wall before hastily mounting it, fearful that it will slip and he'll end up with more damage than lockjaw. 

Fortunately for him, he gets up relatively easily and can finally join you in the delight. His eyes scan the scene before him, and he realises why you were so determined to make it up here. The slight flush on the queen's cheeks and the king's adoring stare at his wife epitomise love, showcasing their devotion as though they were real people.

Whoever made this park put time and effort into every small detail. It’s a shame entire generations will miss out on it.

Timidly, you walk over to the dolls, a lingering fear that they might come to life still gripping you. The haunted house has left your nerves frayed, making everything seem like a potential threat. However, they sit obediently in place, their eyes unmoving and thankfully unbothered as you begin to move them, eager to sit on the throne they possess.

Gently, you place them on the ground beside one another, ensuring they remain together. You turn to the throne and feel the material, testing its sturdiness to make sure you don’t fall through when you sit.

Heeseung watches you with a mix of amusement and admiration. "I think it's safe," he says, offering a reassuring smile, his hand outstretched to guide you to the seat.

You take a deep breath and carefully lower yourself onto the throne. To your relief, it holds firm, and you find yourself seated in the seat of royalty. The sensation is surreal, almost making you feel powerful, and you realise why the monarchy insists on these comically massive chairs.

“Imagine being the queen,” you muse aloud, rubbing the armrests as you commit every fine detail to memory. The intricate carvings of flowers and vines shine back at you as you unintentionally clean away the buildup of dust.

“I’d vote for you,” Heeseung replies, admiring the sight of you seated on the throne.

You look up at him with confusion. “Heeseung, it’s the Prime Minister we vote for, not the queen,” you say, wondering how on earth he confused the two.

He scratches his arm, a nervous habit of his when he feels even the tiniest bit embarrassed. “Oh, well…I’d still vote for you to rule the world somehow,” he says sheepishly, his eyes falling to the floor. He wishes he could pretend he didn't get them mixed up, but in his mind, they all merge together, perhaps due to years of neglect by both parties.

You giggle and swing your feet, enjoying normalcy for once. It reminds you of the conversations you had with the girls, helping one another to learn even the most obvious things. One of them once asked if Essex was a continent, and you had to gently explain cities and countries.

You took those times for granted.

The music suddenly changes to a softer melody, like one from a jewellery box, pulling you back to the present. The beautiful sound carries an air of love around you, filling the tunnel with a tender, enchanting atmosphere.

Heeseung also notices the change and sees the quiet excitement on your face, the elation evident in your eyes. The corners of your lips turn up in a smile, showing him how much you love the song.

Offering you his hand, he bows slightly. "Would the queen like to dance?" he asks, his embarrassment and nerves dissipating as he watches your reaction.

"The queen would be honoured," you reply with a playful smile, taking his hand and standing up. The two of you move into a waltzing position, or at least as close as two amateurs can manage.

Heeseung's hand rests gently on your waist, and you place yours on his shoulder. Your feet move in tandem with his, following his lead as he sways you softly from side to side. The rhythm is simple, almost instinctual, as you both find a comfortable pace. Heeseung twirls you around, guiding you with a delicate touch. The tunnel fills with laughter as you both realise how terrible you are at dancing, your steps more like a gentle walk back and forth rather than any actual dance move.

The flickering lights cast a warm, romantic glow on your faces, adding to the dreamlike quality of the moment. You can't help but feel a sense of euphoria, the combination of the music, the setting, and Heeseung's presence creates a perfect moment of bliss. Each step, each movement, is filled with unspoken words and shared smiles.

Heeseung's eyes never leave yours, and you feel a profound connection with him, as if the entire world has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this enchanted place. His fingers are warm against your back, his grip secure yet gentle, providing a sense of safety and comfort.

As you continue to sway, you can hear Heeseung's soft breaths, matching the rhythm of the music. You lean in closer, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You know," you whisper, a hint of teasing in your voice, "your heart doesn't beat as fast as it used to."

Heeseung huffs out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your body. "I guess I'm getting used to having you close," he replies, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. His tone turns slightly more serious as he speaks again, his grip on you tightening slightly. “And I feel safe with you; I think that’s why.”

His confession causes you to look up at him. The sincerity on his face adds weight to his words. The emotion in his eyes is pure, and you know he means it. You've seen him grow comfortable with you over the weeks, but hearing him say it out loud makes your stomach do cartwheels.

Taking his hand, you place it gently over your heart, his palm resting just on top of your left breast. Your actions startle him at first, but he soon relaxes, feeling your heartbeat which matches his own rhythm.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you beam at him. “I guess mine feels safe with you too.”

The moment stretches, the air between you thickening with an electric charge. Heeseung’s eyes darken slightly as they flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. His hand remains on your chest, the warmth of his palm seeping through your shirt, creating a connection that feels almost tangible.

You can feel his breath on your skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours. Slowly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a centimeter away from yours. The anticipation makes your heart race even faster, and you close the gap, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss.

The initial contact is soft and tentative, testing the waters. But as soon as your lips meet, an undeniable heat flares between you. Heeseung’s hand moves from your chest to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

This isn’t your first kiss with him, yet it feels entirely different to the ones you have shared before, although still as intoxicating, this one also ignites your soul in ways you never thought possible, the feeling as though you are opening yourself up to him completely. It could be the romantic atmosphere, or it could be something more.

The kiss deepens, growing more passionate with each passing second. Heeseung’s other hand settles on your waist, drawing you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against your own, creating a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the dance of your lips.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss further. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking entry, and you part them willingly, allowing him to explore. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

The heat between you intensifies, your bodies pressing closer together as if trying to meld into one. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even nearer. Heeseung responds with a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and igniting a fire in your belly.

His hand slowly begins to massage your tit, causing you to roll your head back and break the kiss, enjoying the feeling of being touched. Moans escape your throat as you relish in his contact. However, as Heeseung makes his way to capture your lips with urgency, you find yourself falling back, losing your footing and stumbling back onto the throne, dragging the man down with you.

Heeseung panics, terrified that his body weight has somehow hurt you upon impact. But as your lips find his again, all worries melt away with each stroke and swirl of your tongue against his. You are so lost in him that you fail to notice how your head hits the backrest of the throne, likely causing you a migraine in the hours to come.

The surroundings seem to fade as your world narrows down to just the two of you. The throne room, once a grand stage, now a silent witness to your burgeoning romance, adds an air of surreal magic to the moment. The tattered curtains sway gently with the breeze, and the faded decorations glint faintly in light, casting a soft glow that bathes you both in a warm, intimate embrace.

Grabbing your hips, Heeseung shifts you to sit more comfortably on the throne. His lips move from yours to your neck, exploring the tender skin there with a mix of reverence and desire. Your natural scent drives him wild, his nose ghosting over your pulse points before licking and sucking them gently.

The action causes you to whimper, legs spreading instinctively as he turns you into a puddle of arousal beneath him. It’s incredible how a man who has never touched a woman is somehow doing more for you than any experienced man ever could. It’s as if he came straight from a dream factory, complete with the sex function already installed, add-ons included. Even the way he holds you, his fingers digging into your hips just right, is enough to have your hips bucking into his.

"Heeseung," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. With gentle force, you begin to push his head down, guiding him to where you need him most.

Eyes widening, Heeseung retreats slightly. "Y/N, I-"

"Please, Heeseung," you beg, your face a picture of desperation.

Heeseung wants nothing more than to rid you of your clothes and devour you like his life depends on it, but a constant, nagging fear lingers in the back of his mind: what if he does it wrong? This is the first time he'll even see a vagina up close, let alone have the pressure to please the woman he adores.

Of course, he has watched the porn tapes that Jongseong and Jaeyun somehow managed to collect from a shady dealer in Camden Market, and there are the magazines he looks at for some light reading, but never has he seen one in the flesh. His face goes slightly red, and you can see him retreating back to the boy who first stepped into the hotel room, panic and fear springing to life in his eyes as he contemplates the notion of giving you head.

Reaching over, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in an attempt to ease his mind. "Hee, just do what feels right. I trust you."

The affirmation in your voice, coupled with the tender touch of your fingers, reassures him. Heeseung takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with newfound resolve. Slowly, he lowers himself between your thighs, his hands sliding up your legs and parting them gently.

With shaky fingers, he unbuttons your jean shorts and pulls them down, taking your panties along with them. His heart skips approximately three beats as he stares at your heat, its slight glisten caught in the faded overhead lights of the platform.

It's even more beautiful than he could ever have imagined, the heat radiating from it as it calls him closer, whispering pleas to be touched that only he can hear.

Gathering his courage, he starts with tentative kisses, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your centre. You can feel his breath, warm and teasing, and it makes your heart race even faster. His hands, steady now, grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he finally reaches his destination.

Heeseung’s first touch is gentle, a soft press of his lips against your most sensitive spot. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching off the throne. Encouraged by your response, he grows bolder, his tongue darting out to taste you. The initial hesitancy fades away, replaced by a focused intensity as he explores, learning what makes you squirm and moan with pleasure.

The taste is foreign but far from unpleasant. He can see himself becoming addicted to you with each long stripe of his tongue up your folds. He closes his eyes, harnessing all his senses to taste you and hear your heaven-sent moans filter through his ears.

Your hands find his head, pushing him further in as you urge him to be a little more dominant, his soft licks now teasing you as you crave more. “Heeseung,” you begin, eyes closed while you practically hump his face, using his sharp nose to stimulate your nub. “Focus on my clit, please.” The instruction is so breathy that it doesn’t sound demanding at all but rather pleading.

Hearing your soft cries, Heeseung darts his tongue around clumsily until he comes across your sensitive nub, its swollen state making it easier to find. That was a worry of his after hearing countless conversations in uni from girls about men never finding it, yet, he had nothing to be anxious about because, despite other men’s incompetence, he latches onto it quickly, sucking and swirling his muscle around it.

The sounds of his slurping mixed with your groans of pleasure echo around the tunnel, truly transforming it into its branded name. He’s hitting all the spots, although sometimes lacking direction and ruining the rhythm, yet he always manages to find his way back to the spots you crave him.

Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle suck, drives you higher, the sensations building into an overwhelming crescendo. Your hands grip his hair tightly, your hips moving of their own accord, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he’s giving you.

“Heeseung,” you moan, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

He responds with a low hum, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure that’s consuming you. His tongue moves with increasing confidence, drawing out whimpers and cries from you that bounce straight to his semi-hard cock. The feeling of his mouth on you, his hands holding you steady, is almost too much to bear.

Your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him between your legs and signalling your impending climax. The feeling of suffocating at the hands of your pleasure feels like such a heavenly way to die that Heeseung doesn’t mind it one bit.

The tip of his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, the ridgedness of him stimulating you over the edge and causing you to come undone around him, your entire upper body removing itself from the backrest and hunching over him, your fingers gripping his hair painfully as the high rushes through your veins.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your cunt riding his face as it spreads your juices over him, marking the man as your own.

Heeseung smiles as he feels you cum over his tongue, a swelling sense of pride enveloping his body as he makes you wriggle in ecstasy. He made a girl cum, him, the virgin who only 10 minutes ago hadn’t even seen a pussy before, and now here you are, losing yourself in euphoria all because of him and his newly experienced tongue.

He will give himself a pat on the back later.

Just as you begin to relax, your muscles unclenching and your heart settling into a steady rhythm, the lights above suddenly go out. The warm white and pink hues that had bathed the tunnel vanish, plunging you both into complete darkness.

For a moment, there is silence. The absence of light seems to amplify the sounds around you—the faint echo of your breathing, the soft rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifts nervously. The air feels heavier now, thick with uncertainty and a touch of apprehension.

“Fuck, the ride must shut off automatically,” you conclude, only grounded in your panic due to the touch from Heeseung. 

Heeseung lifts his head from between your legs, sitting on his feet as he looks around for a spec of light. Unlike the haunted house, there are no windows to even offer you a glimpse of light, it is pitch black and suddenly very, very cold.

Feeling around him, Heeseung retrieves your shorts from the ground before manoeuvring around in the darkness to help you put them back on. His heart sinks a little at the sudden interruption because although unconventional and spur of the moment, this could have been his opportunity to lose his v-card, finally ridding him of what he found a burden.

If his cock could talk, it would be sobbing as it gets left in his boxers for one more day. It craves to be inside you but for now, he just needs to focus on both of you getting out of the tunnel safely. 

Standing up, Heeseung feels for your hand in the darkness, gently pulling you up from the throne. “Hold onto my hand but let me go first. I’ll get us down,” he says with determination. His face is close to yours, his breath warm on your forehead, your body so near to his that you could almost feel the heat radiating between you.

Interlocking your fingers with his, you feel his confident movements as he tests the ground ahead. He stretches out his foot, tapping lightly to gauge if there’s solid ground beneath him, repeating the process around him. He’s grateful for the random fireman experience he attended in his last year of high school, recalling the lessons on how to navigate in darkness or low-visibility situations.

He repeats the tapping process four times, methodically feeling his way forward until he finally senses the edge of the platform. The drop feels daunting in the darkness, making Heeseung feel the same sense of vulnerability you had felt earlier. Everything seems more intimidating when you’re smaller and engulfed by darkness.

Heeseung’s voice cuts through the darkness, calm yet laced with concern. “I’ve found the edge. I’ll go first and help you down.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly, a reassuring squeeze that conveys both determination and comfort in equal measure.

“Be careful, Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice resonating faintly in the vast, silent tunnel.

Heeseung guides you to sit on the edge, his movements deliberate and careful. He positions himself next to you, his posture steady as he prepares to descend. “Wait there,” he instructs softly, before shifting his weight and gingerly sliding down the rough surface of the wall.

Each movement is cautious and deliberate. Heeseung avoids taking any unnecessary risks, mindful of the darkness that blankets you both. His hands grip the uneven edges of the wall, his feet finding purchase on the slight protrusions of the structure. He gently eases down until he finally finds stability on the ground.

Heeseung's mind races with unwelcome images of scurrying rats, the darkness amplifying his unease. His skin prickles with imagined sensations, the urge to escape the enclosed space growing stronger with each passing moment. He shakes off the disturbing thoughts, reminding himself firmly that he is in Scotland, far from the bustling streets of downtown New York.

Reaching out in the darkness, Heeseung’s hand finds your legs, and he squeezes them reassuringly, a silent gesture to remind you that he is there, a steady presence amidst the unsettling environment. "Okay, Y/N," he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and encouragement, "you can come down now."

You nod, though he cannot see it, your trembling arms inching closer to the edge. Your heart pounds in your chest, the platform feeling less secure than ever before. "Please catch me," you plead, your voice shaky with fear, hesitant to move until you hear his reassuring words.

