#Storm 3 Full Burst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satellite-evans · 15 days ago

Text

Bisous

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: Charles' daughter loves to prank him <3

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The morning sun began its slow ascent over the horizon, filtering through the sheer curtains of your Monaco apartment. The soft, honey-hued glow that spread across the room seemed to breathe life into every corner. The elegant furniture, a blend of sleek modernity and comfortable coziness, caught the light in just the right way, creating an atmosphere of peaceful serenity. Outside, the sounds of the city were a distant hum—a low, constant pulse that blended with the faint rustling of leaves from the balcony plants, which swayed gently in the breeze. Every so often, you could hear the soft cry of seagulls soaring above the harbor, a reminder of the water that lay just beyond the city’s edge. Together, these sounds formed a comforting melody, one that had become the soundtrack to your mornings. It was a rhythm you cherished deeply, a moment of stillness amidst the sometimes overwhelming pace of life.

The rich, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted from the kitchen, swirling through the air and wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. It was your daily ritual—the one constant in your life that always brought a sense of calm. The familiar scent, warm and robust, settled in your chest as you took a slow, deep breath, savoring it. No matter how chaotic the rest of the day might become, this quiet moment was yours. It was the calm before the storm, the stillness before the world outside demanded your attention.

However, as is often the case with motherhood, this tranquil morning wouldn’t last long.

The soft, rhythmic sound of tiny feet pattering against the hardwood floor quickly broke the serenity. You turned just in time to see Amelie—your 2.5-year-old whirlwind—darting through the living room, her chestnut curls bouncing with every step. She was full of energy, her cheeks flushed with excitement, as she chased Leo, the family dog, around the room. The dog, who was equally enthusiastic, skidded around the furniture, dodging her tiny hands that reached for him. Her laughter echoed throughout the apartment, a sound so pure and infectious that it filled the space with a warmth only she could bring.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the playful scene unfold from the kitchen. Despite the exhaustion that motherhood often brought, these moments—these bursts of joy—made it all worth it. The sight of Amelie, with her sparkling eyes that seemed to mirror Charles’ in their depth, and her tiny arms flailing as she ran after the dog, made your heart swell. She was the perfect blend of him—her father—and you.

It was almost hard to believe how fast she was growing up. Just a few months ago, she was still babbling nonsensically, and now she could say over 180 words (yes, you had counted them all), stringing together simple sentences that left you in awe. The way she repeated words, mimicking both you and Charles, was nothing short of miraculous. Each new sentence felt like a little victory, a reminder of how quickly time passed.

Amelie’s bond with Charles was a thing of its own. The two of them were inseparable, a pair that seemed destined for each other from the moment she was born. When Charles was home, she followed him everywhere, clinging to him with a love that was both adorable and touching. It was no surprise that her first word had been ‘Papa.’ Whenever Charles was around, her little world seemed to revolve around him, her every action drawing him into her orbit.

Today, though, was different. Today was special. Charles was finally coming home after weeks of being away for races. The moment Amelie heard the news that morning, she could hardly contain herself. She’d been bouncing on the bed, her tiny legs kicking in excitement, her high-pitched voice squealing with joy. "Papa come today! Maman, me excited!" she had exclaimed, her face lighting up with the kind of joy that only a child could express.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling her into your arms for a quick hug. "I know, baby, I’m excited too," you said softly, brushing her curls out of her face. "But you have to save some of that energy for Papa so you can play together later, okay?"

Amelie nodded, her excitement practically radiating off her. "Otay, Maman," she had replied, her eyes gleaming with anticipation and went straight to the living room.

That promise was long forgotten as she was now chasing Leo around the living room, they were running around as though the whole apartment was their personal racetrack. The scene was one of pure chaos, but it was the kind of chaos that made life so full.

"Amelie Leclerc, can you please stop chasing Leo?" You called out playfully, though you could barely keep up with her giggles and the sound of her tiny feet tapping across the floor. You tried to grab her, but she managed to duck away with a squeal of laughter, running in the opposite direction.

Despite the exhaustion you could already feel creeping in, you couldn’t help but smile. Watching her run, her little body so full of life, it was impossible to not be filled with love. You finally caught her, scooping her up into your arms, the warmth of her small frame against you grounding you in the moment.

"What's up with you, young lady? Where is all this energy coming from?" You asked, brushing the hair out of her face. "It’s not even noon yet, and Maman is already tired." You teased, brushing the hair out of her face.

You carried her to the kitchen and began preparing her breakfast. Charles had always been very careful about her diet, ensuring she had balanced, healthy meals, and you followed that lead. Today’s breakfast was simple but wholesome—milk, cereal, a little fruit, and a slice of whole wheat toast, all made with love. She ate everything, happily chatting about how she was going to greet Charles and show him her new toy car collection. Her excitement was palpable, filling the space around you with a warmth that seemed to echo the sunlight streaming through the windows.

After breakfast, you helped Amelie get ready, brushing her hair and letting her pick out a pink bow to match her outfit—a red Ferrari T-shirt and tiny denim shorts. As she twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror, she beamed with pride. "Look, Maman! I am beautiful!"

Your heart swelled with love for her, your eyes soft with affection. "Yes, you are, honey—the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," you told her, your voice thick with emotion.

Just as you were about to sit down on the couch, the front door creaked open, and the familiar sound of Leo’s excited bark filled the apartment. The dog’s tail wagged furiously as he bolted toward the door, clearly recognizing the scent of the one person he always welcomed with open arms—Charles. You turned toward the door, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw your husband step inside, his face lighting up the moment he saw you.

Leo sprinted toward him, jumping up to cover him in kisses, and Charles laughed as he crouched down to greet him. "Hey, Leo! Did you take care of our girls? Good boy!" he chuckled, scratching the dog’s ears.

You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hey, baby. Welcome home," you whispered against his skin, your heart racing at the feel of him in your arms once more. His familiar scent enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

Charles’s response was immediate. He cupped your face with both hands, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. A soft, needy sigh escaped him as his lips trailed down to your jaw, then to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and his hands roamed down your back, pulling you tighter to him as though he never wanted to let go.

"God, I missed you so much," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slid into your hair, gently tugging you closer, burying his face in the softness of it. "I thought about you every damn day. Your scent... the way you feel in my arms… I couldn’t wait to come home to you guys. Speaking of, where's Amelie? I missed her like crazy."

That was a good question. Normally, Amelie would be the first one to run to him, her little feet pounding against the hardwood floor as she squealed with excitement. But today, when you turned to see her, there she was, still sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, completely oblivious to her father’s return.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “Amelie, look! Papa is home! Aren’t you happy?” You called out gently, stepping toward her with Charles following close behind. The two of you sat down in front of her, a bit hesitant, unsure of what was going on.

Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Hey, chérie, Papa is home! Didn’t you miss me?” He gave her a hopeful smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness, clearly wondering if she’d forgotten him after all this time.

You joined in, trying to jog her memory. “Amelie, remember how excited you were this morning? You even picked your outfit for Papa.” You smiled as you spoke, trying to make the connection for her.

Amelie paused, still staring at the TV, her little fingers absently tracing the edge of her shirt. Then, without any warning, she leaned in and gave you a big, sloppy kiss right on the lips, her face lighting up with affection. “MUAH! Maman, I love you,” she said in her sweetest little voice, her eyes sparkling with pure love.

You were taken aback for a moment, smiling warmly at her. You could feel the surprise and confusion rising in Charles’s gaze, his mouth slightly open as he looked from Amelie to you. Why wasn’t she rushing to him, as she always did?

The silence hung in the air for a moment before Charles spoke up again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I knew it. She forgot me! Mon Dieu, my own daughter forgot me!” He let out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest in mock despair.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though a part of you shared the same confusion. You reached over and gently placed a reassuring hand on his chest, your thumb brushing over his shirt as you looked up at him with a small smile. “Relax, Charles. She was ecstatic this morning. Maybe she’s just shy. You know how she can get when she's in a new mood.”

Charles gave you a skeptical look, but before he could say anything else, Amelie turned toward you again and planted another kiss on your cheek. “MUAH! Maman is mine,” she said, giggling as she gave you a tight hug.

The affectionate gesture only made Charles’s face drop even further. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “I’ve been replaced, haven’t I? She’s all yours now, Maman.”

Just as Charles began to stand up, clearly disheartened, Amelie’s expression suddenly shifted. A twinkle danced in her eyes, and before either of you could react, she burst out laughing, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Surprise, Papa! I joke youuu!”

With a squeal of laughter, Amelie jumped off the couch and ran straight into Charles’s arms. He was caught off guard for a moment, but then, as if on instinct, he swept her up into his arms, his heart visibly lifting as he pulled her close.

“Oh my God, Amelie, you pranked Papa! You got me so good, chérie!” Charles laughed, his voice full of relief and pure joy as he kissed her cheeks over and over, showering her with affection. “Papa thought you forgot about him! You’re going to be trouble, little one.”

Amelie giggled, her tiny hands grasping his face, and with all the innocence of a child, she responded, “I remember you. Always. I love you, Papa.”

Charles’s eyes softened, and he blinked away a tear that had unexpectedly formed. He held her tightly, his voice full of emotion. “I love you too, mon amour,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

You watched the scene unfold, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. It was moments like these that made everything worthwhile—the simple, genuine love and affection that filled your home.

Amelie, still clinging to her father’s neck, turned toward you eagerly. “Papa, play cars with me now?” she asked, her voice full of anticipation.

Charles smiled, the familiar light returning to his eyes as he nodded. “Of course, let’s go! But first, a big group hug.” He pulled you both in close, wrapping his arms tightly around you and Amelie. The three of you stood there for a moment, savoring the closeness, the warmth of your little family.

“I love my girls,” he whispered, his voice filled with adoration.

You kissed his cheek, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love in your heart. “And we love you too,” you replied, your words sincere and full of warmth.

633 notes · View notes

vi-tamine · 2 months ago

Note

hey!! would you write vi with childhood crush!reader and they've spent years liking each other but were too oblivious/insecure to confess, then vi gets with caitlyn in s1 leaving reader heartbroken but then they break up so vi and reader finally get together? like a angst to fluff... only if you dont mind obviously!!

after the storm (vi x reader)

words: 2,7k (oh... my god...)

genre(s): fluff and angst

warnings: kind of drunk vi, vi x childhood crush!reader

n/a: maybe I've gone a little overboard with this request but omg I had such a good time writing about my girl…. little reminder that english isnt my first language, im sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes <3 hope u enjoy!

When you were younger, you frequented the famous The Last Drop in the undercity, where you became friends with a small group of somewhat brothers. You frequented that bar because, apart from the fact that they had a delicious tomato juice that you had never tasted anywhere else, there was a certain pinkhead girl who had accepted you into the group and integrated you into it as if you had always been part of it.

You both had very different personalities, while she was hard, determined and direct, you were more quiet and reserved in certain aspects. And yet, you complemented each other perfectly. You admired her a lot, or so you thought.

Little by little, you both grew to trust each other. You frequented her space, she invited you on adventures with her group and she told you things she couldn't tell her younger sister or her brothers.

You wanted to mentally beat yourself up when you realized that you no longer saw Vi as a friend, but that you were beginning to feel a certain attraction to her. They were confusing feelings for you at the age you were. You never said anything because you finally had a friend you felt you could count on and you didn't want to spoil your friendship with those silly feelings you were sure you could ignore.

One day, the subway city seemed to go to hell and was covered in mourning. Vander passed away and you never heard from the boys, Powder or Vi again.

You attended to one last customer as you escorted him to the door, said goodbye in a light whisper and closed the door as you turned the Closed sign. After your mother's passing, leaving you completely alone in the undercity, you took over your business, a humble junkyard frequented, as far as you knew, by some of Silco's henchmen.

Leaning on the counter, you noticed that one of the shelves was missing a few knick-knacks, and frowning you realized that the wretch had stolen them. You cursed to yourself as you lightly tapped the counter. Since that day had been hard days for you, you were facing the world all alone. You knew that Powder, or Jinx, as she now called herself, was “fine”, but you still knew nothing about the others, not even Ekko, with whom you had exchanged a few words.

You heard knocking at the door. “Closed, it says so on the sign” you shouted from inside the shop as you finished packing up. Still, the knocking did not stop.

Snorting, you headed for the door, opening it in complete anger. “It's closed! Don't you know how-” you shut up when you saw the person in front of you. That totally unmistakable pink hair, the freckles on her nose and her powder blue eyes staring straight at you. “Vi?” you muttered in a whisper. You felt her arms wrap around you tightly, and you still confused, it took you a little while to return her embrace.

