#all while they remain blissfully ignorant of WHY acting like that was more comfortable for me despite me yknow. telling them outright.

[anaalnathrakhs]

wait, 8 years old kid, you can be alone all day but we'll drive all the mandatory stuff ourselves! wait, 12 years old kid, you're too independant! wait, 14 years old kid, come sit with us instead! wait, 17 years old kid, i'll take the car and pick you up 800 meters away from home! wait, 18 years old kid, don't you know how difficult and hard and painful it was for us when you didn't do activities you don't like with us, back then!

wait, 18 years old kid, i don't understand why you're not more independant if you want it so badly, after all it's normal at your age!

[izvmimi]

You feel fifteen again while sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, looking over one of Izuku’s injuries. Years have passed, scrapes and bruises and cuts and even a severed arm have all been healed yet so much of your love for him is wrapped up in the simple act of ensuring his safety and wellbeing. 

Your body is angled, leaning across the floor to inspect the love of your life's banged up knee just like you used to in a school skirt or sleep shorts or however. Wherever. Any time he needed. Granted, his injuries back then were far worse than this one is but the nostalgia remains all the same.

It’s a wonder how you managed to deny your feelings for him back then but that’s not the nostalgia you’re interested in wading through at the moment so you ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. The toughened skin is in good shape considering the distance he fell from while still working on regaining control of his reawakened Float quirk, old scars creating a sort of armor and leaving behind only a bit of road rash that likely won’t even add a new one to the collection.

Humming softly, you lean in closer and squint to make sure you aren’t missing any embedded objects. The wound is clean as a whistle which is yet another thing to be grateful about. You shake the bottle of disinfectant spray 

“You’ve been helping me out for a long time.” He lets out an exaggerated hiss that disrupts his speech, the squeaky spray of the bottle when you press the trigger handle down matching it in tone. “I might be starting to think you like me or something.”

A giggle bubbles from you, the diamond in your ring glinting beneath the overhead light when you adjust your grip around the bottle and place it aside. The bandage in your lap sits idle, waiting for your next move.

“I mean, I’d have to say I more than just like you, Izuku. We are legally married.”

The disinfectant air dries, the shiny spray growing translucent with each passing second, indicating it’s time to cover the little scrape. You fold back the paper wings, pulling them off of the adhesive, carefully using your thumb to press down the edges as you place it over the increasingly less red wound.

“Yeah but sometimes it feels too good to be true,” he admits quietly, green eyes glued to your every last move. Your fingers smooth any wrinkles out of the bandage now that it has been fully affixed and you meet his gaze, half smiling.

“Why do you say that?”

A shrug is his immediate response, as if he’s buying time to figure out what he really wants to say which is a bit unusual. Furrowing your brows, you sit up and walk on your knees to join his side, wrapping an arm around his sizable bicep. The touch comforts him and his shoulders slump, head falling to the side to rest on top of yours.

“Just…all of this. I know it has been a lot for you and I worry it’ll be too much eventually.”

Reaching across his chest, broader than teenage you could have ever imagined it being thanks to his meticulous workout routine, you cup his face and pull it downward so that you can look in his eyes.

“You’ve never been too much for me. Ever.” He nods once, a sweet, serene smile to mirror your own chasing the frown from his face. “Oddly, I’m kind of grateful to be the one who gets to do this forever.”

Laughing, he leans in to kiss you. The two of you are happy, so blissfully happy, it’s hard to believe the hard times you’ve ever been through occurred to begin with. He’s always been more than just Deku to you - he has been the love of your life for as long as you can remember and if that means patching up a few of his scrapes here and there, it isn’t the worst trade-off.

With how contentedly he sighs, you tend to believe he may agree with how you feel.

“You aren’t the only one, Mrs. Midoriya,” he confirms your gut feeling and scoops you into his arms the best that he can at the awkward angle of your bodies. Your husband rocks you back and forth, a rhythm that matches the one you were just humming. 

In sync, perfectly, as always. 

why are you like this

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 5

masterlist

Alright my darlings! Here it is! sorry it took so long to come out. I’ve been just swamped lately, and this election has me majorly on edge. But it’s here! Please enjoy!--- chaotic puff

She flipped through the wardrobe looking for anything in the cavernous closet that resembled a pair of pants, but there was nothing. There were only skirts, and blouses, and an abundance of feminine dresses. Nothing about the disturbing collection of clothing Jin had provided for her exactly said comfort, but it practically screamed rich house wife, a fact that was almost as disturbing as the fact Jin had a collection of clothes ready for her and all in her size. She didn’t even want to think about why he knew her sizes.

She’d looked through the closet at least three times now, but she continued to search. It seemed though that her choices were either wear the skirts and dresses or steal Jin’s clothes. She noticed with no small amount of distain that Jin kept comfortable clothes for himself. There was a collection of oversized sweatshirts and soft sweatpants in his section of the closet, but she didn’t want to touch his clothes. She didn’t want to touch the provided wardrobe either though.

“I see you’re awake!” Jin grinned cheerily as he strolled into the closet. She froze, fright immediately overcoming annoyance. He moved towards her at a leisurely pace, and she scrambled back frantic as there was nowhere for her to flee to. “How are you this morning, my darling?”

“Stay back!” She whimpered shrinking against the wall.

“Oh darling.” He cooed smiling at the way she trembled before him. “You must be freezing in just that nightgown. Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

She continued to shrink away from him, but he ignored her turning his attention to her wardrobe perusing the skirts and dresses eager to dress her up in styles and fabrics that were befitting of her station as his woman.

“Did you have a good rest, darling?” He asked turning to her with a soft smile as he plucked a soft cream sweater from the rack. She stared back at him debating if he was serious or not. He had forced sleeping pills down her throat as soon as he had put her back in bed. It had been a blissfully dreamless sleep if not an unwilling one. “You’re still looking a bit tired.” He mused turning back to the clothing and plucking a cream skirt from the rack as well in what seemed like a satiny material. It would be more comfortable than most of the dresses she saw at least. “Why don’t you get dressed, and then we’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

She flinched back as he handed the clothing to her, but Jin didn’t pay it any attention. She was still in shock that was all. Everything would be fine once she settled in.  “Do you need some help, darling? Are you still feeling sick?”

She scrambling away from his approaching figure clutching the clothing to her chest as though it could protect her from him.

“None of that.” He scolded pulling her toward him. “If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”

He pulled her with him over to another drawer, one that she knew from her search for pants contained an alarming assortment of lingerie. He pulled out a pair of undergarments handing them over to her as though there was nothing at all unusual about the situation at hand. “Come along. Get dressed, darling.”

She stared at him trying to figure out if he was truly expecting her to change in front of him, but he showed no signs of leaving.

“Do you need help?” He asked stepping forward, head tilted curiously to one side as he assessed her. She hadn’t moved yet, and he couldn’t understand why she hadn’t moved. She had the clothes, and he knew she wasn’t stupid. He pushed the straps of the nightgown off her shoulders despite her protests as it pooled to the ground leaving her in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties.

“Sajangnim!” She yelped hands immediately flying to cover whatever she could from his sight.

“Jin.” He scolded. “You will call me Jin. We’re not in the office anymore, darling. There’s no need for such formality. We’re finally together.”

“Sajangnim.” She repeated trembling under his gaze but trying to remain strong as he stared her down frowning in displeasure.

He grabbed her hair tightly, bringing her into her chest and bending her neck at an uncomfortable angle as he forced her to look at him. “You wouldn’t want to make me upset now, would you, darling?” He cooed though there was something harsh and cold in his eyes offsetting the gentle tone. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“Please,” She whimpered. “You’re hurting me.”

“Then be a good girl, and get dressed.”  He released her watching her stumble back desperately trying to keep herself covered and keep her balance at the same time.

She kneeled down picking up the dropped clothing and quickly slipping into the undergarments. It wasn’t much, but it was at least something that kept her shielded from his eyes. He was at the very least kind enough to hand her the rest of her dropped clothing even if he was not kind enough to give her privacy to get dressed.

Even with clothes on, she felt exposed. He had seen her completely exposed. It was with horror that she realized he had probably been the one to undress her and put her in the nightgown to begin with. She doubted he had allowed the house keeper to do it, or that the house keeper even knew she was here.

Once she was dressed, Jin sat her down at the vanity running a brush gently through the hair he had so harshly gripped only moments before. It was an unnerving contrast, but she allowed him to continue, frightened of what he would do if she resisted. He seemed slightly unhinged one minute, and then perfectly content in the next. The motions were repetitive and easy, but Jin looked so happy to be doing something as simple as pulling the brush through her hair.  It was too strange. Too domestic. Since when did Jin show this much care for other people?

“There.” He grinned setting down the brush and caging her in from behind placing his hands on the vanity on either side of her. “Beautiful.” He kissed the top of her head, and she had to suppress a shudder as she watched his dark eyes through the mirror. “Let me grab some jewelry for you, darling. You stay right here.”

He moved away, and she was watching him through the mirror all the while as he pulled out drawers examining the jewelry within. She had found those as well during her quest for pants. The closet was filled with expensive clothes and extravagant jewelry and shoes that would have made Carrie Bradshaw faint, but not one pair of pants meant for her.

He came back handing her a pair of earrings, a simple pair of pear shaped diamond studs. He also clasped a gold locket around her neck. The outside was decorated in an intricate but delicate filigree. It was beautiful. In any other situation she would have loved it. She would have dreamed of buying it, but it was here, with Jin, and everything was wrong.

She stared at him through mirror as he finished. He looked so utterly relaxed, content as if this were all normal for him, as if he did this every day.

“Jin?” She asked voice soft and shaky.

“Let’s get you some breakfast, darling.” He smiled contentedly pulling her up from her seat and leading her through the penthouse towards his kitchen.

Once there he sat her down at the kitchen island as he got to work preparing the morning meal. It was odd. She knew Jin could cook, but he had never cooked for her. She had always ordered take out when they worked late at his penthouse. If she was there, there was usually too much work to be done for them to be concerning themselves with cooking.

He moved with such practiced ease through the kitchen that she couldn’t help but wonder if this was what he had intended all those times he had tried to invite her to dinner, but in the same train of thought she had to kick herself for not noticing how unusual Jin’s conduct towards her was. How could she not have seen? Yes, she had found him unnerving, but she had never acted on it. She should have acted on it.

“Jin?” She asked again, trying once more to begin her line of questioning. There were so many questions running through her head, but there was also a fear of saying the wrong thing and brining Jin’s wrath down on her head.

“Yes, darling?” He asked looking away from his cooking to face her.

“Why am I here? Why is there a closet full of clothes for me?”

She dreaded the answer, but it had to be asked.

“Because this is your home, darling.” He chuckled as though the question were silly, something she should have already known.

“This isn’t my home.” The words were said slowly, carefully. She wanted to make her point, but she also needed to be careful of Jin’s reactions.

“Of course it is, darling.” He chuckled setting a western style omelet in front of her.

“You were just at my house the other day.” She reminded him. “When you took me home, and the police came for Minseok.”

“Don’t.” He hissed grinding his teeth. “Don’t say his name.”

She took a breath trying to calm her racing heart as well as her racing thoughts. “Why am I here?” She asked again staring into his eyes as she searched for answers.

“I already told you, darling.” He scoffed leaning across the counter to brush a stray piece of hair away from her face. “You’re home.”

“And I told you that I’m not. I have to go home. Someone has to look after Jinnie.”

The human Jin hummed in distaste. He had forgotten about the pesky dog. He had hoped she would as well. “We can get you a nice pure bred dog if you’d like.” He offered smiling indulgently at her.

“I don’t want a new dog. I’d like to go home now please. I need to take care of Jinnie, and I need to start looking for a new job.”

Jin’s brows scrunched together in dissatisfaction. “You won’t be working, darling. Why would you? I have everything you need right here.”

“I have to go home. I have to work. I have bills to pay.” She kept her voice steady but the sense of unease was quickly growing into panic.

Jin sighed running a hand through his hair before leveling her with a disappointed look as though he were a parent scolding a child. “Darling, you aren’t leaving. This is your home.”

“This is your home.”

“And now it’s yours.” She really didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re staying here, with me.” He explained pasting on a smile that had that same parental quality to it as though she was a wayward child who didn’t understand her situation. True, she did not understand her situation, but she was by no means a child.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve brought you home, darling. We can be together now, no distractions.”

“What?” She breathed out the questions eyes wide with shock and distress.

“You should eat.” He motioned towards her plate worrying over her lack of color and the way her hands were trembling. It was his job to take care of his darling, and he didn’t want her collapsing again. The doctor had said it was exhaustion and dehydration, but he was still worried. She needed to get her strength up.

“What do you mean, we can be together now?” She asked ignoring his prompting and the omelet slowly growing cold in front of her.

“I mean, that we’re going to be together, just as we should have been from the start.” He smiled cutting up a piece of her omelet and holding the fork out to her like one would a child. “Say ‘aaaaah’.”

She pushed the fork away concern distorting her features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never been together. I don’t want to be together.”

It was with dawning horror she watched as his features darkened with a carefully controlled rage, but as quickly as it came, it passed away again, replaced by something more condescending in nature.

“You don’t mean that, darling.” He grumbled pasting on a mirthless smile as he spoke to her. “You’re just tired. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll feel better after you eat something. The doctor said you might be a little out of it after your collapse.” He held out the fork to her again pressing the piece of omelet against her lips and shoving it in when she opened her mouth to protest. “There.” He smiled slightly more contented now that she had had a bite of his food. “Isn’t that better?”

She chewed and swallowed watching him the whole time with wide frightened eyes. He was unhinged, completely mad. Did he actually think they were together? What had she gotten herself into?

part 6

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Supposedly 

A/N: this was a request sent in that inspired me a lot for some reason and i figured i’d do it cause i haven’t done any demon!h and demon!reader in a while so i gave it a go and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D enjoy!

Anonymous: This may be too cutesy for them, but do demon!harry and demon!reader ever cuddle after they fuck? Or they fall asleep separately but wake up in each other’s arms and just try to play it off awkwardly 

word count: 4.5k

content: some angst but nothing major, fluff, mentions of nudity, and some cocky asshole demon!h because that’s his Brand laidese and germs!!

///

Despite the emotionless, unattached agenda demons tend to uphold, let it be known that Harry didn’t really mind what was happening at the moment. 

On the surface level, from an outside perspective, this definitely doesn’t fit the bill for what is expected from his kind. Cuddling is an action reserved usually for real couples that have a sentimental bond, which he and Y/N are very much not. He’s not even quite sure what they are, really. Their relationship— if he can even call it that— was born out of three very important, adequately limiting notions: a mutual understanding, the desire for a convenient warm body, and sheer boredom. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The mutual understanding was that neither of them wanted a genuine significant other, given what they are, so it was established that feelings were to be kept out of this arrangement completely. Emotions lead to complications, complications lead to a falling out, and a falling out would be inexplicably messy considering that they’ve shared the same friend group for well over a decade now and neither are willing to let a booty call mishap ruin that. Feelings stay dormant, end of discussion. 

The desire for a convenient warm body is pretty self-explanatory— Harry and Y/N had known each other for a while now so there was no annoying getting to know you phase, they both agreed that they found the other attractive, and they both live relatively close to one another so it was a pleasant set-up with minimal issues. Harry could shoot her a text at three in the morning and she’d be at his place in less than five minutes, or vice versa. There was no spending hours at a bar trying to pick someone up, no time wasted learning what the other person likes and dislikes, and certainly no fretting over birth control tactics to keep up appearances— they were both dead, which is a morbid advantage but an advantage nonetheless. It was easy access, easy fun, and easy clean-up. 

The sheer boredom aspect was just that. It had started on a drunken night out with friends, where— by a series of fortunate events— Harry and Y/N had ended up together post-bender, sitting in his car in the parking lot of a club. They had been waiting for him to sober up to drive them home and she had made a passing comment about not wanting to turn in for the night quite yet. He’d blinked at her sluggishly, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind her ear because he was getting secondhand irritation from it tickling her nose. He’d spoken up, voice numb and thick from the alcohol. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Y/N had glanced over at him, eyes half-lidded as they had raked down his lean tattooed chest, his unbuttoned silk sheer shirt leaving very little to the imagination. When she’d pinned her gaze back up to his, her eyes had inked black as they’d flitted to the palm of his hand for a second, a suggestive glint washing across their reflective surface as the corner of her pretty mouth had quirked. “I have a decent idea of exactly what I wanna do.”

And now here they were, with many restless, heated nights, ruined bed frames, and rumpled sheets littering their past, as well as their immediate future. 

And here Harry was, slowly blinking awake after one of those said nights, cruel scratches itching across his back as they finish up healing, an empty content still bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 

His lashes flutter open as he inhales a large sigh, flinching at the bright sunlight filtering its way through the lightly swaying curtains. The only sound in the room is the soft thrum of the air vent at the far corner of the ceiling, alongside Y/N’s soft, rhythmic breathing. 

In his barely conscious state, Harry goes to do what he always does the morning after he’s spent a night doing Y/N’s back in: he goes to stretch. He does most of the work more times than not— courtesy of his dominant tendencies— but she always gives him a run for his soul. Anything he dishes out, she usually returns with the same amount of energy and will. Last night hadn’t been any different and the ache at the bottom of his spine and along his inner thighs proves it. 

Harry instinctively goes to lift his arms above his head, reaching for the top of the headboard to use it as support. He is stopped cold when he realizes a foreign weight is keeping one of his arms pinned to the bed. 

He knuckles at his eyes with his free hand, ridding them of the last residues of sleep, and then drags his palm up his face and through his mussed curls to comb away his disorientation. He cranes his sore neck to the side and downwards, eyebrows jolting up in surprise when he’s met with a wall of fluffy, tangled, mandarin-scented hair. 

Harry lifts his head up slightly, neck straining to see over the back of Y/N’s wild halo to make sure that the image before him isn’t some type of exhaustion-induced mirage. 

It’s odd for her to be so near him— she usually likes her space; says that being too close in proximity for too long is irritating. It’s why she usually sleeps with her back to him at the other end of the bed, and why he’s gotten accustomed to giving her the majority of the mattress space. Despite the fact that it’s his flat, she’s stubborn, hard-headed, argumentative and frankly, he’d rather just forfeit the extra leg room instead of bickering for thirty minutes just to end up losing anyways. It’s gentlemanly, in a sense. Minimal, but it’s something.

Given Y/N’s general disgust for excess contact, it’s no shock as to why Harry is utterly baffled right now. He’s about ninety-eight percent sure she’d fallen asleep all the way across the expanse of his sheets so how did they willingly end up here? How did they end up with her bare back pressed to his chest, her legs intertwined between his, and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist, wedged between her hips and the bed. 

Harry would never outright admit it but...he’s not necessarily mad about it. 

As he lays there for a few more seconds, absorbing the situation with an expression of pensive dismay pinching his face, he slowly comes to terms that he’s actually starting to enjoy this.

The warmth of her smooth skin gradually undoes the knot of confusion between his brows. The sensation of her back flushing against his chest as it rises and falls with her breathing erases the unease dipping the corners of his stinging mouth. The way she’s started to unconsciously rub her calves gently up and down his own makes the last traces of unsettlement melt off his face, replaced by an appearance of subtle affection, lips parting in blank wonder. 

Harry relaxes back into the plushness of the mattress, eyes remaining glued to a blissfully ignorant Y/N. His thoughts are scurrying around the inside of his skull, attempting to get accustomed with this new experience, having a difficult time arranging into place. He’s aware that he seems to be taking easily to what’s unfolding, but there’s an unsteady bubble inflating in his chest. He knows that if he lets himself dwell in this too much, it’ll end up biting him in the ass later, most likely as a wave of undealt emotions and crippling loneliness; that’s baggage he’s spent too many years compartmentalizing for it to all just come bursting out. 

All those decades of locking away his issues are in danger of resurfacing, and all for some harmless hugging? Doesn’t seem like a fair negotiation, and he knows plenty about negotiations. 

However, he can’t seem to make himself pull away. 

Especially not when Y/N suddenly shifts in her sleep, turning onto her other side so that she's now facing him, snuggling deeper into his body and tucking her head into the junction between his neck and collarbones. Her annoyingly soft, hot lips smear against his throat, settling into the dip at the center where a pulse would normally be present. The feeling of her exhales washing across his cold skin sends a wringing down his spine, a hushed “fuck…” escaping his dry mouth as the warmth behind the gesture spreads upwards, spilling redness into his cheeks and along the shells of his ears. Her hands come up as loose fists, pressing between his pectorals lightly, her own naked chest flushing against her forearms. 

Surprisingly enough, her supple chest isn’t at the forefront of his mind at this instant. Instead, he’s focused on the intimacy they’re sharing in this moment, unbeknownst to her and stressfully beknownst to him. 

Harry’s free hand acts of its own accord, coasting upwards towards her face and moving her chin over a bit until his palm can comfortably nurse her jaw. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly, every ridge and bump sending miniature shots of electricity surging through his veins, his eyes falling shut at this strange form of pleasure he hasn’t felt in ages. 

Y/N just looks so beautiful like that, in such a vulnerable state that he knows for sure no one else has ever gotten to witness— at least not in a very long time. 

No one else has gotten to see the way her lashes sit atop her cheekbones so delicately, her face soothed by sleep, not a wrinkle or grimace in sight. She looks as if she were made of porcelain, her features nothing short of perfect. No one has gotten to witness the way she mumbles a handful of incoherent, groggy words, her mind lost in a meaningless dream, or the way her nose twitches in the cutest manner as a draft from the air conditioning runs across it, causing her to sniffle. No one has seen the way she gives into his touch, her face cradling deeper into his hand, chasing the uncommon gentleness behind his demeanor and it hadn’t occurred to Harry that maybe— just maybe— she’s craving this type of innocent bliss, too, though he’s certain she would never confess to it if she were awake. 

Harry runs his hand down the slope of her bruised neck and across the curve of her shoulder, tracing the teeth marks he had left the night before. The tip of his fingers follow down the incline of her torso, wriggling around her side, his wrist resting upon the faint dip of her waist. He cups her lower back with his large hand, borrowing a moment to appreciate the way it fits flawlessly. He then leans forward some to give his reach more length, his digits carefully trailing up the middle of her spine, the action timid and tranquil. 