"Always, Y/N. I’m right here," Heeseung murmurs, his lips pressing a kiss to your leg in a tender gesture of reassurance, letting his protective instincts guide him through the darkness, pushing aside his usual nervous demeanour.

Taking a shaky breath, you curse Heeseung inwardly for rendering your body weak with his earlier ministrations, his tongue that you were blessing now cursed in your mind. Your legs feel like jelly as you begin your descent, every movement wary. The darkness seems to press in around you, adding to your unease.

Heeseung’s hands are steady and sure as he guides you down, his touch gentle yet firm. You feel his support anchoring you, easing your fall despite the lingering fear. His presence beside you is a constant source of reassurance, his voice offering encouragement whenever doubt creeps in. “I got you, Y/N.”

Finally, your feet touch solid ground, the relief palpable as you stand in the blackout. Your hands find Heeseung’s waist, gratitude flooding your heart for his unwavering support through the ordeal as you stand there embracing one another.

"Thank you," you breathe, your voice a whisper of genuine appreciation as you lean into his reassuring touch. His thumbs graze your waist as he nods, “Like I said, always.”

With your hand securely in his, he moves meticulously and slowly through the maze of darkness and debris. You trust him completely and follow his path to safety. The tunnel echoes with the sound of your footsteps, the only audible reassurance in the otherwise eerie silence. Heeseung's grasp tightens encouragingly anytime you come across an invisible obstacle, his presence serving as a continuous anchor in the unnerving gloom.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in the blackened tunnel, you emerge into the brightness of daytime at the end. The relief washes over you like a wave, the outside world a welcome contrast to the claustrophobic darkness you just escaped. Heeseung turns to you, his expression softened with relief and pride.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and triumph. His hand squeezes yours gently. Nodding in agreement, you offer him a small smile back, just relieved to see his face once again.

There, at the edge of the moat, a ladder beckons you both to climb. Its rungs, weathered and rusted, speak of years spent in neglect. Despite its worn appearance, it stands as a symbol of escape and freedom from the underground labyrinth you ventured through.

Heeseung is just glad he doesn’t need to find another rusted tool to help him up this time. With a determined stride, he begins to ascend the ladder, each step bringing him closer to the surface and away from the shadows that had engulfed you moments before. The ladder creaks under his weight, but it holds steady, a testament to its enduring strength despite its aged appearance.

You follow closely behind, feeling the warm sunlight kiss your skin as you emerge from the depths. With each rung you climb, the darkness recedes further into memory, replaced by the promise of open skies and fresh air.

As you reach the top, Heeseung extends a hand to help you over the edge. Together, you stand on solid ground once more, the moat and tunnel behind you now a part of your shared adventure. The world around you seems brighter, more vivid, as if the ordeal has heightened your senses to appreciate the simplest joys of daylight and freedom.

Well, as much freedom as you have considering there is a whole national police force after you.

Looking at your saviour once more, you see your juices still drenched over his face and it elicits a small giggle from you. The sound causes Heeseung’s brows to quirk, questioning your sudden change in mood.

“You have a little something on your face,” you answer his silent question, reaching up to wipe him clean, your thumb brushes over his chin and cheeks, feeling the faint hint of stubble under your thumbprint. 

The moment is so tender despite the lewd action that resulted in this. His eyes fall shut as you continue to clean him, never missing a drop, leaving his mouth last. You lean up and kiss him ever so gently, his lips that are swollen from their labour meld with yours so beautifully, like they are made for you and only you.

As you kiss him, the tension of the moment begins to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if to ensure you won't slip away. The stubble on his face grazes your skin gently, a contrast to the softness of his lips as they move against yours.

There's a lingering taste, a mix of sweetness and saltiness, that stays on his lips from moments before. It's a reminder of the passion shared, now tempered by this gentle act of cleaning up. 

When you finally break the kiss, your eyes meet his, and there's an unspoken understanding passing between you. It's not just about what happened, but about this moment of tenderness and care that followed. 

His fingers trace a delicate line from your waist to your jaw, his touch light yet firm, something u spoken lingering in the air. You lean into his touch, a small smile curving your lips, feeling the warmth of his hand as it cradles your face. The world around you seems to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment of fragile yet profound intimacy.

Heeseung's heart pounds fiercely in his chest, each beat a testament to the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. Affection and reverence blend together, overwhelming his mind and filling him with a dizzying sense of attachment. Every fibre of his being is drawn to you, the intensity of his feelings almost nauseating in its potency.

He exhales slowly, his breath trembling as he gazes deeply into your eyes. His thumb strokes the apples of your cheeks, his touch gentle. He wants to tell you everything, to lay bare the depth of his emotions he feels for you.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I-"

His words are abruptly cut off, his body tensing as he feels the cold, unforgiving pressure of a metallic object against the back of his head. The sudden intrusion of another presence is palpable, the heat radiating from the person standing dangerously close behind him.

"Don't fucking move."

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

the kraken's girl

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild fluff and mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, tentacles, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), double penetration, male masturbation, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, multiple creampies, brat!reader, switch!cheol, exhibitionism

word count: 3.4k

summary: neither you nor seungcheol expected to blow up twitter after your sex-nanigans. but that didn't stop you from meeting up again.

Author's note: happy halloween beloveds! this is the next installment of Vodka Slime. major thanks to @gyuwoncheol and @smileysuh for proofreading and screaming in my draft loves🥰

disclaimer: the twitter usernames used in the fic were randomly picked, any resemblance with real twitter usernames is 100% coincidental.

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

Fifty thousand followers. Fifty fucking thousand new people followed your Twitter account within a single night, all thanks to the two minute clip you uploaded before falling asleep. 

Your head is spinning with shock and excitement, arousal coursing through your body as you read the retweets one by one.

“GIRL WHO IS THIS”

“monster cock at its FINEST”

“me when me when me WHEN”

“eating a brick wall as we speak”

“i’ve never felt more submissive and breedable in my life before”

You giggle every time you scroll down, biting your thumbnail and kicking your feet like a kid who did something naughty. Although you’re not a kid anymore, your tendencies are definitely on the naughty side.

As if on cue, you receive a message from Seungcheol, who also retweeted your post on his account.

cherry_csc: we really caused a ruckus huh

You rapidly type back.

prettylilfreak: ikr ppl were STOKED

You receive another message from him.

cherry_csc: we can always make another one yk? 

cherry_csc: if you’re down i’m down too

You rub your thighs at the thought of fucking Seungcheol (and his tentacles) again, but this time, you’re not 100% sure about filming it.

prettylilfreak: why don’t we discuss it over brunch? i know a place that makes mean choco waffles

prettylilfreak: unless aliens are allergic to waffles or smth

cherry_csc: if i told you i have never eaten waffles before would you believe me?

prettylilfreak: i’ve seen worse from you tbh

cherry_csc: ok fair point

cherry_csc: send me the address and the date, i’ll be there

prettylilfreak: cool, see you soon <3

You search for the restaurant and book a table for two, sending the info of the reservation to Seungcheol a few seconds later. You close your phone and let it plop down next to your pillow. You lay flat on your bed with a stupid grin on your face, your insides still squelching with need.

You turn your head towards your nightstand and open the last drawer where you keep all of your toys. 

Just a quick one won’t hurt, you think and grab the tentacle-shaped dildo, licking your lips.

If only it was as good as the real thing.

“Damn, these waffles are really amazing.” Seungcheol gulps down a hefty bite of his choco waffles.

“I told you so! They are delicious.” You mirror his actions.

“Although I think you taste better than the waffles.” He sends you a wink and you nearly choke on your food.

“Damn, no need to die from waffles!” He passes you a glass of water and you drink it all in one go.

“And there was no need to spit out stuff like that without warning!” You try to clear your throat.

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Waffles and choking aside, I think we should pick up the conversation from where we left it off.”

“You mean the Twitter DMs? Sure, I’m all ears.” Seungcheol wipes his lips with a paper towel.

“So, about that….I must admit that I had one hell of a time with you that night, and…”

“And?”

“And I definitely wouldn’t mind if we repeated it.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip seductively.

“But I have a condition.” 

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to film anything for my account.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Are you disappointed?” You toy with your fingers.

“What? No, of course not! It’s your account after all, you’re calling the shots in the end.” He reassures you. “Can I ask why though?”

“Let’s just say that I want to….experiment with you.” You rest your face between your palms.

“Experiment? What are you, a NASA researcher?”

“No, but you left some unanswered questions and I want answers.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is about.”

You smack your lips. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, it saves me a lot of talking.” 

“You need to clarify some things first, sweetheart.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Seungcheol.”

“I beg to differ, doll.” He purrs the petname on purpose and you feel a chill running down your spine.

You stuff your mouth with more waffles, chomping on them like a starved animal to avoid answering to Seungcheol.

“You’re so stubborn, but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He plays with his bottom lip as he watches the cutlery in your hands move with light speed.

“Eat as much as you can, doll. You’re gonna need a lot of energy for later.”

The fork and knife fall from your hands and clack on the plate as you try your best to swallow the bite in your mouth.

“You….need to be restrained.” You point your finger towards his face in a menacing way.

“Hmm, I can think of a way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You can always fuck around and find out.”

You stare at the smirking man in front of you, contemplating his indirect proposal.

“You motherfucker.”

“How the fuck do you afford an apartment like this?!” You yell as soon as you enter Seungcheol’s home.

“I might be an alien, but I’ve been on Earth for over a decade. I think it’s enough time to learn how to make money.” He replies as he takes off his shoes and jacket.

“I don’t think I want to indulge my curiosity about your personal life right now…” You mutter.

“I know you don’t, Y/N.” He grips your thighs and puts your legs around his waist, carrying you like this all the way to the bedroom. 

“I guess your tentacles and cock aren’t the only strong parts of your body.” You grip his shoulders as he carefully lays you down on the double-sized bed.

“Not to brag, but I spend a lot of hours at the gym to keep myself in that shape.” He grins and rolls his hips against your crotch.

 You suck a harsh breath through your teeth. “If you do this one more time, I swear to God I won’t be able to hold back.”

“That’s okay, doll. That’s why I’m here -  To keep you in check.”

Seungcheol frees himself from the iron grip of your legs and straightens his back. You feel slightly intimidated by his muscular build, but the intimidation molds into heady arousal when he discards his clothes one by one, until he’s utterly naked.

“Your turn, baby. Take them off.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You taunt him.

His voice grows stern. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them to shreds.” 

You swallow thickly and take off your t-shirt, followed by your jeans. Your hands shyly creep behind your back and they toy with the clasp of your bra.

“There’s no need to be shy with me, Y/N.” Seungcheol kneels on the bed and cages your legs with his muscular thighs. “Now, take off the bra like a good girl.”

You exhale shakily and unclasp your bra, you slide the straps off your shoulders and remove it from your body, your nipples perking up.

“Perfect. So fucking perfect.” Seungcheol mutters before he pushes you towards the headboard and climbs on top of you.

“Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” You ask.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you want to slide your big, mean cock inside my pussy, Cheol?” You pout your lips on purpose and roll your clothed pussy against his naked shaft.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen today, doll.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Then why the f-”

Seungcheol shushes you with his finger on your lips. “I’ll make it all worth it, I promise. Now, I want you to sit across the headboard. Can you do that for me?”

“You better keep your promise, otherwise I’ll block you from my socials!” You crawl on the other edge of the bed with a grumpy look on your face.

Seungcheol gets comfortable against the headboard. “This is barely our second time together, but I don’t plan on dumping you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “The way I’ve heard the last part so many times from other men.”

“First of all, I am not a feeble human, even if I have human appearance. And most importantly…” His tentacles appear from his back and slide around his thighs.

“No man would ever do the things I’m about to show you.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious to me, Cheol.”

“I am ambitious, doll. And meeting like-minded people strengthens my own ambitions.”

You flash a sultry smirk. "Good to know we're on the same page."

The tentacles keep gliding over Seungcheol's body, leaving a slimy trail on his skin.

"Remember when you asked me about my tentacles spitting stuff?"

"I do. And what about it?"

"Watch and you'll find out, doll."

You nearly gasp when two thick tentacles wrap around Seungcheol's thighs and hold them apart, exactly the same way your thighs were spread. 

But he doesn't stop there.

Another tentacle binds his wrists above his head, rendering him completely helpless and exposed.

"Sheesh, didn't know you had an exhibitionism kink going on, Cheol." You rub your thighs together.

"I've never done this before, so consider yourself lucky." 

"You've never jerked yourself before?"

"More like I've never used additional help to jerk off before."

Two more tentacles appear in front of him, one morphing into a literal fleshlight and the other approaching his rim dangerously.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Cheol?"

"One fucking hundred percent, doll."

The fleshlight engulfs Seungcheol's cock completely and the other tentacle slides into his hole simultaneously, making him cry out in pleasure.

"H-Hah, ah, f-fuh…."

"Shit, Cheol, that's-"

"Nothing I cannot handle, s-sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip when the fleshlight starts sucking his cock and the other appendage thrusts in his ass rather strongly.

You never expected him to pull off this stunt and truth be told, it has you soaking through your panties and clenching around emptiness.

He's struggling to keep his eyes open from how good his own tentacles are making him feel - sweat has started to form on his forehead and neck, his skin turning glossy.

"Does it feel that good?" You ask him, rubbing your thighs together.

"Stop pretending to be sympathetic, I know you enjoy w-watching me like this." Seungcheol groans as he digs his nails into his palms. "But yeah, it f-feels good." His thighs jolt with each thrust and suck delivered by the tentacles occupying his sensitive spots.

You're certain the fabric of your panties has turned into second skin from how much you've soaked them and you haven't even been touched yet. This is the first time you're affected by a man to this degree and you almost feel embarrassed. Almost.

"Fuuuuck, that shit is so good." Seungcheol leans his head back and his puffy lips fall apart, deep moans filling the room with the same speed his tentacle is filling up his hole. The fleshlight picks up the pace and starts sucking his cock harder and his hips buck up, but the slimy restraints keep him down effectively.

"A-Are you cumming, Cheol?" You ask him, "Because I might do so, untouched."

"Don't you fucking dare." He growls at you for a split second, but his expression forms into one of pure bliss as he finally reaches his climax, loads of cum being milked from his cock.

You fist the sheets beside you and bite your bottom lip to suppress your whines as you watch Seungcheol lose control thanks to his own tentacles, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to calm down from his intense orgasm. The tentacle that was torturing his hole retracts slowly and your eyes fixate on the slimy residues all over his cock and ass. The restraints on his wrists and thighs disappear as well and his arms drop down on his sides with a loud groan.

Blond hair streaks are stuck on his forehead, sweat is dripping down his chest and his breaths are ragged and heavy. 

But his gaze still lingers on you.

"That was….fucking insane."

"I take it you…. enjoyed the show, doll?" 