You felt the warmth of her body against yours hit you full on, and you definitely felt like you were going to burst into tears. She was so beautiful, grown up, more grown up, stronger, more everything.

“Where were you all this time?” you mumbled asking into the crook of her neck, still not letting go of her arms. “Stillwater” she replied in a whisper, still wrapping her arms around you. You stood for a while longer holding each other, you had needed this for a long time, and to be honest, you had to hold back the urge you had to cry.

“You're... so changed” she murmured once she broke away, looking you up and down, ending up in your eyes. You let out a giggle.

“Not you, you look the same. You have the same punk face you had seven years ago” you joked with her while you gave a light tap on her arm, noticing how stiff it was. Seeing her made you feel strange, you felt the same as when you were little, you still had that feeling towards her, but it was possible that having seen her again after so many years, had increased those feelings. “How did you get out of jail? And why did they arrest you in the first place?” in Zaun the word was spreading fast, but from that day on you shut yourself away from taking care of your mother and the store, you didn't know anything about what had happened. Vi gave you a brief summary, told you everything that happened that day and how it all went. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, a piece inside you shattered as you learned of your friends' passing.

“And about how I got out...let's just say the council got me out” you arched an eyebrow at her response. What would the council want her for?

The door burst open. A girl, who looked about your age, blue hair and slanted sky coloured eyes, appeared in this one. You frowned, for she did not look like someone proper from Zaun, despite her robes.

“Vi? You got it?” the girl spoke to the girl. Confused, you looked at her.

“Have what?” you asked, looking at your once friend. She looked at you, you watched as she swallowed, and when she was about to speak, the taller one cut her off.

“Information. About Jinx” your gaze shifted to the stranger. Her gaze towards you, while trying to be neutral, you could sense a bit of distaste in it. You didn't understand anything, but what you did seem to understand was that they knew each other.

“Give me a few minutes, cupcake” you felt something inside you snap a little more. the taller one snorted and walked out of the store again, slamming the door behind her. What's wrong with her? you asked yourself, still staring at the door.

“Who is she?” you asked in a whisper.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, the officer who pulled me out of Stillwater” Vi replied as she shrugged her shoulders. You mumbled lightly. You had a lot of questions.

“Cupcake?” you asked in a mocking tone, though to be honest, you hadn't been the least bit amused. A few years ago it had been you she called in that nickname, “because you were so sweet, like a cupcake” she had once told you. “Are you with a piltoverian?” you asked, this time, raising your voice a little higher than you would have liked.

“What?” Vi shrugged. “What's your problem? It's not like you released me from prison, honey” she teased wryly as she looked directly at you. At this point, you got the feeling that Vi had forgotten her entire past, or at least a past where you belonged in her life. Years ago you thought she might reciprocate your feelings, perhaps. Now it was clear that had never been the case for her.

“Go away. I don't have any information from Jinx. Ask somewhere else” you spoke softly. You really were out of strength to fight. You didn't want to, at least not with her. Taking her by the shoulder you accompanied her to the door, and opening it, without saying goodbye, you slammed the door once she set foot on the street. You closed the door with every possible lock.

“Anything?” ”Nothing. Never mind, we'll ask at the brothel” after those murmurs on the other side of the wall, you couldn't help but feel your tears start to fall one after the other more and more abundantly. You felt a pressure in your chest, you felt full of guilt. You were alone again, with your heart hanging in your hands.

You thought maybe you had overreacted, that you shouldn't have treated Vi like that after not having seen her for so many years, but your feelings got the better of you.

And once again, you decided to disengage from the issue and whatever happened from that point on.

One more day in your routine, you closed the store once the last customer of the day had already walked through the door to go out into the street. As usual, you swore on the sign indicating that the store was closed to the public, and began to sweep and tidy up the shop to have it ready for the next day first thing in the morning.

The last six months had been an odyssey for you. You did not stop hearing everywhere you went about the return of Vi, about everything that was happening in the city above and especially what was happening with Jinx. You stayed on the sidelines, even though wherever you went you were gathering information.

You had been thinking a lot during this time, thinking about the pinkhead and how everything could have been different if only the Piltover girl had not been there. You didn't blame Vi, you knew she had every right to hang out with whomever she wanted, but you couldn't help but feel angry and jealous at the slightest thought that she would never be with you.

You heard a knock at the door. You sighed, you were not in the mood for this kind of nonsense. You ignored the knocking, the sign was clear, they would notice. Even though you kept sweeping and cleaning, the knocking didn't stop and your patience was limited. Just as you were about to say something to the person who kept insisting, the sound of the door opening startled you. You turned to complain, but you saw her.

She was significantly changed. Her pink hair was badly dyed a very dark black color, and her eyes were made up in a totally disastrous way. She was dressed in black and several bandages covered various parts of her body. You frowned at the sight of her looking like that.

“Did you fall in a puddle of oil?” you asked as you went back to your work. You heard her snort. Glancing sideways at her you noticed she was wobbling a bit, and taking a couple of steps forward, she looked like she was almost going to fall, leaning against the counter. You put the broom aside and approached her, the smell of alcohol becoming more and more present. “Have you been drinking?” you asked. She simply nodded. You snorted a little and bit your tongue.

You slipped one of her arms over your shoulder, and holding her by the waist, guided her to the back of the store to go upstairs to your apartment. She stumbled over her own feet as she walked, making your steps clumsy as you climbed the stairs. She mumbled things you couldn't understand, but she seemed hurt, for some reason.

Once you got up to the apartment, you directed her to the living room to sit her carefully on the couch. She looked at everything with curiosity, and in silence, you went to the kitchen to bring her a glass of water. You held the glass out to her and she, with a murmur of thanks, took a sip.

“It hasn't changed a bit...” she murmured still observing the humble decor of your living room. “And your mother? How is she?” he asked awkwardly. You didn't answer, didn't even look at her, just shrugged. Vi got the message right away. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't- fuck, sorry” she mumbled setting aside the glass.

“Why did you drink so much?” you asked leaning against the back of the couch. Vi did the same, settled back and let out a sigh. She even seemed to find it hard to speak. “Drink water” you took the glass again and held it out to her. She heeded and took another sip.

“Things aren't going well...” she muttered. You knew what she was talking about, nothing was right when a war between two cities was about to explode.

“Something I heard” you simply mentioned. Vi looked at you. The only thing she thought when she looked at you was that the dim light coming through the window really fell in a very angelic way on your body. She always thought you were a jewel in the rough, someone who didn't have to belong to this city, someone who deserved better from everything life had given her. “Your girlfriend? All good with her?” when she heard those words come out of your mouth she frowned and growled.

“No,” she replied. She didn't add anything else. You didn't want to ask either, you supposed that also added to things not going well.

“I'm sorry” you mumbled. You weren't sorry. If you had to be honest, you were kind of glad it hadn't worked out with that girl. The atmosphere was starting to feel tense as you weren't talking anymore. You listened to Vi take sip after sip of water. She started to sit up a bit, you took it for granted that she was starting to sober up and become more aware of the situation.

Still silent, you felt her head rest on your shoulder. “You don't know how much i've missed you all these years” she murmured. You felt her hair brush against your cheek, and you couldn't help but fall into nostalgia, letting your cheek rest against her head. “I've missed you so much too, Vi...” you felt her hand brush against yours before taking her fingers in yours. Her hand was warm, unlike yours, which always had cold fingers. You enjoyed the warmth her body emanated, closing your eyes slightly, enjoying the company you both gave each other.

For her part, Vi during her stay in Stillwater, always dreamed of a scenario similar to this, without the alcohol and tragedies in between. Just you and her sharing such a sweet moment as you were doing at that moment. Ever since she was little she had always felt a certain attraction to you, you were always so sweet and positive that she felt you two complemented each other perfectly. You could say that her heart melted a little more when, that same night, instead of kicking her out of your tent, you offered her your help and shelter.

“Thank you, for everything” she murmured still leaning against you, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb. You felt, hearing her voice so calm, your heart skip a beat.

“You don't have to give them away. I wasn't going to let you down, you're my Vi” you murmured back. The girl couldn't help but smile. Your Vi. She was yours.

“And you're my cupcake” you rolled your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“That's not so clear to me, cutie” you joked, referencing that it was the same nickname she had used with her ex.

“You’re mine too” Vi sat up on the couch, both of them very close to each other. Her eyes connected with yours and you both became lost in each other's gaze. Placing her hand on your chin, she brought her lips to yours, leaving a small kiss on them. You felt a slight shiver run down your spine. You had just experienced what you always wanted, and in such a sweet way, that you could only think you were dreaming. But when Vi started kissing you one after another, feeling her lips on yours, you knew it was real. You reciprocated each of the kisses Vi gave you sweetly, and as you parted, you both looked at each other and laughed lightly.

“You don't know how long I wanted to do this,” Vi said leaning her head back against the back of the couch, looking directly at you as she kept smiling, her cheeks rosy.

“You don't know how long I've waited for you to do this” you leaned against her, leaving a kiss on her cheek. “I've always liked you, you know? These years have been torture...to think you could have been-” Vi stopped you when you felt her hand on your cheek, caressing it in the sweetest way possible.

“Time has passed, and I'm already here. And I'm not going to move from your side.” you smiled at the girl's words. You took it as a correspondence.

After the storm you were finally starting to see the sun.

405 notes · View notes

capuccinodoll · 3 months ago

Text

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter five ♡

Summary: At the Halloween party, you have fun and finally get Joel out of your head. Sure, at least for a few hours, as the night plays a trick on you. WC: 6.1k A/N: Hi! As the tag list has gotten so big (THANK U OMG!!!) and apparently doesn't work too well, I'm not going to use it anymore. From now on, I'll be posting updates through my updates blog! So make sure to follow and turn on notifications <3 love youuu

Saturday, 7 p.m. The evening air carried a quiet sharpness that pricked at the edges of your skin, cool enough to remind you that autumn was in full swing but not so bitter as to warrant more than your tights and boots. You stepped out, the white dress flowing lightly against your thighs, its flared sleeves brushing your arms as you moved. The dark brown corset at your waist felt like a reassuring hand, grounding you, while its lift brought a confidence that hummed softly under your skin. Your boots, stretched to your knees, a quiet defense against the chill creeping in with the fading sunlight.

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound that was at once final and fleeting. You barely had time to register the weight of the evening when the low rumble of Joel’s truck snuck into the quiet, its approach measured, deliberate. You turned, instinctively, just as he stepped out. His movements were unhurried, his gaze low, as though he hadn’t seen you—or as though he was choosing not to.

The passenger door opened next, and Sarah emerged like a burst of energy, her grin wide and unguarded. She spotted you immediately, her excitement spilling over as she called your name and hurried toward you, her arms flung wide. You caught her easily, her warmth a stark contrast to the crisp air.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice full of a curiosity that felt almost reverent. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled at her, taking in the mismatched charm of her outfit—fluffy bunny slippers peeking out beneath purple pajama pants patterned with white clouds, her coat barely concealing the dark blue long-sleeve shirt underneath.

“Thank you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to a Halloween party.”

Sarah pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But Halloween was last night. It’s November.”

You laughed softly, the sound slipping past your lips like something you hadn’t meant to reveal. “It’s never too late for a party, is it?”

Before Sarah could reply, Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a taut string snapping.

“Sarah. Home.” His tone was firm, unmistakable, though his face only lingered in the doorway for a second before disappearing inside.

Sarah ignored him with the practiced ease of someone who knew how far she could stretch the tether.

“I hope you saved me something good yesterday,” she said, turning back to you, her eyes alight with the thought of treats.

You smiled, brushing a loose strand of her hair aside. “I’m sure Brenda sent some sweets with your dad.”

“Did she make those cara—”

“Sarah.” Joel’s voice rose again, sharper this time, slicing through her sentence. His figure reappeared in the doorway, framed by the warm light spilling out behind him. His gaze landed on her first, then shifted briefly to you, his frown deepening as if your presence was an unwelcome interruption.

“Home,” he said again, the word heavier this time, a command that carried no room for negotiation.

Sarah turned toward him, her annoyance barely concealed.

“In a second!” she called back, her voice tinged with exasperation. Then, with a glance at you, she rolled her eyes dramatically. You couldn’t help but grin, mirroring her expression in a conspiratorial gesture that only seemed to deepen Joel’s scowl.

“NOW,” he barked, his patience finally unraveling. His presence filled the doorway like a storm cloud, and Sarah, sighing, gave in.

“Go,” you told her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. Your voice was quiet, steady, though something in your chest tightened as you spoke. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, the mischief in her smile dimmed slightly by the weight of her father’s insistence. As she retreated, her steps slow and deliberate, you stayed where you were, watching until the door closed behind her. The ache was subtle but sharp.

