#a morning with a messy minded muse

[pitoftheplum]

[Writing Prompt: Sunday Service]

I wake to birdsong and the neighbor's barking dog like I do every morning. Downtown, there's about 10 feet from wall to wall, strangers sardined. I look out my window and see the squirrels bouncing the branches of a neglected orange tree. Half eaten globes hang, shown no mercy, set to start falling once the Santa Anas come knocking. I slept for 10 hours, roughly. No dreams I recall, thankfully. I can't tell what they even mean lately. Roll out of bed to a kink in my neck. Vertebrae in my lower back thunk into place, dramatically shifting. Mattress is too soft, but I needed something quick and cheap. Saying "my room" still makes me a little giddy. Missed having my own space to shut myself in silence and daydream at my ceiling. My son is on the other side of the door, tiny paw shoved under, claws curling. Time for the Feeding. I shuffle to the kitchen. Dump kibble, vyvanse in one hand, water from an old peanut butter jar in the other, and criss cross applesauce on the wood grain laminate flooring. My child looks back to make sure I'm watching, swoops his spine for a mother's hand to smooth, and starts munching and crunching. He doesn't like to eat alone. Even when he had his striped sister to bully around the big enough for both food bowl. Needs mom or dad to tell him "good job" and pat his butt a little. It's sweet in my opinion. I medicate myself for a day of prospective productivity. Stand, stretch, and get moving.

I make a coffee run across the street despite having an espresso machine. Honestly? It's just old and annoying to clean. I'll be the first to admit I prefer my life as much as possible to simply be easy peasy. I stand in a spray of water set to scalding and pee. If you claim you don't ever pee in the shower, you're fucking lying. Lather myself in a vanilla bourbon soap from my local apothecary. Smells absurdly aromatically amazing. I think it's meant for men but I've never really been a gender person. I like what I like and that's that. Think about their tubby tabby shop cat that looks like my cat Bean. Their name is Pepper and they do the same stand-and-grab trick for treats. I chuckled in person but teared up when I strolled out onto University. I miss that sweet and sour thing. All my babies leave me too early. 

Towel off and swipe at the steam and look at my body. I think she looks strong and healthy. This week I walked into the front office and got "Hey skinny minnie! You lose anything else and you'll wither away!" I just laughed awkwardly. Blurted out even more awkwardly "I'm eating", old defensive mentality surfacing from when I really wasn't eating. Which was meant with "Good! Keep it up! You look great!" Smiles and nodding and laughing from the other ladies. I loathe it. 5'5" and 135 with runner's thighs isn't that fucking crazy. They're like 40s-60s with bodies that have borne children. I'm childless and 28. There is no comparison there logically. They ask me what my secret is like I'm trying. I tell them the truth: it's just kind of falling off of me. About 30 pounds since February. At first, the gaping maw of repeated grief. Sudden death, major break-up, and a 5-year fake friendship guillotined. Nowadays I'm thinking my birth control most likely. Hormones are trippy. And a more strict schedule for running to keep my brain from spiraling. I own a scale for the first time in about a decade to keep the skeletor look at bay. Prefer to be stacked, built like a brickhouse, sinfully curvy. Thankfully I stay sexy at any weight thanks to a winning hand in the genetic lottery. Shoutout to my mega babe mommy. Call me skinny if you want but I still got full C's and ass for days. Haters gonna hate. 

Retreat to my lair. I stand in a full length mirror and braid my hair. One side chocolate, one side like a swiss roll, vanilla cream filling. The plum faded already. If you want the vivids to stay stay you need to use like... Splat, and that shit's gnarly. I'm allergic now to permanent black hair dye actually. Slap that on your scalp for long enough and apparently your skin starts revolting. Another lesson learned the hard way. One corner of the mirror holds a butterfly temporary tattoo and a hawk feather pointed skyward and a gently draped faux pearl rosary with a tiny picture of Mother Mary. Pearl is my namesake. Alchemy. The other corner a polaroid of oranges and an inked paw print and a tarot card with a unicorn straddled by a fairy. A dresser with a scanner and a typewriter next door. The typewriter a gift from a friend that now lives in the Netherlands. My first was also a gift, from my mom's mother, 12/13 the first time I met her. Psychopathic narcissist abusive waste of breath bitch that I hope dies slow. My brothers and I plan to piss on her grave. Um, anyways. They wanted me to come and stay with her wife and her for a week over the summer. I don't even have a passport. That shocked her. Clues in conversation that tell me who comes from money and who doesn't. I find I jive more with people that grew up like me- parents bouncing checks until they were banned from the grocery. Just so their kids can eat. This world is sickening. Then my vanity. A little battered now and forever messy. And a pine bookcase resembling a dollhouse my grandpa built lovingly for "Meggy Lou Who". Neither of those my actual names but he could call me whatever he wanted. The last few years he spelled my name like "Magen", I didn't see the point in making a correction. I miss him even though we hardly talked for too too long about anything. Quiet guys. Sitting in silence with him on the bank of a lake. Poles still then tips twitching. His vintage, 70s, mine Walmart, Tasmanian Devil but purple and pink. Slow to set his beer down, then crouching behind, arms wrapping, hand over hand, instructing, "let them fight you a little, tire 'em out", pull up, lower while reeling. Patient, easyyy, easy. Big fat bluegill that had him showing off to the other fisherman and their children/grandchildren, boasting. Me gap toothed and grinning. When he was a kid he and a friend built a raft and sailed the Ohio river for 3 days. He wanted to be just like Huckleberry.

Pull on an off-the-shoulder Tiger Army tee I cut up and a pastel blue pair of shorts, Levi's, always cut-off. They were my mom's. Very 80's. Fit me like a glove, she loves to see me wear them. Growing up I was told I look like my dad a lot, to the infinitesimal irritation of my mom. My hair is rusted golden brown, wavy, and my irises are mostly forest in most light. Widow's peaked and big-nosed and bug-eyed. I do look like him at first sight. Though his hair is darker, walnut to my chestnut. The red in mine is from his grandma, from Ireland but settled in the LB. My mom is champagne/honey blonde, ringlet curls, and hers are more chartreuse. Button-nosed and almond-eyed. But I have her teeth, her sun-speckled freckles, her hands, her shape, her sharp jawline, her snort laugh, one of her dimples, and weirdly similar loopy handwriting. Maybe due to the fact she just always had me plagiarize her signature on the tardy excuses torn from her night school notebooks for my brothers and I during our running-the-yellow-lights mad dash to school car rides.

I fluff my laundry for the second time because I am incapable of doing anything on anything other than my own timeline. Sit down to type. Today's writing exercise? The same as always, an opening of the gates in the dam of my mind. A rushing release of thoughts when the waterline gets too high. Going to church and stepping into confessional and spilling and pouring and bleeding until I again feel light. I don't know who's on the other side. I keep the faith that at the very least they have god on speed dial. If you're reading, hi.

It's been 40 minutes. Today I will both fold my clothes and put them away. Hope you enjoyed this little soirée in my brain. 'Til next time. Love and light and fucking write. Bye! :)

- Practice Makes... Something of Substance

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 2

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon mutters under his breath, face twisting into a deeper frown as both exhaustion and annoyance settle in; etching into his features behind the itchy, damp cloth still covering his face. 

Another giggle bubbles up in your throat, resounds freely around the room as you keep beaming at him from your spot on his couch, though no matter how melodic it sounds, Simon can merely feel his stomach churn and his skin crawl. “Wowee, you sure do cuss a lot, Simon!” 

“Stop calling me that.” Simon deadpans. 

And the curses keep burning and festering on the tip of his tongue, some directed at himself self-deprecatingly, as he simply decides to ignore the stray currently taking up residence in his sacred space. He swallows those insults down. His wet boots squeak on the floor as he turns on his heels and marches towards his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with finality like some pouty teenager. 

The mask comes off swiftly; uncaring of the sharp pain as he tugs at his own hair harshly, pulling out a few damp, dirty blonde hairs by the roots from his scalp before he tosses the mask onto his neatly made bed, and Simon takes a deep breath. 

He discards his BDU’s methodically, throws his dirty clothes into the old laundry hamper in the corner of the manageable bathroom, and takes a quick shower despite his aching muscles and bones screaming at him for more warmth from the hot water. And even after his quick wash, Simon cannot find it in himself to relax, not when he’s all too aware of the strange intruder currently occupying his living room. 

In spite of the hole in his stomach, the angry grumbling vibrating from its empty pit all up to his chest, Simon goes to bed hungry, though it’s nothing he’s unfamiliar with from his past; he simply refuses to deal with you and he’ll try his damn best to keep the contact to the barest minimum until he’s forced to face you again in the morning to take you back to Price’s office–to let the old geezer sort this messy situation. 

Now Simon lies on his knackered mattress at barely 0830 p.m., stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling in utter darkness; ears strained to pick up every little sound you might be making. For a moment, he wonders if you’re snooping around through his stuff, even though he doesn’t really own many personal belongings or sentimental keepsakes. You certainly don’t give off any of those threatening vibes he can easily pick up on with new people; he simply thinks you too daft to be deceiving. 

As thick as two short planks, Simon muses to himself, snorting softly with a straight face. With your bloody tail and stupid dog ears; way too soft and defenceless, dependant on some stranger to be your bloody handler as if you’re not a grown, capable woman yourself– 

His thoughts get disturbed by a sound he hasn’t heard in a long, a very long time. It’s almost too subtle at first, but it still makes him jerk up in his creaky single bed, causing the prickly military-issued blanket to slip off his bare chest and pool around his hips. Simon hates how his heartrate increases slowly and despises the myriads of emotions crashing over him like a tsunami wave. 

And then he hears it again–a steady, high-pitched yet soft noise; alternating between pathetic whinging and gut-wrenching squeaks. 

Simon tries to ignore it for another moment, closing his eyes to will himself to sleep when it seems you’ve given up, until you pick up right where you’ve left off. 

Heaving his massive body out of his bed nearly silently despite the creaking bedframe and the soft groan escaping his throat, he puts on a pair of tattered sweatpants, its waistband hanging baggy and low on his hips from years of wear, and pairs it with an old Army shirt before leaving the safety of his bedroom begrudgingly to sneak back into the living room. 

There is no need to hide his face from someone who has no common sense to even care about his identity, so he doesn't bother to put his mask back on. 

As Simon walks down the short hallway from his bedroom to the open living room, he notices the change of scent as he keeps approaching with caution. It’s sweet, but not too overwhelming. Flowery and fresh, like chamomile and daisies drenched in honeydew, and it gets stuck on the back of his tongue as he can’t stop himself from inhaling deeply.  

The whining stops as soon as he switches the light back on, tawny brown eyes zeroing in on the spot on his couch where you’d arranged the few cushions into a meagre nest, and when your head pops up from within your little den, blinking at him with twitchy ears and wide eyes, Simon gets triggered and thrown back in time in a way that has his breath stutter momentarily and his chest ache as if hit with a sledgehammer. 

A memory of his late mother flashes in front of his inner eyes; lithe body curled up in a makeshift nest to keep her own cubs safe inside a cold apartment in one of the worse corners of Manchester. But it’s gone in a blink and slips back into the dark, rotten corners of his mind before he can begin to process it properly. 

He hasn't thought about her in too long, and the realization makes the shame even worse as it lodges itself in his throat, choking him slowly but surely. 

“Hello,” you chirp suddenly, pulling him back to here and now, and Simon notices the huskiness to your voice from crying out so much. “Oh! Your mask is gone,” you remark with fluttering lashes and a soft chuckle. “You’re so handsome, Simon–” 

Simon huffs. “O’right, stop,” he grumbles before rubbing a calloused hand over his face, scratching his stubble as he feels an unfamiliar heat rise in his pale cheeks. “Whaddaya doin’? Why are you whinging like some bloody puppy?” 

Your ears flatten, nearly disappear under your hair as you avert your eyes from him, and Simon catches himself wondering briefly how you make those cotton balls hide so easily before he hears you answer ruefully: “I'm scared. I don't like sleeping alone in the dark.” 

Ah, shite.  

Simon stares at you for a moment, unblinking and unmoving; shoulders barely rising with shallow breath.  

“Then sleep with the bloody lights on,” he counters eventually. “I don’t give a shite. I'm no' the one payin' for the fuckin' power bill.” 

The pout on your face makes his nose wrinkle in anger, and he hates that he didn't put on his mask, that he's giving you the privilege to judge his facial expression. He tries to reign them back in, keep his ugly mug more neutral. 

“Can I... sleep with you in your bed?” 

You actually manage to throw him off balance with that. His heart skips a violent beat at your innocent question and casual tone, like you're some damn child scared of the dark, but you're not. You're a grown woman asking to share a bed with a stranger, with Ghost of all people! Don't you know who he is? Did nobody bother tell you or are you really that foolish to care? 

“No.” Simon nearly growls at you, trembling hands balling into fists at his sides to keep himself from ripping his own hair out in frustration. He wants to say more, wants to lecture you, get some sense into your idiot hybrid-brain, but he only manages a curt answer. No.  

Your face drops even more, a soft keening whine reaching his trained ears before you swallow it down with great effort as Simon notices the way your delicate throat bobs. The sound brings back more memories of his mother, and pity along with it. For you, for him, for her. He doesn't quite understand the sentiment and he adds it to the list of things he hates, because he can't control anything he’s feeling right now, because you keep confronting him with it unwittingly. 

What Simon does remember is the way his mother had always found comfort in his father's scent. No matter how much of an abusive prick he was towards her, or her children. The memory makes bile rise in his throat and he swallows it quickly. 

“Here,” he gruffs eventually, reaching for the hem of his worn shirt and pulling it off in one smooth motion; uncaring of the way it leaves his broad, scarred torso bare in front of you. “You can have this, but no more whinging, lass.”  

Pity. It’s pity making him do this, he assures himself; something else he hasn’t felt in a bloody long time. A feeling right up there with mercy. It’s what makes him do it, despite knowing that you shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need this from him. He isn't your handler, definitely not your friend. Simon is a stranger to you as much as you are to him, and yet– 

The fabric is thrown at your head with unmatched precision, hanging in front of your face for a moment, surprisingly soft and drenched in his heavenly, musky scent, before you slowly pull it off, tail finally wagging and thumping dully against the couch. But when your eyes uncover and you blink to clear your vision, the spot where Simon was standing previously is empty; leaving you lonely, sad and cold once more. 

As Simon slips back into his own bedroom, silent as ever, his jaw clenches tightly when he hears how the soft thudding of your tail stops at once before his door clicks shut behind him, and one thing becomes even more clear to him– 

He needs you gone. 

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses

[htchnr]

ミ★ aching knees ꜜ FRED WEASLEY.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, in which you fall asleep against Fred's thigh in the common room and it absolutely fries his tired brain. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, first Fred fic ⋆ not proofread whoops i wrote this at 4am ⋆ Fred being an infatuated idiot ⋆ George (lovingly) bullying him ⋆ the golden trio is there for 2 seconds as well. ꜜwc,, 0,5k. 」

「 authors note,, first Fred fic y'all 🫣 let me know what you thought + letting you know that he's now also on my request list so if y'all want me to write more you can send me ideas!. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

the low sounds of students chattering and moving about the common room acts as a lulling sound as you sit on the floor against the couch with Fred, George and the trio while they all talk about your plans for the holidays.

