#but my recent attempts to get back into reading and find a good romance this last year has kinda shown me

[gimmethatagustd]

the love witch | kth + myg

Despite being a popular romance blogger, Yoongi isn’t interested in finding love. He only summons a demon boyfriend to prove to his followers that it’s possible. He’ll send Taehyung right back to Hell once he’s done with him, obviously.

Pairing: Incubus Taehyung x Witch/Blogger Yoongi

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Modern Magic, Strangers to Lovers, Mild Blood, Demon Summoning, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst (It's Barely There TBH), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aftercare, getting high from sex

Word Count: 12,734

A/N: It's hinted at that Taehyung must perform sexual acts against his will when he's summoned for sex magic (doesn't happen in the story, just in the past, and doesn't go into detail)

A/N 2: I wrote this fic for @theharrowing for Halloween in 2023 (fuck that feels forever ago). Shout out to @sailorsoons for the banner. My fave part of writing this fic was coming up with the chapter titles I'm ngl

🔮 The Love Witch

Dear Love Witch, 

My best friend is getting married next month. I feel really insecure about attending her wedding without a plus-one. I broke up with my boyfriend recently, and it seems like everyone is in a relationship except for me. I’m a bit shy, so it’s hard for me to meet new people. How can I find someone in time for her wedding? What should I do? 

Thanks for the help, 

Table For One

⛥

Table For One, 

First, let me be clear that there is absolutely NO shame in attending a friend’s wedding – or any event for that matter – without a partner. While companionship is beautiful to share with another, be it through a spouse, covenmate, familiar, or the like, our society places too strong of an emphasis on finding companionship. Remember that you are whole all on your own. 

That said, it’s frustrating to constantly dodge questions about your love life shot at you by well-meaning friends and family. Lest we resort to hexing our too-persistent friends, I have a relatively hassle-free solution to your problem: demon evocation. 

With the correct ingredients, spell pronunciation, and conviction, even the least magically-inclined mortals can conjure the confidence to summon their own demon companion – for a price. 

Merry Part, 

The Love Witch

Continue reading for a complete list of ingredients and a step-by-step tutorial on evocation. Interested in learning more? Follow my blog for updates.

🪄 How To Summon A Demon Boyfriend

In the middle of Yoongi’s living room is a large, inverted pentagram drawn in white chalk against the dark hardwood floor. Each of the pentagram’s points holds a lit candle. Most of them are, regrettably, Yankee Candles. The other half are handmade, the products of one of Yoongi and Jimin’s impromptu (non-witch)craft nights. They make Yoongi’s apartment reek of sandalwood, Christmas sugar cookies, and lavender—the conflicting scents cause his head to spin. 

The candle in the middle is Yoongi’s favorite: light pink with a dusting of orange; the fruity, citrus scent is good for a cozy night with a book during a thunderstorm. He doesn't have time to read these days, but he wishes to. 

Surprisingly, Yoongi has never summoned a demon before. It certainly isn’t due to a lack of ability; to say Yoongi is an excellent witch is a humble understatement. Despite being a young witch – just shy of his two-hundredth birthday – there is no doubt that Yoongi can master any magical feat he sets his cunning little mind to. 

Thus, it all comes down to a straightforward explanation. What would Yoongi even need a demon for?

Unlike Table For One, Yoongi feels no shame in being alone. He quite enjoys his solitude. If he had a partner breathing down his neck all the time, he wouldn’t be able to summon a demon for his job, now would he? 

It’s bad enough to have Jimin prowling around every corner like he owns the place. Typical feline behavior, though the familiar has been milking it more than usual these days, in Yoongi’s opinion. Just the other day, the annoying little thing knocked Yoongi’s favorite mug off the kitchen counter. The fact that Yoongi can easily conjure a spell to fix the broken ceramic doesn’t make it any less frustrating to have it broken! 

As for making deals and asking favors, Yoongi is far too dignified and self-sufficient for such an arrangement with a demon. Still, this will be great content for his blog, and he hasn’t gotten such an interesting request for his advice column in a long time. 

Now, all he has to do is put his great mind to work and document the process for his followers and sweet Table For One. 

Salt is next—a ring of it, circling the pentagram. 

Yoongi is careful not to break the salt trail as he kneels on the floor with the rest of his supplies: a small kitchen knife, a Ziploc bag of rose petals, and an old tin box of Spongebob Squarepants Band-Aids he’d found shoved into the corner in the cabinet beneath his bathroom sink. 

The supplies are a bit unconventional, but so is Yoongi, and that’s why his followers adore him—that and the fact that he gives excellent advice. 

Meticulous notes and photos documenting the evocation ritual fill the storage on Yoongi’s cellphone. He’ll edit it all in the morning once he’s gotten everything he needs from the demon. 

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi holds the kitchen knife in his right hand and presses the tip against his left palm, only hard enough to leave a slight indentation but not break the skin. He isn’t queasy, per se, but his heart thuds loudly in his ears as he counts, five… four… three… two…

“Oh, fuck me!” The knife clatters to the floor, spraying salt everywhere when it lands. Yoongi falls back onto his butt, lungs spasming, as he stares at the lithe figure lurking in the doorway to the living room. 

“Don’t mind me,” Jimin purrs with a lick of his lips. “I was just about to leave.”  

Jimin’s bright eyes glow in the room’s dim lighting. The flick of his long black tail gliding like a phantom behind him suggests his curiosity as he takes in Yoongi’s glare. 

Yoongi hadn’t realized Jimin was still home and especially hadn’t expected to see him in his human form. Well, human, if one could ignore the cat ears and tail. 

With a scowl, Yoongi gets on his hands and knees to start brushing the stray grains of salt back into position. “Why do you always do that to me?” 

“Do what?” Jimin’s baby fangs poke his plush bottom lip. 

“Scare the shit outta me.” 

“Hmm,” Jimin doesn’t complete his thought until he’s halfway to the front door, “I’m a black cat; it’s in my nature. But anyway, have fun, hyung! Don’t let your new boyfriend scare you too badly!”

Yoongi scoffs at the sound of the front door clicking shut. Him? Scared? Of a lower-level demon? Jimin is ridiculous. 

Returning to fixing the salt ring, Yoongi brushes aside Jimin’s teasing remarks. He knows they’re part of a mask. Inside, Jimin feels terrible for leaving Yoongi to do the summoning alone. It isn’t Jimin’s fault, though. Thousands of years speak to the uneasy relationship between cats and demons. Until the demon business is taken care of, it’s better if Jimin stays with Namjoon. 

With a long sigh, Yoongi quits fussing over the salt. The circle is good enough; he isn’t concerned. The ritual he has chosen will only summon a lower-level demon, one a witch like Yoongi can easily defend himself against long enough to banish it back to Hell. Yoongi is confident enough that he doesn’t even bother to wear his iron cross. It’ll be fine. 

The kitchen knife’s blade doesn’t hurt when Yoongi presses it into the meaty part of his palm. It slides past his skin easily, sharp enough to slice through the muscle for a good inch or two and then lift up in one clean swoop. Blood immediately trickles from the thin cut. 

Before blood can get all over the floor, Yoongi shoves his hand into the Ziploc bag. He mixes up the rose petals to smear his blood on them. This part hurts; squeezing the petals in his injured hand takes a few slow breaths. 

When the petals are sufficiently bloodied, Yoongi stands over the inverted pentagram and sprinkles the petals evenly within the circle. He’s careful not to drop any into the candles. If he burns down his apartment, that’ll be an entirely different blog article. 

Setting the bloody knife and empty Ziploc bag onto the coffee table, Yoongi fumbles with his phone, pulling up his digital notebook application where he keeps all of his spells. Spellbooks are so twentieth-century, tough to lug around with frail spines and dogeared corners threatening to rip. Phones are much easier. 

“Ah, here we go,” Yoongi mutters to himself when he finds the evocation’s incantations. 

Clearing his throat, he focuses on getting his pronunciation correct. After nearly two hundred years, the roll of his tongue over the ancient language is no longer clumsy. 

Not having Jimin by his side weighs more heavily on Yoongi than anticipated, having grown accustomed to the comforting sensation of their magic merging when he performs high-intensity magic. 

By now, the sun has fallen into the horizon, allowing the night to paint the city black. Yoongi’s living room lights are dimmed, and he considers pausing the evocation to quickly turn them on fully. 

Before he has a chance to, the lights begin to flicker. Yoongi’s voice wavers as he finishes speaking the spell, becoming nearly a whisper by the time he reaches the final word. 

A gust of hot air smacks Yoongi in the face, sending his blonde hair flying like a mane around his head. The middle candle erupts into flames, shooting out deep orange sparks like a fireworks show in the middle of Yoongi’s apartment. It hurts to breathe as thick smoke fills his lungs. Tears stream down his flushed cheeks, but Yoongi keeps his eyes on the fire that doesn’t burn anything it touches. 

From the flames grows a man with beautiful ebony wings, a dark phoenix rising from ember and ash, dressed in tight leather pants and a black tunic. The v-cut of his shirt exposes a warm, toned chest that glows in the firelight. When the flames die down, translucent grey eyes peer at Yoongi through shaggy black bangs.

The demon appraises Yoongi with a lazy stare. His head tilts to the side, and his messy bangs fall like waves in his eyes. Licking his lips, the most sinfully beautiful voice Yoongi has ever heard flows from the creature’s sharp mouth. 

“Why, hello, little witch.” 

Yoongi is of average height for a male witch, actually. Not that it matters. 

At least the evocation ritual worked. 

Yoongi clears his throat, nerves suddenly spiking despite knowing he is more than capable of handling himself right now. 

“My name is Yoongi of the Bang coven,” he offers his name and affiliation with a small bow as what he hopes is a sign of goodwill. Giving away a name establishes trust, though Yoongi has no reason to trust a demon. Perhaps his confidence is evolving into cockiness. 

“Yoongi,” the demon tests out his name in a warm and seductive voice, low enough to vibrate the air around them with a powerful energy Yoongi can feel deep in his bone marrow. The corner of the demon’s mouth twitches while the rest of him is so still that it’s unnerving. 

“While I appreciate the pleasantries, there is a reason why I am here, in this circle, and you there.” 

Long fingers flick an elegant gesture toward where Yoongi stands beside his coffee table. The movement reminds Yoongi that his hand is still bleeding. 

“Ah, yes, well,” Yoongi mumbles as he opens the Band-Aids tin with trembling fingers. Suddenly, the entire situation feels silly, even a bit embarrassing. “You never told me your name.”

The demon grins so widely that he shows all his teeth. They aren’t pointy or disgusting, as the common myths regarding demons claim. Instead, they’re bright white and perfectly aligned, which somehow makes his grin even more uncanny. 

Yoongi doesn’t understand the misconception that demons are ugly. They are fallen angels and the spawn of Satan, the most beautiful angel of them all. Why wouldn’t they be breathtaking, even if it’s unnatural? 

“What will you do for me if I tell you?” 

Ah, and the bargaining begins. 

Yoongi wiggles his toes in his socks and barely thinks before he blurts, “I’ll let you out of the circle.”

The demon’s eyebrows raise until they disappear beneath his shaggy bangs, and Yoongi’s stomach drops. What was it about confidence evolving into cockiness? 

“It’s a deal, Yoongi,” the demon speaks his name like a dirty secret, whispered, and laced with troubling amusement. 

This is for science, Yoongi thinks as he inches his foot out toward the edge of the salt circle. If he’s supposed to show his followers that they can summon a partner to attend events with them, he has to prove that a lower-level demon can survive outside the circle – and that a lower-level demon is easily controlled in case anything goes wrong. 

Yeah, this is for science and not because Yoongi’s brain fills with static when the demon looks into his eyes. 

In hindsight, Yoongi should have made the demon hold up his end of the deal before swiping a break in the circle with his toe. He isn’t thinking clearly and wonders if the demon has done something to his brain when he blinks and reason still doesn’t return to him. 

“Wow,” the demon says with a deep, lethargic exhale. “That was much easier than anticipated. Thank you, Yoongi.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I simply mean that no witch has been so willing.”

The demon’s wings flutter slightly once he steps out of the circle. They’re too large to open fully without knocking furniture over. Yoongi gets the sudden urge to reach out and touch them, but he stamps it down. Nothing would be more inappropriate, he’s sure. 

Eying the demon warily, Yoongi stands his ground as the demon gives him a once-over, clearly sizing him up. Or checking him out; it’s hard to tell with a face like that. 

“Have I made a mistake?” Yoongi asks quietly, fingers still fumbling with the Spongebob Band-Aids but eyes locked on the demon. 

The demon’s silver eyes roam Yoongi’s living room, taking in the mismatched decor, old books, and odd paintings lining the walls. Yoongi’s interest in the gothic never quite meshed well with Jimin’s proclivity for modernization. It’s a disaster, but it’s their disaster. 

“That depends.” The demon smiles with all his teeth. “What is it you need me for, little witch?”

“Love.” Yoongi stares at the demon with widening eyes and throws his hands out in a panic as if to stop him, though the demon hasn’t moved. “I mean, I write about love! I’m the Love Witch! I’m writing a blog. It’s about love. Someone needed help with love.” 

Heat creeps up the back of Yoongi’s neck. The prickling sensation feels worse than the knife he’d used to slice into his palm. 

The demon’s eyebrows arch. “You need me to help you teach others how to make love?” 

“No!” Yoongi drops the Band-Aids tin with a rackety clatter on the floor. He can’t drag his eyes away from the demon long enough to see where the tin lands. 

“Ah, do not worry,” the demon reassures with a quirk to his lips that makes Yoongi’s stomach flip. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. You performed the carnal ritual, did you not? There is no point in lying to me, little Yoongi. I am a sex demon, after all. I believe you mortals use the term incubus, yes?” 

“You’re a, you’re a…” 

Yoongi babbles, but the demon has seemingly lost interest in his inability to speak. The demon wanders out of the living room with his wings tucked close to his body. He leaves light touches on every knickknack he comes across, fingers delicate but curious. At every door, the demon peeks inside the room until he finds the one he must be looking for. 

“Is this where you want me?” the demon asks with a sly grin. He plops onto the edge of Yoongi’s bed and sits back on his palms with his long legs spread. 

With more room to spread out, the demon’s wings flutter slightly and stretch out a bit more. They look soft and inviting, though it could be the steady inviting energy that rolls off the creature. So overwhelmed by the demon’s presence, Yoongi hadn’t noticed the aura until now. 

“How?” Yoongi looks back and forth between his digital spellbook and the literal demon lounging in the most intimate spot in his apartment. “I followed all the instructions and specifically summoned a demon fit for love.” 

The demon fluffs up a pillow to lean back on. “Love, sex, is it not all the same?” 

Yoongi knows it isn’t, even if he has never been in love. 

Sighing, Yoongi resists the urge to call Namjoon for help and pockets his phone. He can handle this on his own; there is no need to bring his covenmate into this, regardless of how knowledgeable he is. Besides, Jimin would worry. 

“You still have yet to tell me your name,” Yoongi says with another deep sigh. This is more complicated than he anticipated. 

“Keeping track of our arrangements? Many forget,” the demon muses. “I am Taehyung.” 

Prosperity– fitting for a demon whose existence is to fulfill the wishes of those who are lacking, Yoongi thinks. For some reason, the name makes his chest tighten. 

“I will not be having sex with you, Taehyung.” Yoongi wishes he didn’t sound so petulant as he makes his intentions clear, as though he’s throwing a fit to hide the truth of his desires – desires he doesn’t have, of course, because he is not interested in the carnal wishes an incubus can grant. 

“No?” Taehyung looks smug and unconvinced. 

“I am merely doing research to see how you behave in the mortal world. You have never visited Earth outside the circle, correct?” 

Taehyung nods as he picks up one of Yoongi’s plushies. It’s his favorite, a tiny Bulbasaur. 

“Most witches summon me for sex magic,” Taehyung explains further. “There is no point in leaving the circle. The power radiates from the pentagram.” 

Yoongi knows nothing about sex magic. It’s dark magic, sinister and difficult to wield. He can only imagine what type of witches have summoned Taehyung in the past and what they’ve made him do. 

And what Taehyung has asked of them in return. 

With a shiver, Yoongi pushes the thought away. He needs to stay focused on the task at hand and figure out what to do with the sex demon in his bed. 

“Alright, well, I have a few deals to make.” Yoongi waits for Taehyung’s attention before continuing. “For the time being, I’m going to place a grounding spell on you so you can’t leave my apartment.” Taehyung scowls at this, but Yoongi ignores him. “Ethically, I can’t have a demon roaming the streets of Seoul unsupervised.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Fair enough.” 

“I’ll figure out what we need to do in the morning. I’m too tired right now.” 

Demons don’t need to sleep, but Yoongi gives Taehyung a pillow and blanket for the couch anyway. It feels strange to tuck a demon in for bed. It’s a fucked up sleepover that makes Yoongi realize he may not have thought this plan through. He was so focused on if he could summon a demon that he didn’t stop to consider if he truly should. 

“Please don’t try to kill me,” Yoongi asks of the beautiful man curled on the couch. Although he’s confident that he can defend himself against Taehyung, sleeping across the hall from a demon feels dangerous. 

“I am bound to you until you banish me. I cannot kill you,” Taehyung says offhandedly, distracted by one of Yoongi’s battered books in his hands.  His wings wrap around his shoulders like a blanket. 

“Right.” 

Taehyung’s answer is only somewhat reassuring. 

🚫 What Not To Do When Taking Your Demon Boyfriend Out To Brunch

Yoongi wakes up alive, so the day's first battle is won. Logic tells him that if Taehyung wanted to hurt him, he would have already done so. Experience makes Yoongi wary of strangers regardless. 

Pulling a thick sweater over his t-shirt and pajama shorts, Yoongi peeks around the corner from his bedroom. Aside from the sound of early morning traffic from outside, the apartment is silent. It’s mornings like this that make Yoongi thankful he can work remotely. He can’t imagine what he would do if he had to go into the office with a demon alone at his apartment. Or worse, bringing the demon with him to work. 

That would be a funny article, Yoongi thinks as he tiptoes down the hallway. “Bring Your Demon Boyfriend To Work Day” – he can see it now. It won’t be an article he’ll write; no, thank you. Table For One can write it after they summon their own demon boyfriend. 

Hell, Yoongi doesn’t even have a demon boyfriend. He has a demon. 

No, no, Taehyung isn’t even his demon. Yoongi’s mind is getting away from him. 

In the living room, Taehyung is curled up in the same position he was when Yoongi went to bed the night before. The only evidence that the demon had moved at all during the night are the small piles of books stacked around him. There’s a stack on the couch cushion beside him, a few on the floor, and more on the coffee table. Some books are ones Yoongi has flipped through the pages thousands of times; others are ones he bought and added to the shelf without a second glance. He means to read them eventually. Like his mind, time seems to get away from him easily. 

“Good morning, Yoongi,” Taehyung greets with quirked lips but doesn’t look up from the book cradled in his large hands. 

It’s a romance novel, one of the raunchier ones Yoongi owns, with a human man embracing his werewolf lover on the front. Gifted to him by Jimin as a joke, Yoongi wonders why he still has it tucked away with the other more scholarly books. Of course, Taehyung would manage to find it. He can likely sniff out smut like a hound in search of fallen game. 

“Is my form too human for you, Yoongi?” 

Yoongi is in the middle of muttering a spell to clean up the dozens of books Taehyung has disturbed. 

“What does that mean?” he asks absentmindedly, focusing on watching the books float into place. 

“This novel, is it an indication that you prefer wolf boys, Yoongi?” Taehyung’s grin is boxy and wide. He tilts his head slightly to the side in a way that would seem innocent if it weren’t for the glint of his teeth and the intensity of his eyes. “Would you wish to perform your sex magic with me if I were a wolf boy? 

Yoongi scoffs, scandalized by the repeated mention of such unnatural magic. “I don’t wish to perform sex magic with you in any form.” 

“Then why am I here?” 

“I already told you!”

Taehyung pouts. 

Ignoring the surge of endearment for the bratty demon that nearly overwhelms Yoongi’s senses, he turns to his phone to check his blog notifications. Nothing is endearing about this situation; Yoongi doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. 

Taehyung leaves the cursed book on the couch and follows Yoongi into the kitchen. The air around Taehyung seems to waver and warp, as though the Earth knows he isn’t meant to be here, uncontained. It reminds Yoongi of heatwaves rippling above the asphalt on a scorching summer day. 

“What are you doing?”

“Checking out what people have to say about you. See,” Yoongi twists so Taehyung can look over his shoulder at his phone. “I posted a photo of you and wrote an article about how to summon a lower-level demon like you.”

“An incubus.” 

“Well, no, just, ugh, just go on to the comments.” 

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow as he concentrates on using the phone the way he’d seen Yoongi use it, his fingers delicate as they glide across the screen. 

“I look pretty,” Taehyung speaks curiously, not with the smugness he’d carried the day before. 

Yoongi wonders if he’s ever had his photo taken before. There’s amazement in Taehyung’s wide eyes that almost make him appear youthful. Like this, absorbed by his interest in the blog, Taehyung doesn’t look intimidating or devilish. His cheeks round out, and his eyebrows furrow. His pretty lips move silently to mouth the words he reads on the screen. 

“These people have many questions,” Taehyung says at last, handing Yoongi his phone. “They want to know if I work for Satan, if I can go to church, if I can fly – a stupid question, if I can turn red, if I eat people, if I–” 

“Alright, yes, there are a lot of questions.” None that Yoongi has time for, so he tries to shoo Taehyung away. 