You spread your legs and show him your drenched panties, a low whistle blowing from his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t want to sound greedy or anything but… I’m kind of suffering here.” You point towards your pussy and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

“I know you are. But worry not, the real fun starts now, Y/N.”

Seungcheol snaps his fingers and two tentacles attach themselves around your ankles, dragging you directly in front of him. You yelp when he puts his hands on your waist and he flips you over with little effort, propping your ass up and pushing your waist down.

He runs his hand from your waist to the curve of your ass. “Mmm, that’s a pretty arch you have, baby.” 

He squeezes your flesh and gives it a sharp smack, a gasp echoing in the room. You wince away from him, but his hand on your waist keeps you in your place.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You whine in defeat.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I don’t care! I just want you to fill me up until I can’t think straight anymore!” You shake your ass in an attempt to entice him.

“I can definitely do that, doll.” Seungcheol uses both hands to rip your panties apart and throw them on the floor. He pries your lips apart with his thumbs and hisses when your slick runs down from your entrance and glides on your clit.

“But I might have to get a taste of that pussy before fucking it.”

He catches your honey with the tip of his tongue right before it falls on the sheets and moans at the taste of it. He slowly rolls the tip around your bundle of nerves and you bite the sheets to muffle your noises. 

“I want to hear your voice, Y/N. It’s unfair to hear it only through your twitter posts and not directly from you.” He actually begs you and it has you keeling over.

“What’s unfair is you trying to beg me to moan, when you know I can’t resist your pleas, Seungcheol.” You grumble, yet you push your ass closer to his face. “Now, I would like you to use your pretty mouth to- AH!”

Seungcheol grips your ass and smothers his face in your drenched cunt, his tongue rubbing your clit and his nose nudges your hole. You can feel the curves of his lips savoring your juices and you can hear the sloppy noises they create - pure music to your ears.

“So, mmfh, fucking delicious…” He purrs against your pussy, “Makes me wanna - umffh- keep you by my side forever.”

Your walls clench harder than before and so does your heart - but you choose to shove that piece of information in the back of your head. It’s a bit early for that, you think.

You let out a particularly whiny moan when he circles his tongue around your hole and he laughs when more of your slick gushes out, but this time, he lets it drip down on his lap.

“I don’t know what’s messier, my tentacles or your pussy?”

“S-Shut up!”

He slaps your ass. “Don’t talk back to me, doll.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rail me until I pass out?”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and musters the strength he has left in his thighs to climb on top of your body, as if he’s about to mount you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he plants one hand next to your head and uses the other to pull your head back.

“That is actually a wonderful idea, sweetheart.” His lips barely touch the shell of your ear, but his voice is enough to make your spine shudder.

You open your mouth to give him a snarky reply, but the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs when two of his tentacles fill up your ass and pussy without warning, fitting tighter than a glove. He lets go of your hair and cages your wrists with his hands, rendering you immovable.

“See what happens when you talk back to me, doll?”

“F-Fuck, s-so f-full….”

“Yeah? You have no idea how full you’re gonna be after I’m done with you.” 

You can feel his cock resting on your ass and twitching with need.

"Remember when you asked me if my tentacles can spit stuff?"

"Y-Yeah?" You try to keep your brain intact, but the tentacles thrusting in your holes make it hard for you.

Seungcheol presses his lips right behind your ear and sucks on your earlobe. His voice has dropped to a mere whisper.

"They do and it's all mine."

Your eyes start fluttering when you feel his thick cock slide between your cheeks and fuck them as if he was really fucking your pussy - even if he somehow does it.

The tentacles ram you almost violently, the little suckers gliding against your walls. You're at Seungcheol's mercy, unable to move, unable to think and unable to form coherent sentences - just a pretty little toy for a hot alien and his slimy tentacles.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

"C-Cheollie, I wanna cum! Please!" You cry out, hands fisting the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You're close, sweetheart?" 

"Fuck, I am!"

"Go on then, let go for me." He kisses your temple and fucks your asscheeks harder.

You finally cum and it hits you like a raging waterfall, your entire body shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf trying to stay on the tree before it's blown away. 

"Hang in there, doll, we're almost t-there." Seungcheol's ragged breath fans over your cheekbone, his hands letting go of your wrists to grip your waist.

His tentacles come to a halt and throb inside you, pumping your holes full of his cum, until a few drops start slipping out.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks when the tentacles detach from your holes, wincing when the sticky mess flows out of you. Your moans are growing louder every time Seungcheol's pelvis slaps against the curve of your ass, his nails digging in your skin.

"Such a great fucking ass, all mine to fuck, ugh!" He throws his head back as he cums, splashing his load all over your back and ass, painting it white. He pumps his cock with his hand a few times before smacking the tip over your ass.

"Cheol…..I can't move…" You pout your lips tiredly.

"I know, baby, I know." He gets up and pats your head before disappearing from the room.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a clean towel and the feeling of the soft cotton wiping you clean from the sticky mess covering your back and private parts almost puts you to sleep.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet, I need to actually wash you." Seungcheol gently rubs the towel over your spent holes.

"Will you carry me to the bathroom?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I have any other choice, since you technically can't walk."

"I wonder whose fault is that, huh." You mumble against the mattress.

"I'm sorry, doll." Seungcheol swipes your hair away from your face, "Although I did enjoy fucking you dumb."

You support your upper half on your arms. "To be completely honest, I really enjoyed it - hell, I asked for it."

He catches your lips in a short yet gentle and sweet kiss, melting into his pillowy lips.

"We can always-"

"Repeat it?"

"No," Seungcheol picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. "I mean, I would love to, but I would prefer to take you out on a proper date first."

"Oh? I didn't know aliens had romantic tendencies." You joke.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/N. And I'm pretty sure there are lots of things I don't know about you."

"Are you saying you actually want to get to know me better?" 

"Yes. To put it with your words, I'd like to experiment with you."

You look away purposefully. "I might be a tough formula to crack." 

He carefully puts you in the bathtub and kneels in front of you, his eyes meeting yours.

"Consider this challenge accepted, doll."

[dira333]

Don't tease - Tsukishima x reader

A/N: 1k, fluff, requested by @missalienqueen

Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

“You really wanna do it that way?”

You tense immediately, hoping he’ll leave you alone just once. But to no avail.

“I didn’t think I’ve ever seen a filing system this… creative,” Tsukishima drawls. He’s looming over you, a tall shadow of incessant teasing. Ever since you’ve started working at the museum, he seems to have it out for you. He shows up during your tours, butts in when you get a few hours to yourself to work on your recent thesis and just never leaves you alone. 

If he could keep his mouth shut doing so, it would only be half as harrowing, because he’s actually kinda cute - as long as he’s not narrowing his eyes at you like this.

Tsukishima often reminds you of your old principal. That man too had been a pole of judgment, always present at the wrong time. You had hated that man and Tsukishima was beginning to… okay, you weren’t kidding anyone, you could probably never hate Tsukishima. If he isn’t tormenting you, he’s polite and sincere in his work and you can tell by the way he treats the rest of the staff that he can be kind when he wants to. 

So why does he treat only you like this?

“Let me do it,” he insists at that moment. “Wouldn’t want you to break a nail from all the hard work.”

Your mouth opens before you even register it. “If you want to work as an Educator instead of a Curator you could have just applied for that position when it was free instead of trying to bully me out of it.”

Tsukishima stiffens. He’s never resembled a pole more than at this moment, all his limbs locked tight to his body as he stares into space. You can’t really tell if his face is turning pale too because your own body is locking up, heat flushing your face as you press a hand to your mouth. You’ve never been this bold before. 

“I’m sorry!” You rush out when you can speak again, “I didn’t mean-”

“But you did.” He insists, voice low and… dejected? No, you have to be mistaken.

“I… well… yeah.” You stutter. “I mean… You have it out for me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that treatment, but if you want my job so bad, you should have just applied for it. The position was vacant for months.”

“I don’t want your job,” Tsukishima presses through his teeth. His eyes are looking everywhere but at you. His cheeks are flushed now and you can almost see steam coming from his ears when he adds: “I want you.”

You blink.

You blink again.

Tsukishima pushes himself away from the filing cabinet, his movements stiff and awkward.

“I’m sorry I made you think I was bullying you.” His voice sounds almost unfamiliar. 

When he bows you notice how red his neck has gotten.

He really is ashamed.

“You have a weird way of showing that.” Your hands itch to hold onto something. To make sure that this is real. 

“I… well…” Tsukishima rubs his neck with one hand, eyes darting across the room. “I’ve been told before that teasing someone instead of clearly communicating could go wrong but I didn’t really believe it. After all, it worked for my… friend.”

“Your friend was probably nicer about it.” You point out, your tongue heavy in your mouth. What are you supposed to do now? Knowing he likes you? 

“I… probably.” He swallows thickly, offers you his hand. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You shake it. The warmth of his skin against yours and the strength of his grip sends a shiver up your back. 

He turns, cheeks still pink.

“Well, I’ll… I’ll let you do your work then. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Tsukishima is almost at the door when you untangle the knot in your tongue, brace against the nervous stutter of your heart.

“You could have just asked me out.”

He swirls around so fast you fear it’s going to give him whiplash. The look on his face is something you want to burn into your brain. It’s the delight of a child mixed with the anxiety of someone who’s been let down before. His eyes narrow immediately like he has to make sure you’re not playing him.

You nod, no longer able to form words.

“So…” He clears his throat. “Are you… free? Tonight?”

You nod again.

A smile lights up his face, boyish and bright. Your heart stops for a second before it hammers at twice its usual speed. Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

-

Tsukishima is going to be the death of you.

“You really wanna do it that way?”

You nod, typing away. Behind you, the cushions of your shared couch rustle as he maneuvers around. He leans onto you, heavy and warm, face pressed into your neck.

“But I want to cuddle.” Tsukishima drawls. 

“And I want to finish this thesis. You told me I would have more than enough time today.”

“And you will. You just have to cuddle first.”

You try to send him a glare, but his face is hidden away in your hair.

“Tsukishima!”

“Kei,” he corrects you immediately.

“Tsukki,” you compromise and he groans. 

“If someone would let me focus, I’d be finished in half an hour and then we could cuddle.”

He huffs. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re not either.”

“Fine.” He gets up. His tone is all snappy, but he winks at you to let you know he doesn’t mean it. He still might be infuriating and annoying, but he’s gotten way better at communicating when he’s actually mad and when he’s just playing for cuddles.

“What are you doing?” You ask when he stalks toward the bedroom.

“I’m going to put on my cutest outfit. We’ll see if that convinces you.”

“Take your time!” You call after him as you pick up your typing. “And send a picture to Yamaguchi when you’re done. I’m sure he’ll appreciate seeing you in the Dino-Onesie he bought you.”

He sends you one last glare.

You return to your document, surprised to realize that all you’ve left to do is write the last paragraph. If you keep at it, you’ll be finished before the Onesie is zipped up.

With a confident grin you pick up speed.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings: None!

A/N: This request had me cracking up while writing it bc the idea of a hippy bamboozling az into silence is so funny to me, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Ever since Azriel had met you, since you’d moved from Autumn Court, you always managed to utterly flabbergast him in ways that shouldn’t be possible for the stoic shadowsinger.

It had all started when he’d noticed the bright, almost obnoxious clothing you always had. Some weren’t bad, like the jeans you would wear with bright floral patterns accenting them, or the flowery shirts or skirts you’d wear.

Your fashion sense was the complete opposite of his, and since you had moved to Velaris under his suggestion, he got to see your wacky outfits every day.

Sandals were a common choice, not to mention warm-toned clothes, cardigans, and knitted tops. The earrings you wore were nothing like he’d seen before, not even trying to be elegant or beautiful, just giving an extra pop of color and flare to your outfit.

It fascinated him.

He’d always seen proper noble women trying to be beautiful or elegant or alluring, but you weren’t that at all. You were just…yourself. You didn’t care about what others thought, you were a rule unto your own law. You were just so out there, sticking out like a sore thumb, but in a good way.

Your bright clothes and personality became a comforting sight for him amongst the dark color theme of Night Court, with most residents opting for black.

And your opinions?

Completely outrageous. But also funny.

Like when you rambled on about how Fae should need a license to winnow, to ensure that they weren’t endangering themselves or others if their skills weren’t good enough. Or how any winged Fae should also need licenses, for the same reason.

He will never forget the time that you told Rhysand to his face on one of your first few times meeting his family that if Velaris was already peaceful and perfect, why not expand that principle to Hewn City, too?

And when he’d tried to explain that the people of Hewn City were too stubborn and hateful for that, you’d just called his reasoning “stupid” and an “excuse” because he just wanted to live in his little paradise city and not deal with the problems of the Court.

That had frazzled Rhys.

In fact, you frazzled almost everyone in the Inner Circle. Except Cassian. He seemed to find you extremely entertaining. You’d nearly given some of them a heart attack, especially since your fiery red hair and hazel eyes oddly resembled the Princess of Autumn, who hadn’t made a public appearance in months, and some people were getting suspicious.

Once getting over the initial hurdle of them adjusting to you, Feyre invited you to her art studio, and when Azriel got there (he’d volunteered to help with some of the paints since he didn’t have any missions that week) he saw you, an absolute mess of paint, helping all the children. You were surprisingly good at it, knowing just what colors to mix for them, giving them what they needed and when, and generally working well with Feyre even if all your paintings were bright and usually neon, and hurt his eyes a bit if he looked too long.

“You’re good with them.”

He spoke to you as he walked down the street, you alongside him as you finally left her painting studio.

“I’ve handled kids before, they’re pretty fun usually.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Did you…babysit, or something?”

He asked, the mental image of you watching and caring for a child for an extended period of time not exactly a great one.

“No, I helped raise my little brother. He was always a more mellow kid, but he had a tongue on him, that was for sure. I oughta visit Luci sometime soon.”

He listened. You’d never mentioned brothers before, or any family at all, really. It didn’t help his suspicions.

“‘Luci’ is an odd name for a boy.”

He commented dryly, and you, clearly not catching onto his sarcasm, as you rarely did, only laughed.

“Boys can be named whatever, but his full name’s Lucien.”

He stopped walking at that, and you continued, oblivious to it until he jogged to catch up.

“You’re Lucien’s sister? As in Lucien Vanserra?”

He asked in a quiet but surprised tone. You only nodded, grinning at him in that lazy, relaxed manner you always had.

“Our secret!”

You declared, before prancing off to go look at the bright fabrics of your favorite salesmen in Velaris. You’d already befriended more than half of the people there, and they all seemed to like you.

Cauldron help anyone who befriended you, and definitely help the shadowsinger stuck as your mate for eternity.

[rainyorca]

Flowers Don’t Bloom In Winter ❀ Logan Howlett x Reader

Content Warnings: F!reader, angst/no comfort, character death, kissing/make out, implied smut, mild gore, strangers to friends to lovers.