Fred and George talk lively about their plans of mischief while Ron groans in dramatic misery. Harry and Hermione laugh along with the twins' wild ideas.

you yawn, leaning to the side as you rest your head against Fred's thigh who was sitting behind you on the couch. your eyes droop, the melodic sound of everyone's laughter and chatter mixing with the low sounds of the common room noise slowly lulling you to sleep.

Fred barely thinks about it as he moves a hand down to stroke through your hair as your head rests against his thigh. he's still engaged in the conversation, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your messy strands.

George smiles to himself as he catches glimpse of the sight, a know-it-all grin on his lips.

the conversation dwindles after a while, everyone growing tired after the long day. Fred in the meantime has moved from the couch to the floor beside you, your head in his lap and his fingers never leaving your hair. Hermione bids everyone a goodnight, leaving for the girl's dorm as she could barely keep her eyes open.

the twins keep up quiet conversation with Ron and Harry, reminiscing about old pranks or soddy teachers.

George makes a teasing jab about how 'Fred's knees will surely kill him in the morning after sitting too long like this', but Fred shakes his head tiredly. he doesn't mind the dull ache he'll indeed feel, as long as you're at peace and catch some sleep.

besides, he would take any pain if it meant to have you this close to him.

George laughs quietly, standing up with low cracks of his own knees. he makes one last remark along the lines of 'i swear you two are so blind', before he heads up the boy's dorms to sleep.

Harry laughs along at Fred's slightly red cheeks, getting up as well. he bids Fred a goodnight, heading off to his dorm.

Fred sighs tiredly as he looks down at your sleeping form. damn his already aching knees, you look too cute to care about the dull pain. he strokes a stray strand of hair from your face, mentally kicking himself for still not having made a move.

though, he muses, if only you'd stop making him stutter and trip over his words with those damn eyes every time he'd try.

tomorrow, he nods to himself. knowing that your full attention will make him a stumbling mess once he tries once more. but this time, he huffs as he closes his eyes, this time he'll push through and finally get the words out.

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[joostsblog]

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

~

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

~

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

~

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.

[cherryxbooo]

Just us. Just this. Just love.

Summary: Days off for Oscar are rare, but whenever he does have one, the two of you love spending it with nothing but slow, lazy mornings.

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff

I woke up to the dim morning light barely filtering through the curtains.

The warmth beside me was familiar, Oscar’s arm draped lazily over my waist, his steady breathing tickling the back of my neck.

For a moment, I just stayed there, wrapped in the comfort of him, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside.

It was rare for him to have a morning off, and I was selfishly savoring every second of it.

No early training, no media duties, no team meetings. Just us.

I carefully turned over in his arms to face him, my movements slow and careful, not wanting to wake him up just yet.

His features were soft in sleep, his messy hair falling over his forehead, lips slightly parted.

He looked so peaceful like this, so different from the focused, determined driver everyone saw on race days.

I traced a light fingertip down his cheek, smiling to myself when he stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

My heart swelled at the thought of how lucky I was to have him.

Despite everything, the fame, the pressure, and the constant travel, Oscar always made time for me.

He never made me feel like I was just a part of the background noise in his fast-paced world.

Just as I was about to settle back into the warmth of the blankets, he shifted, pulling me closer and mumbling something against my hair.

“Mmm, you’re staring love.” His voice was thick with sleep, groggy and low.

I giggled, tucking my face into his chest. “I am not.”

“You so are,” he argued, his arms tightening around me.

“Why are you awake? It’s early.”

“I like watching you sleep. You look cute when you’re not scowling at data sheets or wearing that severe‘ race mode’ face.”

Oscar let out a soft chuckle, his lips pressing a lazy kiss to the top of my head.

“Race mode face? That’s a new one.”

I hummed, tilting my chin up to look at him.

“It’s real, I swear. It’s the face you make when you’re so focused, your eyebrows practically fuse together.”

“Sounds attractive,” he mused, eyes finally fluttering open to meet mine.

“Very,” I teased, poking his cheek. “But I like sleepy Oscar better.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was still laced with sleep, but there was a playful edge to it now.

“And why’s that?”

“Because sleepy Oscar is soft and cuddly and doesn’t mind staying in bed with me all morning,”

I replied, tangling my legs with his under the blankets.

He smirked. “I don’t mind staying in bed with you any time of the day.”

I rolled my eyes, though my heart swelled at his words.

“Good, because I don’t plan on moving anytime soon.”

He grinned, eyes full of something warm and lazy, before reaching over to pull the blankets higher around us.

“Fine by me.”

The morning was slow, soft, and wrapped in warmth, the kind of morning I never wanted to end.

Oscar and I stayed tangled up in each other, limbs lazily intertwined under the covers as the early sunlight peeked through the curtains.

His arms were snug around me, his fingers drawing absentminded patterns on my back, while my head rested comfortably against his chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a soothing rhythm that made me want to stay in bed forever.

Neither of us spoke much at first, just enjoying the peaceful quiet, exchanging sleepy kisses and whispered words that didn’t really mean much, but still felt important.

His lips brushed against my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, soft, feather-light pecks that made my heart squeeze in my chest.

I hummed contentedly, tilting my head up to steal another lazy kiss, but just as our lips met, my stomach decided to betray me with an embarrassingly loud growl.

Oscar froze for a second before bursting into laughter, his chest shaking beneath me.

“Wow,” he teased, running a hand through my hair.

“Didn’t realize I was dating a little gremlin.”

I groaned, burying my face in his chest to hide my embarrassment.

“Ignore it. I’m perfectly happy staying right here forever.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, rubbing slow circles on my back.

“And what if I start listing all the breakfast foods you love? Pancakes… eggs… bacon… a warm croissant with butter…”

“Stop,” I whined dramatically, but I could already feel my resolve crumbling.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Come on, let’s get up babe. We’ll eat, and then we can be lazy the rest of the day.”

I sighed, finally giving in, though I made a show of stretching as dramatically as possible before sitting up with him.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But only because you promised we could be lazy later.”

Oscar smirked as he got out of bed, stretching his arms above his head.

“Deal.”

Still half-asleep, I shuffled behind him into the bathroom, where we moved around each other effortlessly, like we’d done this a hundred times before.

He automatically reached for my toothbrush, squeezing just the right amount of toothpaste onto it before handing it to me.

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “Taking care of me now?”

He simply shrugged, already brushing his own teeth. “Always.”

I smiled at his reflection in the mirror before starting to brush mine, our shoulders bumping lightly as we stood side by side.

The morning was quiet and easy, one of those moments that made me feel like we’d been doing this forever like we’d always been meant to.

After we finished, I reached for my hairbrush, but before I could, Oscar plucked it from my hands.

“Let me,” he said, tugging me gently to stand in front of him.

I turned, raising an amused brow.

“Oh? You offering to be my personal hairstylist now?”

He grinned. “Maybe. You’re a little high-maintenance, but I think I can handle it.”

I gasped, swatting at his arm, but he only laughed as he started brushing my hair.

His touch was careful, surprisingly gentle, like he was afraid of hurting me.

Every now and then, his fingers would graze my scalp, sending warm shivers down my spine.

“This is nice Osc,” I murmured, watching him through the mirror.

Oscar met my eyes, a small, proud smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “I think you’re actually pretty good at this.”

He tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Maybe I should quit racing and open a salon.”

I snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, babe.”

He chuckled, finishing up before setting the brush down.

Satisfied with his work, he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I like getting ready with you.”

I leaned back into him, my hands covering his. “Me too.”

Oscar pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek before pulling away.

“Alright, let’s get you fed before you start getting grumpy.”

I gasped, feigning offense as I turned to face him.

“I do not get grumpy.”

He gave me a knowing look.

“Tell that to that one time you almost cried because your pancakes took too long.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That was one time.”

He smirked, lacing his fingers with mine as we walked out of the bathroom.

“And I learned to always keep snacks on me.”

I groaned, though I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He grinned, squeezing my hand.

And he was right, I didn’t. I loved him, more than I could ever put into words.

As we made our way to the kitchen, Oscar kept a firm grip on my hand, lazily swinging it back and forth between us.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft padding of our footsteps against the floor and the occasional yawn that slipped past my lips.

“Alright, chef,” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What’s the plan? Pancakes? Eggs? A five-star gourmet breakfast?”

Oscar smirked as he opened the fridge. “How about toast?”

I gaped at him. “Toast? That’s it? I expected something a little more… grand.”

He turned, giving me an unimpressed look.

“Did you want breakfast or a three-course meal?”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. But at least let’s make something fun.”

Oscar hummed, grabbing eggs, butter, and milk from the fridge. “Pancakes it is.”

I grinned, immediately moving to grab the flour and sugar from the pantry.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

As we started prepping, Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, trapping me between him and the counter.

“Are you actually going to help, or are you just going to look cute and distract me?”

I tilted my head back against his shoulder, pretending to think.

“Mmm… a little of both?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck before finally letting me go.

“Fine. But at least stir the batter.”

I happily took the whisk, dipping it into the mixture, but after a few turns, I felt Oscar’s hands settle on my waist again.

He leaned forward, chin resting on my shoulder as he watched me stir.

“You’re whisking too slow love,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like to do it instead, Mr. Professional Whisker?”

He grinned. “No, no. You’re doing great. Just… here.”

He reached around me, his hands guiding mine, and suddenly, we were whisking together, his chest pressed up against my back, his lips dangerously close to my ear.

“This feels like a really lame excuse to be all over me,”

I pointed out, fighting back a smile.

Oscar hummed, pretending to think. “Maybe. But are you complaining?”

“… No.”

“Exactly.”

I giggled, nudging him away playfully. “Okay, okay, I can take it from here.”

He backed away with a smirk but didn’t go far, staying close as he grabbed a pan and placed it on the stove.

“Fine. But if the pancakes suck, it’s on you.”

I rolled my eyes. “They won’t suck. Have some faith in your girl.”

As I poured the batter into the pan, I felt his hands on my waist again, and before I could react, he lifted me onto the counter effortlessly.

“Hey!” I squeaked, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“What was that for?”

Oscar smirked, standing between my legs as he settled his hands on my thighs.

“You looked too cute standing there. Had to put you somewhere I could admire you properly.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

I sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Oscar gasped, clutching his chest like I had just mortally wounded him.

“Wow. That hurt.”

I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You’ll survive.”

He grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss, slow and sweet, as the smell of pancakes filled the air.

I melted into him, hands tangling in his hair, completely forgetting about breakfast for a moment.

Then, suddenly—

“Crap! The pancakes!”

Oscar and I both jumped apart, scrambling to grab the spatula as we turned back to the stove.

He flipped them just in time, revealing a perfectly golden-brown pancake.

I exhaled in relief. “Crisis averted.”

Oscar chuckled, peering over at me. “You were the one distracting me this time.”

I huffed. “You kissed me first.”

“Yeah, well, you kissed back.”

I rolled my eyes, bumping my shoulder against his.

“Whatever. Just focus before you burn our breakfast.”

Oscar smirked but didn’t argue, instead stacking the finished pancakes onto a plate before drizzling syrup over them.

Once everything was ready, he grabbed two forks, handing me one before hoisting himself up onto the counter next to me.

Instead of using his own plate, he cut a piece of pancake and held it up to my lips, wiggling his brows playfully.

“Say ahh.”

I gave him a look but still leaned in, taking the bite.

“Mmm,” I hummed dramatically.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. You make good pancakes.”

Oscar smirked. “Told you.”

We ate like that, sitting on the counter, sharing bites, laughing between mouthfuls, occasionally stopping for soft kisses in between.

The kitchen smelled like butter and syrup, and the warmth of the morning mixed with the warmth of being with him, making everything feel soft and golden.

And as Oscar reached over to wipe a smudge of syrup from the corner of my mouth, his touch lingering a second too long, I realized something.

I loved this. I loved him.

I also realized that I should cherish these moments with him the most.

After finishing off the last few bites of pancakes, Oscar stretched his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, we should probably clean up before we slip into full food coma mode.”

I groaned dramatically, letting my head fall against his shoulder.

“Can’t we just leave it for later?”

He snorted. “Yeah, because future us is going to be super thrilled to walk into a kitchen full of dirty dishes.”

I huffed, kicking my legs lightly against the counter.

“Fine. But only if you help.”

Oscar smirked. “I was planning on making you do it all by yourself, but since you asked so nicely…”

I swatted his arm, making him chuckle as he hopped off the counter and reached for the plates.

“Alright, lazybones. You wash, I dry?”

I slid off the counter and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my cheek against his back.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

Oscar chuckled, leaning back into me. “Yeah, yeah. Now get to washing.”

I rolled my eyes but did as he said, filling the sink with warm, soapy water and dunking the dishes in.

Oscar stood beside me, towel in hand, waiting to dry whatever I handed him.

It was quiet, the comfortable kind, with only the sound of running water and the occasional clinking of dishes breaking the silence.

Every now and then, Oscar would “accidentally” bump his hip against mine, and I’d retaliate by flicking a few soap bubbles his way.

After a particularly well-aimed flick that landed on his nose, he turned to me slowly, an exaggerated look of betrayal on his face.

“Oh, you’ve done it now love.”

I gasped, laughing as I tried to back away, but before I could escape, Oscar grabbed a handful of bubbles from the sink and wiped them across my cheek.

“OSCAR!” I squealed, swatting at him. “That is NOT how you clean dishes!”

He grinned. “Maybe not, but it’s a lot more fun babe.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched up into a smile as I grabbed a towel and halfheartedly smacked his arm with it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Oscar wiggled his brows. “I know.”

With a dramatic sigh, I turned back to the sink and finished washing the last plate.

“Okay, all done. Can we be lazy now?”

Oscar threw the dish towel onto the counter and grabbed my hand.

“Finally. Come on.”

The second we reached the couch, I flopped down face-first into the cushions with an exaggerated groan.

“This is where I live now.”

Oscar chuckled, sitting beside me and tugging at my arm.

“Nope, you live here, with me.”

I let him pull me up until I was curled against his chest, his arms wrapping securely around me.

I sighed in contentment, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

“Mmm. This is nice.”

He hummed, running his fingers up and down my back in lazy strokes.

“Told you I’d make today a lazy day.”

I tilted my head up to look at him.

“You also forced me to clean the kitchen, so I don’t know if I fully trust you Osc.”

Oscar smirked. “That was an essential task. Now we can be lazy without guilt.”

I huffed, but I couldn’t argue with that logic. “Fine.”

He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over us, tucking me further into his warmth.

“Better?”

I nodded, feeling sleepier by the second. “Much.”

Oscar pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Good.”

We sat there like that for a while, legs tangled together, his fingers tracing random patterns on my arm.

The TV was on, playing some random show we weren’t really paying attention to, but neither of us cared.

At some point, I let out a yawn, and Oscar chuckled, pulling me even closer.