His presence is overwhelming the longer he stands at Yoongi’s side. His breath is hot against Yoongi’s profile, and the air is overcome with the smell of smoky incense, cedar, and labdanum, which makes Yoongi’s skin tingle. 

Finally giving Yoongi a reprieve, Taehyung steps away to hop onto the kitchen counter. His legs swing, the back of his boots lightly thudding against the side. 

“Will we answer their questions?” 

“Not all of them,” Yoongi admits with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. He’d been under the assumption that Taehyung would be uninterested in his research. 

Taehyung pouts again. “Why not?” 

Turning his back on Taehyung, Yoongi flings open the refrigerator door to stare at empty white shelves. Grocery shopping hadn’t been high on his to-do list while he prepped for the evocation ritual, and Yoongi has learned the hard way that Jimin is an unreliable roommate when it comes to sharing household responsibilities like grocery shopping and cleaning. 

“I summoned you to help one of my followers, so their needs take priority over whatever foolishness the general public is commenting on.” 

“Lovemaking,” Taehyung snickers. 

“Attendance at an event,” Yoongi corrects with a glare. Letting the refrigerator door close, he spins around to face Taehyung, where he still sits perched on the counter. Wearing the tight leather pants, his legs look impossibly long, and his thighs–

Yoongi’s eyes shoot up to see that Taehyung is staring at him, watching him with a look that isn’t far from predatory. The smug confidence makes Yoongi’s stomach flutter. 

“Can you eat human food?” Table For One never specified if they’re a human, but Yoongi has a hunch they are – or at least something adjacent, like a witch. 

Taehyung shrugs, but that’s enough of an answer. 

With pursed lips, Yoongi eyes Taehyung and does his best not to think about how the demon is doing the same. If a demon attends a wedding, food will surely be involved. It’s worth the research, and not only because Yoongi’s stomach grumbles in the silence of the kitchen, and his refrigerator is embarrassingly empty. 

Mind settled, Yoongi waves for Taehyung to follow him into his bedroom. 

“You need proper clothes, not whatever… costume this is,” Yoongi explains with his head ducked into his closet. With legs like Taehyung’s, none of Yoongi’s tighter pants will fit. “Do you want shorts,” Yoongi holds up the clothing, “or sweats?” 

Taehyung’s nose wrinkles when he scowls, part of his upper lip lifting to show sharpened canines Yoongi hadn’t noticed before. “Shorts, if I must.”

Ignoring the attitude, Yoongi hands Taehyung the shorts and a forest green button-up his mother bought him that’s far too big around the shoulders. 

“You’ll have to get rid of those,” Yoongi gestures to Taehyung’s wings. “Can you glamour them away or something?” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes hard enough that it looks like it hurts. His wings flutter lightly, their iridescent glow catching on the bedroom lights with a bright flash that makes Yoongi’s eyes burn. When Yoongi blinks back tears, the wings are gone. Their absence makes Taehyung look smaller and more human, though his demeanor is nothing short of mystical. 

“Should I get rid of these, too?” 

Taehyung’s nimble fingers comb through his floppy mess of curls. Remembering his height, he bows just enough for Yoongi to see the top of his head where his fingers part his hair to reveal two small horns. 

They’re… cute, small enough for Yoongi to wrap his hand around, and short enough to blend in well with Taehyung’s unruly hair. Intricate etchings that remind Yoongi of fingerprints line the surface, and the horns end in blunt tips. 

Suddenly flustered, though he isn’t sure why, Yoongi manages to choke out, “Oh, um. Yes?”

It shouldn’t be a question; Yoongi can’t have Taehyung walking around with horns sticking out of his head. But something feels intimate about how Taehyung showed off this part of himself, and Yoongi can’t shake the tingling sensation in his fingers from wanting to touch them. 

Taehyung nods obediently, and his hair falls back into place, no horns poking through the mess like black dahlias in bloom. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

A proper brunch with Yoongi includes bottomless mimosa pitchers, but today, he chooses to skip the luxury when the waitress approaches their table to take their orders. It’s at an inconvenient time since Taehyung has finally become chatty. Speaking to him on the subway ride to Yoongi’s favorite brunch spot was like pulling teeth. Yoongi should have anticipated the overstimulation a subway ride would cause a demon with no understanding of Earth beyond a salt circle. 

Pausing his incessant questions, Taehyung takes a long sip of the hot chocolate Yoongi ordered him at the counter before asking the question that’s likely been burning the back of his throat: 

“What is brunch?”

Yoongi forces himself not to laugh. He quickly brings his own drink to his lips, an iced americano nowhere as sweet as Taehyung’s drink, and swallows his laughter with the coffee. 

“The meal between breakfast and lunch. We slept in too late for breakfast, but it isn’t quite lunchtime yet. So, brunch.” 

Eyeing the pair strangely for a second longer, the waitress finally clears her throat. “Hi there, my name is Eunji, and I’ll be your server this morning! I see that you’ve already ordered drinks. Would you like water, as well?”

There’s something about the narrowing of Taehyung’s eyes that makes Yoongi nervous about what he’ll say next. He struggles against the part of him that’s curious and the responsible part that hopes to shut Taehyung up. 

Yoongi may be a strong witch, but he’s a weak man. 

“And what is the price?” Taehyung asks because Yoongi doesn’t interrupt him. 

“Oh, nothing! Water is free, and you can find the other beverage prices on the menu.” The waitress gestures toward the laminated sheet. 

“You are mistaken,” Taehyung speaks lowly. “Nothing is free, Eunji. There is a price for everything.” 

Yoongi chokes on his next sip of coffee and lets the burn in his chest motivate him to finally speak up. He tries to wave away the waitress when she pulls out a few napkins to mop up the little puddle he spilled on the table. 

“Can you give us some time?” he manages to croak, and the waitress gives him a small smile when she leaves. 

Taehyung tuts his tongue against the rough of his mouth disapprovingly. 

“You Earthlings are stupid. She gave her name immediately without knowing who we are, and is offering items without a price?” Taehyung leans forward with a dark look in his eyes. “What if she is of the fae? You mustn’t accept gifts nor food and drink from the fae, Yoongi.” 

Taehyung sits back in his seat with a shake of his head, still in disbelief at the many shortcomings of Earthlings. He looks so human like this, dark eyes scanning the menu of food he knows nothing about, in Yoongi’s clothes that don’t fit his long arms. 

“She isn’t ‘of the fae,’” Yoongi snorts. “You would know if she was.” 

Taehyung watches Yoongi over the rim of his mug as if to silently say, whatever. Stupid Earthlings. Yoongi tries not to smile. 

“Write all this down later. Tell your lovemaking followers not to give out their names so flippantly,” Taehyung demands in between asking Yoongi about various food items on the menu. “And tell them to make their demons hot chocolate. This is more delicious than virgin souls.” 

Yoongi’s fork clatters onto the ground. They’re seated at the cafe’s outdoor patio with many other patrons, so his clumsiness goes unnoticed – aside from the demon across the table who grins at him with too many teeth. Even with the glamour that keeps his eyes a normal dark brown and his face a bit less… sharp, Taehyung still looks dangerous. 

“I can taste your embarrassment,” Taehyung is almost giddy as he speaks. He runs his index finger along the rim of his mug and bites his bottom lip between his teeth. 

The diversion is easy, though Yoongi knows Taehyung doesn’t miss the change in topic. “You can taste emotions?” 

“Mmm,” Taehyung hums and doesn’t explain because the waitress returns to take their orders. 

Yoongi has his phone out with his notebook app open, but he only realizes hours later, when he and Taehyung are sharing space in the living room – Taehyung to read and Yoongi to write – that he forgot to take notes.   

💘 5 Devilish Date Ideas For Your Demon Boyfriend

Yoongi doesn’t take Taehyung out on dates, despite what his articles and social media posts may make it seem. Yoongi and Taehyung go on outings, and there is a definite difference between a date and an outing. Outings don’t have the romantic baggage that comes with a date, which is perfect since Yoongi is not romantically interested in Taehyung. At all. 

Just, maybe, a little endeared. 

“I can’t feel my lips.”

Taehyung’s eyes are glassy and rimmed-red, but he stares at Yoongi with startling clarity. He runs his tongue against his bottom lip, pulling his lip between his teeth and wiggling it back and forth. When he releases it, it’s deep pink and slightly swollen from being teased.

Yoongi forces himself to look Taehyung in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel them. They’re all tingly,” Taehyung giggles sweetly. Yoongi thinks Taehyung’s laughter is just as dangerous as a siren’s song. 

“You’re just drunk.” 

“Drunk,” Taehyung repeats after he swallows another sip of his amaretto sour. “I like it.”

Taehyung is a demon, a conniving creature from the depths of Hell who would eat Yoongi’s soul without a second thought if given the chance. No amount of eyelash-batting and boxy grins could trick Yoongi into letting his guard down, even when Taehyung swears their souls are bound together until Yoongi banishes him. 

Being bound together is already unnerving enough without the possibility of getting his soul eaten. 

So it doesn’t matter that Yoongi brings Taehyung to an art museum and gets to see the way his eyes sparkle as he gazes upon hundreds of art pieces. The tug Yoongi feels in his gut when Taehyung lights up at a name he recognizes doesn’t mean anything. When Taehyung dives into a slew of stories about the artists whose souls he’s met in Hell and expresses how ecstatic he is to see what all the fuss has been over them finally, Yoongi ignores his heart palpitations. 

Taking Taehyung shopping is a trivial experience as well. The little twinge of discomfort when Yoongi buys Taehyung his own clothes rather than have Taehyung continue wearing Yoongi’s isn’t disappointment or, even worse, weirdly placed jealousy. It’s only clothes. There certainly isn’t some strange possessiveness that digs its claws into Yoongi’s heart when Taehyung wears his t-shirts and sweatpants to bed. 

And the fancy dinner? Whatever flutter Yoongi felt when he dressed Taehyung in a fitted suit and took him to the nicest restaurant in Seoul, well, that was probably indigestion. 

Each outing is research. The more outings Yoongi goes on with Taehyung, the better prepared his followers will be when they summon their own demons. It’s as simple as that.

“I’ll admit, I’m shocked the alcohol has any effect on you.” 

A paint-and-sip outing wasn’t Yoongi’s idea. Taehyung insisted on letting their followers (because apparently they’re Taehyung’s followers, too) choose the next activity. Considering Taehyung’s affinity for the arts, a painting class fit perfectly. 

Yoongi is just here for the alcohol. 

He takes sips of his red wine more often than he lifts his paintbrush. The painting the class is working on shouldn’t be as difficult as it is: a simple sunset over the ocean. Taehyung has never even seen the ocean before, and somehow his painting looks better than the instructor’s. 

“You assume too much,” Taehyung scolds Yoongi with a point of his red paint-dipped brush. A small glob of paint drips from the tip and falls onto the apron Taehyung wears to protect his clothes. “We demons aren’t all the same, you know. We are like onions.” 

With a groan, Yoongi reaches out to press his palm against Taehyung’s cheek and tries to force his face away and back on the easel in front of him. 

“Whoever voted for Shrek on the movie poll should be banned from my blog,” Yoongi grumbles. 

“Let’s do another poll.” Taehyung reaches for Yoongi’s phone and nearly knocks his glass over. “Ask the lovemaking followers about, um, something fun.” 

“No.” 

“Yoongi, I am commanding you to do another poll. I want ice cream.” 

“That’s not how this arrangement works. I do the commanding.” 

It’s only a little menacing how Taehyung stabs his paintbrush into the water cup to clean the bristles. He glares at Yoongi while he swirls the brush around, stabbing the bottom of the cup a few more times for good measure. 

“What would you like me to do for you then, Yoongi?” Taehyung purrs as he leans forward in his seat. His tongue has found his bottom lip once again, and Yoongi struggles to keep his eyes away from the wet movement. 

“Stop being so difficult.” 

It’s a tease, not something to bargain for seriously. They both know this, but Taehyung’s grin makes Yoongi’s skin crawl. 

“I can be good for you, little witch.” Taehyung’s bloodshot eyes glide over Yoongi, lazy but with a hunger in them that Yoongi hasn’t seen before. “For a price.” 

Desire is unfamiliar to Yoongi, a man who prefers his virtual spell notebook over the company of lovers. He almost doesn’t realize that’s what burns in the pit of his stomach; it’s so easy to assume that the heat results from drinking too much wine. 

So far, Yoongi’s payments have been inconsequential. In return for participating in his “research,” Yoongi buys Taehyung gifts or takes him to do activities only available on Earth. It’s been intriguing to see what silly little deals Taehyung comes up with. Taehyung had been right about Yoongi being too quick to make assumptions. He would have never guessed Taehyung’s requests would end up being so… innocent. 

However, right now, Yoongi is questioning everything. 

The instructor saves Yoongi from scrambling for a response by announcing the session's conclusion. She walks the class through cleaning up their painting stations, rinsing out paintbrushes, and putting away their easels. 

Yoongi’s painting is only half-finished, but this outing has been for Taehyung anyway. The painting will probably end up in the bottom of a closet somewhere with the futile thought that one day Yoongi will try finishing it. 

“Come on,” Yoongi tugs on Taehyung’s ear to beckon him out of his seat. He’s not sure at what point in the past few weeks he’d become comfortable with touching Taehyung. 

“I’m drunk,” Taehyung repeats with a giggle, having dropped the menacing facade. “This is fun, but I think I’m broken.” 

Throwing his arms in the air, Taehyung stretches with a loud groan that makes multiple paint-and-sip participants whip their heads in his direction as they shuffle out of the building. He reminds Yoongi of Jimin on a particularly sleepy day, and Yoongi almost tells Taehyung as much, but something behind Taehyung catches his eye. 

“Taehyung!” Yoongi hisses, grabbing a fistful of Taehyung’s shirt and quickly dragging him out of the community art complex’s front doors. 

Taehyung fumbles over his own feet, leather boots splashing rain puddles once Yoongi has pulled him into the misty night. Alcohol looks good on him. His tan skin turns ruddy around his cheeks, and his lips are still swollen and poutier than normal. It seems wrong for a creature capable of such evil to look so soft. 

Before anyone can see them, Yoongi backs Taehyung into the narrow alley beside the complex. Dark and damp, no one spares them a glance as they disappear into the shadows. 

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung’s expression twists into something just as dark as the shadows that engulf them. “Whoever it is, I’ll kill them.” 

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Fuck, no, we’re not killing anyone.” 

Taehyung’s shoulders sag with what Yoongi hopes is relief and not disappointment. “Who are we hiding from? You must know I can protect you, Yoongi. We are bound toge–” 

“Yes, bound together; if I die, you die, I know. We aren’t hiding from anyone; I’m hiding you. Your wings…” 

It’s rude, Yoongi’s sure of it. He doesn’t know much about the customs of demons, but he can’t imagine it’s anything but rude to touch someone’s wings without their consent. It seems intimate, much like Jimin hating when someone tugs on his tail or touches his ears without asking. 

Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do it, but the desire to run his fingers over the soft feathers is so strong that he burns with it. 

His eyes stay on his hand as he reaches out. Dragging his fingertips along the quilted layers, he lets out a quiet sigh when he finds that the feathers are just as soft and airy as he’d expected. They ripple and flutter beneath his touch as Taehyung shivers, the moisture in the air making the black glitter in the streetlights. Yoongi follows the curve until he gets to the tip, his fingers lingering on the edge. 

The whooshing sound of Taehyung inhaling sharply forces Yoongi out of his stupor. His eyes snap to Taehyung’s face as he snatches his hand back. 

“T-they,” Yoongi clears his throat and straightens his posture, “The alcohol likely made you lose control of the glamour.” 

Taehyung’s eyes are glazed over. When he looks at Yoongi, he looks through him with slow blinks and nothing behind his eyes. 

“Taehyung?” 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Taehyung whispers, his words quiet enough that they’re nearly swept away by the gust of wind that sends fallen leaves skittering across the sidewalk. 

Swallowing, Yoongi gives him a curt nod. 

Shame swirls in the pit of his stomach as he guides Taehyung on the short walk home. A spell of his own works to disguise Taehyung’s demon characteristics. Seoul is diverse in the species that reside there, but demons aren’t welcome in many spaces. 

Taehyung lets Yoongi guide him home by holding his wrist in silence. It’s far too quiet in his apartment, Yoongi now having grown used to Taehyung’s constant questions about Earth and his flirtatious bantering at all hours. Living with a demon should have been more difficult to get accustomed to, but everything with Taehyung feels easy. 

Except for tonight. 

Changed into his pajamas, Taehyung leans against the kitchen counter with a glass of water clutched in both hands. He sips on it periodically, a faraway look in his eyes while he stares at the opposite corner of the room. The glamour magic has long worn off, though Taehyung keeps his wings tucked close to his body, and his horns are naturally hidden away like usual. 

Yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to the other and can’t take his eyes off Taehyung’s empty expression. 

“Taehyung?” he blurts, anxiety building in him like a pop rocket.

A raised eyebrow is Taehyung’s only response, but Yoongi will take it. 

“I’m sorry I upset you. I should have asked first. No, I shouldn’t have done anything at all. I know the other witches who have summoned you may have felt entitled, but I would never do anything that–” 

Cut off by the press of Taehyung’s finger against his lips, Yoongi freezes. He watches Taehyung with a stuttering heart as the incubus traces the bow of Yoongi’s upper lip with the tip of his finger. 

“You did not upset me, witchling.” 

Taehyung’s voice is smooth and hypnotizing, the cadence a lullaby that’s everything terrifying about a monster who preys on its victims in their sleep. It’s gentle but sharp and precise in how it slices into Yoongi, filleting him until his most vulnerable parts are exposed. 

His finger drags down on Yoongi’s bottom lip, pulling it until his mouth parts slightly. 

“Okay,” Yoongi can barely breathe. His eyes flit between Taehyung’s dark irises and his pink lips, both terrifyingly inviting. 

Yoongi is an intelligent witch, but he’s a stupid man. 

Taehyung’s fingers curl around Yoongi’s chin. His hold is loose, the tilt a mere suggestion that Yoongi follows as he lifts his face. 

“Don’t,” Taehyung warns when Yoongi twists his fingers into the front of Taehyung’s shirt. Their noses brush against each other, and Yoongi can practically taste Taehyung from how close their lips are. The warning is easy to ignore when Taehyung lets go of Yoongi’s chin to cup the side of his face. 

“Don’t,” Taehyung repeats, and Yoongi feels the word against his lips. 

Static fills Yoongi’s head with fuzz and the crackle of hot desire. His eyes flutter close, lightheaded from breathing in Taehyung’s smokey scent. 

“Why not?” 

They’re so close. All it would take is the tilt of their heads to slot their lips together. Yoongi wants, more than he can ever remember wanting. He feels tightly wound, pressurized, a spring waiting to snap. 

“You’ll be mine.” 

Yoongi’s blood turns to ice. His eyes fly open when Taehyung pries his fingers from his shirt and gives him a small, closed-mouth smile. 

The Kiss of Death. 

How could Yoongi have forgotten what it means to kiss an incubus? The colloquial term is misleading, though surrendering one’s soul to a demon may as well be a form of death to those who wish to live on their own accord.

The eyes may be the windows to the soul, but incubi use a kiss to capture their victims, tethering them to the incubus as their personal energy source for eternity. The Kiss is rare; Yoongi doesn’t know anyone who has succumbed to such horrible seduction.

“Goodnight, witchling,” Taehyung murmurs and gently flicks the underside of Yoongi’s chin with his finger. He leaves Yoongi alone in the kitchen, the crackle of desire still wavering in the air and uncertainty stirring in his stomach. 

That night, Yoongi dreams of a voice whispering a one-word promise he knows he shouldn’t make. 

Mine.

🫖 Nervous About Introducing Your Demon Boyfriend To Your Friends? Try One Of These Calming Potions

“What are you doing?” 

Taehyung hovers in the doorway of Yoongi’s office, his long fingers curling around the doorframe. Although Yoongi can’t sense emotions like an incubus can, the curiosity flowing from Taehyung is unmistakable. 

“Making a potion,” Yoongi replies, beckoning Taehyung into the room with a wave of his hand. “What are you, a vampire? If you’d like to watch, you may.” 

Looking particularly human today, Taehyung wears straight-leg jeans, a soft cotton t-shirt underneath a burgundy cardigan, and white sneakers that Yoongi smiles at when he realizes are his. Nevermind the fact that Taehyung is walking around the house with shoes on. In Taehyung’s defense, Yoongi had told him that they would only stop by the apartment for something briefly, but their stay has been anything but quick. 

The potion is technically finished. Yoongi swirls it around in an insulated tumbler to mix up a couple of drops of another elixir he’d forgotten to add to this new batch. Handing the tumbler to Taehyung, Yoongi finishes putting away his Tupperware containers of random ingredients in the mini-fridge in his office and tucks his mother’s old recipe book into yet another overcrowded bookshelf. 

Taehyung sniffs the lid of the tumbler and sneezes, the sound echoing loudly through the room. “What is it?” 

“Uhh,” Yoongi takes the potion from Taehyung and sips it as he leads the way to the front door. It’s been, what, a month since he summoned Taehyung? And the questions still come. “Just a potion for nerves.” 

A sly grin stretches across Taehyung’s face like Yoongi knew it would. With his free hand, he shoves Taehyung out of the door. 

“Are you nervous, little Yoongi?” Taehyung asks as if he can’t already tell. 

“Stop calling me little.” 

Taehyung drapes his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders while they wait for the elevator. The taxi Yoongi ordered is already waiting to take them to Namjoon’s house on the outskirts of town. 