He looks down at her from over the tops of his colored cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he continues to lull his fingers up and down her back. Y/N releases a shy whimper of gratitude, her whole body bathing in a light shiver. She does like it.

Harry swallows thickly, moving away a few locks of hair off her shoulder with the tip of his nose, glassy jade irises studying her facial expressions to make sure she’s still asleep. He puckers his tingling lips, pressing a bundle of chaste kisses to the fading bite marks on her staticy skin. If his heart still beat, he feels like it would be glowing right now. 

He tilts his chin up, settling it on top of her head and sighing in satisfaction as he feels her steady breathing wash across his Adam’s Apple, her flyaway hairs tickling his nostrils. 

He decides to stay like that for a while,  just basking in her company within this tender setting that he knows he probably won’t receive again anytime soon. Harry lays there, limbs woven between Y/N’s as his black-polished nails scratch gently at her back, swimming in his numb thoughts. 

After what feels like hours— but is realistically just ten minutes— he goes to gingerly shift the arm stuck beneath her body, trying to regain some circulation. Y/N stirs, resulting in him freezing in place to prevent a mishap, his mouth finding her warm forehead and placing a lingering kiss between her brows. It eases her. 

Harry waits five minutes before trying again.

He manages to escape this time around, lifting his arm above his head and twisting out the cramp in his wrist, then folding it behind his head. He allows his eyes to shut once again, intent on spending a bit longer milling in this bubble of domestic peace.

His plan is shattered to pieces by an alarmed, angry sentence. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyelids fly open, ice materializing across his entire nervous system. 

Shit.

Y/N launches upwards, sitting up rigidly with her face contorted in startled repulsion, clutching his blood red sheets to her chest as her hair stands up in tousled tuffs. “What in Lucifer’s red, barren hell are you doing?”

Harry now has two distinctive routes to pick from: confess to partaking in the unorthodox cuddling, or fake it and say he was asleep as well and that it had all been an unintentional mistake. 

It’s hardly a choice. 

He flings his arms away from the other demon’s body as if sickened, shooting up into a seated position and slouching back onto his palms, a look of agitated horror plastered across his sleepy, handsome features. “What do you mean what am I doing? What the fuck were you doing?”

Y/N blinks at him as if he’d just stabbed her between the eyes with a demon blade, irises momentarily flitting black with nerves, the area under her waterline webbing with dark veins. “What do you mean what was I doing? You were the one with your arms around me!”

Harry narrows his sight at her pointedly, thick brows furrowing with faux resentment. “You were the one with your head snuggled into my neck and your hands on my chest!”

“You were the one kissing my forehead!”

“You were the one rubbing up on my legs!”

“Because you were close to me!”

“Because you rolled over here!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh, so what?” Harry snaps sarcastically, drawing forward and crossing his arms over his chest adamantly. “Did an angel sneak in and place you there? Because as I recall, you always sleep on the left side of the bed, so what were you doing on the right?”

Harry’s accurate counter renders Y/N speechless, her mouth parting quizzically as if waiting for a response to magically appear. Her eyebrows cinch down begrudgingly, the gears in her head spinning on overdrive, trying to piece together an appropriate rebuttal. Her grasp tightens on the blanket covering her bare body. “Well, I...I don’t know—I don’t think I—”

Harry cocks his head to the side expectantly, loose curls falling across his forehead as he shrugs his brows with a condescending air. He mimics her with a high-pitched voice. “Well, I— I don’t know— I—I don’t think I—I—I—”

Y/N’s face goes sour as heat floods her cheeks, fire threatening to spark across the tips of her sizzling ears. She yanks the sheets off of him, holding them with one hand as she uses the other to begin crawling across the bed towards the edge, a haphazard defense thrown over her shoulder. “Shut up! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Harry scoffs in dark amusement, not even bothering to cover himself up. He bites into his cheek to keep from exploding into a round of triumphant laughter; he can’t believe he managed to turn the tides so quickly. “Oh, so you admit it was you, then?”

Y/N dismounts the atrociously tall bed, stumbling over the long linens as she desperately searches for her clothes. “No! I’m just saying that whatever happened, it didn’t happen intentionally!” 

“Obviously.” The brunette demon snorts, shaking his head for subtle emphasis, crossing his ankles offhandedly and returning both arms to the place where one had been prior— tucked behind his head casually. “What do you think we are, mortal?” 

“Of course not.�� Y/N agrees quickly— a little too quickly, which hints to Harry that she might be trying to cover something up. Perhaps she wasn’t as disgusted by this as she had led on…

He watches as his friend— he uses the term lightly— shuffles around his room, peering at the floor in an determined quest to find her jeans, underwear, and black lace blouse. Or maybe she’s just hellbent on avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Y/N…” His tone has lost its arrogantly mocking edge, softened by what she can only decode as...guilt? 

She ignores it and doesn’t answer, nearly passing out in relief when she spots her panties and bra hanging off the doorknob to his closet. She snatches them swiftly, panning her gaze around the rest of the room for her leftover clothes, spotting them in a pile sticking out from underneath the opposite corner of the bed. They’d probably gotten kicked there in the heat of the moment. 

Harry repeats himself a little louder, adding onto his comment to try and stifle some of the embarrassment radiating from her. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave. You usually stay for breakfast.” 

Y/N scoops up her outfit, settling it into the crook of her right elbow and squaring her shoulders as if ready to brace a hellhound. Their gazes lock and he feels his stomach flop when he sees the vulnerability she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s good at it, he’ll give her that, but if he stares intently enough, he can just make out the traces of conflicted longing leaking into the disinterested facade around her pupils. 

“It’s fine, Harry.” She sighs heavily, her tone drastically different from the unkempt girl that had been floundering about just seconds ago. She’s now calm, cool, collected, and scaringly so. “I have somewhere to be later. Meeting someone to close a deal.”

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently, grabbing a handful of the sheets arranged around her figure and pulling away, dropping the bedspread at his feet and leaving herself completely nude. 

And there she is, the Y/N he so well knows. The same one that uses sex appeal as a shield. 

She’s managed to spackle the cracks that had appeared in her typical barrier of heartlessness, her confidence and ease leveling off once again. She places her clothes on top of the crumpled sheets, picking out her cheeky bright red panties from the heap and working them up her tempting legs. Harry can’t help but notice the hickies covering her inner thighs, as well as the finger prints staining her hips. 

Y/N catches him ogling, smirking to herself now that she has her composure back in order. She hooks her index finger around one of the straps in her bra, lifting it up and bouncing the lace lingerie in front of him teasingly. She raises her eyebrows at her lover provokingly, a sultry air pouting her lips. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Harry licks at his slightly chapped lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the article hanging off her hand to the sly grin decorating the edges of her pretty mouth. When he speaks, it’s low and thicker than usual, accent heavy. “Of course, pet.”

His legs thunk emptily off the bed and onto the floor, a small grunt catching the back of his throat as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He is most definitely sore. 

His footsteps are soft against the carpeted ground, faltering as he rounds the corner of the mattress. 

Y/N eyes his every move, suckling her bottom lip at the way his muscles flex and contract under his sun-kissed skin. She doesn’t let herself wander below his waist though; she’s never one to pass up flaunting her power of will. 

Harry stops about a foot away, taking the bra from she is offering and holding it out for her to slip into. She does so at a mind-numbing pace, her toes curling as she feels his warm fingertips running the material up her arms and onto their designated spot on her shoulders. He tugs at the hooks gently, pinning them into place and tucking the tag in, exactly how he’s seen her do countless of times before. 

He then runs the palms of his hands up her arms, sighing softly at the silky sensation of her skin and giving her shoulders a dismissive squeeze. “All done.” 

Y/N turns on her heels to face him, looking up innocently through her lashes, lips quirking into an easy smile. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.” 

Her playfully seductive personality is unbearably contagious, seen in how Harry returns her action with a coy scoff and a simper of his own. “For you, always.”

“Well…” Y/N turns her lower half to the side, showing him her ass for significance, which is covered in the unmistakable print of his hand and rings. “I wouldn’t say always.” 

Harry’s pursed lips break into an even wider shit-eating grin, his cheeky laughter echoing across the walls of the apartment, his arms absentmindedly folding across his broad chest. “Yeah, well, you can’t say it’s one-sided, can you?”

He points towards his neck, stretching his chin upwards so that she gets a good view of all the fading love bites she’d left there the night before. 

Y/N’s giggles match his. “Touché.”

Harry rummages through his drawers as she finishes getting dressed, shimmying into her tight jeans and throwing her shirt on, finger-combing her hair into a decent state. He comes up with a pair of maroon briefs, slipping them on as he walks back towards her, letting the elastic band snap into place against his lower abdomen. 

The two demons with benefits stand before each other, Y/N with her braided black sandals swung over her shoulders and Harry with his hands fixed on his hips nonchalantly. 

“You really can’t stay for breakfast?” Harry inquiries one last time, lifting his eyebrows curiously. “I’m making those cinnamon bun waffles you like so much.” 

Y/N sighs grandly, clutching her chest dramatically as if it physically hurts her to decline his offer. “I’d love to, but work is work. Don’t really have a say.” 

Her friend nods in understanding, well aware of the truth behind her words. “It is what it is, then.” 

“However...” Her sudden continuation makes his head perk. She reaches up, carding her fingers into his messy curls and combing them back from his face, tucking a handful of rebellious ringlets behind his small ears and giving him one final self-assured smile. “Do y’think you could maybe save me two and I can come pick them up tonight?”

Harry cranes his head to the side, placing a slow peck to the palm of her hand and then biting into her skin jokingly, a certain lewdness painted all over the deed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great.” Y/N quips happily, wrapping his curls around her knuckles roughly and hauling him in for a sloppy, dirty kiss that leaves his teeth numb and his face buzzing. 

Once she breaks their mouths, lightly panting with her skin a darker shade than before, he has to blink three times in order to reign himself back in. His ability to form coherent sentences right now is about as useful as alphabet soup; he just gives her a jerky nod instead. 

Y/N wipes at his swollen lips with the pad of her thumb, giving his cheek a playful pat. “I’ll see you then, H.” 

Harry can’t tear his eyes away as she leaves, his bedroom door clicking shut behind her, the soft, distant thunk of his front door accompanying the sound a bit later. 

Fuck, that was something is the first comprehensible thought that registers in his mind. 

It was absolutely something and who knows how differently it would have gone if he had admitted giving into the weakness they had both sworn off of. 

That notion haunts him for a while— the idea that he could have driven her away for good if he had confessed that his emotions had bleed through their arrangement. Sure, it had only been this once, but Harry has a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that he’s unlocked a box deep in the back of his skull that won’t easily be chained down again. 

He thinks this over again and again as he prepares his morning meal, the looming uncertainties of it all causing him to check out of reality here and there, resulting in a few burn marks across his hands and two charred waffles in the bin. 

As Harry finally sits down to enjoy the food that had nearly not made it to his plate, he finds himself mentally running through the awkward encounter he and Y/N had faced this morning. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on the expression he had seen crack through her eyes earlier— one that showed she seemed to be feeling the same kind of emotional turmoil he was. It opens too many unanswered questions for their future and he hates himself for being so worried when nothing had truly happened. For all he knows, it could have just been a trick of the sunlight that had been streaming into the room. He’s getting himself out of sorts for nothing. 

However, as he goes in on a forkful of his cinnamon-glazed pastry, one pesky detail suddenly launches him into a coughing fit. 

It was so minuscule he had missed it the first fifty times he had run through the events, but it had decided to prick him in the brain now, the weak dam of reassurance he had built crumbling to ashes.  

After Y/N had woken up, saw what was happening, and their fight had ensued, she had made a comment about how Harry had kissed her forehead. 

On the surface, it had seemed unimportant because yes, that is exactly what he had done. The problem arose when he remembered that she had been dead asleep when he had done that. 

Supposedly.

He had gone to remove his arm from below her body, she had fussed a bit, he had pressed his lips to her forehead to ease her, and she had remained asleep for a while longer until he decided to finish removing his arm. That final motion was what had awoken her.

Supposedly. 

If she had been unconscious the whole time they were cuddling, then how did she know he’d kissed her?

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.IX.ii

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A brand new chapter of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist 💕

Take a look at @gen-syz-art incredible art for this chapter here ✨✨✨ (beware of spoilers)

___________________

Looking for Jaskier takes some time. 

The gardens almost seem even bigger than they were last time, and there are so many different scents that Geralt can’t isolate the one he’s looking for from the rest. 

He could just ask, for in his search he comes across eight different people, and at least one of them should know where Jaskier is, but Geralt makes a point out of finding him on his own. 

It takes him almost an hour to finally come across a willow tree, its long vines falling all the way to the ground like a curtain, and be greeted by Lucio that pokes his nose out of them. 

Stepping inside is like stepping into a sanctuary, into a safe place, completely detached from the outside world. 

The curtain of vines surrounds the tree from all sides, and the sun that breaks through them makes this hidden little world feel even more magical. There’s enough space to fit quite a few people, the willow old and generous, and Geralt thinks that it’s probably the best place to spend long summer days, hiding from the heat and from the outside world in general. 

Jaskier doesn’t notice him at first, too preoccupied with writing something in a notebook he’s got open in his lap, but when Asra perks up to greet the witcher, he raises his head. 

“You found my hiding place,” he smiles, bright as the sun. 

He pats the empty space beside him, and Geralt comes closer before he even thinks about it, getting down into the grass and resting his back against the tree trunk, as well. He tries to get a look at what Jaskier is writing but the younger man hides the notebook from him as soon as he notices.

“Searched the entire garden,” Geralt chuckles in response.  

After an entire day spent in bed and a proper night’s sleep, he feels like himself again, the wounds on his thigh now healing much faster and the pain almost gone. He doesn’t limp as he walks any longer.

“This is one of my favourite places of the entire estate,” Jaskier says, and he’s so torturously-close that Geralt can’t help but lean towards him until their shoulders are pressed together. “If I’m not in the mansion, I’m here.”

He’s got a dark-green chemise on, the sleeves embroidered with gold thread, and every time a ray of the sun catches on it, it shines, and though Geralt himself prefers much more subtle colours and designs, he can’t deny that it looks beautiful. 

 “I can see why,” he nods. “It’s peaceful here.”

Jaskier hums an affirmation, his eyes closed blissfully. Geralt still can’t quite get used to just how relaxed he is in his presence, how there isn’t even a hint of fear that he is so used to feeling on other people. That almost makes him forget about the world outside the mansion and his role in it. 

He thinks, once again, how when he’s with Jaskier, he can be more than just what his mutations make him.

And then, it finally hits him.

It’s not that he wants to return to the mansion.

It’s that he doesn’t want to leave. 

***

They spend almost half of the day in Jaskier’s little hiding place. 

Jaskier tells him more about his time in the Academy and, when Geralt asks, tells him that though he’s got an honours diploma for all seven liberal arts, his heart and soul have always belonged to poetry and music. When Geralt considers it, he’s almost surprised by just how easy it is to think of Jaskier as a bard. 

Can a prince also be a bard? An illegitimate one probably can. It’s a perfect disguise.

Bard.

It’s easy to refer to him by that name in Geralt’s mind.  

After Jaskier tells him that, he finally lets the witcher see his notebook, filled with poems, neat lines or runes crossed out and then written again over and over. Geralt doesn’t understand much in poetry but the lines that he reads are filled with such emotions that they pull on the strings deep in his heart.

Once he gets to the unfinished poem that Jaskier was working on when he’d found him, Jaskier snatches the notebook from his hands and refuses to give it back, a beautiful shade of red spilling over his cheeks. 

Geralt can’t quite stop himself from reaching out and running his thumb over the soft skin, and before he can pull away, Jaskier intercepts his wrist and tugs him down onto the grass, laughing as Geralt blink in mild confusion, his body suddenly unable to resist, though Jaskier’s strength is nothing compared to his. 

They stay lying side by side in the soft grass for what seems like hours, Jaskier reciting poems and ballads by heart, and Geralt just listening. At some point, he lets himself get convinced - somehow - to also recite something, and he entertains the bard with a highly indecent poem about a farmer’s daughter and a knight that he and his brothers used to giggle over when they were still kids in Kaer Morhen. 

Jaskier plays courtier, gasping at the crudeness, but then breaks into laughter, unable to keep his act up.

He rolls onto his stomach, propping himself up on both elbows to get a proper look at the witcher, and reaches out to brush a stray silver strand away from his face. 

Even if Geralt’s life depended on it, he wouldn't be able to decide whether he likes this quiet comfort or the maddening teasing more. 

And though the knowledge of having to leave in a few days is a constant reminder somewhere in the far corner of his mind, he allows himself - if only for a little while - to put it aside.

***

“Do you want to see the sunset?”

The library is painted gold and scarlet with the light of the setting sun, and the colours play beautifully on the silk of Jaskier’s chemise. 

Geralt doesn’t necessarily want to move, more than comfortable on the soft settee and with Jaskier half-asleep in his arms, but when in the last two months had he been able to say no to this man?

Jaskier’s eyes light up when Geralt hums an affirmation, and the next moment he’s already up on his feet, alerting the dogs napping peacefully on a chair by the window. They jump down onto the rug, ears perked up and tails wagging, feeling Jaskier excitement in his scent the same way that Geralt feels it. 

He lets himself be pulled away from the settee, Jaskier’s warm fingers wrapped around his own, and follows him into the hallway and towards the wide staircase. 

“Come on, we’re going to miss it,” Jaskier urges, adorably impatient. 

Geralt’s healing thigh gives a little stab of protest as they pick up the pace, nearly running up the stairs, but Geralt’s had much worse, so it barely registers with him. 

They make their way up onto the fifth floor and down yet another hallway to the very end of the west wing of the mansion, where Jaskier pushes open the door of a bedroom and they rush inside, towards the balcony doors, the golden light streaming through the glass, nearly blinding. 

Jaskier lets go of Geralt’s hand to push down on both door handles, throwing the arches open, and for a second, the view takes Geralt’s breath away. 

This high up, they can watch the golden disk of the setting sun as it slowly makes it's way down, touching the treetops of the pines in the forest. In the distance, Geralt can see the glimmering ribbon of the river, and all around the mansion, there are valleys of flowers in full bloom. The scent is sweet and heady, almost intoxicating, and Geralt takes in a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand in his chest. 

He steals a look towards Jaskier, who doesn’t seem to notice it, too mesmerised by the golden light. It reflects in his eyes, making them look bottomless. Had their lives been different, Geralt would’ve let himself drown in that depth. 

“Oh, isn’t this just gorgeous?” Jaskier asks in a breathy whisper, never taking his eyes off the horizon. 

Geralt takes a step closer to him without even fully realising. It’s like in the past two days he’d grown so used to having Jaskier in his arms that he can’t keep a distance between them anymore. His scent, his warmth, the feeling of his skin - everything about him is drawing Geralt in, and he’s helpless against it. 

Finally, Jaskier looks away from the setting sun and at Geralt. He keeps their eyes locked for a long moment before his gaze drops to Geralt’s lips, and Geralt can feel his heart skip a beat before picking up its pace. The fire in his chest flares up, so bright that it’s almost painful. 

Jaskier takes a step towards him, suddenly so close that all Geralt needs to do is dip his head, and he’ll finally learn what his lips taste like. He holds himself back with all the self-control he’s got but it’s running out fast. He knows that this will make everything worse, that it will make leaving more painful for both of them, but he still desperately hopes that Jaskier would close in that remaining distance between them. 

Because then, maybe, it would be easier to justify Geralt’s absolute powerlessness against him. 

Without it fully registering with him, Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s waist, holding him close, the bard’s breath ghosting over his lips. 

The moment seems to last forever, Geralt’s self-control cracking and breaking like porcelain, but just before he can make the mistake that he so longs for, Jaskier presses his fingers to the witcher’s lips, creating a barrier, and leaves a kiss over them, laughing as he breaks away. 

Geralt fails to bite back a low growl, disenchantment curling into a ball in his chest like a small animal, its little claws digging deep into his heart. 

And still, despite himself, he cannot hold all these torturous little games against Jaskier.

“Is that blush I see on your cheeks, my darling?” Jaskier murmurs, jumping up to sit on the bannister.

Instinctively, Geralt holds him tighter, unwilling to risk his safety. 

“You’ll fall if you’re not careful,” he says flatly, ignoring the question. 

They’re still so unbearably close, and Geralt can’t deny himself the pleasure of bringing his other hand up to rest it on Jaskier’s thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh just enough for it to be justified as him making sure the bard is safe. 

Jaskier doesn’t make any move to get away from the touch, and when Geralt runs his thumb over the inner side of his thigh, his lips part on a soft little gasp. 

It’s impossible not to think about the bed back in the room. About just how easy it would be to lift Jaskier up and carry him to it, lay him down onto the silk and velvet, biting marks into his neck. Impossible not to imagine all the sweet little sounds he would make.

Up on the bannister, Jaskier is higher than him, and when he reaches to tip Geralt’s chin up, there isn’t much he can do but comply. 

“What do you want, Witcher?” Jaskier murmurs, his ankles locking behind Geralt’s back to keep him close. 

Standing between his spread knees is just more than Geralt can take, and he tightens his grip on the bard’s thigh to keep himself grounded. Knowing that there are going to be bruises left, and Jaskier is going to have his skin painted with them for days, marked and claimed, does absolutely nothing to help the situation. 

“I want you to stop putting yourself in danger,” Geralt growls, low and impatient, almost threatening. 

He’s referring to much more than just sitting on the bannister, a five-floor drop on the other side, and they both know it very well.

Jaskier’s scent spikes up with sweet, heady notes of arousal even as he hisses at the tight grip on his thigh. Geralt bites his tongue painfully not no lean in and nose at Jaskier’s neck, right under the jaw, where that scent is the strongest. If he does, he won’t be able to hold back anymore.    

Jaskier’s eyes light up with a spark of mischief, almost a challenge, and it only takes him one perfectly calculated move to twist out of Geralt’s grip, standing up on the bannister and laughing victoriously. 