You shook the thought from your mind, forcing yourself to let go of the tension Joel's mood had wrapped around you. He wasn’t going to ruin this night—not this one. You tightened your grip on your small purse and started walking toward Travis’s house. Your boots clicked against the pavement with a rhythm that felt too steady for the fluttering nerves you carried.

There was a faint nervousness bubbling under your excitement, a ridiculous thing, really, given that you’d seen Travis just that morning. He’d picked you up to go shopping, laughing at your indecision as you flitted from one idea to the next, caught between wanting something outrageous and something simple. You hadn’t known what to wear for tonight. All you knew was that you wanted to feel good. Pretty, yes. Sexy, definitely. Attractive, for sure. Something about the promise of the evening—the energy it held—made you crave a night where you didn’t have to think too hard, didn’t have to manage the weight of anything heavy. Just a night of effortless fun in good company.

Travis was exactly the kind of company you needed. Relaxed, thoughtful in that easy way, funny without trying too hard. He knew how to take care of you without making it feel like a burden. When you’d asked for his opinion on a costume, exasperated after hours of fruitless searching, he’d picked up the white dress with an almost boyish confidence. “Victorian pirate,” he’d said with a grin, as if the idea had struck him in the moment. “Or something like that.”

You’d agreed without much thought. The dress was beautiful, and you already had the perfect corset at home to pair it with. It hugged you in all the right places, cinching your waist while lifting your chest just enough to make you feel like the women in those romantic paintings you loved—the ones with soft, curved bodies draped in gauzy fabrics, their skin glowing and inviting. And tonight, you did. The tights and knee-high boots you’d added were practical for the cool night, but they didn’t detract from the overall effect. If anything, they completed it. On the other hand, the corset hugged you the way you imagined the painter’s brush might.

By the time you reached Travis’s door, you felt confident, maybe even a little giddy. You rang the doorbell, the sound breaking the quiet night, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. Travis stood there, framed by the soft light spilling from his hallway. He looked... well, like something you wouldn’t hesitate to sink your teeth into.

The suit, perfectly tailored, a sharp black with a red tie that caught the light against the pale blue of his shirt. The clear raincoat gave him an edge, its plastic sheen catching and refracting the soft glow from the house behind him. His hair was combed back, deliberate and smooth, and the clench of his jaw softened when he smiled at you.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting a hand to reveal a plastic axe held loosely in his grip. “I’m Patrick Bateman.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere easy and warm.

“Of course you’re Patrick Bateman,” you said, your smile widening as you stepped inside. Your hand brushed his abdomen lightly as you passed, a touch that felt both casual and charged.

The compliment landed, making Travis pause just long enough to tuck the axe into the pocket of his raincoat. He moved toward you, closing the space between you with an ease that always felt natural. His hand settled at your waist, the leather of your corset soft beneath his fingers.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “Telling me that and looking this good? Stop it, or I’ll cancel the party and keep you here all night.”

His breath skimmed the edge of your ear, his lips brushing your jawline just enough to leave your skin prickling with anticipation.

“One compliment and you’re ready to throw the whole night away?” you teased, though the slight rasp in your voice betrayed how his closeness was affecting you. You felt his breath near your ear, the briefest graze of his nose against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw. Your pulse quickened. “You’re an easy target, Dunn.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “Only for you,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unguarded in his eyes, something that made the moment feel fragile in a way that was achingly sweet. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed, leaning into the playful intimacy of it all. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His lips found yours then, the kiss gentle at first, like he was testing the waters. You leaned in instinctively, wanting more, but before you could deepen it, he pulled away. You bit back a groan of frustration as he grinned, oblivious.

“We’d better go, beautiful,” he said, brushing a hand down your arm as if to soothe you. “People are waiting.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. With Travis, things were always easy—except, maybe, when you wanted just a little more.

2 a.m. The cab door slammed shut with more force than you intended, the sound reverberating in the quiet street. The driver turned sharply, scowling.

“I-I’m sorry,” you muttered, your words tumbling over each other.

Travis, a few steps ahead, laughed without looking back, his shoulders shaking slightly. His keys jingled as he fumbled to unlock the door to his townhouse. The sound dragged on endlessly, the alcohol in your veins making the small delay feel monumental. You stood beside him, shifting your weight from one aching foot to the other, the dull throb only partially numbed by the buzz in your head.

“Almost got it,” Travis mumbled, his focus unwavering despite your impatient sighs. Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open with a triumphant grin.

You followed him inside, the warmth of his home enveloping you like a soft blanket. Without ceremony, you dropped onto his couch, sinking into its cushions with a relieved groan. Your head lolled back, your body both exhausted and energized, the kind of tension only a night like this could create.

The evening had been perfect—better than perfect, really. For the first time in months, you’d felt free, truly free, as though the weight of everything that had been haunting you had dissolved into the dark, wine-colored sky.

The party had been at Renzo’s house, one of Travis’s oldest friends. The place was stunning, a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa that practically glowed against the night. Its white stone façade, crowned with red tiles, looked like it had been plucked from a postcard, while spooky Halloween details added just the right touch of whimsy. Lanterns swayed gently on the porch, casting flickering shadows across life-sized skeletons perched on wicker chairs.

Inside, the atmosphere was even more enchanting. The main room featured a long wooden table draped in black lace, adorned with candelabras dripping wax, decorative skulls, and bouquets of dried flowers that looked both macabre and elegant. Ceramic plates with dark patterns and gold accents glinted in the candlelight, completing the eerie tableau. Guests milled about in costumes that ranged from impressive to ridiculous, every outfit telling a story.

You’d met a handful of Travis’s friends, all nice and welcoming. And by the end of the night, Renzo handed out an award for the best costume, which went to his brother Eric for his incredible The Mask ensemble. The details were so perfect, from the prosthetic teeth to the vivid green makeup, that no one could deny it was well-deserved—except Travis, who jokingly accused him of rigging the vote.

The drinks flowed freely, and you’d had more than enough. By past midnight, your feet ached from dancing, but you didn’t care. The music pulsed, and so did you, your body pressed close to Travis’s. His hands rested on your waist, his touch grounding and electric all at once. For the first time in weeks, your thoughts didn’t drift to the things that usually kept you awake at night. Those dark eyes that haunted you in quiet moments, the ache that twisted your chest when you remembered what you’d tried to forget—they were nowhere to be found.

Now, on Travis’s couch, you laughed uncontrollably as he struggled to string together a coherent sentence. His head rested lightly against your shoulder, and the sound of his voice, slurred and boyish, made your stomach ache with affection.

“Whatever, you get what i mean” he said finally, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “God, I shouldn't have had that last drink.”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” you teased, reaching for his tie and pulling him toward you until his eyes met yours. “But I had a beautiful night. Please, let’s make it last.”

Something shifted in his expression—softened, deepened. He straightened, cupping your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was different from anything you’d shared before. It wasn’t cautious or measured, the way Travis usually was. This was eager, unrestrained, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.

His hands found your legs, lifting them over his lap as he leaned into you. You fell back against the cushions, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips left yours to trail along your neck, leaving a path of heat that made your chest rise and fall unevenly.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, undoing the careful style he’d worn all evening. He groaned softly at the contact, his face lifting to meet yours again as he kissed you harder, his desire palpable and infectious.

Your hands moved down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in a blur of anticipation and urgency. The sound of the clasp coming undone was like a victory bell ringing in your ears.

But then, suddenly, he froze.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice strained as he pulled away, turning his face to the side. “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.”

You blinked, startled, as he scrambled off the couch and hurried toward the stairs.

For a moment, you just sat there, propped up on your elbows, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The absurdity of the situation hit you like a wave, and despite yourself, you let out a laugh.

The moment you stood up, your feet wobbled beneath you, betraying the steadiness you were trying to project. The stairs seemed endless, each step doubling before your eyes as if the staircase were playing tricks on you. You gripped the banister tightly, willing yourself not to topple over. The vodka shots coursing through your veins made everything feel both distant and intensely vivid, the sensation disorienting but oddly comforting.

When you finally reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, the light spilling out in soft, pale streaks. Inside, Travis was hunched over the toilet, his body curled into itself, his face ghostly pale.

“Oh,” you said softly, unsure what else to offer in the way of comfort. You moved closer, your hand instinctively finding the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the damp hair sticking to his skin. His vulnerability struck something tender in you.

The sour smell hit you immediately, sharp and invasive, making your stomach churn in protest. But you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Travis, on the fragility of the moment.

He groaned softly as his body shuddered, expelling the last traces of that ill-fated drink—the electric blue cocktail he’d downed with so much confidence earlier. You grimaced at the sight but stayed, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles until the worst had passed.

When he leaned back against the tiled wall, his face glistening with sweat, you reached out to flush the toilet, closing the lid with a gentle finality.

“God,” he croaked, his voice thin and hoarse. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”

You laughed lightly, kneeling in front of him, your head tilting as you studied his expression. There was a defeated sort of charm in the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded, his usual confidence dimmed by the night’s chaos.

“Not at all,” you replied, your words softened by the alcohol still fogging your mind. Your hand came to rest on his knee, a quiet reassurance. “Tonight’s been perfect.”

Travis groaned, letting his head loll back against the wall. “My reputation’s in shambles. Now my pretty neighbor thinks I’m a mess.”

You laughed again, louder this time, your inhibitions dulled enough to find his self-pity endearing. “You think I’m pretty?”

His eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved into a smile, lazy and unguarded. “Are you kidding? No wonder Joel Miller hates me.”

Your laugh faltered, the name cutting through the haze of the night like a blade. You blinked slowly, leaning your head against his knee, letting out a sigh that felt too heavy for the moment.

“Oh, man,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you have to bring him up?”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Travis said quickly, his hand falling clumsily to your back. “Now I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I pre—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice quiet but firm. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, his curious eyes watching you closely now. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” he said, offering a small, sheepish smile.

You pushed yourself to your feet, leaning against the sink for balance. He followed your movements, standing slowly and steadying himself with a hand against the wall. Without a word, you leaned your head against his arm, closing your eyes as you listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, suspended in the quiet warmth of the moment, but eventually, Travis stirred. He touched your shoulder gently, his other hand extended to help you up.

Downstairs, you collapsed onto the couch again, the effort of descending the stairs leaving you slightly breathless. Travis returned with a glass of water, holding it out with a knowing look.

“Drink,” he said simply.

You obeyed reluctantly, grimacing as you took a few sips. “I’m going to have a huge hangover tomorrow,” you muttered, setting the glass on the coffee table.

“Me too,” Travis admitted, lying down beside you with a heavy sigh.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only three in the morning?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “God, I’m old.”

Travis laughed, his grin lopsided and a little drunk. “I swear I thought it was, like, like five in the morning.”

You chuckled, but the weight of the night was catching up with you. Your eyes drifted shut, and the world faded into a soft blur.

When you forced them open again, sometime later, Travis was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even. You sat up, careful not to disturb him, and gently shook his forearm.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m going home.”

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering but refusing to open.

“L-let me walk you home,” he slurred, his head tilting to the side as sleep reclaimed him.

You smiled at the sight of him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See ya,” you whispered, the words hanging in the air as you let yourself out.

The cool night air greeted you with a sharpness that cut through the haze of alcohol still coursing through your system. It startled you, a shiver running up your spine as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. You were still drunk, but the world felt steadier now, your feet moving carefully across the pavement as you crossed the quiet street.

In your mind, you conjured the image of your warm bed waiting for you, the soft embrace of your pajamas, and maybe, if you could muster the energy, the luxury of a hot shower. The thought made your body ache for rest, but then you noticed the soreness in your face—a dull reminder of the unrelenting smile you’d worn since you’d said goodbye to Travis.

You were happy. Light. Effervescent, even. The kind of happiness that made you feel untouchable, like nothing could weigh you down.

That feeling lingered as you approached your house, though it faltered slightly when you passed by the Millers’ place. Your eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to the living room window. A soft, warm light glowed behind the half-transparent curtains, the kind that could only come from a solitary lamp left on too late. You slowed your steps, your gaze lingering as the sharp memory of Joel’s voice from earlier that evening surfaced.

Authoritative. Abrupt. Unbearable.

The way he’d called Sarah home felt unnecessary, almost punitive. Why had he insisted so forcefully? He didn’t usually mind her spending time with you, so why now? And what if things between you and Joel had soured to the point where he forbade Sarah from seeing you altogether? The thought stung, a sharp contrast to the Joel you used to know—the one who would never have done something like that. You hated that you couldn’t anticipate him anymore. And lately, it seemed like everything about him had shifted, like you were seeing a stranger instead of the man you’d once—

“Are you okay?”