“Ah, but you enjoy it,” Taehyung’s breath tickles the curve of Yoongi’s ear when he ducks down to speak against it. “I can smell it.” 

With a shiver, Yoongi steps away from Taehyung’s looming figure and maintains as much distance as possible between them on the elevator ride. Ever since the paint-and-sip night, things have changed between them. The flirtation hasn’t necessarily increased, but it feels weightier now, perhaps because Yoongi is more keenly aware of how easy it would be to become Taehyung’s prey. 

Before that night, his reservations about working with Taehyung had been about a possible attack. Now, he realizes there are more dangerous ways for Taehyung to endanger him than physically fighting him. 

“I’m not nervous,” Yoongi says as he takes a swig of the potion he’d specifically made because he’s nervous. “I’m just… worried.” 

Taehyung handles himself well during the taxi ride despite his disdain for being inside vehicles. His fidgeting is minimal, and he doesn’t make any suggestive comments to the driver. Although Yoongi knew being on Earth would be an adjustment, he’s surprised by the pride he feels swelling in his chest when Taehyung experiences little improvements like this. 

“I will not kill your friends if that is what you are concerned about.” 

The taxi driver coughs. Yoongi sees him reach over to increase the volume of the classical music he’s listening to. 

“Jimin isn’t particularly… fond of, of, well…” Yoongi raises his eyebrows at Taehyung to silently communicate what he's trying to get at. 

Taehyung hums in understanding. The blank expression he wears for the rest of the ride only makes Yoongi more concerned. Has he hurt Taehyung’s feelings? Why would Taehyung care about Jimin’s opinion of him anyway? 

Yoongi chugs the rest of the tumbler when they’re at Namjoon’s front door and hopes the potion’s effects kick in soon. He’s already starting to sweat in his button-up and regrets not dressing casually like Taehyung. The stereotypical witchy vibes have always been appealing to Yoongi. Slacks, pointy boots, large hats, clothing covered in tassels, and too many necklaces to count will likely be his aesthetic long after the dark academia and cottagecore trends are out of style. 

“Hyung!” The door flies open to reveal Namjoon sporting his usual hoodie and sweatpants combo. 

The epitome of comfort, the leader of the Bang coven steps to the side to let Yoongi and Taehyung through. Yoongi doesn’t miss the way Namjoon sizes Taehyung up, his gaze soft but intense even while holding a relaxed composure. 

“Hi, Joonie,” Yoongi greets with a small smile and an elbow to the arm. Hugs are a bit much, but the covenmates know how Yoongi is. “This is Taehyung. My, um, the demon helping me with my current work project.” 

Taehyung bows his head and uses jondaemal as Yoongi taught him when he says, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Namjoon-ssi.” 

“Welcome! And drop the formality; this is a relaxed space.” 

To Yoongi’s surprise, Taehyung eases into conversation with Namjoon with little difficulty as he leads them to the living room, where Hoseok and Jimin sit on the floor at the coffee table playing matgo.

This is the part that has Yoongi’s stomach twisted into knots despite his calming potion. As an excellent potionmaster, it’s discouraging to still struggle with his nerves. His eyes slide from Taehyung’s animated face as he talks about the various art pieces on Namjoon’s walls to Jimin’s rigid posture. 

“And this is Hoseok hyung and Jimin,” Namjoon gestures to the pair as he walks toward the mini bar in the corner of the room. “Would you like a drink?” 

“Joonie, it’s three in the afternoon,” Hoseok throws his head back in a laugh that’s too energetic for the situation, but that’s just Hoseok’s way. He lights up a room in the same way Taehyung makes one heavy. 

“Ah, don’t partake then.” Namjoon waves off Hoseok’s teasing criticism. 

With a roll of his eyes, Hoseok turns to where Taehyung and Yoongi now sit on the couch opposite the coffee table. “It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung. Our Yoongi hyung has been talking about you nonstop.” 

Far too smug for his own good, Taehyung twists in his seat to look at Yoongi. “Is that so?” 

“Mmm, it’s rather annoying,” Jimin’s sweet voice chimes in. He adjusts his position at the coffee table so he can look at all three men. “You are even more handsome than he described.” 

“I never said–” 

Hoseok’s giggling interrupts Yoongi’s protests. “Yes, you did.” 

“Jimin-ah, I can’t take it anymore,” Jimin deepens his voice to mimic Yoongi’s. Yoongi doesn’t appreciate how whiny Jimin makes him sound. “He’s so hot! It’s overwhelming! I can’t think straight around him!” 

Yoongi digs his fingers into his thighs and squares his shoulders. He can practically feel Taehyung vibrating with pleasure beside him. 

“You think I’m hot, little Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice wraps around Yoongi like a weighted blanket. 

“Little Yoongi! He lets you call him that?” Hoseok throws his head back so far that he tips over. Namjoon has to step over his body sprawled out on the floor to reach the armchair beside the couch. 

“No!” Yoongi finds himself pouting out of desperation, but his puppy eyes go unnoticed. 

His friends’ teasing is relentless, and Taehyung feeds into it too willingly. Namjoon ensures drinks flow amongst the five of them, even Hoseok eventually caving to have a shot or two of peach soju. With dazzling smiles and quick wit, Taehyung manages to charm even the intimidatingly skeptical Jimin. 

All Yoongi can do is sit back and watch the scene unfold. That swell of pride returns, and he stares at Taehyung’s side profile far too many times. There’s something about the shine in his eyes that lights up when he laughs and the way his cheeks puff up when he smiles – genuinely smiles, not just grins with his teeth in the predatory way he does. 

Jimin is right; Yoongi can’t think straight around Taehyung. He’s positive he’s never admitted that out loud, but perhaps his feelings are more obvious than he thought. 

Because, yes, the feelings are there. 

As the night progresses, Yoongi is forced to acknowledge and sit with those feelings. It’s too comforting sitting at Taehyung’s side. It’s too natural how Yoongi leans into Taehyung’s side when he slips his arm behind him to rest his hand on Yoongi’s waist. 

It’s too easy to watch Taehyung’s lips shape Yoongi’s name and want to kiss them until Taehyung swallows him whole. 

“Yoongi thought I would kill you all.” 

Taehyung’s confession pulls Yoongi out of another embarrassing episode of staring at Taehyung’s pretty eyes. Yoongi scowls and reaches for his glass of whiskey. 

“That’s a blatant lie. I never said such a thing.” 

“You were thinking it,” Taehyung challenges. “I could sense your nerves.”

With an exasperated sigh, Yoongi turns to his friends for help, and all he finds are amused expressions. 

“You know what I’m doing!” he whines too much like Jimin’s impersonation. “I wanted to see how he handled being in a social setting. To advise my follower about bringing a demon to a wedding.” 

It makes sense in his head, but it sounds like a reach when he says it out loud. It’s the truth, though, and Yoongi isn’t interested in exploring what his nerves mean any more than this. 

“I am good,” Taehyung asserts with a petulant cross of his arms against his chest. The action accentuates the muscles of his biceps and the plumpness of his chest. 

Yoongi has to force himself to look away and pretend Jimin can’t feel the thrum of energy flowing between them. Taehyung feels it, too. Part of Yoongi hates that his feelings aren’t his own, but another part hopes his energy can speak on his behalf. 

“You are,” Yoongi says quietly and means it. A blush spreads across his cheeks when Taehyung squeezes his waist in response. 

Not for the first time since meeting Taehyung, Yoongi wonders how he’ll survive the night with him. 

😈 Demon Sex: Frequently Asked Questions

Taehyung doesn’t get drunk at Namjoon’s house, much to Yoongi’s relief. It isn’t that he’s concerned about Taehyung’s glamour failing him; if his friends were to see Taehyung’s horns and wings, they would be ecstatic. Taehyung is truly a beautiful creature in that form. What his true form looks like is a mystery to Yoongi, and something tells him that he’ll likely never see it, but that’s fine by him. Taehyung’s comfort is what matters. 

Yoongi is glad that Taehyung is sober when they leave Namjoon’s house late into the night because it means that Taehyung’s decision to sit flush against Yoongi in the back of the taxi and run his palm up the length of Yoongi’s thigh isn’t because he’s drunk.

His breath is warm against Yoongi’s already feverish skin when he leans down to speak low enough for the taxi driver not to hear. 

“I know you’re aroused, little witch. Have been ever since Jimin brought up your interest in me.” 

Yoongi bites his lip and keeps his eyes locked on the landscape blurring through the window. It’s drizzling again, and the raindrops distort Yoongi’s reflection. 

Taehyung’s fingertips press into the meat of Yoongi’s thigh. The touches are hardly anything exciting, but Yoongi’s already growing hard. Whipping his head to the side, Yoongi frowns at Taehyung’s hungry eyes.

“Are you doing this to me?” 

“What?” 

“Are you making me like you? With your powers?” 

It’s a valid question. The likelihood of Taehyung influencing Yoongi’s desire is very high, almost to the point that Yoongi would be shocked if he wasn’t. But the crushed look on Taehyung’s face drags Yoongi’s heart to the ground. 

“Why would you think I would do that?” Taehyung bites down on his molars and takes a moment to breathe deeply. “Our bond prevents me from using magic like that on you.” 

“Oh.” 

Taehyung removes his hand from Yoongi’s thigh. The lost contact makes Yoongi shiver, suddenly so much colder and… empty. 

Similarly to the night he touched Taehyung’s wings, Yoongi’s stomach is a mess of shame and nerves throughout their ride. The emotions likely suffocate Taehyung; Yoongi is convinced he doesn’t see him breathe the rest of the way home. 

Determined not to repeat the mistakes of that night, Yoongi doesn’t hide in his bedroom to sleep off the guilt and shame like he did before once they return to his apartment. Instead, he locks the front door and catches Taehyung’s wrist to keep him close. 

“I’m sorry,” he says with as much emotion as possible, “I shouldn’t have made such a prejudiced assumption about you solely based on your species.” 

Taehyung nods, his eyes roaming Yoongi’s face. Yoongi wonders what he sees there and if it even matters when Taehyung can sense the shame radiating from his soul. 

“I am not influencing your feelings or thoughts,” Taehyung speaks quietly, like he’s afraid of scaring Yoongi away. “And I am not pursuing you to feed, as I believe you are also wondering about that.” 

Yoongi blushes and lets his head fall. Chin pressing against his chest, he doesn’t dare look at Taehyung any longer. It’s embarrassing to be called out for such a terrible thought. Taehyung has been kind and respectful, even with his blatant flirting. Living with and getting to know Taehyung has changed everything Yoongi thought he knew about incubi. 

So why is he still judging Taehyung? 

“How have you been surviving?” Yoongi asks suddenly, even more shame wrecking his stomach when he realizes he hasn’t considered how long Taehyung can go without feeding from sexual energy. Human food can’t possibly be enough for a demon to live off of. 

A mischievous grin blooms on Taehyung’s face, and Yoongi’s stomach becomes a different kind of mess. 

“I can feed even if I am not engaging with the source,” Taehyung explains slowly. He presses his fingers underneath Yoongi’s chin to lift his head. “It is difficult not to notice how aroused you become at night. I could slip into your dreams to learn what you’re thinking about, but I never do.”

Yoongi wishes the ground would open and swallow him into it. 

Licking his lips, Taehyung pinches Yoongi’s chin between his fingers as he did when they nearly kissed in the kitchen. 

“What do you think about at night when your body hums with desire, my sweet witchling?” 

Taehyung claims he doesn’t influence Yoongi, but every shift of Taehyung’s body, his heat, his scent, the deepness of his eyes as he looks at Yoongi with such shameless longing – it’s impossible for Yoongi to resist, magic or not. 

“You,” the truth tumbles from Yoongi’s lips. 

This time, when Yoongi grabs the front of Taehyung’s shirt, he doesn’t stop him. Instead, Taehyung steps forward, backing Yoongi up until his back hits the front door. He dips his head down to bump their noses together with a grin made of excitement rather than mischief. 

“No kissing,” Taehyung commands, even as his lips brush against Yoongi’s. “Okay?” 

“Yes, okay.” 

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut when he feels Taehyung’s lips latch onto the corner of his jaw. He sucks the skin hard enough to bruise, then inches his way down the length of Yoongi’s neck. The fingers at his chin tilt his head so Taehyung can gain more access to smooth, unblemished skin. 

“Tell me what you want,” Taehyung murmurs into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. The sensation tickles and Yoongi quickly reaches up to tangle his fingers in Taehyung’s hair. 

“I…” 

“For free.” Taehyung shifts his weight to slot his leg in between Yoongi’s and grinds his thigh against Yoongi’s hardening cock. “Like the water.” 

Pressing his hand to his mouth, Yoongi does his best to stop himself from audibly laughing. The bob of his shoulders throws Taehyung off, though, and he lifts his head to look at Yoongi with confusion. 

When Taehyung tilts his head, Yoongi’s fingertips brush against the base of one of his horns. It’s surprisingly warm, and the ribbed etchings feel nice. Curious, Yoongi drags his nails down the ridges. 

The whimpered moan Taehyung makes goes straight to Yoongi’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans and gently bites down on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Tell me, Yoongi.” 

Taehyung can’t give Yoongi anything for free, but this isn’t the time to think things through. 

“Fuck me, please.” Yoongi isn’t one to beg, but Taehyung doesn’t make him feel like he’s begging when he asks what Yoongi wants. Instead, Yoongi feels like he’s being given a gift. 

It’s clear from how responsive Taehyung is that this isn’t solely for his pleasure. His attention never leaves Yoongi, somehow managing to flick his tongue against every sensitive spot and nibble just hard enough to make his knees shake. 

“Yes,” Taehyung moans when Yoongi drags his nails down his other horn. Bending slightly, Taehyung squeezes the backs of Yoongi’s thighs and hoists him around his waist. 

The casual display of strength makes Yoongi’s head spin, and he hardly keeps himself together when Taehyung throws him onto his bed. All he can do is stare as Taehyung makes quick work of removing his clothes, wasting no time to get fully naked. There’s so much tan skin on display that Yoongi drowns in it. His chest tightens as he soaks in the sight of Taehyung’s massive form, such wide shoulders displaying his hauntingly beautiful wings and his heavy cock hanging between his legs. 

Yoongi supposes being an incubus makes Taehyung accustomed to nudity; there is no room for timidness in sex magic. He wishes he could say the same about himself. 

“Let me see you,” Taehyung asks as he runs a hand down his chest, letting out a quiet moan when his fingers brush against one of his nipples. 

Yoongi wants to follow the path Taehyung’s hand takes with his tongue. Perhaps later, if he builds up the courage. It takes too long for him to remove each layer of clothing, all the while watching Taehyung pump his cock with slow, loose movements. 

Taehyung reaches out to squeeze Yoongi’s naked waist. Like he did to himself, he feels up Yoongi’s chest, this time intentionally tweaking one of Yoongi’s perky nipples and grinning when Yoongi tips his head back with a small whimper. 

“You’re so pretty, Yoongi. So tiny.” 

Taehyung kneels on the bed and grips Yoongi’s face by his jaw. It’s an aggressive action, but Taehyung’s hold is gentle. 

“I wish I could kiss you,” Yoongi blurts when it seems Taehyung might just do it. But Taehyung’s lips fall on Yoongi’s forehead instead. 

“I know,” Taehyung whispers before letting Yoongi go. He leans back and eyes Yoongi’s body for a moment, so pliant and spread out for him on a bed of silky sheets. 

“Get on your knees,” Taehyung commands lowly. His large hands squeeze Yoongi’s hips as he adjusts his placement so that Yoongi is facing the wall up against the bed frame. 

“Hold on, my little witch,” he hooks his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder as he runs his hands down both arms. Grabbing Yoongi’s hands, he curls his fingers around the edge of the bed frame. “May I use some magic on you, little one?” 

Yoongi shivers at the pet name, so easily reminded of how Taehyung looms over him. He doesn’t care what that magic may be, merely nods because he realizes he truly trusts Taehyung. 

Taehyung murmurs something in Hell’s ancient language, and Yoongi immediately gasps at the cool feeling that spreads between his asscheeks. It’s wet and tingly, and Yoongi sags against the bed frame with the side of his face pressed against the wall when his legs turn to jelly. 

“Usually, I enjoy foreplay, but I am impatient tonight.” Without warning, Taehyung plunges two fingers into Yoongi’s hole. 

“Oh god,” Yoongi moans and arches his back to sink further onto Taehyung’s long fingers. 

“Not God,” Taehyung presses a grin against Yoongi’s shoulder. “The opposite, actually.” 

Taehyung is relentless as he fucks his fingers into Yoongi, quickly turning from two to four because his magic has made Yoongi wet and stretched with no effort at all. It’s messy, but it seems that Taehyung likes it from how hard his cock is pressed between Yoongi’s thighs. 

“Please,” Yoongi asks again when he’s afraid he might cum from Taehyung’s fingers alone. “I’ll give you anything, Tae.” 

Taehyung licks a fat stripe up Yoongi’s neck, starting at his shoulder until he can flick the tip of his tongue against his earlobe. “Just this, little one. This is all I need.” 

As thick as Taehyung’s cock is, the slide is easy as he slowly presses forward past Yoongi’s rim. Once he’s fully inside, he holds Yoongi steady with one hand on his hip and the other pressed against his abdomen. The first roll of his hips makes Yoongi shout, and his legs tremble so severely that he nearly buckles. 

“Tae, Tae, fuck, Tae,” Yoongi pants with his head hanging low as Taehyung rolls his hips a second and third time. “You’re so big.” 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good.” 

Taehyung presses his fingers into Yoongi’s lower abdomen, and they both moan when they feel Taehyung’s cock move inside of him. It takes a few minutes before Yoongi is ready for more. Taehyung eases him into it, pulling back to gently thrust into him without jostling Yoongi’s body too much. 

When Yoongi’s gasps start turning into moans, Taehyung picks up the pace. He thrusts harder, angling his hips until he finds Yoongi’s prostate. It’s effortless, probably because Taehyung was made for this. He fucks into Yoongi with such accurate precision, hitting his prostate with every thrust. 

Yoongi’s head lolls as his body snaps forward. The bed frame slams into the wall, banging Yoongi’s knuckles, but he can’t bring himself to care. Taehyung has to grab his arms and pull Yoongi up against his chest to keep him from hurting himself. 

They lace their fingers together, and Taehyung keeps their hands pressed to Yoongi’s hips. The new angle forces Taehyung’s cock even deeper. 

“You taste divine,” Taehyung moans into Yoongi’s ear, low and warm. 

Something about the knowledge that Taehyung is being satisfied in more ways than one makes Yoongi swell with pride. He is feeding Taehyung. He is Taehyung’s source of life, his driving force. 

Yoongi arches his back and lets his head rest against Taehyung’s shoulder. “You make me feel so good, Tae.” 

“Fuck, yeah?” Taehyung turns his head to press his lips to Yoongi’s forehead after a particularly hard thrust. “Will you cum for me?” 

Yoongi lets out a little whimper when Taehyung lets go of one hand to roll his palm over the sticky head of Yoongi’s cock. He immediately cums, the muscles in his thighs and stomach spasming. The only thing that holds him up is Taehyung’s arm curled around his waist. 

“Goddess,” Taehyung swears as he wipes his messy hand on the bed sheets to avoid dirtying Yoongi more. “Hold on for me, Yoongi, just a little bit more.” 

His thrusts stutter and grow shallow until all he does is grind deep inside Yoongi for a few more minutes. 

Yoongi feels the moment Taehyung cums. It’s hot, too hot, a fire that ignites deep inside his belly and sweeps through his veins like a drug. He cries out and tries to wiggle away, but Taehyung keeps his arms wrapped around his body to hold him against his chest. 

“Wait,” Taehyung groans against his neck. “Your energy, calm down, or you’ll pass out.” 

Breathing in slowly, Yoongi forces himself to relax in Taehyung’s hold. The fire eventually subsides, leaving Yoongi to melt into a useless puddle that Taehyung has to let down gently. 

Yoongi collapses onto the bed with heavy eyelids and a tingling sensation in his body that feels like every nerve has been jumpstarted all at once. Despite his fatigue, his brain is buzzing, and his senses seem heightened. Yoongi rarely participates in recreational drug use, but he knows from what little experience he has that this is a better high than any psychedelic elixir or herb a witch has invented. 

“Roll over, please?” Taehyung’s warm hands nudge Yoongi’s hip until he’s flat on his stomach. 

He lets Taehyung use a washcloth to clean him and appreciates that Taehyung chose to do so manually when he could have used magic. It’s more intimate like this. Yoongi feels cared for as Taehyung cleans him and returns with the lotion he found in Yoongi’s bathroom to massage his tight muscles. 

“Is this okay?” Taehyung whispers against Yoongi’s back when he bends forward to kiss him between his shoulder blades. His hands drag over the inside of his thighs, pressing every tight spot like he already knows Yoongi’s body better than his own. 

“If you keep going, I might get hard again.” 

The rumble of Taehyung’s laugh vibrates the bed. Yoongi can’t help but smile into his arms, where his head is cradled. 

Turning onto his side, Yoongi beckons for Taehyung to lie down with him. They both rest facing each other, one of Yoongi’s legs draped over Taehyung’s, and one of Taehyung’s hands resting on Yoongi’s waist. 

“Do you need aftercare?” Yoongi asks curiously. 

Taehyung shrugs the shoulder that isn’t pressed into the mattress. “I don’t know. No one has ever given me any.” 