“Getting sleepy on me already darling?”

I mumbled against his chest, my voice heavy with drowsiness.

“Maybe.”

He smiled, his lips grazing the top of my head.

“Then sleep. I’ll be right here.”

I sighed happily, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. “Love you.”

His hold on me tightened just slightly, his voice softer than ever.

“Love you more.”

And just like that, with the warmth of his embrace, the soft hum of the TV in the background, and the slow rhythm of our heartbeats syncing together, I drifted off, wrapped up in the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures or perfect moments.

Just us. Just this. Just love.

The end

[youleftmenochoicebut]

hiii saw ur post ab requests and i was wondering if you could do some morning fluff with rick like one of the first few days they arrive at alexandria and reader and rick have been sleeping on the floor of the living room with the rest of the group and now that everyone was settled in they left to their own house and reader and rick take the master bedroom and they’re just like waking up after the first night that they’ve slept peacefully and idk some stuff ab judith being a cute baby and carl being happy that his dad looks happier now just fluffy family morning stuff (rick being touchy) THANK YOU UR AN ICON xoxoxoxo

HYPNOTIC.

pairing. — rick grimes x fem!reader

summary. — it feels surreal to finally feel somehow at peace after months of being non-stop on the road.

warnings. — fluff, may be a bit off when it comes to the timing and all cause i haven’t watched twd in a while, age gap (its a rick fic, duh), use of y/n

a/n. — of course inspiration comes to me when i have to study! thanks for the request!! i love rick sm it’s concerning.

the morning sunlight hits you harder then you thought it would, the rays of sunshine making you blink awake. for a moment your body is back in fight-or-flight mode, your mind confused and sure you’re still out there. it makes you jolt up, and only when you take in your surroundings, you feel yourself relax again.

you’re safe. or at least as safe as you can be in a closed community of people you and your group don’t know or trust. you sigh, stretching your hands over your head with a yawn, and glance down at the empty space next to you on the bed. it’s cold, so Rick must’ve left your bed quite some time ago. you go to brush your teeth, brushing out your messy hair while you’re in the bathroom, and decide to go find your boyfriend.

it’s still strange to call him that. your boyfriend. and your relationship isn’t one that happened gradually. it actually just… happened. one night, a few weeks ago, when you where trying to find any crumble of left civilization with the rest of your group, the dam broke. Rick has opened his heart and mind to you, the only person who’s always been caring and patient with him ever since that first meeting at the farm. it ended in a sloppy makeout session against one of the trees, desperately not wanting to wake anyone up. and that’s how it went, the two of you being together ever since.

you smile to yourself as you make your way downstairs, bare feet not making much noise on the wooden steps, and you deliberately stop in the entry to the kitchen. the sight melts your soul then and there, Judith sat on the kitchen island with Rick moving around the space and cooking. he’s actually cooking, humming under his breath and murmuring something to Judith every few seconds even if the one year old can’t answer. you see Carl too, the teenage boy perched up on one of the stools, watching his dad with a grin on his face.

Carl is also the first one to notice you, and you swear his smile brightens when he does, waving at you to come closer.

„good morning, sleepyhead.” Rick turns to face you, and you realize he’s fresh shaven, the lack of beard aging him backwards a good couple of years. you raise your eyebrows while you approach him, reaching out your hands to put them on his cheeks.

„morning.” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to lean in and plant a quick peck against his lips, pulling back as fast. „i kinda liked the beard.” you muse, looking over his shoulder to see what he’s cooking.

your mouth waters, the scent of eggs filling your nostrils and you smile down at the pan. only a few seconds pass before you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pressing his torso onto your back and leaving soft kisses over the skin of your shoulder and neck. it’s sweet and domestic, the kind he gives in public, not like the ones he gives you when you’re hot and bothered in some private spot for a quickie.

„oh yeah? well then, i’ll just have to grow it out again.” he rasps out into your ear, and you nod, making yourself the boss in the situation again, glancing up at Carl.

„two eggs or three?” you ask the boy softly, meanwhile his father keeps attacking you with light caresses. „no, don’t answer that. you’re getting three.”

Carl only chuckles and he looks like he’s pondering over something before deciding against it in his head, just nodding.

the four of you eat your breakfast in relative silence, you feeding yourself and Judith at the same time, the little girl an embodiment of an angel. Rick leaves right after breakfast, your lips meeting his in a long, passionate kiss after which he walks out the door, so you’re left with the kids.

you start to gather up the dirty dishes, skipping over to the sink with the plates and forks, putting on the water. for a moment you stare at the droplets, a sigh escaping your mouth, and soon you start washing all the platters.

“Y/N…” Carl says suddenly, and you almost jump up, honestly thinking the boy had walked away by now, and you turn around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“i’m glad you’re with my dad.” he adds with a small smile, shrugging as he runs his fingers through his hair. “he’s happy again. like he was before the apocalypse.”

your heart flutters at his comment, and you smile back at him, shaking your head. “i’m glad i’m with your dad too, Carl.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Quiet mornings with Shigure Sohma

Pairing: Shigure x reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: While you're surrounded by mess and trouble all day, you can't help but enjoy those mornings with none other than Shigure.

Warnings: the fic no one asked for, I fell for fruits basket so hard that you guys are forced to read my trash now hehe, fluff over fluff

The weather outside is soft today. Not warm, not cold, just enough of something in-between to make the morning feel cozy. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor like you always do, sunlight pooling across your lap, your hands holding a ceramic mug of tea. The house feels quiet with all the kids gone, without Tohru’s soft voice and the boys fighting over nonsense. But that peace, you know, is an illusion. Or, at the very least, a temporary state.

Because Shigure Soma is never quiet for long.

Right on cue, there’s a shuffle of feet against the floorboards, and then his voice - a melodious hum that could belong to someone much less chaotic.

“My darling,” he calls, the sing-song lilt of his tone already filled with teasing.

“How rude of you to start your morning without me. My feelings are positively shattered!”

You tilt your head just enough to see him standing in the doorway, one hand pressed theatrically to his chest as though wounded. His yukata is draped carelessly over his shoulders, the belt knotted loosely at his waist. His hair is a little messy, and he hasn’t yet shaved the faint stubble on his jaw. But the sight of him - rumpled, relaxed, utterly himself -makes warmth bloom in your chest anyway.

“Shigure,” you say with an exasperated smile, “it’s past ten. I’m not going to wait forever for you to wake up.”

He gasps as though you’ve just insulted his ancestors.

“Ah, how cold-hearted my sweet muse is! If you loved me, surely you’d have brought me breakfast in bed-”

“I made tea,” you interrupt, raising your mug pointedly.

“And there’s toast in the kitchen. If you want anything else, you’re on your own.”

He pouts, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not offended in the slightest. He never is, really. Shigure’s ego might be gigantic, but it’s not fragile. If anything, he seems to flourish on your chit-chat, your little refusals lightening up his mood even more. It’s a dance the two of you have perfected, a rhythm of soft blows and exaggerated reactions that always ends in laughter.

Shigure pads across the room and lowers himself to sit beside you, far closer than necessary. You feel the brush of his knee against yours, the gentle press of his arm as he leans in, peering at your face with open curiosity.

“And what, pray tell, are you thinking about so deeply, hmm? You’ve got that faraway look again.”

His voice is quieter now, softer. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, their usual playfulness tempered by something more genuine.

You hesitate, caught off-guard.

“I’m not… really thinking about anything,” you reply, though it’s not entirely true.

There’s always something brewing in your mind: a stray memory, a half-formed plan, the ever-present hum of life’s what-ifs. How are you supposed to enjoy the present with the past and future weighing down on you this heavily? But explaining those things feels impossible, so you simply shrug.

“Just enjoying the quiet, I guess.”

Shigure hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if to examine you from a different angle. His dark eyes are warm, patient, even as his lips twitch with the beginnings of another grin.

“Ah, yes. You’ve been enchanted by my humble house. It’s no wonder you’ve fallen for me so completely.”

You roll your eyes while taking a brief look at the destroyed shoji, don’t bother moving away when he rests his head against your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek, and you can smell the faint trace of his shampoo. Definitely something light and floral. Did he use yours again?

“You’re insufferable,” you murmur, but there’s no real bite in your words.

Your free hand comes up almost instinctively to comb through his hair, smoothing out some of the more unruly strands. He hums again, this time in obvious ease.

“You’re so good to me. “Really, I don’t deserve such a kind, gentle soul.”

You snort, flicking his ear lightly.

“That’s the first truthful thing you’ve said all morning.”

Shigure doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him shift, his weight settling more fully against your side. It’s a little unbalanced, but you don’t mind. His presence is warm, comforting against the sometimes harsh reality. And though he’s quiet now, you can sense the wheels turning in his head, the way his mind is always spinning with something - mischief, poetry, or the occasional genuine thought he’ll tuck away for safekeeping.

It’s in moments like this that you’re reminded of the duality of Shigure Sohma. He’s a mystery wrapped in jokes and half-truths, a man who wears his whimsy like armor but lets it slip when he’s close enough to trust. And though he can be infuriating, there’s a softness to him as well, a tenderness that he rarely shows but always carries.

“I like this,” he comments suddenly, his voice low enough that you almost miss it.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the weight of his words settle in the space between you.

“Like what?” you ask quietly.

“This.”

He gestures vaguely, his hand brushing yours where it rests on the floor.

“The mornings with you. The quiet. The way you let me bother you without pushing me away.”

There’s a smile in his tone while his breath caresses your skin gently, but it’s faint, almost self-conscious.

You blink, taken aback. Shigure is rarely so direct, so open. When was the last time he talked this seriously with you, let alone with his voice this muted? You don’t quite know what to say, but you feel something shift in your chest, a fluttering warmth, soft and fragile.

“I like it too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Even when you’re being a nuisance.”

That earns you a chuckle, low and rich. Shigure lifts his head to look at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes him look far younger, far happier. He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze lingers, warm and steady, as though committing you to memory.

For a moment, the two of you simply sit there, the world fading into the background. The sunlight shifts, casting patterns across the floorboards, and the faint scent of tea and spring air fills the room. It’s the kind of moment that feels fragile, like it could shatter if you so much as breathe too loudly. You can’t help but allow your eyes to rest for a moment, to take in the calmness of the moment.

But then Shigure sighs dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Ah, I suppose I’ll have to go hunt for food if I want to survive this cruel, neglectful treatment.”

You laugh, the sound light and unrestrained.

“There’s toast in the kitchen. You’re so dramatic”, you remind him again, shaking your head.

“And yet you adore me,” he remarks, pushing himself to his feet with exaggerated effort.

He stretches, his yukata slipping slightly from one shoulder, and you catch the briefest glimpse of his collarbone before he adjusts it. A man looking this good with that cheeky mouth…How is your stay here supposed to end in a good way?

“Maybe I do,” you reply without thinking.

The words slip out way too easily, carried by the warmth in your chest and the sight in front of you.

Shigure freezes, his hand halfway to his hair. For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, that you’ve somehow crossed an invisible line. Does he feel uncomfortable, insulted even? But then he turns, his expression unreadable, and you feel your breath catch.

“Careful, my dear,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost teasing.

There’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. something softer, more vulnerable. Something you’ve never caught before in his gaze. For a moment, time seems to stand still, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“I might just take you seriously.”

You hold his gaze, the words lingering in the air between you. And though your heart is racing, you manage a small, steady smile.

“Maybe you should.”

[crowsofdarkness]

Dorogaya: Chapter Two

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader.

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: It has been a few years since Bucky and Reader went into hiding. Just when they thought they were slowly building a life together, the past comes back with a vengeance.

Authors Note: This is the sequel to Soldat! You should read that series first. This takes place during Civil War. Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl @cats-chaotic-mind @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @pumpkin-babydoll @ordelixx @starfly-nicole

Soldat Masterlist | Dorogaya Masterlist

Whoever created the saying ‘you can cut the tension with a knife’ had never been more wrong. Someone would need a power saw to cut the tension between Bucky and I. After the little disagreement we had, we both went to sleep with our backs turned towards each other. It was well into the morning and not one word had been spoken between us. 

Bucky was in the bathroom, getting ready for our market trip, while I was standing at the counter with my back turned towards the bathroom and making a list of everything we needed. Despite the bad end to my night, I had managed to make decent money at work so we were able to buy more than usual. 

Sensing Bucky’s warmth behind me, I continued to ignore him as I double counted the money. It became incredibly hard to ignore him when his scent filled my nose, sending chills throughout my body. We stood shoulder to shoulder as he looked over some of his knives before pocketing them. 

“You haven’t brought your knives with you in almost a year,” I spoke softly. 

He shrugged and I felt him slip one into my back pocket. His hand lingered for a quick second before pulling away. 

“I have a weird feeling.” He admitted. 

Bucky went to walk away but I placed a hand on his broad chest to stop him. His eyes looked into my own and I could sense the disappointment lingering off of him. 

“I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’ve been so upset with what Hydra did to me that I forgot for a second of what you went through. It was wrong of me to be so ‘woe is me’ when you’re going through the same thing; only worse.” 

He sighed and placed his flesh hand over mine that was still placed on his chest. He gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have shut you out the way I did. The past few days I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that something is going to happen.”

I looked at him confused. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “We should get going.” 

Bucky dropped my hand to place his hat over his head and he went to hand me mine but I declined. 

“I think my new hair color is going to be enough of a disguise,” I joked while throwing it up into a messy bun. 

“I still can’t believe it changed that quick,” Bucky said. 

A large groan left my lips. “I know. I thought about dying it to my original color but who knows that it won’t change back.” 

Bucky shrugged. “I kind of like it.” 

“Oh you do, huh?” 

I could stop the small giggle I let out as the air around us shifted. The anger between us dissipated and was replaced with sexual tension. Bucky closed the distance between us in one large step and his metal fingers tangled in my hair, releasing it around my face. 

“I also like it when it’s down,” Bucky mused, his voice getting deeper. “Easier to grab.” 

His fingers gently grabbed the back of my skull and pulled my lips closer to his. 

Clearing my throat, I tried to think of something to say back. But with the intense sexual feeling that was warming my insides, my brain went to mush. Lust clouded around us, creating a small bubble with only the two of us. We were blocked out from the rest of the world. I stumbled over my words and could feel Bucky’s warm breath fanning over my lips. 

“Y/N,” he breathed. 

“Yes?” 

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to say. But he wasn’t able to speak because my phone ringing from the counter brought us back to reality. I felt him start to pull away so I gently grabbed his hips. 

“I have voicemail,” I reminded him. 

He shook his head, embarrassment causing his cheeks to turn red. “It’s okay. We should really get going.” 

And suddenly the bubble around us popped. 

Letting out a sigh, I reached for my phone. Bucky slipped on his glove over his metal hand so he hadn’t noticed the look of shock on my face when I read the new text message. 

Make sure to bring an umbrella today. I’m seeing a chance of rain.

The number may have been unknown but I didn’t matter. I knew who it came from. 

“Who was it?” Bucky questioned from behind. 

“No one,” I shook my head while pocketing my phone. “Ready?” 