The voice, low and steady, cut through your thoughts, making you jump. You looked up sharply, your heart skipping as your eyes adjusted to the dark porch. Joel was sitting there, barely visible except for the faint gleam of the streetlights reflecting in his eyes like stars as he watched you, his expression unreadable, the faintest hint of concern etched into his features.

You didn’t respond right away. Your brain was scrambling, trying to piece together an answer while simultaneously processing the sight of him. He stood then, stepping into the light just enough for you to see him more clearly—the broad set of his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow,

“What... what are you doing here?” you managed finally, your voice wavering slightly.

“Here?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smile. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

“I live next door,” you shot back, your tone almost defensive. You tilted your head, studying him more closely. “I meant out here. What are you doing outside? It’s late.”

Joel hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck in a way that told you he wasn’t going to give you a straight answer. And of course he wouldn't tell you that he'd spent the evening on his couch watching TV, alone, or that he’d been restless all evening.

After having dinner with Sarah, she'd retreated to her room—furious with him for cutting her time with you short—he’d spent the better part of the night sitting on his couch, half-watching some mindless TV show, his attention divided between the screen and the window. Waiting. Then, just as he was beginning to close his eyes, a sharp knock woke him up; the cab door. But of course, he didn't get to see the yellow car because when he got to the window, he only got to make out your body coming through Travis' door, cab long gone.

When you disappeared inside Travis house, something inside him twisted. Restlessness turned into something heavier, something he couldn’t name, and the next thing he knew, he was on the porch with a beer in his hand, staring out into the night like the answer might appear if he stayed long enough.

“It’s Saturday,” he said finally, his voice calm, almost teasing. “Well, Sunday now.”

You nodded absently, but your eyes betrayed you, roaming over him without restraint. It had been a while since you’d let yourself really look at him. Lately, every glance had been fleeting, clouded with irritation or anger. But now, in the quiet glow of the streetlights, there was no denying it.

He was beautiful. Infuriatingly, achingly beautiful.

Your stomach twisted with the realization, the way it always did when you thought about him for too long. You could try to distract yourself with Travis, with his boyish charm and kind eyes, but it wasn't enough.

Travis didn’t have those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to hold every one of your secrets. He didn’t have that nose you loved so much or the lips you’d tasted once and could never forget. His voice wasn’t rough and silken all at once, nor did it carry the weight of every word like Joel’s did.

You hated how much you liked him, how much you wanted him. It was uncomfortable, unbearable, because there was nothing you could do about it. Joel was untouchable now, a door that had been closed and locked a month ago.

“I hate you, Joel,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. They weren’t loud, but they were steady, deliberate.

His smile faded, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression. He nodded slightly, as if weighing your words.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice level, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled faintly, almost amused by the softness in his tone. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you care about it?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice dipping lower with honesty. “But I know it’s not true.”

"Why do you always say that?" you demanded, voice thick with frustration, your arms crossed so tightly against your chest it felt like you might bruise your own ribs. The alcohol in your bloodstream turned every word into a dare, every thought into an accusation. "'I know it's not true. I know you're lying. I know you don't mean it'. What, are you like this omniscient, all-knowing shit—blah, blah, blah?. Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe you don't know anything at all?"

Joel’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable but intent. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, steady while you felt like you were spinning out of control.

"Lately? Yeah," he said finally, his voice low. "I don’t know anything."

The simplicity of his confession, the quiet honesty of it, made you snort in disbelief. You turned your head to the side, looking anywhere but at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your thoughts from spilling out unchecked. When you looked back, his eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They’d dropped lower, lingering somewhere around your waist. Probably on your corset, you realized. Suddenly, the fabric felt suffocating. Not painfully tight, but enough to make you aware of every breath you took.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, tone sharp, defensive. And when he didn’t answer, you pressed harder. “What do you want, Joel?”

“Me?” he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You nodded, daring him to answer.

“I don’t know.” His lips tilted in a faint smirk. “You’re the one standing here in my doorway. Weren’t you just peeking in my window?”

Your mouth fell open. “I wasn’t peeping, dumbass,” you said, fumbling over the words, heat rushing to your face. “I was—”

"Yes, you were," he interrupted smoothly, a trace of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t smug, not really, but it wasn’t innocent either.

God, it was infuriating.

"Ugh," you groaned, the sound dragged out like it could physically push him away. Your arms dropped to your sides, and you turned your face skyward, exasperated. "Were you always this much of an asshole?"

Joel held back a laugh, his head shaking slightly as he raised his eyebrows at you, his silence infuriatingly steady.

"Okay," he said finally. "You’re drunk."

"Yeah, Einstein," you shot back, your voice sharp and your eyes wide as you threw your hands in the air in mock applause. "You’re finally right about something! Everyone, let’s hear it for Joel!"

You clapped for him, slow and exaggerated, addressing an invisible audience. Joel glanced down, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face before he hid it.

That didn’t stop the memory from rising, unbidden: Clara, her hand slipping into his at the barbecue, her laugh bright and flirtatious, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction. It had turned your stomach then, and now the bitterness came rushing back in full force.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading.

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

Joel didn’t resist. He let your fists land where they would, but then his hands rose, gentle and deliberate, catching your wrists mid-punch. The pressure of his fingers around your forearms was firm but not threatening, as if he was trying to guide the violence out of you without a word.

His stillness broke you more than anything could, and the weight of his quiet left you reeling, unsure of what to say next. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he standing there, letting you fall apart?

“Say something!” you cried, your voice cracking, desperate and raw.

But he didn’t. His silence stretched between you, maddening and unbearable.

Your vision blurred as tears spilled over, hot and heavy, the release leaving you shaking. Your sobs filled the room, a sound so guttural it startled even you.

“Why did you have to do this to me?” you demanded, your fists still pressed against his chest, though they no longer moved. Your voice broke entirely now, trembling as you added, “Why do you keep hurting me, Joel, why are you acting like this? What did I do to deserve this from you?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his shoulders sinking as if under the weight of your words. His eyes, glassy and red, shone in the dim light. “I-I’m sorry, I'm sorry” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “I’m so sorry. Please… please forgive me. I love you, baby, I love you, I've al—”

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, your voice trembling as his hands left your wrists and wrapped around you instead, pulling you closer. “You don’t.”

But you didn’t push him away. His arms were warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself fall into them. The pain dulled, just slightly, under his touch. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more for letting it happen.

“Yes, I do,” Joel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You wanted to look up, to see his face, to know if the tears in his voice matched the ones burning in your eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek.

Gently, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed. He set you down softly, his hands brushing against your arms as he pulled away. You sank back into the pillows, your gaze distant, your sobs quieting into sniffles.

Joel knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unlace your boots. He didn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the task, but his face betrayed him. His eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks damp, his expression taut with pain.

Once the boots were gone, you lay back fully, staring blankly at the ceiling as the room swayed gently around you. Your head throbbed, and your chest ached, but the tears had slowed, leaving behind only exhaustion.

The mattress shifted behind you as Joel settled in beside you. He kept his distance, but you could feel the heat of him near you, the tension in the air, a palpable thing you didn’t know how to navigate. You could still hear his breathing, steady but strained.

When his fingers brushed your waist, you stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking softly. “Let me take that off. It can’t be comfortable, right?”

"No," you answered, and as the corset loosened, you felt a wave of relief rush through you, a softness you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Joel moved the corset off your body in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Then, he returned to his position, inches away, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between you again.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the night pressing against you, the exhaustion dragging you into a dreamless sleep. But just before you drifted off, you heard your own voice, quiet and pleading.

“Please go home, Joel,” you whispered. “I want to be alone."

He didn’t argue, although you could hear him doubting. Then, you felt him shift behind you, his hand brushing your arm briefly in a gesture that felt almost like goodbye.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you exhaled deeply, letting the tears come again, though they felt emptier now, less urgent.

Next door, Joel stepped into his house, the quiet suffocating him as he sank into the couch. The air felt too thick, the walls too close. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to keep himself from falling apart, but it was no use. The despair was overwhelming, a mix of regret, shame, and a self-loathing so profound it left him hollow. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe, it was too late after all. No action or word from him could undo the pain he had seen in your eyes that night.

In the quiet of his own mind, he hated himself more than you ever could.

@nobodyssfool @gigistorm @maryfanson @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @powellssaturn @kyloispunk @paleidiot @aceaubrianna @liciafonseca @kaolusha @beeboopski @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame

430 notes · View notes

pretentious-blonde · 5 months ago

Text

after the storm

pairing: remus x reader

summary: the full moon is looming and remus takes it out on the one person he promised not to.

warnings: smoking, arguments

a/n: this is my first fic ever so please be nice!! if people like it, there might be more <3

The moonlight shone through the thin curtains of your shared flat, the beams from the sky cast pale, silver lines across the dark wooden floor of the apartment. It was a modest space the two of you had saved up for, tucked away behind an alley, just off the main road to quiet the bustling sounds of the city outside. The flat, which was on the smaller side, was home to you both. The original ornate fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, the warm orange glow from the flames it emitted danced across the pale walls. Books that the two of you have collected over the years filled not only the bookcase, but a few had migrated to the shared desk in the corner and coffee table. Their spines old from years of use. The familiar scent of parchment and tea permeated the air, and the smell of herbs drying near the windowsill felt comforting. It all reminded you of him.

The evening outside was unusually quiet for a night in the city. Cars and passers-by were not as loud as they normally were, instead, there was a silence that felt almost oppressive. Spreading across the shared space. The full moon was due in just a few short days, the weight of that fact hung in the air you both shared.

Remus sat by the slightly open window, back hunched with a cigarette in hand, staring out at the dark sky above him. The warmth of the fire didn’t quite reach his body, leaving him partially veiled in the shadows surrounding him. His whole posture was tense, his shoulders had turned in on themselves as if he was trying to make himself smaller, as if he could somehow disappear. His brown hair, messy from how many times he had raked his fingers through it, fell into his sunken eyes.

He has always been on the leaner side, however, the days that lead up to the full moon only helped accentuate his lanky figure. His stress usually makes food seem irrelevant around this time. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes, formed from laughing with you or James or Sirius, were more pronounced. His deep amber eyes looked empty and fatigued, lips dragging once more on the cigarette in his hand, jaw clenching as he exhaled. Holding back words he dare not say.

You were snuggled into the couch just across the room, your gaze unable to focus on the book in your lap as concern gnawed away inside of you. You were more than familiar with nights like these. The shift in his mood, shutting you out. He became distant as the moon loomed over him, more irritable than usual. The weight of his condition becoming more burdensome, even with you there. Tonight, however, felt different. He felt darker in the way he held himself. His movements were sharper, tighter, you could feel the tension radiating off him much like the fire that was warming your tired body.

Placing your book down on the coffee table in front of you, standing as you began to approach the boy in the corner, the floor creaked gently as you came closer. He had smoked half a pack just this evening and you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you in his arms.

“Remus?” You used his full name to get his attention, your voice was filled with a soft tenderness that always seemed to calm him. “Are you alright?”

There was a brief pause as he didn’t respond to you. His eyes were glazed over as he continued to focus on the dark sky outside, his long fingers tapping on the windowsill, a small sign of the restless energy that was threatening to burst through him. When he did finally respond, his voice was low—lower than usual.

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, though the words felt hollow. He stubbed out his cigarette and formed a fist with his hand, the knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. “I’m just tired.”

Your eyes softened as you understood, but you knew better than to leave the conversation there. You could see the cloud surrounding him and couldn’t just sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong. Taking a tentative step further, glancing down at your sock-clad feet, feeling the warmth of the fire on your back as you moved closer. “Rem,” you began gently, “I know the full moon is in a few days, do you want to talk?”

Remus’s gaze finally tore away from beyond the window, his dark eyes now locking on yours. You could fully see the damage the stress had done to him. The shadows under his eyes made him look older, more worn than a boy in their twenties should be. His lips parted as if he wanted to respond to you, but they soon shut as he shook his head from frustration.

“No,” he said sharply. His eyes flickered with irritation that you knew he wasn’t trying to direct at you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The silence that followed was more unbearable than the previous one, his sharp words pressed down on the both of you. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you, being ever stubborn, refused to back down when he looked like this. You knew it was not in his nature to be cruel, the sweet boy that captured your heart all those years ago, but his tone hurt all the same. Ever the martyr, he tended to shut people out, even those who cared for him. He had built walls around himself for protection, rightfully so, but the isolation you felt was becoming too much to bear.