Yoongi frowns at that, but Taehyung reaches out to pull one corner of his mouth up. Tutting his tongue, Taehyung hums in displeasure. “None of that.” 

“You deserve more,” Yoongi insists. 

“I’m okay.” 

Yoongi doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but he can’t help but think that the list of articles he still needs to write for the evocation tutorial has dwindled.

After tonight, Taehyung will have fulfilled his duty as Yoongi’s demon. After tonight, Taehyung will return to Hell and eventually be summoned by some other witch, likely for more sex magic. 

The idea of Taehyung fucking someone else makes Yoongi’s stomach twist. 

“Yoongi,” Taehyung whispers. He presses his finger to the wrinkles that crease Yoongi’s brow. “Why are you sad?” 

With a deep breath, Yoongi stares into Taehyung’s eyes and admits, “I don’t want you to leave.”

💋 How I Survived My Demon Boyfriend’s Kiss Of Death

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Yoongi brushes Taehyung’s bangs off his forehead so he can see his eyes. They glow in the darkness of Yoongi’s bedroom, bright and alert from the ecstasy of their second round of the night. Their second time was slow and less desperate and felt too much like mourning. 

Yoongi won’t have it. 

“Yes,” he repeats with more force this time. “It may seem like a rash decision, but I have been thinking about you… for a while.” 

Taehyung’s serious expression cracks to allow a smile to seep through. Maybe Yoongi is making the wrong decision. Maybe Yoongi will regret this later in life. Maybe Taehyung isn’t really the person he has shown himself to be in the few months Yoongi has gotten to know him. 

Maybe all of these things will be true, but what Yoongi knows for sure is true is that he is giving himself away to the only person who has ever made him feel.

And that should count for something. 

Taehyung’s breath hitches when Yoongi adjusts in his lap. They’re in their boxers, still lounging in Yoongi’s bed. Taehyung sits with his back against the bed frame, propped up by pillows and blankets to make sure his wings aren’t crushed against the frame. He looks comfortable with his chin tilted so he can look into Yoongi’s eyes. 

They’re silent as Yoongi leans forward. His heart beats erratically in his chest, but the only outward evidence of his nerves is how clammy his hands are when they squeeze Taehyung's broad shoulders. 

“Have you ever done this before?” 

Taehyung shakes his head, and something sad settles over Yoongi’s heart. It hurts knowing a person so sweet and beautiful as Taehyung has lived thousands of years without experiencing aftercare and the gentleness of a kiss. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says softly. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes, and his voice wavers but his eyes never stray from Yoongi’s. 

Yoongi breathes in Taehyung’s smokey scent and settles with the knowledge that he is not the only one giving himself up. Taehyung will be agreeing to be tethered to him and to live the rest of their lives on Earth with Yoongi. From what he’s told Yoongi, it seems like he’s not leaving much behind in Hell, but it’s his home regardless. 

The Love Witch may advise his followers on how to find love and companionship in the modern era, but it always stemmed from his mind rather than his heart. 

Now, as Yoongi finally slots his lips with Taehyung’s, he thinks he understands why so many people come to him with such terrible longing. If he never got to taste Taehyung’s sweetness on his tongue or feel the gentle slide of his lips against his ever again, he’s not sure he would be able to move through life for another two hundred years. 

It’s ridiculous, but he feels like he’s on another plane, and he doesn’t give a fuck if he shouldn’t let this beautiful creature take part of him for himself. 

Taehyung moans, and his hand presses against the back of Yoongi’s head to deepen the kiss. Yoongi leads and doesn’t mind when Taehyung fumbles. He swallows everything Taehyung has to give him, even as Taehyung takes from him as well. 

“It might hurt,” Taehyung had admitted guiltily when they finally agreed that this was what they both wanted. 

Now, Yoongi can’t imagine a more freeing feeling. 

Taehyung is the one to break away. He breathes heavily, air rushing out of his nose as he searches Yoongi’s face for any discomfort. Finding none, he grins, boxy and wide, and holds Yoongi’s face in both hands. 

“Thank you, little witch,” Taehyung speaks against Yoongi’s lips. Yoongi chases his lips and doesn’t feel shame when Taehyung quietly laughs. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me out of the circle.” 

Yoongi’s eyes flutter open to lock with Taehyung’s. He presses a quick kiss to the freckle on the tip of Taehyung’s nose. 

“Thank you for telling me your name.”

[coolspacequips]

Have been reading this sci-fi romance and like UGH u ever really wish a book was just at least a little better??? There's stuff in this that's interesting but also a lot about it that's so... Juvenile and kinda undercooked lol...... But it's so hard finding good romance bc for a lot of romance readers this is enough, except even then not really since they prolly didn't fuck nasty enough in this book for the ppl that just need the merest pretense to read smut (which is fine if that's what u like there's just an oversaturation of this, esp when you can have a light plot/heavy smut story with slightly better writing and internal world building without having to explain and describe the 'boring' parts 😅)

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because�� what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[daydreamgoddess14]

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 4 - Part 1 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

Yes guys, we've reached the bit where my chapters get a bit too long & I had to split the chapter 🤭 Because of the images, I tried to keep the word count to a manageable 6.3k.

If you've been reading this so far and commenting or reblogging, thank you so so much. Honestly, I'm having a blast working on this one, coming up with the ideas for media, the storyline itself... this one's a real treat for me so I'm so grateful you like it too! Feel free to come and talk to me about it, my inbox is always open 💕

Tagging: @winchestert101

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

DECEMBER 2025

You’d turned off notifications for everything except your dad.

Instagram. Twitter. TikTok. Even the group chat.

Every time you opened your phone, it was another headline. Another screenshot. Another “did you see this edit?”

You’d watched the interview back once, and only once, before burying your face in a pillow and groaning so loud the neighbors probably heard.

The chaos didn't seem to be dropping off at all.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the attention. It was just…

You didn’t know what he thought.

And that uncertainty was deafening.

You were on your third cup of tea that day, curled in a hoodie that smelled faintly like your stage dressing room, when your phone buzzed.

You expected more noise. Another trending topic. Another edit.

What you didn’t expect... was him.

The only person other than your dad that you hadn't muted, because you had no reason to.

Because you had no reason to expect a message from him.

You stared at the message.

Then you stared some more.

What…?

You reread the message five more times.

There was no way he meant that for you.

There had to be someone else he'd meant to message instead.

Your stomach did a backflip, and not in a good way.

You almost didn’t reply. Almost just locked your phone and pretended it never happened.

But then your fingers moved faster than your fear.

…. did you mean to send me that?

You tossed your phone onto the bed like it was a grenade, and paced your flat.

This had to be a mistake. Right?

He’d seen the chaos, the memes, the speculation. He probably wanted to clarify something. Do damage control. Set boundaries.

Tell the world to fuck off…

Another buzz.

It was real.

Oh.

Oh.

You sank onto the edge of the mattress.

He wasn’t doing damage control.

He was asking you to get coffee.

Your hands trembled as you typed back.

And then you dropped it in the group chat.

You got there ten minutes early.

Which meant you’d already walked up and down the street twice, circling Borough Market like it was a reconnaissance mission and not a desperate attempt to look like you weren’t desperate.

The weather was grey and brisk, not fully committed to the depths of winter just yet, but definitely on board with the festive season.

You clutched your scarf like a lifeline, eyes flicking over every passing face. Tourists. Shoppers. Locals. No him.

You checked your phone.

Nothing.

It was fine. You were fine. If anything, this was a good thing. Gave you time to breathe. To remind yourself not to read into anything. It was just coffee. Just two people who’d done an interview and -

“Hey.”

“Oh, shit!” You jumped.

He was standing right in front of you, dressed like someone trying not to be recognized, hoodie, sunglasses, coat zipped high.

And yet now you were looking, it was unmistakably him.

“Oh my God. I didn’t even see you.”

He smiled, tugging down his hood slightly. “That’s the idea.”

You stared at him for a second too long before catching yourself. “Right. Incognito.”

“Stealthy,” he teased, eyes crinkling with that quietly smug charm.

God.

You were in trouble.

You fell into step beside him, the rhythm surprisingly easy, like you’d done this a hundred times before.

“So, you're in London,” you pointed out the obvious.

“I am, for a few days,” he nodded.

You glanced over at him. “Did you, uh… happen to notice the internet melting down after the interview aired?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Kind of hard to miss when your friends won’t stop sending you edited fancams set to Taylor Swift.”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’ve seen those. There’s one where they slowed down the hug and put a Hozier track under it. It’s so embarrassing.”

He bumped your shoulder, grinning. “I liked that one. Got your good side.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to.”

There was a moment of silence, not awkward, charged, maybe as you stepped in front of him to move single file through a busy section.

Then he added, quietly from behind you, “Didn’t hate it, though. All the noise. Not if it gave me an excuse to talk to you again.”

You were glad he couldn't see your face.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, gesturing at the rows of stalls. “Pastries? Cheese? Some questionable fusion street food?”

You glanced around, grateful for something else to focus on besides the steady thrum of nerves in your chest. “Questionable? Some of the best food in the city is made here. And, yes, you should try these -” You spotted your favourite bakery stall and waved at the owner.

“Hey Jan, two of the cinnamon please,”

“You're back, love, how's it been going?” The older woman cooed.

“Busy, so busy,” you handed over a fiver and took the paper bag from her, passing it behind to Bucky.

He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“If I don't see you before, Jan, have a lovely Christmas,” you beamed as she blew you a kiss and moved on to the next customer.

You paused at another stall selling fresh coffee, the scent practically illegal. He bought two, handed you one without asking, and continued walking like this was… normal. Like this was just how things went with you two.

“Still think you messaged the wrong person,” you mumbled around a bite, motioning vaguely with the pastry. “I read it at least five times before I believed it.”

Bucky shot you a look. “I meant to message you.”

“Sure you didn’t, like, panic and message the only person you know in London, or something?”

He laughed, and you felt the sound somewhere uncomfortably deep in your stomach. “Nope. Fully intentional. Which… might’ve been dumb.”

You looked up at him. “Why dumb?”

He hesitated just long enough for your heart to stutter.

“Because now I want to keep messaging you,” he said simply.

And just like that, Borough Market disappeared for a second.

You were halfway through your cinnamon bun when Bucky veered off course without a word, slipping away to help a flustered dad carry a buggy up the steps by Southwark Cathedral.

You watched him rejoin you, brushing his hands off as if helping strangers mid-date was standard practice.

“You’re really on the charm offensive, huh?”

He glanced at you, brow raised. “It working?”

You gave a little shrug, smiling despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Guess I’ll keep it up, then.”

There was a moment, easy and warm, and then you added, “you do realise you’re setting the bar pretty high for any future coffee dates, right?”

He grinned, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not planning on sharing my pastries with anyone else.” He leaned in just slightly, voice warm. “Besides, I’ve got to earn a second coffee somehow.”

He gave you a look, playful, but lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.

Just then, a loud group of tourists rounded the corner, jostling through the narrow walkway between stalls. Without thinking, Bucky reached for your elbow, guiding you in closer as the crowd passed.

Your shoulder brushed his chest, his hand warm and steady against your arm. You could smell cinnamon and the faintest trace of his cologne, something subtle, expensive.

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

And how much you didn’t mind.

Bucky nudged your shoulder lightly with his. “You’ve gone quiet on me. That cinnamon bun wasn’t that good.”

You gave a half-laugh, still watching the crowd. “I was just thinking… in a few months, this will all be over.”

He frowned. “The awards stuff?”

You nodded. “The buzz. The interviews. The... whatever this is,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the space between you.

He frowned. “You think it all just… ends?”

“Of course it does,” you said with a small smile. “Eventually I’ll be back doing eight shows a week somewhere. Maybe I’ll get a West End run if I’m lucky. And someone might go ‘oh, isn’t she the one from that film?’ And then…” You shrugged. “They’ll forget.”

You took a step back and carried on walking, but he didn't join you immediately.

He was quiet for a minute too long, until you turned and found his eyes fixed on you, serious, searching, still frowning.

“You really think that’s how this goes?”

You smiled again, soft this time, and shrugged, “how many actors have been to the Oscars and then disappeared?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t say anything. Just fell into step beside you again, quiet for a stretch as your words hung between you like fog. You wondered if he was trying to think of something reassuring to say. Something practical. But when he finally did speak, his voice was low and thoughtful.

“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried.”

You turned your head, surprised, a flutter kicking up in your chest.

He gave a small, lopsided smile, gaze forward again like he hadn’t just shifted something huge between you.

Your cheeks flushed despite the chill in the air. He glanced down at you, a spark of something warm flickering in his eyes.

The crowd thickened again ahead, breaking the moment.

You found a quieter nook between stalls, the hum of the crowd dimmed just enough to breathe.

You lingered there for a minute, the sounds of the market washing around you, muffled and distant.

He didn’t say anything more, but the silence between you wasn’t awkward, it was waiting.

Eventually, you tipped your head toward a nearby stall. “C’mon,” you said, voice low. “Let me get you something more festive than a coffee.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Trying to butter me up with wine now?”

You smiled. “Trying to stop you looking at me like that without a drink in my hand.”

He let that one slide with a smirk, following you without protest.

You left him to find a spare table amongst the Christmas shoppers and on your return, handed him a steaming cup of mulled wine. He accepted it with a quiet thanks, his fingers brushing yours, warm and steady.

“Do you always go this incognito?” you asked, watching the way he scanned the crowd even now, like he was still half on alert.

“Old habit,” he said. “Too many premieres and press lines. It sticks.”

You nodded, sipping slowly. “You don’t like it much, do you?”

He glanced at you, eyes thoughtful. “The work, I love. The rest of it? Not really built for that part.”

“You seem like you handle it fine.”

“That’s the trick,” he said, mouth curving slightly. “If you do it just well enough, they stop asking you to do more.” He shifted a little, his knees bumping yours under the table.

You tilted your head. “Is that the plan? Stay just under the radar?”

He gave a soft huff of laughter, looking down into his cup. “Something like that.”

A pause passed between you. Comfortable. Curious.

Tethered by something neither of you had quite named yet.

“You surprised me, you know,” you said, voice light, almost teasing.

That drew his eyes back to yours, sharp and curious. “Yeah?”

You tapped your fingers against your mug of steaming wine, the nerves buzzing somewhere deep under your skin. "I figured after the interview chaos, I'd be the last person you'd want to see. I definitely didn't think you'd... reach out."

He chuckled, low and rough, and leaned in a little across the table. His knee bumped yours under the table again, lingering this time. "Guess you’re just worth the chaos."

That earned him a grin, which he answered with a wicked one of his own.

You ducked your head, pretending to focus on your drink, but you felt the heat of his stare, heavy and warm. When you dared to glance up, his gaze had flicked, just briefly, to your mouth.

Your breath caught, you swallowed nervously.

The hum of the market faded away for a second, like the two of you existed inside a bubble.

“You know the internet thinks you're some kind of recluse?” You said, hoping to buy yourself a second to avoid doing something reckless.

He smirked, slow and devastating. "Better not tell them about this, then."

“And you don't date…”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve dated,” he said eventually. “Just... never liked sharing it with the world. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

You nodded, quiet for a moment.

“That makes sense,” you said softly. “The more people watching, the less of it you get to keep.”

He looked at you then, like he hadn’t expected you to get it, not really.

You finished the wine and took the mugs back to the counter. You walked a little slower after the stop off. Neither of you said as much, but you certainly didn't quite want the day to be done.

The crowd thinned as you neared the river, your footsteps falling in sync again, closer now. A few brushes of your shoulders. A stolen glance. Eventually, the shimmer of station lights came into view. It felt too soon.

At the edge of the station, the two of you hovered at the line between stay and go.

“I’m really glad you messaged,” you said, eyes on him now, not hiding it.

His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “I kept thinking about what I’d say if I did. It wasn’t my smoothest opener.”

You laughed, the sound softer this time. “No, but it worked.”

A breath passed between you, light but charged.

“I had fun,” you said honestly, your hand brushing his as you reached up to adjust your scarf.

He caught your gaze, lingering now. “Me too. I was hoping I would. But you sort of blew that expectation out of the water.”

Your heart tripped a little.

You stepped back a half-step. “Well. I guess… I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

The promise in his voice made you smile as he dipped his head, just a little, and turned into the crowd.

And somehow, despite the chaos of the last week… you felt lighter.

You didn’t know where this was going.

But you wanted to find out.

You watched him go, the crowd swallowing him up one careful step at a time.

Just as you turned to leave, a thought caught you, sudden, sharp.

“Oh, and good luck tomorrow!” you called after him, unsure if he heard it, but saying it anyway.

A second later, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Thanks, doll. You too.

And just like that, you were smiling all over again.

He should’ve known coffee wouldn’t be enough.

He’d told himself it was just a catch-up. Just a friendly hello. Just a way to say thanks for not making that interview awkward as hell and maybe a kudos for handling the following shitstorm like a pro.

But then she smiled at him like that. Laughed at his dryest jokes. Got flustered when he held eye contact too long. Teased him like they’d met more than just once.

And that was the moment he was screwed.

She’d tucked her scarf tighter against her neck, one hand balancing her takeaway cup, the other brushing his arm when they walked too close.

It wasn’t even deliberate.

That was what made it worse.

Or better.

He wasn’t sure yet.

Borough Market had been a blur, busy and loud, festive and chaotic, but she made it feel almost quiet. Like it was just the two of them weaving between the stalls.

She didn’t seem to mind the chaos.

Didn’t flinch at the attention.

Didn’t even seem to notice the camera phone or two he’d spotted. Or maybe she had, and just chose not to care. That was the part that stuck with him, she didn’t perform.

He’d expected the goodbye to be awkward. A vague see-you-around, maybe a polite nod.

But instead, she’d looked up at him like she didn’t want it to be over either.

And when she called out after him in the station, her voice clear and sure over the crowd, just to say good luck, he’d nearly turned back just to see her smile again.

And now here he was, back in his hotel room, coat still on, replaying every second like a damn teenager.

He’d been surprised when her message came through, he'd barely been in the room a minute.

He stared at it a second longer than he meant to, thumb hovering.

Then he replied.

Simple. Measured. Safer than I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you walked away.

Her teasing reply came quickly and he let her have the last word.

He set the phone down, stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t date. Didn’t do flirty message threads or smile at his screen like an idiot.

But there she was. Unbothered, funny, warm, and making him do all of those things.

He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing.

And for the first time in a long time… he didn’t mind.

Nominations were a thing other people got.

He never used to care about mornings like this, he never had any reason to. His movies occasionally showed up in stunt or FX categories. There were no expectations or disappointments.

But this morning?

He was watching his phone like a hawk.

The Critics Choice. The Globes.

Announced on the same day, and right as he needed to leave for the airport.

He watched the rain on the taxi window, forcing himself to stop waiting for it to ring.

It vibrated in his hand before the sound rang out.

“Sam?”

“Bro, you did it.”

He could hear it in Sam’s voice - that slightly stunned pride, like he’d been holding his breath for Bucky even if Bucky hadn’t asked him to.

“Globes and Critics. Best actor. Best film. Yelena’s up for Director at the Globes -"

“Not Critics?”

“Nah, man. That last spot went to the Cabaret director.”

“Shit.” He breathed, “holy shit.”

“I know,” Sam said, laughter threading through his words now. “It’s crazy. I’m proud of you, man. It’s all happening.”

Bucky felt something catch in his throat. “Thanks. I… yeah.” He exhaled. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Look, get your flight, get some rest. I’ll send you the links.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Congratulations, man. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam rang off and the phone sat idly in Bucky's lap.

It lit up with the links Sam had promised.

He opened the Golden Globes one first.

His name.

In a bolded list, alongside people he’d admired for years. Best Actor in a Drama.

His film. Best Picture.

Then he saw hers. Just underneath.

Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical.

His heart gave a weird, full sort of jolt.

He wasn’t surprised - she was so good, everyone had seen it, but seeing it there in print made something in him go still.

She deserved this.

She belonged here.

He was proud. Maybe a little awestruck.

And without thinking, he opened their messages.

Maybe it was the way her laugh still echoed in his head… That coffee date hadn’t just stuck with him, it had dug in.

The way she’d smiled up at him over her cup, that flutter of nerves she’d tried to hide, the way she’d lit up when he called her talented.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Or her.

Congratulations on the nomination, sweetheart. I told ya.

He waited maybe half a minute before locking his phone and tossing it on top of his bag like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t listening for it to buzz again.

It did. With messages from Yelena, from Joaquin… even a begrudging congratulations from John.

But her reply was the one he went to first.

A purple heart. He stared at it longer than he should’ve.

Then she sent a follow-up, bright and warm, something in his chest tightened. She made it easy. Too easy.

It wasn’t flirting. Not exactly. But it had that hum beneath it, the pull of something neither of them was saying outright.

And he could’ve stopped there. Could’ve left it polite.

He didn’t.

She was teasing him again by the third message. Playful. Open.

He’d tried to keep it cool.

But God, she made it hard.

And somewhere between their teasing and half-joking plans to grab coffee when they were back in the same city, he realised no amount of distance was going to save him.

Maybe she felt it too.

Or maybe he was imagining it.

Either way, he found himself typing out messages he didn’t send. Wondering if she was doing the same.

And then, it slowed.

Not because he wanted it to.

Not because she wasn’t still on his mind.

Just… life pulling at them both. Interviews, work calls, suit fittings. And maybe he wanted her to miss him a little too.

So after a few days, he felt it more than he meant to.

He'd become aware of the space she’d started to take up in his brain.

Of the way her name lit up his screen.