Summary: “Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

You'll wilt, all flowers die. But he'll bloom again.

Notes: I’ve been a wolvie fan since i was suppperrr young and I am so glad him (and hugh) are getting attention again. This is my second-ish time writing for him, I just got done rewatching the movies for the first time in a while so hopefully I did him a little justice. His hair in origins will forever be my favorite but in this you can think of him from any movie, there is no set one, no set timeline wolvie.

Words: 6,121

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You're not a weapon. 

You’re more human than everyone else.

Human was a funny word, to Logan at least. Being human meant a lot of things, mutant wasn’t one of them. Stuck as a mutant with the heart for a human, what a tragedy. Actually, did he even have a heart? Oftentimes he would spend nights trying to find his own heartbeat, a hand laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling. 

When he met you he wondered if you knew what he was, the way you stared at him when he came in and sat down at the bar made him curious. Most don't know, he looks normal on the outside, so how would you know? But he did have a hard time keeping his eyes off you too, you smelled human but there was something so sweet about your scent, it made you different from others. 

Wisteria, sandalwood, jasmine and maybe a hint of vanilla, he couldn't really pinpoint what you smelled like (however it reminded him of forests, nature, his old home) all he knew was that he wanted the scent to last forever, like a candle he could buy over and over again. He would only watch the stage when you got up there and when you're done, he would be too. 

You came to the bar shortly after to get yourself a drink, your eyes resembled a rabbit’s; innocence and beauty all in one, and they immediately found him. There was something else in your eyes, deep within like you were trying to figure him out. When you got closer to him your scent got stronger, so strong it was almost overwhelming. No human has ever had that effect on him before, at least not enough to make him physically react like he did, squeezing his glass a little tighter. 

“Hello,” you smiled brightly, like a blooming flower, voice gentle whilst you greeted him. 

“You must be new, I haven't seen you at the bar before.” 

“Just figured I’d try out a new place,” he responds, an attempt to try and be friendly despite his intimidating looks. You smile again, swallowing down the remains of your liquor and then putting the dish in the sink. “Glad you came to us,” your eyes travel down to his somewhat empty glass, “you want another?” 

Your kindness was obvious, but no one that kind is ever really okay. There was something off about you, something deep down was bothering you or maybe you just had some other problem he couldn't figure out. You're kind but in a calming way, not overwhelming. What's the word? Tranquil? That's what he thought of you. 

You knew Logan wasn’t human when you first met him. He looked human just like a majority of the rest of the mutants but you had a keen eye for finding them. It was a talent to some people, being able to point out who was ‘real’ and who was not. Logan was no exception, you could practically see that mutant blood underneath his thick skin as if you had x-ray vision. 

A human trying to befriend a mutant, what an odd thing to most of the world. You should be scared of him. People would say, many warning you to beware the mutants, stay away from the entities wearing human skin. He's only going to hurt you, stay away from him. 

Logan wasn’t an entity, he had a human heart just like the rest of them. But to you, he was a little more human than the others. To you, he looked like a winter flower, strong and capable of handling whatever comes its way, but flowers don't bloom in winter. He was too good to be true. 

You don’t really remember the details of how you met Logan (besides making small talk that first time), but what always stays in your head is what happened a few months later upon meeting him. 

There was a little dispute in the parking lot of your job. Being a dancer doesn't mean you do all the hard work at your job, that's up to the servers and bartenders. But of course you were always the one to go clean up after people. Your coworkers assigned you the role after you broke up a bar fight on your first night, so all the dirty work (dealing with rude customers or fights in and out of the bar) was left up to you. 

Kill them with kindness is an extremely real and full proof method, people find your kindness a little off putting (though you are unsure why). You don’t know what the guys were fighting about but it got messy quickly, they both started swinging at each other and when you tried to split it up suddenly you were the problem. 

Pushing you up against the car, threatening you instead of each other. Your coworkers who were once watching from afar were now safely back inside. You braced yourself for some hits, maybe you would get a cool scar out of the situation, a story to tell to your future children (if you even had any). But all that confidence from before was dropped as soon as the guy got on his knees, grabbing your injured face as you leaned lethargically against the car, making you look at him.

Your bare legs hurt on the asphalt, rocks digging into the softness of your skin, leaving marks. He held a knife up to your ribs, pressing and pressing until you felt a sharpness, the tip of the blade digging into your flesh. The other guy had run off, probably took his chance and instead let you take the beatings. 

You remember him getting ready to stand up, his face getting closer to you while he continued to threaten you, that was until he went silent. There was the sound of flesh ripping, or a knife sheathing you weren’t really sure. Blood splatters onto your face, the only thing you could hear was gurgling and a gruesome choking sound from the man. Slowly opening your blurry eyes, the sight in front of you almost made you scream if your throat wasn't so dry. 

The man had been silenced, three blades stuck out the front of his face, the tips of them so close to yours you could feel them poking into your skin. A shaky gasp escapes your lips when you see him move, his body lifting up. Standing behind him, the man's blood spilling onto his knuckles, was Logan (Haemanthus, in that moment). 

The look of fear on your face was clear in the dark, Logan could see it, hell he could probably smell it. You watch him toss the limp body aside and then he crouches down in front of you. Flinching away, you watch those metal claws slide back into his knuckles, the openings they tear closing almost immediately. Then he cups your face with that same, blood soaked hand, trying to wipe the blood that had splattered onto your face (useless, he was only smearing it). 

That was the first time you ever saw Logan use his powers and it was to protect you. What you should’ve done is run, call the cops or something but instead you stayed, you stayed in front of him, letting him pick you up and carry you back into your job. 

Humans are curious creatures, thirsting for an explanation of something they don't understand, even if that explanation could kill them. So, after that, you would stay after hours on your job, as long as he was there. After you got done closing you would ask him to show you, show you his claws so you could feel them, look at them. Maybe even worship them if you were that kind of person. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, trailing your fingers up the blades. “When they come out?” 

“Every time,” he responds, watching you intently, no one has ever seemed to show this much curiosity over his claws, at least no human has. 

“There’s something sort of humbling about them,” you speak slowly, looking at your reflection on the blades, “the fact that you could so easily kill me, kill anyone, yet you choose not to.” 

Your fingers trail back down the blades until you stop at his wrist, wrapping your hand around it to feel them when they return into his body. You could feel his muscles move every time his bones shift to allow the metal to escape the cavity of his arm. His eyes stay locked on your face, watching every tiny change in expression. 

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. 

Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

It was hard to say whether you really liked Logan after what happened, a part of you knows what he did was illegal, but he did it to protect you, maybe you could rule it out as self defense if the cops come searching. You took an interest in him honestly, this was your first time getting to know a mutant, your first time being saved by one too. 

But there was a part of you that wanted to protect him, keep him safe and out of harm from humans and mutants alike. Logan is stubborn but not as stubborn as you. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking your own life, although he argues that you shouldn't do anything like that for him. Humans are much more fragile, at least that's what he would say to you. He compared you to a flower, prone to breaking, prone to destruction. He feared that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe. 

It's strange, just a few months into this little friendship and you already feel this instinct to take care of him, to nurture him, treat him like he's the most perfect piece of art in the whole world, and also the most breakable. Like he's the most precious, rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The type that you discovered, not some random traveler. Even a few months in he allows you to meet all the other mutants, the ones he calls his family. You hit it off with Storm pretty quick, she knew how to be your voice of reason, your help when it comes to figuring out your feelings for Logan. 

You also enjoyed staying at the mansion, being able to interact with all the students. This place was wonderful to you, but you didn't like having to stay behind when Logan went on missions. 

Every time you watch him walk out that door you feel like you're left with nothing but desperation, the desire, the need to go with him. All you want to do is help him. But you were also left with fear, strangely enough. No matter how many times he came back, everytime he left it felt like he was never gonna come back. They’re just missions, he’ll be back soon. That's what you always told yourself.

You don't know why you cared so much, you two weren't even dating. But you don't really know what to call the relationship you two had, you were much closer than just regular friends. Yearning was never your thing until you met him. Usually you try to avoid relationships, your fears always making it hard for you to stay with someone. 

I wanna be a part of you. 

You would tell him. Always touching him, that was your thing. He liked that about you, that you felt safe around him, comfortable enough to always be touching him, a hand constantly on his shoulder or fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was something you did every time you were with him, even if you were safe from harm. 

His most favorite thing was that scent of yours, it drove him crazy in all the good ways. He could tell when you had just been in a room and he could follow your scent out of that room if he so pleased. He remembers the first time Charles talked about you after you had left the room just a few minutes before he arrived. 

“She's quite a unique one,” he says, watching Logan adjust to your scent filling the room, “isn't scared of mutants, believes we are all equal. I'm glad you found her, Logan.”

“Yeah well, I knew she’d be good here,” Logan responds, leaning against the wall. Charles is quiet, but there's a growing smirk on his face. “What?” he asks a bit harshly.

“You like her,” Charles says, “I don't have to read your mind to tell.”

“Yeah well a mutant and a human won't really work out, so forget it,” Logan grumbles, pushing through the doors and leaving the room before Charles could protest.

The dynamic was weird (for a pair that wasn't dating), but considerably normal to the other mutants. Many seek him out for protection too, he's just the type of guy you gravitate to, despite that grumpy face and angry attitude. You know that's not who he is on the inside, he's much more gentle than what others seem to think about him (Hibiscus, a delicate beauty, Gypsophilia, pure of heart).

When Logan was out on missions, you would spend your time distracting yourself with flower hunting or spending money on bouquets just to make you happy. You would leave them around the mansion, around your work. 

You love seeing him in the audience when he returns, usually sitting at the bar. He leans against it, facing the stage, eyes only on you (Sweet daffodil, you're my only one. The sun shines when I'm with you). When you were done for the night you would run to him, wrapping your arms around him, finding so much comfort in those large arms. 

You imagine Logan would be a kind lover, gentle and caring. The type to freak out if he accidentally hurt you. The type to sit you on his lap during dinner even if there was a chair for you. You know he would take care of you, he's said it a million times before. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he says softly one night after you get off work. You're standing behind the bar, watching him drink the last of the whiskey. 

“You can't be near me all the time,” you hum, teasingly, unaware of his seriousness. You figured it was just him being a little flirty. 

“I can if I want to,” he responds, his smile often a little rare to see but present in this moment. 

He made it very hard for you to try and hide your flusteredness. Logan can be very flirty, more unintentionally than not. In all honesty, maybe you did want him, wanted to be with him. For once you can see a future with someone, something rare for you (usually trying not to look ahead). You could see the future where you live in a cabin with him, somewhere in the woods, probably in Canada or somewhere cold. He would get a normal job, you would make him breakfast and then kiss him goodbye before heading to your own job. Maybe it was a sad, pathetic thing to think about at night but you couldn't help yourself, it was the life you always wanted and you finally found someone to have that life with. 

The day you really realized it, was when he came back from a longer mission, longer than usual. For once you didn't work that week, taking a break to give the new dancer a chance to earn some money. You spent that week cleaning your place, organizing, doing the things you didn't usually have time for. That's when you received a call from the mansion, Ororo had called you, letting you know Logan was back. 

You’ve never driven so fast in your life, that long trip turns into a few quick minutes. The snow didn't stop you, instead it only made your adrenaline spike, your excitement. You practically slipped when you got out of the car, running to the front door of the mansion. 

When it opened to his handsome face you felt a tingle in your spine, electricity coursing through your veins. He starts to walk forward, snow starting to stick to his dark hair, his arms open waiting to catch you. 

In that moment, when you ran into his arms, feeling them wrap around you again and cover you in that familiar warmth, that familiar scent, you felt something more. More than fasciation, more than adoration, you felt love (A blooming orchid). 

“Miss me?” he asks with a smile when you pull away, your arms still wrapped around his neck. He sets you carefully back down on your feet.

“Always,” you breathe, tears pricking at your eyes. You don't know why you felt like crying, you blamed it on the fact of how much you missed him, or maybe you were just incredibly overwhelmed. 

You knew the problems with wanting to be with Logan. The major one you realized while rewatching Twilight (Ironic given your situation, Edward a vampire, Bella a human. You a human, Logan a mutant). Logan is practically immortal, honestly you don’t even know how old he is now. You’ll grow old, eventually succumb to your age or maybe even a sickness if you're lucky. Logan will still be living, just older, a little more grumpy. 

You’ll wilt, all flowers die. But he’ll bloom again.

But unlike Twilight, you won’t get your happy ending. Logan can’t bite you and turn you into a mutant like Edward does with Bella. His fangs are dulled, they don’t secrete any special type of life changing liquid. 

Unfortunately you’ll be human forever. What a curse it is to be human or to be living at all. 

… 

The first time you and Logan kissed was outside his place, surrounded by nothing but trees, fresh snow falling to the ground and sticking to your hair. You had embarrassingly fallen on your ass walking up to his house, he quickly rushed out to help you up, dusting you off and asking if you were okay. But when he picked you up you never let go, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he held you on your own two feet. There was that buzz in the air, the flutter right before a kiss, that tingly feeling in your spine knowing it’s going to happen. 

And when his lips graze over yours you practically shove his head down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his without even considering the situation. To your surprise, he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist. 

It was like something out of a movie, just missing a mushy love song. You wished you could hold that kiss forever but your lips would get sore and you would probably get frostbite. 

When you pulled away he stared at you, eyes piercing into yours before he freed one of his hands. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, and then he pulls them up and over his head.

Then he puts them around your neck, the jingle of them coming to rest on your collar bones makes you shudder, but from warmth, excitement. 

You hide them under your shirt most of the time, always toying with them to make sure they are still safely around your neck. It’s like he transported his warmth with them because they were always warm no matter how cold it was outside. 

Sometimes, if you see him before he leaves somewhere, he’d press a hand to where they hang, rough palm warm against your chest. It was like his little special way of saying goodbye, just in case he didn’t return (which you hated to think about). 

Logan eventually gave you the spare key to his place, allowing you to visit whenever you so pleased. And when he was gone sometimes you would curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and usually getting the best sleep of your life. His scent brought you comfort, you always wanted to be surrounded by it, drowning in it. 

On occasion but rarely, he would come home to you still in his bed, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly. He’d pull the blanket back gently to see your face, sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at you while he waited for you to wake up. 

But usually you would be gone, his bed would be empty but he would always know you were there. Your scent would seep into sheets, the mattress drinking up your smell. He could smell you, like you were still present (Soft jasmine, beautiful wisteria).

Now the first time you two ever slept together was at his place of course, you were slumped from work, muscles aching, head throbbing. You’ve never been this tired before. You push through the door, unlocked as usual when he’s home. He’s already in bed when you're there, awake but he looks just as tired as you. He sits up when he sees you, turning on the lamp so you can see. You don't even say anything, instead you just drop your things by the doorway, tugging your shirt off over your head letting it pool on the ground. 