Taking a deep breath as you nervously clenched your hands at your sides. “Remus, you can’t keep treating yourself this way,” you tell him, keeping your voice firm but caring, but Remus could hear the tremor of hurt beneath your facade. “I know what you’re going through and that you’re hurting, but I’m trying to help. Please, don’t push me away.”

He scoffed and the sound felt cold and bitter, he finally stood up. He towered over you as he shut the window, his tall frame pulling away from yours as he paced over to the living room, running his hand once again through his hair in frustration. “Push you away?” He repeated your question sarcastically. “I should have done that years ago.”

He spun his body around to fully face you, his eyes blazing with so many emotions it was hard to pin one down. It was frightening. He had never frightened you before, not like this.

“You really don’t get it,” his voice lacking all the usual tenderness it had when talking to you. “Living like this, every month, turning into this—this monster. I can’t—I shouldn’t—have to put you in danger because of me.”

His words stung deep as you try not to flinch backwards. “I’m not scared of you,” you insist, keeping your voice level so as to not match his rising tone. “We have been over this. I know you—the real you—you should know better than anyone that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you ever thought that you should be scared?” He snapped back at you, his voice filled with panic and self-loathing. “You think you know what it’s like, and that’s the problem. You think you do but you don’t. You’ve never seen me—what I become—you haven’t seen what I am capable of.”

Your features softened as your frustration turned into sympathy, but you refused to allow him to shut you out more. “I know you’re not a monster,” you say truthfully, voice firm. “You are kind, kinder than anyone I have met before, strong too. This part of you doesn’t change that.”

He barked out a sharp laugh, one filled with no humour as he shook his head back and forth. “Of course, you say that now,” he muttered under his breath. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what I turn into. One day, I will lose control, and you will despise everything you think you know about me.”

The words hit you like a blow to the stomach, you knew he was spiralling and your demeanour faltered slightly. You could feel the raw pain behind his outburst, the fear that had been eating this boy alive for years at this point. You refused to join him in being afraid, not allowing him to shove you aside.

“Rem,” you said lowly, voice determined. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you are protecting me by lashing out like this, but ultimately, this is my decision. I am here because I love you. Every part of you.”

His expression twisted painfully into one of disbelief. “Love me huh?” He asked. “You don’t even know every part of me. Not really. All you see if the version of me that I let you see. The one who tries to act normal, to convince everyone that everything is fine when really that is the furthest from the truth.

“Do you understand what is it like to live in fear of hurting someone you love? To be terrified of yourself? I know you can just pretend that everything is fine, but—fuck—I can’t” His voice rang out through the room, now still with the implication of his words.

You stood frozen in place, the weight of his confession hitting you with the intensity of a steam train. You both didn’t speak for a while and you felt your throat tighten, your waterline burned with tears that threatened to spill. The warmth from the fire did nothing to alleviate the coldness you felt from him now, the distance between you felt greater than just a few feet.

How many times have you held him whilst he struggled with his condition, picking up the pieces it left when it tore at him from the inside? This uncensored anger, brutal honesty, was new. The more you stared at him, the more you saw the scared boy that you fell for back in school. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I…” you began to say, unwilling to raise your voice above a whisper, in fear you would break down in tears. “I can’t be around you right now.”

Remus’ eyes widened slightly at the words that left your mouth, as if that response was unwarranted after his outburst. He wanted nothing more than to take it all back, but something held him back from speaking anything else.

You shook your head as the ache in your chest continued to grow. You wanted nothing more than to be there for him and expected nothing in return, but the pain of his words was too fresh to do any of that now, too overwhelming. You still loved him, but you couldn’t show it well right now. Not when every fibre of your being was screaming with hurt.

“I just… I need some time alone,” you turn away swiftly, not allowing him to see the tears fall.

You quickly retreated to your shared bedroom and softly shut the door behind you. The click of the handle sounded so much heavier than usual, the catalyst that broke the dam. Silent tears slipped down your face as you leaned on the frame for support, Your hand covered your mouth so as to not allow him to hear the effect his words had on you. Trying to catch your breath and calm down.

In the room just across from you, the soft crackle of the fire was the only sound that remained. Remus stood in the centre of the living room, aching as he looked at the door you had just shut. Locking him out. The realisation began to sink in, slowly, painfully. More painful than any transformation he had felt before. His body was cold, he felt hollow.

His fingers trembled as he combed them through his hair for the hundredth time that evening, guilt shattering through his frame and completely drowning out the last of his anger. He pushed you too far. Way too far. He didn’t mean anything he said, none of it. The one person who had always stood by him though everything was now hiding from him. The thought of it made his stomach churn.

He allowed his eyes to wander to the couch where you once sat, the soft cushions piled up to hold you comfortably, something he should have been doing. He glanced over to the bedroom. There was no way you would want to see him after tonight, let alone share the bed with him.

With a defeated sigh, he sunk down onto the couch, catching his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. The shadows from the fire danced around his vision as he stared at the floor, mocking him as his mind reeled.

•••

The morning light shone through the curtains he forgot to close last night. The sky was dim and muted, stereotypical of the English weather, making the apartment feel even more depressing than he felt. The dying embers of the fire drowned out the sounds of the city waking up outside, he tried to get his mind to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the previous evening.

He groaned as he shifted uncomfortably, his tall frame stiff from the hours of not sleeping on the couch. He welcomed the ache, a self-inflicted punishment of sorts, one he deserved. His mind continued to race, he didn’t need to look at his watch to know that it was early, way too early. But he couldn’t bear to lie there any longer.

Eyes looking over to the bedroom door that was still shut. The urge to simply go over there and open it, to fix things, was overwhelming, but how could he just barge in? Especially after what transpired. The hurt look on your face was burned on the back of his eyelids, something he never wanted to see again. Ever.

He sighed and decided to stand, making his way to the kitchen fully on autopilot. His fingers shook slightly as he picked up the kettle, holding it under the tap to fill it up, the sound of it bubbling to life filling the silence. His mind flicking through everything he could say to you.

He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, like you were a burden to him.

The kettle began to whistle as he opened the cupboard for the tea bags, the familiarity of his actions helped him ground himself as he prepared the tea, just the way you liked it. It was a small gesture, nowhere near as big as it should have been, but it was all he could think to do. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it could be a start. A pathetic attempt at an apology, but hopefully, it would show he wasn’t trying to run away again.

He poured the tea into two cups, he selected your favourite one too. One he picked up for you in one of the old antique shops in Diagon Alley, you refused to drink out of anything else for a week. For a brief moment, he paused, staring down at the steam as it slowly rose from the mugs. The anxiety shot through him and everything inside was telling him to leave the tea on the counter and walk away. But he couldn’t. Not to you. You needed him as much as he needed you and even his fear couldn’t keep him away.

His breath shook as he inhaled, picking up both mugs as he made his way to the shared bedroom. He pushed down on the handle with his elbow and winced at the creak of the door as it opened, stepping inside as quietly as he could manage.

The room was perfectly still, the same soft light from the morning cast gentle shadows across the bed you were huddled up in. His eyes fell to your sleeping figure and his chest clenched. You were fast asleep still, engulfed in the large blanket, but even as you slept, he could see the clear evidence of the night before—the faint tear stains that marked your cheeks, brow still visibly tense.

Remus almost dropped the cups in his hands, breath catching in his throat. He caused this. Made you cry. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating him, it wrapped around his chest as breathing became more strenuous. If he hated himself yesterday, he loathed himself now, forced to face the consequences of his own fear. Drove away the one person, who only ever asked him to love them.

Carefully and quietly, he set the two cups down on the cluttered bedside table, hand trembling slightly as he knelt down next to the bed. His eyes were fixed on your face, the tear tracks were a painful reminder of everything he wished he could take back.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered from beside you, voice barely audible as you slept so close to where he was kneeling. He didn’t know if you could hear him, he didn’t know if it would make a difference, but he needed to say it anyway. Even just for himself.

His eyes began to burn with the tears that didn’t fall last night as he sat back on his heels, staring at the floor as regret washed over him in waves. In truth, he knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted—needed to try. Maybe when you woke up, you could talk. Maybe he could try to explain. Maybe you would yell at him. Anything would do, as long as you didn’t walk out that door.

He remained there, kneeling by your side, watching over you as you slept. Praying for any sign that you might forgive him. He didn’t want to wake you, if you had slept as badly as he did last night, you needed all the rest you could get. He would wait. It was the least he could do.

You felt yourself drift back to consciousness as the light continued to pour into the room. For a brief moment, everything was still, quiet—until the events of last night came rushing back to you. Unease filled your body and the argument flashed through your mind. How he pushed you away. How he looked at you.

You blinked slowly, eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep and last night’s tears. You turn your body slightly, and you are face to face with the sight of your boyfriend kneeling by the side of your bed, eyes wide with worry and regret. He looked even worse than yesterday, like he hadn’t slept at all. His dark circles were more prominent and his posture slumped over, like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up. You felt your throat tighten.

Brown eyes met yours as he shifted uncomfortably on the floor, body thrumming with nervous energy once again.

“Hey,” he said softly, testing the waters with a tentative tone, almost breaking. He attempted to give you a weak smile but it fell before it could reach his eyes. “I—I made you some tea.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and glanced over at the bedside table, the anxiety increasing as you sat up, pulling the blanket closer to you for comfort. You glance between the tea and Remus, not knowing how to start this conversation just yet, scared of what he might say.

He seemed to sense the distance between you both. “I…I’m sorry,” he began, his words rushed, as if he was scared you would leave before he had the chance to fully explain himself. “Last night—I didn’t mean any of it. I was out of line, and I—” He took a breath and fiddled with the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m an idiot.”

As he looked at you, you could see the same raw fear that filled his being. “I was angry at myself, not at you. Never at you, darling.” He spilled out, stumbling over his own words. “I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m so so sorry.”

Your heart softened at the familiar pet name that fell from his lips, the usual warmth of his voice was present as he fought through his panic. You wanted to tell him to stop. To slow down. Tell him you weren’t angry. But the nerves that lingered from that evening held you back. You had seen him unsteady before, but not like this. It was jarring to you, to see someone who was usually so composed, so calm, completely unravelling before you.

Remus reached forward but stopped himself, scared to touch you without permission. His slender hand retreated backwards as your heart broke for him. “Please, dove… don’t—don’t go. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His voice cracked as he finished his sentence, his whole body rigid as if to prepare himself for the final blow. He wasn't just sorry—he was terrified. Terrified that he allowed himself to ruin everything, that you won’t forgive him, maybe he had pushed you too hard this time. Too hard to bring you back.

The tension in your chest eased slightly, the pain from last night was now beginning to soften as you saw your sweet boy crumbling just below where you sat. You had always known he carried so much on his shoulders, so much uncertainty, but seeing it so raw—laid bare in front of you—was a different experience entirely. His words no longer hurt you, what did was knowing how much he hated himself for using them.

“Remus…” you began to speak, voice a little hoarse from the tears last night.

“I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, desperate to let you know. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I was scared—I was so bloody scared of hurting you I couldn’t realise I was doing it myself. I need you to understand I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you but—Merlin—I can’t bear to lose you.”

He leaned forward, his soft eyes searching your own for any sign you still want him. “Please, darling. Forgive me.”

Your heart constricted tightly in your chest at the sight of the broken boy on your floor, his vulnerability broke the last of your resistance. He was horrified by the thought of you leaving, it was clear it was tearing him apart.

You sighed gently and took his unstable hand in your own, heartbreaking as you felt his fingers curl desperately around yours. “I forgive you,” you reassure him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were just scared.”

The relief that washed over Remus’ face was immediate, his body relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. He smiled as he looked over at your two hands intertwined, running his thumb gently over your soft skin. “Thank you,” his voice was still filled with emotion. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He leaned in closer to you, cupping your face with the same tenderness you were so used to. “I love you, dove,” he tells you honestly, his eyes shining with adoration. “More than anything.”

You both stayed like that for a moment as you let all of the negative emotions leave the room, allowing it to be replaced with a now comforting silence. He made mistakes in the past, far too many to count probably, but he owned them. He was willing to make things right, and that was all you could ask for.

You allowed yourself to lean back into the pillows behind you, muscles relaxing for the first time today. You glanced down at Remus, his face still a little bit pale, but the nervous energy had seemingly disappeared, now replaced by relief.

“You know, I expected you to come in here last night, it was terrible. Sulking on the couch might be a new low for you.” You say teasingly, a playful smile now playing on your lips as you test the waters with humour.