Bucky knew I was hiding something but thankfully he decided not to press the issue. We both walked out of the apartment and I suddenly had the same feeling that something was about to happen today. 

Something we weren’t prepared for. 

Giving the old lady a quick smile of thanks, I placed the bag of apples in the one I had brought from home and looked around for Bucky. He mentioned that he needed to run a personal errand once but that was a while ago. I started to worry that something might have happened to him, especially after receiving the text message earlier. 

“Looking for someone?” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Bucky. “Find what you need?” 

He nodded before slowly pulling out a small box from his pocket and handed it towards me. I took it without saying a word and when I opened it, a small gasp left my lips. Inside was a small necklace. A black gem shaped as a circle was in the middle and gold surrounded it. 

“What is this?” I asked. 

“Happy Birthday.” 

My eyes snapped away from the necklace and over to Bucky. His hands were deep in his pockets, something I noticed he did when he was nervous. 

“You remembered?” 

It was right when we first arrived in Bucharest, one of the earlier nights, we stayed up as he listened to me go on about my life before SHIELD; my childhood, my family, and the time I spent in the FBI and SWAT. 

Bucky nodded. “I know it’s not much but it’s all I could afford.” 

Immediately shutting him up, I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “It’s absolutely perfect, Bucky. Thank you.” 

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I turned my back to him, allowing him to place the necklace on my neck. Bucky’s breath fanned over the back of my neck and chills took over my body. His hands rested on my hips from behind and his soft lips left a kiss on the side of my neck. 

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m taking things slow between us. I’m trying to remember how to do all of this.” Bucky admitted with a hushed tone. 

“It’s alright. I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. 

My fingertips played with the necklace and my heart warmed with the thought that Bucky had wanted to get me a present. 

Bucky brushed his lips against the side of my head and motioned towards the plum stand that was a few feet in front of us. 

“Alright, let’s get some plums then head back home.” 

His metal arm wrapped around my shoulder as he led me towards the stand. I remained quiet as I watched Bucky converse with the lady in Romanian, asking if the plums were good today. After he bought five, he looked down at me with a small smile. 

“What?” He asked.

“I like it when you speak Romanian,” I admitted while biting my lip. 

Suddenly the air around us shifted and Bucky noticed it as well. He pulled me closer to him and looked around the market. His body went rigid with tension and I quickly took the bag of plums from the lady then we both rushed our way home. 

We came to a stop as we were getting ready to cross the road, however, Bucky’s eyes landed on a man that was working at a newsstand. The man watched our every movement with fear in his eyes. 

“We’ve been made,” Bucky muttered. 

My eyes doubled. “What? Are you sure?”

He discreetly nodded towards the man, who now left his stand, and we both crossed out way over to it. Bucky looked around while my eyes went straight to the newspaper from today and what I read on the front page dropped my heart straight to my stomach. Even though I couldn’t read Romanian, the only words I needed to know were Winter Soldier. 

“Bucky,” I stammered while showing him the front page. “What does this say?”

“I’m wanted for bombing the U.N in Vienna.” 

His heart hammered in his chest and his breath quickened. After he threw the paper back on the stand, he brought me into his chest and started walking back towards our apartment. It was only a few minutes from the market so thankfully we could get out of hiding fast. 

“What are we going to do?” I trembled. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassured me. “Let’s just get home. We’ll figure it out.” 

Once we were safely inside the complex, Bucky and I both rushed up the stairs but he came to a quick halt right outside the door. His shoulders went straight and he brought out a knife from his pocket. 

“What is it?” 

“Someone’s inside,” he muttered nodding towards the door. 

“Seriously? Who found out where we live?” I thought mostly towards myself. 

Bucky went to go inside but I stepped in front of him to stop him. “Let me go first. Police are looking for you, not me. If they’re inside, I can distract them long enough for you to make a run for it.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Y/N.” 

“I’ll be okay. We’ll meet at that place in the mountains.” 

We had a small house up in the mountains that we were using as a safe house in case something like this were to happen. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, I entered the apartment with the knife clutched hard in my hand. I sensed a body as soon as my feet crossed the threshold and once I saw who exactly was in the apartment, the knife clattered to the ground causing him to turn on his heels, shield drawn high ready to fight. 

All of the past feelings slammed into me like a brick wall and even under the mask, I could tell that his face was showing the effects of how tired he was, his eyes shined a little less than they used too. 

We stared at each other for a few long moments before he placed the shield on the counter. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” 

Swallowing the very large lump in my throat, my voice had come out way more shaky than I had intended. 

“Steve.” 

[solbaby7]

Make You Feel My Love

pairing: azriel x reader

[ part 2 to Make You Feel Something ]

warnings: sexual tension, possible sexual descriptions, not intended for readers under 18, swearing, best friends who fuck, possible typos

summary: Late nights and dim lights with a Shadowsinger who bares it all when it comes to you.

[part 1 ]

—

Practice makes perfect.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time the sun would set and Azriel came strolling through the doors of your bedchamber. He’s grown rather confident as a muse, such perfect features translating on dozens of pages in your sketchbook and countless canvases with him draped over the throne or laid out in a field of flowers. Two of them were a set, a close enough depiction of the shadowsinger in a spring, water up to his chest and inky hair dripping over his forehead—he looked peaceful, like the world hadn’t yet taken a piece of his soul. Most were divided between the two of you; stolen slices of sunshine and bargained bits of darkness hung proudly on his walls, even the nude one had its own home in his closet. “Where do you want me?”

“On the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk growing in the corner of full lips but he obeys. “Skipping right to the fun parts, are we?”

“Not this time,” You state firmly, arms crossing at your chest and putting your foot down. “I have three sketchbooks filled with half-finished pieces because you and that silver tongue of yours.”

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Azriel plops onto your bed face down, arms curling under the same pillow he was burying his face in. “Why don’t we do this in your room more often? I’m sure sitting for hours will be much more bearable with the smell of you surrounding me.”

“We stopped doing that because you kept falling asleep.” You’re not even facing him, bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors as you dragged over a chair and the small side table beside it. The soft blue book you pull out is far more intricate than any of the others he’d seen you use before, a special set of charcoals were pullout and sharpened. Stained fingers smear at the page, giving a rough base to sketch upon and Azriel finds he falls in love with the messy ponytail you pull your hair into each time before you’d started.

Azriel made a little noise, humming into the comfort of your sheets after shrugging off his shorts; no underwear this time. Just endless miles of hard muscles and giant wings that settled into the soft fabric of your duvet. “Even better, I’m quite handsome when I sleep.”

“You snore.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? Shall I ask Rhys to join us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind poking around in my head to help confirm.”

It was a harmless taunt; one he probably still wouldn’t have laughed at even when you were just friends. But now—this. The late nights and early mornings laughing about nothing, fingers smeared in whatever medium you’d chosen to use that time. Sometimes it would lead to more; feverish mouths molding against one another, your fingers tracing at bare skin while Az’s greedy hands tug off your clothes. Soft promises branded at your flesh each time your bodies connected, shadows in a frenzy, touching the places his hands couldn’t get to but he swallows every moan, every blissed out whimper until he was full off you and the air you breathed.

Other times were softer, two friends bonding over something they didn’t have to share with others. A reprieve from expectations; a place where Azriel bared his body and allowed another to find a beauty in him he had yet to see. “You wouldn’t dare—you’d get too jealous having someone else looking at me the way you do.”

“Maybe, I’ll just think of a different memory; of me before a mirror with my hands between my thighs.”

It’s too easy to push the right buttons; amber irises peering at you over the plush pillow beneath him, wide shoulders tense and body half covered by the sheets. “That’s not funny.”

You’re already sketching the outlines of the bed frame, the mattress and the crinkled pillows. Rough outlines of a figure beginning to form before your very eyes as you continued, fresh linen sheets, a thick duvet that smelled of you bunched low at Azriel’s waist. “I wasn’t laughing.” He shifts in bed, hair messy and gaze darkening when taking you in; giving you time to change your words. “You moved.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?” You poke harder, amused grin plastered on your face. “You jealous?”

To your surprise, Azriel nods; just once but it’s enough to have your stomach doing flips. “I don’t like the thought of someone else seeing you like that—someone that’s not me.”

The movement doesn’t alter the direction of the sketch too much and the way he rests on his side, upper body propped up by one strong arm while the other rested over his stomach and he’s not as awkward with his hands anymore—allowing them to just be. You don’t dare look in his eyes, fearful of the secrets he’d lure out of you and you linger around areas that have already been completed. The strong lines of his waist, the dark trail of hair, the muscles of his abdomen that seems to flex slightly when your stare lasts a beat too long. “That your way of telling me not to be seeing other people?”

“Have you been seeing other people?”

You try to ignore the fire that burns in your belly at the jealously he openly displays and your hand pulls away from the paper, a brow raised in question. “Have you?”

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact under the intensity of such a rich gold and you’re fairly certain he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest. This was the closest either of you had gotten to verifying what it was you were doing and suddenly the warmth from the fire is entirely too much. A finger hooks under the neckline of your shirt, tugging gently in a motion that Azriel doesn’t miss, tongue darting out to wet his lip. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

True.

It wasn’t like he had the time to juggle another woman between all of his responsibilities and spending every spare second sneaking off into whatever room was empty for a few minutes of skin on skin, mouth to mouth and tongue sliding over tongue. “Maybe, I want to hear you say it.” It comes out a little shy, head tilting to the side to rest against your hand and shadows twist up your ankle, around your calf and over your knees. They stop at your thighs, the cool sensation almost resembling the pressure of hands when they tease at the hem of your sleep shorts. “Az—“

“You have to hear the words?” The shadowsingers voice goes devastatingly low, unbearably taunting; luring you in and daring you to bite. Play with me. His shadows seem to croon, tracing letters in your skin too gentle for you to decipher but the heated stare greedily feasting on your reactions is a big enough clue. “Can you not feel it in how I touch you? How I handle you?” The cool pressure creeps past the silk of your shorts, fleeting touches grazing spots that needed more before they dart off to the next. “Is it not clear when I look at you?”

“Azriel—“ It comes out breathless, bones melting to nothing in the cushions of the couch. “The drawing.”

“Who’s stopping you, sweet thing?” The shadows do the work for him, raising the charcoal back in your grasp while the other extends out your sketchbook. “I’ll keep still while you finish.”

A double meaning in the best case.

No doubt, this was his payback for making him spill his load in your hand like some teenager still learning their bodies.

His shadows are relentless, memorizing every curve and branding their touch in their wake. Focusing is near impossible, hands shaky and breathing choppy when forcing yourself to relax; to continue drawing the tortuously beautiful body before you. Az smirks when you pause, throat bobbing with a swallow when you feel the cool caress graze your chest, teasing over peaked nipples. You can feel him following your every move, every drag of pencil to paper; a few of the lines are less than neat but you can’t find it in you to care when Azriel’s attention on you is so addictive. “Can you feel it now?”

“I’ve always felt it, Az.” There’s such vulnerability laced in your tone, eyes trained on your paper; copying the furrow of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the plush of his mouth. “Just need to hear you say it.”

There’s a brief pause; enough time to sign the page and neatly put your utensils away but instead of tearing the page free like usual, you shut the baby blue book and tie it tight. “I want you,” He confesses when you stand, your back is to him and the words come out so quiet you barely hear it. Your body stills and your soft inhale of breath is encouragement enough for him to keep going. “—as more than just friends.”

A slow glance over your shoulder, book still in your grasp and now you’re definitely sure he can hear your heartbeat—everyone in the whole damn city probably could. “Yeah?”

He nods, a smile creeping in the corner of full lips at the way you’re looking at him and Azriel shifts to make room when you move closer, hands and knees sinking into the mattress when you sit yourself on top of him. “I want to kiss you in front of people,” Warm palms dips under your shirt, strong hands gripping at your sides with the most perfect pressure when explores the shape of you. Az lets a pleased sound rumble in his chest at the way you fall into him, allowing him access to a body he’d laid claim to long before he’d ever even touched you. “And have a cheesy picture of your face hanging up behind me in my office.” A blush fans, soft laughter filling the room but inside your screaming; on top of the world with no plan on how to get down. “Just want you. Only you.”

His hands keep trailing higher, pausing at the curve of your breasts and his pupils go wide when you grind down on him, pulling the shirt clean off and throwing it somewhere behind you. “Then have me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi darling!

I love your work so much. I have a visceral need for some y/n x Vessel filth. I don’t even have a prompt, but I was hoping you could work your magic and help me out!

Paint the town white

a/n smut so you know kids back off. And once again ai blacked out writing this. Idk what it is about them that just sends me into another dimension. I hope you will enjoy and that this will help. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He was exhausted. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. The tour had been long and hard. And Vessel had been even harder on himself. He loved what he did. He breathed what he loved. It was all or nothing. It was perfection or beating yourself up in a bunk bed at two in the morning. Some shows pumped him up with adrenaline. Crowds that charged him. But some concerts drained Vessel to the depths of his bones. He tried to take blows like that on his own. But through years of dating him, the smallest parts of him spoke volumes to you. So after watching him mop for a week, you decided to bring some comfort over to him.

And that’s how you found yourself here in a random hotel room. Well, not random, in your boyfriend’s hotel room. In a city you had never visited before. The sound of a shower running - the only noise in the depths of the night. You slowly picked up around the room. It wasn’t big but your big man managed to make a mess of it in a day he was here. But that only showed you just how deep in his head Vessel was because he hated a messy environment.

“I feel like I ran a marathon”, the squeak of the door was followed by your lover's groggy voice. “With the way you jump around… I would say a half marathon”, you humbled him slightly, throwing a smile over your shoulder to him. A breath hitched in your throat as you turned to him fully though. It never failed to. After so many times of seeing him freshly out of the shower your brain still manages to short-circuit. “Still?”, Vessel mussed, “What?”, you quickly blinked up at him. “You like what you see?”, so it was his confident persona that was out to play tonight. Good, you thought to yourself, that meant that he wasn’t too far gone in the depths of his mind. You dropped the bag you were holding to the side. Slowly making your way towards him. “You missed a spot”, you muttered, reaching out to brush your fingers over his chest, letting your hand dip lower. “Is that so?”, his groggy voice set a shiver down your back. You locked eyes with him, biting your lips as you reached for the towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

“I don’t remember painting anything beneath my waist”, Vess mused, eyes growing darkened by the second. “Maybe you just forgot, but it’s okay”, you cooed, “I will make sure for you”. Your fingers made quick work of the towel, letting it pool at Vessel’s ankles. You reached for him without looking down, keeping eye contact strong as you wrapped your hand around his already hard cock. A deep growl slipped from the back of his throat. And you could tell that he was trying hard to not throw his head back or close his eyes.