He doesn’t seem to care, instead he just watches you as you curl into bed next to him. “Rough day?” He asks a few moments later, turning the lamp off. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you mumble back, voice muffled by his pillow. You can already feel yourself relaxing, his scent like a calming drug (the smell of peaceful lavender).

He doesn’t hesitate, he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You let out a sigh, melting into his warmth. It started out as a normal night, sleep coming to you quickly. But it wasn’t until you felt Logan stirr, moving a little in his sleep. He lets out a quiet grumble, and then a louder one. 

Then you feel a sharp pain, agonizing, stinging, right in the back of your shoulder. You let out a yelp, jolting up, your movements pulling whatever it was out of your flesh. You look back, reaching a shaking hand back to feel the wounds. “Damn,” you groan when you see blood on your hand, Logan’s claws unsheathed, the tips covered in your blood. You can feel the warmth travel down your back, the sight of the blood trickling down your back and staining the sheets makes you feel dizzy.

Logan stirrs again, sniffing the air, eyes fluttering open at the scent of your blood. He acts as soon as his eyes land on your back, fear and worry clouding his head. “Fuck,” he curses, “fuck, fuck.” 

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” You breathe through clenched teeth, getting up to go to the bathroom. He quickly picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you on the bathroom sink, maneuvering around you so he could clean your wounds. You open your eyes, staring at his face. He’s focused, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he continues to wipe the blood from your open wounds before finally getting them to stop bleeding. You watch as he slowly starts to wrap you up with the gauze and bandages. 

You reach up, softly cupping his face with your free hand, making him halt his actions. His eyes meet yours, your reflection so visible in his pupils. Unsure of how long you stared into his eyes, he had somehow finished wrapping you up without taking his eyes off you. You could feel yourself inching closer, getting closer and closer to his face until you can feel his breath. His lips graze over yours and you flinch back, as if you haven’t kissed him before. It’s been a few months come to think of it, but still you shouldn’t be nervous. 

Logan just has that effect on you. It only takes a few seconds until your lips meet, kissing him gently, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. Fingertips brush the shore of his hair, almost like an invitation. 

And he takes it, kissing you with a little more vigor. His bloodied hand comes up to your face, smearing a little bit of your blood on your cheek. He’s careful with his movements, gripping your waist with his other hand to keep you up on the sink, to steady you. His kisses are starting to get more aggressive, pressing you a bit further back onto the sink.To make sure you don’t slip in, he reaches underneath you, his large hand coming to rest on your ass as he holds you still. 

You can feel that familiar heat start to pool between your thighs, and he can feel it too, or in other words smell it. Your legs clench around him, squeezing as if you're trying to pull him into you. He frees his hand from underneath you, feeling up the bare skin of your waist, his rough fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while he stares down at your semi-bare body, debating on unclipping your bra to feel you more. His breathing is rushed but even, mouth open. 

“Logan,” you breathe, coming out more as a desperate plea. He hums, pressing your lips together again, open mouth kisses, tilting his head for better movement and access. There’s a thin string of saliva that keeps your mouths connected when he pulls away. 

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, not only that but he could smell it too. Your scent was strong, if he got closer to your core it would be overwhelming, and he's not sure he’d be able to stop what he's started.. “You’re hurt,” he says quietly, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than you already are,.” 

“You won’t,” you respond, a smile on your kiss bitten lips, “Logan, please.” He kisses you again, slower and softer this time. “I can't,” he whispers against your lips, keeping them close even after pulling away again. 

“Why not?” you speak softly, scratching his scalp with your nails. He hesitates, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You know why.” He smiles, gentle and small before licking his thumb and wiping the small amount of blood off your face. “C’mon,” he mutters, lifting you off the sink. 

… 

Logan gave you all kinds of nicknames but your most favorite came from you showing up to his place with flowers. You loved orchids, always have so you bought a small bouquet of them to put on his coffee table. He accepted gracefully, and then from then on he started calling you by that name. A simple nickname but it was lovely.

 Orchid, my little orchid. A nickname uniquely your own (Orchids, love, beauty).

It wasn’t long before you two had officially agreed to being in a relationship, having a label. And not long after that you decided to move in with him, a bold move but you spend more time at his place than yours anyways. At night the moon will shine through the windows, lighting up the room with its cool toned glow. You’ll lay your head on Logan’s shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. You’ll both lie awake in silence while you draw circles on his chest with your finger. 

Some nights you’ll sit on his lap while his back rests against the headboard, your hands cupping his face. On occasion, you’ll run your thumb over his bottom lip until he parts them for you, then you’ll feel his abnormally sharp canines, his fangs. You test them, pressing the pad of your thumb into the sharp point to see if it’ll make you bleed but he always stops you before you ever do. When you're asleep he’ll stare at your face till morning, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. He stares at his dog tags around your neck, always warm from your body heat and always safe. 

He admires your beauty, especially when the sunlight hits you just right. When you're hiking in that tank top and whatever pants you decided to wear that day, he stares at your backside, your silhouetted figure. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, looking back at him with a smile, his eyes not only fixate on your face, but your scars. The scars he left engraved on your skin. 

The scars you admired, the scars that comfort you, a reminder of him always. 

It’s past 11 pm, you’ve been in the bath for almost an hour now, the water starting to get cold. The room is dark, only lightened by the light seeping through the open bathroom door. You lean back, head resting on the edge of the tub, fingers toying with Logan’s dog tags.

The familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the silent bathroom, Logan's heavy footsteps can be heard walking around, like he's looking for you. You slide down further into the bath, trying to hide yourself playfully, peaking over the edge while you wait for him. That's when he peeks into the bathroom, a smile creeps over his face when he sees you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” he says in that comforting gruff voice. He crouches down by the side of the tub, dipping his hand into the warm water. “Hi.” You smile, sitting up and resting your head on your hands, holding onto the edge of the tub. He brings a hand up to caress your face, gently rubbing the warm skin of your cheek. 

“What did you do today?” you ask, watching him reach for the loofa and dip it in the water. He grabs your arm gently, rubbing your skin softly with the item. “The usual,” he responds, staring at the suds on your skin while they wash away. You hum, sitting back in the tub again, making him let go of you and get further. “C’mere,” you beckon, tapping the edge of the bathtub. He complies, getting up and sitting down on the edge. He leans down so he could be close to your face. 

“I was thinking about you today,” he says softly, cupping your face, “I always am.” Smiling a little wider, you reach up with both hands, grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He kisses you back, much to your pleasure. You're quick to part your lips, giving him access to use his tongue. 

It's an aggressive kiss, open mouthed and borderline messy. He pulls away to say something but you block it out, too focused on the feeling of his lips to even notice. You try to pull him back down and you successfully do, he doesn't put up a fight or anything. The kiss becomes more vigorous, more violent but so passionate.

He slips, falling into the tub fully clothed, making the water rise and spill out over the sides. You laugh softly in which he responds with a small laugh too. He’s laying on your side, face inches away from you and just a little lower as he allows himself to slip into the bath more comfortably. Your lips graze over his again, his smile fades as he kisses you and then pulls away. 

You adjust your trapped arm behind his head, scratching his scalp as he gets closer and closer. Then he kisses you again, leaning his whole body forward and cupping your face with a wet hand once again. You close your eyes, but he opens his just slightly while his lips slowly slot against yours. Open mouth on open mouth, his lips never leaving yours. The only noise that fills the space is the quiet sound of water sloshing, soft breaths from the both of you while you kiss until practically sucking the oxygen from each other. 

Pressing his lips against yours a little rougher now, he eases on top of you. Your hands travel up and down his flanks and back, feeling him through his soaked clothes tight against his skin until you tug and pull at the bottom of his shirt. He sits back, breaking the kiss for once and taking his shirt off, immediately returning to your lips. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him press his hips against yours, his cock clearly wanting to be freed from the prison of his jeans. He can smell your arousal, your need for him. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck, kissing at the supple area while he struggles to grind against you. His fangs graze over your skin, making your body shudder at the feeling. 

Water spills out the tub with every erratic movement, but you can feel the warmth returning. He uses his other hand to hold the dip in your spine, making your back arch by habit, by command almost. Your eyes go all hazy and the more he presses his bare skin into yours you swear you feel like you're melting into his body. 

“I love you,” he whispers, into your neck. 

…

You loved flowers, always have. You loved what they represent depending on what type they were, you loved how colorful they usually work, how unique they are. You loved how they bloom again even after death, even after they've wilted and lost all their color. The petals turned into something wrinkled and rough, unlike their usual clear, softness. 

Even after they die, they still bloom again in springtime. Daisy, lavender, day lily, aster, they all bloom again. Flowers don’t mourn the dead, they respect it, embrace it. They become one with the dead, seeping into the ground and back into the earth in which a person is buried. 

To him, you were a flower. Delicate and soft, something he wanted to protect, to see everyday. Your color, he couldn't quite describe it but it was uniquely your own. Over 10 million colors and somehow when he sees you  and it's something separate from the million to choose from. When he thinks of you, that's the color he sees. When he thinks of you, he sees an orchid. 

But is a flower still a flower after all its petals have been ripped off, gored and left to rot and wilt on the ground. Is a flower still a flower after it's been torn out of the ground, roots ripped, its purpose gone?

You think of all the times you’ve woken up beside him, smiling when he opens his eyes, murmuring a soft “good morning” as he reaches up to touch your face. You remember the times where he would soothe you on your tough days, running a bath for you and gently rubbing the loofa on your skin. So many good moments, very few bad ones. 

Words of affirmation weren't your love language, at least not usually. But Logan had another super power, and it was exactly that. He knew what to say and how to say it at all the right moments. He was a generous lover, attentive, caring, when you were with him you felt like yourself. 

“Winter came early this year,” you hum, clutching the white orchids in your gloved hands, “my first one without you.” 

“I keep buying orchids for you, whenever I have the time. But even when I don’t you're always on my mind.”

You go silent, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes. “I just- I-” you stutter, voice breaking as you grip the flowers a little tighter. You fall to your knees, snow wetting your pants while your tears run down your face. Your sobs slowly pick up in volume every time you try to speak, only to get choked up and give up. “I just wanna see you,” you sob, pressing your face into the snow below, “I just want to see you.” 

You drag yourself further up the ground until you're met with the headstone, Logan’s name engraved on it, freezing to the touch. You press the flowers into the snow, laying down on top of them while your hands move to clutch his dog tags tightly around your neck. The snow and soil drink up your tears, and you can only hope they reach him.

 He was a flower, a dangerous one on the outside but oh so beautiful on the inside. But you seemed to forget one thing. 

Flowers don't bloom in winter.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I don't know flowers that well so forgive me flower fans ahaha

[only-luce-the-goose]

More than Nougat

Synopsis: You taught Jack about hickies and now he’s obsessed

Warnings: none really, just a whole lotta fluff

Nothing! There was absolutely nothing! No beer, no bacon, no nothing! And who would’ve eaten all the food and not replace it? The two black holes for humans you live with. The Winchesters, those boys with their bottomless stomachs drove you crazy sometimes. You’re half tempted to throw Jack into the accusation but he’s still figuring the foods he likes.

“I’m going on a supply run!” You shout through the halls. All you hear is a couple grunts of acknowledgement, until a voice behind you says “can I come?” You nearly jump out of your skin, not expecting to see Jack behind you. “You scared the shit outta be dude, but yeah, of course you can come” you answered him. “Sorry for scaring you y/n” he apologises.

You chuckle his apology off, trying not to let your heart run wild. Even though Jack was only, technically, a few years old, he resembled someone of your own age. This very quickly led you to falling for him, his newborn innocence, childish humour and clinginess (you loved though, let’s be real).

“Alrighty Jack, let’s go” you say as you lead him up the stairs, to the garage. You unlock your ‘64 Pontiac and hope in, turning on some background music before peeling out of the bunker.

“Can we have a movie night tonight, y/n?” The nephilim asks. “Absolutely” you reply “what do you wanna watch?” He sits there and has a hard think about it, “I don’t know, I’ll look up movies when we get to the bunker. Can we get snacks now though?” He asks. You nod your head as you park. You pull out a trolley and give it to Jack to push, while you wander around and get enough food to supposedly last a few weeks (you knew better than the expect it would last a few days).

Jack absolutely piles the junk food into the trolley, which gives you a good laugh, still enamoured with his childishness. He gives you a massive grin and keeps walking, always making sure to look behind him and make sure you’re still there. You head to the checkout and pay for the mountain of food you bought, Jack standing shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time, watching you interact with the register guy. Jack means his head on your shoulder after you pay and keep making small talk, even though you’ve finished all you need to do. Jack links his hand to yours to try and push his point, he doesn’t wanna be near anyone but you anymore.

After you get home, Jack wizzes off to the computer to search for a movie while you pack away the food, keeping out the snack for movie night. Jack comes bounding in a few minutes later, a dvd in hand, and says “I wanna watch this one” he hold it up for you to see. You look at him and asks if he’s sure, “I’ve never seen it so I really wanna try” he replies. You hold on your giggles as you make your way towards the dean-cave (you think it’s a silly name but whatever).

You press play on the movie as you and Jack get comfortable next to each other on the couch, sitting leg to leg so you can both reach the junk food. Sandy and Danny start singing on your tv screen and it has Jack laughing, you don’t know what at, but you don’t care. Getting to see Jack make you laugh makes your day a little brighter.

You get to the point in the movie when Rizzo appears with hickies from Kenickie. “Y/n?” Jack gets your attention as he taps your shoulder. You pause the movie as you turn to Jack, “what’s wrong?” Jack points at Rizzo and says “what’s wrong with her neck, who has hands small enough to punch her like that?” He ponders “or did she get bitten my a vampire? Some vampire bites look like that, don’t they?”

Jack looks at you concerned as you bust out laughing. “Oh Jack, those are called hickies” you tell him. He raises his eyebrow, almost like he want to ask something, so you continue. “When two people like each other a lot, some like marking their partner. It’s kind of like a possession thing” you can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to make sense of what you said.

“I like you a lot, and I don’t like when you talk to people that aren’t me, so do I put hickies on you?” Jack admits, a big grin adorning his plush lips. You feel a bit conflicted, maybe you didn’t make it clear enough that it was an ‘in love’ type of like, not a ‘just friends’ type of like and so you told him. “I don’t think you get it, it’s for people who love each other. Like want to get married and have a family, kind of love. Not the kind of love you have for friends”

His grin doesn’t falter, “I know what you meant, y/n, and I mean what I said. I like you a lot, the ‘love’ type of like. I wanna hold your hand, and kiss you, and I want you to give me hickies and I want to give you some too” if you were a cartoon, you knew you’d have hearts in your eyes and heart would be thumping out of your chest at Jacks brazen confession.