Of the way he kept checking, wondering which of them would be the first to crack.

It was always going to be him.

The next morning, before he could even finish his coffee, with the time difference closing in, he tapped the little camera icon beside her name.

What the hell was he doing?

The call rang. Once. Twice.

Then nothing.

Missed.

He cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his face. He never did shit like that. Never called people without warning. Never let nerves climb up his spine like this.

He fired off a quick dignity recovery message.

But then a new reply popped in.

Missed your call! I'm in LA getting glam for a press shoot, not quite decent rn. Hope everything’s okay x

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.

He was in deep.

Mid-morning in LA, you were sitting cross-legged in your hotel robe, trying not to overanalyze every single message in your inbox, when it came in:

Missed video call – Bucky Barnes

You froze. Your thumb hovered over the screen.

Then another buzz.

Didn’t mean to spook you. Just wanted to say hi.

You made a small, inhuman sound and flung the phone across the bed.

“Ok,” you called, your voice sounded too high, and strung out even to your own ears. “Ok what the hell am I meant to do with that?”

Lulu appeared in the doorway, makeup brush in hand, eyes immediately narrowing. “What did he do?”

“He FaceTimed me. And then messaged like it was normal.”

Dani’s voice came from behind her, mid-straightener pass. “Like, just now?”

“I mean, who does that? It’s illegal. That’s an illegal level of confidence.” You couldn't help sounding accusatory.

Lulu snatched up your phone from the bed. “Oh my god.”

“I haven’t replied,” you said, already spiraling. “Do I reply? Am I supposed to reply? Or is it weird if I reply too fast?”

Dani raised an eyebrow. “Babe, the man video called you. I think you’re allowed to text him back.”

Lulu handed your phone back with a snigger.

You tried to stay cool, fire off a super casual reply that didn't sound like you'd thought about nothing but him for the last few days.

“You know what you need?” Lulu said thoughtfully.

You groaned. “I swear to god, if you say a thirst trap I will disown you -”

“A classy thirst trap,” she corrected. “A little bit sexy, little flirty…”

In the background, Dani nodded sagely. “She's right. Robe shot. On the bed. Soft lighting. You’re welcome.”

“C'mon Dan, the fucking bed?”

She pointed at the bed next to the tray where your breakfast was still laid out.

“Bed, now.” She clicked the straighteners together menacingly.

You posted the photo five minutes later then threw your phone onto the bed and tried to pretend you weren’t watching it like a hawk.

It took him exactly three minutes.

You let out a gasp so dramatic that Dani nearly burned herself with the straighteners.

Lulu peeked over your shoulder and cackled. “Pack your bags babe, you’re done for.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, I’m in so much trouble.”

You weren’t imagining it. The post had blown up.

By the time your glam was done, you had texts from your publicist, your brother, and your ex (weird), all asking some variation of: “What’s going on with you and Bucky Barnes?”

You did not have an answer.

The comments were worse.

You didn't reply, this internet storm was his own making and you had to get to work.

The shoot ran long, lighting delays, a wardrobe change, a stubborn clasp on the back of a couture gown that nearly had Becka in tears. By the time you got back to your hotel room, your feet were aching and your face hurt from smiling.

You dropped your bag, kicked off your shoes, and finally checked your phone again.

The notifications were still rolling in, but you didn't dare entertain them.

Instead, you opened his message thread.

You hovered for a second, thumbs ready.

“You just can’t help breaking the internet, can you?”

You stared at it for half a second too long before hitting send.

Then you put your phone on charge across the room and let yourself fall back against the duvet.

“Can’t believe you commented,” Bucky muttered, arms crossed, cap low over his eyes like he could hide from the consequences of his own actions.

Across the aisle, Sam didn't even look up from his phone. “Me? You openly declared you'd like to eat her for breakfast, my friend.”

Bucky scowled. “I did not -”

“You did. The internet’s melting down. I’m getting tagged in memes. Again.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, muttering something about it not meaning like that.

Sam just smirked. “Uh huh. Tell that to the girl blushing in her Instagram story right now.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly very interested in the in-flight safety card. “It wasn’t like that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You threw a match in a comment on a thirst trap.”

“It was hardly a thirst trap.”

Sam gave him a look. “She posted it five minutes after your call. That’s tactical warfare, man. And you walked straight into the line of fire.”

Bucky leaned back, head thunking against the seat. “She looked good.”

Sam grinned, triumphant. “There it is.”

A second of quiet passed before Bucky muttered, “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You’re in so much trouble,” Sam agreed cheerfully. “But it’s the fun kind. You know, until it’s not.”

That earned a side-eye. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey,” Sam shrugged, “you brought this on yourself, pal. Just don’t catch feelings if you’re not ready to do something about it.”

From across the aisle, Natasha didn’t even look up from her iPad. “You video called her and then commented publicly. Do you want us to set up a billboard on Sunset?”

Bucky groaned. “Nat…”

“I’m just saying,” she said, flicking through looks for the pre-Globes party. “It’s a bold move for someone who allegedly doesn’t date.”

Sam leaned over, smirking. “Told him it was tactical warfare. She posted that robe shot five minutes after he called.”

Nat finally looked up. “She knew what she was doing.”

Bucky muttered something inaudible and tried to sink lower into his seat.

Sam grinned. “Oh, he’s cooked.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “Good. He’s overdue.”

Bucky shot her a glare. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. Which is why I’m making sure you don’t screw it up.” She tossed him a look over the top of her iPad. “You’re wearing the navy suit, by the way. No arguments.”

“I wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Good.”

The pre-Globes party was already buzzing when he arrived.

Flashbulbs sparked outside with a light that burned through his retinas and left an imprint on his brain. The braying crowd made him want to turn around and call it a night. But Nat had shoved him out of the car with a sharp “Chin up, soldier,” and there wasn’t much point in arguing with her. There never was.

Inside, it was all polished floors and too many famous faces in one room. Everyone dressed like they had something to prove. He tugged slightly at the collar of his navy suit, and ignored the way Sam grinned at him like he was waiting for something to happen.

Because he was. They both were.

His only saving grace was that there were no press invited, only a handful of official photographers.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

Not in person.

Not since the coffee.

And none of the photos he had seen had done her justice.

He was still scanning the crowd when Sam bumped his shoulder. “Don’t look now,” he said, low and gleeful, “but your breakfast just walked in.”

Bucky turned anyway.

And there she was.

Like all of his Christmases come at once.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

It gave him time to watch her. Take her in. The way she laughed with someone by the bar, hand fluttering to her collarbone. The way the soft fabric of her dress caught the light when she moved, like it had been made to be touched.

“Half the men in this room wish she was on their arm tonight,” Sam muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Bucky didn’t answer.

She'd moved to stand near the balcony doors, a flute of champagne in hand, laughing at something Steve Rogers murmured in her ear. Her dress caught the light every time she moved, like liquid. Steve leaned in closer. Easy, familiar, his palm resting just barely at her back.

Bucky’s jaw flexed.

She'd glanced around once or twice when she first arrived, scanning the room, with a little knit between her brows like she was looking for something. Or someone.

He hadn’t moved.

He wasn't sure his legs would actually work. Not when she looked like that - entirely unaware that she’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

Natasha appeared at his side, swirling her drink. “You plan on lurking all night?”

He didn’t answer.

She followed his gaze. “Ah. Of course.”

“It’s not -” he started, then stopped. “He's her co-star.”

“And he’s not her type,” Nat assured him after watching them for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” He tried to sound casual.

She smirked. “Because you are, dumny. Watch, every few seconds she's looking around for someone.”

His breath caught.

Nat patted his chest twice. “Go get your girl, Barnes. Before Steve steals your thunder.”

He threw her a quick smile and took off confidently across the room.

He watched it hit her, the moment she spotted him. Surprise. A flicker of nerves. And then that soft smile. Lit from the inside.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked him up and down.

Bucky swallowed hard.

God, she was beautiful.

Steve greeted him with a grin and clapped him on the back. Bucky answered on autopilot, eyes barely leaving her.

“Good to see you, pal.”

“You too. You clean up alright.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, like she was trying not to stare. But he caught the flicker in her eyes, the dip of her gaze, the flush blooming just under her highlighter.

“Figured I had to bring my A-game,” he said, only half a joke, because it was true.

Her smile curled slow and knowing. “Well, consider the internet broken.”

He smirked. “It’s good to see you again too.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve cut in, clearly missing the current, “you guys did that Variety thing. That was fun.”

“Lots of fun,” she said, eyes still locked on Bucky.

Steve launched in without noticing. “You gonna do that new one with me? That 1940s piece? Thor Odinson’s signed on to direct.”

Bucky forced a chuckle. “I dunno, Rogers. I might try theatre. I hear that’s where the real talent is.”

“You could be onto something. Matt Murdock got the rights to that space opera thing for Wanda to direct on Broadway.”

“Starlord,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

Her glass was empty. She shifted her weight, just a little, but he noticed.

Time to move.

“Rogers, I’ll catch you later?”

Steve clapped his shoulder again. “Count on it. You’re not weaseling out of Odinson’s movie.”

Bucky turned to her. “I’ll walk you to the bar.”

She didn’t answer. Just smiled, and moved, and that was answer enough.

The crowd was loud, electric. But next to her, everything softened..

When they reached the bar, she turned toward him, and he leaned in, just enough to be close, not enough to cross the line.

“You look incredible.”

Her breath caught. Just for a second. But he felt it.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, voice low, almost shy, but he noticed the tiniest movement of her eyes going to his mouth.

That hit harder than he was ready for.

“Yeah?” he murmured, eyes fixed on hers. “That’s a relief, sweetheart. Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

She didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off. Just looked up at him like she felt it too, like this thing between them wasn’t just in his head.

And in that moment, he knew.

He needed to kiss her.

He looked past her, just briefly, remembering the layout of the room, and then touched her wrist lightly.

“Come with me?” He murmured. Pleaded, just a little.

She looked confused, but did as he asked, following him to the outskirts of the room where he ducked into a corridor.

“Is everything OK?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, I just… yeah.”

“Probably not a good idea, hiding like this?”

“I know,” he dragged a hand across his jaw and then stepped closer to her before he could doubt himself. “I don't do this,” he whispered.

“Don't you?” She breathed.

“No. Not like this. Not… where anyone could… I can’t think straight unless I’m looking at you.”

She looked up at him, her tongue darting across her lower lip.

He reached out and trailed its path with the pad of his thumb, his hand coming to rest in the crook of her neck.

He heard her sigh as she reached up to meet him, her small hands on his chest. He was cautious, not wanting to rush her, but wanting everything at once.

As he pressed his lips to hers, he heard a faint moan, unsure whether it came from him, or her.

She tasted like champagne and something sweeter, something he hadn’t had in… such a long time, but suddenly couldn’t get enough of.

Her fingers curled in his lapel, steadying herself, or maybe pulling him in closer. He deepened the kiss just slightly, but only when he felt her pull.

Her tongue tentatively swept against his and she whimpered.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested lightly against his. Neither of them moved.

“OK?” she whispered, like she was asking some unspoken question that only he knew the answer to.

He huffed a soft laugh, the kind that only came from total, stunned relief.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “OK.”

He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. All he knew was that he needed to feel her, not just her hand on his chest, not just her whisper in his ear, he needed more. Needed her.

She stepped into him like she didn’t even notice she was doing it, like her body had made the decision before her mind caught up. His hand slid down her spine, anchoring her to him as their mouths found each other again, harder this time.

The kiss turned messier, more desperate.

His fingers gripped her hip, her nails scraped lightly across his chest and up to the nape of his neck. It wasn’t polite or careful, it was dangerously public but he couldn't bear to stop himself.

She gasped softly when his teeth grazed her bottom lip. He pulled back just enough to hear the sound, to see the dazed look in her eyes, then kissed her again.

It should’ve just been a kiss. Just one stolen moment in a hallway. But the way she kissed him back, like she’d missed it somehow, it undid him.

Her lips were swollen and her hands shook as she moved them from around his neck.

He didn’t step away.

For a second, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the muffled beat of music from the other room and their uneven breaths.

“Buck?”

Sam’s voice called out, somewhere down the corridor.

She tensed. He did too.

“Shit -, I look -”

“You look perfect,” he told her.

He took a reluctant step back, eyes flicking toward the doorway, then back to her.

“Later?” he asked, voice low. Hopeful.

She gave an uncertain nod, then she was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just knocked the air out of his lungs and left him trying to disguise how tight his pants had gotten.

And he was left staring after her, heart hammering, wondering how the hell he was supposed to act normal now. Or ever again.

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Triple Dog Dare You (Astarion x F!Reader) (Part 2 to Pinkie Promise)

CW: Angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of sexual trauma, mentions of bullying, mentions of parental death, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of voyeurism

Both titles have been inspired by the song ‘School Nights’ by Chappell Roan

Dedicated to @amica-aenigmata-naboo - thank you for demanding a part two 😂

Part 1: Pinkie Promise?

✨this has been proof read once and I have been awake and working since 3 am. It is not 10:04 pm. Please help✨

You finish your letter by folding it into thirds and then writing ‘Star’ on the back. You take a deep breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth- reminding yourself that you already know he likes you back, you are just taking that last extra little step. You also can’t attempt to write this letter again- this is your 8th draft, the others turning into flames in your hands very quickly.

You want to ask Astarion to be in a serious relationship with you. You have only been seeing each other (as far as you know) and you’ve spent almost everyday sleeping with him in his tent since you had ventured into the Underdark. Most of the time- you don’t even have sex. You stay up talking together and sharing soft kisses- no clothes, just intimacy. You adore those moments immensely.

Life around camp has also been good- everyone is finally beginning to get along. Shadowheart and Lae’zel even silently respect each other now. It feels like one big happy family and you are grateful for them when this whole journey feels far too big and scary.

Recently, you and your crew have been playing an ongoing game of “Triple Dog Dare”. The only rule is you can’t dare someone in the middle of a battle or a serious mission. Otherwise- it’s all fair game and if you decline to do it, you have to take the darers’ guard duty or help them with a chore. The chores were limited to one task and it can’t be taking down a whole tent + equipment- the one time Astarion had to take down Gale’s tent had been disastrous. The dare had been to allow Gale to take you on a date- Astarion shot back with a “I triple dog dare you to swallow my fucking knife wizard.” All parties (minus Astarion) agreed that this dare was not to be followed through on.

The game has had… less than favorable results. Watching Wyll and Karlach streak across the camp while you were piss drunk was awful. Oh and the time Gale almost died because Wyll dared him to spy on the two of you for 20 minutes. You hadn’t heard his thoughts, but Astarion had. His head had shot up from between your legs with a furious look in his eyes. Astarion had covered your naked frame up quickly with his shirt (his trousers still on) and chased after Gale until he pushed the man into the freezing Underdark water.

The group then had to make a few more rules people didn’t realize they had to make. In Gale’s defense- Wyll didn’t specify and Wyll is a real snob about which chore he gives the person. It’s also the worst chore and usually includes de-stinking his boots. You are almost positive Wyll does this on purpose as repayment for all the headaches this groups’ shenanigans has given him-oh and the horns.

Karlach triple dog dared you today to finally confess your feelings to Astarion. You had gawked at her and then dared her to do the same with Dammon. You shook on it and it was done.

Finding out that Astarion’s life is in far more danger than any of them had realized shook you to your core. You are tired of wasting time being afraid to ask him what you already know (or at least hope you know). You are silently grateful that Karlach has given you the push you needed (you doubt she would have actually made you do anything- she wouldn’t put you on blast like that).

It just never felt like the right time in the past. Having your life be in constant danger is kind of a romance killer and you aren’t sure how the hell you are supposed to do this.

Do you court him? Do you ask him to court you?

You ultimately settled on just flat out telling him your feelings- politics be damned. It’s not like you were welcome in High Society anyway.

Now you are in the safety of Last Light Inn and it feels like the right time to bring this up. You worry that waiting any longer will result in him looking for someone more serious or maybe you would always just be a person he slept with during the journey to his freedom.

You hope you are more than that and you are almost positive you are. The way he looks at you, kisses you, and talks to you is so genuine- his eyes are always so soft and so are his lips. He protects you and you protect him. You adore him and you think he adores you too.

So naturally, walking up behind him and Shadowheart talking isn’t a nerve wracking endeavor to you. This is all going to go off without a hitch!

Or so you thought.

Your ears twitch and you barely hear what they say to each other, but you do. Gods you wish you hadn’t.

“You are insufferable, Cleric.” Astarion groans, “I already told you my answer.”

“Oh please- you follow them around like a lovesick puppy. You can’t honestly tell me you have absolutely no feelings for them.”

Shadowheart takes a long sip of her pint and raises an eyebrow at him. You remain in the shadow- your heart thumping out of your chest. Maybe he’ll say a lot of wonderful things about you? Maybe your hopes will be-

“Nope, not a single feeling outside of my carnal desires,” he says nonchalantly, “that’s all it’s been and they know that.”

Oh.

You feel all the air leave your lungs as you crumple your letter and shove it in your pocket. You don’t know why you insist on listening further.

“Then I triple dog dare you to go talk to someone and take them to bed. You will have no problem bedding that Harper who keeps giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes- I’m sure.”

Oh please no.

“You offend me- that’s hardly a challenge,” he says while standing up, sauntering over to the Harper that is eyeing him.

You promptly turn around and hurry out of the building. You can’t breathe. You should have known better.

You had always been Tav the Guillable, the Plain, the Insufferable, etc, etc. You had been thrown at your aunt and uncle when your parents passed. Your aunt and uncle lived in a nice Human only city and you are a ‘filthy half-breed.’

One of the boys in your Archery class found out you had a crush on him so he asked you to meet him by the river. You showed up with wild flowers for him- something your mother told you Wood Elf’s do to show affection. He showed up with your entire class- all of them laughing at you for being stupid enough to believe he liked you and then his future partner beat the shit out of you before throwing you into the rushing water. You wished you hadn’t survived, but a nice family who was tolerant towards Half breeds saved you. Your Aunt and Uncle were pissed. Admittedly, so were you.

They treated you terribly- constantly trying to marry you off to old men who you would turn away with your boorish behavior.

You really thought you had it right this time. Everything felt so natural and right- like you had been made for each other. What did you not pick up on? What did you miss this whole time? How could you have been so blind?

You pick up your bedroll on the way out- you were all going to sleep on the floor of the inn with the rest of the Harpers and Refugees, but you couldn’t pretend you wanted to be near Astarion like he does with you. You aren’t ready to confront him- you aren’t ready for the pretty illusion to be completely shattered and swept under the rug yet. You were just getting used to being someone he loved and now the whole world is crumbling underneath you.

It was barely anything- obviously- so why does it hurt this much?

You find yourself in front of Damon’s metal shop and he’s talking to Karlach. You clear your throat and they both look at you. Karlach suddenly looks concerned when she sees the look on your face.

“Could I sleep above your shop tonight?” You say with a strained voice, “behind the hay? I just… need to be alone.”

“Sure thing- it’s all yours.”

You smile gratefully at him and begin to climb up the ladder.

“Do you want me to tell Fangs, Soldier?”

You can hear the question in her voice. She is your best friend after all.

“No- please don’t,” you smile at her sadly, “I would prefer he doesn’t know where I am.”

Karlach nods in understanding, giving you a sad smile, and you go behind the hay and lay out your bedroll. It smells like him and you don’t know if that’s helping or hurting at this point, but you are mostly too tired to care.

Your heart hurts as you try to find sleep. You throw the crumpled note across the little loft and silently begin to cry.

At least you knew what it felt to give and receive love- even if it was false and unrequited the entire time.

*****************************************

Astarion is barely present for the conversation with the Harper male who is trying to impress him into bed. Astarion is only thinking of you and how much he wants to get this over with so you can find a more secluded spot together. Every morning to every night feels like far too long to wait to have a tender moment with you.

Astarion imagines leaving lingering kisses along your collar bones and your cheeks. He thinks about how he desperately needs to rebraid your hair. It’s been frizzy and unruly from all the fog- the baby hairs sticking out all over the place. He also needs to patch up your armor again- your Meilikki Cleric Armor ripped apart from the events of yesterday.

Mostly though, he wants to spend the off day tomorrow with just you. Astarion wants to find somewhere to hide or even just rent a room so that you can just be in each other’s presence un interrupted by the world. Astarion’s heart glows at the thought of the sexless intimacy you share. He’s so happy it’s not a priority to you- it’s allowed him to do things at his own pace and as he wants to which is very freeing to him.

Astarion had finally admitted to himself that his plan had well and truly failed- he has fallen for you very hard.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to lie to Shadowheart. He mostly just didn’t want to be pressured to leap forward. Astarion isn’t sure if you want to be something real with him and he also doesn’t know if you are hell bent on being a proper noble woman who marries a proper noble man. It would break his heart if you rejected him and Astarion has no desire to feel that way. For now, Astarion will bask in his peaceful ignorance.

The Harper man eventually scowls at Astarion and tells him to fuck off if he isn’t interested. Astarion goes back to Shadowheart with an annoyed look on his face.

“Fine- you win, Cleric,” Astarion scowls, “I have feelings for them. I couldn’t even give that man a moment of my attention because I couldn’t stop thinking about them so if you will excuse me-“

Shadowheart squeals in delight and Astarion rolls his eyes. Astarion walks around the entire inn and property- you are nowhere to be found. Astarion is beginning to become more and more worried. Astarion is pacing out front when Karlach and Dammon come up to the Inn- ready to hit the sack.