Geralt’s heart drops at the sight, and he grabs Jaskier’s hand tightly, ensuring his balance. The bannister isn’t necessarily narrow, Jaskier could probably lie down on it if he wanted to, but he could still slip, and that is not a risk that Geralt is willing to take. 

The fire in his chest gives way to the rush of adrenaline, and he sighs deeply, calming himself down. 

This is going to be the death of him. 

“I’m putting myself in danger,” Jaskier grins, walking the length of the bannister in theatrically slow steps, his hand still in Geralt’s tight grip. “What are you going to do about it?”

Oh, there are so many things Geralt could do about it. 

In his imagination, he presses Jaskier up against the wall of the balcony, bites into his lips, parting them with his tongue. He sucks marks and bruising kisses into his neck, the skin there so flawlessly smooth that the love-bites stand out like blood-red flowers against it. He leads Jaskier back inside, pulls him down onto the bed, undoing the intricate lacing and buttons of his clothes. 

He takes him apart with hands and lips, drinking in every little whimper and moan, until Jaskier is trembling and gasping, and does it all over again. 

But none of that can go further than his imagination. 

So instead, he just yanks Jaskier towards him, catching him before he falls, and grins to himself at the way that he yelps in surprise. A small but pleasant victory.   

“Balcony bannisters are no place for a prince,” Geralt murmurs, and the last word just slips. 

He bites his tongue way too late, never having meant to say it out loud, to admit - so incautiously and foolishly - that that is what he’d somehow grow to think of Jaskier as. If it’s not true, then he’s just childish for believing something he’d heard in a nearby town, and if it is true… then I can turn out to bear far worse consequences, for both of them. An illegitimate prince hidden in a giant mansion in the middle of nowhere is unlikely to afford for his identity to be known. And the King certainly doesn’t. 

For a long moment, Geralt feels like he can barely breathe, waiting for a reaction, but Jaskier just gives him a long, slightly puzzled look that could mean just about anything, and, finally, gives him a charming smile. 

“You’re right,” he says. “It is no place for a prince.”

 ***

The three days after that go by in relative peace. 

They spend most of the time in the gardens or in the library, reading, talking or just being in each other’s presence, even if neither says a word. 

Jaskier decides, at one point, to give the cooks a day off and take over the kitchen, entrusting Geralt with the venison brought in by his hunters earlier in the day, while he’s busy with herbs and vegetables. Geralt doesn’t really protest, used to helping out in the kitchen in Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier does look ridiculously good in an apron. He does turn out to be rather bossy in the kitchen but Geralt fails to find it in himself to mind. 

They play with the dogs, both Asra and Lucio now used enough to the witcher to trust him, napping with their heads in his lap whenever Jaskier’s is unavailable. They’re just as unafraid of Geralt as their owner, and for Geralt, who is used to animals hissing and growling at him, it’s almost touching. 

At night, if the sky is clear, Jaskier lures Geralt out into the gardens to lie down in the grass and watch the endless stars shimmer in the sky. He remembers a lot of astronomy from the Academy, and tells Geralt about the constellations high above, as well as making up his own ones based on what he sees in the sky. 

It gets cold at night, and he keeps close to Geralt, safe and warm under their shared cloak. Geralt keeps an arm around him and presses his cold nose to his temple every now and then to make the bard giggle. 

Jaskier almost kisses him more times than Geralt would be able to count, but each time he breaks away, laughing and leaving him with nothing. Geralt knows that he’s just waiting for him to break first, and it takes him everything he’s got not to. 

A couple of times he comes very close to pushing Jaskier up against the nearest wall, for he never stops his torturous teasing, but on some level, he almost enjoys this inability to have him, because though the fire in his chest can grow painfully hot, no-one’s ever made him feel like this. 

It helps, in a way, that Jaskier is always hearing his intricately embroidered shirts with sleeves that cinch in on his wrists and high collars that keep most of his skin hidden, because Geralt isn’t sure that he’d able to think about anything other than the marks that he could leave on that skin had it been any other way. 

And that… well, that ends up playing against him. 

It’s his sixth morning in the mansion - the second to last, he tells himself repeatedly - when he fails to find Jaskier in any of the places that they would usually spend the morning in. 

The first place that Geralt searches through is the downstairs library that seems to be Jaskier's favourite room of the mansion. There are books that they’ve left behind the night before, pieces of parchment all over the table, and Jaskier’s cloak but no sign of the bard himself.

When Geralt doesn't find him there, and then in the gardens, and then in the smaller library upstairs, there is no other place that he can think of other than Jaskier's bedroom. It's still relatively early in the morning, and maybe he's too unwilling to get out of bed just yet, warmed by both Asra and Lucio. 

Reluctantly, Geralt makes his way up to the last floor and to the door of Jaskier's bedroom. He'd never been inside, and for some reason, it feels unnerving. All the time that he’d spent in the mansion, he’d only been on the fifth floor twice: first when Jaskier was giving him a general tour, and then when they rushed to the balcony to watch the sunset. 

Jaskier’s rooms have remained something almost forbidden, a place where Jaskier would disappear to at night and then leave in the morning. Something private, sealed off to all guests.

After standing outside the door for a few long moments, Geralt knocks, expecting to hear the now-familiar tap-tap-tap of the dogs' claws along the floor because they're always the first ones to check, but gets no answer. 

Feeling like he shouldn't be doing this, he tests the door handle, and it turns with no resistance. 

The bedroom is just as big as he'd imagined, with a canopy bed lined with wine-red velvet and arch windows that let through the soft morning light. There are large paintings in golden frames hung on the walls, stacks of parchment and books on the table by one of the windows, a chandelier for what must be a hundred candles on the high ceiling. 

It’s a gorgeous room. 

But right now, Geralt can't quite concentrate on any of that, because all he can look at is the open door to the bathroom in the far end of the room. He can hear water splashing softly and then Jaskier's footsteps that he'd grown to recognise among all others. 

His throat suddenly feels very dry, and he can't bring himself to say something, nor can he turn around and leave, giving the younger man his privacy. Instead, he just stands and watches, waiting for... he doesn't even know what, exactly. 

Jaskier stays out of his field of vision for some time, murmuring some song under his breath, and when Geralt does finally see him, he's got his back to him, a silk dressing gown flowing down his body in waves. 

For reasons that Geralt can only assume to be cruel fate, Jaskier keeps his robe off his shoulders, just a little above the line of his elbows, like a voluminous shawl. It covers his arms below the elbows, his lower back and his legs, providing some modesty, but after only seeing Jaskier in his silk shirts, barely any open skin, Geralt feels like all air had been sucked out of his lungs.

The half-discarded dressing gown provides Geralt with a perfect view of Jaskier's neck and shoulders, drops of water still shining on his beautiful pale skin, of the curve of his spine and the lines of his shoulder blades that Geralt wishes he could follow with his lips and fingertips. 

He can see the soft outlines of muscles, the little birthmark just above Jaskier’s right shoulder blade, just a few tones darker than his overall pale skin, the thin white scar on the curve of his left shoulder.

And there's something else, too. Something Geralt didn't expect but that looks so elegant on Jaskier's body that it causes little to no resonance in the witcher. 

Right between Jaskier's shoulder blades, perfectly centred, his skin is adorned with a delicate, geometric design. It looks like white ink, just brighter, standing out against the skin, almost glowing in the low candlelight of the bathroom, and though Geralt's never seen anything like that before, it looks beautiful. 

He'd only seen tattoos on Skellige and in Novigrad, but this one is so starkly different from all of those, so delicate and precise, that it feels like it doesn’t even belong to this realm. Unusual that a member of the royal family - legitimate or not - would have something like this but perhaps this is exactly what marks him as one? Hidden under all that silk, Geralt never would’ve known he had it if he hadn't seen it now. So how can he assume that other members of the ruling family don’t have one?

It’s way too late when it registers with him that he’d crossed the room already and is now only a few steps shy of the open bathroom door, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier. 

Jaskier, on the other hand, seems completely aware of his presence. 

“Did you want something?” he murmurs, completely unfazed as he brushes past Geralt and into the bedroom. 

His hair is still wet from his bath, falling into his face in loose locks, the smell of pomegranate sweet and heady in the air, almost making Geralt’s head spin. 

Jaskier’s collarbones are a sharp outline, the delicate skin stretched tight over them, and though Geralt’s always had a thing for it, he can feel a sharp spasm of pure lust somewhere deep in his abdomen from just how bad he wants to bite into them. 

Without fully thinking his actions through, he catches Jaskier’s wrist and turns him around, so they’re face to face again. Jaskier gasps but doesn’t resist, his cornflower-blue eyes snapping up to meet Geralt’s.

His bare chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths, like he’s completely unbothered by the state he’s in, by Geralt seeing him like this. 

“I was wondering if you were going to let yourself in if I leave the door unlocked,” he murmurs, taking another step towards the witcher, until there is no more space left between them. “If you came looking for me while I was still in the bath, what would you have done?”

He shifts, pressing his hips to Geralt’s thigh, and it resonates through the witcher’s entire body like lightning when he realises that under the thin silk of the dressing gown, Jaskier is completely naked. 

“Would you have helped me with my hair?” the bard goes on, that same intoxicatingly sweet murmur. “Or would you have simply fucked me right there and then?”

And at that, Geralt snaps. 

He grabs Jaskier’s thighs, lifting him from the floor, and sits him down impatiently onto a chest of drawers just behind his back, not even trying to bite back a growl when the bard wraps his legs around his hips, knees spread wide apart. 

His dressing gown has more than enough fabric to keep him covered even like this, but Geralt’s head reels from knowing that it would only take one brush of his fingers to get it out of the way, letting the heavy silk slip down Jaskier’s thigh. 

“You’re killing me,” Geralt growls, low and dangerous, leaning down to Jaskier’s ear, and he shudders in response. 

Jaskier keeps his balance with one hand flat on the polished wood of the chest of drawers, but the other one is in Geralt’s hair almost immediately. He leans in unbearably close, his lips brushing over Geralt’s in a feather-light touch as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“Then make me pay for it.”

At that moment, there is nothing that Geralt wants more than to kiss him, Jaskier’s lips parted and bite-swollen and right there. 

But he’s leaving tomorrow morning.

And so instead of Jaskier’s lips, Geralt bites into his neck. He sinks his teeth into the tender skin right under the sharp of the bard’s jaw, where his scent is the strongest, and sucks a bruising, blood-red mark into it, making Jaskier arch his back and gasp the witcher’s name. 

Geralt pulls back, for just a second, his gaze fixed on the fresh love-bite, standing out sharply against Jaskier’s pale, smooth skin, untouched by anything or anyone else. He looks owned, claimed, taken. 

But it’s not nearly enough. 

Geralt bites another bruising kiss right next to the first one, pressing his tongue to the fresh mark to both soothe the pain and make Jaskier even more sensitive. And then another one. And then another one.

He loses himself in the feeling of Jaskier’s skin, the sound of his voice, his gasps breaking off into soft whimpers when Geralt bites just a little too hard. In the scent of dried herbs and vanilla and pomegranate, only made sweeter by the intoxicating sweetness of lust. 

Geralt leaves a scattered pattern of love-bites all the way down Jaskier’s neck, sucks three marks onto his collarbones, growling with pleasure, and he’s more than sure that there are going to be fresh bruises on the bard’s thighs from just how tight he’s still holding him.

Jaskier keeps him close with his ankles clasped behind Geralt’s back, his breathing deep and fast like he can’t get enough air. He looks unbearably gorgeous like this. 

Geralt’s mind is hazy with lust and pleasure, his cock hard and throbbing under the now painfully-tight leather of his trousers, and he doesn’t have to look to know that Jaskier is in the same state. His scent tells him everything he needs to know. 

And it would be so easy, so fucking easy to just carry Jaskier over to the bed, undo the belt holding his dressing gown closed, and fuck him, tearing more of those beautiful whimpers from his chest. 

But that would be a far greater mistake than the one that Geralt has already made. 

He takes in as deep of a breath as his lungs allow him, and takes a step back, pressing one last desperate kiss to Jaskier’s neck, now covered in his marks. 

Geralt doesn’t have anything to say for himself, but he doesn’t have to, for after just a few seconds of catching his breath, Jaskier grins at him victoriously, like it’s all a part of his little game and he’s not affected by it in the slightest. 

“I’ll take that as the answer to the question of whether or not you would’ve fucked me if you’d gotten here a little sooner,” he murmurs. 

Geralt doesn’t try to stop him when Jaskier jumps down from the dresser, adjusting the folds of his dressing gown. It’s more than hard to keep a hold on his self-control, and he fears that any touch could send it all to hell. 

His heart is beating fast and hard in his chest, and he’s still painfully hard, but it brings him a sense of possessive satisfaction to see Jaskier’s neck and collarbones marked with his teeth. Those love-bites won’t fully fade for more than a week. 

“Now, if you don’t have the intention of undressing me, I need to change,” Jaskier says, walking over to the wardrobes in the opposite corner.

Geralt watches his every move, still standing by the chest of drawers, not willing to risk it and close in the distance between them again. He wants to ask about the symbol on Jaskier’s back but it seems unfitting to bring that up now. 

Jaskier picks out his clothes and takes them out of the wardrobe, already reaching for the belt on his dressing gown when he seems to notice Geralt’s gaze.

“I’m not giving you easy ways out, Witcher,” he grins, even as the belt starts to slowly give way. “Turn around.”

He clicks his tongue, and from somewhere under the furs and pillows on the bed, emerges Lucio that Geralt had not noticed before. Jaskier whistles to him and, when the dog jumps down from the bed to sit next to him, indicates at Geralt with a move of his head.

“Ambush, Lucio,” he says, never breaking eye contact with Geralt. “He’s a purebred hunting dog, Witcher. If you move as much as a fraction, he will let me know. Now turn around.”

For a lack of a better option, Geralt does. 

He can hear the dressing gown fall to the floor in a soft whisper of silk, and knowing that Jaskier is right behind his back, completely naked and covered in his marks is making it hard to breathe. But Geralt can feel Lucio’s razor-sharp attention on him, and he knows that if he tries to get even the smallest look, Jaskier will immediately know about it, and the entire little game is going to be ruined. 

No, he stays with his back to Jaskier the entire time he’s changing, forced to listen to his own quickened heartbeat, and it seems like an eternity has passed until Jaskier revokes his command and Lucio loses all interest in the witcher. 

When Geralt finally turns around, he finds Jaskier wearing a black chemise with blood-red rose petals embroidered into the sleeves, the colour matching the love-bites on his neck almost perfectly. 

Geralt hasn’t told him yet that he’s leaving tomorrow.

But gods, he’s going to miss him.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 3 - Zombie Apocalypse

The story continues. At least one more part in the zombie world before moving on to the next one. 

Part 1 / Part 2 Linked here. (If I get to 5 pts or so I’ll make a master post)

Enjoy!

_____________________________

“Why’d they let YOU in?”

An angry shout stopped us in our tracks as we reached the center of the camp.

I paused, smiling. Ah, the nostalgic smell of unnecessary internal strife. NOW it feels like a proper post apocalyptic story.  I raised a hand in greeting. “Hey there, kind and pleasant person, I’m Blaire!”

“Don’t pretend like we’re friends! You shouldn’t be here!”  The angry young man stepped closer, allowing me to get a better look at his face. His copper colored hair framed sharp, angular features, his brown eyes practically burning with rage as he tried his best to stare a hole through me. 

He seems familiar. 

Searching my character’s memories, I was finally able to place him.  Jason, the hero’s best friend, who had gone to high school with my character. Before I could celebrate placing his identity, however,  I felt a surge of deep terror flood through me. My heart beat wildly in my chest, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I frowned, pushing back the feeling that weren’t my own, but those from my character.

It’s rare for emotions from the character to be this strong, even in the last world I was able to easily put away any feelings of the character I’ve taken over. Why is she so scared? I don’t see anything in her memories that would warrant her being frightened of Jason. And why is he so antagonistic towards me?

As I stood there, trying to comb through what information my character knew about him, he had continued to rant. “Eric, what were you thinking accepting people like her?!”

Eric sent Hannah away with a smile, before turning towards his friend with a tired expression. “They have extra supplies and skills, both of which we’re in desperate need of.”

“We don’t need HER!”

As they argued, Liam walked up to me, pulling an apple from his bag. “Want a snack?”

“Sure, these idiots might take a while, I’d hate to get hypoglycemic while they argue.” Before I could say anything further, he pulled out a knife and silently started cutting the peel off.

“What are you doing?”

“Peeling the apple for you.”

“Why?”

“…” He paused, looking honestly confused. “I’m not sure, but I feel like this would make you happy.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head in amazement. “I love apples, but I can’t stand the peel. How did you know?”

“Really?” He grinned, continuing to peel. “My support husband instincts must be kicking in.”

“You’re very… optimistic.”

“Thanks!”

I sighed. “Don’t get attached, Liam. It won’t end well.” I thought of the heart wrenching pain I had felt when pressing “No”  in the last world. That was just after 4 weeks. If I have to stay here years…

“It’s okay. I already count myself fortunate being your lackey.” His smile was bright, but his attention to the apple never wavered. “As long as you live well. I think I could die happy.”

I shuddered. The habit was just too strong. A character casually mentioning dying in a story…such a red flag. “Try not to die. Happy or otherwise.”

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted, his silly expression making me feel less tense. 

“Blaire! I’m talking to you!” Jason had finished arguing with Eric while Liam and I chatted and was obviously still furious.

I felt the same edge of fear from the character at the sight of him again, and pushed it back down with irritation.

“That must be so exhausting to be so angry all the time.”  I muttered quietly as I watched him approach.

Liam nodded. “No kidding. I think I’ll need a nap just from watching him perform.”

Jason stopped just a few feet away, sneering. “I don’t know what lies you sold Eric earlier, but don’t’ forget, I know the real you! You’re a rich brat without any skills! You’re deadweight to any group, just a worthless bit….ARGH!” He flew backwards as a mostly-peeled apple struck him in the mouth, splitting his lip.

“Oops. Sorry did that hit you?” Liam watched him coldly, not sounding sorry at all. “My hands get slippery when I hear pure stupid.”

“Is that why people around you tend to get hit with flying projectiles often?

“It’s a curse…” He paused, then looked mortified. “THAT WAS MY LAST APPLE!”

“It’s okay.”

“WHY DIDN’T I USE A STONE?” He groaned into his hands. “That idiot wasn’t worth losing your snack! Now you’re going to go hungry!”

“I’m fine…” I tried to comfort him, but he had already pulled out a walkie-talkie and was growling instructions in some sort of code.

Jason, on the other hand, was now pointing in shock at Liam. “You! You’re William the destroyer!”

“…” I glanced over at the man who was still panicking over his lack of snack options to offer me.

“What’s the leader of the Blood Wolves doing here?” Jason was now looking nervous, clambering to his feet and keeping a good distance from us both

Liam ignored him, continuing to talk on his walkie talkie. Shaking my head, I stepped in between him. “He’s with me. Do you really want to argue now about whether or not we should be here?”

“But… but…”

“Jason!” Eric had returned, a grim look on his face. “I told you to leave them alone. We’ll go out hunting for supplies tomorrow, they can prove their worth then.”

Jason’s expression showed his clear unwillingness, but he slowly nodded. “Sure.” Glancing towards me, he sneered. “Then I guess tomorrow we’ll see just how useless you are.”

“Did I step on your dog or something? Seriously, try to reign in the hostility there, buddy.”  With that, I turned and walked towards the empty tent Eric had pointed out earlier. 

Despite my casual tone and outer appearance, my hands were clenched at my sides, the fingernails digging into my palms to keep my hands from shaking. My back was soaked with sweat, an uncontrollable reaction from the character I had become.

What is going on? It had been a long timesince I had been unable to fully control my character’s emotions like this. I swallowed uncomfortably. The sensation  was unpleasant, a sense of incongruity between body and soul that I couldn’t quite overcome. It reminded me too much of the first mission I had undergone, the worst time of my life that I could still remember.

Waking up without memories, with no idea of who I was or why I was there, thrust into a romantic drama where my mission was to fulfill the role of a foolish, calculating villainous side character. Overwhelmed by intense love for the male lead and mind-numbing hatred for his heroine, I lost myself in despair. Later, I would learn to maintain my sense of identity. Even if I didn’t know who I was, I at least knew who I wasn’t.

And I wasn’t this character. A spoiled, angry young woman who thought the world revolved around her.

So why can’t I remember clearly? Not just Jason, even the events surrounding my character’s kidnapping and death were vague.

Something’s wrong with this world.

Sitting down with a sigh, I pulled out my phone.

“Let’s see how helpful this new ‘character description’ function is.” I typed in Jason’s name. After a moment to process, the phone’s screen filled with text.

Jason, the hero’s best friend and this world’s hopeless secondary male lead. In the story, he is shown to be in love with Hannah, but hides his feelings for fear of hurting his friends. He often supports her from behind, helping the hero rescue her during her frequent misadventures and kidnappings. Despite his devoted acts, Hannah remains blissfully unaware of his feelings, and treats him as a friend.

Nothing to explain why my character is scared of him. I grinned maliciously as I re-read the part about his unrequited love. “No wonder he’s so high strung. If he were nicer I might even feel sorry for him.”

Unable to control my curiosity, I typed in a second name.

“William.”

Character unknown.

“Hmm. Let’s try ‘Liam.’”

Character unknown.

“Blood Wolves.”

The most notorious and highly skilled gang in this story’s world, they often sell their services as mercenaries, and are considered a major power in the post-apocalyptic society.

I stared at the screen, even more confused. Such an important group, but the leader isn’t mentioned? Who is Liam?

But no matter how much I searched, there were no answers.

_____________________________

Shortly later, Liam called me out.  The smell of freshly cooked food hastened my steps, and I sat at a table across from Hannah, ignoring her wide-eyed look of fear at my approach.

“The others are checking the perimeter. Here, I made you dinner!” Liam placed a bowl in front of both of us with a proud grin. It was filled with a stew, with vegetables and chicken. Hannah stared at the food suspiciously, although I didn’t see anything wrong with the food. Carefully, I lifted a spoonful up to my mouth, my eyes widening with shock.