He watches you patiently as you lean over and peck his lips, testing to water. “I like you a lot too, Jack” you say as you make deep eye contact. Jack kisses you back grinning. “Can you give me a hickie y/n?” He asks shyly. “It’s kind of something you have to build up to. You have to start with marking out before you move to hickies” Jack smashes his lips onto yours as soon as you finish your sentence.

After showing Jack how to make out, you pull away which causes a small whine to rise from Jacks throat. “I’m gonna give you a hickie now, ok?” You say as Jack vigorously nods his head. You got back to kissing his lips, then start trailing them towards his neck. You spend a couple seconds looking around for his weak spot, knowing you’ve found it when he moans and bursts a light bulb.

You look up and see his eyes glowing gold “sorry” he says sheepishly. You kiss his lips, then go back to his neck. You suck and nip at the supple skin, causing all sorts of noises to come out of Jack. You pull back “that should give you a nice purple one in the morning” you say. Jack nods as you both lie down, his head on your chest as you doze off.

You wake up to Jack shaking you, “look, it’s here!” He bounces around, clearly happy to the new addition on marks on his skin when he says, “I think I like this more than nougat”

[thebluester2020]

Stardew Bachelors x Rude!Farmer Reader Headcanons

Summary: A new farmer has moved into Stardew Valley and...wait, how come they're always seen with a scowl on their face?! And why are they so mean?!

Warning(s): Fluff, Mean! Farmer, Doesn't contain all the bachelors! (I've only included Elliot and Sebastian since I didn't want things to become too long!), Farmer is low-key more of a tsundere to be honest, Slight favoritism to Sebastion at the end, !not proofread!

Note: As much as I love sweet-hearted farmers. I also love my mean, tsundere-esque farmers as well <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

:: Elliot had heard about the rumors a week before you arrived. That the grandchild of the late deceased farmer, who once cared for the old farm a little ways away from town, would be moving in soon. He thought a new face around town would be nice. After all, Elliot was fairly new to the town himself! He thought the two of you could share in your common experience of being new to the environment and possibly build a friendly bond.

At least…until the week you were supposed to arrive rolled around.

The rumors of you being rude. He swore they spread faster than you had actually been here.

First it was from overhearing a conversation between Gus and Lewis on Friday.

The way Lewis described you was like hearing a weary night regale his tale of how he narrowly escaped the fiery breath of a dragon. “They’ve…definitely got an attitude.” Elliot heard Lewis say.

“I’m struggling to find the resemblances. Looks aside, they’re rude! They threatened me the other day when I tried to ask if they could do me a favor!”

Elliot wouldn’t exactly deny that the possibility of you being rude made him nervous. Everyone in town was so nice that having someone mean would be like a black sheep sticking out in the middle of white sheep, you just wouldn’t belong. Yet when he had happened upon you once fateful morning on the beach/

“The hell you lookin’ at Prince Charmin’” You spat in his direction when he stared too long.

His eyes widened. “N-Nothing! Forgive me, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new here, that’s why.”

He cleared his throat. “So I see…” He stood in place a little while longer, observing you as you crouched down to collect items from the beach. Your appearance didn’t match your attitude, he thought. Your appearance was like that of nobility to him, graceful with certain details accentuating personality and your life on the farm.

From slightly muddied knees and a few scraps here and there.

But your tongue was like a freshly sharpened knife.

“The fuck?” You hissed at him again, snapping him out of his trance. “Who the hell you looking at? Got a problem?”

“N-No!” You dropped your bag full of items before you walked right up to him, your mouth nearly curling upwards like an angry feline.

“Yeah? You sure? You’re staring mighty hard for someone you A. Don’t know and B. Is just trying to go about their day! So what’s the problem?!”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry once again, it's just- I think you're really gorgeous to look at. The tales of your fiery temper did nothing to speak of your beauty as well." You paused at the compliment, your cheeks beginning to redden as your temper started to ease down considerably.

Besides the compliments towards the farm and your weapon prowess when you first joined the Adventurer's Guild. You didn't hear too many compliments about yourself, the only thing you'd hear was

"That new farmer is scary aren't they? They're completely unlike their grandfather!"

"Why did her grandfather entrust the farm to them? With their attitude, they'll probably soil the crops just from their glare."

To say it didn't hurt from time to time was an understatement. It wasn't your fault that you had a mean scowl on your face 24/7 and sometimes you had a habit of speaking about how you actually felt about someone before thinking about your words!

So, to hear a compliment? You couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter and your chest begin to warm.

Not that you would let this lonely beach writer who talked like some actor from Medieval Kingdom know that.

"...Thank you." You finally mumbled under your breath.

A smile graced Elliot's features. "You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you turned around to quickly pick up your backpack before walking off. But, not before Elliot could get another line in. "You should visit my cabin sometime! I love visitors!"

Although there was no response, for the next few months afterward, however, he kept strangely receiving duck feathers and ink bottles at his front door every other day...

Sebastion

:: The first time he had even heard the rumors of a new farmer. He was talking to his mother about her day and also alerting her that he would be out for a while riding his motorcycle. His mother had made sure to tell him to "be safe!" and likes before she told him that someone new would be moving into the old farm a little ways from town.

He hadn't thought much of it.

'Just another face in the crowd' he thought while also wondering why someone would even choose to go to this town where the most interesting thing that happened was when a slime got loose in the middle of town a while ago!

Until...the words of how rude and snappy you were began to pop up.

"That new farmer has no manners!"

"They're so mean..." He also heard Lewis say. "All I asked was for them to retrieve a...special item from Marnie's house and they said 'Get it yourself'"! Sebastion didn't see anything wrong with the supposed 'attitude' you were giving people in town, in his mind? He thought it was about time that someone had tried to bring a different energy to the town besides being yet another happy-go-lucky person who wanted to help everyone and anyone!

And even when he bumped into you one midnight evening...a sword in his hand as he wanted to go exploring the mines in order to try and put himself to sleep, his opinion of your supposed attitude remained the same.

Though, as he saw the piles of dead Shadow Brutes around...he did have a mind to be a little more weary of you. No one had told him that you were capable of slaying multiple Shadow Brutes on your own.

"You lost gloomy?" Were your first words to him as you pushed your hair back out of your face, snapping him back to reality.

He glared at you. "I could ask the same of you. Whose out fighting Shadow Brutes at midnight?"

"Me," You responded. "Something that I wouldn't expect you to do seeing how you're as skinny as a twig."

His mouth dropped a little, his annoyance with you growing as well as his interest of you. You were mean, that was no question but...unless his ears were playing tricks on him due to him not interacting with too many other people besides his friends.

He could've sworn there was a little bit of playfulness in your voice.

"I may be skinny but I've been down these mines before." He said, walking past you with a grumble as he started to look around the area for anything valuable.

As you looked Sebastion over, your mouth cracked upward a little more in an amused smile. You had just arrived at the valley, and joining the Adventurer's Guild was a good way to blow off some steam and clear your mind by fighting mindless monsters. You hadn't really thought about talking to any of the residents besides the essential ones such as Pierre, Robin and sometimes Lewis from time to time.

But, you were beginning to change your mind.

"You managed to make it all the way down to level 100 in the mines gloomy, maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me to level 120?"

Sebastion looked back at you with a huff. "You probably wouldn't want a 'twig' coming with you."

"Even twigs can have their usefulness, don't be a wuss."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a wuss."

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Then prove it! Killing those Squid Kids can be a tricky process at times." As you walked passed him, you playfully shoved him as a cocky laugh escaped you. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even upgrade from a twig to a branch."

He could've ignored you, he wanted to ignore you but...as you sauntered away cockily, climbing down one of the ladders into the next level. He couldn't deny that you were interesting despite your need to tease him despite the two of you just meeting, you may have had an annoyingly high urge to tease but...strangely enough?

He liked it.

[yuutasprincess]

Day 5: Ino Takuma

Word Count: 1.k Warnings: Pussy drunk Ino, super sappy I love him

The building before him hardly resembled what Takuma had anticipated, it’s clean and somewhat private. In front of him stood a blank wall, its sole feature being a solitary hole positioned at hip level. With a quick glance at his phone, Takuma composed one final message before tucking it away: ‘This is where you come?’ A faint vibration emanated from his pocket, but he paid it no heed as the sound of a closing door reached his ears.

‘I don't actually go there. Just messing with you!!Have fun!!!’ Accompanying the text were a series of laughing emojis and playful GIFs, all underscored by a mischievous selfie of Gojo, his hand obscuring a sly grin. 

Sucking at his teeth he unbuckles his belt, heat flooding his cheeks as he eyes the hole, “I’m not sure... Uhm, I’ve never done this.” his cock is flaccid as he pulls himself out, embarrassment eats at him as he tries to just do what Gojo told him. Just stick your dick in the hole and let her take care of you. He can’t believe he came here.

Your voice isn't what he expected it to sound like, nothing is the way he assumed it’d be. “That's alright handsome, let me see you.” His blush travels down to his chest, body warm at the smooth tone of your voice resonating through the wall. Ino knows you’re just flirting with him; you can’t really see him but the way your words bounce around his head have his dick hardening. 

Takuma half expected to be hunched over somewhere in a bathroom, cock shoved in a hole with the writing ‘insert here’ pointing down while a stranger sucked him off before he’d pay you and tear Gojo a new one for sending him there. 

He’s thick, not the longest but his dick is so pretty, angled to the left with a long vein on the underside. You can tell he’s cute, the way he mutters under his breath when he pushes his hips into the wall has you biting back a teasing quip. Taking him into your mouth there's already an ache in your jaw, he’s heavy on your tongue and doesn’t taste unbearable like the other men who visit you. Ino’s moans quickly become your favorite sound, breathless and choked up as his forehead meets the wall. 

With Takuma growing in your mouth you swallow around the bulbous head, breathing through your nose slowly you suck his cock until he's hitting your uvula and you're gagging. Throat tight and his dick warm between your tongue and the upper ridges of your mouth, “Ah- Shit, oh my god-” When you swallow again he whines, it’s candy in your ear and you tongue at his bulging veins until he’s pulling away from you. 

Shying back to his side of the wall he awes at the way your saliva coats his cock, “I’m not sure- where do I? Um” He can’t even feel embarrassed anymore, his whole body on fire, “Can I cum in your mouth?” You laugh. And the sound is so sweet, it’s airy and has him flustered as he pushes his dick back into the hole. 

Chewing at his lower lip, Ino cries at the way you kiss his tip, closes his eyes and imagines the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen cherishing his cock. He’s a romantic. Hands clawing at his sweatshirt when you trace his veins with your tongue, fingers wrapping around his base and pumping him softly. “You’re so big, so pent up.” Takuma can’t get over your voice, mouth dry as you squeeze him in your palm trying to make your fingers touch. “Such a pretty dick, maybe I’ll let you fuck me if you cum.” 

Ino entertains the idea of knocking the wall down, he could. But if anyone ever found out how desperate he was for pussy he’d die. He just knows your cunt would feel as good if not better than your mouth. The way you take him inch by inch, tongue lapping under his head has him gripping his hair, scalp burning when you take him all the way into your throat and moan around his length.

When he cums it’s in thick ropes, hot in your mouth while you keep him still with a hand at his base and another fondling his balls, “Shit, shit- oh fuck, so good” His voice is whiny, cock still hard in your hold as you swallow his cum and kiss the long vein running up the bottom of his dick. Takumas hips ache, stomach flat against the wall as he humps the air while you move away. He hears something rip before your hands are back on him, condom between your lips as you slide it on him. 

Takuma thinks he might seriously pass out when he feels you slide onto him, you’re so wet the stretch is welcome as he fills you. “I won’t last long, sorry.” Groaning into the wall he practically cries when you start to fuck yourself back into him, his own hips smashing into the wall and shaking it as he chases after your cunt.

Ino might seriously tear this wall down if it means he gets to feel your heat, he can barely hear you over his own panting. “Shit, you feel so good” He’s flattered, your praise making him cum as he stills himself and presses his lips tight to hide the whine trying to leave him. You're still using him as if the roles were reversed and he doesn’t dare pull away. Not even when the pleasure ebbs into pain, he lets you use him until you're clenching around him and pulling away with a wet pop. 

Your voice is a whisper while he’s still starstruck, face pressed against the wall heaving and slurring his words trying to thank you, “I don't do this, ever. But I’m out in an hour if you want to really thank me.” 

When Ino checks his phone again it’s with you on his lap in the back of his car, cock aching and leaking in your pussy as you sit still. You're putting your number in his contacts when you see the notification, “Smile handsome” With a hand holding his wet chin up you wink at the camera before sending it to whoever Gojo is with a plethora of smiling emojis and an “I did!!” that’ll be left on read for the rest of the night.

[new-revenant]

A So Called Tamaranean

Edit: Ao3 Link!

Danny falls through a portal leading to a world full of superheroes. Unfortunately, he happens to bare an uncanny resemblance to a certain race of aliens here-Tamaraneans.

So my post about Danny being mistaken for a Tamaranean is being seen by more and more people, so I’ve decided to finally post this one-shot I’ve made around the time I made the original post. I have no idea if I’ll continue this or not, I kinda just wanted to write about my little idea for a bit and figure out how to write Nightwing. I think he would good with kids. I also only refer to Dick with they/them pronouns because it makes it so much easier to differentiate who’s who when referring to someone.

☁︎

The last thing that Danny remembered was green. Lots and lots of green ectoplasm. And before that? He was trying to escape from one of the many dangers of the Ghost Zone. He couldn’t even see what it was, but he sure as hell could sense it. Both with his ghost sense, and by being beaten up by it.

He never meant to go so far from the portal, so far from his home. And he definitely didn’t mean to get hit right into a different portal.

When he woke up, he couldn’t sense any ectoplasm at all. Death and decay, however, he could sense. And smell. He mostly smelled burnt rock, just like all the other times he got slammed into the ground by ghosts. He really needs to learn how to dodge one day.

His eyes fluttered open, then closed them just as quickly as dust went right into his eyes. He had seen smoke and rock, just like he expected. He groaned, trying to push himself up, but fell in an instant. He was so tired. And yet, he could tell he was still in his ghost form. How could he still be in his ghost form when he had no energy left? He had no idea.

So Danny laid there, trying to think about where he could be and why was he stuck in his ghost form. At least he thought he was stuck in his ghost form as he usually turns back into a human when he passes out.

Then he heard something. Something other then the ringing in his ears. It was a voice, maybe a masculine sounding one, that had an “are you okay?” tone to it. Danny would know because he’d been asked that hundreds of times before whenever he’d gotten injured. Instinctually, he tried to say that he was fine, but all that came out was a whimper.

Then the ringing in his ears got quieter, and he could hear the stranger’s footsteps coming closer.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Danny could finally make out the person’s words. His eyes fluttered open again, revealing the person to have black hair, a pale face, and what looked to be a long black sleeved shirt with some blue on it, and a domino mask.