He blicked up at you, caught off guard slightly, but allowed a small smile to grace his features. “Oh, is that right?” He asked with a tired but amused expression. “And what else am I so terrible at, darling?”

You pulled your shoulders up and shrugged, pretending to think deeply for a moment. “Let’s see..brooding? You are certainly a natural at that. And it was a relief that you weren’t there to steal the blanket last night too.”

He lets out a small chuckle, tilting his head to admire your happier expression, something he was unaware that he missed so much. “I’ll have to work on that I suppose,” he replied, although his voice was still laced with concern.

“Are you really alright?” You ask once more, still wanting to help like you did last night. “The moon is full in a few days.”

The brunette’s smile faded ever so slightly as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted, now feeling better about having this conversation. “I’ve been worried. More than usual, I think.”

You frowned and squeezed his hands once more, silently communicating that you were there for him. “Why don’t you get in, lie here for a while with me? It might help calm you down a bit.” You ask, hoping beyond anything he would say yes. “And since it’s the weekend, we can do whatever you want. Sleep, read, watch a movie…or just stay here, as long as you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked as he looked at you with a silent gratitude, followed by a light chuckle. “That sounds dangerous.”

He quickly clambered into the bed beside you, pulling you into his aching arms and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, darling,” he hummed with satisfaction as you snuggled deeper into his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pulled you even closer as if you might disappear in a moment. You allowed his body heat to soothe all of the residual emotions you felt last night, melting into his embrace. Leaving only the quiet sounds of your breathing getting heavier as Remus heard you drifting back to sleep, in his arms. Right where you are supposed to be.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #remus x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x you #remus #remus lupin oneshot

689 notes · View notes

etherealyoungk · 8 months ago

Text

charming stranger | jeon wonwoo

SUMMARY: in which you meet a mysterious and charming man while feeding some stray cats and you can't seem to stop thinking about him (and neither can he)

PAIRING: biker!wonwoo x reader

THEMES: biker au, strangers to lovers, fluff, soft love

WARNINGS: biker wonwoo, tattooed wonwoo, just wonu & reader being down bad for each other

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

A/N: this is kind of a prequel based on this fic. but it can be read as a standalone as well! just had to indulge in biker wonwoo again <3

you're sitting down at the convenience store, finishing up the last few bites of your ramen. the night is running late and you look outside at the clouds that threaten to burst with rain any minute now. you get up, discarding the empty packets and bowl in the trash can as you walk outside. you walk up the road to a small quiet alley and you can already hear the meows of the cats as you approach. but then you spot a figure standing around the cats and you furrow your brows in confusion.

you'd heard about someone reportedly poisoning cats in the other neighbourhood and you thought that this was what was happening. you don't know what came over you, but you rush up to the man, causing the cats to scatter. "hey! leave them alone!", you yell as you storm up towards the tall stranger and he turns around, confused at the sudden commotion.

"what are you doing? you leave those cats alone, or i'll call the cops! i know what you're doing", you add, holding out your fist in a weak attempt to appear strong, ready to karate chop this man if needed. you can't catch his face well in the dim light, but he was extremely tall and in hindsight, you'd be no match against him.

the man - wonwoo is utterly confused. he was just trying to feed the cats like he always did, but you've come out of nowhere, yelling at him and scaring away the cats. he steps into the light and you finally catch a glimpse of his face. his hair is long and grown into a short shaggy mullet and falls over his forehead as he looks at you, intrigued.

"i think there's been a misunderstanding, i'm just feeding the cats", he tells, his voice deep, cutting through the silence of the night.

"yeah right mister, you better move on or else i'm really calling the cops", you tell, whipping out your phone and dialling the police number, keeping it ready.

you look around and watch the cats slowly move back in, walking towards the man and meowing. a few of them come towards you too, rubbing against your legs as they meow up at you. wonwoo doesn't know if you're serious or you were joking because he stands there frozen, unmoving as he takes you in; your phone out, standing tall with a scowl adorning your face as you try to look scary, but in reality, you just looked cute to him.

"how can you harm those cats, how do you sleep at night?? now seriously move, shoo", you tell, stepping closer as you attempt to make this man go away. wonwoo steps away, quiet and amused at the situation unfolding in front of him. he walks away quietly, confused and he walks back into the shop, not looking back. you bend down and make sure the cats are okay before you give them some kibble.

it starts to rain after a few minutes, the clouds bursting and the rain pouring down in a steady pace. the cats make a run for it and so do you, heading back to the convenience store. you walk inside in a huff when the cashier sees you. just then the man who was outside comes up to the counter. you're about to open your mouth to speak but the cashier speaks first.

"did the cats eat okay? bummer it had to start raining now", the elderly man says as you walk up front. "he feeds them too, every day. those cats really are lucky, getting their bellies full every day", he adds, his head gesturing to the stranger and you blink at the cashier before glancing at the stranger again.

"oh", is all you can say as you realise that you'd falsely accused the man. he really was just trying to feed the cats. "that's nice", you tell through gritted teeth, trying not to look at the man again because you are beyond embarrassed. you would have very much liked to bury yourself in the ground right now.

the stranger pays for his stuff and goes to the other side near the window, placing his stuff on the table. he pulls out a chair and takes a seat as he looks out the window like he's pondering when the rain might stop. wonwoo only spares you a glance after a few seconds, seeing you stand by the cash counter. he doesn't make much of it and leaves as soon as the rain stops a bit.

after a few days, you find yourself at the convenience store again after a long day at work. it's late and you're too tired to even think of cooking. so you grab your favourite ramen from the shelf, along with other snacks. you make your ramen and sit down to eat. you're in the middle of eating when you hear a pair of heavy boots against the tile floor. after a few seconds, you see a figure next to you in your peripheral vision and it's the stranger. he looks at you as he sits on the chair beside you.

"late night?", he asks and you turn to look at him, realising he was talking to you. you nod your head as you chew. you'd think that after what you did, he'd hold a grudge against you but no, he looked...calm. you wordlessly finish eating your food and the man gets up at the same time you do. he heads out and you rush to discard your trash as you run over to catch up to him.

"hey wait!", you call out as you step out of the store. he turns around as you walk up to him. you stand there in front of him for a few awkward seconds before speaking. "i'm sorry about the other day", you say. "that's alright", he says gently and it catches you off guard. he walks off and you watch as he hops onto his bike and rides off.

over the next few days, you can't seem to stop thinking about the mystery man, the charming stranger. you didn't even get his name, yet he seemed to occupy your mind. you were somehow hoping you'd bump into him again,but you didn't - until today.

it's the weekend and you're grocery shopping when you spot the charming stranger in the fresh produce aisle. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him because holy shit. he's clad in black jeans and a black top that seems to hug his figure a little too well, highlighting his biceps and well-built physique. his short sleeves expose his arms and well-built biceps. your eyes trail down to his arm that's adorned with intricate tattoos, each telling a story, making you gasp softly at the sight. his hair is adorably messy and touseled, falling over his forehead and eyes. the cherry on the top is the thin wired glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose, adding to the unexpected charm, and making him look undeniably hot.

you watch as he casually picks out carrots and fuck, you don't think you've ever seen a finer man in your entire life as you continue to stare at him. finally, you tear your eyes away when you realise you've been staring a little too long. slowly, you feel your cheeks heat up at the sudden realisation and you turn around, telling yourself to snap out of it. there was no way you were crushing on the stranger, right?

you walk away and busy yourself with shopping your grocery list. you're trying to reach up to get the big box of cereal but it's too high up on the shelf. with your arm stretched out, you jump a bit and try to reach out for it but you can't. just then a figure comes up behind you, a hand reaching out for the cereal box with ease and you turn around to see the charming stranger in front of you.

"here", he says as he hands you the box of cereal and you take it without a word. up close, he looks even more attractive. your eyes sneak a glance to his tattoos again and you look back up at him, perhaps a little too stunned at the sight of this hot man in front of you. "t-thank you", you stumble out, mentally cringing at how you sounded just now.

"i like that cereal too", he fills in and you can only nod in agreement because he looks so fine, you're actually rendered speechless. wonwoo watches the way your eyes look him up and down, lingering at his tattoos. he was just thinking about you the other day and here you are in front of him, looking nervous.

you both part ways again and you finish billing up your items, carrying your bag and struggling a little because of how heavy the bag is. you walk ahead, hauling up the bag and holding it with both hands as you walk. you turn around the corner but you stop and take a step back, almost losing your balance as you bump into someone. "woah there", a voice says, causing you to turn around as you regain your balance. it was the charming stranger again.

"oh um hi...again", you fumble out, finding yourself nervous all over again. "do you need help, it looks like you're struggling", he says, his hand already reaching out to take the bag from your hands before you could even protest.

"oh, i can manage", you tell, your hands awkwardly folded as you don't know what to do with them now. "you live nearby right?", he prompts and you nod. "great, then i'll walk you home", he fills in and you stand there awestruck for a few seconds before you snap out of it and nod again.

wonwoo really thinks you're scared of him because all you do is nod your head to whatever he says. he was used to getting some weird looks from people, but really, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

you stand there for a few seconds in silence as wonwoo looks at you with a small tilt to his head, waiting for you to lead the way. "oh, right, um...", you stutter out and walk ahead, wonwoo follows beside you.

"no bike today?", you finally speak and wonwoo swears his breath catches in his throat when he hears you speak. "no, i decided to give her a break, so i walked here", he replies and you nod. when you turn around by the convenience store, you tell wonwoo that you can walk home from here. you take the bag from his hand, telling him thank you and head your way home. wonwoo really starts to think that you don't like him and it disappoints him a little, because in reality, he's really intrigued by you.

later that week you buy some extra cat food, some for the regular stray cats and you take some home for the pregnant cat you'd rescued a few days back. she's just wandered into your house and was meowing so you took her in. you're sitting on the floor as you watch her eat, and judging from how pregnant she looked, you could tell she was due any day now.

wonwoo hopes to see you again. so, he heads out more in an attempt to bump into you more, either at the grocery store or convenience store. he takes out his bike and waits outside the convenience store that evening, hoping you'd drop by - and you do. you're walking by, completely oblivious to wonwoo as you walk into the store, humming to yourself as you grab some snacks from the shelf. wonwoo gets off his bike and heads inside, making his way towards you.

"hi", he says, his voice deep and you turn around, surprised. "oh, hello", you respond softly at the sight of the charming stranger - yet you still don't know his name. he looks at you with a softened gaze, his hair a cute mess as always (or because he kept running a nervous hand through it).

"i was going to feed the cats today", he adds, trying to make conversation and he sees the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. "that's good", you reply as you walk up to the cashier and pay for your stuff. you end up fumbling with your wallet as wonwoo stands behind you and you swear you can hear your heart thumping in your chest. your turn around and walk outside, wonwoo following behind, in hopes he hasn't scared you off again.

"i never got your name", you hear wonwoo speak and you turn around. "i'm yn", you tell and he smiles. "i'm wonwoo", he responds and you nod your head at the information.

"i'll see you around i guess", you tell before giving him a small wave and walking in the direction home.

wonwoo, you repeat the name softly and smile to yourself. you finally had a name for the charming stranger.

that week you end up seeing wonwoo more. you find him at the store, feeding the cats or just in the neighbourhood more often. you'd come to recognise his bike and you'd spot it parked around more often than before. but little did you know wonwoo was only coming out more often to see you. you slowly talk to him more that week and wonwoo is glad that you don't run away from him again. he really wanted to get to know you more. that night as you're picking up some ramen for dinner when you spot wonwoo again.

"another late night?", he asks and you nod. "yeah gosh, i need a break", you mutter out as you contemplate between the two flavours of ramen in your hands.

"which one?", you ask, holding out both options for wonwoo to choose from. he looks between them both before deciding on the spicy cheese one. you pay for the stuff and step out, spotting wonwoo's bike parked outside.

"your bike is cool", you offer as you slow down, turning around, a little shy and nervous. somehow being around wonwoo always made you so nervous. maybe because it was because he was so good-looking, and maybe also because he looked a little intimidating. but you'd come to realise that he was actually the complete opposite. he was so soft, sweet and gentle - and that contrast drew you more into him.

"i can give you a ride on it if you want? drop you home", he asks gently, a little uncertainty laced in his voice. "oh, not that's fine", you tell, shaking your head. to be honest, the thought of riding on his bike scared you a bit. but then you look up at him and his words register in your mind again.

"wait, are you flirting with me?", you ask as you glance up at him, a little confused. he only blinks before a sheepish grin forms. "i've been flirting with you for a week now, thanks for finally noticing", he tells, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets out a nervous chuckle.