“It’s delicious!”  I took another few bites before pausing. “Where did you get the ingredients?”

Liam sat down next to me, peeling an apple with an affectionate grin. “My friends happened to have gathered some extra supplies and brought them over.”

“… You sent the Blood Wolves on a snack run?”

“What were they supposed to do? Let you go hungry?” He raised an eyebrow.  “They wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I don’t know how you manage to sound so supportive and yet so… ominous at the same time.”

“It’s one of my many talents, I’m so glad you noticed!”

Hannah watched our exchange back and forth, before looking down at the food once more. She seemed very hungry, but she still hadn’t made any moves towards eating.

“You should try it, it tastes really good!” As I coaxed the girl sitting across from me, I saw Liam beaming with pride.

“…” She stared silently at us both for a long few moments before nodding and taking a bite, her hands shaking and almost spilling the stew from her spoon. As she swallowed the food however, her eyes filled with tears.

Why do all the heroine’s I meet cry so easily? Maybe the problem is with me? Do I just not cry enough?

“It tastes so good!” She ate quickly, blinking to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Oh… so… happy tears? That’s refreshing. I patted her on the shoulder gently. “Not had a lot of hot meals lately, huh?”

Hannah nodded at my sympathetic words. “Yeah, Eric and James are too busy with security and supply runs. And I…” Her words trailed off.

Why hello there, mission opportunity!I rejoiced inwardly but kept a gentle look on my face.  “You what?”

“I’m weak… I can’t fight. I can’t even cook.” She looked up at me her eyes still wet with unshed tears. “I wish I could be scary like you…”

… Scary?

Liam laughed at my dumbfounded expression, quickly silencing himself as I turned to glare at him. Looking back over at Hannah, I tried to smile comfortingly, the expression stiffening as a look of terror flashed across her face.

“You want to be a well-rounded useful person? I can help you.” Not like I have a choice.

“Really?” Hannah clasped her hands together in front of her. She still looked frightened, but excitement was clearly pushing back her fear. “I really want to be helpful!”

“Really. Just come watch me tomorrow during the outing. I’ll show you what I can do. From there, we’ll come up with a plan.”

She now was smiling brightly, giving off the impression of a small, adorable animal that should be protected. “I promise I’ll work hard, Boss!”

She trusts me so quickly… no wonder she kept getting kidnapped. 

“Wait... Did you just call me Boss…?”

“One day, I pray I can be just as terrifying as you!” Hannah cheered excitedly. 

“…”

I feel like her motivation has gone in a weird direction.

As I struggled on how to answer her, Liam nodded solemnly. “It’s good to have goals, but you shouldn’t aim too high.” He handed me the freshly peeled apple, and continued. “No one’s as terrifying as your Boss. But with hard work and effort, one day, you can reach ‘lackey status’ like me!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” The two high-fived as I watched on silently, feeling tired.

“… I’m going to bed.”

_____________________________

The next morning, we all headed out, running into a group of zombies, almost immediately.  We halted a good distance away to discuss a plan.

“Will it be okay?” Hannah’s face looked extremely nervous as she looked at the zombies in the distance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!” Jason smiled at Hannah, his eyes full of tender emotion.  “I promise, as long as I have breath in my body, no zombie will get near you.”

I still felt a small thread of fear running through me as I looked at him, but fortunately, it was much easier to control now. I rolled my eyes at his words. Didn’t the character summary say hehides his feelings? How is this subtle at all?

Eric stared at his friend silently for a moment, and then patted Hannah’s head with a sigh. “Make sure to stay away from the fight.” Loading up a handgun, he glanced over at me. “Are you coming?”

“Ha, bet you’re gonna run and hide, huh?” Jason glared at me, his face looking extremely punchable, forcing me to hold back.  

I sighed, admiring my self –restraint. “I’ll take the ten on the right.”

“There’s only fifteen!”

“Yeah, so we’ll split it by skill.” I turned back and grinned. “Ten for me, four for Eric and one for you.”

Pulling out my sword, I headed over, ignoring his stuttered complaints.

GRRRR.

The closest of the zombies was reaching out towards my head, several fingers missing from its hands, its half rotten jaw open, ready to bite.

I lopped it head off, knocking the body away from me.

IT SMELLS SO BAD!!! I had only been able to wash in cold water from a basin. I still desperately missed hot showers.

“Go Boss!”

“Yeah! Kill the zombies! You’re the best!”

Shouts from behind me caught my attention. After killing several more zombies I glanced over, giving out a loud sigh at the sight.

Liam and Hannah cheered off to the side, jumping up and down with excitement.

“Zombies don’t stand a chance against her!”

“Yeah! They’re toast!”

… I’m just going to ignore them for now.

In the corner of my eye I saw Jason struggling to defeat his first zombie, waving a metal bat but missing several passes. He backed up, putting some distance between him and his foe, and turned to stare longingly at Hannah for a few moments, before looking over to glare at me as he realized who she was cheering for. I smiled and winked, watching with interest as his face turned even redder with rage.

Feeling an undeniable urge to taunt, I called out to him as I continued to decapitate zombies.

“Don’t lose focus, little Jason! Or do you need me to help you with your one zombie too?”

“SHUT UP!”

“Try not to bully him, please.” Eric called out as he calmly dodged attacks, occasional shots ringing out. Each was a perfect headshot, as expected of the hero of an action novel. “Jason is sensitive to criticism.”

I nodded, kicking a zombie head into the air and batting it away with my sword, watching it sail away with interest. “Sorry, I’ll try harder to support his emotional well being.”

“Thanks!”

Having finished off our respective zombies, Eric and I high fived before heading back towards the rest of the group.

“Guys… I’m still fighting here!” Jason’s helpless cries caused me to pause.

I glanced at Eric “Will he be okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just milking it so Hannah will pay more attention to him.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Eric shrugged. “Not really, but he doesn’t step over the line and extra hands are necessary, so I just ignore it.”

Is this a… reasonable male lead? Could it be possible?

“Okay, then.” I raised a hand, not turning around. “Good luck Jason, we believe in you!”

Eric grinned and called out behind him. “See you back in camp, buddy!”

“Boss!” Hannah ran up with a grin. “That was amazing!”

Liam stepped closer, handing me a thermos with hot tea. “I told you she was awesome! She saved my life, you know.”

I ignored him, turning my attention to Hannah. Time to make some progress on this mission. “Did what you see today inspire you?”

“Yeah!”

“Do you want to be helpful?”

“Yeah!”

Getting excited, I pumped a fist into the air. “You want to be strong and fight along side me?!”

“…” Hannah stared at me in shock. “What? No. Fight zombies? It’s scary… and kind of gross.”

I looked at her silently. “I… thought you were inspired?”

“Yeah! But not like that.” She nodded firmly. “I realized I was too eager when I wanted to be as terrifying as you…”

“HEY!”

“So I’ve decided.” She grinned. “I’m going to be a professional lackey, just like Liam!”

“…”

“…”

Eric and I sighed in unison.

Liam smiled, patting Hannah on the shoulder. “Now don’t look down on us weak and vulnerable support spouses!”

“You’re not even weak…and we’re not married...”

“We may depend on our stronger counterparts to protect our lives, but we can keep everything running smoothly so you don’t have to worry about anything else.” He looked at me expectantly. “How is your tea?”

Giving up on arguing, I sipped it, and paused, shocked. “It’s… amazing. How did you even make hot tea out here?”

“It’s a trade secret.” Hannah and Liam gave each other a thumbs up, as Hannah handed Liam a thermos, which he drank from silently.

We headed back to camp.

“I feel like we’re forgetting something.” I muttered as I sipped my tea.

“GUYS? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!! I’m STILL FIGHTING!” Jason’s angry shriek pierced the air, but no one turned around.

“I know what it is!” Liam grinned, cleaning one of my hands with a warm towel before handing me a freshly peeled apple. “Here, snack!”

“HANNAH? ERIC? ANYONE?”

I nodded, taking a bite. “That must have been it.”

_____________________________

A few days passed.

I tried again to convince Hannah to train to fight, thinking that combat skills would be the fastest way to  change her status as kidnappable dead weight.  After much convincing, she agreed to start training with me.

Unfortunately, the results were not what I had hoped for.

“OWW!” Hannah laid on the ground, staring up at me sadly. “I’m dying.”

“All I did was have you hold my sword. We haven’t even started fighting yet.”

“It hurts.”

“How did you even hurt yourself?” I stared at the small cut on her leg in consternation. “You only had the sword for fifteen seconds?”

Needless to say, the sword was confiscated. Strengthening exercises were meant with similar outcomes.

“How’s it going?” Liam brought me a bowl of hot soup, as I stared in disbelief at the figure attempting to do a pushup in front of me.

I pulled out my phone, glancing at the mission screen. The first completion bar for Hannah’s mission had been stuck at 10% since we started. “Not good. This is still her first push up.”

“Well, everyone takes a different amount of time…”

“We’ve been out here four hours.”

“Oh… how’s the soup?”

I sighed, taking time to try it. “It’s amazing. I’m still convinced you might be magic to be able to cook like this in the apocalypse.”

“This is just the beginning of my skills!”

I drank the soup quietly, staring at Liam while thinking.

“What is it?” He grinned. “You think I’m handsome and finally want to upgrade me from lackey to support spouse?”

“Who are you?”

My question was whispered, but he still heard it, a look of helplessness spreading across his face. This wasn’t the first time I had asked him this.

“I’ve told you everything, Blaire. I swear I’m not hiding anything from you.”

“You’ve told me everything you’ve remembered.” I corrected him quietly, turning away. Focusing my attention back on Hannah, I couldn’t help but feel discouraged. “This isn’t going to work.”

“You said you’re trying to make her a well-rounded, useful person, right?” Liam finally spoke up, his expression thoughtful. “You might be pushing her in the wrong direction. There are many different ways to help out, fighting is just one of them.”

“Yeah… but that’s what I’m good at.” I rubbed my head. “If I have to teach her other skills, I might not be able to.”

I had memories from multiple story worlds, but most of them required me to act as a brain dead villain, not staying long. Only a few provided practical skills such as the assassin guild story.  A sense of frustration filled me.  

“I can teach her cooking, supply management, and basic book-keeping.”  Liam watched me, seemingly worried. “And you can teach her your special skill.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Negotiation.” He grinned. “It’s amazing to watch you reduce that idiot Jason to an apoplectic fit every time you argue.”

I thought it over, a small return smile forming on my face. “I guess I have developed some good interpersonal skills. I once helped my brother overcome an obsession with behavior modification training.”

“You have a brother?” He asked, his eyes widening.

“In a different life.” I felt a pang of loneliness for the time I had spent in the previous world. I wondered if Adam was doing well. Looking back at Liam, I reached over and patted him on the head.

“I’m glad you’re here.” That I got to see you again. Even if you look different. Even if you don’t remember me.

Liam froze with shock at my touch for a few moments, before his face lit up with delight. “I’m glad I’m here too!”

I looked back down at Hannah, who still hadn’t completed her first push up. “Let’s go with your plan.”

Scratching the plan to make the heroine a one woman army, it was time to make her into an overpowered support character.

[leviathanswingman]

love is a losing game, chapter 7: tripping over skeletons

The exact same day he had his one on one with Lucifer, Barbatos called a last minute student council meeting. Despite everything, it was his duty to inform the other demons of the fact that they had to be careful when in contact with each other. Here at RAD they generally handled cases like these through meetings to ensure that the person in question's privacy wouldn't be invaded. If they wanted to, they would have the opportunity to reveal themselves near the end of the meeting.

„Welcome,“ Barbatos started. „I apologize for calling in a meeting at such short notice. However, I have been made aware of the fact that one of the demons amongst our midsts has been put on magical medication. Therefore, I would like to remind all of you to be cautious around each other.“

The room quickly filled with quiet whispers. Diavolo, who had been standing next to Lucifer in silence for a while, bumped shoulders with Lucifer who refused to jump in surprise. „Did you know about this?“ he whispered and Lucifer shook his head, his lips pressed together in a straight line.

It was almost impossible to lie to Diavolo, the demon could always tell whenever someone was trying to deceive him with their words, so begrudgingly Lucifer resorted to lying by omission instead.

Lying to Diavolo He hated having to do it, but in the end, what other choice did he have? Confess that his loyalty had been exposed as undeniable enamoredness in the course of one night? Certainly not.

„You know better than to talk during meetings,“ he whispered back sternly as he threw Diavolo a side glance.

Right, he realized. This was the first actual conversation they'd had in days. Was this what their relationship had turned into?

As the murmurs quieted down again Barbatos continued. „There is no need to panic. Keep a close eye on each other and if you notice anyone acting out in a suspicious manner please send them to me. I would now like to ask if the person in question would like to reveal themselves to make things easier for all of us.“

Lucifer crossed his arms and let his gaze wander across a room that was once again clad in complete silence, faking interest. His eyes locked with Barbatos' for a moment and suspecting the question on the other demon's mind, Lucifer shook his head ever so slightly, only for Barbatos' eyes to see. There was no way he would reveal his current weakness to the entire student council, his brothers included, and Lucifer was certain Barbatos was ever so aware of that fact. Still, he had quietly asked again, a simple plead for some common sense.

A minute or so passed.

“Alright, then,” Barbatos concluded. “I suppose there's nothing else of importance, so this concludes the end of tonight's meeting. Remain safe.”

As soon as Barbatos had ended the meeting absolute pandemonium broke loose. After all, there weren't too many ailments which required a demon to take magic induced medicine, more commonly known as MagiMeds™ . So of course, everyone started to debate on what might be the reason for it almost immediately.

Lucifer took note from afar of how his brothers huddled up in a big pile of conspiracy. As usual, he found himself disappointed yet not surprised and had to physically restrain himself from chewing them out. However, he couldn't afford to look too eager since right now, everyone was looking at each other with a certain sense of suspicion. So Lucifer rolled his shoulders back, taking satisfaction in the small crack he heard, and remained right in place.

He turned to Diavolo and sighed. “How truly troublesome,” he remarked.

“Indeed,” Diavolo answered, his eyes fixed to the ground. There was a strange silence between them for a moment. “It's been a while since the last one,” he eventually said.

“You are right.”

Thankfully, Barbatos approached them just then. “Young Master, Lucifer. How do you fare? Excuse me for not notifying you earlier about this issue, but I was fairly preoccupied.”

The arrival of Barbatos thankfully took care of the awkward air that had been threatening to suffocate Diavolo and Lucifer.

The demon prince cleared his throat. “Well, hello Barbatos. What an interesting course of events. I have already talked to Lucifer about this just now, but it has been quite the while since we've had an incident like this one. I know it's not really my place to ask, but would you mind telling me what kind of MagiMeds we are talking about here? Diavolo chuckled lightly. “You can't blame me for being curious! Please?”

For a moment Barbatos seemed to mull it over.  His eyes wandered inconspicuously over to Lucifer, who let out the smallest of sighs before blinking once ever so slowly, a sign for only Barbatos to see.

Lucifer didn't see any reason as to why this should be kept from Diavolo. As long as his own name remained at a comfortable distance from the topic, it was alright to indulge Diavolo for once.

After all, if something managed to catch Diavolo's attention, there was no keeping him away from it. Diavolo would hold onto it tightly and refuse let go of it before he had gathered every single piece of information he could find on it. He was curious to a fault.

“Alright, my lord, but I shan't reveal anything more. You know I prefer to remain quite professional.”

Diavolo's eyes lit up like fairy lights and he grabbed Barbatos' hands in all of his excited glory.

Without any warning, Lucifer felt a stabbing pain run through the back of his neck. Reflexively, his hand shot upwards.

Barbatos mustered Lucifer with a knowing expression as he gently removed Diavolo's hands from his own. “Alright, my lord. It seems the magical medication in question is a special brand of bond-suppressants. A case of unplanned bonding, I have heard.”

Lucifer leaned his back against the table as he watched the interaction before him with intent eyes. Slowly, the pain in the back of his neck simmered down to a dull ache. He let his fingers run over the sigil hidden behind the thin material of his turtleneck, daring enough to trace it-that-shall-not-be-seen right in front of Lord Diavolo himself. If he wasn't so terribly opposed to the word in his own context, Lucifer would almost describe the action as soothing.

He kept his head held high and his nosed turned up as he took in Diavolo's reaction and tried his hardest not to let his perfectly constructed mask of glass fall.

“An unplanned bonding?!” Diavolo exclaimed in outrage. “That can happen?”

Barbatos nodded. “Yes, my lord. In the rarest of cases, when an emotional connection between partners has been denied or ignored for too long, their bodies might act on their own the second they are given the slightest of chances. Say you have two close friends who have denied their feelings for years and suddenly share a deep, meaningful moment. In a case like that there is the possibility their auras will latch onto each other, thus forming an unplanned bond. However, this proves much more difficult than the conscious forming of a bond. After all, if the partners are unaware that they have formed a bond, they will most likely not know to follow the bonding rituals. Side effects such as nausea, headaches and irritability can occur and suppressants will have to be used to deal with those side effects until the bonding rituals are either fulfilled or abandoned until the bond withers and dies on its own.” Barbatos smiled almost sadly. “Oh my, it seems as if I have been going on for quite a while, my apologies.”

Diavolo shook his head. “No, you have been very thankful, Barbatos,” he said as a contemplative look crossed over his face. “But to think that something like that could happen... I feel sorry for our fellow demon who has to suffer from this fate. It sounds lonely,” he said.

For a second Barbatos stayed quiet as he watched his Master while Lucifer pushed himself off the table and joined the conversation.

“It is very you to say that such an experience would be lonely,” he threw in as he approached Diavolo and Barbatos. “I would rather think it a nuisance, having to wait out such pestering symptoms until the bond has finally latched itself off. I do not see how that would be lonely rather than highly bothersome.” His eyebrows were drawn together in what most would interpret as annoyance, but was actually something else entirely.

Although Lucifer had told himself to stay out of the conversation, Diavolo's comment had struck him in a wrong way. Not that it was Diavolo's fault since he was still remaining blissfully unaware of what was going on with Lucifer and inevitably himself. In the end, a sigil would carve itself into Diavolo's skin as well, no matter what. All in all, it was a harsh reminder.

Diavolo smiled, happy to get to talk to Lucifer again like they used to. “That is fairly typical of you to say as well, Lucifer, but come on! Even you would be shaken by something like that!”

Lucifer's jaw was locked tight. He could feel his head brimming with shambled thoughts and his skin itch with a certain irritability.

If Diavolo only knew. With a deep breath Lucifer tried to calm himself down and ignore the way his body practically buzzed with troublesome energy.

“Who knows,” Lucifer eventually answered rather dismissively as his eyes wandered over to Diavolo's face. For a moment their eyes met and in that exact moment, an electric shock ran through his body and his eyes shot open in shock for a moment. Weirdly enough, Diavolo's eyes mirrored the same shock that must have been ever so apparent in Lucifer's eyes.

“Lucifer...” Diavolo eventually started, his hand reaching out towards his trusted right-hand man. The pads of his fingertips just so much as lightly touched Lucifer's cheek before Diavolo pulled his hand back again, suddenly fluttered.

Lucifer thought his heart was about to stop. As soon as Diavolo had come closer to him that strange buzzing feeling in his body had almost come to an overflow. His body felt locked in place and Lucifer hated every second of it.

Luckily, Barbatos had been watching ever so closely and had immediately caught on to what was happening, allowing him to swoop in and help out.

“My Lord, may I remind you, now that the meeting is over, that you are far behind on your paperwork? You wouldn't want to cause Lucifer any more trouble than he already has, am I right in assuming so?”

These few seconds were all Lucifer needed to snap out of it. With Diavolo's attention now on another subject, Lucifer felt his body relax again. The tip of his pointer twitched restlessly and then, as if a flood gate had been opened, his strength returned in a violent rush, shoving Lucifer forward a little.

Inconspicuously, he fixed his posture and put a slight smile on his face as he heard Diavolo whine to Barbatos about his tasks muted in the back.

“I will take my leave now,” he said. “If I slack off today I will fall behind on my paperwork.” He threw Diavolo an apparently stern look. “We don't like falling behind on paperwork now, do we?”

Diavolo visibly slouched down. “But, Lucifer...”

Lucifer lifted his hand to put it on Diavolo's shoulder reassuringly, but stopped himself mid-air as he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat as he let his arm fall back to his side. “Finish your assignments quickly and you are free to do as you please.” After a second, he looked directly into Diavolo's eyes. “Show some restraint and you will be alright,” he mumbled almost quietly before nodding towards Barbatos and Diavolo and heading out.

He left the conference room with quick strides.

Finally left to his own devices, he allowed his thoughts to flow freely. With every step he took he could feel the vibrations of his feet hitting the ground, tingling and buzzing as his heart beat too fast and the nausea returned to his body. Lucifer kept going like that until he found himself safe back in the safety of his own four walls.

He stomped over to his dresser, unlocked the upper drawer and pulled out the orange pill bottle with much force.

During their little talk one thing had become rather obvious to him: One pill wasn't even remotely enough to suppress whatever it was he felt for Diavolo. Truthfully, he felt putting a name on their relationship would cheapen it in its nature, so Lucifer simply refused to. No matter how hard it aggravated him, he couldn't.  

Lucifer shook two pills out into his empty palm and stared them down for a moment. He shouldn't, but for the first time in a long time, his emotions were speaking louder than his words. And that, Lucifer just couldn't agree with.

He threw back both pills at once before heading out of his room. Perhaps he should just go and get some of his work done. Perhaps being productive was exactly what he needed to clear his mind of thoughts of crimson hair and soft fingers on his cheek.

As he was heading towards his study Lucifer slowly felt the suppressants doing their job. The nausea subsided again and the strange buzzing sensation he had felt on his skin had now mostly let up as well. In many ways, he felt better, yet in different ways, he felt worse.

Although by nature, Lucifer was not what most would describe as a warm person, he felt downright chilly to the core. A certain numbness seemed to slowly encase his body and the second Lucifer felt it, he knew he despised it. It felt invasive and wrong.

Still, if those uncomfortable sensations were a necessary step on his way to getting rid of the bond, he had no choice but accepting it.