“Karlach,” Astarion says, a bit more panicked than he means to, “where is Tav? I’ve been looking for them everywhere and I can’t find them!”

Karlach looks suddenly uncomfortable and like she definitely knows where you are.

“Karlach if you know where Tav is-“

“I do!” She says exasperated, “but they specifically asked that you don’t know and I don’t blame them! You gonna go fuck them and pretend to have feelings for them again for the billionth time?”

Astarion is stock still and horribly confused. What in the hells is she talking about? Karlach shoves a piece of crumpled paper into his hands and shakes her head at him.

“You know- if you are going to fuck with someone’s feelings,” Karlach tries to keep her patience, “maybe don’t pick the nicest person in the room. Honestly Fangs- fuck you. I thought you were better than that.”

Astarion is at a loss for words- which is very rare for him. He slowly unfolds the note- hoping it might put some of the pieces together.

Star,

I have really come to enjoy your company and our time together.

I am quite smitten with you and I’m too nervous to say this out loud, but I would like to be able to call you my partner (in a romantic sense)- if you return my feelings, that is.

If not, no worries. All I want is for you to be happy.

-Tav

The pieces click together like a haunting tune.

You had heard everything that was said between him and Shadowheart. Obviously you didn’t stick around for the important part, but Gods you must be heartbroken.

Astarion has to assume you were hiding somewhere in Damon’s shop if Karlach is the one who knows where you are. He had been avoiding the shop initially so that Karlach could have her privacy with Dammon. Now it’s fair game.

Astarion quickly walks towards the shop and as soon as he enters- his ears pick up your quiet sobbing. Your thoughts are loud and unguarded- his words playing in your head over and over again. You are wondering why you aren’t good enough. Astarion finally sees what you have refused to show him- your parents are long gone, despite the fact that you talk about them as if they are waiting for you to come home. Your Aunt, Uncle, cousins, and an entire society have rejected you, humiliated you, and belittled you. This just happens to be the salt in the wound. You keep looping through the thought of how stupid you are to have missed this of all damn things. How could you even begin to think he would actually want you? Plain, boring, ugly, half-breed Tav.

Oh my Darling, what have I done?

Shadowheart had been teasing him relentlessly ever since you had all arrived back to the safety of Last Light Inn. You had led them all to support Astarion in finding out more about the scars carved into his back. It had been incredibly dangerous and Shadowheart had had to heal him more than usual- he kept putting himself between you and every bomb, warrior, etc. He wanted her to stop- he likes the privacy of his little world with you.

Now he’s demolished that world and your heart in less than an hour. Astarion was actually nervous earlier- realizing how deep his feelings for you are and how much he wants something real with you. He just isn’t close enough with Shadowheart to share those feelings out loud willingly. Astarion is thrilled that you feel the same way, but now he isn’t sure he can convince you that his feelings are genuine and not a giant lie.

Astarion slowly makes his way up the ladder and he hears your sobbing stop- one single sniffle occurring before silence.

“Darling?” he asks quietly.

The air is tense and Astarion feels more nervous than a school boy with a crush. You hiccup.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is strained and cracks- he can hear the effort you put into trying to make your voice sound steady and normal.

You are definitely not happy with him. You usually address him as Star when he first arrives in your orbit.

Astarion takes it as a good sign that you are at least willing to speak with him.

“It’s come to my attention that you may have overheard a conversation without context and without staying until the end,” Astarion says slowly, “I was hoping you might let me explain myself.”

You sit up gingerly, your head bent, and look up at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen- you often worry it between your teeth when you are upset. He doesn’t like when you are upset, but he does love how incredibly delicious it makes your lips look. Your skin is under a veil of tears and your cheeks are stained pink from you rubbing away the sadness from your face. It’s unfair how beautiful a crier you are.

Astarion decides to go against his better judgement and he crawls towards you. You look at him with a guarded expression, but you don’t fight him as he pulls you into his lap- his fingers moving the hair out of your face and wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“Shadowheart was teasing me for being… overly concerned with your safety today,” Astarion begins, “I just didn’t want to- her and I aren’t close enough for me to-“

Astarion huffs in frustration and looks down at the floor momentarily before making direct eye contact with you. He decides to use the tadpole- maybe showing will make more sense than explaining.

Astarion shows you his original intentions of manipulating you- his musings over your beauty, but your aggravating naivety and the annoyance at your persistent kindness. He feels you flinch a little, but your body begins to relax against his as you watch his feelings change. Astarion lets you see all of his jealousy, confusion, fear, and adoration for you. He even lets you see his turmoil during sex. Astarion enjoys himself with you- more than he’s ever enjoyed himself with anyone, but the self-loathing and disgust pose a challenge during intimate moments.

Lastly, Astarion shows you how scared he is to lose you. He lets the feeling consume him and he feels like he’s a rope ready to snap at any moment. His mind wanders to how much he doesn’t ever want to have to miss you- the beautiful moments you have shared together and how much joy you have brought to his life. You make him want to be a better person- well at least in your presence. Astarion would do just about anything for you.

You press your forehead to his and release a relieved sigh. Astarion pulls you in for a deep, tender kiss. The kiss is needy, but not in a sexual way. Astarion needs you to know that he really does adore you- his affections are absolutely not fake.

He finally has to pull back to let you breathe and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You make me so so happy, Darling,” Astarion whispers tearfully, “I really don’t want to lose you.”

“Star, I adore you for all the sentimental reasons,” your eyes sparkle as you look at him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Astarion tries not to show how relieved he is, but the way his shoulders slump gives him away.

“We don’t have to have sex, you know,” you say quietly, “I can wait until you are ready. I want you to be happy and feel loved more than anything.”

Astarion is surprised by the choked sob that escapes his lips- pulling you in closer.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Yeah well,” you pull back and smile at him, “I triple dog dare you to prioritize your wants and needs first!”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you and tries to hide the grateful tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You are his most favorite person across all the planes. He is so grateful for you, your patience, and how much you try to understand him so that you can support his healing from centuries of abuse.

“Cheeky pup.”

You grin widely, “the cheekiest.”

“Hmmm well,” Astarion slyly smirks, “if we are going to play this childish game…”

You pout, jutting your lower lip out. Astarion places a chaste kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear.

“I triple dog dare you to be something real with me.”

Astarion’s nerves are going haywire- praying to every God he can think of that you still want to be serious with him.

Your smile could light up the entirety of the Shadow Cursed Lands. You give him a short sweet kiss on the cheek and A kunik*.

“Dare accepted.”

*A kunik means nose kiss in Inuit

[httpiastri]

❣️ I just read your confession post for oscar and others! Can you do it for other drivers like Paul, Ollie, and Kimi? Love your writing! You inspired me to start my own Formula blog :D

❣️ – send me a prompt and one/a few drivers and i'll tell you how i think they would react!!

paul aron

paul is no stranger to short-lived flings and summer romances, but he's not as familiar with the feeling of his heart fluttering the way it does whenever he thinks about you. he isn't used to the way that he thinks about telling you whenever something good happens to him, nor the way that he wants to ask for your help when he's going through something. he doesn't understand why you're the first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing on his mind before he falls asleep. it takes him so long to figure out these new feelings, and when he eventually realizes that he's falling for you, he just gets scared.

he has no experience with these feelings, and everything he's heard about real relationships – commitment, trust, loyalty – sounds terrifying. but it doesn't take long for him to realize that it's worth it if it's with you.

i think the confession itself would be quite impromptu and unplanned. i'm imagining a movie night at his place, with you cuddled up to his side, when he just can't hold back anymore. when he asks if he can tell you something, he sounds just as playful as he usually does, so you never could've guessed the words that fall from his lips after that. "you're so... special. in a good way, a great way. and i... i think i'm falling for you."

ollie bearman

i see ollie as... kind of shy in this way? he isn't embarrassed or cowardly, but something in him makes that first real step a little too hard to take. i think ollie would much rather find a romantic, subtle way to do it.

one day, you're surprised to hear your doorbell ringing – you aren't expecting anyone, right? and you didn't order anything, did you? when you open your door, you find only a big bouquet of flowers standing outside it. you smile to yourself as you pick it up, your mind instantly wandering off to the tall, handsome brit you've been spending a lot of time with recently, who has had a bit of a habit of giving you flowers. this bouquet is especially big, though, and you try to search through your mind for any possible major occasion the bouquet could be for as you bring it inside.

but when you set it atop your dinner table, a note falls out from in between the flowers. and on the note, in ollie's messy handwriting, comes that confession you've been waiting so long for.

i like you. i really like you, and i would love to see what we could be. only if you feel the same way, of course. (please forget about all of this if you don't)

i'm sorry for not having the courage to say this to your face, but i would love to see you tonight if you're free. please call me.

sincerely, your bear ☺︎♡

kimi antonelli

kimi would be very spontaneous about it. he would not be planning it; it would come as just as much of a surprise to him as to you. i see it coming when you're sitting next to each other in class/the truck/etc, and you've been playing around with him and bothering him for quite a while. when you notice that your attempts to disturb his focus haven't worked, you turn to tickle him in hopes that it will work better – and it definitely does.

kimi folds over instantly, gasping loudly as his own hands come down to wrap around your wrists. "you're so annoying!" he exclaims, switching to hold both of your wrists in just one of his hands, as his other hand gives you a playful slap across the face. "you're lucky i like you so much, otherwise..."

you both come to a halt at his words, neither of you having expected them. instead of addressing it, though, he settles for moving his hands to tickle you instead, hoping to distract you from what just happened. you definitely won't forget, though, but the change is only for the better.

[maleyanderecafe]

Apple for a Teacher: A Yandere Love Story (Visual Novel)

Created by: ataraxic

Genre: Horror/Romance

The screenshots on this one are a bit different because I played this game on my mac instead of my pc, so it looks a little weird on the preview. I played a previous game by this creator called Yandere Love: Chains of Fate, which features another character. This one features another character in this world, Ciel. If you've read my previous review on this series, you'll know my overall feelings about this game as well, because despite the couple of years that I haven't thought about this game, I still have the same opinions on it.

The story starts with the MC going to university. They're happy that they're finally free from their professor Ciel as they've finally passed their class. We learn that the MC really hates Ciel as he's very blunt and seems to have a vendetta against the MC. The MC was failing Ciel's class, so Ciel helped to tutor them, as the MC doesn't really know anyone else on campus. They're very happy when they find out that they're able to pass the class and don't have to deal with Ciel anymore and even more excited that they got into an elusive internship on campus. Ciel ends up asking the MC to a fancy dinner at an Italian place as a celebration of them passing their classes. The MC accepts as they want to eat at a fancy place and gets (begrudgingly) driven back to her place by his chauffeur. Ciel waits for the MC to change into more proper clothing as well as criticizes a lot of their outfits in the meantime. At some point, Ciel ends up seducing (?) the MC unintentionally and they can either go further or try to deny it.

If the MC goes further, Ciel and them will end up having sex, with Ciel even confessing that he's always loved the MC. Afterwards, however, the MC seems to be in shock about what they've done and attempts to push Ciel away.

If the MC decides to deny it and push Ciel down, Ciel will get angry and end up raping the MC, traumatizing them. The MC tries to get Ciel to leave afterwards.

Ciel, however, isn't having that as he's been looking for a partner to have children and live together with. He ends up forcing the MC to pack up and essentially kidnaps them. As the MC is forced into the car, they think about how no one will know that they're gone, as they have no family nor friends, with the only people who really would notice would be the fact that their internship might be looking for them. They end up falling asleep in the car before waking up chained to the bed. Ciel waits for them to wake up, introducing them to their new life together.

If you've read my previous review on Yandere Love: Chains of Fate, you'll probably know a lot about my criticisms with this game. The artwork and design of everything looks wonderful as always. The backgrounds, sprites and UI are all really professionally made and the music itself is pretty nice too. Unfortunately, I just don't really like the style of how this person writes too much because the relationship between the MC and the ML is usually just not fun to read (for me).

The MC of this game is different than the one in Dameon's game but instead of being pretty frankly stupid and making dumb decisions, they instead are very cynical and bitter of their position. It makes sense to a specific extent considering that Ciel loves to berate them but it does encapsulate a lot of the things I don't like about MCs in a lot of the more recent yandere vns I've played. A lot of yandere MCs tend to have this kind of cynical attitude- they dislike the job or position they're in, tend to be very grumbly about everything and don't really have any friends, and if they do have family they tend to not be on good terms with them. That in itself isn't necessarily always bad, however, it does get tiring to read. As my friend Cherry says, it's hard to really root for these types of MCs if we the audience can't even see why the yandere might be into them. I usually don't really mention this in my recommendations because the MC isn't really the main appeal of the game (and most people end up self inserting regardless), but it does get annoying when I have to go through the same type of personality over and over again. In some cases, it makes more sense as there is a bit of backstory into why this MC might act like this which is more understandable. This MC falls into a lot of the tropes of the recent MCs including the part where they find the yandere hot and bang him despite only really knowing him for a bit (and in this case also hating him, which is a whole other thing). I know there is such thing as hatesex, however, there wasn't really any indication of the MC finding Ciel attractive until right before the two of them have sex. It's also strange to me that they don't even try to fight (?) Ciel at all when he gets them to pack up their things and get in the car. It makes more sense in the route where Ciel rapes the MC, but otherwise it still feels sudden like it came out of nowhere. I would have thought there would have been at least some resistance or a proper threat that Ciel would have made. To be honest, I think this is likely also a problem with the pacing of certain choices as the MC's actions make a lot more sense if Ciel does end up raping them instead of simply just having sex with him.

Ciel is... mean, to say the least. In Dameon's case while he was usually just mean if the player chose decisions that he didn't like, Ciel is just straight up cruel. Not only does he outright insult the MC for not being able to pass his class and berates them while tutoring the MC, he also criticizes the MC's wardrobe choice when they're trying to find the right outfit for the dinner, even calling the MC a whore at one point, which I feel is super uncalled for (although kind of funny out of context), which the MC simply just... brushes off. There isn't really any indication that Ciel even likes the MC, which you could say is part of his more tsundere (well, I'd assume it would be tsundere, though we don't really see the deredere part) attitude, which makes the sudden kidnapping pretty jarring. It's hard to say why Ciel might even like the MC other than they're attractive and possibly easy to control, but the demo doesn't go far enough to tell what is going on. We do know that Ciel has a more traditional view of life, wanting to (essentially) have a "wife" and children, living together- similar to Vincent in Dead Wishes though we have yet to see the full progression of it. This type of yandere is pretty interesting as I don't really see it that often nowadays (and it is pretty cool seeing what they do to try to maintain that ideal) so hopefully in future iterations, this is shown more for the story. Still though, Ciel is very unlikable, even in terms of characters you hate to love kind of way, at least in my opinion. Besides that, he is rich and kidnaps the MC in a fairly nice place all things considered, though he's just as rude to them when they wake up. I can see people liking Ciel in a horror type of way because the game itself does do pretty well in setting up a more horror like story of being kidnapped, raped and forced to marry, but I would not at all call this a romantic type game even in the slightest even though the relationship seems to be more of a love hate one. Perhaps it might change in the future, but as of current, I'm not really buying that Ciel is in love with the MC.

So as I said, this game is not for me, however, if you did like the previous Yandere Love: Chains of Fate, then you will probably like this one as well. If any of this did interest you, then please give it a try.

[dailydelulu]

Original Work- "Happily Ever After?"

Hi, so some of you were asking for my original works, so I'm deciding to post a few of them! Currently, I have a selection of monster romance stories, which are all monster x reader for now. Each reader is based on an OC I had paired with my monster OCs, which I plan to write each into full-length stories one day. I just went with x reader style so it can be more inclusive!

Pairings: Dragon Hybrid x Fem! princess reader

Trope: Fairytale flip - strong princess lead- grumpy x sunshine

Summary: A princess is forced to be stuck in a tower by her father, the king, guarded by an unusually grumpy dragon hybrid she considers her best friend. All she has to do is wait around for Prince Charming, but she's tired of waiting!

And maybe some princesses wish to pick up their own sword?

And maybe sometimes the monster had more of a heart than a prince?

And maybe sometimes a snobby prince needs to get roasted (literally)

Note: Please ignore any mistakes/ quality issues. I wrote this a year ago when I first really got into taking writing seriously- plus, I LOVE a good fairy tale twist with a powerful princess who bends the rules

Once upon a time…

there was a princess locked away in a tower guarded by a dragon, and she was very, very, very bored.

So bored she was currently attempting to test if mixing Firelily pollen and glowshrooms would cause a small explosion like she had read in an old spell book she had found in the tower. Luckily the last owner of it was some eccentric wizard who had left behind a lot of his stuff.

“Princess, how many times must I tell you, no more explosive potions in the tower!” a deep, booming voice came from behind her, “Put the ingredients down now!” 

It was Zephyrion, the dragon that guarded her tower, but you liked to call him Zephyr for short. You turned to face him taking in the grumpy look on his face he had most days. 

The thing about Zephyr is that he wasn’t actually a dragon, he was a dragon hybrid meaning he looked like most humans with his medium brown skin and longish hair he kept swept back into a tight ponytail, except for the large wings on his back, golden horns that branched off his frost colored hair, and a golden scaled tail that matched the scales scattered across his forearms. You also thought he had fangs, but he never smiled enough to get a look at them.

 Actually, now that you think about it, had he ever smiled since you met him a year ago after your father had hired him to guard your tower from any intruders? The only thing he ever seemed to do was worry about you and complain about the ways you kept yourself occupied in such a boring place. He was strict, protective, and always grumbled. 

“Come on Zephyr! I need something to keep from going insane in this tower!” you argued.

“Last time you tried one of your potions you caught your gown on fire!” He snapped back.

“That gown was ugly anyway!”

He sighed, “What am I going to do with you, princess? Now find some other less flammable spell.”

“I thought dragons liked fire,” you mumbled without Zephyr hearing as you packed the ingredients away on the shelf you kept your potion things on while flipping through the spellbook for a new spell.  Potions were your most recent hobby you had picked up while in the tower; one of about 100. If you were going to be forced to sit in a tower, you weren’t going to sit around acting afraid when you could be learning something useful.  You had tried reading, botany, swordplay, learning elvish languages, cartography, painting, magic, studying the history of every kingdom on the continent, poetry, and now…potion making. Of course, Zephyr was left to be the test subject of all your new interests, much to his annoyance.

It was always this way with Zephyr:

“Princess, stop sneaking up on me with an invisibility spell!”

“Princess, no, you can not have ice cream for dinner!” 

“Princess, get off the roof of the tower! How did you even get up there?”

He liked to call you a menace to society, but you just thought it was doing anything to keep yourself from losing your mind after your father decided to lock you away in this tower for some prince to take you away just like every other princess in the kingdom of Adaria. The tradition ran back for hundreds of years - every princess was sent to a tower on her 18th birthday to wait for a prince to defeat some sort of danger in the way and then rescue you with the promise of your hand in marriage.  You had pleaded with your parents not to send you to the same fate, and just when you thought you had convinced them you woke up on your birthday surrounded by the stone walls of the tower nestled in the mountains of Adaria with Zephyr staring at you.

You hated it. The tower was suffocating. It was control. Sometimes it was almost as if you could feel the choice to choose your own fate slipping from your fingers as the days passed by.  

“I hate this stupid tower!” you complained, stacking more potion bottles on the shelf, “I can’t stay here another day!”

“Yes, you can. Quit complaining already. I have to hear this every single day,” Zephyr said with an exasperated sigh.

“Why should I? Anyone would complain in a place like this!” you shoved the potion book back in its place and slammed your hand on the table.

“Is my company that tortuous?” he asked with a rare hint of amusement.

It wasn’t…Zephyr was the only thing that made the tower more bearable, despite the storm cloud that seemed to follow his attitude wherever he went. He was the one who listened to you ramble on about every book you read, didn’t make fun of your poems even if you knew they were terrible, and patched up every bruise and cut you got from your many failed escape attempts. Not to mention he was fiercely protective of you, never backing down from any sort of danger that threatened the tower in the past. Of course…this tended to make him a bit too cautious of you, but you could overlook it. The dragon who was supposed to terrify you had become your friend.

“No, it’s not,” you admitted and pushed your potion notes to a corner on the desk to make room, sitting down on the edge of it, “I only want to make my own choices.”

“I can’t do that. Your father entrusted me to keep you in this tower and safe at all times,” he explained, rolling his eyes. This conversation was an everyday thing for him. 

“It’s my life and I should get to choose!” Something finally snapped within you at that moment and all the resentment you had been carrying around poured out leaving you feeling nothing but - freed. 

 “My father never cared about me or he wouldn’t have locked me away!” you shoved the notes off your desk, “It’s my life and he should have never tried to plan it out for me.”

Zephyr walked over to the desk towering over you, “I swore to keep you safe for the King, keep you in this tower, and above all else stay loyal to you. You’re not leaving.” he said in a stern tone as his amber eyes bore down at you.

“I can’t stay here forever,” you snapped.

“Enough of this. My word is final!” he ordered with a huff. He was so close you could feel the warm breath against your skin, noticing it felt warmer than most people. Maybe it was his dragon side that made it warmer?

You watched as Zephyr turned his back to you and went back to his post by the tower window.

“I’m going to escape,” you continued, “And I’m not stopping this time.”

“Go ahead and try, I’ll come and catch you again,” Zephyr retorted, keeping his back turned as his eyes scanned outside for any intruders. Gods, he was paranoid!

Finally, you started with a different approach you felt would work.

“Do you really want some random prince to come and marry me?” you asked.