“Told you, you missed a spot”, you muttered, glancing between you two at the glistening pre cum now dripping down the very tip. “I’ll get it for you”, sinking to your knees, you blinked up at him. “Darling…”, Vessel grunted out. But you wasted no time, making a show of spitting onto his throbbing erection. “You fucking minx”, he bucked his hips closer to you as your palm once again wrapped around him. “Let me just rub it a couple more times, to make sure it’s clean”, you mused, leaning in to take him into your mouth, the salty taste of him dancing on your tongue. “Ah, shit…”, Vessels fingers threaded through your hair. But since he didn’t make an effort to push your head any further down you reached out, finding his hand in your hair and giving it a firm nudge. That sent his throbbing cock right at the back of your throat, making you gag around him. “Fuck that mouth of yours”, Vessel whined, “So fucking…”,’ one of his hands reached for your neck, rubbing your throat, “Relax your jaw for me”, he ordered, stroking your neck as you stroked him moments ago, “Let me in, love, let me into your warmth”. You took a deep breath through your nose, bracing yourself against his hips. He withdrew slightly, pulling at your hair before shoving back in all the way, making your eyes water as you squirmed. But you let him. He needed this. You knew that. And you were willing to give it to him.

“Clean enough for you now, huuh?”, he grunted as he fucked your mouth. All you could do was blink in confirmation, letting the hum of your approval ripple around his throbbing dick. You could feel the tremor in his thighs slowly building. He was getting close. So you hallowed your cheeks even more. Vessel cursed between moans before pulling you back by your hair. The loud pop was followed by strings of drool as you whined from the lost fullness.

“On the bed”, he grunted. “Vessel”, you whined. “I said get on the bed, don’t test my patience, love”, his palm wrapped around your throat as he pulled you up, mindful of his actions still. Careful to not hurt you but firm enough for you to know he wasn’t messing around. You could feel your wetness pooling between your legs, rubbing against both of your thighs as you hurried to climb onto the plush white sheets.

Vessel watched like a predator assessing his prey. Slowly stroking his hand up and down his shaft. You quickly pulled your dress over your head, before spreading your legs out for him. Motioning with your finger for him to get closer. “Knees to your chest”, he ordered, “Dip your fingers through your fold, love”. You didn’t have to be told twice as you followed his orders. Bitting your lip as the ache between your legs only increased at the feeling of your fingers slowly spreading the arousal. You lifted your hand back up, rubbing your fingers together as you let your juices glisten in the dim room. Vessel grunted, capturing your wrist in his hand. His nostrils flared as he flexed his jaw. Slowly composing himself before leaning in to lick your fingers clean. The whimper that slipped past your lips was pathetically desperate as you watched him.

“Needy much?”, he mussed, looking into your dazed eyes. “For you?”, you mused, “Always”. Vessel hummed, crawling on top of you, kissing his way up your stomach, letting his tongue brush the swell of your breast before taking the aching peaks between his teeth. Your moans followed his path. You didn’t care how needy it made you. He was making you feel good and you weren’t gonna hide it. “Moan my name as I thrust inside”, he muttered against your ear, slowly rubbing his tip over your folds. “Fu… Ves…”, you threw your head back, nails sinking into his back as he nudged his way into you, stretching you out to your limits as he went. His lips found your shoulder as he nibbled and bit at your skin. “So good, love”, he praised, withdrawing his hips, “Relax”, nudging your legs up, he pushed them closer to your chest, “Let me into your warm heaven”, “Vessel”, you cried out as he thrust his hips harshly into you. “Let me paint those walls white”, he leaned in bitting at your lips, thrusting into you with the strength that made you see stars. You were convinced that you were screaming his name. Beginning even. But all you could hear was the headboard hitting the wall. And the way both of you sounded as he thrusted over and over again. His movements grew sloppier the closer he got to his high.

“I’m… so…”, you cried between thrusts, aimlessly reaching to brace yourself at any part of him. “Give it to me”, he mussed, “Clench around me and cum”, and just as if your body was in full control of him. Within a couple of thrusts, the string snapped. Making you rack your nails down his arms as you arched up from the mattress. Crying as the blissful warmth of him spread through your body. Vessel bit at your neck as ropes of his release painted you from within. Clearing the musky funk he had been in. It felt as if he could breathe in. As if his lungs finally gave way to more oxygen. But all he wanted to breathe in was you.

Lazily still thrusting into you, chasing his last highs, Vessel brushed his nose against your cheek before kissing away the slowly drying tears. “Thank you”, he whispered as you slowly turned to him. “For?”, you blinked at him. “Being here”, mindful of his weight he let his body drape over you, his warmth seeping into your skin. “I thought you were thanking me for making sure you had no paint on your skin”, a lazy smirk spread on your face as he snorted, “Especially for that”, he nodded, brushing his thumb over your chin, tilting your head up, “Even more so for knowing how to pull me back up”. You wrapped an arm around him, guiding his head to your chest, “Don’t be so cute moments after treating me like a slut”, you huffed, “You’ll give me whiplash”, you huffed, as you both chuckled. “My slut though”, Vessel pointed out, fingers gripping your hips for emphasis. “All yours, Vessy, always yours”.

[jmdbjk]

Mental gymnastics...

I am flipping out. That's all. Just my brain doing cartwheels and whatever those things are called where you flip between those high bars and let go for a breathless second and then grab onto reality again. Or this...

Too much Olympics these past few weeks I guess... anyway.

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT! I may or may not mention scenes in detail and their outcomes during these long rambling messy posts beginning with the next sentence.

Before I get into it... kudos to the staff for keeping up with these two and for suffering many extremely anxious moments as Jimin and Jungkook drove themselves through NYC, as Jungkook and then both Jimin and Jungkook rode the motorcycle through traffic, and the few heart stopping moments when JK flipped his kayak over and then they took off down the river alone before staff caught up with them. Not to mention probably looking up the nearest ER/urgent care facility in case Jimin got too dehydrated from his bout with the stomach bug.

Seriously though, their lives and global headlines had to flash before their eyes when JK disappeared underwater under that kayak... so big applause for the staff/production crew for not shitting THEIR pants thirteen times too.

So here are some of my thoughts. I'll begin with the first episode...

Episode 1:

In the opening scene, I'm assuming this is Antoya Korean BBQ restaurant. They were talking about JK's sore throat and that he had to visit a medical facility. Jimin kept on about it. It seemed like JK's "stop babying me" attitude bubbled up a little bit. Let them be them. As you can see, JK adjusted Jimin's beanie so he could see his eyes. They were fine.

Pause and reflect: they didn't know what to expect with this idea of a travel show. The moment above happened on Thursday evening, July 13. Both of them were working. Jimin was still working on his concepts, photos, MV and whatnot, planning to finish everything for Muse in the coming months. Jungkook had a full schedule for promoting Seven which was dropping the next day. He had to get up early for Good Morning America concert in the park.

I'm stating all this for point of reference. Nothing is static. JK was in work mode: he had a performance the next day and also not feeling well himself. Jimin had been on a plane for 14 hours. Just keep these things in mind before jumping to conclusions.

In the next scene (the next day) back at the hotel after JK's done with his performance and when he's packing to go on this trip he's all in and ready to go. Hurry up Jimin!

Jimin asked him how the live performance went. As we know, the GMA live performance was mostly rained out. Before the storm came through, they quickly pre-recorded the performances before it would have been time for the live broadcast and then shut it down. Jungkook had to be driven quickly to the studio to be interviewed to fill the leftover time in the program that more of his live performance would have taken up.

Hearing Jungkook say "this isn't my first rodeo" was never going to be on any bingo card in my lifetime.

I don't know what he was scribbling on that iPad but it looked geometric. He was focused. Maybe it was something for the next week's performance, maybe it was a sketch for music show staging, trying to recreate that flower archway they saw at Antoya the night before? maybe he was doodling in Canva... we don't know.

Me either, Jimin... (this was the first of all the hilarious gems that begin to shower down on us).

They are both known to be perfectionists when it comes to their work. And we know they've also both performed when feeling less than 100% on that stage. Jungkook realized there were circumstances beyond his control and he took it in stride.

FYI, in New York City, they stayed at the Loews Regency on E. 61st Street in Manhattan. It is between Madison Ave. and Park Avenue and not far from Central Park. Swanky. The suite looks like the 2-bedroom "Park Avenue Suite" and runs $2100 a night... gasp. Yes, its the same suite where JK did his live after his rained upon GMA appearance. During this live he mentioned being poked with needles, IV's and shots in the butt as well as teasing us with what would become Are You Sure:

No, I don't think Jimin stayed in this suite with JK. Jimin's room had a smaller bathroom and a shower curtain instead of a glass shower door. Staff with camera woke him up.

To be that beautiful when rolling out of bed... anyway, I digress...

It truly was unplanned and spontaneous as if they were doing this with the idea of "let's try it and see if it can be viable." Even Jimin wasn't sure if any of this could be aired.

Once they got in the Jeep they started to find their groove. Being alone, just them, was what they needed. They could focus on what was ahead of them. The driving moments were some of the best for me.

We eventually learn that Jimin wasn't feeling well and I'm certain this is what Jungkook was telling Yoongi during that episode of Suchwita, along with the elbowing in the nose.

Seems like Jimin's stomach trouble started when they were at the first restaurant, the burger place. The bathroom visits continued at the brewery and into the evening at the campsite.

Jimin had some sort of stomach bug that kept him on the toilet a lot and he ran a little bit of a temp. I am sad that he wasn't feeling 100% when they were on the yacht the next day but he still seemed to enjoy it enough to find the humor in his situation. He was a real trooper.

It sure didn't stop him from eating. My man was very brave in that regard. Me... no way I'd be stuffing my face with a big greasy burger when at any moment I might need to make a run for the toilet.

They get back on the road and these are the moments that I wait for:

After arguing in satoori about who is the worst driver between them, they start shopping at Dick's.

And get recognized...

After shopping excursion at Dick's, they finally head to High Nine Brewery...

Jimin's first sample wasn't to his taste (again). His taste buds were probably a little off since he had the stomach thing going on... but JK's eyebrows say that his sample was pretty good.

They finally settle on a hard seltzer and a pale ale and relax for a little bit. Jungkook is still wondering what would make good subject matter to film. They are truly making it up as they go...

Jimin proceeds to explain and an interaction happens and I am not sure what to think about it:

I am going to end this post here because they are now on their way to the kayaks and that segment deserves its own post and I have too many screen shots of it to fit in this post.

[These are all my own opinions about what I am seeing and hearing them say and from what I am observing from the video. It's ok if your opinion is different from mine.]

[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART FIVE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.4k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.

You forgot to ask his name. Again. You let him leave the shop and you didn't ask his name.

You rolled in your bed, holding your pillow on your chest, feeling all foolish. When did he start getting to you so much? Probably the beginning. This idiot’s mysterious act got you good, you thought.

Finding sleep had become a difficult task. Your mind was plagued with warm thoughts of him, while your body was desperately cold from the lack of functioning heating. Especially as the weather reporters announced this winter as one of the coldest in the decade.

The news was pretty depressing, with one sordid headline after another. You stopped reading the articles in detail. It was killing your spirits, and frankly you didn't need that. People were out on the streets, demonstrations increasingly frequent and violent. The whole atmosphere of the city had changed for the worst.

Your teeth chattered a little as you turned in your heavy blanket, a bottle filled with hot water resting to your feet.

Your eyelids finally grew heavy as a familiar silhouette filled your mind. That had become a regular thing as you fell asleep, his face haunting you. You didn't even fight it anymore, letting the memory of his voice echo in your mind and lull you to sleep. 

The night had been restless, filled with honking, police sirens, the distant screams and chants of protesters. You wondered if he went to that kind of event. Probably. The thought twisted your stomach—not just because it was dangerous, but because you didn’t want to imagine him as part of the chaos you tried so hard to shut out.

When morning light seeped through your curtains, you were reluctantly pulled out of Morpheus’ arms. You had to face a new day, and you really didn't want to, feeling the exhaustion adding up. It was a bit early — not early enough that you’d have time to fall asleep, but enough that you had extra time. After getting your breakfast of choice, you reached for your sketchbook.

At first, you didn’t notice anything unusual—just your own messy sketches of his face. Then you saw it: unfamiliar handwriting scrawled next to the portraits, on yellow sticky notes, careful not to ruin any of your pages. Your breath caught as you read the first line. ‘Basically forgot me, huh?’ Your eyes widened as you stared at the sloppy ink.

‘looks like the only thing you forgot is the shape of my nose’ You could hear the smugness in his voice just reading this. 

This handwriting was messy but legible, he mixed uppercase and lowercase letters inconsistently. 

Next to the pressed flowers, another note, reading ‘you kept them’,  and at the end of the couple of pages filled with his portraits, he added, ‘flattered to be your muse.’

You felt the embarrassment grow in your stomach, bearing its ugly head. You didn’t know what scared you more—that he’d never show up again, or that he would.

It was signed with his name. You swallowed as you read it. Hobie. You repeated it to the walls of your home, tasting his name on your tongue, letting it twirl in your mouth like a wine connoisseur. 

You couldn't figure out the taste. And before you knew it, you had to leave and go to work. 

There was quite a mess in the street leading to the flower shop. Ashes from stuff burning during the night, trash all over, bins laying on the ground, glass scattered from broken front windows and the smell of sulfur in the air. 

It filled you with growing unease, your guts twisting as you reached the shop. It seemed that this stretch of street had been spared the wrath of the protestors. You sighed as you unlocked the door, the sound of your keys melting into that of the bell above the door.

You did the bare minimum, only switching the water before going to sit behind the counter, not feeling like doing anything of substance.

Soon, Hobie came in. Much earlier than any other time, which was weird. You didn’t expect him. He gave you a familiar wave and none of you mentioned the sketchbook book. 

He looked like he had gone through a war or something, his eye bags somehow even deeper, the hollow of his cheeks more defined. He gave you a smile, making your stomach do the familiar flip of… intimidation, yeah, that’s the word. Definitely intimidated by that gentle smile and mug.

You wondered if he’d been out there last night, caught in the chaos. Maybe that’s where the exhaustion came from.

He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall. He had curled up in the corner beside you, hidden from view. You looked down at him from the height of your stool. It gave you a new point of you, you never saw him from this angle. 

“Comfortable?” You finally broke the silence.

“Very much.”

You had no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t ask. You think that’s why he kept coming back. Ever since the funeral incident, you learned not to be too curious. He’d talk if he wanted to.

At this point, you assumed this had become his resting place, warm and cosy. You wondered if he had that comfort elsewhere.

“Want some tea?” You offered.

“...Yeah, I'll have a cuppa.”

You stood up and headed for the back of the store, turning on the light. You almost sneezed at the amount of dust. Yep, this needed cleaning too. 

You plugged the kettle in and let the tea infuse. You grabbed two porcelain cups from Rose, the delicate gold lining and flower paintings fitting the shop’s atmosphere. All of it was such an old lady thing.

You came and handed him one. He nodded and you two drank in silence.

The tea was comforting, for sure, its aroma spilling in the air and meddling with the sweet scent of flowers. It was hot on your tongue and warm against the palms of your hands, which was always welcomed in that climate.

You glanced at his form on the ground. He looked quite funny, all punk and scary, holding the small, delicate porcelain. It looked like a little girl’s toy in his large, scarred hands.