After all, when it was about the bond, Lucifer had never had a choice to begin with. All he was expected to do was put up with the pain and the discomfort until the bond would inevitably release Diavolo from its suffocating grip.

Lucifer massaged his aching shoulders as he arrived in front of his study, stepped into it and immediately turned up the heating before sitting down to work on some papers. He allowed himself to lose himself within the rhythm and comfort of work for several hours before he heard a slight tapping coming from his door. Confused, he lifted his head and listened. There again, he heard a soft rapping at his door.

“Yes?” he answered, trying not to sound annoyed despite definitely feeling bothered. No answer. Satan and Belphegor were probably trying to prank him again. Not today, Satan, not today.

Lucifer took a deep breath before getting up and ripping the doors open. “WHO-” he started to shout until he saw who the supposed prankster was.

“Diavolo?”

The demon in question was standing next to the door, his hand still resting on the door frame, with an uncharacteristically perplexed expression on his face. “Good... evening?”

Lucifer scrambled to collect himself again. “Excuse me, I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were one of my brothers, I apologize” he offered after the initial surprise and opened the door behind him a bit further in an inviting manner. “I assume you have something to discuss with me?” he asked although the squashed down panic in his heart tried to break through the thick fog of the suppressants. Though normally, having a blank page of emotions was comforting to him, now it instead put him at even more distress. The fact that he could not calculate his own reactions due to the MagiMeds threw Lucifer off.

“Yes, thank you,” Diavolo replied as he followed Lucifer into his study.

Lucifer leaned his back against the mahogany desk and lifted his gaze to match Diavolo's. Diavolo stared back at him, but did not say a word. Eventually, he groaned in frustration and spun around to lean against the desk next to Lucifer, standing shoulder to shoulder. Once again, Lucifer felt Diavolo's warmth heat up the side of his arm in an instant. Only then did he notice how cold his study actually was. The damn heater had stopped working again.

Diavolo took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about Friday night.” He could feel the way Lucifer stiffened besides him.

“Of course,” he said cautiously and almost recognizably uncomfortable. If there was one thing he did not want to talk about, it was Friday night. Lucifer certainly didn't feel like witnessing the exact situation he had avoided to think about for hours upon hours. Still, a part of him felt weirdly unbothered, felt strangely calm despite the situation, almost as if he were floating up on the ceiling, watching himself interact with Diavolo.

“Friday night-”

“You acted out on a whim,” Lucifer interrupted him with his gaze fixed to one of the floor tiles. He could tell the suppressants had fully set in by now, because he felt nothing at all. For a moment Lucifer simply sat there and took in the beating of his heart and the stream of cold air ghosting over his skin, feeling strangely detached. Despite all of his and the suppressants' best efforts to suppress his emotions, there was one undeniable truth.

His body was aching for Diavolo's presence.

If only he had the right to touch him. But could he really allow himself to do just that? Had he not sworn his utmost loyalty to Lord Diavolo? Was him giving in to this shaky bond a betrayal of its own perhaps? Or was him staying quiet about it maybe even more of a betrayal?

Diavolo's shoulder pressing into his own felt good, felt natural. Right now, the feeling of skin against skin stood in stark contrast to Lucifer's emotions, which were buzzing like static on a TV.

Then and there, Lucifer decided to ditch the MagiMeds. What kind of demon would he be if he couldn't withstand a good amount of pain in favour of staying himself instead of a drugged down zombie?

Lucifer didn't find the strength in himself to move away, so he stayed. It was almost as if his body had superglued itself onto Diavolo's, holding onto every sweet second of touch it could get.

“No,” Diavolo suddenly said. “Well, I mean also a bit yes, but. What I wanted to say was...”

“Diavolo,” Lucifer intercepted uncomfortably. “We don't have to talk about this. It's fine.”

Diavolo tapped his thigh in an almost nervous fashion. “No, Lucifer. You deserve better, I really have to apologize.”

Lucifer, if possible, tensed up even more. “Diavolo, you really don't have to-”

There wasn't much to apologize for now, was there? In the end, he had only done something quite normal. Diavolo certainly wasn't the first demon to flee the bed in the wee morning hours and he most definitely wouldn't be the last. Lucifer was the one who felt like he was supposed to apologize, yet found himself unable to do so. After all, how does one apologize for something the other person isn't even aware of just yet?

Diavolo took a deep breath and placed his hands firmly onto Lucifer's shoulders and faced him. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then closed it again only to lick his lips nervously.

Lucifer tried not to stare, but was immediately distracted by the way Diavolo's warm hands felt through the flimsy material of his wine red turtleneck. Ever so unhelpfully, his brain supplied him with flashing images of that night, pulling up memory after memory of Diavolo's fit form in the dark and the way his skin had tasted against his lips.

Finally, Diavolo had gathered himself enough to talk. “What I did to you was cruel. I shouldn't have left like that, but I panicked. You know me better than anybody else and are my closest friend, so how could I not have? Lucifer, we're talking about you here.” Carefully, he reached up towards Lucifer's face and cupped his cheek. “I need you in my life.” The pad of his thumb ran along smooth skin and Lucifer repressed a deep shudder.

Lucifer's body and mind were in a conflicted battle. Although he could feel the indisputable pull his body had towards Diavolo's, the suppressants forced his emotions into an uncomfortable state of insensibility. Despite all of that, Lucifer knew he was a goner, no matter how much he fought against it. He was devoted to the core, no matter how much he got hurt.

“It's alright,” he said as he reached up and placed his hand onto Diavolo's. “You are not to blame.”

For a moment, he felt awkward standing there like that, the two of them all by themselves when Lucifer had sworn to keep his distance. Perhaps this was where his devotion to Diavolo and his own determination inevitably interfered with each other.

Another moment passed before both of them realized what kind of situation they were in. As Lucifer let go of his grip on Diavolo's hand the demon prince retracted his arm to his own side as well.

“Are we good?”

Lucifer shook his head and allowed himself a low chuckle and a moment of sincerity. “Yes, Diavolo. No matter what, I'll always be by your side. I'll always be there, you know that.”

“Lucifer!” Diavolo suddenly exclaimed and threw his arms around Lucifer, who barely managed to refrain from stumbling to the ground. He dug his hands into the fabric of Diavolo's coat so he wouldn't fall to the ground. “I was so worried!”

Lucifer was overly aware of Diavolo's arms, crossed behind his neck, resting upon that cursed sigil. Reassuringly, he patted Diavolo's back as his body was filled with a tingling sensation, starting at the back of his neck and spreading throughout his every limb. Lucifer knew better than to fight it. “You are overreacting.”

Diavolo quickly pulled back and stared at Lucifer. “I am not! You know I don't lie. I would never lie to you. Never ever.”

Lucifer wished he could say the same about himself.

Guilt was a nasty thing gnawing at his innards.

Although morally, he knew he should tell Diavolo about their bond, realistically, he simply couldn't. A sigh escaped his lips as he ignored the way his bones were buzzing, almost vibrating in the presence of Diavolo. It was quite the discerning feeling.

“I am glad we had this talk,” he said in answer. “It's good to know there is no bad blood between us. That would be quite the bother.“

Diavolo beamed at him. “Definitely! Oh, Lucifer, this reminds me of this thing I overheard Solomon and Yuuta talking about. I think they called it 'kissing the homies goodnight'?

Lucifer tensed up again. He hated that due to his brothers' shenanigans he knew exactly what Diavolo was alluding to and even more than that, he hated the implications of Diavolo's carefree statement.

“Please don't even joke about that,” Lucifer forced out without any hesitation.

Diavolo tilted his head in confusion, but before he could ask about it, Lucifer was hit by another particularly painful shot of pain running through his neck. He barely managed to suppress a hiss.

“Would you mind leaving me alone now? I still have a lot of paperwork to go through, as have you,” he forced out.

With a strange expression on his face, Diavolo reached up and cupped the nape of Lucifer's neck, staring at him intently. “I guess there is no way for me to get out of this one?” he finally asked, his palm warm and heavy on Lucifer's skin, his eyes big and pleading. Although he hated to admit it, the feeling of Diavolo's hand flush against the back of his neck, unknowingly cradling that sigil felt far too good, far too comforting.

“Go back to your work, Diavolo,” Lucifer answered.

Your puppy eyes don't work on me, he thought.

Diavolo sighed before performing a lazy mock salute. “At your service.”

Lucifer's heart beat ever so irregularly as he watched Diavolo, in all of his glory, leave his study. As soon as the doors closed behind Diavolo's broad back, Lucifer's knees caved in and he fell to the ground, his only support being his hand holding onto his mahogany desk with whitened knuckles. Deep breaths escaped his lips as his body tried to adjust to the absence of his mate ever so desperately.

As Lucifer grabbed onto the edge of the desk, his head suddenly filled with static and his sight turned dark. Before he knew what was happening, his head hit the cold, marbled floor.  

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,  Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

[amanda-teaches]

Til Death Do Us Part? (4)

Series Summary: At a work party with your best friend, Dean, you panic when your new boss asks if you’re couple. Lying to protect your promotion, you wind up fake engaged before you can take it back. When Dean agrees to go along with your lie for a weekend retreat, you end up finding something neither of you had bargained for: love.

Chapter Summary: After your kiss, your feelings for Dean are only growing. You try to fight them, but quickly realize it’s that much harder to do that when you have to share a bed with the man you’re falling for.

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader

Square filled: Bed Sharing for @spndeanbingo and Breakfast in Bed for @spnfluffbingo

Word Count: 1855

Warnings: So much sexual tension, you guys. Just lots of yearning, bed sharing, kissing memories, smutty dreams. It’s basically just all kinds of sexual tension with lots of fluff and humor, and a side of angsty feelings. Your typical slow burn.

A/N: We’re about halfway through this series, and this chapter is my favorite yet. The feelings are real, y’all, and I’m loving how into each other they are. Buckle up, because it gets real emotional from here on out. Let me know what you think! I’d love to see your thoughts on what’s been happening and where you think it’s going. Tags are open for this series!

Til Death Do Us Part? Masterlist

It had been nearly 30 minutes since you’d locked yourself in the bathroom, ostensibly to shower and get ready for bed. But, in reality, you’d been scrubbed down and dressed for a full 10 minutes now. You were just hiding, afraid to walk through the door, because you knew Dean was waiting on the other side for you, and, honestly, you didn’t know how you could face him after tonight.

You closed your eyes, sighing blissfully as the memories of his kiss washed over you. Your fingers ghosted over your mouth, imagining it was his touch instead of yours, his lips pulling at yours, his groan coming from the back of his throat, his hand moving slowly up your thigh…

Your eyes snapped open, the tingling in your stomach pulling a throaty moan from deep inside you. How could you even look Dean in the eye without imagining the way he’d touched you, how he could have kept touching you...how you wanted him to. You knew you had to leave the bathroom, but how could you face him after that?

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, pushing the thoughts out of the forefront of your mind. You had to leave the bathroom eventually, so no time like the present. You’d just act cool, collected, like you didn’t even remember the kiss.

As if that was even possible.

Tugging on the hem of your tank top, you tried to pull it down a little further, until it brushed the band of your shorts. It barely covered your stomach, but there wasn’t much you could now, considering it was all you’d packed in the rush to get this weekend over with. Probably not the smartest idea you’d ever had, since it turned out you and Dean were sharing a room, but at least you hadn’t packed your lingerie like a true idiot.

Turning, you grabbed the doorknob, rotating it slowly until the door popped open and you were able to push it forward. When you stepped into the room, the first thing you saw was Dean lying on the bed, one ankle crossed over another. His eyes were locked on a book in his hand, giving you a second just to watch him, unnoticed.

He was beautiful. You wished you could say handsome or rugged or even sexy, but, while all those adjectives and more certainly applied to him, beautiful was just the word that encompassed them all. His face, his body, his soul. It was all just so breathtakingly beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made you want to get lost in it forever. 

He’d stripped off his dress shirt, leaving just the white undershirt remaining over some loose, faded Levis. The shirt was fitted, stretched so you could see every muscle, every soft dip underneath, which certainly didn’t help with the nervousness. In fact, it pretty much amplified it ten-fold.

Looking away from his chest to his legs, you smiled softly to yourself, knowing he’d probably left the jeans on for your sake, so that you’d feel comfortable. He never cared about his own comfort, only yours. Your smile widened, because, somehow that small little gesture put everything in perspective. Underneath all the feelings and nerves, it was still just Dean, your best friend, the person you trusted most in the world, and that realization instantly grounded you, driving away your nerves.

“Hey,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

He looked up, a smile forming at the sound of your voice, but it froze the instant he saw you. His eyes drifted down the length of your body before moving back up to your face. Quickly, he pulled himself back together, closing his mouth and smiling softly. “Hey. I was starting to worry you’d drowned in there.”

“Very funny,” you joked, picking up a pillow off the end of the bed and playfully tossing it at him. He caught it easily, laughing out loud before he threw it aside and put his book down on the nightstand.

You started walking towards the other side of the bed, but you paused, hesitating at the edge. He noticed immediately, sitting up straight. “I can sleep on the floor...”

“No, no,” you said, quickly shaking your head. It didn’t surprise you at all that he’d be willing to, but you couldn’t ask him to do that, even if the thought of sleeping next to him made your stomach fall right back into nervous somersaults. “That would be stupid. We can share.”

He stared at you closely for a moment, as if gauging your real comfort level, before he shot you a reassuring smile, humor flashing in his eyes. “Well, I can always build you a wall of pillows if that’d help. Keep you nice and safe.”

You laughed, pulled the covers back, and placed one knee on the bed, sinking down so you were meeting him at eye level. “Now, why would you need to do that, Dean? Do you think I need protecting?”

You were joking, but the teasing way you said it still stopped him in his tracks, his face hardening with something far more sensuous than you were expecting. His gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the way his eyes darkened. You held your breath, aching for him to kiss you, but he spoke instead. “You’ll never need protecting from me, Y/N.”

He was solemn, serious, and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth. He’d never hurt you. You licked your lips, swallowing slowly as his eyes continued to bore into you. You wanted to lean in and pick up where you’d left off earlier, fall into that safety and never let go, but you were scared. No matter how much your body screamed at you to, you just couldn’t let yourself take that leap. “We should probably get some sleep.” You paused, your breaths coming out heavy. “It’s, uh, been a long day.”

Disappointment streaked across his face, but he masked it quickly, tearing his eyes away from you. “Yeah, not every day you get a promotion, right? You must be exhausted.” 

Without waiting for a response, he quickly got up, letting you climb under the covers first before he turned off the light and followed suit. He was very careful not to touch you as he settled in, closing his eyes almost instantly, but you could still feel the heat radiating off him, and it was torture. You could hear his heartbeat, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and all you wanted to do was close the distance between the two of you and touch every damn inch of him.

Instead, you rolled the other way, fluffing your pillow a little too aggressively once you were on your side. As you closed your eyes, you tried to ignore the tension building in your body, pretending you were alone in this bed instead of next to a man who electrified your whole body, your whole mind. No matter how hard you tried, it didn’t stop the memory of his lips on yours from crowding back into your mind as you drifted off into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

You dreamed of Dean.

Bright light invaded your eyelids the next morning, dragging you from your sleep with a disgruntled groan.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” You squinted your eyes open, groggily turning your head to find Dean standing next to the previously closed curtains, now replaced with rays of brilliant, streaming sunshine.

“Ugh, no…” you whined, pulling the pillow over your head and turning onto your stomach. “Too early.”

Dean chuckled, and you could feel his weight drop onto the bed as he sat down beside you. “Y/N/N, it’s 10 am.”

As his words sank in, so did the panic, and you threw the pillow to the side, popping up so fast, you made your head spin. “It is?! Shit!”

You began to look around frantically to get your bearings, but he put his hand on yours, stopping you. “Hey, don’t worry,” he assured you quickly. “You’re fine. All the others left for a hike about 20 minutes ago. I told them we’d skip it and meet them for lunch out by the pool. They didn’t mind.”

“They weren’t upset that I didn’t show up?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. Then, he grinned mischievously. “I could’ve just told them you were sleeping in because we were up all night celebrating your promotion.”

A quick image of Dean’s naked body hovering over yours flashed through your mind, him dropping down to kiss your stomach before slowly moving lower, and you clenched almost imperceptibly, chasing it away. It wasn’t very far from the dreams that had kept you tossing and turning all night long. “Tell me you didn’t…”

He laughed. “No, Y/N, they’re your bosses. I’m not that crazy. I just told them you were still tired from our ride yesterday.” He stood up and crossed the room, making his way to the table. “But, it did buy me some time to sneak this from the kitchen.”

He picked up a plate covered with a silver dome and dramatically lifted it up to unveil a healthy serving of eggs, bacon, and fruit.

You smiled, your heart swelling. “You got us breakfast?”

“No,” Dean clarified. “I got us breakfast in bed. Infinitely superior.”

“Oh, infinitely,” you laughed, taking the plate Dean handed you while he jumped into the bed beside you, holding his own. He sat at the foot of the bed, with his legs stretched out so that he was facing you, starting to dig into his meal with vigor.

“Damn, these fancy people know how to cook,” he sighed happily after the first few bites. “We should take all-expense paid trips to resorts more often. Did you know they’re throwing some big, fancy party tonight? I bet the catering will be insane.”

“Slow down,” you laughed, watching as he practically inhaled the food. “It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Dean. It’s free all weekend.”

“Which is basically half over,” he pointed out, still shoveling down his food. “Gotta enjoy it before we head back to reality tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, your smile fading slightly at the thought of this weekend ending, because you knew exactly what that meant: you’d have to go back to being just friends, feelings or no feelings. “Hey, thank you for doing this.”

Dean glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “The breakfast?”

“Well, yes, that too,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “But, I mean, all of this, everything. You didn’t have to pretend to be engaged to me, but you did, and that really means a lot to me.”

He put his plate down on his lap, staring across at you. “Y/N/N, I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

You looked into his eyes, willing it to be true. But, you knew there was one thing you wanted from Dean that he could never give you. “Yeah, Dean, I know.”

Forevers- @atc74 @babypieandwhiskey @be-amaziing @carryonmywaywardcaptain @deans-dirty-writer @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @dolphincliffs @edgeofreality35 @emoryhemsworth @focusonspn @hannahindie @heyitscam99 @impala-dreamer @impandagrl @karikatz12481 @katymacsupernatural @maddiepants @masksandtruths @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @mysterious-398 @ohmychuckitssamanddean @pinknerdpanda @roxyspearing @spnbaby-67 @squirrel-moose-winchester @wi-deangirl77 @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Dean Tags - @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23  @dean-winchesters-bacon @flamencodiva @squirrelnotsam​

Til Death Do Us Part?- @vicmc624​ @wayward-gypsy​ @compresshischest09​ @lottieellz101 @roonyxx​ @marvelouslysherlockedhunter​ @hardcoresupernatural​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​

[thoschei-rights]

Season 12 but The Master kept pretending to be O??

Basically self-indulgent Thoschei with a twist.

lots of typos bc?? i aint got time to go correct stuff yet? I will later?? 

So Spyfall is resolved, The Kasaavin are banished back to their realm and the Fam and Doctor are clueless as to the true mastermind, Barton taking the fall while the Master continues to pose ad O, having decided he’s enjoying the game of tricking her too much.

Perhaps among their texts they’ve grown close, or perhaps the brief time together in the outback led to events?? ;) But either way, he changes his mind mid plan and continues to act human.

Since he never leaves the message or has the confrontation in Paris, the doctor remains unaware of Gallifrey’s destruction. The fam wait off on asking their questions since she isn’t off with them.

Orphan 55 happens, and while the fam go do their shit, O stays with the Doctor bc admit it, she was like oh ;-; when everyone went to explore. My poor baby. So they hang out together before everything goes to shit, how cute?? Things get resolved, but with the revelation of one of earth’s potential fates, and the potential that the doctor lied about knowing, the fam decide to ask to know more about her. She shares what she believes its true at the time, being born on gallifrey and being a timelord, O looms in the background looking awkward bc he knows none of that is true and he feels horrible keeping the truth from her, it makes him as bad as the rest of the time lords- but he is selfish and he doesn’t want to stop what he’s doing, he’s started to really enjoy her company, its everything he’s ever wanted, every star.

And then it’s ruined when Yaz asks to see her own planet. Blissfully unaware of its destruction, she takes them, and so they’re right there with her when she sees, opens the doors to the rubble, the dying flames- and oh god. The fam are horrified, she’s horrified, O has to fake it, while being utterly glad those nasties are dead- maybe he gets to sneakily comfort hug her??? like she’s trying not to tear up even after that whole shit show of the confession dial, it was her home??so yeah he’s like hugging her but he’s so angry bc they dont deserve her tears?? 

The doctor is off after that, and the fam know why, and none of their words of comfort do much, because sure they’ve just witnessed the death of earth too but that is just one timeline, can be completely avoided, while gallifrey is gone forever, and she believes she’s once more the last of her kind. it hurts.

they visit tesla all the same, and when that big ass scorpion looking alien (bc im sorry i didnt like the episode and i’ve forgotten her name so....) mentions dead planets, she can feel the fam stiffen, as though the doctor is gonna blow at any minute, but she keeps calm, tries to bury the rage, but O can tell, can tell by the way her arms shake, hands clenched into fists in her pockets- and it hurts him to see her like this- the longer he spends around her, pretending to be someone he’s not, he’s just realizing more and more what a dumbass he is and that he’s still as in love with her now than he was all those years ago in the academy- none of the truth will change that-

and then boom the shit show with the judoon occurs and suddenly O is confused af because that Lee guy could ONLY have been him. Who else on gallifrey was stupid enough to hide out with the doctor, marry them and die for them?? him because he’s a dumbass? but he’s a dumbass who definitely doesnt remember this memories?? which theoretically in the doctors timeline should have been sometime after the division? or during? he’s not sure? but to his knowledge he shouldn’t have been alive at this stage? and now he’s not sure what the fuck HIS own life is too? did they take his memories from him too? has he lost part of his life? suddenly the truth doesnt seem as known as he thought- so while the doctor is reeling from the information of Ruth being her somehow? O is having his own mental crisis because what the fuck did they do to him too? what is he missing?? 

praxeus continues as similar as it did originally, O is only the tiniest impressed at Yaz, ever since Spyfall he’d sensed she was the human with the most potential to not be utterly worthless so he’s glad at least one of the doctors latest pets seems to have some initiative?? but yeah i dont wanna change much about praxeus? its not important- except the doctor saying she’s a romantic and the master wants that? wait what- he’s conflicted about his own thoughts? he wanted to break her, destroy her with the truth? but he also just wants to wrap her in his arms? make everything as okay as he can? what the fuck is even happening with him? jsut your usual ‘im a mess’ vibes lmao

when can you hear me? rolls around, it happens in a similar way, i dont wanna get to into it because i dont wanna think too much...the episode was weird, it was just weird-- i cant?? although maybe bc that zellin and the lady whose name i forgot...but they were immortal right?? maybe their species is the doctors species?? huh? huh? think about that- but don’t think too hard bc i hate that theory and i’m gonna pretend i never had that thought- lets just ignore can you hear me even though the end made me cry for yaz bc lol relatable sis, relatable. do whatever you want for this bit fam, idc.