Zephyr turned around and leaned against the wall while crossing his arms, “What?”

“The whole point of this tower is for some prince to come along and save me and I’ll have no choice but to marry him. I don’t want that! Do you want a prince to come here and take me away?”

He looked away suddenly, not able to meet your gaze for once. 

 “No,” Zephyr snarled and added with a hint of jealousy, “I don’t want a prince to take you away.” 

Wait, was Zephyr jealous of the prince? Could he have liked you even if he acted annoyed all the time? No, there wasn’t any chance of that, but now that you knew he didn’t like the idea, you could work with it. 

“So…why not escape with me?” you asked, “The last few times I tried the height of the tower got in my way, so then I realized the key was you. You could fly us out!”

“What about you?” he argued, “Even with me, it’s not like you could defend yourself enough to survive out there.”

“Didn’t I win last time we sparred?” you asked putting your hands on your hips.

Once a week, Zephyr helped you train in self-defense and with various types of blades; it was a weekly tradition.

“My shoulder was hurting,” Zephyr mumbled defensively.

“And it was hurting because of what I did to you the week before,” you added.

“Fine!” Zephyr admitted looking defeated, “But do you even have a plan? Escaping won’t just be getting out of the tower. The King will send his best soldiers looking for you, and word will spread quickly.”

“Oh, I have a plan.” You bent down and pried a loose board from the tower floor. Underneath, there was a bag full of supplies, food, and your sword.

“Impressive,” Zephyr noted peering into the hole in the floor, “So you do have a plan.”

“I’ve been planning for months,” you explained hoisting the heavy bag from the floor and dumping the contents out. 

“I have food, medical supplies, a few spells, and enough gold to last us months,” you pointed out each of the items.

“So you have supplies, but do you even know where we would go?” Zephyr asked dismissively, “You won’t be able to stay in Adaria for long after we leave. We need a place to go.”

“I already have that figured out,” You grabbed one of your maps hung on the wall and spread it out on your desk tracing your finger along a marked path, “There’s a path through here near the tower where we can hide at a few stops along the way. We should be able to stay in a few inns until word gets out that I’m missing, and then if we can get to the Boggsport Bay we can get a ship to Ilyrara which is far enough away nobody will find us.”

“And how will we hide from your father?” he asked still unconvinced.

You circled a large green portion of the map, “We cut through the Enchanted Wood.

Nobody would ever follow us there.”

“The Enchanted Wood is dangerous. It’s full of unstable magic, monsters, and poisonous plants that you know nothing about,” Zephyr sighed in frustration, “Nobody but a fool would attempt that.” 

“I may not know anything about the magic there,” You stepped closer and poked your finger to his chest with a teasing grin, “But you do.”

He glanced down at your hand and huffed, “I’m supposed to keep you safe. Not to mention if I get caught-”

How could you have been so stupid? Of course, Zephry could get in trouble for this!

“I could always say I forced you to go,” you tried.

“Nobody would believe you.”

Even if you didn’t want to admit it,he had a point. Magical beings in Adaria were looked down upon and once even hunted, dragon hybrids especially.  To stop it, they were forced into servitude by humans. If Zephry broke his oath, he could be executed. Unless…

“Doesn’t your oath say you have to be loyal to me above all else?” you asked.

“Yes. Why?” 

“So sticking by me counts, doesn’t it?”

The idea seemed to click, but he was still hesitant, “Princess, are you sure about this? If something were to happen to you, I couldn’t bear it. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“And don’t you think keeping me locked away in a tower and unhappy is the actual danger here?” you reasoned praying to the gods he would see your side of things, “All I’ve ever wanted was to choose my own path instead of having one forced upon me! I need this.”

“And all I ever wanted was to keep you safe, but this isn’t right,” he bent down on his knee to meet your gaze. A large hand reached up and cupped your cheek gently, “A tower is too small for someone who deserves the stars.”

“So you’ll escape with me?” you asked.

“I never once planned to leave your side. I’ll go with you wherever your dreams take you if you’ll have me.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him into a hug, “I want you there for all of them.”

Obviously not used to such affection, Zephyr attempted to bring his arms around you in an awkward manner. 

Moments later, you had gathered all your things into your bag, got the map, and strapped your favorite sword to your side ready to finally leave. You had also changed into a tunic, trousers, and a pair of boots more suited for the journey than your gowns in order to hide your identity, but you had decided to keep one necklace with the royal seal just in case you ever needed proof of your royal status.

Zephyr grinned, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but dresses before.”

“Is it bad?”

“Although you always looked lovely in the dresses,” he nodded, “This suits you.”

Stepping up to the window, you gave the tower one last look around recalling all the harsh memories of the past year, you wouldn’t miss it. Looking back, the only bright spot in the tower was Zephry, who had stuck by the whole time to make the best of a horrible situation.

“Goodbye, tower! I will not miss you,” you gave a mock wave and nodded at him, “I’m ready.”

“I’m going to fly us out. Hold onto me and no matter what, don’t let go,” Zephyr ordered.

“Do you get on your back or…?” you shrugged.

“No, you’ll have to let me hold you up front, like this,” Zephyr suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest to wrap his arms around you firmly. All of a sudden you realized you had never been this close to him before. “Now you wrap your arms back around me,” he explained, positioning your arms around his waist at an angle. It reminded you of how the dances worked at balls you had once attended at the palace. An image of Zephyr dressed up like one of the noblemen who would come conjured up in your mind making you grin at the absurdity of the thought.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked, “I know that look-”

“Nothing, just about you in formal wear.” 

“Shut up,” he mumbled with a cold stare, “How do you come up with the most ridiculous ideas, princess?”

You only rolled your eyes at him.

“Are you ready?” Zephyr asked with a more serious note. 

“I’m ready” You nodded eyes full of determination. This was it- the moment when you could choose your own path.

Suddenly, you felt your feet lifted slightly off the floor as a small breeze filled the tower from the beating of Zephyr's wings. Holding on tight, he lifted you through the window and flew you out. 

The sun pierced your vision in a golden glow that hung on the crests of the gray mountains towering in the distance across from the emerald green valleys that spread out below making your eyes sting. Gods, had it been that long since you had been in direct sunlight?

You breathed in the fresh air, taking it in, never forgetting its familiarity. Chirping, wind, and the rustle of leaves filled your ears with a song that you hadn’t heard in so long it felt nostalgic to the steady beat of Zephyr's wings.  You took in your surroundings, noticing the jewel glow as the light filtered through the thick forest of trees that surrounded the tower, the perfectly placed flowers growing below you had never gotten the chance to see, and the streams that snaked below reflecting the burst of blue from a clear summer sky. You reached out, feeling as if you could grasp the wind carrying you both to freedom and hold it in your hand.

“Careful, princess. Keep a tight hold so I don’t drop you,” Zephyr warned, tightening his grip around you.

It was over. The tower was gone. You were free.

“We did it!” you yelled out, “We escaped!” 

“I never had a doubt you could,” Zephyr said looking back at you and reached up one of his hands he had settled on your back to tangle in your hair cupping the back of your neck, “All I ever wanted was your happiness.”

Then you saw something you never thought you would; Zephyr smiled. A bright, big genuine smile as he kept his eyes locked with yours gently keeping you in his hold.

Later, after you had both landed you began walking through the dense woods nearby since it would be the safest route to keep you both out of sight. The sky was slowly getting darker making the beaten-out path you were following harder to follow. The muscles in your legs ached, making every step feel like a fire burning.

“We’ve been walking for hours,” Zephyr huffed, “Haven’t you found shelter yet?”

The dragon hadn’t stopped complaining once you had to cross a muddy stream making his wings heavier.

“According to the map,” you said pointing at a line of trees on the yellowing paper, “There should be a few farming towns past these woods. Maybe there will be a nice farming family who would let us stay with them for the night?”

“No, we need as few witnesses as possible. When your father comes looking for you, he’ll be asking every citizen in Aldaria.” Zephyr stressed, “No asking for help.”

Even if you hated to admit it, he had a point. No citizen would be left unsearched once news of the princess of Aldaria had escaped with a dragon hybrid had reached the King.

“This would be much faster if I flew,” Zephyr drawled, giving you a sideways glance. 

“Like you said, we need to stay out of sight.” you shot back putting the map away, “A golden dragon carrying a princess in the sky would draw a lot of attention.”

Before he could argue, he watched as you ran ahead towards a break in the trees and shouted, “I found a place where we can stay tonight!”

“A barn?” he asked looking ahead, “Princess, are you serious? You can’t possibly consider a barn a good place to stay.”

“What other options do we have? It’s almost dark and nobody would suspect a princess to sleep in a barn.” you argued, “It’s our best option.”

Zephyr reluctantly followed you into the old barn, gagging at the smell of hay and dirt inside.

“It smells,” remarked with a tone of disgust. 

“Better than the palace stables. At least this barn doesn’t have anything in it.” you replied and started climbing up the ladder to the loft as he followed behind.

You tossed your bag down, dumping out the contents onto the floor, already setting up for the night. Zephyr sat down in the far corner of the loft, leaning back on a pile of hay.

“Do you need a blanket?” you held out one in your hand towards him.

“No, I’ll be fine. Dragons don’t exactly get cold.” Zephyr replied with a smirk.

He watched as you set up a place to sleep for the night on the far side of the loft, and something in his chest stirred. It wasn’t a familiar feeling for him to feel such things, especially around one of the royal members he was forced to serve his whole life, but it felt just like when you had mentioned a prince taking you away back at the tower. Jealousy- a longing had filled him that made his heart stir with sensations it had never felt before. Had he seriously thought you would both sleep close to each other tonight? Even worse, why would he have wanted to be so close to a royal he served? It was forbidden for a hybrid servant to be romantically involved with a human, not to mention that you came from the line of the very people who had forced his kind into servitude for hundreds of years. But you weren’t like the other royals he had worked with before at all. Ever since day one, you had not only treated him with respect, but kindness calling him your friend. Sometimes he wondered…

“Isn’t this fun?” your words rang from across the loft interrupting his thoughts.

“I’m in a barn. Sleeping on hay. It smells,” Zephyr grumbled, “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

“I know it’s not the best situation to be in, but at least we have a good view,” you pointed upward to a large hole in the barn’s ceiling.

A multitude of stars shone through scattered across the night sky endlessly. Endless, just like your possibilities now. The vastness was filled with a purple hue and the diamonds stuck forever in their places in the sky, a reminder of the very stars who had fueled the wishes of the people who came before you.

“I suppose the view is nice,” Zephyr admitted in a softer tone gazing upward, and then added, “Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain.”

“Be positive!” you suggested, “I’m sure it won’t rain.”

It did rain. Sometimes even positivity couldn’t stop the weather. You woke to the feel of a few drops of rain falling onto your face, then another, another, and then your clothes were getting soaked. Before you could cover yourself with the blanket the rain just stopped?

Looking up, a large wing covered you, and you found Zephyr sitting right next to you.

“I told you it would rain,” Zephyr said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Zephyr was soaked, letting the rain pour down on him, still stoic as always. The back of his clothes was wet, and his face was drenched as his hair clung to his face.

“You’re all wet. I can’t let you do this,” you muttered with concern, “What if you get cold?”

“I told you dragons don’t get cold,” he repeated looking ahead with the serious look he always had, “It’s my job to protect you.” 

It was no use in arguing when Zephyr had his mind set on something, so you decided to lean into the crook of his wing, finding it surprisingly warm. Looking over, you noticed how he kept staring at you from time to time checking to see if you were dry. The strange thing was, he wasn’t looking with his usual hard gaze, as if this was all part of his job. No, now that he was up close, you could see a tenderness trying to stay hidden beneath the serious look, and a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth when you shifted around his wing. Could Zephyr have started to see you in a different light? Did he even have the emotions to express that?  

“Why did you help me escape?” you finally asked the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind.

“I wanted to see you happy. I already told you that,” he repeated as if it were obvious. Although, the reason was becoming increasingly more obvious to you.

“Why did you want me to be happy?”

“You have a brave soul, princess. The tower wasn’t a place for you,” Zephyr continued, “And it’s my job-”

Cutting him off, you exclaimed, “Enough with the job! Was it because you care, or even see me as at least a friend?” 

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few moments as a tension felt almost tangible.

“I do care…a lot,” Zephyr breathed, breaking the silence, “And that’s the problem.”

Feeling a bit more reassured you place your hand on top of his. He tensed up, slipping his hand out of yours, trying to maintain some sort of his code.

“Princess, we can’t do this. You would face all sorts of trouble,” Zephyr whispered breathlessly, “It’s against the rules.”

“When did I ever care about rules?” You grinned.

Zephyr burst out laughing, breaking the tension of the moment, “Right, you never were fond of rules, were you?”

“See?” you said, “So why should I now? I care about you too.”

“Because it’s still complicated,” Zephyr answered, the seriousness returning in his voice, “And because you deserve better.”

“Better?” you asked incredulously, “How could I get better than my best friend?”

“You need more than me. You deserve a prince…not the beast he slays,” he closed his eyes in frustration,  “You deserve what the heroine gets at the end of all those books you read. What is it called again…happily ever after?”

“Happily ever after? I don’t want a happily ever after if you aren’t in it!” the same determination boiled up inside you that you had hours earlier when you escaped the tower, “I’m done with princes and what’s expected of me. If I want to choose a life full of so many paths, then it’s my choice who walks those paths with me, and I choose you to be my side. I make my own path, and I’ll choose my own destiny, got it?”

“And I make you happy?”

“Yes!” you practically wanted to yell it in his face, “Because you’re the only one who ever cared if I was happy!”

“Then I would be honored to stay by your side for every path you wish to walk,” he extended his hand out to you with a slight bow, an oath handing his servitude over to you instead of the King. 

You took his hand, but instead of keeping it there as you should, you pulled him into a deep kiss. For someone with such a hard exterior, his lips were surprisingly soft. Zephyr pulled you closer with his wing making a world for just the both of you and this kiss tucked away in his wings.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” he asked as a smile played on his lips.

“More than a yes,” you answered, placing your hand back on top of his, “I don’t want you at my side as a servant anymore, I want you there because you choose to be.” He didn’t move his hand away this time. It felt right for once in his life.

“Then I choose you,” Zephyr promised, “I would choose you on any path. Any lifetime. I would choose you a thousand times over and over. In a thousand lives if dying a thousand times meant I got to live a thousand lives by your side. If I had waited with you in that tower forever, I would never have left. I choose you. Every time.”

“And I choose you now,” you vowed, holding his face in your hands. Gods, you wanted to kiss him again, so now that you were making your choices, you did. 

For the rest of the night, you stayed that way, held together by a jumble of arms and wings as the stars watched overhead while you slept side by side.

Dragons, princes, rules; who cares? 

Maybe happily ever after is what you made it. For now, you looked forward to the journeys ahead of you of your own choosing, and nobody else’s, with a very special dragon by your side.

If you want to read more of these types of stories go to Love Bites on my Wattpad account here: Love Bites - Monster x Reader Oneshots - daily_delulu_ - Wattpad

[imjustabeanie]

Matchup Exchange

For @macsimagines

After much more consideration, I finally picked Draken! Nearly picked mitsuya but boy can legit fit everyone lmao. I hesitated with Mikey too for a very short moment.

You met Draken in his shop. You recently came town and decided to check the locals when you saw his bike shop. Despite his aloof and somewhat cold exterior, he’s still a gentleman and gave you some good advices about the neighborhood.  He dealt with people who aren’t that good at reading queues so he doesn’t take anything you say to heart about it. Now you two started to talk to each other once you compared his job to…legos. I mean he’s repairing bikes and putting together bike parts. It’s like legos in my head and you’re welcome to argue you’re case if you think I’m wrong. A friendly feud started, you two can often be found bickering in his shop at the end of the day before you go to your apartment. With time, he even challenged you to fix bikes yourself (once he knows he can fix them and they’re not client bikes). Of course you’re gonna fail at the start but he will guide you and then walk you home. He will insist on walking you home once gang activities pick up again. Yes this is the pre bonten era but he won’t get shot unless his old friend has something to say about this hehe.

Anyways, all of this to say is that Draken is a very good and loyal friend albeit a bit protective and secretive due to his past. He likes how you make him laugh, it always brighten his day. He likes how honest you are and how nice it is to watch anime with you…He often chides you when you procrastinate and learned a new way to help you focus. You finish your task and he buys you a pastry. Draken knows he’s gonne soft and mushy once he finds himself looking at plushies for you…His way of asking you out was wholesome. You see the lego bouquet of flowers? He bought one, build it (you pestered him for ages to finally build a lego set) and put a paper asking you out on it. Then he left it in the shop for you to discover first. That was a very nice and sweet moment that’s hopefully put any trashy romance novel to shame.

Draken is a man healing from his scars. His first love died and his closest friend turned dark and disappeared. This shows in the relationship as he’s very overprotective. He’d like to know where you’re headed to in case he needs to come and help. This will spark some arguments as at first you see it as controlling and overbearing. That’s probably the biggest argument you’ll have as he’ll be frustrated with the situation and will end up telling you what he’s afraid of before picking up his bike for a drive. He comes back with dinner, flowers and a plushy and apologizes. That night, between cuddles he will unravel his past to you. It’s easier to understand that way and he knows you’ll never use it against him.

Now besides this sad moment let’s look at the positive ones shall we? Draken is a sweet guy who wants what’s good for you. He’s also observant to social mood and will help you out if he notices you’re unaware of them at a bad moments. It’s rather cute because he just tugs your pinky and whispers into your ear. Draken also made it his thing to put a calendar just for you in his shop with the important events. He put it near the snacks drawer how clever. He enjoys going on hikes and exploring with you. As long as he’s with you, urbex is possible and safer. Plus with his bike he has access to more places. Draken lock screen is either you two on a date while hiking, at the fair with you holding a big plushy he won or at the bike where you were attempting to fix a bike under his directives. He enjoys your interest in craft and likes teaching you about his own craft, bike repairing and moding. It’s his specialty, he’s not much of an academic guy but in street and craft smart he’s really good. Once your relationship has been here for long enough, you two will eventually move in together. It could be in the apartment in the upper floor of his shop or another apartment you two rent, depends on how safe the environment is. His biggest fear is that you get dragged into his past. He knows how fatal gang life is, his first love died from it and now Draken just wants to live happy and with no regret. After meeting you, he stopped thinking of the what ifs with her and instead focused on giving you all he could. Even an animal as he knows you love them.

Meanwhile on the other side of the town, Mikey was growing very jealous of his old friend. You two met online and he’s had a crush for a while. You gave him an escape from his dark like. His goal was to get his ducks in a row before asking you out. While he was happy for his old friend, he found it unfair how he won you right under his nose. Let’s hope he doesn’t take drastic decisions shall we?

[unopenablebox]

terrible news for you all i've been kind of stressed out lately and as a result im back to reading about horse crime. so here's a quick review of every dick francis book ive read in the last 2 weeks. [edit actually this is only part 1 because i got tired after typing up four reviews.]

the edge - an extraordinarily wealthy man who doesn't use his wealth instead works as a Racecourse Detective solving horse crime. he goes double undercover first as himself, but Wealthily, and then immediately afterward as an actor pretending to be a waiter, in order to sneak onto a canadian horseracing millionaire murder mystery train and catch a blackmailer who takes people's horses. an excellent read that really delivers on its utterly deranged promises. plot not actually that suspenseful but i was having so much fun i didn't care. 5/5

romantic subplot/misogyny subrating: classic dick francis woman type 1, "older woman with strong character", present as a couple of different people but not nearly as centrally or strongly drawn as usual. meanwhile type 2, "romantic interest", is much more believably career-oriented and on-page competent than usual, having possibly absorbed the older women archetypes' life force. flirtation not actually that interesting though. 3.5/5

straight - jockey's brother he barely knew dies and turns out to have been a genius jeweler with an unfathomable collection of whimsical gadgets. jockey inherits all of brother's worldly goods, which apparently include $1.5 million of secret diamonds no one's ever heard about previously and no one knows how to find. plot resolution vaguely disappointing if you think about it too much but very fun in the moment and i love the cast of the Jewelry World 4/5

romantic subplot/misogyny subrating: strong-minded older woman is the love interest here; she's interesting and fun and has a weapon and i really enjoy how much the book completely endorses all the adultery she's doing. also we get an unusual young non-love-interest here in the person of the puzzle-loving jewelry business secretary who the protagonist helps to self-actualize and learn a new career. loved her. 5/5

hot money - jockey son reconciles with estranged father after possible assassination attempt, forcing him to also come into contact with his estranged stepsiblings and his father's several ex-wives. in the course of investigating all of them for murder he becomes much more engaged with and empathetic about their lives, and also almost gets exploded. good fun. i mostly really enjoy a) protagonist's mean bridge champion mother b) the father's instant adoption of his son's love of horses the second the concept of a horse is presented to him 3.5/5

romantic subplot/misogyny subrating: lots of women, lots of them very interesting and with various sympathetic or unsympathetic things going on. i don't think this one had romance in it but if it did it was too boring to be remembered. various things about the ending make me waver on the rating but i'll settle on 4/5

the danger - professional kidnapping consultant realizes recent kidnappings are connected-- by a single thread. a horse thread. this one was kind of weirdly paced but i actually think it's some of the best suspense/action scenes from francis, partly because this guy has better reason than most dick francis protagonists to think it's a good idea for him to do any of the things he does. final plot contrivance leaving to climatic peril only slightly irritating. loses points for unconvincing Cop Shit which is not francis's strength. also for the romance, see below. 2/5

romantic subplot/misogyny subrating: oh my fucking god uhhh sexual harrassment cw??? kind of???? he rescues a woman from two weeks of captivity with kidnappers, has to dress her because the kidnappers tranquilized her and took her clothes, notes that she looks fragile and physically adolescent even though she's an adult and later thinks about how hot she looked while unconscious and naked. then he follows her around a bunch because she's clearly emotionally dependent on him due to his status as a trained professional in kidnapping recovery, explicitly in a role that is a substitute for a psychiatrist, and it is in this capacity that he starts just suddenly kissing her and shit. the rest of his advice to her and the people around her as she recovers is quite empathetic and thoughtful but it's all kind of undermined by the fact that he thinks pursuing her romantically in this context is fine somehow???? aaaaaaaahhhhhh 0/5 fuck this book

ive actually read many more than this but we can call this post part 1 because it's too long

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short. 