You weren’t sure whether it was the cuppa or his presence that gave you energy, but you eventually started to take care of some potted plants, tending to the soil.

You heard him follow behind at some point, watching you do some work as if it was a common form of entertainment. 

“You’ve got a bit of dirt on your cheek.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You wiped it off with the back of your hand.

“Wait, no! Don't take it off. Adds character.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?..”

“You look like you've been in a flower fight. It’s very avant-garde.” He grinned down at you.

“...” You glared up. “I’m going to ignore that because you look like you’ve been in an actual fight.”

He just laughed at that.

Soon though, you were both back behind the counter, as he took that warm spot in the corner. He looked quite relaxed, like he could doze off anytime.

You took care of the occasional customer, and Hobie kept it quiet this time. You were still a little mad at how good his last suggestion was, and a little more afraid of just how good he was at slipping into your life.

As the evening crept in, the cloudy sky darkened a little. You watched the last customer leave, happy as can be, holding a big bouquet of roses. You were a little envious of those people with places to be and company waiting for them.

You looked at the clock. Time to close. You expected him to stand and stretch like he had somewhere to be, but he didn’t move. You stood and turned around the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. You also turned off the warm lights, letting the last bits of sunlight peak through the cloud to shine yellow rectangles on the old waxed floor. 

“You’re still here,” you said softly, barely a question.

He tilted his head, the corner of his lip lifting up in that familiar smirk. “Guess I am.” 

There was something in his tone, neither apologetic or teasing, instead weirdly honest. He didn’t seem in a rush to go, and for once, you didn’t feel the urge to make him.

You dragged yourself back across the shop and eyed him in his cosy corner. You plopped down next to him, tucking your knees under your chin. He didn’t say anything, nor did he tease you for your choice of seating. You didn’t notice he moved until you felt the comfortably heavy weight of his arms around your shoulders. He smelled of old leather, sweat and pine. 

Without thinking, you leaned into him. Wordless, the moment stretched. You didn't feel the need to question anything.

You could get used to this.

Part six.

[pedrospookie]

hello, my dearest 💛

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

Howdy howdy!

Thank you for sending in this ask 🤭 I love me some Jack Daniels— my favourite cowboy! I was inspired by Elton John this week and caught myself listening to I guess that’s why they call it the blues while writing this. I’ll be curious to know if you can spot the songs influence! This is my first crack at writing in over half a decade, so I feel a little rusty… but i think it’s cute!

I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues — Jack Daniels x f!reader (fluff/angst)

wc: 2.1k | mild swearing, intimacy is hinted at, nothing wild for my first crack back

A smoky, twangy voice and the strum of a guitar murmurs through Jack’s bronco, filling the comfortable silence between you. His thick hand wrapped delicately around your thigh, claiming what is his as you parade through the open roads, the sweet smell of honeysuckle filling your lungs with every gust of the evening breeze. The bluebells were in full bloom this time of year, glowing almost a pale shade of purple under the lazy setting sun. These quiet moments with Jack had grown to be some of your most cherished moments together, life often getting in the way of the simple life you shared.

You knew Jack as the wholesome country boy from down the way, a man who straps on his boots and Stetson every morning, who appreciates the taste of an ice cold sweet tea on a scorching hot day and who could tame a horse quicker than a cat on a hot tin roof. The soft, kind boy with the crooked smile and whiskey coloured eyes, who wants to do things right, the boy who would go to the end of the world and back for you. To you, he was just Jack— a simple boy from Kentucky, not Agent Whiskey, not an international spy or trained assassin, just a boy who fell in love with a girl.

Yet, somehow your quiet, simple life together was being interrupted once again. In less than 20 hours, with a kiss and a pinky promise to comeback to his sweet girl, he would be off.

Jack would disappear and Agent Whiskey would be somewhere halfway across the world, undisclosed and unreachable. It made Jack sick to leave you. He knew the toll it took on you and your relationship. It broke his heart to go, every time he stepped out that door he cursed himself for it. He knew how his career haunted you, yet you never complained. You only had one simple ask, that he had to come home. Jack felt resentful towards the countdown running in his mind, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to cherish this time with you, his girl. His sun, moon and stars. Together under the canopy of the setting sun, nestled on the leather seats of his Bronco, Jack was desperate to get you home, where the sleepy ranch awaits, and tangle himself into you.

“Darlin’, can you promise me one thing?” Jack’s rough voice breaks through the silence, pulling your attention to him.

“What’s that, dear?” You smile, placing your hand on top of his, both resting them on your thigh. Jack lowers his sunglasses with his free hand, looking at you sincerely. The look in his eye sent butterflies bursting through your tummy, it was so charming and sincere. Your sweet boy.

“That when I’m back, you’ll take the day off so we can spend the mornin’ together again? Like that one time?” His chocolatey, brown eyes beg, voice so soft that it is nearly a whisper. The sound of his request tugging on your heart strings. How could you deny him that?

That morning had been perfect.

After several long, agonizing, worrisome weeks apart, Jack had finally made his return, embracing you the moment he entered the door and refusing to let go until the next morning.

You woke in a messy tangle of limbs and bedsheets, the sun shining through and glittering it’s rays across Jack’s soft brown hair that was sticking up every which way, coaxing a small laugh from your lips. Your soft laughter stirred the cowboy awake, his grip on your increasing until he had you nestled under him, burying you with affection. I have a lot of catching up to do, he murmured gently along your neck, pressing open mouth kisses down your pulse points. Once he had had his fill, he was overcome with hunger. I’m a lucky man, he chuckled, getting my dessert before breakfast, the words tumbled from his plush lips as he flipped eggs in a fry pan. The record player was crooning along to an old Hank Williams album as you watched your darling cowboy make his way across the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder as he focused on making the perfect sunny side up egg for his sunshine. He was just an old sweet soul taking care of his girl, pure domestic bliss. A sigh found it’s way across your lips as you admired the man in front of you. It felt so right to have him back, to have him home with you. Your sigh caught his attention, a smug look crossing his face as he approaches you at the kitchen table, spatula still in hand. Can I have this dance? He asked in a tone as sweet as sugar, quirking an eyebrow in anticipation. Jack would give anything or find any excuse to have you in his arms. How could he not? You looked extra beautiful, seated at his table, wearing his shirt and the warm morning sun cascading over you, making you glow. Maybe she was an angel after all, he thought to himself as he pulled you into his chest, his large hand pressing into your lower back, beginning to sway along to Hank’s melancholic voice. Jack had no idea how he managed to snag a woman like you, but he counted his lucky stars for it. He would lasso the moon for you, if you asked. Jack inhaled deeply, catching the sweet scent of your shampoo and the lingering remnants of your perfume. It was good to be home.

Your moment of bliss was rudely interrupted by the blaring sound of the fire alarm, smoke starting to waft through the kitchen, stirring a panic between the two of you. Fuck! The eggs! Jack yelped, reaching for the window above the sink and promptly flinging the burnt scraps from the fry pan out the window.

“I’m pretty sure I still owe you a dance.” Jack chuckles, thinking back to that morning, the sound of your laugh tugging on his heart strings. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road, the short peeks weren’t enough for Jack. He wanted to see the way you crinkle your nose when you giggle like that.

“And a new fry pan.” You shoot back with a cheeky grin. Jack could only shake his head at you before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, steadying his gaze on the road ahead. I’ll get you something even better than a fry pan, Jack smirks to himself as he admires your small hand in his, thinking about the twinkling secret tucked at the back of his night stand.

“And a new fry pan.” He rolls his eyes playfully, “But I will be cashin’ in on that dance once I’m home, gorgeous. I’m gonna wine ‘n dine ya ‘til the cows come home.”

“We’ll see about that, cowboy. Do you remember the last time you promised to take me out to the city?” You snicker, watching his mouth fly open and his moustache framing his surprise, completely aghast.

It was a day hotter than hell itself.

The tall grass moped, praying for a break from the beating sun, crunching under each foot step as Jack led you towards the barn. One last chore, he had promised with a wink, needing to put out some extra water for his horses before taking you into town.

The hose groaned awake as Jack twisted the squeaky spout, the sound of flowing water starting to rush through the rubber. Anticipating a splash, you held out the rusted bucket waiting for water to hit. However, your pail remained as dry as the desert. A look of confusion crossed your face, lacing your brows together, matching the similar look on Jack’s face, until he spots the reason for this drought. His rough, calloused hands pick the old hose up and twist it, relieving the rubber of the kink in its form and releasing the pent up water from within it, dousing you in the process. The shot of cold water shocked your system, spraying your face and chest, the bucket in your hands doing a piss poor job of catching any of it. Jack was beside himself, eyes as wide as saucers, moustache twitching as he mutters apology after apology. Sugar, I am SO sorr—He is interrupted by a loud splash, water hitting him square in the chest, his white shirt sticking to his bronze chest as a roar erupts from you cutting the tension in the air. His worried eyes relax as he chuckles along with you. Oh, now you’re on, missy, he warns, picking the plastic hose back up and chasing you through the old barn.

“Well darlin’, I don’t remember you complaining about that,” Jack murmurs smugly, “something ‘bout how I’d win a wet t-shirt contest?” He flashes you an award winning smile, his moustache curling ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth, this gorgeous smile sparking a warmth across your face and chest.

“Alright, alright. Easy does it, cowboy.” You chuckle, refusing to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing that he’s right. You were going to miss his playful banter and southern charm. The weeks away were always hard, even when you tried to fill them with hobbies and your friends.

“You know I’d keep you under the covers all day if I could, sugar.” Jack croons with a twinkle in his eye, placing a delicate kiss to each of your fingers before reaching the back of your hand. He could feel the mood shift, dancing away from lighthearted teasing to something deeper. He caught the sad look in your eye, feeling guilt wash over him. He looked back at the road ahead of him once more, before turning back to look at you.

“More than just the covers, pretty girl, I need you every day.”

He could feel it in his heart of hearts, that burning desire to be home, that it was time for him to hang up his lasso. Jack was ready to be wholeheartedly present with you, that it was time that could be better spent with you. Making memories together, building your life together, making babies together. His life as Agent Whiskey was one that had come and passed, exciting and cathartic at first, but it had sucked his soul dry. He was tired — exhausted — and ready to be home, to spend his days on his quiet farm, dedicating every waking moment to you. Jack would get that dance, and at then end of the night he would share that twinkling secret with you in hopes that you will say yes. This was promise to you; that you would finally start living the life that he promised to give you.

His grip on your thigh tightens, giving you a little love squeeze bringing you both back into the present. The sun now peeking lower on the horizon.

“I’m going to miss you.” You murmur, tears slowly filling your eyes as you fight the growing lump in your throat. You keep your eyes on the road, counting the stop signs to distract yourself. 3 more until you’re home.

The sound of your breaking voice tugged on Jack’s heart strings. It killed him to see you this way, to know that it was because of him, that he caused this pain and sadness.

“I know, darlin’. I’ll be missin’ you every moment of every day.” He smiles weakly, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand, refusing to let it go. “It won’t be long before I’m home, it won’t be forever. There’s never a moment where I ain’t thinkin’ of you, of your beautiful eyes, that gorgeous smile…” his voice drifts off for a moment, until he sighs. “I’ll be countin’ down the hours til I’m back here with you, baby.”

While he’s putting on a brave face, his eyes give way to every emotion he is feeling, a mistiness creeping across those big brown puppy dog eyes.

“Please come back home to me, Jack,” You beg, squeezing his hand to emphasize how serious you were.

“I always do, baby. Pinky promise.”

tag list: @josephquinnswhore @iamasaddie

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 1: (Caramel Apple) Vincent Sinclair

Welcomer everyone to day 1! There's not much to say that I haven't already so I hope you all enjoy day 1 as well as the other fics I have prepared for this month! <3 Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence if any. Vincent used sign language in this, the sign language will be in Italics. Support me: KO-FI

The half rotted door to Vincent's basement workshop groaned out a long winded squeak when you pushed it open. You grabbed it before it could slam against the wall at the top of the stairs. It was about 2am and you could never be to sure if Vincent had fallen asleep down in the workshop or not.

You stepped on each stair one at a time. You had been down to the basement so many times in the middle of the night you had the spots that creaked memorized and you knew how to meticulously step around them or at least cause the least noise. You counted each stair in your head until you reach the bottom step, you peered around the dimly lit workshop before your eyes landed on your target.

"Vince"

A soft, near whisper cut through the silence. A white masked face shot up from where he was sitting. His shoulders untensed and he quickly rose from his seat, wax project quickly forgotten on the table in front of him as he made his way over to where you were standing.

"I came to get you, It's like 2:30 in the morning Vin."

Vincent froze for a split second, his eyes darting to the usually wrong digital clock he kept by his work space. Years prior Vincent didn't care when he finished work, most nights sleeping in his workshop for lack of having any real reason to go back to the house. It all changed when you fell into his lap, his muse, his reason.

"Sorry, Clock never works right, meant to come home hours ago."

One of the greatest things about you, Vincent had decided, was that you had taught him sign language. When the two of you had first met Vincent hated not having a way to communicate besides writing messy, barley legible scribbles on a piece of paper. Though to be fair you didn't want to talk much to the man who was once your captor when you had first ventured into Ambrose all those years ago.

Bo had sworn to him you were only getting close to try and escape. Bo had yelled, screamed and bitched about how much time Vincent was spending with you, how every time Vincent would let you out, or go to see you that he was putting Ambrose at risk.

Vincent didn't really care though, having grown up with it his entire life he was used to Bo's incessant yelling about nothing of any real substance. Eventually and very, very begrudgingly, Bo relented and you were integrated into daily life in Ambrose.

"Vince?"

Vincent jolted, realizing his mind had wandered. He signed you an apology and then motioned for your hand.

"Wow your actually listening and coming to bed? I'm honored Vince"

Vincent rolled his eyes, and you could tell his face under his mask held something akin to a "Really?" expression. You drag him along by his hand, leading him up the stairs and out of the wax museum into the cold Louisiana night.

"I saved you a plate of dinner I can heat up when we get to the house"

"You don't have to do that"

"Why wouldn't I? You haven't eaten like all day"

"I've eaten"

"A granola bar that was probably expired from the gas station doesn't count"

Vincent shrugged again, He had a terrible habit of taking care of not taking care of himself and he knew you knew as well as he did. You shot him a smile and weaved your fingers together as the two of you walked home. Vincent pulled his hand away to sign something quickly.

"You're such a mother hen"

"If wanting you to be taken care of makes me a mother hen, then a mother hand I shall be"

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Vincent slotted his hand back into yours and walked the rest of the way home. He knew you'd heat up his dinner plate, tsk at him for not eating and tell him to start taking better care of himself. He knew that he would nod but wouldn't listen and he knew that you knew he would do exactly that but at the end of the day you would never really mind.

Vincent liked being taking care of, you knew he liked being taken care of. If he wanted to call you a mother hen, then a mother hen you would be.