Anyyyyyway. the bit I’m waiting for... Villa Diodati ;) O is ready to smack Byron round the face, fingers itching towards the tce everytime he tries to flirt with the doctor. the lone cyberman appears and wopdie doo earth is going to be destroyed and the doctor is about to do something stupid, thinking there is no other way? the master is like um lol change of plans i dont want the cybermen to win, look how in pain my baby theta is?? i gotta help?? oof? and idk, his patience is like nope all gone? and he whips out his TCE on the lone cyberman and boom. crisis averted? except now the doctor is looking at him in horror and shock and- she realizes who he is then and there, and normally he’d made a big drama out of his, throw in some words, a speech about how easy it was to deceive her, how he destroyed gallifrey- about how he was under her nose this whole time- but he doesn’t, instead he meets her gaze and can barely manage to whisper an “im sorry” and wow shit i wasn’t gonna write that version, i was gonna have feral confrontation but now im stanning a sad master who just needs a hug and some therapy because nothing makes sense, he thought he had everything figured out but he doesnt and he just wANTS HIS FRIEND BACK uiferkghlujkfaghjfkgladhfajkg; i m fine 

i dont know what i wanna do after this point? it could go a lot of different ways?? but thoschei rights bitches. could go angst confrontation and then she abandons him in whatever century that was set bc wow i studied frankenstein in school but i couldnt tell you what century the author is from bc im dumb? 18th? maybe idk that seems likely? or 19th? but anyway yeah or maybe she’s just relieved someone else is alive? or is she shouting for answers or?? i dunno.... but woop ??? 

wow this turned into a big mess but hopefully you can kinda see where i wanna head with things? after this he’d probably show her the truth? i dunno how that’d go down, but he’d be there with her?? But anyway, this idea is free for anyone to write, but holla us a link and I'll give yall a free promo at the end of this post!!

Versions of this that yall Lovelies have blessed us with:

[starks-hero]

Rainy Sunday Mornings are for Talking

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You get to enjoy a particularly drowsy morning cuddled up with your boyfriend. However, you also get the opportunity to speak to Bucky about something you know has been bothering him for quite some time.

Word Count: 1937

Warnings: slight panic attack (Bucky), panic, angst, fluff

You watched the rain hit the window, droplets racing each other down the glass. It was too early for the sun to be up, not that you would have been able to see it beneath the rolling blanket of grey clouds anyway.

The heat from your cup of tea warmed your hands. You took a sip from the beverage before placing it on the counter and continuing to watch the downpour.

You always loved this hour of the morning. Barely anyone else would be awake, leaving you alone with your thoughts in a surprisingly comforting way. You could be entirely yourself without the worry of what the world may think.

The peacefulness was interrupted abruptly when a pair of arms gently found their way around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. You closed your eyes and smiled.

“Good morning, Buck.”

Bucky planted several feather-light kisses along your neck before resting his head against your shoulder. Watching the rain in the morning was calming, but mornings with Bucky would always be your favourite.

“Morning” Bucky’s voice was still deep and gravelly from sleep. He turned you around in his arms, placing a tender kiss on your forehead and pulling you into another hug. His right arm was wrapped securely around your shoulders, holding you against him, while his metal arm hung loosely across your waist.

“Let’s go back to bed, Doll” Bucky murmured, swaying you slightly in his hold.

You shook your head against his neck.

“No, I want to watch the storm” you stated, the symphony of rain pattering against the window still filling the room.

“Fine,” Bucky smirked.

And in one swift movement, you were suddenly gathered up in his arms and being carried back towards your shared bedroom.

“I’ll take you back myself.”

“James Buchanan Barnes put me down!” You laughed, wriggling in his hold but giving in quickly as Bucky blissfully ignored your protests and simply held you tighter.

Part of you wanted to put up a fight, but between the warmth radiating from Bucky’s chest, the way he held you in his arms so that you could rest your head against his shoulder and how you swayed slightly in his hold with each step he took, you found yourself too content to want to move.

Besides, another hour in bed didn’t sound so bad.

Upon entering the bedroom, Bucky placed you on the covers carefully before climbing in next to you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you scooted closer to him, snuggling into his side. Bucky’s lips found your shoulder as he kissed his way up your neck and along your jaw.

You turned slightly in his embrace when his lips met yours. The kiss was chaste and sweet, leaving a smile in its wake.

Bucky pulled back, propping himself up over you as he ran his thumb over your cheek.

“You’re gorgeous” Bucky murmured, causing your smile to widen. Bucky took this as an invitation to lean down and capture your lips in another kiss, this one lasting longer and far more passionate.

It wasn’t that a morning make-out session with Bucky didn’t sound appealing. But the feeling of being back in bed and wrapped in Buck’s arms, along with the painful reminder of how early it still was, caused a new wave of drowsiness to hit you.

Bucky pulled away and smiled when he saw your closed eyes. Leaning down again, he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. You didn’t stir.

“Is someone still tired?” Bucky asked.

 You held your nerve and kept up the act.

You felt Bucky press another kiss to your forehead, and again on your cheek. Your nose scrunched up despite yourself when he kissed its tip.

“Oh? What was that?” Bucky asked playfully, leaning in and kissing your nose again but not receiving the same reaction.

“Well, I suppose there’s only one way to wake Sleeping Beauty,” Bucky sighed, leaning down. You could feel his hot breath against your skin. “True loves kiss.”

You felt Bucky’s lips press gently to yours, but when you made no move to kiss him back, Bucky retreated.

“Okay, come on Y/N, you’re killing me” Bucky gave in, seeing right through your act. You pressed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut.

You heard Bucky sigh heavily from above you.

“Alright, Sweetheart” he sighed. “You leave me no other choice.”

Bucky’s statement was followed by silence. You could feel Bucky moving on the bed slightly but apart from that, there was nothing.

However, when you felt a large weight begin to straddle your middle, you couldn’t help but crack open an eye in curiosity.

But what you saw, you saw too late as Bucky pinned you down with his own body and brought both his hands to your very much exposed and defenceless sides.

“Wait, Buck don’t-!”

But before you could protest anymore the tickling assault had begun. You desperately tried to escape but thanks to your boyfriends crushing weight on top of you, you weren’t going anywhere.

Bucky was merciless as he continued to draw his fingers up and down your sides, using the sensitive skin to his advantage.

You felt your breath hitching with each laugh that escaped you as you attempted to wriggle out from underneath Bucky but to no avail.

“Bucky! Bucky please, I’m begging you!” You laughed as he continued to subject you to the cruel torture, a proud smile on his own face.

“Oh, look! She’s awake!” Bucky chuckled, continuing his attack.

“Bucky!” You squealed, as his fingers brushed past the exposed skin just beneath your bra.

But as he continued to tickle up and down your sides, you began to find it harder to catch your breath enough after each laugh he drew from you. You knew it was nothing but you couldn’t help the panic rising when you realised how much you were struggling to breathe.

Biting your tongue for a moment, you finally managed to grasp enough air and self-control to tell Bucky off in a voice that wasn’t riddled with laughter.

“Bucky stop!”

The words had come out harsher than you’d intended, the panic brought on from lack of breath evident in your tone.

You saw Bucky’s face fall above you as his hands retreated. For a moment you felt guilty, thinking perhaps your sudden outburst had shocked him, but the dark look that began to spread in Bucky’s eyes caused your gut to twist.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked suddenly, all but throwing himself off you.

“W-what?” You asked, bewildered.

“Did I hurt you?” Bucky asked again, his voice straining at the end as he glared down at his hands with disdain and fear.

Then it hit you.

Bucky thought he’d hurt you, he thought he’d caused you pain. And as he continued to glare at his metal prosthetic you had a fair idea why that was. You could already see the fear building up in his eyes.

“Bucky, of course you didn’t hurt me” you reach out your hand to him, however, Bucky all but jumped from the bed, pacing to the other side of the room.

“No! Just-stay there” he warned, holding out his human arm in an attempt to form some sort of invisible force field between you both.

Bucky’s breathing picked up, both his hands became entangled in his messy hair. He doubled over, his breathing now obviously laboured. You felt your heart clench.

He was panicking.

You’d seen it before. And you knew you had to get him out of it, now.

“Buck-” you whispered, getting out of bed, and carefully approaching him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to hurt you” Bucky gasped over and over and you had to bite back your own tears.

“You didn’t, Buck” you whispered comfortingly as you carefully pulled him into a hug. Bucky didn’t stop shaking but he did quiet down, and when his breathing returned to somewhat normal, you let him go.

Bucky’s hands were still covering his face, a normal position he’d resort to when he started to remember the bad.

Gently wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pried them away so you could look at him.

“Bucky.”

His stare remained on the floor as you brought a hand up to wipe away some stray tears.

“James, look at me.”

That caught his attention as his guilt-ridden eyes snapped up to yours.

You smiled, hand still gently resting on his cheek.

“You didn’t hurt me. I just lost my breath and I panicked a little. That’s all. I’m fine” you could still see the uncertainty in his eyes which edged you to continue.

“Bucky, I know how you feel about this” you whispered reaching out to take his metal hand in your own, but he pulled away. “I know how much you hate it, and I know nothing I say is going to change that. But I do know that you won’t hurt me, you’d never hurt me” this time Bucky let you slip your hand into his.

“I trust you Bucky, with my life, but you need to trust yourself too, and I know that’s hard for you to do, I’ll never be able to understand how hard that is for you. But I am here for you, every step of the way. But you need to trust yourself as well Bucky, trust yourself as much as I trust you.”

Bucky was staring at you now with something akin to admiration in his eyes. He sighed softly, a small smile now tugging at his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, and you knew he was saying it to put it behind you both and not as an actual promise.

You smiled nonetheless, standing on the tip of your toes and tenderly kissing him.

“What would I do without you?” he asked, pulling you into him.

You let out an amused sigh.

“You’d do just fine, Barnes.”

“I seriously doubt that” he rivaled, spinning you in his arms.

Laughing slightly, you took Bucky’s hand. “Let’s get back in bed, I’m freezing” you muttered, not missing how Bucky hesitated slightly, metal arm curling behind his back.

“Come on, Buck” you added gently, coaxing him into joining you.

You both slid back under the covers, grateful for the warmth they offered. As Bucky cuddled against you, you noticed his metal arm still resting against his side, almost like he was trying to keep it out of the way.

You reached over and caught his hand in your own. Bucky watched you carefully as you brought his hand to your chest. “It’s alright, Bucky.”

This brought a small smile to Bucky’s lips as his hand ever so gently tightened around your own, the intricate metal fingers intertwining with yours. You marveled at how gentle and deliberate each movement was.

“I love you, Y/N” Bucky whispered, eyes shining.

“I love you too, Buck”.

Bucky pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your temple and keeping your hands interlocked.

Everything quietened down, the only sound reaching your ears was that of the rain still hitting the window and Bucky’s heartbeat beneath you. You sighed, in absolute bliss.

“Thank you” Bucky murmured suddenly, catching you by surprise.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“For what, Buck?”

Bucky chuckled slightly and you could practically hear his smile as he spoke.

“For being my safe place.”

Your chest tightened at his words. You pressed your lips against the cool metal of his hand in a kiss, smiling when the prosthetic flexed slightly under your touch.

“Always.”

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

the shared apartment

prompt: “Please just stay with me.” / number 71 off of this list with Chris Kreider

summary: Chris helps you recover from a breakup and you realize you’re not as upset about it as you should have been.

warnings: swearing, cheating

word count: 2.4k

requests are currently open!

“Please just stay with me.”

You hated how those words almost made you change your mind. Almost. Then you remembered what you had walked in on only half an hour earlier. Part of you wanted to go back in time, when you were blissfully unaware of how you had been lied to for who knows how long. How the man you had let into your life and loved was actually cheating on you. 

It was pathetic, really. You had never been one for romance, afraid of what had happened to you happening. Then, you finally stepped out of your comfort zone, agreeing to go on a date with a friend of a friend and you thought that just maybe you were being unreasonably cynical. 

But maybe the pathetic one was your ex-boyfriend, who had stopped your retreat out of your formerly shared apartment as was begging you not to leave him. You had to laugh, all he had managed to throw on since you had caught him in your bed with someone else was a pair of sweatpants leaving his chest on display. Several hickeys were starting to form there and you wondered what his brilliant plan was going to be when you saw them. He had to be at least smart enough to know that you would piece everything together quickly when you saw them. Clearly, you hadn't been the one to leave the fresh bruises. You had gotten home a day early from a family vacation when you saw there was supposed to be a big storm the night you were originally going to return. 

When you entered your shared apartment, you had expected your boyfriend to be on the couch, watching a movie. Maybe he’d be eating takeout while getting some work done. What you hadn't expected was the trail of clothes leading from the front door to the bedroom. And you really hadn't thought you would see your boyfriend in bed with the girl who lived on the floor below you. 

You had grabbed the first duffle you had seen from the closet and began stuffing inside whatever clothes you would need to avoid coming back to the apartment for a few days. You had managed to retreat all the way to the door by the time your new ex-boyfriend had gathered his wits enough to try and convince you to stay.

“Please, tell me, why the hell I would do that?” You spat, your shock wearing off and anger taking its place. You don't know what made you stop, probably the absurdity of it all, and you spun around to face him. 

“Because I love you.” And since life had a funny way of making things work, as soon as the words left his mouth, the neighbor slipped out of your room, reminding you just how much hatred you now had for him. You gave him one last glare before marching out the apartment and slamming the door behind you. 

It was only after you were in the elevator and the doors had shut did the hot tears begin to fall. You didn't know whether you were crying because you had just had your trust broken, because you felt like an idiot, or if you were that angry at your ex. At some point before you reached the bottom floor, you had dug your phone out of your pocket and called the first person you thought of. He picked up on the third ring, and, after hearing your sobs through the phone, started questioning you and asking if you were okay. 

“Chris, I’m coming to yours. Be there in twenty.” 

You had hung up after your cryptic message, not trusting your voice to say anything else and you needed to remain calm enough to get a cab. When you finally got to Chris’ place, you only had to knock once before the door swung open and you were met with a face showing nothing other than concern. 

He didn't say anything at first, electing to just take your bag from you with one hand and pulling you into his chest with the other. You accepted the embrace, gaining some comfort from him. Eventually, you pulled away and slipped into the apartment. By the time he had shut and locked the door, you were well on your way to his living room.

Chris was basically your best friend. You had met him not long after moving to the city, and you had instantly grown close. Whenever you would go to his games, he said you were his good luck charm and that he always played better. In return, you told him he helped you focus on getting your work done and he offered to come around whenever he could just to help get stuff done faster. That tactic only worked so much, since he could just as well be a distraction as he could be helpful. 

“We broke up.” You explained quietly, unable to meet Chris’ gaze. He and your ex never got along the best, and now you knew it was because he was a piece of shit and Chris was an extremely good judge of character. 

Chris dropped into the space beside you on the couch once he heard your sniffles. You really didn't want to cry again, but you suppose that was going to happen when you just found out the person you loved had been cheating on you. Chris wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“He cheated on me.” Your confession had him tightening his grip on you and you knew he’d have this type of reaction. 

“I’m going to kill him.” He threatened and from your position with your head tucked under his chin you could feel the vibrations as he spoke. You knew there was really no humor in the situation, but the thought of Chris intimidating your ex drew a giggle from you. Chris pulled away slightly to shoot you a questioning look, and even something as simple as his confused facial expressions had smiling—quite the contrast to the tears that were welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just... you.” Despite your chuckle, you wiped away some of the tears that fell without your permission. Chris pulled another face unknowingly, trying to decipher what you could have meant. “I just got cheated on and broke up with my boyfriend and just by you being you, I’m laughing.”

“Glad I could be of help.” He chuckled and you nudged his shoulder, leaning back into the couch. The two of you were silent for a moment, you occasionally brushing away fresh tears and Chris bumping your leg with his in an attempt to distract you. The seriousness had returned in his tone with his next words. “Are you okay?”

“I think? I mean, I’m not as upset as I thought I would be about breaking up. I’m more mad about that fact that he cheated.” You explained. It felt like your brows were permanently drawn together as you tried to think through the confusion of everything that had happened recently. “And how I no longer have a place to live.” You couldn't help but groan at your misfortune.

“Move in with me.” He said as if it was the easiest thing for him. He was so causal about it, he even reached over for the remote and flicked on the television. Your eyes bugged out of your head as you realized what had just come out his mouth. “I mean, this place is closer to your work, and I have a spare bedroom, too.”

“I won't be intruding in on your bachelor pad? It’ll be awkward if you want to bring someone home and I'm just hanging out on the couch.” You teased, ignoring the odd way your chest seized at the thought of Chris hooking up with someone.

“I don’t bring people home, like ever, you know.” He sighed, turning slightly away from you. “And plus, having you around will mean someone will be here to hang out with after games, other than a bunch of sweaty guys.”

“You really know how to convince someone.” You mocked, but you really were grateful for his offer. And he did make a few good points about why it made sense for you to move in. You nodded, agreeing to be his new roommate.

“At least I know one thing.” Chris sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Your ex is a fucking idiot.”

A few weeks had passed and you found yourself quickly over your ex. After the fifth time he had tried to call you, you had blocked his number and only spoke to him when you arranged to get your stuff. Apparently, Chris had told the team about what had happened, so when you needed to get the rest of your belongings, a good chunk of the Rangers roster showed up. Chris acted as a barrier between you and your ex, while the other boys moved your boxes down to Chris’ car. It was funny, honestly, watching your ex cower in the kitchen as several large hockey players glared at him. You swore Ryan Strome knew what he was doing when he kept critiquing anything your ex owned, even if he played it off like he forgot he was in the room. 

At some point along the way, you realized that you should have been a lot more devastated than you were. You remembered when your best friend from back home had broken up with her boyfriend and she couldn't leave the house for a week, let alone hang out with friends and have a good time as fast as you did. 

Then you came to the realization that maybe you weren’t totally in love with your ex in the first place. Someone else was the target of your affection, and it took being cheated on to notice. And that someone just so happened to be your new roommate. 

Chris had always been there for you. He proved that the moment he took you in when you showed up crying on his doorstep. And his was very physically affectionate with you, always hugging, cuddling on the couch and even pressing kisses to the top of you head. You always wondered why your ex would get upset at you for spending so much time with Chris—you hadn't done anything to break his trust, unlike him—but now when Chris payed attention to you like he usually did, an unfamiliar warmth would engulf you, and you thought that maybe he could see you had always loved your best friend more than you could ever love him.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Chris dragged you out of your thoughts as he dropped onto the couch beside you. Since your discovery, your heart rate increased and your palms began to sweat whenever he was near. God, you didn't know how you would be able to handle being friends with him when all you could think about was how attractive he looked just smiling at you.

“I’m fine just hanging out, I’m pretty tired.” As if to prove it, you yawned. Chris grinned, leaning back into the couch. “By the way, I was looking at apartments online and—”

“You’re moving out?” He cut you off, suddenly straightening in his spot. He seemed upset by you words, and you wanted to take back whatever you said that upset him so. 

“I mean, I can’t just live out of your spare room, can I?” 

“Why not?” Your question had been rhetorical, and now you didn't have a response to his objection. Simply you shrugged, your brows drawn together as you tried to think about why he cared so much.

“Because you’re an adult male and if you ever want to get into an actual relationship you shouldn't have a roommate.” You didn't quite know why you brought up him getting into a relationship. Maybe you thought that at least one of you deserved to be happy. Whatever the reason was, you didn't really want think about him with someone else. 

“You don't understand, do you?” Chris blanched, dropping back into the couch with a sigh. You studied him, waiting for any explanation, as he dragged his hands down his face. Then he turned to face you, and any question you could've thought of died on your lips when you saw the seriousness in his eyes. “You’re the only person I want an actual relationship with.”

“Chris, I—” His confession left you speechless, and you were having a hard time stringing any thoughts together. You cut yourself off, wondering when the lines between your friendship became a little blurred and he started to gain feelings.

“Just forget I said anything.” Chris stood up, refusing to meet your gaze. He made it a few steps before you came to your senses and you jumped to your feet, following after him.

“Chris—”

“You just got out of a relationship, I don't know why I brought it up. I’m sorry, can we just go back to being friends—?” Chris started rambling as soon as you caught up to him, stopping his retreat. 

“Chris!” Finally, he stopped talking, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. “I didn’t love him. Not as much as I should have, at least.” You confession sparked a hopeful look in his eyes, and your heart swelled at the small action. 

“Why not?” Unlike earlier, his question didn't catch you off guard. Instead, you smiled widely, boldly taking a step closer to him. In return, he placed a hand on your hip, tugging you slightly so that your chest was pressed against his. 

“Because I was a little preoccupied with wanting an actual relationship with my best friend.” And then you kissed him. You could feel his smile against your lips and when you both pulled away, neither of you could help the laughs that filled the air. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all. You had both been so close for the longest time and it took you getting cheated on to realize what you had been missing. Chris was the first person to speak up, and he drew another laugh from you.

“You’re totally not moving out now.”