Was he in the 18th century again? Wait, had he’d ever been to the 18th century before? Well he couldn’t be now, not with the striking blue the guy had. Pretty sure they didn’t have blue dye like that back then. Oh god where the fuck was he? He had heard from all his ghostly friends-mostly Frostbite and Clockwork-that the Ghost Zone could bleed into other universes and timelines. Danny really hoped that was not the case. Danny had to get up.

He was in so much pain, his entire body stinging. But he pushed himself off the ground anyways, like he always did. When he sat up he saw the stranger stretch out their hand to him. Danny hesitated for a moment, before scrambling away from them because he did not trust them one bit. Well, maybe two bits but nothing more.

He hovered a bit off the ground, a good few feet away from the masked guy. They looked surprised, and looked at him rather analytically. Danny looked back at him analytically as well. The person seemed to wear this one-piece suit with black gloves and boots, with the wings of a blue bird-like symbol on their chest going across his shoulders and extending to their hands. They were lean and muscular and could probably take down many normal humans in a fight. And Danny.

Danny only hoped that this guy wasn’t some sort of weird murder or something. Maybe they were normal for this world’s standards. Maybe he was normal for this world’s standards. Probably not to be honest.

And then Danny was taken out of his questioning by a question posed by the stranger, “Are you a Tamaranean?” they asked. They weren’t speaking English, Danny could tell by the way their mouth didn’t match their words. Hurray for ghost speak.

“May-“ Danny coughed, his throat sore, but it was fine, he’ll get over it, he always does. “Maybe I am, why do you want to know?”

The guy smirked, making Danny feel a bit uneasy, “You did answer my question back in fluent Tamaranean.”

“So I did, again, why. Do. You. Want to know? How do you know about Tamaraneans? Who are you?” Danny was so confused about everything in this situation and he thought he asked decent enough questions. He had no idea what theses “Tamaraneans” were but he’ll play along as long as he won’t get shot.

“I’m called Nightwing,” they said calmly, “And I want to know what you are because I want to help you,” then they took a step forward. Danny was not expecting this and instinctively shot at them with ectoplasm. Danny yelped, both in surprise that he shot at them and at the fact pain almost immediately shot up his left arm. He could almost feel the nerves in his arm burn. That’s not good.

And yet Nightwing dodged it easily, skillfully, and didn’t seem too bothered by it. In fact, they seemed more concerned for Danny’s well being.

“I’m not going to fight you,” they tried to talk to Danny, “And I know how to help you, I’ve met other Tamaraneans, Tamaraneans who have powers like you.”

Okay so these Tamaraneans could also shoot green beams and fly, duly noted. And not all of them had these powers. God this place was weird. Danny couldn’t care about how weird he was or how weird his world was, but this place just felt weirder.

“You have?” Danny asked in a whisper to put less strain on his throat, floating down to the ground, holding his arm. “Who?”

“Starfire and Blackfire for one, those two have powers,” Danny noticed them happily say Starfire’s name and the tone of distaste they had for Blackfire. So Danny had an idea for which of the two was probably evil. Not really because the guy he was speaking to could still be evil and not to be trusted.

Nightwing then started to list more names of Tamaraneans, which Danny tried to pay attention to so he could give a good enough fake name to them.

“So kid, again, I just want to help you,” Nightwing bent down to one knee, like every non-teacher adult does when they want to talk to a small kid. “I may not know exactly what happened to you, but you don’t have to be alone.”

Danny didn’t expect to feel so...touched. Maybe this guy wasn’t too bad. Maybe he should just tell the guy what he was-actually that could still be a bad idea. Danny didn’t know if they would just flip like a dime and turn around and try to rip him apart. Molecule by molecule.

“What’s your name?” Nightwing asked. Their voice and face was soft, Danny noticed, but their body seemed alert, just ever so slightly tensed, ready for combat on a moment’s notice.

“My name…” Danny mumbled, looking away from Nightwing to think. In a moment of panic and many racing thoughts, he was able to think of something.

“Nightgale,” Danny said, a mirage of a smile on his face, “A bit like your name, isn’t it?” He was somehow able to remember that his last name used to be Fentonnightingale earlier in his family line, and got the name ‘Nightgale’ from it. Thank you infini-map.

“Yeah it does!” Nightwing laughed, “Well, it’s nice to meet you Nightgale.”

Danny really should’ve expected them to stretch out their hand again. He really should’ve been a bit less on edge then he was at that moment. And yet he shot Nightwing in the face when they tried to outstretch their hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to-oh no no no no,” Danny panicked, looking around to see where he could escape to and he was in a goddamn field with a city surrounding the entirety of the park. Danny just now realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was. He just shot his only hope at figuring out how to get home-probably, knowing his luck, definitely.

And yet Nightwing practically brushed it off. Yeah they stood up, stumbled backwards, swore in pain, and had to remove their mask for a quick second to rub their eyes, but then blinked a few times and seemed okay.

“Well that wasn’t as bad as when the other two did that,” Nightwing muttered in English, “Did the other two do that? Yeah probably. Anyways” -Nightwing switched back to speaking in Tamaranean- “It’s fine kid, you can calm down.”

So Danny did calm down. Mostly. Not really as he was still muttering apologies. His arm hurt even more now.

“I can ask Starfire to teach you how to control your powers,” Nightwing started. Danny has heard this spiel before, but this time he actually had a bit more trust in this random, and honestly somewhat terrifying stranger than he had with Plasmius. And Danny did not want to wait through it.

Danny grabbed Nightwing’s hand and looked up at them with the most pleading eyes he could muster. It worked as Nightwing’s face softened and they had finally shut up.

“Okay Nightgale, we’re going to go somewhere safe, then I’m going to get Starfire over to help you out, does that sound good?” When Nightwing asked that, Danny didn’t felt like he was being talked down to, unlike when other people said similar things. Maybe it was their tone.

“Where are we going? Where are we now?”

“Oh, right, I probably should’ve said that earlier. Well, for one we’re on the planet Earth, and right now we’re in Blüdhaven, New Jersey, the town I protect.”

“Protect?”

“Yeah, I’m a vigilante, which basically means I fight crime and protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

Ah, now things started to make sense. This guy is a superhero. No wonder Danny felt oddly safe being with Nightwing. They just radiated safety-ness. Danny’s eyes lit up with glee, someone he could finally related to!

Even while slinking into the dirty, bloodstained shadows of Blüdhaven, Danny was skipping around Nightwing. He was in a weird place and situation, but he felt like a giddy kid. Nightwing moved with precision and grace that Danny wished he had.

Danny saw billboards and signs that seemed to mention other heroes as the two went. Random people calling out to Nightwing when they saw them, Nightwing sometimes giving them a little wave. Danny mimicked them, and each time the people gasped at him. Danny was able to pick up that these Tamaraneans that Nightwing thought he was weren’t common, so that’s probably why they looked so shocked.

It was nice, and for a moment, Danny forgot that he was a stranger to this world-that he wasn’t supposed to be here. This place was new and exciting, yet familiar all the same. Maybe he’ll stay a little longer, it’s not like he could just will himself to leave anyways.

For now, Danny was just a kid, exploring a world similar to his own, yet alien at the same time.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You get your first taste of freedom from the constricting walls of the Earth Palace.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hello everyone and welcome to part two of the glass princess!! in the next few chapters we will be learning more about princess y/n and how she met zuko/the fall of ba sing se :) thank you all for reading!! and yes i did make up an entire spirit for the #plot 😭🙏🏻 i promise she will have significance to the story later on though!!

Although it was uncharitable, you could not help yourself from thinking that the only reason Long Feng was allowing your brother to keep that ridiculous creature around was because of its apparent resemblance to Quynh. In a way, it could be considered to have been made in her image, and Kuei knew that as well as you did, which was why he was currently leaping about joyfully, shaking you by the shoulders as if he were a child instead of a man.

“I’ve found him!” Kuei shrieked at you for the thousandth time. “I’ve found Quynh’s son! She hasn’t abandoned us after all, Y/N! She sent her son to me!”

“That ghastly, muddy creature is no child of Quynh’s,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the tufts of fur all over the fine carpet. “And Quynh never abandoned us in the first place. I do not know why you think that that is the case.”

“No one has seen her in nearly a century, and it’s been even longer since anyone found Quynh’s Door. If ever she was real, she left the palace long ago,” Kuei said. “Maybe she was never a spirit in the first place — just one of Bosco’s ancestors.”

“That is blasphemy!” you rebuked him. “Quynh is no Agni — she is a concrete spirit, not an abstract deity. If anything, she is far more similar to Tui and La, from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Who?” Kuei said.

“The ocean and moon spirits,” you said with a heavy sigh, once again finding yourself unimpressed by Kuei and his ignorance. “They live in the Northern Water Tribe and allow Waterbenders to bend.”

“Quynh doesn’t allow anyone to bend. She’s a different legend entirely. You should know that,” he said. You gritted your teeth.

“I wish you would pick up a book for once! It was an analogy, you fool,” you said.

“It matters not,” Kuei said after a second. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this fairytale, but the sooner you give up on it, the sooner you can find the wonder in the real world.”

“By the real world, do you mean my chambers?” you said. “Or yours? Because that is the extent of the world I know.”

“I mean the bear sitting before you at this very moment!” he said, ignoring your pointed response and gesturing towards his new pet with a flourish. “You are more taken with a made up story than an actual natural phenomenon. That’s a problem, dear sister.”

Bosco the bear grumbled at you in agreement, blinking his large, wet eyes at you. And perhaps you might’ve been impressed by his sturdy build and elegant snout, but all you could see when you gazed upon him was a cheap copy, a faded replica that could never hope to capture even half of the original’s glory.

“Well, dear brother, it can’t be helped. Your pet will never be Quynh,” you said.

“Always bringing down the mood, aren’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at you. “I wasn’t saying he was Quynh, I was saying he resembled her greatly. Anyways, you know stories always inflate their characters; for all we know, Quynh really did once look like this.”

You wanted to argue with him, but of course it would not be productive. Like the element he ruled, your brother was set in his ways — the only qualities he had in equal measure to stubbornness were cowardice and naïveté, both of which he was perhaps better known for. It was true, though, that when he gained a sense of conviction for something, he’d stand by it with a fervor that he rarely displayed otherwise. It was one of the few attributes you could genuinely admire him for, even if it was inconvenient at times.

“As you say,” you said. “I see no purpose in further discussions on the matter. You do not believe in Quynh, and I do. Neither of us can change the other’s mind, so we ought to just move on.”

“Compliment Bosco first,” Kuei said. “On my authority as the Earth King, I demand it.”

“You demand a lot of things on that tenuous authority,” you muttered. Then, you smiled at the piteous looking bear. “You truly deserve to be my brother’s companion. I am certain you are possessed with the same commanding spirit that he is so fortunate to claim.”

Kuei beamed at you. “Thank you. You can return to your room.”

You snickered at him. “It is appreciated.”

Only when you were halfway down the hallway did he shout in protest, realizing your thinly veiled insult. You sped up your pace, running towards your room before he could come and question you or make another demand — you did not put it past him to insist that you compliment his bear properly.

It was one of those ways you had to get back at him. You were ever searching for more, trying your best to needle the brother who was, whether directly or indirectly, the cause of your imprisonment.

Your chambers. His chambers. The hallway in between. These were the confines of your world, according to Kuei and Long Feng, who was his most trusted advisor. It would be dangerous, after all, for a girl with no bending and royal blood flowing through her veins to be wandering the streets without protection, even in a city as safe as Ba Sing Se. So although you had begged to at least see the kingdom which was your own, you had been promptly refused every time, the locks changed periodically and the guards rotated hourly to ensure they stayed alert to your movements.

Escape was impossible, but even in such a life, you could find solace: in your dressing room, a door would sometimes appear, a door which led to the heart of the palace — not the throne room, but the true heart upon which the entire structure was constructed. Quynh’s Den, the entrance to which was constantly shifting between the spirit world and the mortal one, was the only place you had for yourself, though of course you shared it with its other inhabitant: the great mother bear spirit Quynh.

It was there today. Ensuring that the entrance to your own chambers was sufficiently blocked, you did not even hesitate to pull the door open, ducking into the stone passageway behind it eagerly. The only light came from the glowing crystals overhead, but you knew the way so well that you could’ve tread it even with your eyes closed, so the dimness did not trouble you any.

It did not make sense for such a long, winding hall made entirely of stone to be behind your dressing room, but that was because the hallway was not truly there. The door was only a gateway to the realm in which Quynh’s Den resided, but that realm was somewhere else, in some intangible other dimension that did not quite obey the same rules as yours.

Time, too, felt strange in this place. You did not know for how long you walked; you never did. You could only keep going until the narrow passage opened into a large cavern, the walls of which were studded with the same glowing green crystals that the entire hall had been encrusted with. The majority of the space was taken up by a massive black form curled up on a bed of ghostly white moss, her head resting on paws that were several times your own size. You knew from past experience that if you were to stand right beside her when she was in such a position, you would barely even be able to peek over her nose.

“Quynh,” you said. Twin jewels blinked open — her enormous eyes were the same luminous shade as the crystals surrounding her, and they, too, shone with a mysterious, intrinsic power.

“Y/N,” she said, the cavern rumbling with the depth of her voice. “I was wondering when you would come again.”

“I come whenever you allow me to,” you said, moving so that you could sit in front of her. She huffed, tilting her head so that you could clamber onto her paw and lean against the plush fur of her cheek, which would be several times warmer than the cold stone floor.

“It’s not under my control,” she said. “You know my limitations.”

“Yes, of course I do,” you said. “That’s how it’s always been. I was just reminding you, so that you are not angry.”

“I do not blame you,” she said. “For not visiting. I know that you cannot unless the circumstances align. Rather, it is that I am bereaved when you are gone. It has been many years since I could say this with certainty, but the truth is that I miss your company.”

“And I, yours,” you said. “Though you should not feel too complimented by that. It is you or Kuei, and I am, as ever, irritated by him at the moment.”

“You should not quarrel with him,” Quynh chided you. “He is the only family you have. It does you no good to fight with him so frequently. You will be sad if something happens and those are the only memories you have of him.”

“I wish that you were not inclined to defend him!” you said.

“Whether you like it or not, he is of the same line as you. I love him as well, for that fact. I am bound to,” she said. You pouted.

“You ought to love me more. He doesn’t even think you are real,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s believed in you in decades.”

“A mother cannot declare favorites,” Quynh said diplomatically. “And so, neither can I. You ought to know this by now.”

“He’s found a bear,” you muttered obstinately. “It’s a disgusting creature. Rolls in mud whenever given the opportunity and barely knows to shut its jowls when it’s eating.”