[starsneverdiewritings]

Versace On The Floor - A Hwang Hyunjin Fanfic

✪ Genre: Fluff, Smut, Vampire AU ✪ Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Reader is Female ✪ Characters: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids), Original Female Character, First-person POV ✪ Word Count: 6.9k

“I thought I was a fool for no one, oh baby, I'm a fool for you” - Supermassive Black Hole, Muse

It starts with a gift. It ends with a secret. Hyunjin reveals himself to you at the annual party at your mansion. What you learn will shock you, in the best way.

A present. That’s all it was. A gift from your secret admirer. Who was this? You had no clue. It could be any of your close friends and while you had a hunch about where the random and, well, expensive gifts were from, you didn’t have any concrete evidence on who was buying you these things.

It started when a replacement bottle of your Gucci perfume showed up on your vanity conveniently just as you were about to run out of your original bottle. It’s not like you couldn’t buy another one, but finding it there was so… odd. You had asked all of your friends if they had left a bottle at your place, but each responded that they didn’t wear that scent or brand. Then, it was a pair of earrings you had been eyeing for a few weeks online. Instead of pulling the trigger on the Louis Vuitton website and just ordering them, you had been going back and forth about whether you really needed another pair. After a week of debating, you woke up to them on your bedside table. While it had scared you that someone had been in your room while you were sleeping, you ultimately figured that it had to be one of your male friends. They all came and went as they pleased, the house big enough, and lonely enough, that you welcomed their company. Some days you would wake up and walk down the hallway towards the smell of breakfast being made. On other days, you would find one (or three) of them sprawled out on the couch sleeping off a hangover.

Today’s gift was by far your favorite. You walked into your room from your shower to find a light blue evening gown hanging from the display section of your wardrobe, the black dress you had already laid out returned to its original spot in your closet. The note under it read ‘Wear Me’ in a messy script. You silently cursed the fact that you had, one, never seen any of your male friends’ handwriting, and, two, couldn’t get a lead on who the hell was leaving you these gifts. At any rate, you were never one to let a good dress go to waste. You ran the material between your fingers, inspecting the dress carefully. That’s when you noticed it. There, holding the strap on the right shoulder together was a silver emblem. You stepped closer, your mouth dropping in surprise when you recognized the design.

Who the fuck bought you a Versace dress?

Your mind spiraled. It wasn’t like you didn’t have nice dresses, but this, this was too much. You had to find out who was leaving you these gifts. The party tonight would be an opportunity to grill every male friend you had. You sat down at your vanity and planned out how you were going to get to the bottom of this. The party was a tradition, something you had grown up knowing. The family estate hosted it annually and people from all across the world would come. When you were seven, you met a girl at the party. Her name was Leena and she told you she was from Russia. You spent all night with her, but in the morning she was gone. You remembered crying to your mother about missing your friend and your mother explaining to you that she had to go home. Now that you had grown, you didn’t make new friends at the party despite all of the attendees being your age. When you were about sixteen, you started to notice that anyone over twenty-five stopped coming to the party and there was no one younger than you there. When you asked one of the staff about it, they gave you a small smile and said that everyone else was busy. Not questioning the circumstances anymore, you threw yourself into the party every year since then, getting effectively wasted with your group of male friends while everyone else looked on in disgust. A week after the party when you were seventeen, some of your female friends mentioned that the way you acted was “not lady-like” and that they “had been raised to present themselves correctly”. You couldn’t have given less of a shit and you told them so. Just because it was a fancy party with a bunch of rich men meant you couldn’t enjoy yourself? Fuck that. Since then, your female friendships had turned into seeing each other once a year. A week after the party when you were eighteen, your parents bought a château in the south of France and left you at the estate. You weren’t upset. You were overjoyed to have your friends over all the time and do whatever you wanted; it’s not like you couldn’t afford to do anything you wanted to do anyway. That was two years ago and now, being twenty, you were jittery with excitement about the party.

Last year, there were a few questions from staff about how you wanted the party run, but being left in charge with no guidance or plan, you instructed them to do what they had done the previous year. Some glances of confusion were thrown your way, but you shrugged them off just wanting there to be enough alcohol at the party for you and your friends. This year, however, you had made a plan and sat down with all of the staff members weeks ahead of the party. You had a list of requests and items you wanted for the party to run smoothly. At the end of the meeting, the staff seemed more comfortable and relaxed about how things would go, seemingly used to more outrageous requests than a simple “just reuse what we had last year”. This year would be a party that would be talked about for ages, you just knew it.

Finishing your makeup, a knock came from your door.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened revealing a staff member, Analise, poking her head into the room.

“They are almost ready for you.”

You smiled at her.

“Thank you, I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and closed the door.

Standing, you made your way back to the wardrobe. Taking the dress off of the hanger, you stepped into it and slid it on. It hugged your hips perfectly. Everything from the sizing to the straps was perfect; the color complimenting your complexion, the fabric silky smooth against your skin, the bunching of material on the side draped perfectly, and a slit cut up your right thigh. Looking into the mirror, you smiled, satisfied with your outfit. You left your room, your silver heels clicking on the marble of the hallway. You made your way to the balcony overlooking the sprawling estate lined with gravel pathways, illuminated statues, and grandiose fountains. Various guests wandered about, but they all came to a halt the moment you appeared. You took a deep breath.

“Thank you for coming, everyone. We hope you have an amazing night. Enjoy!”

The crowd erupted in applause. You smiled, knowing that it didn’t matter what you said because they would clap anyway. You could have told them all to go fuck themselves and they would have cheered, already too stoned or tipsy to process what you were saying. You left the balcony and made your way down to the ballroom. You walked past people mingling, knowing that the calm vibe that was present wouldn’t last. The longer the party went on, the more rowdy everyone got. Due to this, you had instructed staff to keep only the ballroom open to guests; everything else in the house was closed. You walked out of the large double doors through the courtyard to the grounds. The place was packed, people sat in the grass talking and drinking, chased each other between statues, and stood next to the fountains. It wasn’t long before someone would be in one. You approached one of the open bars and ordered a drink.

“Wow, starting off strong this year, are we?”

A voice close to your ear spoke.

You whipped around to find Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin dressed in matching black suits. Chan, the owner of the voice that had almost given you a heart attack, smiled wide. He held a glass of honey-colored liquid. To his left, Changbin stared down the neck of his beer bottle. Lastly, Hyunjin was looking everywhere but you, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes towards the night sky. It wasn’t a quiet fact between you and Chan that you had a raging, uncontrollable crush on Hyunjin. The three of them had become your best friends over the past couple of years. Since your parents left, you sought solace and comfort in others, hating being alone in the large house. You and Chan, however, had grown closest, telling each other everything. The three of them were also the usual suspects when it came to getting the party rowdy, Chan acting as the ringleader as he threw back shot after shot.

“I figured if I’m going to catch up to where you are, I’ll have to start on the right foot.”

Chan smiled.

“Well, let’s get going then, yeah?”

You turned toward the bar, collecting your drink from the bartender.

“Let’s.”

You responded as you raised the glass towards him.

About an hour later, you were decently buzzed and not planning on stopping any time soon. As you suspected, people had gotten more comfortable and, therefore, more drunk. You figured in about an hour from now, Chan would be tossing Changbin in a fountain while Hyunjin scoffed. The instance was synonymous with the party at this point, tradition. The four of you had found your way back to one of the open bars, Chan ordering everyone multiple rounds of shots. Then, Hyunjin suggested getting away from the crowds so you found yourself walking next to him on a gravel path, Chan and Changbin stumbling behind the two of you while playfully shoving each other. The night air wrapped around your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver. Hyunjin noticed and paused to take off his suit jacket, revealing a black silk dress shirt tucked into his slacks accentuating his waist.

“What are you…”

“Just take it.”

He pulled the jacket around your shoulders.

“Thanks.”

You continued walking, following the path and beginning to loop back towards the party. For the next few seconds, it was silent aside from the muffled chatter of party guests and the music from the ballroom that filtered out of the doors and reached your ears. Then, a voice to your left, barely above a whisper cut through the night.

“Medusa ‘95. Looks good on you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, not being able to process what he was talking about. Then you realized it. The dress.

“How did you-”

Hyunjin smirked. Your eyes widened. Your mind sobered as the realization hit you like a truck.

“You!”

Chan and Changbin had caught up with you and began to snicker behind you.

“It was you! Hwang Hyunjin, have you been leaving me all these expensive gifts?”

“Who else did you think it was?”

A slight smirk spread across his face. You raised your arm, and suddenly, Chan was at your side, holding your wrist.

“Now, now, let’s not beat poor, lovesick Hyunjin over here to death.”

Just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any more surprising, the word ‘lovesick’ registered in your brain.

“What- lovesick?”

You looked between the three of them, Chan and Changbin trying to suppress smiles while a violent blush spread from the tips of Hyunjin’s ears down his neck.

“Just forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He turned towards the house and began to walk away.

“Hyunjin, wait!”

You called after him. You turned to Chan and Changbin.

“Nice guys. Thanks, for that.”

Their faces dropped.

“Wait, we didn’t mean-”

“Save it.”

You turned away from them and chased after Hyunjin. You could see him in front of you, the blonde not slowing his pace. You called after him again.

“Hyunjin, come back! Hyunjin! Hwang Hyunjin stop walking away from me!”

That got his attention. He paused, not turning towards you but not walking further away either. After struggling to walk fast on the gravel in your heels, you came up to him and spun to stand in front of him with your back to the house.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought you all that stuff. I was just-”

“Hyunjin.”

You cut him off. He fell silent, his eyes once again anywhere but you.

“Don’t apologize, I love the gifts. I’m just curious about how you, one, knew what to get me, and, two, got them into my room.”

His eyes flicked to yours and held them there.

“Magic.”

You scoffed playfully.

“Mmm, okay. Whatever you say, Mr. Magician.”

Hyunjin turned his head, noticing that Chan and Changbin had started walking towards you again even though they were quite a ways away.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter?”

He asked, his head still turned.

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry at the thought of being alone with Hyunjin.

“Ye- yeah. Sure, whatever you want.”

He turned back to you, extending his arm for you to hold. Under the fabric of his shirt, his skin was noticeably cool. You chalked it up to the night air and his lack of a jacket. He led you up the gravel path, back to the courtyard, around the fountain in the middle, and out the gate to the back of the house. He was silent as you walked arm-in-arm. Your senses were heightened, something inside of you screaming ‘DANGER!’. You pushed the thought away, knowing Hyunjin would be the last person to put you in danger. The path you took around the side to the back of the house was dimly lit, the only light guiding your way leaking out of the ballroom windows. Hyunjin, however, acted as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. You could see his dark eyes scanning the shadows, seeing things you couldn’t. Suddenly, he paused. You tore your eyes away from his face to the metal gates in front of you.

‘Why did he come here?’

Hyunjin took a deep breath and walked forward. Your arms unlinked, leaving you standing in front of the gates while he pushed one open.

“Coming?”

You blinked and nodded.

Following him in, you pulled his jacket tighter around your shoulders. Moonlight illuminated the graveyard and Hyunjin’s skin shone. You stood at the entrance and watched as he walked deeper into the graveyard, his head hung low and fingertips brushing the top of each headstone he passed. He paused in the middle and turned back towards you. The graveyard was small with high block walls covered in ivy surrounding it, but it looked so different here in the dark. It looked bigger, scarier.

“Hey. Come here.”

Hyunjin spoke, his low tone sending shivers down your back. If anyone else had been with you or you had been closer to the party, you wouldn’t have heard him. Now, though, you walk towards him with your eyes locked on his. Once close enough, he reached out, arms circled your waist and pulled your body flush with his. Your breath caught in your throat and your hands held his shoulders, stabilizing yourself. He looked deep into your eyes, searching for something.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d be here with you.”

You blinked. What the hell?

“What do you mean?”

He scoffed.

“Oh, come on. After playing hard to get for so long? Now I’m the one who can finally have you.”

Your mind spun. What the fuck was he talking about?

He noticed the confused look on your face and pulled back a bit. He didn’t completely detach from where his hands were around your waist, but he put space between the two of you. You suddenly wished he didn’t.

“Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

You shook your head and he sighed.

“Do you even know why we do this every year?”

Another shake ‘no’ elicited another sigh.

“Well, then I guess I have to be the one to tell you. Shit, okay, umm… You know what? We should sit, come on.”

You felt so lost. What did he have to tell you? Why did he think you needed to sit down? You had always thought of the party as just a time to fuck around with your friends. Now, you were wondering what the real reason was. He led you to a bench against one of the walls and gestured for you to sit down. He stayed standing, beginning to pace in front of you. After a few minutes of him wringing his hands and pacing back and forth, you got fed up.

“Hyunjin, will you just spit it out already?”

He paused in front of you and exhaled.

“Okay. Uh, okay. So, you know we have this party every year, right?”

You nodded.

“Great. Your family has been notorious for having daughters, so about three hundred years ago the first party was advertised as ‘bring your sons to marry our daughter and be welcomed into our rich family’. Some people heard that and ran with it. Poor people came from all over in search of riches while another group of people came looking for protection. The first daughter chose a duke after a couple of years of having the annual party. When she took over the estate, she decided to just keep the parties going. She was hoping other people would be able to find love at one of the parties like she had. The people who had come to the first party looking for protection kept coming back. After years of being outsiders in society, these parties helped integrate them back. Anyways, ever since your parents brought you to that first party, these people have been trying to get you to fall in love with them. Think about it, how many people have come up to you at these pastries trying to make a move on you?”

You thought about it. There had been a lot of people, guys specifically, who had come up and tried to charm you. You, however, were so wasted at every party recently that you couldn’t recall any of their faces or what they had said. All you could remember was being irritated that someone was in between you and the next round of shots.

“I guess guys have come up to me, but I never really paid attention.”

Hyunjin nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

“How do you know all of this?”

You knew the story of the parties, having been told by your mother growing up, but how did he? Hyunjin blew out a breath, seemingly debating if he should answer the question honestly.

“I was at the first party.”

You laughed.

“So, we’ve known each other since I was seven and only recently became friends?”

Hyunjin shook his head.

You stopped laughing.

“No, I mean I was at the first party.”

You refused to process what he said.

“Hyunjin, that was three hundred years ago. How…”

He sat down next to you, taking your hand in his.

“I think it’s important that you understand where I’m from. When I’m from.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close he was and how plush his lips looked. Everything about him made your brain fuzzy, pulling you in. He pulled back, a frown forming on your face.

“Baby, focus.”

You blinked, trying to clear your mind enough to listen to what he was saying.

“I was born six hundred years ago. I age ten years every three hundred. Do you understand?”

You refused to believe him. There was no way. All of the years you had spent infatuated with stories like this never prepared you for it to be true.

“So you’re… not human?”

He smiled and dropped his head. His shoulders shook with silent laughter. He raised his head again and looked you squarely in the eyes.

“No, no I’m not. There’s a term for what I am, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m very obviously accepting of the fact that you’re not human and I don’t feel like you’re going to eat or attack me, so give it to me. What are you?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t place your finger on.

“I’m a vampire.”

You knew it. Your brain had concluded it some time ago when he had begun talking. It had all added up, the heightened senses, knowing his way around the property, refusing to take as many shots as you. Still, the confession made your blood run cold and your breathing stop. His voice cut through your brain's initial panic.