[bangtanstanst]

Act Natural | 7 [final]

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven

You didn’t exactly plan on dating someone you work for. But, now that it is happening, all you can do is keep it between the two of you – no matter how hard that ends up being.

≽ pairing: namjoon x reader ≽ genre: secret relationship au, fluff, some angst I GUESS ≽ warnings: namjoon and reader are idiots, a bad closet pun ≽ word count: 3.3k

a/n: hello friends! I hope you’re all doing well, and happy belated namjoon day! Perhaps fittingly, I’ve got a namjoon fic for you this week ;) I can’t believe this is the last part of the act natural series already, it’s been so much fun writing it :’) I hope you like the series and this ending, I’ve honestly been looking forward to write this part ever since I turned the fic into a series fjkdsljfsdk I’m so excited to share it with you!! Anyways, thanks as always for reading and for your support♥♥♥

›› tag list: @dimplemono @peachesandcreamsthings @alinerl @moxxie84 (unable to tag) @sugasheart @joonsroses @minyoongone @joonbonsai @jinitude; thank you so much for your love and support, I hope you enjoyed this series♥♥♥ ‹‹

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For what feels like the first time in forever, you don’t wake up to an alarm clock. You’re still deep in a peaceful slumber around the time you usually have to get up, and you happily remain under the warm covers – blissfully ignorant.

Indeed, this time, you don’t wake up to that annoyingly repetitive alarm clock melody – it’s a shout somewhere outside the bedroom door that does the trick this morning. You awaken with a jolt, though you quickly ignore whatever sounds are coming in from outside – instead, you squeeze your eyes closed as you heave a sigh, curling up underneath the sheets. You’re wearing pyjamas that are way too big for you, you notice, but you certainly don’t mind, and you simply let the clothes envelop you as you try to fall back asleep.

A pair of warm arms wrap around you from behind and a smile washes over your face as Namjoon buries his face into the nape of your neck. “Good morning, baby,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. His lips brush your bare shoulder and a shiver runs down your spine.

You wiggle around in his arms so you can turn over and face him, your eyes still closed. “Morning,” you mumble in reply, wrapping your arms around his torso. You can hear music playing right outside the bedroom door as you lean in to kiss him, and he captures your lips with his as another shout echoes through the house. It takes your brain a moment to process the voice, to realise who it is.

And as soon as you do, you freeze, blood running cold.

It’s not Yari – but it’s familiar nonetheless. It’s a voice you’re only supposed to hear at work, or rare company outings.

Wait, are you –

Your eyes pop open only to confirm your suspicions, and your heart drops into your stomach. You’re not in your own apartment, you’re not in a hotel– no, it’s far worse.

With a gasp, you pull away from Namjoon and squirm out of his arms, scooching over to the side of the bed and accidentally dropping to the ground with a loud thud, drawing a breathy oof from your lungs. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, jumping to your feet and looking around the room– Namjoon’s room. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What is it?” Namjoon inquires from the bed, his eyes still half-closed, hair messy and lips slightly swollen. The collar of his blue pyjama shirt is up on one side, down on the other, and he calmly scratches his cheek as he lifts his head to look at you. He’s being much too calm about this and you’re quite sure he hasn’t fully realised what’s going on yet – you’re too distracted to tell him, however. You’re scrambling to collect your clothes off the floor and gathering them in your arms before you know what to do with them, what to do with yourself. Your gaze flutters over to the window – maybe the balcony? “Something wrong?”

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face him, eyes wide. “Joon,” you breathe out, voice almost turning into a hiss. Your heart is pounding in your throat, panic surging through your veins. “We’re at your place and everyone is awake and they’re gonna –”

A knock.

Your mouth clamps shut and your eyes flicker to the door – finally, realisation seems to hit Namjoon square in the face, too.

He shoots up from the bed, his eyes wide and his lips parted as he stares at the door. You’re both frozen, dead silent as you exchange looks. Your heart keeps beating faster and faster and your chest is already heaving, despite the fact that you haven’t even done that much running.

“Joon, you okay in there?” Seokjin asks, his voice muffled.

“Uhhh...” Namjoon starts, gingerly stepping out of bed while you dash around the room in search for a hiding spot – Seokjin could walk in at any moment and you can do nothing to stop him. You have to find something, anything. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I just uh… I tripped,” Namjoon tells him, frantically looking around the room in an attempt to help you find a hiding spot. “Over my foot.”

A simple chuckle in response. You crouch down at the bed, pulling out the built-in drawer and briefly pondering whether you would fit in there – but the divider in the middle makes the space too small to be comfortable and the mere thought of having to squeeze yourself in there already makes you claustrophobic.

Quickly shoving the drawer closed, not caring one bit about the sound it makes anymore, you jump back to your feet. Grip tightening around your clothes, you look around the room. Bed, lamp, door, bookcase, chest of drawers, wardrobe, window. You’re too big to consider most of them hiding places – but you refuse to stop trying. “Alright, just make sure you’re ready to leave soon, okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” Namjoon shouts in reply as you dash towards a corner, your sleepy and panicked mind considering the tall lamp next to the door a good option – maybe it’ll mask you well enough for Seokjin to simply overlook you once he does step inside.

But in trying to shove behind yourself behind it, you accidentally knock it over.

It doesn’t break once it hits the floor – thank god for that – but it still makes a loud crash landing, and you and Namjoon exchange wide-eyed looks, frozen in place.

You’re fucked.

“You sure you’re okay?” sounds the reaction from behind the door and you let out a gasping breath.

Namjoon abruptly jumps into action, dashing over to his wardrobe and pulling it open, frantically gesturing for you to get in. You nod quickly, practically sprinting towards the closet, where he helps you step inside. With heavy breaths and a racing heart, you give an equally flustered Namjoon a thumbs up before he closes the wardrobe door on you, and you nestle in between his flannels and jackets – just as Seokjin knocks once more.

“Hey, I’m coming in,” he announces and you inhale sharply, your shoulders shooting up to your ears and your back hunching as you try to make yourself as small as possible. Eyes still wide, you watch through the small crack between the wardrobe doors to see Namjoon quickly dashing back to his bed, throwing himself onto the covers just as the doorknob turns. “Sounds like you –”

Seokjin falls silent when he opens the door and sees Namjoon lying on his stomach, his chin in his hands and an innocent smile on his face. “Good morning, Jinnie,” he greets, his feet up in the air, swaying back and forth.

“Are you drunk or something?” his friend asks through a laugh, fully swinging the door open but remaining in the doorway, relatively hidden from your view – you can only see him if you crane your neck. Music drifts in from the hallway and you can hear some of the other members’ voices singing – or, rather, shouting – along to the melody. “Was that why you were out last night?”

Namjoon hums and rolls off his bed. “I might be sleep drunk, if that’s what you mean,” he says, stretching his arms up above his head – you have to admit, he’s doing a pretty good job at pretending this is the first time his feet have touched the floor this morning.

Briefly, his eyes flicker to you and you swear he spots you amongst his clothes, you swear you make eye contact for a split second before he turns back to Seokjin. “I’ll just get dressed, see you in a second.”

As you turn to look at Seokjin, you almost let out a sigh of relief when he nods slowly, seeming to believe Namjoon’s words. Maybe you will get out of this safe and sound, for once in your life.

Your panic slowly starting to subside, you look back at Namjoon – but something else catches your eye and your heart drops into your stomach, lungs drawing in a sharp breath.

Because the closet door is slowly but surely opening on you.

You fight the burning urge to reach out and quickly pull it closed – it would most definitely betray your presence. And so, all you can do is hold your breath and try to disappear into the clothes around you.

“Seriously, are you sure you’re okay?” you hear Seokjin say, and your body paralyses with fear as you watch the closet door opening even further. Leave, goddammit. Just leave! “Did you have a concussion or something?”

Namjoon laughs and you notice that it’s at least partly forced. You don’t pay it much attention, however, heart pounding in your ears as you watch the door inch away from you, the crack growing bigger, revealing more and more of you. You go completely rigid, arms tightening around your own clothes as your fingers curl up into fists. Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me…

“I’m fine, Seokjin, really,” Namjoon reassures him, eyes flickering to the wardrobe. He clears his throat to mask his shock when he, too, notices the door is now halfway open – but he’s too far away from it to casually kick it closed again. “Just lemme get dressed and I’ll –”

“What the hell is…” Seokjin interrupts him, his tone of voice changing completely as he narrows his eyes at the wardrobe you’re hidden in. You take in a sharp breath and squeeze your eyes shut, fists tightening. The trick didn’t exactly work in kindergarten, but maybe you can magically become invisible this time.

“Oh my god, there’s a person in there!” Seokjin exclaims loudly – the voices outside the bedroom fall silent. Yep, you’re definitely fucked. “Fuck, okay, shit, we need to call the police or something, this is –”

“Seokjin, it’s fine,” Namjoon interrupts, letting out a defeated sigh. You deflate along with him, knowing you’re done for – you can even hear the other members coming over to check out the commotion.

You take a breath as you roll your shoulders and straighten your back, exhaling slowly – it was fun while it lasted.

“What?! No, there’s someone in there and we –”

“Seokjin, it’s me,” you say, stepping out of the wardrobe and almost tripping over a loose boot. “It’s just me,” you repeat, letting out a breath as you regain your balance.

He doesn’t say anything – all he does is gape. Seconds seem to stretch out into hours, but all you can do is to stare right back, feeling your cheeks flush as his eyes pierce into you. This is weird – you’re his makeup artist, and now you’re standing in front of him, clad in one of Namjoon’s old shirts with a bunch of your own clothes in your arms. It’s weird.

It’s only when Namjoon clears his throat that Seokjin finally unfreezes, though he merely blinks at the two of you – and one by one, the other members start to pop up behind him, five heads simultaneously trying to take a look over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” Hoseok exclaims, his voice all too robotic for him to sound believable – you’re surprised no one calls him out on his clear lie.

“You’re –” Seokjin points at you, then at Namjoon, then back at you, his mouth opening and closing again and again. “You?” he breathes, blinking at Namjoon with his jaw on the ground, tearing his eyes away from him to look at you. “And you?”

You scratch the back of your head, wincing when you feel everyone’s eyes bore into you. “Yeah…” you mutter, eyes flickering over to Namjoon. “I’m not exactly here to do makeup,” you add softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

No one seems to laugh at your joke, however, too flabbergasted to even register it. “Wait, wait, wait– Namjoon is your secret boyfriend?” Seokjin says through a breath.

“Kinda,” Namjoon replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You cross your arms over your chest, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What the hell?” Hoseok exclaims over Seokjin’s shoulder, theatrically crossing his arms. “This is brand new information!”

You purse your lips in an attempt not to laugh at his continued failure to feign surprise, but an amused smile breaks through nevertheless – in the split second of silence that falls, Jimin seems to realise what Hoseok’s reaction actually means and he gasps, hitting his friend’s shoulder. “You knew, too?!” he exclaims, lips parted. “How did you not tell me?”

Hoseok just widens his eyes at Jimin, mouth falling open. “What? You knew?!” he breathes, exhaling sharply – you’re starting to wonder if Namjoon hasn’t told them about Yoongi knowing, either, though Yoongi himself doesn’t speak up. “I can’t believe –”

“Okay, hey,” Namjoon jumps in with a laugh, stepping forward with his hands stretched out in front of him. “Let’s postpone the rest of the reactions until after we’ve gotten dressed, alright?”

“What, you don’t think we wanna hear about the love story of the century?” Taehyung remarks, crossing his arms and sending the both of you a grin as he leans against the doorframe. He seems much less surprised than you expected him to be, much like Jungkook, who is standing right behind him – but really, you’re incredibly relieved for their seemingly calm and rather curious demeanour. “Because I’m not leaving until we get some details.”

Namjoon laughs, stepping forward to shoo everyone out of the room. “Later,” he insists to Taehyung, who juts his chin upward at his friend, standing his ground – nevertheless, Namjoon pushes on, managing to wordlessly convince him to follow the others.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you stare at the doorway as you watch them all walk away, leaving behind only echoes of their animated chatter as they migrate back to the living room.

You jump as Namjoon slams the door closed behind Taehyung’s ass, his back falling against the door as he lets out a long sigh.

“Get some, Joon!” someone shouts through the door and you snort in amusement – Jungkook. Neither you nor Namjoon respond to him, though, and his voice quickly fades into the bursts of laughter that follow.

Namjoon looks up from his feet, sending you a soft smile. “So…” he starts slowly, his eyes catching yours.

You let out a slow breath, your own smile fades. Your arms tighten around your clothes and you take a step back to sink onto the bed, carelessly dropping them onto the ground. All of a sudden, you feel exhausted, and you feel like curling up underneath the sheets again, returning to the moment before shit hit the fan–

You jolt out of your thoughts when Namjoon sits down next to you.

“So…” you mutter quietly, lifting your head to look at him. “I guess it’s all out of the closet now,” you add, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips – Namjoon laughs softly, shaking his head.

Now that the bedroom has gone silent again, you’re slowly calming down and the stress is ebbing away – and while you thought you’d only be left with a terrifying sense of not knowing how the fuck you’re gonna handle this now, you’re relieved more than anything. Indeed, despite the nagging voice in the back of your head that this might just be the beginning of the end, you feel surprisingly serene. As if you’re finally able to breathe again after months of holding it in.

“Guess so,” Namjoon replies, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. “It went better than we thought, huh?”

Your smile widens and you let out a light chuckle, the voice in the back your mind quieting down. “We still have some questions to deal with, though,” you return, letting out a soft sigh.

He simply shrugs – he doesn’t seem to care much about answering them just yet. “A small price to pay for the ability to take you home after a date.”

You chuckle and nod slowly, smiling down at your hands. The nagging voice seems to return as soon as the room falls silent again, a subtle but increasing sense of worry bubbling in your gut – you were doing so well, and now…

It’s not even about the others’ reactions here, it’s not about whatever questions they’re going to ask you and what you’re going to have to explain to them – it’s about the risks that all of this might bring. If any of them lets literally anything slip, the entire company could know in a matter of hours and with that, the whole world –

Namjoon puts a hand on yours, pulling you out of your thoughts once more – your eyes flutter closed as you let out a slow breath. He laces his warm fingers with yours, his thumb stroking circles into the back of your hand, and you heave a sigh yet again. “We’ll be fine,” he tells you, his voice soft and gentle. “I mean, we were fine when, like, half of them knew. We can manage a few more.”

You let out a laugh, nodding slowly. You still don’t look up at him, however, knowing the frown on your forehead gives away too much of what you really think.

“Hey,” he mumbles, putting a finger underneath your chin to make you look up. You reluctantly do so, lifting your eyes to his – only to receive a reassuring smile. “You’re always the one telling me it’s all gonna be okay.”

Smiling softly, you shrug. “I know, I just…” A sigh escapes your lips and you shake your head, averting your eyes to look at the ground. “It felt more controllable before, you know?” you tell him, starting to chew on your bottom lip. “Like we could still handle it ourselves.”

“Is this really different, though?” he returns, thumb idly swiping over the back of your hand. The worry bubbling in your belly is starting to fade away, especially once you look back up at Namjoon – he seems to be as calm as he could ever be, and it’s already starting to rub off on you. “It’s still the members. We can trust them.”

You can’t help but smile – you know he’s right. “And I guess there’s no turning back anymore, either.”

He grins at you, stroking a strand of hair from your forehead. “See? That’s the spirit,” he says, leaning forward slightly, face hovering mere inches away from yours. “And now we can do this without worrying about getting caught,” he mumbles, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

Your heart flutters and you have to work to suppress your wide grin, hand snaking around his torso and gripping his pyjama shirt. When you pull back, your lips curl up into the smile you’ve been keeping at bay, eyes still closed as your nose brushes his. “Well, I mean, I’d still prefer not to get caught fooling around by anyone, but whatever floats your boat.”

He laughs, warm fingers brushing your bare skin underneath your shirt. “You know what I mean.”

You let out a chuckle, pecking his lips. “It’s nice,” you admit with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him once more. “And I guess we have a new spot for date night now.”

Namjoon simply hums in reply, nodding slowly as he kisses you back. “Speaking of,” he mutters, letting out a soft sigh as he pulls back ever so slightly. “We should have one next week.”

Laughing, you run a hand through his hair, curling a short strand around your finger. “Let’s get through this morning first, yeah?”

He smiles, dramatically heaving a sigh. “Fine…” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

You chuckle, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. “But we’ll still do the date next week,” you mutter with a wide grin, and he laughs in response as you lean back – the nerves in your stomach have dissipated along with most of your worries. Even just looking at him for one moment, you know.

No matter what happens, no matter who else finds out… You’re gonna be fine.

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a/n: thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Again, thanks so much to everyone who read this series and supported it (even though it took a while for it to finish), I really appreciate it so very much♥ I hope you have a wonderful day/night, and I hope to see you again in the future!♥

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[ticklybtswriter]

unfair

summary: having been dragged to a video shoot by your seven friends, you thought nothing of it. well, until you found out what your true purpose of it was.

author’s note: this is my first tickle fic ever and i’m honestly pretty nervous but also really pumped to write it!! there’s obviously a lot of room to grow and i do accept constructive criticism so if you have any tips, let me know!! but other than that,i hope you all enjoy it!! -rosalie

You knew that something was going on when Jungkook and Jimin practically begged you to come to their next video. They’d even gone as far as to pull out the puppy dog eyes, a surefire way to get you to do whatever they wanted. So, you gave in and accompanied them to the filming site.

In truth, you weren’t really paying attention to what was going on around you. That was probably your second mistake after allowing yourself to be dragged here in the first place.

But it wasn’t really your fault for not focusing either. You had always felt a bit off when on set with them. You weren’t an idol or a staff member who had a specific job to be doing. You were just sort of there... That’s why you kept your head down, staring at your phone for a good amount of time. As far as you were concerned, your surroundings were nothing of importance. Sounds were white noise. Well, they were until-

“Blah blah, tickle-”

Your head instantly shot up, the realm of your phone drifting from your mind in a single second. A sudden tingle opened up in the pits of your stomach at the sound of that dreaded word. A blush took over your face as the man described the game. A game that involved them tickling one another.

Those sons of bitches... this was their plan all along. They begged you to come here so they could get you flustered beyond belief... Those dicks.

Your revelation was soon confirmed when you saw Yoongi, the god of anticipation and probably the mastermind of this entire scheme, send a wink your way. That in itself made you start to subtly squirm.

Ever since they found out about your little secret, the boys would look for any excuse to absolutely wreck you. If you made a snarky comment or you reached up to grab something, you instantly fell victim to their mischievous smirks and tortuous fingers. Hell, sometimes they didn’t even look for a reason to attack you. You couldn't even begin to count the number of times Jin or Jungkook saw you going about your day and decided to trail circles with their fingers across your stomach.

You shivered at the memories.

They wasted no time in starting your their torture. The game was similar to the one they had done a few years ago where they had water in their mouths. In this one, there was no water, and the object was to hold in their laughter, a game that Hoseok constantly made you play.

Jimin was up first. It wasn’t hard for the boys to break him. A few simple tweaks against his sides and to his neck was enough to side him into hysterics.

It was the same with Namjoon. Namjoon puts up this great act, but he is definitely just as ticklish as some of the others. (Don’t get it twisted, though, he will still tickle the shit out of you and is in no way a ler to be trifled with.)

The entire time this was happening, you were stuck in your seat. You wanted to squirm since the faded memories of their hands scratching mercilessly at your skin was returning to the forefront of your mind while at the same time not wanting to attract any attention to yourself. So, you sat there, suffering while imagining yourself in the position of whoever was getting attacked.

Halfway through Yoongi’s turn, a staff member noticed your flushed face and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yeah!” You whispered while waving her off. “I’m fine, thank you!”

“Are you sure? You look pretty red.”

“Yeah, you know, actually, do you know where I can get some water?”

She told you that there was a room in the hallway where a bunch of snacks and beverages were set up for the staff and guys. You saw this as a window of opportunity to inconspicuously leave the set and hide in their dressing room.

The moment you opened that door, you threw yourself onto the couch. You grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. The images of them tickling each other, just to mess with you, were fresh in your mind and were replaying over like a broken record. Those memories only served to push your further and further into a lee mood. Oh, how you wished vengeance upon them...

Perhaps an hour passed before you heard the door open and multiple pairs of feet sounded around you. You couldn’t see them because you had hidden in a large blanket, both as an act of protest against them and to mask just how flustered you really were.

“Aww,” Hoseok cooed. “Is someone being shy?”

“No,” You grumbled.

You felt the couch dip beside you and someone lean against your curled-up self. That person asked, “No? But you seemed so into it before you ran off!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t very nice, you know.” 

You ignored Tae and Jimin’s words and buried yourself deeper into the blanket. You let out a soft curse that you thought would be muffled by the thick fabric, but you were proven wrong.

“What was that, baby girl?”

You knew you were fucked. Why? Because Namjoon had done two things just then. The first was call you ‘baby girl’ because he definitely knew how that nickname made you blush. The second was use the tone of voice that held pure, mischievous ler-ness. The realization kept your tongue firmly in your mouth.

“Hyung,” Jungkook piped up. “I think Y/N is ignoring you!”

“I think you’re right!”

“Well, we have to do something about that!” Jin announced.

Right after he said that, the blanket was ripped from your body. You shivered at the sudden loss of warmth but didn’t have much time to think on it before they pounced. Your arms, after only a few seconds of struggle, were pulled over your head while someone gathered your ankles in their strong arms.

“Wahait!” You giggled. “This isn’t fahahair!”

“Oh, and why’s that?” Yoongi questioned as he inched his nimble fingers towards your now-bare stomach.

“B-Because, you were the ones that put me in th-this mood by bringing me here!” Perhaps you got a little too confident in your accusation. You figured that out when Tae, the one holding your sock-clad feet you discovered, gasped.

“Now you’re accusing us for your behavior?”

“You just dug your own grave, princess!” Hoseok smirked.

“Ple-WAHAHAIT!”

All seven pairs of hands descended upon your body as if they were a singular unit. At once, every nerve was aight with the ticklish sensations.