“A bear?” Quynh said, one of her ears flicking with interest. “I did not know of any which existed.”

“I suppose there is this one,” you said. “He is a true bear; I have ascertained as much. He does resemble you, though it is in the way that quartz resembles diamond.”

Bear was not quite enough to encapsulate what Quynh was. Certainly, her form was as such, but she was in a sense phantasmic, and so ascribing a physical species to her was disingenuous. That was why you found it so grating that Kuei was frolicking about and proclaiming that he had found her equal — she had no equal. Quynh stood alone.

“It is unfair,” she said, “for you to hold that against him. If you were possessed with an uneducated eye, you, too, would mistake the quartz for the diamond. He cannot be blamed.”

“I would know,” you said. “Even if I were blind, I would know. The diamond possesses something which the quartz never can.”

“And what might that be?” Quynh said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “But there is some such quality.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you are upset about something entirely different and are taking out your frustration on an animal that cannot help its ancestry and a brother who is known to be a fool.”

“On that much, we can agree,” you said with a self-satisfied smile. “Kuei is a fool.”

“Y/N,” Quynh warned you. You hung your head in defeat.

“I asked Long Feng if I could leave again,” you said. “I thought he was in a generous mood, considering he raised no complaint about Bosco being moved to the royal chambers, but he refused! I told him I would not stray from my guards’ side, that I only wished to go for a matter of minutes, but still he said no.”

“Did he give his reasons?” Quynh said.

“The same as ever,” you said. “Until Kuei marries and has children, I am next in line for the throne. As the heir, I must be kept with the utmost of caution, and the only place I can be safe for certain is the palace.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” she said. “The world is dangerous. More than you might think.”

“I don’t think anything,” you said, though you immediately felt poorly for snapping at her. “I cannot even form an opinion on the city I might one day rule. What sort of a princess does not even know her subjects? To say nothing of my brother the king, who himself has not left the palace walls in years and is entirely comfortable with that! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why he has no desire to know his people, the very people who love him so dearly as to accept him as their ruler.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Quynh said, nudging you as gently as she could. “And your brother’s past shaped who he is now. You cannot blame him for desiring safety when he was there when it all happened.”

She spoke of your father. You had never met the man, for he had died days before you had been born, so you felt no grief at the reminder, but you knew it was not the same for Kuei. After all, your father’s death was the only reason your brother had taken the throne in the first place; a throne which, at his young age, he had been ill-suited for.

Due to Kuei’s fondness for animals, which he had had since he was very young, your father had taken him to the zoo for his birthday. There, a wayward assassin of the Earthbending variety had sent spikes of stone into your father’s heart, killing him before the guards could even react. It was all they could do to save Kuei and run — the assassin, as far as you knew, still walked free today, for they had been too concerned with your brother’s protection to chase after the killer.

The zoo was shut down. The child Kuei was crowned king, though your mother was deemed his regent. Days later, she fell gravely ill. Giving birth to you was the last thing she did — she never left the childbearing bed, using the final remains of her strength to push you out and hold you tightly against her chest until she stopped breathing entirely.

One child there for your father’s last moments. The other, for your mother’s. Quynh was not exaggerating in saying that Kuei was the only family you had left, but your lives had been so dissimilar as to be entire opposites. He had his ministers and advisors to replace the gap your father had left in his life. You had Quynh to serve as your mother, in whatever way she could.

“The guards will be vigilant,” you said. “And anyways, even if I am Kuei’s heir, I doubt that anyone would have cause to assassinate me. I am not important enough to the kingdom. If I were killed, Kuei would simply marry earlier, and have more children, so it would be a net loss for any assailants.”

“You know that I am not opposed to it,” Quynh said. “It is your brother and his advisors who forbid you; I am only reminding you to respect their wishes, for they, in some manner, have your best interests at heart.”

“But I am dying of it,” you said. “Every day I languish in the palace, I can feel my spirit being crushed by the ever-encroaching walls. My only respite is visiting you, Quynh, but even that is not enough. I am still captive.”

Quynh sighed. It was a great sound, whistling and low, teeming with disappointment and worry and affection, all in equal measure. You rubbed your hand against her fur, waiting for her response, though you doubted it would be any different than every other time you had asked.

“You want me to open a door to the kingdom,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “If I go alone, in the garb of a commoner, then I should escape notice entirely.”

“Alright,” she said. You opened your mouth to argue before closing it.

“Alright?” you repeated. “You’re saying yes? What about the usual rebuttals? It’s too much of a risk, Y/N, you won’t even be able to find Quynh’s Door.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You won’t have that guarantee, but of course, I can manually open doors back to the palace. The danger in this is that you will have to wait until I can open a door to allow your return, even if you want it earlier. As you well know, time is different here. I could open a door for you mere seconds after you’ve left, but that still might mean you must spend hours in the city.”

“I do not mind,” you said. “I will make good use of that time. But what has changed your mind? Why have you never offered before?”

“Something has come to the city,” she said. “I can feel it. There is a presence, or perhaps multiple presences, that can change the course of Ba Sing Se’s destiny — and, more importantly, of your family’s destiny. I am not sure, but I feel as if it is imperative that you leave, or else I will be depriving you of that destiny. And that unto itself is a fate, but not the one which you are meant to find.”

“Who are they?” you said. “These presences. How will I know that I’ve met them?”

“You won’t,” she said. “There is no way for any of us to know. Even they, themselves, may not yet be aware of it. It is just like that. You needn’t endeavor to find them; if you are meant to, you will.”

“I see,” you said, and then you leapt off of her paw, beaming up at her. “Then the only thing I will

“I hope you do,” Quynh said. “Furthermore, I hope you do not regret your decision.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “Thank you, Quynh.”

“It is my duty,” she said. “I am obligated to. To be sure, it is difficult, for there is always some difficulty when a mother must let her child go, but it is necessary. It is a story older than even I.”

“And this story is just as old,” you said. “That even when you let me go, I will return to you. Of my own volition, I shall return.”

“So you shall,” she said. “Go, then, Y/N. And return with as much haste as you leave, so that I may not miss you for too long.”

A new hallway formed in the walls of the cave, and without a backward glance, you walked towards it. Striding down the passage, you kept your eyes forward, knowing that if you turned around, you would see the stone closing behind you. You could not go back; it was not the nature of Quynh’s power. There was only one way to go, now that the decision had been made: forward.

All of the passages made by Quynh were the same length — barring the one behind the famed Quynh’s Door, naturally — so it was a trick of your mind that made the trek to Ba Sing Se seem longer than when you returned to your room from her den. Still, eventually, you came to another door, and your entire body shuddered in anticipation as you placed your hand on the knob, because this was the moment that you waited your entire life for.

Unable to delay for a second more, you swung the door open, taking your first step into the city of Ba Sing Se, your silk-slippered foot toeing delicately onto the cobblestones. Shutting the door behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to ascertain that it had disappeared. As you had expected, the wall was smooth and bare, giving no indication that there had ever been an exit in the first place.

There were people everywhere. You had never witnessed such a large crowd before; people milled about by the fading light of the setting sun, jostling one another as they rushed to and fro. At the fringes of the throng, two men with long torches went about lighting the street lamps, though they took their own time doing so, talking and laughing with whichever passersby that they recognized.

Another person might find the chaos to be ugly, hideous in its disorder, but you found a kind of mystical appeal to the hustle of the street. These were people who were living their lives as they were meant to, with no awareness of the simple freedoms and small joys they possessed. They gave no care to the idea that their daily lives were so remarkable to you, that their going-ons were the most wonderful thing you had ever seen.

You were too afraid to step into the sea of people, so you stayed along the sides of the road, admiring them, watching them, wanting more than anything to be one of them. But of course you were not. You would never be.

The door had spit you out near a small tea shop. It was not run down, exactly, but it was lived in, homey, the wood polished and the chairs worn. You opened the door to the establishment, but found it to be devoid of any patrons. There was only an old man behind the counter, sorting the change with toughened hands, though he looked up when he heard the bell chime announce your entrance.

“Hello, miss,” he said. “I’m afraid we are about to close for the night.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you said. “I wasn’t wanting tea, anyways. I was just admiring your shop.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, grinning at you. “Though it’s not my shop, so I can’t claim to have any hand in the decor.”

“It smells so lovely,” you said. “It reminds me of a very beautiful thing, though I can’t name which.”

“Flowers?” he guessed. “Maybe a garden full of jasmine blossoms, their petals facing the moon, with a few drops of rain scattered about on their surfaces?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, amazed at his accuracy. “How did you know? That was exactly correct.”

“It’s the new blend of jasmine tea we’re brewing for tomorrow. My nephew picks the flowers himself, so that we can be sure of the condition of the jasmine before we make the tea. It’s the best way to allow the flavors to come through!” the man said.

“Wow,” you said. “I never knew there was so much thought put behind tea. I just drink it.”

“Most people don’t care enough,” the man said with a nod. “That’s what sets our tea apart. It’s only when you pay attention to the most minute details that you can ensure your final product is as close to perfection as can be found in a teacup. It’s a grave sin to think that tea begins and ends with the boiling of water; in truth, it starts when you plant seeds in the soil.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” you said. “Though I hadn’t it until now. Thank you for telling me. I shall pay more attention the next time I have tea; perhaps then I, too, will be able to understand its origins from a mere sip.”

“It takes practice,” the man said. “But no harm ever befell the man who paid attention. Or woman, in this case.”

“Of course,” you said. “But I should leave you to close. I apologize for bothering you in the first place.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man said, waving you off. “It’s always a delight to have a conversation with a willing partner.”

“The delight was mine,” you said.

“Do come again!” the man said. “Perhaps earlier in the day, though. I can serve you tea — or, better, I can make my nephew do it. I think he’s about your age, and he is wanting for friends. But don’t tell him I said that! He’s not aware of it quite yet.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. You had never met someone your own age, nor had you ever had a friend — Quynh and Kuei were your family, for better or for worse, and the servants never dared speak to you beyond the barest of formalities. So, in a way, you were alsowanting for a friend, but you could not tell the man this. Instead, you smiled slightly at him, bowing your head in gratitude.

“I should like that,” you said. “If ever I am nearby again, I will surely come.”

As the night stretched on, the streets began to empty — or was it that you were wandering further and further away from the main crossroads? Regardless, there was certainly a shift in the air, and it was only when you entered a deserted neighborhood that you realized there had been footsteps following you for quite some time now.

Turning around, you saw no one. The streets were devoid of life. The footsteps had stopped, but you could not help the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Where was the door? It had been long enough — you should’ve been able to find it by now. You should’ve been able to go home by now. But there was no door. You were alone, and you suddenly understood why you had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

“Who goes there?” you said. “I — I am armed, so show yourself, but proceed with caution!”

“Armed?” a voice said. “Don’t fool yourself, your royal highness. Everyone knows you aren’t armed.”

“Your royal — how do you know who I am?” you called out. “Coward! You dare to hide in the shadows and hurl such insults at me?”

Your response was an enormous boulder shooting towards you. You squealed and dropped to the ground, covering your head with your hands as the boulder smashed into the wall behind you, bits of rubble raining down. There was a stinging pain on your knee, and you frowned as you realized that you had scraped it when you had initially dodged.

“What are you doing?” you said. “You will kill me! Stop it! You craven hound, I command you to stop what you are doing and face me like a man! If you cease your actions and explain yourself at once, I shan’t have you put to death. I will even pardon you of your every crime!”

Again, no response, and your heart dropped as you realized that might be his goal. What other reason would the man, who apparently knew your identity, have for attacking you? It was unfathomable, but you were reminded that it had not been so long since your father had been assassinated. Whatever sentiments had driven that attack…what if you had been wrong? What if you were, for whatever reason, the target for the next assassination?

It reminded you of a story, one you had read on the tenth anniversary of your father’s death. You thought it might comfort you, or more specifically your brother, to read the tale of another king who had been assassinated but whose reign had continued on regardless; in truth, though, only one quote had stuck with you, and this quote was neither comforting nor kind.

Sometimes, these things just happen, it had said. Kings are murdered. There isn’t always an explanation. Sometimes, the only reason is the action itself. Sometimes, people just kill for the spectacle of killing.

Maybe that was the case. Maybe you were just going to be killed for the spectacle. The show. The king’s beloved sister, murdered in his own city, the safest city in the entire world.

Right when the second boulder was about to hit you, there was a metallic sound, and then something sliced through the boulder, cutting it in half before it could reach you. When you looked up, there was a man in black standing in front of you, twin blades held in each hand, his posture confident but wary.

“Who are you?” you said. The man did not respond, scanning the area. He must’ve determined it to be safe, as abruptly, he relaxed his stance, sheathing the swords and then shifting to face you.

You could not stop yourself from yelping. Instead of a face, there was a blue mask regarding you, frozen in a grotesque grin, though when you got over your initial surprise, you realized you recognized the guise.

“The Blue Spirit?” you said. He nodded. “I’ve read the play, but I didn’t realize that you were — that you were a real being!”

The Blue Spirit was motionless in the wake of your words. Or, no, that was not correct. It was not that he was motionless, but that every part of his body was constantly shifting and changing, on high alert, so that the sum total was a man that was both ever at rest yet ever moving.

You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to hurt yourself on the scattered stones surrounding you both, and just then, right behind you, a door appeared. You laughed ruefully at the ironic timing.

“What were you doing here, anyways?” you said. He mimed opening his hand; you did so, your palm facing the sky, though you had no idea what he planned to do with it. But he had saved you, so you thought that there was no harm in trusting him for a moment longer.

He did not do anything as dramatic as grabbing it or carving his name into it. He just dropped something into it, something soft and light and white.

Jasmine flowers. The delicate cups of the blooms were opened, seeking out the moon, and twinkling in the starlight against the silky fibers of the petals were a few drops of water — holdovers, you assumed, from the day’s rainfall.

You closed your fingers over the flowers, careful not to crush them in your fist. You did not know what they meant — an offering? A price? Something else entirely? Regardless, you knew that they were important, and you vowed to reread the story of the Blue Spirit once you returned home, so that you could understand their significance.

“Thank you,” you said. “For the flowers, and also for rescuing me. If we should ever meet again, then I will thank you in a better way, but for now, I have to go. The longer I linger here, the more danger the two of us are put in.”

Opening the door, you took a step in, but before you closed it, you looked over your shoulder, back at where the Blue Spirit had stood. That strange person…you owed him your life. The least you could do was look back at him, afford him a final glance before you sealed yourself away entirely.

When you turned, though, he was already gone. The only proof that he had ever been there in the first place was the flowers in your hand, the pluming dust in the air, and the heart which steadily beat in your chest — that beat which meant you were still alive, at least for now.

You did not stand there and mourn his absence. Allowing the door to swing shut and the passageway to close behind you, you began to walk home.

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