"oh", is all you say as you suddenly feel very stupid. this is the reason you were and would remain single you thought. "i should go, it's getting late", you finally speak, bidding wonwoo goodbye as you leave. wonwoo thinks he's messed up and he sighs to himself as he watches you walk away.

two weeks later the cat you've rescued had littered and the kittens were just starting to open their eyes and move around. you'd not seen wonwoo around that much lately and you thought maybe something happened. you'd even asked the cashier at the store but he said he didn't know. you walk out and are about to walk home when you see wonwoo's familiar bike turn around the corner as he zips past you. you watch as he goes and you decide to wait a bit, in the hopes that he'd come back. you really wanted to see him tonight and tell him about the kittens. you had started to grow fond of him. but you wait and wait and he doesn't come back, so you sigh in defeat and leave, walking back home.

wonwoo thinks you've rejected him and he doesn't know what to do. he starts to go out less and not show up anymore. but little did he know that you were the one who was waiting for him now, hoping you'd get the chance to see him again.

in the quiet hum of the convenience store, wonwoo hesitates near the entrance, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. as wonwoo contemplates something, a familiar face catches his eye - you. a rush of warmth floods his chest as he watches you. he sees the way your head lifts up, your eyes spotting him. a smile immediatly blooms on your face at the sight of wonwoo. he freezes, breath catching in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from you. you stand up in a rush and run outside, towards wonwoo.

"wonwoo! there you are! i've been waiting for you", you tell when you're close enough and his heart jumps at your words. you were waiting for him?

"i thought i wouldn't see you again, guess you've gotten busy huh", you add and wonwoo can only blink down at you as you smile at him as you speak. his heart almost melts when you look at him like that, with that pretty smile adorning your face as you talk to him.

"i rescued this pregnant cat and she littered a few weeks back. the kittens are adorable and i wanted to tell you", you say excitedly as you look up at wonwoo. you wanted to tell him?

"that's sweet", wonwoo finally says, his voice sweet and deep, accompanied by a gentle smile. his hair is still damp from taking a shower earlier as it falls over his eyes and he's wearing that black shirt again that makes him look effortlessly good. paired with those glasses perched on his nose, enhancing his already captivating presence, you swear you're about to go feral at the sight of wonwoo again as you take in his appearance.

"do you want to see them?", you blurt out, the words out of your mouth before you can think. wonwoo looks at you for a second before he responds, his heart racing. "sure".

and that's how you're walking to your place. wonwoo offered you a ride on his bike again but you declined, preferring to walk instead. he doesn't press on the matter and walks with you. "are you okay? i didn't see you around, i thought something happened", you tell as you walk.

"yeah, just a little busy", he says instead, his voice tinged with relief that you wanted to see him again.

you turn around the corner and reach your house. you open the door and wonwoo walks in, following you inside. you can already hear the kittens meows in the room and you chuckle as you walk over to the box, pulling it out slowly to unveil the kittens to wonwoo. the kittens spot you and start to scramble out, climbing up and out of the box with determined feet. wonwoo bends down and offers his hand to one of the kittens, who walks into his palm.

wonwoo settles down on the floor and so you do. you watch as all the kittens storm over to him and climb all over him. you laugh again at the sight of him being ambushed by the army of kittens. "you're so cute", you tell and wonwoo feels his cheeks heat up when you call him that. he lets out a laugh, the sound of his sweet chuckle filling the air between you both.

after you'd played enough and the kittens seemed to have exhausted themselves quickly, you put them back in the box and get up, offering to make wonwoo some tea.

you place the mug of hot tea in front of wonwoo and sit next to him instead. he glances up as you settle beside him, a soft smile gracing your lips. wonwoo watches as your gaze drifts down to his arm, to the tattoos that adorn it. he can feel your curious gaze lingering on the inked patterns, your eyes tracing the lines with unspoken curiosity.

"do you have a favourite?", you ask, breaking the silence as you look up to meet wonwoo's eyes. "i guess i like them all, there's a story behind each of them", he responds and watches the curiosity in your eyes grow. wonwoo offers you the story behind one of the tattoos and watches as you eagerly listen, leaning in closer and he just hopes you can't hear how loud his heart is beating because of you.

you both end up spending more time together than intended but none of you make a move to leave. it's only when wonwoo glances at the time, seeing that it is late that he decides to excuse himself.

"i should probably get going", he says as he glances at the time. "oh-right", you tell quickly, a little defeated. you get up and wonwoo does too. you walk with him towards the door and he lingers at outside your door, like he wanted to tell you something.

"i'll see you around?", you ask, hopeful. "yeah", wonwoo replies softly, a smile gracing his lips as he meets your gaze. it's a fleeting moment, but in that exchange, he feels a connection, a spark of something more.

you watch as he leaves and you close your door, leaning back against it and closing your eyes. the realisation that you were crushing on him hard hits you like a wave. wonwoo realises that too as he walks but he stops. in that moment, determination seems to take hold of wonwoo because if he doesn't ask you now, he may never have the courage to do so again.

turning around, wonwoo retraces his steps, his heart pounding in his chest as he approaches your door once more. with a hesitant hand, he knocks on your door, startling you. you're surprised when you open the door and see wonwoo again, meeting his gaze.

wonwoo stands before you, uncertainty written across his features, but there's a determination shining in his eyes. in that moment, as you stand face to face, the air tinged with anticipation, wonwoo knows that he has to seize this chance.

"can i... can i ask you something?" he begins, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.

with a reassuring smile, you nod, silently urging him to continue. "sure, what's up?", you ask.

"i was wondering... if you'd like to go out with me sometime? for lunch maybe? or dinner" wonwoo asks, the words spill forth in a rush, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he lays bare his feelings before you.

for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, the tension thickening in the air as you contemplate his question.

"like a date?", you ask softly as you peer up at wonwoo's hopeful and nervous gaze.

"yeah...i mean only if you want to", he adds quickly as he adjusts his glasses and runs a nervous hand through his hair. but then, a smile spreads across your face, genuine and bright, and the weight of uncertainty lifts from wonwoo's shoulders.

"i'd love to," you reply, your voice soft with sincerity. "i thought you'd never ask", you mumble softly. relief floods through wonwoo, washing away the last remnants of doubt as he meets your gaze with a gentle smile.

you're walking back home with wonwoo, his jacket draped over your shoulders as he drops you back home after yet another date. your hand is intertwined in wonwoo's. you reach home soon and wonwoo walks you up to your doorstep.

"i had a great time", you tell, peering up at him and a soft smile blooms on his lips. "me too", he replies.

"goodnight", he adds after a few seconds as he looks at you. he lingers in front of you, and so you do, not wanting the night to end. but there's something else on wonwoo's mind. his eyes flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes, as he tries to build up the courage to kiss you goodnight.

"see you tomorrow?", you ask, since none of you seem to want to leave, wanting to stay in this moment. "yeah", he says, gulping nervously. his hand finds yours and you look up at him. his gaze flickered to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty.

"can i kiss you?", he asks, his words were barely a whisper, tinged with a husky intensity as he leans in ever so slightly, closing the gap between you both by a fraction. you nervously blink up at him as you meet his intense gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

"yes", you say softly as you stand there.

wonwoo leans in a bit, his nose brushing against your cheek and he gently presses his lips to yours for a fleeting moment before pulling away. he's still close enough and he searches your eyes, your heart racing and all you know is you want more.

you reach your hand forward, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt as you lean in to kiss him again, your lips meeting his again. he slowly moves his lips against yours this time. the kiss is slow and deliberate, the warmth of wonwoo's lips against yours sending a rush of heat through your body. his hand cups your cheek tenderly, while his other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. your hands rest on his shoulders as you kiss him back. his touch gentle as you melt into the embrace, the world falling away around you as you lose yourself in the sweetness of the kiss.

wonwoo pulls away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush, mirroring your own as he looks at you. for a moment, neither of you dares to speak, the air heavy with the nervous energy between the both of you. the silence stretches on, punctuated only by the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet space.

"i, um... that was..." wonwoo's voice trails off into a nervous murmur, his words getting lost in the trail of his thoughts.

you can't help but smile at his shyness, feeling a surge of affection for the man standing before you. "yeah, it was..." you murmur softly, your own voice tinged with a bashful warmth.

the tension between you both eases slightly. with a shy smile, you reach out to adjust wonwoo's glasses, pushing them back up on his nose.

"you're cute when you're nervous," you tease gently, the words laced with affection as you meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. wonwoo's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "so are you," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in to brush a gentle kiss against your forehead.

taglist: @joshuaahong @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @mirxzii @wheeboo @writingmeraki @wqnwoos @idubiluv

@paindivinemp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @kyeomyun @lvlystars @blue-jisungs @wootify @ihrtboo

@n4mj00nvq @yoozuku @manipulatedstars @lavenderwonu @leeknowloves

783 notes · View notes

madarashipslicerromancedicer · 2 years ago

Text

@madaraservingcunt

#Madara #Madara Uchiha #NSUNS3 #NS3FB #Ultimate Ninja Storm 3 Full Burst

105 notes · View notes

plumsaffron · 2 years ago

Text

I'll show you true terror (I think that's what he says when after awakening).

#Madara #Madara Uchiha #Ultimate Ninja Storm 3 Full Burst #Sharingan #Rinnegan #plumsaffron #NS3FB

15 notes · View notes

arjwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!”

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down.

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt.

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up.

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself.

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down.

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.”

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.”

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it.

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.”

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?”

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest.

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake.

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house.

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer.

“A year.”

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.”

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.”

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark.

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed.

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here.

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor.

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn.

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-”

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny.

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other.

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement.

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?”

#dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester reader insert #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #supernatural one shot

591 notes · View notes

amourane · 9 months ago

Note

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second.

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead.

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine.

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him.

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened.

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze.

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything.

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagine #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott angst #theodore x reader #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott x y/n #fluff #angst #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott

704 notes · View notes

moonselune · 1 month ago

Note

okay this is very silly but how would the ladies react to tav biting their ears. they all have very cute, biteable ears. i love your writing by the way<3

yes yes yes yes i love this so much the silly ones are the best ones

Karlach:

The warmth of the late evening filled your shared space, a glow from the hearth casting dancing shadows on the walls. The remnants of a delicious dinner sat on the table, but your eyes were locked on the last dessert: a perfectly golden tart that had somehow survived the meal. It rested between you and Karlach like a prize in a game of wills.

Karlach, her fiery hair catching the flickering light, leaned back in her chair, grinning like a cat with a canary. “Come on now, sweetness. You’ve had your share of dessert. I think this one belongs to me.”

“You think?” you countered, arching a brow as you leaned forward. “I carried this tart all the way from the bakery because someone said she didn’t have room for it earlier.”

Karlach shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her grin betrayed her amusement. “Well, you’ve convinced me. I do have room now.”

“Oh, you are impossible,” you laughed, reaching for the plate.

Her hand darted out with lightning speed, snatching the tart and holding it aloft. “Too slow, babe.”

The playfight was on. You lunged at her, and she spun in her chair, keeping the tart just out of reach. Her laugh was boisterous and full of life, echoing through the room as you scrambled to grab the dessert. You managed to climb onto her lap, pinning her arms down momentarily, but Karlach wasn’t one to be subdued so easily. With a quick shift of her weight, she flipped the two of you, her warm, muscular frame pinning you against the chair.

“Yield!” she declared dramatically, the tart triumphantly held in one hand.

“Never!” you shot back, grinning as you wriggled beneath her.

In a last-ditch effort, you leaned up and playfully nipped at her ear. The reaction was immediate: a sudden, intense surge of heat radiated from her chest, the familiar hum of her infernal engine growing louder. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her body tensed as the heat rushed through her like a wave. She froze for a moment, blinking in surprise.

You burst into laughter, your head falling back against the chair. “Oh my gods, what was that?”

Karlach looked at you, wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what had just happened.

“What did you do?” she finally managed, her voice filled with astonishment.

Still laughing, you leaned in again, your lips brushing her ear as you whispered, “This.” You nipped at her ear a second time.

The reaction was the same—another rush of heat, her engine sputtering slightly as if it couldn’t decide whether to handle the surge or shut down entirely. Her body quaked with barely contained laughter, her warmth flooding the room like a radiant sun.

“Stop, stop!” Karlach wheezed, though she was laughing so hard she could barely form the words. “You’re gonna break me!”

“I can’t help it!” you gasped, doubling over as tears of laughter rolled down your cheeks. “This is amazing.”

“Wait...wait......Do it again,” she said through her laughter, her voice daring and full of mirth. “Go on. I can take it.”