Namjoon had taken residence beside your head so that he could reach over and scribble at your underarms. You desperately wanted to pull your hands down, but Jungkook, with his great strength, made sure that you couldn’t. He used his free hand- yes, the bastard was only using one hand to keep you in place- to wiggle his fingers into your neck. On instinct, you pressed your head to your shoulder to attempt to ease the ticklish feelings but only succeeded in keeping his hand right where he wanted.

“Aww, cutie!” Jungkook gushed. “You trapped my fingers! I can’t get them out!”

“Yeheheah! I-I knhow!”

“Oh, is the ticklee getting a little sassy?” Hoseok used this as an incentive to squeeze your left side even harder while Jin was busily spidering his fingers on your right.

“N-Nohoho, I-I’m nohoHOHOT!” You exclaimed when Yoongi decided to stop poking at your stomach and ventured to wiggle his finger in your belly button.

You let out a squeak when Jimin decided to squeeze at your knees with one hand and squeeze your hip with the other. It made him break out into this giddy smile, “I’m so glad you like this, angel! It means we get to hear these adorable sounds of yours all. The. Time.” He accentuated each word with another squeeze to your hips.

“He’s right!” Jin shouted over your frantic laughter. “And you’re just so cute like this!”

Hums of approval came from each of the men around you, and if you weren’t blushing furiously before, you definitely were now.

“STOHOP TEHEHEASI-” You couldn’t even get the final syllable out before Namjoon picked up the speed in scratching at your armpits.

“Never.” Yoongi plainly told you with that devilish smile. “You love it too much.”

You were embarrassed beyond words, your body was spent, and you wanted nothing more than to curl back up in that blanket to hide. But at the same time, you were so blissfully happy. That smile on your face wasn’t in any way forced; it really was just a truly adorable sight to behold.

They were right in that you were enjoying every second of it, and they knew that. It was why they were having so much fun, too. They had the power to both wreck and tease you out of your mind while also giving you such joy, a deadly combination.

After a while, though, tears started forming and your breath was a little too shallow for comfort.

“Alright, let’s give her some air.” Namjoon firmly spoke. He ruffled your hair affectionately. “Can’t kill you just yet.”

Jungkook let go of your arms after one more teasing flick of his fingers to your neck. When he finally did, you rubbed at your stomach to ease away the ghost tickles that still remained and you brought your knees to your chest. Everyone around you chuckled at your instantaneous reaction, all murmuring of your cuteness in doing so.

“You ready to go home?” Yoongi asked, taking your hand in his.

So you all can destroy me more? “Yeah.”

[hyenasnake]

Noble Maiden Fair

Writing subtle Good Omens fanfiction for an English Assignment? It’s more likely than you’d think. Usually I use she/her pronouns for Michael but because this was for class I used they/them because both are good.

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It had started in a garden in the year 1425 A.D. It was a warm summer’s day and in a peasant’s garden sat a young girl weaving a flower crown. Her fingers were calloused from her life of hard work yet gentle as she worked the daisy stems into a braid. The sun shone on her dark hair, giving the illusion of a halo around her head and a ghost of a smile was on her face as she hummed to herself. “Jeanne,” She heard a voice whispering her name in her ear and turned to see which of her siblings was pestering her but found no one. When she turned back to her task, the smile on her face fading, somebody sat before her.

A lovely person seemingly indistinguishable from male or female dressed in robes of pure white. Chestnut curls cascaded down their shoulders, framing their pale face. Their eyes were as blue as the sky and along their cheeks and lips were golden flecks. The sun framed them from behind as if they were coming down from the heavens themselves. They gave a pearly smile.

“Jeanne D’Arc, be not afraid.” They said, their light voice soothing to the ears of the virgin.

“Who are you and why have you come here?” Jeanne’s voice quivered, ignoring the person’s command.

“My name is Michael and I am sent by God, for at this moment you are most blessed among men and women alike.”

“Why has God sent you, O Holy Saint?” The Archangel gave Jeanne a smile and took her hands. Their own hands felt warm and soft, and Jeanne felt a rush of peace come over her.

“Jeanne D’Arc, The Almighty has seen how England has oppressed your people. How they conquer your country while you, unlike others, are blissfully unaware of their treachery. The Almighty has created you for this purpose; to fight for your faith, your country, and your people.”

“I have faith in our Lord above anything, your Holiness, but why choose me, a peasant girl with no knowledge other than Church and farming? Surely there are many soldiers in His favor enough to fight for the liberation of France. Surely I have no future but to marry and tend to children and the hearth as the Priest says we women must.”

“In God’s eyes, men and women are as equal. All you humans are one in the eyes of Heaven, Hell, and God. Your circumstances of birth do not define you, Jeanne, and God can only think of one so faithful and blessed as to do this task. You will not be alone in this journey for I will be here to guide you and soon others will be sent to help as well. Have faith, little soldier. We will prevail.” 

The Archangel opened six wings of sky blue and lustrous gold and pressed a gentle kiss to Jeanne’s forehead before disappearing in a light shower of golden sparkles that blew away with the wind. Jeanne felt tears dripping down her face as she stared after where the saint had been. She bowed before the spot where they had been and kissed the earth where they knelt. Pushing aside her doubt for fear of disappointing her God, she got up. The fight had started and no longer would she lead the life planned for a peasant maid.

Three years had passed. Jeanne looked out over the battlefield and the fight that raged on, men throwing themselves onto death’s doorstep for the slightest hope of the liberation of France. The cold wind caused tears to form in her dark blue eyes, but blinking them away, she raised her flags higher. A soldier in shining silver armor appeared next to her. “The enemies are weakening. They shall retreat and surrender within a fortnight.” The soldier spoke, their light voice soothing to the battle hardened teenage girl. Jeanne seemed to almost relax and the flags lowered slightly. She turned to the soldier, who she had first met on a summer afternoon not so long ago.

“Thank you, Michael.” The girl gave a relieved smile to her companion. The heavenly knight gave her a sweet smile, steely blue eyes that had so often struck fear into the hearts of enemies in combat gazed fondly on the teenager. Jeanne’s gaze returned to the battlefield and she paused, pursing her lips.

“Michael?”

“Yes Jeanne?”

“This plan will succeed, will it not?” The tension in the girl’s shoulders had returned.

“Of course. If the Almighty is on our side, so it shall be.” The Archangel’s tension also returned.

“But will I succeed? Should I fail, even once, would I still be in heaven’s favor?” The soldier pursed their lips and thought for a minute.

“All of heaven, I cannot speak for. But you, Jeanne D’Arc, shall always remain in my favor. For you are a rarity, one of my favorite humans. I promise you that you will always hold my affections, my child.” Jeanne allowed a wide smile to slip through her hardened armor that she carried for battle and she allowed one hand to slip free from the flags she carried and reach out towards Heaven’s General as if possibly, under all the armor and medals, she was still a scared child. Michael took her hand in their own as if, for a moment, they were a concerned parent trying to comfort their terrified child. 

As the sun was high in the February sky, the battle raged on around them. But for even just a slight moment, unnoticed in all the mayhem, the two soldiers put down their internal armor and allowed themselves to be as vulnerable as newborn rabbits, only having each other for warmth and light in the dark times of war. 

For Michael it had started out as just work. But the Archangel had underestimated their charge. They had stayed by Jeanne’s side for three years, protecting her from all harm so that she may do as God wished. Nothing had prepared them for how attached they had grown to the young woman. To be attached was a human error and supposedly above the General of Heaven, but they found themself unable to stay away from their charge for long. Of course, Michael denied the fact they had become attached to a human and would scold their younger Archangel siblings when they snickered and teased that Michael was going soft. They weren’t soft. They were the general of Heaven and Generals of Heaven did certainly not go soft.

It fully hit them all at once three months after the victory at Orleans. They had left Jeanne’s side for only ten minutes when they heard a sharp cry of pain. They turned from their opponent in time to see Jeanne fall from her horse, an arrow in her shoulder. Michael sprang into action, escaping their human foe and rushing to catch the girl before she hit the ground. Jeanne was caught in inhumanly strong arms and carried across the battlefield to a medic.

“Stay strong, cherie.” The soldier encouraged their wounded charge, not giving thought to the mocking that would inevitably come later from those who didn’t get attached to humans. That night, as Jeanne rested, Michael stayed by her side without moving for anyone and needing neither sleep nor food. 

Jeanne stood tied to the stake. A man below her pyre read the charges of heresy and cross-dressing against her. Wood was added to the growing pilen around her feet. In her heart, though she had desired to be at home with her mother and siblings, she knew she had completed the duty God had given her. Her lust for a normal life had lost the battle and now all she could do was hope God was proud of the work she had done, though she doubted it for if God had been proud surely Michael would have saved her before this point. As she looked to the blue skies with tears running down her cheeks, a torch was thrown onto the pyre. The flames spread quickly across the dry wood, eager to consume her. She opened her mouth to give her last deliverance to the human race.

“Oh, Rouen, Rouen, must I die here, and must you be my tomb? Ah, Rouen, Rouen, I have great fear that you will suffer for my death.” Jeanne muttered to the universe, closing her eyes. The harsh wind blew smoke into her face stinging her already tear filled eyes and choking her. 

“Water! Give me Holy Water!” a cry escaped her lips. Nobody dared to bring her water, not even as The Son had been given wine vinegar at his death. 

“I would rather have my head chopped off seven times than burn.” She mumbled sarcastically, deserving one act of irony in her whole life of honesty and virtue. Jeanne looked to the crowds, eyes stinging. 

“Please, your honors, a cross. Bring me a cross. Now keep it always in my sight until the end.” This she was brought. She stared off at it hoisted for her to see in the air. A Bishop stepped onto the steps of the pyre as the flames melted the flesh on her feet.

“I am come, Jeanne, to exhort you for the last time to repent and seek the pardon of God.” He called to her. Jeanne wanted to laugh, but abstained for that act of irony would damn her. She stared, her dark blue eyes boring into the Bishop’s soul by looking into his own hazel. 

“I die through you.” She spat bitterly.

In Jeanne’s time of dying, she believed Heaven had abandoned her. She did not see a tall figure dressed in a silver dress at the very outskirts of the crowd. The woman, as they appeared to the surrounding humans, watched the fire with tears falling down their pale cheeks. They watched the girl they had come to know as a comrade and a daughter be consumed by the flames. In an hour, when all was done, they vanished as if they had never been there. They had won their war too, and never again would they become attached to humans.

[oh-its-souichi]

Ultra-Violence

Part 2 

Overhaul X Reader

Yo! 

It’s still long, still angsty but this time with a dash of lime

Warning: Abusive relationship, physical abuse, drugging, angst, This gets a little citric but nothing to nuts just a make out sesh. Again grammar might be shite it’s now 0411 and I’m exhausted and... lazy...

When you woke up you were tucked comfortably into your bed. You attempted to look up and around you but found your view blocked by your fluffy white comforter. Internally you argued if it was really worth sitting up to look out and around at the room you knew would be the exact same. Eventually you caved and awkwardly sat up finding your face adjourned with your face mask. You toughed it lightly with your fingertips trying to remember how it had gotten there but you couldn’t remember. In fact you didn’t remember how you had gotten into bed. 

“Your awake darling?” you heard him say having just stepped into your room. 

Oh that’s right

 You remember now 

Faintly you nodded your head yes refusing to meet his gaze, noticing the two cups in his hands. “Yes I just woke up” you said speaking cautiously. He stood motionless at your bed side before running his finger along the surface of your night stand bringing it in front of his face most likely checking for dust. He studied his finger for a moment before lowering it to his satisfied. “You won’t look at me. Why is that?” he said. You hesitated attempting to think of the words you could say to rectify the situation but decided against it opting to sit quietly, your eyes staring dangerously ahead of you. 

He watched your body tense up your mouth staying stubbornly shut. In a matter of seconds you had gone completely cold to him. Deep down he knew why and understood why you were acting the way you were but.. he didn’t like it. You should have known better then to let yourself wallow in dirtiness letting it soil the skin he cared so much for. If you sat in it to long you would have gotten sick. He was only trying to help. “Y/N” he said as a warning his voice warm and kind. 

Everything inside of you wanted to turn to him and give in but you wouldn’t. You would not allow yourself to be treated like that. 

Seconds passed as he waiting impatiently for you to heed to his call but you remained still. He gently set the two cups in his hands down onto your bedside table before he tore your face mask off of your head and latched onto your face, sinking his fingernails into your skin while yanking you closer, your face inches from his mask.

 Your precious E/C eyes widened in fear water forming in them. 

“Where have you manners gone dear?” he seethed gripping onto your jaw a fury that you had never seen before burned in his eyes. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. 

Relentless tears spilled down your face and he could tell you were fighting with heavy sobs that threatened to burst out of your pretty throat. Again you didn’t answer him only staring in silent fear. ‘Worthless’ He thought and shoved you away immediately noticing the red scrape he had left on your face. 

He heart dropped in his chest. 

He ruined you.

 As he looked at you now you seemed like a different person, a shell of the girl he feel madly for at the coffee shop. “I’m sorry” he said plainly cupping his hand against your face. Suddenly you were overtaken by an awful pain before it abruptly stopped and you slumped over exhausted. The aching in your jaw from his powerful grip had ceased. 

Pleased by the absence of the marks on your face, he slipped off his mask and wrapped you in his arms, cradling your weak body. He looked adoringly down at you. 

You looked so pure, ethereal like an angel.

“I had to do it. You need to be clean I can’t risk you becoming… sick” he said resting his forehead on yours. He felt you nod agreeing to his words as he knew you would. A pleased hum left his throat as his eyes caught sight of your plushy pink lips. For some reason he felt the need to kiss them. Never in his life had he craved to feel another human being against him until now. In passing he would notice you pursing your lips or when you sat beside him at his desk you would bite the corner of your lip in thought but out of all of those times he never felt the need to touch you. The thought of being touched disgusted him but now that you were so close... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Abruptly he pushed his lips to yours. Immediately a cool sensation spread across his his face, his body being overtaken by a powerful sense of pleasure that made him deepen the kiss greedily. 

He could feel your pureness and he wanted more. 

Surprised by his actions your eyes flung open a small gasp coming from your lips but you quickly settled finding yourself becoming quickly lost in his touch. You sat up moving yourself into his lap, setting one hand on his face the other on his chest. The two of you moved listlessly together your bodies slotting together like a puzzle piece. He tangled his hand in your hair bringing you so close to him, wanting to feel every bit of your body, before suddenly pulling away. You sighed almost falling back onto your bed when the pressure of his body went away. 

“Take your medicine” He said standing to his feet. Beside you- you saw him reach a gloved hand out snatching up the two cups he had discarded earlier, one filled with water and the other filled with, from what you could see, an impressive amount of pills. You blinked slowly trying to wipe the puzzled look off of your face before he could notice. “What is it dear?” he said in a hushed voice, his eyelid drooping. “Uh- There seems to be more then usual.” you said breathlessly, still trying to recover from the head rush his kiss embrace had given you. 

He hummed sitting back down next to you on the bed, lovingly bringing the cup  to your lips. Under his spell you opened your mouth allowing him to pour the medication in, the bitter taste of the pills burning your tongue. “I’ve added another anxiety medication as well as-” Quickly he pulled the cup away and handed the cup of water to you, his golden eyes watching you drink and swallow. “-another sleep medication to help with your insomnia. I’ve noticed you’ve been waking up throughout the night” He said taking the now empty cup from your hands and setting it on your nightstand. 

You nodded at his words accepting the fact that he knew your sleep schedule despite your room being void of cameras as well as accepting this new diagnosis of ‘Insomnia’ even though you slept soundly, not bothered by the ear splitting screams that floated through the hallways at night. You heard them sometimes but they didn’t bother you.  

You were to busy being blissfully ignorant, you had your own survival to worry about. 

“Good” he said satisfied with your compliance. Slowly he drug his pointer finger along your jawline before connecting his lips again to yours. Under his affection you shuttered, shyly kissing him back. You had longed for his affection for so long, ached to feel his touch dance across your skin. Now that you finally got to experience it, you wanted more. Your desire becoming almost insatiable. 

Your cheeks flushed and out of curiosity you opened your eyes to see is he was as flustered as you felt. Upon opening your eyes you were met with his golden ones staring right back at you. They looked different then normal, they were still cold but as they looked into your half lidded, he seemed more...  relaxed. 

Gently you lifted your arm up to touch him but before you could make contact he pulled away.  “I need to go. We need to have a very important talk in the morning. Sleep well” he said coldly before flicking off your light and exiting the room, your door clicking gently behind him. As he left you clueless in your bedroom he became increasingly aware of the wooziness of his head. Brushing it off as nothing he fastened his mask around his face taking a deep breathe in, savoring the taste of you on his lips. 

[jonghostation]

Dews of Twilight (Part 1)

Hello, its me, Ya Girl. It’s been a while since I put out a story like this, so please be gentle with it and enjoy hehe :) Everyone thank @atiny-treasure for inspiring me with this idea for the story.

Characters: ATEEZ, You, ft. @youremytreasure98 @san--shine @saniscute @atiny-treasure @inamultifanstan @kpoprunsmylifenow , @a-nik7

Ship: Jongho x Reader

Word Count: 1,134 

You were enjoying some light conversation with your friends at the cove when all of a sudden, your ears perked up at the distant sound of footsteps. You gazed upon your left and then knew, that someone was walking towards the beach nearby.

Your good friend, Chiyo, glanced at every one of you with her eyes wary and alert. ‘He’s coming. Hide.’ She instructed, to which the others obeyed immediately. One by one, they all stealthily dipped into the waters until they were no longer visible from the surface. All the while, you remain comfortably seated with only your head moving around to perplexedly stare at your friends.

Some of the latter, namely Allie, Annie and Naddy rose up from the water again, revealing only their frantically concerned eyes as they telepathically communicated to you at the same time,

‘What are you doing? Get in the water, quickly.Y/N, what if the human sees you? It’s too dangerous here.’

The same warnings relayed in your head but there was one statement from all that mental ruckus that you couldn’t seem to ignore,

‘You can’t be here when a human is near, Y/N.’

In response, you finally raised an eyebrow before stating as a matter-of-factly, ‘You do all realise that humans can’t see that well, right? He probably can’t even notice us from over there.’

Naddy rebutted almost immediately, ‘Y/N, we’re not taking any chances. No human is allowed to know of us and live to tell.’ However embedded the last sentence had existed in your mind, you were still determined.

You started to plead in the best way you know. Utilising those persuasive amethyst eyes of yours, you batted your eyelashes as you pouted in order to increase chances of success. To this, Allie only sighed and shook her head before going back underwater, with Annie following suit. All the while, Naddy only gave you a warning look as she left as well, slightly disappointed. 

In contrast, you smiled triumphantly. You then returned to look out at the beach that’s a few hundred yards east from you. Tilting your head to the side, you smiled in intrigue from what you were seeing. For there he was; that two-legged being with the hearty brown eyes. It seemed for days now, he came to the same part of the beach and at the same hour ever since he came out of that large ship which arrived at the island a week prior. 

He would always stand on one spot to look beyond the horizon, then close his eyes and sigh quite heavily. You wondered what he was doing at that time and in that same moment, an idea flashed in your mind. Thinking it was safe enough, you decided to act upon it.

Leaning forward, you glimpsed down to survey the premise for your friends. As you saw that the coast was clear, you prepared your arms on the rock for leverage as you slowly slid down. Your curiosity resolved yourself to get closer to the human, even for just for a seconds. 

You were fortunate enough to find a boulder that’s just large enough to cover your entire body, and so you swam swiftly to take cover there. Peeping over, you observed that the human was sitting with his arms behind him, to support his weight. With his head turned up but eyes still closed, it was as if the human was contemplating about something.

You stared at the sight in absolute marvel. Granted, you had always been very curious of the human race in general. However, there was something about this particular one that caused your interest to dive deeper than the Mariana Trench itself. You just couldn’t seem to find the reason why. Maybe it was because his build was noticeably more robust than the rest of the humans that came along with him. His forearms looked as if they have lifted a thousand pieces of granite stone and his chest was proudly projected in might. You dare say, his physique deemed worthy to battle the Alnabil, only the strongest blue-blooded mermen in Mul Terjun. 

And then there was his eyes; For their slightly drooping shape made him look all the more melancholic, even at rest. The way they would twitch as it gets disturbed by grains of sand blown into them would unconsciously fill you with delight. It all seemed blissfully intriguing to you. Maybe its because he’s the first human you have ever met in your life. Or maybe...

You widened your eyes in sudden realisation. You had been staring at him for far too long that you started to blow your own cover. Returning back to the boulder’s haven, you snapped out of your train of thought and shook your head in slight awkwardness as the thought remained, 

No, that can’t possibly be it. Mermaids can’t..

All of a sudden, a sudden force tugged on your hand, causing your body to jerk downwards to the side as you were transported farther from the shallows. Shock washed over you momentarily. But upon realisation that you knew who was dragging you away, the catharsis kicked in, and you grew more and more desolate.

When the both of you arrived at much deeper waters, a honey-like voice quietly yelled at you in your mind, ‘You’re quite impossible, Y/N’

Sighing, you replied, ‘I just wanted to see him better, Celina’ with a hint of pain in your tone.

The baby-faced mermaid pouted in joint melancholy as she approached you to pat you on the back. Just as it was done, a familiar merman walked over to the both of you, causing you to roll your eyes as he came into view. 

He stopped in front of you as he opened with a comment, ‘ You’ve got guts, Y/N. I wonder how Mama Naddy’s going to respond when she hears about you risking a sighting. Again.’ The merman nodded his head forward with that last word.

You made a irked face at the merman as you responded, ‘ Get off my tail, Xavier. Naddy already knows about this.’  Your tone changed from being wistful to absolutely irritated. 

To this, the merman called Sage only chuckled lightly, stepping closer to you before gently stroking your head in an attempt to amuse you out of your apparent woe. Since you appreciated the gesture, you smiled at him and Celina with dejected eyes. Nevertheless, they both comforted you as the three of you continued your way to the main cave of Mul Terjun. You looked back over your shoulder to see the shallows still visible in sight. A feeling of bittersweetness engulfed your cold heart, for you truly wish to return in order the see this human - nameless as you realised - once again…