“Does that scare you?”

“No. If you wanted to do something to me, you would have already. We’re alone in a graveyard for fuck’s sake.”

He smiled.

“Good answer. That’s going to make this a lot easier for me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in and touched his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, happy to have confirmation that his lips were as soft as they looked. His hand came up to cradle your face and you leaned in, resting a hand on his thigh. You scoffed internally at the fact that he thought his confession would scare you. If anything, it made you more attracted to him. There was an underlying sense of danger that heightened your senses and made kissing him feel like touching a live wire. Goosebumps ran from the top of your scalp down your arms and legs, making you shiver. Hyunjin pulled back.

“We should get you out of the cold.”

You smiled as an idea popped into your head.

“I know where we can go. Follow me.”

You stood, pulling him up from the bench and leading him back to the courtyard. You walked through it to the ballroom, weaving between guests until you made it to the back of the room. A staff member moved to stop you from entering the doors that led into the foyer but allowed you and Hyunjin to pass once she saw who was in front of her. As the door closed behind you, the party muffled into the background and the click of your heels on the marble floor rang in your ears. You stopped under the chandelier that hung in the entryway. A slower song from the ballroom filtered in from the cracks in the door. You instantly recognized it.

“Underneath the chandelier, we're dancin' all alone…”

How fitting. You spun to face Hyunjin who was walking closer to you, humming the lyrics. His hands circled your waist, mimicking earlier, as you looped your arms behind his neck. You pressed your bodies together and began to sway from side to side as you followed Hyunjin’s lead. You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. You admired the way the lighting made his skin look golden and brought out the light brown stripes in his eyes. He looked down at you with, what had to be, the same expression you had on your face. He spun the two of you around, making it feel like you had your own personal ballroom. He leaned down, prompting you to lift your head off of his shoulder and meet his lips again. Your kiss intensified as your lips parted and his tongue made its way into your mouth. Your hands tangled in his blonde hair and you bit his lip, something you had been wanting to do ever since you had first laid eyes on him, and pulled a small, barely audible moan from him. He broke the kiss, leaving you wanting more. He touched his forehead to yours, breathing heavily.

“What…”

“Shhh, follow me.”

He let go of your waist and let you lead him out of the entryway and up the stairs. You knew what he wanted. You wanted the same thing. You had been wanting it ever since you saw him for the first time at the party when you were sixteen. Now, you weren’t going to let anything get in your way. You led him to your bedroom and closed the door. You turned to face him and found him sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on his elbows with his legs slightly spread. You walked towards him, slipping his jacket off of your shoulders and letting it hit the ground softly. You stood between his legs, looking down at him.

“Why did you get me all those gifts, Hyuni?”

He drew in a shaky breath at the nickname. You took note.

“I- I wanted to see you wearing something that I knew came from me.”

You began to lower yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

“I wanted to see something that labeled you as mine.”

Now, you were kneeling in front of him, your head resting on his thigh. You looked up at him, eyelids low and seductive.

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.”

You pressed a light kiss to his inner thigh, causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Four years. Chan- fuck.”

You moved up, leaving a trail of hot kisses through the fabric.

“Chan dragged me to the party four years ago. I didn’t want to go… Then I saw you and kept coming back. Even when there wasn’t a party going on.” You had moved to the other thigh, kissing down it. You remembered him showing up in your life after the party. You never questioned it, but you always knew Chan had something to do with it. Hyunjin’s hand moved from the bed to the side of your face and pulled you up towards him. He kissed you with a need you had never felt before, pulling you to your feet and leading you backward. Your back hit the door as his hands traveled up and down your body, one stopped on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed by the slit in the dress. His hand moved under it and hiked your leg up to his hip. You wrapped it around and pulled him close, your bodies flush with one another’s. Your hands stayed planted in his hair. His mouth left yours and moved down your neck. His confession in the graveyard came back to you and made your breathing come in rapid pants. He pulled away and looked down at you.

“Are you scared?”

He asked you the same question from earlier. You shook your head. You weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. He moved back to your neck, his teeth scraping over a vein, teasing you. You swallowed and drew in a breath.

“Hyuni…”

“Mmm?”

He hummed against your skin.

You laughed nervously.

“You’re not gonna…right?”

His lips traveled upwards until they were next to your ear.

“I won’t bite you, baby. That is, unless you ask.”

You smiled. One thing was for sure, you wouldn’t be a news headline.

He resumed kissing your neck, teeth and all causing you to shiver. He moved down to your shoulder, stopping at the strap of your dress.

“Fuck, you look so good in this dress. I knew you would.”

You brought his lips back to yours, the fire inside of you both reigniting and burning together. He places both hands under your thighs, effectively lifting you and carrying you over to the vanity. You gasped, the possibility of him being extremely strong completely slipping your mind. He always moved so elegantly that you never would have assumed that under that silk shirt were firm muscles that could carry you across the room. He placed you down and you silently thanked your past self for putting your makeup away earlier that day. Hyunjin’s lips were next to your ear and you could feel his breath when he spoke.

“I need you. Can I have you?”

You had never replied faster, an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ leaving your lips. Hyunjin pulled back and smiled at you. Oh yeah, whatever the hell he wanted to do to you he could. You didn’t know if that was your years-long crush speaking or his intoxicating energy that came with the territory. Whichever it was, you wanted every part of it. His hand traveled out from under your thigh, across the top of it, and up your leg until it dipped under where the fabric met at the top. His lips had made it back to yours and you could feel his fingers getting closer and closer until they were pulling your underwear to the side and running over your clit. You let out a gasp into the kiss, his tongue in your mouth furthering the sensation. Your body was hot all over and you knew it would only intensify when he was inside of you later. You shook in anticipation and his finger swept over your clit again before he pushed one into you. You moaned, dipping your head back and his free hand came up to grip your chin.

“Eyes on me baby girl. I want to watch you react.”

Fucking freak. You liked it, though. His fingers continued to move until he could slide another in, stretching you out and leaving your mouth open while your chest heaved. His fingers inside of you curled, hitting just right over and over again while you called out for him.

“Hyun- Hyunjin. Oh, fuck. Oh my go- Shit.”

The entire time he whispered encouraging praises to you.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

“Just like that.”

“That’s my baby.”

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Tell me how good it feels.”

His eyes studied your face as you fell apart, your eyes closing, your head dipping back between your shoulders. His fingers continued, moving at an even pace that felt like it would break you into a million pieces from the inside out. After a few minutes, he sped up every so slightly, causing you to lurch forward and rest your head against his shoulder, your hands clutching at the back of his shirt. You could feel yourself on the edge, he brought you closer and closer with every curl of his fingers… until he stopped. Your eyes popped open, the feeling of defeat sinking in. You pulled back from him as his finger slipped out of you. He pulled back and smiled. He fucking smiled. If you weren’t so tired, you would have smacked him.

“Hyuni, why’d you stop?”

Your eyes were lidded with exhaustion and your voice came out in a whine.

Hyunjin laughed lightly at you.

“Trust me, baby.”

You held the top of his shirt where the top two buttons were undone. Whore. You pulled him closer.

“I need you.”

That did it. Hyunjin’s eyes sparked and caught fire. His hands moved swiftly from your thighs to your waist, picked you up from the vanity, and spun you around so that your back was to him and you were facing the bed. One of his hands moved to the small of your back and traced the hidden zipper up, finding the tab and pulling it down. The strap on your shoulder slid off, as did the rest of the dress and your underwear (thanks to his quick fingers), leaving you exposed in front of him.

“Sit on the bed, darling.”

He purred softly behind you. You followed his command and sat down, facing him where he stood with his back against the vanity. He began rolling up the sleeves of his black silk dress shirt, exposing his forearms. You watched the tendons flex as his fingers pulled at the material. Your eyes shifted to the mirror behind him, watching the back muscles under his shirt expand and contract. The entire time his head was low and his eyes were burning a hole into you. He walked towards you, stepping carefully over the dress on the floor. Stopping in front of the bed, he leaned down, placing his hands on your thighs. He hooked them under you and pushed you up the bed. He lowered himself between your legs and began running his fingertips up your legs. The sensation made your back arch, yearning for him to be inside of you again in any capacity.

“Hyuni, please.”

He groaned.

“Say that again.”

“Hyuni?”

He dropped his head onto your shoulder and moaned. You ran a hand into his blonde locks and pulled him up to meet your eyes.

“Take your clothes off.”

He moved so fast that you still felt his weight on top of you as he stood, undid the buttons of his shirt, and stepped out of his black slacks and briefs. He didn’t crawl on top of you when he made his way back towards you. Instead, he lowered himself to his knees, prompting you to push yourself onto your elbows, watching him. His torso rested on the bed, his hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart as he lowered his lips to your clit. You dropped against the mattress with a moan, his lips finally doing what you had wanted all along. As his tongue circled, his fingers found themselves inside of you again causing you to twitch and grind against his face. He made no effort to stop you, groaning in response every time your hips bucked and strings of curses and moans left your lips. You pleaded his name over and over again, begging him to bring you to the edge again. He moaned against you, the sound pushing you closer and closer. His whines for you were music, the lightest noise you could imagine mixed with the most guttural urge to please that you had ever heard. Sex with a vampire had never been on your real-life-possibilities radar, but here you were, and fuck if it wasn’t the best head you’d ever received in your life. Your orgasm ripped through you, feeling like it would split your skin and break your bones in one moment while transporting you to a fuzzy cloud of bliss the next. Hyunjin kissed your inner thighs, making you shiver with each sensation. He brought himself up and hovered over you, his eyes low and dark. Oh, he wasn’t done. You registered what he wanted and held his shoulders, pausing him from going any further just yet. You studied his face, his lips red and covered in you and his blonde hair creeping down his neck, messy from your fingers pulling at it. His arms bulged from holding himself up, his muscles taught and firm. His broad chest expanded and contracted as he breathed above you. Further down, his abs were ridgid and golden in the low lighting of your bedroom. He looked like he stepped out of a fucking Victorian oil painting. Maybe he did. You didn’t focus on logistics for too long, your need for him overtaking your senses.

“Love.”

His voice snapped your eyes back to his.

You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Hyuni.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Need you, baby.”

His head dropped, placing his forehead against yours.

“How much?”

His head raised. His eyebrows cinched together. You ran your fingers through his hair again.

“Show me, Hyuni. Show me how much you need me.”

In a flash, he was off of you again, standing, and flipping you over onto your stomach. One of his arms snaked around your torsos, the other around your chest. He pulled you up onto your knees, his arms caged around you firm, but gentle. Your back pressed against his chest and you held on to his arms. In a singular roll of his hips, he was inside of you, his lips next to your ear while he whispered praises to you. Your head dropped back against his chest and your hands gripped his thighs behind you. Even standing while you were elevated on the bed, he was still taller than you. His hips pushed up again, making you cry out. If he had not been holding you against him, you would have fallen face-first into the mattress. He rolled his hips into you over and over, feeling the friction inside of you made your heart and breathing accelerate. His head lowered in tandem with his arm around your torso. While his mouth left wet-hot kisses below your ear and down your neck, his fingers lightly brushed over your clit. The slightest pressure caused your moans to mix with his. In reality, his arm could have stayed around your waist. The feeling of him inside of you was enough to have your muscles tensing and cause you to clench around him. He detached from where he was leaving hickeys against your neck and raised his head. To the right was the vanity he had you on earlier. The reflection in the mirror caught his eye and he turned his head to watch himself fuck in and out of you. You looked like the fucking picture of beauty, your skin shining golden with a sheen of sweat, your body draped back over his, your eyes closed in bliss, your head tilted back against him exposing your neck, and your lips parted spilling sinful noises drove him crazy. You called out to him, pulling his focus back to you in front of him.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, oh fuck.”

He smiled above you and moved his hand on your clit faster. Almost instantly, your body tensed, coaxing him to finish with you. Your moans mixed and your body fell backwards against his. He stayed grounded, holding you up until he could move you to lie down on the mattress. Once he did, he crawled next to you, opening his arms to you. You shuffled into them. His skin was cool which was a welcome contrast to how warm you were. You both laid there for some time until he broke the silence.

“I expected you to be scared.”

You angled your head, which was on his chest, up to look at him.

“What?”

“When I told you. I expected you to run away or something. Most people do.”

You propped yourself up with one arm and raised your other hand to run your fingers through his hair.

“Hyuni, I will never be scared of you.”

He smiled.

“I have a question, though.”

“I figured you would have a few. Ask away.”

“When the fuck were you born?”

He laughed, his smile so wide his eyes turned to crescents and his teeth glinted in the soft lighting. You smacked his chest lightly.

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question!”

His laughter died down, but his smile stayed.

“No, it is. I just thought it would be more along the lines of ‘how many people have you killed’ or something like that.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know if I want that information.”

“Good, I wasn’t planning on telling you anyway. To answer your question, it was sometime in the 1400’s. I wasn’t bit or anything, I was just born like this. I don’t know the exact year, but it was around that time. I’ve tried to figure it out, but even after all these years math still confuses the fuck out of me. I should ask Changbin, I’m sure he could figure it out.”

You had laid back down on his chest by now and watched as he spoke. He was staring at the ceiling as if he was talking to himself.

“Remember how I said at the first party that people who were outcasted by society came to it to hopefully work their way back in?”

You nodded.

“Well, they did. There are quite a few people here like me, but you’d never know.”

“Anyone I know?”

He looked at you.

“Yeah, actually. A couple of people you know very well.”

You thought for a second. The only people you knew that well were Changbin and Chan, but there was no way they could be vampires. Or could they? Hyunjin could sense the wheels in your head turning, his smile getting a bit wider.

“No way.”

He nodded.

“Yes, way.”

“This whole time the three of you have been fucking vampires and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck?”

He barked out a laugh and pulled you closer.

“It’s hard to tell people. Especially people we like. We don’t want to lose anyone.”

“I’m still mad you didn’t tell me sooner. You’ve seen my copies of Twilight. What made you think I would run away in terror?”

“Fiction and real life are two different things, babe.”

Hynjin planted a kiss on your forehead. Outside, you could hear the party still going strong. You looked at the clock on your bedside table. 11:59. You sat up.

“C’mon.”

Hyunjin watched as you pulled a blanket off the bed and around your shoulders. You made your way to the window and flicked the lights off. Hyunjin stood and joined you, as you opened the blanket for him to wrap his body in next to you. Outside of the window, the sky began to light up in every color of the rainbow. The fireworks illuminated the estate and you could hear the cheers of the partygoers below. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and placed a kiss on your forehead again. He looked down at you, your eyes locking as his skin flashed different colors from the light of the fireworks.

“I don’t tell people this because they’re usually not around long enough for me to tell them, but I have to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“Can I tell you something, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, Hyuni.”

Hiiiiii, I loved writing Hyunjin!!! If anyone has any requests, please let me know!! You can find me @starsneverdie (https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsneverdie) on AO3 and @starsneverdie_ (https://x.com/starsneverdie_) on Twitter. I promise I'm super cool and funny and sexy consider interacting with me over there!! As always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!