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor 

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like. 

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far. 

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste. 

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands. 

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another. 

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons. 

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather. 

Oh, gods. 

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.” 

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.” 

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it. 

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow. 

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair. 

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway. 

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.” 

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.” 

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs. 

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. 

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . . 

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly…personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness. 

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me. 

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly. 

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?” 

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going. 

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?” 

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead. 

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked. 

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.” 

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?” 

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds. 

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath. 

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.   

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart. 

[serpulalacrymans]

//so... I was thinking a lot recently about my blog, and honestly, there's some things I do not like and am aiming to change. Mainly in the way Lawrence is portrayed in his relationships.

//Let it be known that Law is a very selfish man, and if you're willing to give, he's willing to take. This isn't to say he doesn't care about who he's taking from, but most romantic reciprocation is not as it seems. He simply likes the attention and finds it too hard to let go of. (If you want to know what genuine romance looks like, it's intense infatuation and obsession. He will go the extra mile to stay in touch, to talk often, to interact as much as he possibly can for his person of interest, so much so that he feels entitled to their attention, and may even demand it.) Also, putting things to rest after I was cheeky and mentioned it in tags, I hate to "ruin the surprise" or anything, but I feel like it's important? Law, at this point in time, only sees potential in Ren, or in "Lamb." Good ole 🌫 Anon. I can go into detail why if anyone would like, but it's kind of complex and this is getting long as it is. But there ya go. I hope this makes it easier to navigate his interactions nonetheless.

//Next up is reminding everyone that this is an in-character blog. It's Lawrence typing, Lawrence posting. What he writes is not always what he really means or feels. He could be attempting to cater to a friend, to avoid an awkward discussion, or he could be overly mean because he feels like he needs to be- but, just saying, as an Oleander, like any other flower, he too can be a liar.

//Lastly, on the cutting board is Lawrence, and sexual activity. I don't have a problem with asks. I think those are fun! Finding what makes him tick is absolutely delightful- but actual sexual contact was not comfortable with me from the get-go, and I really should have just said something instead of wishing to throw my RP partners a bone. The doll-thread does NOT apply to this, as that is something Lawrence himself actively invited for his own selfish benefit, but for like.. "Canon" incidents where he has laid with other muses? I don't think I'm comfortable with that anymore. That kind of thing is very sacred to him and by bending the rules too much to cater to my partners, I have lost the plot and I'm sorry- but I think I'm excluding those from this point on. We can always discuss and actually plot, but, it's a long shot. Sorry...

//I will do my best to play the best Lawrence I can, but some very minor things need to change for that to happen. I'm sorry if I let anybody down somehow by posting this, but it's how it's gonna be. I will be going back to normal indefinitely after this is posted, so nobody has to worry about that.

//Have a good night everyone !! Thanks sm for reading if u bothered !!

[the-musings-of-a-manga-reader]

Sensitive Boy

TW: Rape/SA, PTSD

Sensitive Boy is a newer series delving into a bit of a taboo subject. The MC was raped in middle school by a female teacher. There is a certain stigma around this subject as some people think it’s not possible for a male to be raped by a female. Tho of course it does happen, it’s just not something that people really talk about or gets portrayed much in media.

As mentioned the MC of this series, Kaede, was raped by a female teacher in middle school before the start of the series. As a result, he has PTSD from the incident, having panic attacks revolving around females in certain situations. Such as when a girl accidentally fell on top of him. On the other hand, we have Tsubasa, a love interest, who is a romantic at heart and dreams of having a relationship like those in the shojo manga she read. Of course, those idealized romances don’t usually play out in real life. 

Kaede's first attempt to tell her about the incident in his past didn’t go well as the Tsubasa mistook it as just groping. But in a recent chapter, she realizes she misunderstood the situation and asks him what really happened, to which he explained everything.

I’m interested to see how Tsubasa handles this because she has such an innocent idealized view of romance. So far it’s not looking good, as she seems to find herself sick by this, focusing on the fact that he’s had sex (even tho it was non-consensual). Tho we also see that she’s having an internal debate about this. She’s disgusted that he’s not “innocent” but at the same time, she keeps reminding herself that it wasn’t his choice. I’m curious to see how this goes, will she be able to continue with this relationship? Or will she end things? 

Spoilers for the most recent chapter, ch. 16. 

This is a hard chapter to read. We see Tsubasa let out everything in front of Kaede. Telling him how she doesn’t know how to handle all this and asking could him if he really could have been raped by a female. Why didn’t he just fight back? Personally, this part made me pissed, he told her everything and then she has the nerve to question him if it really happened. I don’t think she and Kaede are a good match. She is far too innocent and filled with too many ideal fantasies to be with him. He deserves someone better. After she asks him if it was really against his will we see Kaede tell her to stop and says she doesn’t understand since she didn’t experience it. He breaks down apologizing for everything, crying and Tsubasa runs off leaving him alone. 

The sad thing about this situation is that people truly do think that. There is a misconception people have that men can’t be raped by women.  And in my opinion, it doesn’t help that we don’t talk about this topic much. We see plenty of media dealing with a female being raped by a male but almost never the other way around. I think this is why this series is important, it brings up this topic that people don’t want to talk about.

All Kaede wants to do is live a "normal" life. He wants a girlfriend, he wants to be like the guys his age and date, but it's not that easy for him sadly. As much as he wants a gf, his trauma isn't going to make it easy for him.

(Screenshots are from fan scans via Tanzanite Scans)

[0-scorch-the-earth-0]

Ooo you’re rewriting Recalibrate?

Kinda!

Essentially, yes, but it’s not the same recalibrate from before. I’m currently working on making a slightly new title, like “Recalibrated” or “Recalibrate Me”. I want to make the fanfic I originally intended to set out to make. A story of love, grief, and the power of growing with someone by your side.

I have a good description of what exactly I’m doing with recalibrate in a recent update of the fanfic. I’ll just copy paste what’s there and put it here for y’all to see 💕💕

Also, I was rewriting Recalibrate chapter by chapter there for a little while before I got too overwhelmed. It’s rewritten up to chapter 6, with better writing and some added scenes, so I highly suggest checking that out!!!

Also also, I wrote a preface to my notes release (which will make sense after reading what is below). It felt like a very important message, so I’ll copy that too.

The update I posted in Recalibrate:

Hey there, all!

It’s been… QUITE awhile since an update. I hope this email finds you all well <3

I’m unsure how many times I’m going to make this apology. It certainly has been too many times to count. But I’ll give it anyway; I’m sorry for disappearing on this story yet again. It’s both unfair to my unwavering readers and to my characters themselves.

I could make the excuse that life has been crazy. Which in all fairness, it has. I got engaged to the person I wrote about in an update so long ago (we’ve been together for over 5 years now!), we bought our first house, I got a stable job at a library, I’ve become way more invested in my cosplaying, I’ve made tons of friends, and I’m just generally more happy now than I ever was before! Which I guess brings me to my next talking point?

I wrote Recalibrate during a time in my life where there was a lot going wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about what I was going through, but it’s safe to say a lot of it came out in my writing. I was mentally unhappy, my parents controlled every aspect of my life (I was writing and posting Recalibrate in secret, as there was a strict “no technology” rule for me in my household growing up), and the only relationship I was allowed to have (straight!) at the time quickly became toxic and made me feel unworthy to be living. I’m sure some of that bled through into the plot of Recalibrate. That coupled with my immaturity meant there were a lot of things both added and missed in the story that didn’t aid it.

For example, the seamless set-up of Zane coming to terms with his artificialness as being something to respect and accept about himself would have led to some powerful character development, but instead I chose to have an ending where he gets magic-ed into being human. Doesn’t make sense to what Zane’s character needed to learn about himself as I know it to be now. And it was also a clear attempt to give myself an example of someone who successfully does not deal with their internal issues and just waits for enough self-sacrifice to happen before they are free of what ailed them without doing any introspection on their self-loathing :D And then for some reason, I also felt the necessity to add a big bad (Morro) into the story, and I distinctly remember thinking “well all good stories have a big bad, so I have to”, not comprehending that sometimes, a story can just be about two characters having issues and growing together. These are just tiny details of what I’m talking about. That’s not even bringing about that my romance writing was, looking back on it, stunted and skittish. Unrealistic. But I can’t blame my younger self. I never knew what an actual relationship, with real attraction and love and trust, looked like until I started living on my own and met my now-fiancé. Back then, I was just trying to do what everyone else was, not realizing until later that I’m not broken and that I literally was just a gay kid trying to pretend at being straight.

This is all to say that, this morning I woke up with a sore throat and sniffles, 5 days before my 25th birthday, saw some anonymous person had left kudos on Recalibrate, and decided to figure out what had really gone wrong in my motivation and love for this story (after chugging DayQuil of course).

You might not like what I have in mind for this story.

A lot of you loved Morro, and I’ll admit I loved my characterization of him and Archer and Bansha. I liked the lore I created for them and the dynamic the trio quickly settled itself into. But everytime I went to continue the rewrite for Recalibrate, this huge plot that I had devised as a 14 year old child would stare me down and make the task feel virtually impossible. I mean, I didn’t even get half way through my planned story, and that was before I started rewriting and adding even more things.

My plans were ambitious. And they were made without knowing myself, my limits, my desires; they were made without relying on my strengths as a writer. I was trying to do what everyone else did, and I wasn’t aware yet that my best writing has always come from character focused introspection and slowly budding romance, not from action or complicated puzzle-like plots.

So, I’m thinking about getting rid of the Morro stuff. I wrote such an idea in a rewrite note back in 2021. In fact, that was the last thing I wrote, before I likely became too heartbroken or too worried about disappointing you all that I didn’t reopen my notes document until today. But in order to deliver a story that I have promised for over a decade, I think I know what needs to be done.

I have notes, so many notes, on what the story would’ve been. Sometimes, when I’d lost hope that I could ever finish the story, I’d think about posting all those notes here for all of you as a declaration of me ending my long hiatus with one last “sorry”.

But I owe younger me more than that. I owe you all more than that. I owe the fandom that raised me more than that. And I’ll be honest when I say I don’t think younger me would’ve been all too upset about me scrapping the large plot I gave myself. After all, this fic was only originally supposed to be an explanation as to what happened to Dr. Julien, written before I even shipped Glacier.

If you mourn the old Recalibrate and the plot an on-the-whole different person made, I’m deeply sorry. If seeing the notes of all that would’ve occurred in the old plot would ease your grief, please let me know. As it is currently, I’m contemplating making another A03 fic as an archive with the chapters I will be deleting, as well as with the notes that would’ve carried me to the end, had I been built for writing extensive plots. Let me know if that interests you.

From here on out, I want to write the story I intended. I want to write the story that my heart wants to write, instead of the story my brain thinks people want. These characters have been banging on my ribcage for ages, begging to be let out and finally be written to an end. I will try my best to listen to them. I hope you all will still want to journey with me.

Thank you all <3

-Matty

The Preface I posted in Ao3 along with my first revealed notes:

In creating a closure to my original Recalibrate story, I’ve decided my first entry to be on the most vital page of my notes, of which I referenced more than any other page. The “End Goals” page, I called it. This page was written on 1/20/16, which was 17 days after I posted the first chapter on FanFiction.net (A fun factoid, which I am unsure how many of you know: I was posting Recalibrate almost a whole year before moving it over to Archive of Our Own. I didn’t know about Ao3 at the time, mainly because I wasn’t even allowed to be on the internet, and barely had enough time to sneak a post on ffn, let alone research other sites I could share my story to).

The end goals served as a road map for me, the writer. And for you, the reader, I assume they serve as somewhat of a table of contents for the updates ahead. A taste of where the story was going, and where it was to end up. For some of you, this very broad summary that follows below may be all you need to sate your curiosity. It gives no exact details. No play by play. Some of you may appreciate that more. If so, I’m glad to satiate you. But for those of you who wanted to know the specific details, the “who dies”, the “how”, I will be making further updates that include chapter specific notes, overarching plot notes, and even a map I drew (if I can figure out how to attach images to Ao3 chapters, that is).

For those of you who wish to keep the story forever a mystery, I appreciate that just as equally. But I suggest you should stop reading soon, then, because for all intents and purposes, we are now entering spoiler territory. If you can even call it that.

However you wish to consume the following content, I want to thank all of you. The comments, the kudos, the support, the dms on Insta and Tumblr; it has been everything to me. I never forget each person who has reached out to me saying I got them through hard times, sometimes that I saved their life. That my writing is their nostalgia, their safe space. I can never express how deeply impacted I am that my writing had such a profound meaning to many of my readers. And, of course, beyond. I remember, way back in the day, the author of then-not-written Chips and Salsa reaching out to me and saying they were inspired by Recalibrate in some way, shape, or form to begin writing a Glacier Fanfic. Which then became the most prolific fanfic of glaciershipping in probably the history of glaciershipping.

My impact has been greater than any scope I could have possibly imagined. I will never, ever take that for granted. I’m so grateful for the role I have been able to play in your lives. I hope, of course, that you may join me on my next journey. But if not, if this is where we part, I just wanted to remind you how special you are. How much you matter. And how grateful I am for your presence in this world, and the small slice of your life that you offered to me in spending your time to read my story, and to read this.

Remember: Ninja. Never. Quit. <3

[libertyreads]

May 2024 TBR--

Connor Cow and I are excited to talk about the books we're planning on reading in May. (AKA look at my cute stuffed cow because my physical TBR is TINY.) I have three Kindle books and three NetGalley ARCs I plan on reading during the month so the physical TBR for the month is small. I'm so excited for my reading plans for the month. I've already started one of the Kindle books and I am INVESTED.

Teen Titans: Beast Boy Loves Raven by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo-- I'm continuing my reread of the Teen Titans graphic novel series. Up next we see Beast Boy and Raven meet and we see them starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. This isn't my favorite of the series (that one's next month), but I still enjoy the Teen Titans graphic novels so much.

Aesop's Fables by Aesop-- I found this beautiful collection of Aesop's Fables when visiting a small bookstore in San Antonio a few months ago and I decided this would probably be a good choice for May since I am back to school and I need some light reads to help me push through the month. There are more than 200 short fables (less than one page per) that use animals to discuss human problems. Some are as short as two sentences. Some are as long as five or six sentences. I'm hoping to finish this one early on in the month.

Blood Over Bright Haven by M.L. Wang (Kindle)-- Okay. So this is the one I'm already SUPER invested in. I started it at the end of April and I'm 100 pages in. All of the people who said this book made them angry were so right. This was sold to me as a standalone dark academia novel featuring a woman trying to survive the magic school as the first woman admitted to the High Magistry. She has the janitor forced upon her as her assistant as a cruel joke by others in the High Magistry. And we follow them as they try to make it in this magical school. The absolute rage I've felt in the first 100 pages is astounding. I can't wait to dive deeper into it.

Faking It with Number 41 by Piper Rayne (Kindle)-- This is the next book I'm picking up in the Hockey Hotties series. In this one we follow Ford who is the heir to Jacobs Enterprises, but with a career in the NHL, he doesn't want to fall into the family business. His father agrees...with one condition. He fakes a relationship with the family's PR rep. But do things stay pretend? Or does Ford find himself in an even bigger pickle than he was in before? I liked Ford in the other book I read in this series so I'm excited to read his story.

Pacific Rim by Alexander C. Irvine (Kindle)-- Did I really buy a novelization of a movie I watched last month? Am I really about to read it...despite having watched the movie two times now? Yes and Yes. Hey. Hi. Hello. Have you met me? The Resident Hyperfixation Expert is here to continue the hyperfixation. Pacific Rim follows a former Jaeger pilot and an untested trainee as they attempt to push back a giant Kaiju and keep the world from the edge of defeat in their war against the Kaiju.

Icon and Inferno by Marie Lu (NetGalley)-- This is the second book in the series which follows a spy and a pop star as they team together to take down a very bad man. I reread book one recently and remembered how much I love Winter and Sydney. In the first one, we saw Winter brought into the agency and trained up as he joined Sydney on a mission to bring a rich, and bad, man to justice. I was so worried reading book one the first time that this would be a one and done situation with their partnership, but in book two we've got the gang back together and I'm so excited. This time things get a little more personal for Sydney which I think will really up the stakes (and possibly the romance).

The Calculation of You and Me by Serena Kaylor (NetGalley)-- The GoodReads pitch is as follows: "A calculus nerd enlists her surly classmate's help to win back her ex-boyfriend, but when sparks start to fly, she realizes there's no algorithm for falling in love." I'm excited to meet this moody musician and this math nerd and see how they inevitably fall in love. I've read from this author before so I'm excited to dive on in to a new one.

The Stars Too Fondly by Emily Hamilton (NetGalley)-- When I heard Kayla from BooksandLala talk about this one, I had to request it. This is going to be a genre mash-up that could be everything for me: Sci-Fi/Romance. It's pitched as "part space odyssey, part sapphic rom-com." Four twenty-somethings accidentally steal a spaceship and as the ship travels deeper into space, the laws of physics start twisting and old mysteries come crawling back to life. I'm going to try to go into this one without knowing too much, but I was so excited to get an ARC for this one.

I do want to clarify that reading all of these is my goal for the month of May. But I started a class in April and if I need to then I will start pulling things off of my TBR in order to keep up with my coursework. I'm hoping that having a couple of short and easy reads for the month will make it easier to hit my daily page goals.

[dragongirldg]

Hellooo there how are you

anyways if you want you can use this post to infodump on whatever you want

Info dumping huh? Well then.

I have been the biggest fan of this one ship for as long as I remember. Back in high school, I developed an interest in Homestuck. I obsessed over John Egbert specifically.

As I read fanfiction and looked at fanart, no ship sparked. I didn’t really care. I would read and yeah it’s cute and blah blah blah not my OTP.

Then the worst thing could have happened.

I looked at a crack ship and then I was fxcked. The more I thought about it, the more I loved it. Karkat who? Dave who? Dirk who? Sollex and Eridan who? Literally everyone that’s a common ship WHO?

It didn’t stick with me.

Want to know what stuck?

Caliborn.

I had this idea of Calliope getting to John first and then breaking up for one reason or another.

Then Caliborn and John date or live together for other reasons.

Calliope doesn’t really come into the equation anymore or show up in my daydreams.

I don’t why, but I thought it was adorable if John just got bothered by Caliborn at every turn. They’d bother and fight and just it was cute how much they antagonized.

Then I started developing my trans Headcanon and June eventually makes her first appearance without her being June. It’s only recently (late 2022? - 2023) that I heard the name June and went from there.

I would draw and write fanfiction after fanfiction adding and subtracting details.

June stays 8ft tall and Caliborn is slightly shorter by a few feet or inches.

Caliborn gets rid of the half shaved hair look for short curly hair.

I couldn’t stop doodling John all over my school work to the point my science teacher recognized him when I gave her a little quiz. She had a bearded dragon in the classroom and I loved holding them during class :3

(Don’t ask about the things I did in highschool)

I had a ton of ideas and a lot of them were problematic tbh so I’m still curving them out of my head for far better ideas.

No matter what fandom I became a part of John/ June x Caliborn never left me. I didn’t want to really read fics anymore since no one writes my ship.

Does anyone actually do pixies and Crocker and Harley and Egbert family dynamics? Do they ever have them interacting like a big extended family?

If I had the urge, I’d write my AU ideas more. (I’m kinda stuck at the moment, work burns me out to much and too often that I don’t have motivation to get through the one? Shot I have)

I am going to attempt to redraw this political romance fancomic I drew a long time ago to update it with my newest version of John/ June. That means she will be June. If I could find the notebooks I had.

With my inability to write I’m stuck with lackluster chapters and get nothing done. I need some form of energy boost for my creativity. It’s at an all time low at the moment, being used for other fandoms.

Like this Transformers AU that got me in a chokehold.

Optimom AU (I have a whole blog on it if you want to send asks and stuff)

Optimus becomes the mother of Soundwave, Sari, and Bumblebee. The seeker teens think of Optimus as their mother and there are like 9 of them. Not to mention the others that kind of sees Optimus as a mother figure.

Basically Found Family Trope :3

It’s more complicated than that and I have several fanfics and fanart (which is now found in the Blog)

The messy Age thing with Sari, it’s because I plan of having her die at some point (trauma) and I can’t in good conscience do that to a 3-5 year old (it’s by electrocution).

Yeah it’s messed up, but the world of Transformers is equally if not more messed up and morally grey :3

At least Ariel (Black Arachnia) and Sari get to become extensions of Unicron and Primus!

Sentinel redemption and Ultra Magnus retiring to become Optimus’ father.

There’s a lot to the AU I’m not going in to in this post but yeah!!! That’s it!!!

Honestly I could go on, but then the post will never end.