You grinned, leaning in to nip her ear once more, and the result was even more spectacular. This time, the heat shot up her neck and flushed her entire face, her engine emitting a faint whirring noise like it was gearing up for something monumental.

Karlach collapsed into a fit of laughter, sliding off the chair and pulling you down with her. The tart, long forgotten, rolled harmlessly onto the table as the two of you tangled together on the floor, laughing so hard your sides ached.

Minthara:

The air in your shared quarters was thick with tension, but not the kind that came from anger or true discord. No, this was a storm of Minthara’s making—a tempest of jealousy that she was determined to quell in her own commanding way. She loomed over you, her white hair cascading like a silken curtain, and her crimson eyes were sharp, though not entirely unkind.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her voice a low and dangerous purr, as her fingers traced possessively along your jawline. “I don’t share, and I don’t tolerate… competition.”

You hadn’t meant to make her jealous. Truly, it had been an accident—a casual laugh with a stranger, a hand that lingered a moment too long on your arm. But Minthara wasn’t one to see it as harmless. Her gaze bore into you now, the weight of her Drow pride and passion pressing against you like a tangible force.

“Minthara, you’re overreacting,” you tried, your voice light and teasing. “It was nothing.”

Her lips quirked into a dangerous smirk as she leaned in, her face mere inches from yours. “Then I’ll make sure you remember who you belong to.”

Before you could protest further, her lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding. Minthara kissed with a kind of intensity that left no room for argument, her hands slipping to your waist to hold you firmly in place. You squirmed in her grip—not entirely to escape but more to provoke her, your playful resistance only spurring her on. She chuckled darkly against your lips, her teeth grazing your lower lip as she pressed closer.

“You think to fight me, my heart?” she murmured between kisses, her voice dripping with challenge. “You’ll find it a futile effort.”

“Futile?” you echoed breathlessly, a mischievous grin forming despite her dominance. “We’ll see about that.”

Her eyebrow twitched, a clear warning not to test her further, but you had never been one to heed warnings. You leaned in close, your lips brushing her pointed ear as if to whisper a surrender. Instead, you nipped lightly at the sensitive tip.

The reaction was immediate—and shocking. Minthara’s breath hitched audibly, and then, to your utter astonishment, she let out a soft, unbidden whimper. It wasn’t a sound of pain or anger, but one of vulnerability, one you had never imagined coming from her. You pulled back, wide-eyed, staring at her flushed expression.

“Did you… whimper?” you asked, your voice tinged with incredulous delight.

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, though her cheeks betrayed the faintest hint of color.

“Never do that again,” she hissed, her tone sharp but lacking the edge of her usual authority.

“Oh, but why not?” you teased, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

Her glare intensified, but you were already leaning in for another playful nip. “Don’t you dare—”

This time, Minthara acted faster. With a growl of frustration—and something else she didn’t dare name—she tackled you to the ground, pinning you beneath her with ease. Her strength was as formidable as ever, her hands gripping your wrists and holding them above your head. Her weight pressed you into the floor, and her hair framed her face like a wild halo.

“You’re insufferable,” she growled, though there was a glimmer of something in her eyes—amusement, perhaps, or begrudging admiration for your audacity.

“You’re sensitive,” you countered, your voice light and teasing, even as you were thoroughly immobilized. “I never knew you had such a weakness.”

Minthara’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk betraying her composure. “Weakness? You think yourself clever for exploiting it, but I assure you, it will not save you.”

Your laughter bubbled up, unrestrained and joyous, as she tightened her hold. Her mock outrage only fueled your mirth, and soon, even she couldn’t maintain her serious demeanor. A low chuckle escaped her, though she quickly tried to mask it.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, her voice tinged with reluctant affection.

“And you’re hot when you’re flustered,” you shot back, earning a warning growl as she leaned in closer, her face hovering just above yours.

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another, the heat of your playfulness giving way to something softer. Her lips twitched again, and this time she didn’t fight the smile that broke through.

“You’ll pay for that,” she promised, her tone somewhere between a threat and a vow.

“Worth it,” you replied, grinning up at her.

Minthara shook her head, muttering something in Drow that you suspected wasn’t entirely complimentary, before leaning down to claim your lips once more. This time, the kiss was less about dominance and more about love—a reminder of the bond that held you together, stronger than jealousy or teasing could ever break.

Lae'zel:

The training ground was alive with the clang of steel and the occasional grunt of exertion, but your focus was singular: Lae’zel. She was relentless, her Githyanki form fluid and powerful as she moved with precision honed by years of discipline. You, on the other hand, were fighting tooth and nail to keep up, sweat dripping down your brow as you struggled to counter her attacks.

She had already disarmed you twice and was now determined to prove her superiority once more. You sidestepped a feint and lunged forward, hoping to use her momentum against her, but Lae’zel was two steps ahead. With a quick twist and a sweep of her leg, you were on the ground, her weight pressing down as she pinned you in an utterly humiliating hold.

Your arms were twisted awkwardly beneath her, one of your legs bent at an impossible angle, and her face was infuriatingly close to yours, smugness radiating off her like heat from the sun.

"Yield," she commanded, her voice firm and expectant, her breath brushing your cheek.

“Never,” you managed to grit out, wriggling uselessly beneath her.

Her laugh was sharp and almost cruel, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You have no choice, heart of mine. You are defeated. Admit it.”

But admitting defeat wasn’t in your nature—not yet, anyway. With your options limited and your pride on the line, a ridiculous idea popped into your head. If brute strength and strategy had failed, perhaps mischief would be your salvation.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you tilted your head, your lips brushing her ear as if you were about to whisper a clever retort. Instead, you bit the pointed tip of her ear—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to surprise her.

Lae’zel froze, her entire body going rigid as if struck by lightning. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your breathing. Her golden eyes were wide with bewilderment as she turned her head slightly to look at you, her expression a mix of shock and irritation.

"Did you just—bite me?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

You grinned up at her, utterly unrepentant. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, you thought she might actually be angry. But then, to your relief—and slight embarrassment—her expression softened, and a low chuckle rumbled in her throat.

“That was your grand strategy?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “When all else fails, resort to teeth like some rabid beast?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” you shot back, though your current predicament made the claim less convincing.

Lae’zel shook her head, her laughter growing louder as she shifted her weight slightly, ensuring you were still firmly trapped. “Pathetic. A warrior biting in desperation like a whelp fighting over scraps.”

“Call it creative problem-solving,” you countered, grinning despite your precarious position.

Her amusement was evident now, her earlier irritation forgotten. “Creative? If that’s what you call it, then perhaps you should stick to… whatever it is you’re good at. Fighting clearly isn’t it.”

You groaned, your pride taking another blow, though you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “Fine, you win. Now let me go before I try something even worse.”

“Worse?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I shudder to think what that might entail.”

Still, she relented, releasing you from her hold and standing with that graceful ease that always made you a little envious. She extended a hand to help you up, and when you took it, she pulled you to your feet with more force than necessary, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Next time,” she said, brushing nonexistent dust from her armor, “perhaps try training harder instead of relying on such… undignified tactics.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Next time, don’t underestimate me. I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve.”

Lae’zel snorted, crossing her arms as she regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “If biting is the best you can do, I am not worried. Come, vaar kaathar. Let us see if you have anything else worth showing me.”

And despite the humiliation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that you’d managed to make the unflappable Lae’zel laugh—even if it had cost you your dignity.

Shadowheart:

The room was quiet, the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound to break the stillness. The two of you were nestled together on the large bed, tangled beneath a soft blanket. Shadowheart lay on her side, her back pressed against your chest, her breathing slow and even. You had one arm draped around her waist, holding her close, while the other was free to roam, your fingers trailing idly through her silky, raven-black hair.

Her half-elf ears peeked out from beneath the dark waves, their delicate points catching the dim firelight. You couldn’t help but admire her, your half-lidded gaze soft as it lingered on the gentle curve of her cheek, the slight upward tilt of her lips, and the peaceful expression she wore in these rare, unguarded moments.

She looked so serene, so utterly content, and it filled your heart with a warm, aching love.

Your fingers brushed lightly against the shell of her ear as you stroked her hair, and something mischievous sparked in the back of your mind. An idea, an intrusive thought that made the corners of your lips twitch upward. It was ridiculous, and yet the longer it lingered, the more it begged to be acted upon.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and gently nipped the very tip of her ear, careful not to actually hurt her.

Shadowheart hummed softly at first, her body relaxing further into yours as if she thought it was just another tender gesture. But then her breathing hitched, and she went very, very still.

For a moment, she said nothing, as if processing what had just happened. Then, in a low, slightly incredulous voice, she asked, “Did you just… bite my ear?”

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped you. You buried your face into the back of her shoulder, trying to stifle the sound, but it was too late.

She turned her head slightly, though she didn’t pull away from your embrace, her voice both amused and exasperated. “Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.”

“What if I did?” you teased, your tone playful as you shifted slightly, your hand moving to gently trace the curve of her ear.

Shadowheart sighed, though the corners of her lips quirked upward.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice laced with fondness. “What possessed you to do that?”

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. “I couldn’t help it. They were just… there. And you looked so peaceful.”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “So your solution was to bite me? I should have known.”

“Well, you didn’t stop me,” you pointed out, your grin widening.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, though you could feel the warmth of her smile even without seeing it. “Next time, try to resist the urge. Or at least warn me first.”

“No promises,” you replied, nuzzling closer to her.

Despite her playful protests, she melted back into your arms, her body relaxing against yours once more. You could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm, and it filled you with a sense of quiet joy.

Jaheira:

Jaheira sat cross-legged in the middle of the study, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she traced glowing glyphs in the air. Her lips moved softly, uttering incantations under her breath as strands of magical energy wove themselves into an intricate pattern. The sunlight streaming through the window painted her in hues of gold and green, highlighting the graceful curves of her face and the subtle pointed tips of her ears.

It was a sight that would normally inspire awe, but today, it inspired mischief.

You stood at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching her. Jaheira was focused, so thoroughly absorbed in her work that she barely seemed to notice your presence. That simply wouldn’t do. A slow grin spread across your face as an idea took root.

You padded silently across the room, your steps deliberately light. Jaheira didn’t even glance your way, her hands continuing their elegant movements. Once you were close enough, you knelt beside her and rested your chin on her shoulder.

“Busy, are we?” you murmured, your tone dripping with playful intent.

“Very,” she replied without missing a beat, her voice steady and calm despite your proximity.

Undeterred, you brushed a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, exposing the delicate point. She flicked her eyes toward you, a warning glint in their depths, but she quickly returned her attention to the spell.

“Careful,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “This requires precision.”

“Does it?” you asked, feigning innocence. Your fingers trailed lightly along the edge of her ear, and when she didn’t immediately reprimand you, you leaned in and pressed a quick, mischievous bite to the very tip.

The reaction was immediate.

Jaheira gasped, her focus breaking as the glowing glyphs flickered and disappeared. She turned her head sharply to look at you, her lips parted in a mix of surprise and indignation.

“You—!” she started, but whatever reprimand she was about to deliver faltered as you caught the faintest hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Before you could tease her about it, Jaheira raised a hand, muttering something under her breath. Thick, smooth vines shot up from the ground, wrapping themselves around you with surprising speed. They pinned your arms to your sides and anchored you in place, their prickly touch firm but not painful.

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as the vines tightened slightly. “Oh, come on, Jaheira. It was just a little nibble!”

She arched an elegant brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded you with a mockingly stern expression. “A little nibble? You disrupted my spellwork!”

“And yet,” you countered, tilting your head, “you didn’t seem to mind.”

Her blush deepened, and for a moment, her composure wavered. She looked away, trying to hide the soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“And you’re adorable when you blush,” you shot back, grinning.

She let out an exasperated sigh but couldn’t quite suppress the chuckle that followed. With a flick of her wrist, the vines released you, retreating back into the earth. You rubbed your arms theatrically, though you weren’t actually hurt.

Jaheira rolled her eyes and turned away, resuming her position to try the spell again. But as she began to weave the glyphs once more, you noticed the lingering flush on her cheeks, the way her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile.

You leaned back on your hands, content to simply watch her for now.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you didn’t say you didn't like it.”

Her fingers faltered for just a fraction of a second, and you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she glanced your way.

“Do it again,” she said dryly, “and I’ll wrap you so tightly in vines, you won’t see daylight for a week.”

You smirked, leaning back against the floor. “Sounds like a good time to me, my love.”

Jaheira said nothing, returning her attention to her spell, but the blush that lingered on her cheeks spoke volumes.

This was so fun to write and i really hope you guys enjoyed it! -Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

161 notes · View notes