#but im still excited to do pit au too

[sinful-lanterns]

Cabernet defiantly loves giving head, like she is a God at eating pussy and she would definitely love it for us to sit on her face. This thought made me think of a scenario in the Uni Au where Cabernet asked us to sit on her face and after a bit coercement we agreed. She got so excited she rused to lay on her back and held out her hands to help us position ourselves. But when we came down we were doing that thing where girls hover over their partners head so that they wouldn't crush them with their full weight and this pissed Cabernet off.

"What are you doing?"

"Im doing what you asked?"

"No no, if you were doing what I asked you'd be sitting, not doing this hovering shit."

"I just dont want to crush your face and suffocate you-"

"And? Let me suffocate! Im a big girl, I can handle some smothering!"

This arguing went on for a bit and eventually Cabernet grew tired and too horny for our concerns that she just ended up looping her arms around and over our legs and pulled us down causing us to pit our full weight onto her face. Obviously we tried to lift ourselves back up but Cabernet was holding us down with an iron grip and pleasure she was giving us was starting to turn our legs to jelly so we couldn't hold ourselves back up again even if we wanted to. We obviously went into over stimulation so our body was naturally trying to jerk away but Cabernet kept us right were she wanted us with an iron and horny filled grip. The pleasure we were getting made us grab onto the back board of the bed for dear life and grip it even harder at each orgasm. And by the 5 th orgasm, the most powerful one we've had yet, we felt something slpash against our back. We looked back and it was Cabernet's semen that was coating our back. She was still ejaculating too as we looked back watching, seeing rope after rope of cum escaping her tip to hit against our skin. The best thing about this was that she didn't touch herself at all and she came A LOT. Cabernet found so much arousal and pleasure in stuffing her face into our cut and eating us like a man starved that she came without any stimulation to herself.

She just loves our pussy that much.

Hey. What have you done to me? You’ve completely changed my brain structure because Cabernet is my favorite PTN woman 😨

I have…I have no words. Just keep reading.

nsfw under the cut (men and minors dni)

The first time Cabernet asked you to sit on her face, you said no. That was the first time you ever said no to her request, and yet it was one she really wanted to do. Her eyebrows furrowed and she asked again, yet the answer was always the same.

“No Cabernet, I don’t want to hurt you with my weight.”

Poor Cabernet was ticked off that you’d ever think about hurting her with that delicious body of yours. If her body paid the price of having your mouthwatering pussy shoved up against her face, then it was a price worth paying for, as Cabernet was getting more ravenous by the minute. Every time you said no, Cabernet would get hungrier. Until eventually, while you were getting busy in the bedroom, Cabernet yanked your hand up to hover over her lying body, the both of you naked and sweaty from all your previous rounds.

“Sit on my face.” Cabernet asked— no, more like demanded. Her expression impatient and tongue flitting out for your juices.

“Cabernet, I don’t want to crush you—”

“I don’t care.”

Her voice was stern, almost annoyed that you’d hesitate this much before gripping your thighs with each manicured hand, and forcing you down to meet her mouth in a burning, passionate ecstasy.

Since when did Cabernet get so strong? You wondered this, as you gasped and tried desperately to stand for fear that you might be suffocating poor Cabernet. She was a delicate lady after all, so you should hurry and—

Goodness why was she so strong? Why was she gripping you so hard, you could barely move? Through your moans of blissful pleasure, you looked down to see Cabernet’s absolute blissed out expression. She looked delirious, eyes fluttering back in pleasure as she moaned through your folds and licked you up like a Michelin star meal that was worth hundreds.

She has never eaten you out like this before. Nails gripping the soft plush of your thighs, keeping you firmly sat on her face while she parts your walls with her tongue to reach that sweet spot she so desperately craved. The main star of the dish, the core of the apple, the feast that she had been starving for all this time.

The sweet, succulent juice of your orgasm.

Cabernet’s cock was practically swollen with arousal at the thought of it. Mind going numb while she ate you out in a drunken state. With every moan and whimper that left your lips, Cabernet countered with a grunt and growl of her throat. At the first gush of your first orgasm, Cabernet was practically moaning. The taste was so delightfully pleasant, the unique flavor of your body’s natural reaction to her and her alone. It was addicting, it was beautiful.

She craved more. More, more, more.

As you tried to get up, pussy overstimulated and puffy from her tongue, you whined when she suddenly pulled you back down for more.

“Another. Give me another.”

Was she pussydrunk? You couldn’t tell as the rough caresses of Cabernet’s eager tongue pulsed in and out of you with the eagerness of a starved man who had just been given a plate of food. You’re on the brink of teetering over the edge, unsure of how many times Cabernet had made you cum from just her tongue alone…

Four…five? You could almost pass out from bliss when you suddenly felt the hot shots of Cabernet’s cum shooting across your back. As you look back, you see just how erect and red Cabernet’s cock was. Tip all pink while it shot her hot seed all over your body, and making you clench from the sight, as you had no idea Cabernet was this turned on just by the taste of you.

She hadn’t even touched herself once. No strokes, no squeezes, only the pure ecstasy of eating you out was enough to get Cabernet oozing loads…

It’s safe to say that you’re no longer conscious of sitting on Cabernet’s face if she enjoys it this much 💘

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

For your newest make me write. Im in a huge complete supernatural/fantasy like AU mood here recently so my requests are going to be towards that this week. Also both of them are supposed to be 15 emojis apiece so can we pretend they are if they are not? (Kinda sorry about all the zombies…but feel free to sub everything to vampires or another WIP if you want)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(Im so ready for the Maddie/Buck reunion and ensuing shenanigans. I think by the time you get to to this that the new chapter *may* be out that goes over that. But im also enjoying other aspects of the story as well. I very rarely read bathena start fics so their relationship developing is exciting for me to see as well).

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 🩸(Spoilery for those not caught up BUT OMG BUCK WHAT DID YOU DO?!?! I was not ready for that!)

Woohoo 90 total sentences for monster fics!

45 for 🧟 (THANK YOU!!!):

---

 “Just… Be careful.”

Chim thinks he probably should listen to her. But he also knows he likely won’t. 

▪️▪️▪️

If anything, Chim gets worse. And that might be problematic if his feelings were one-sided, but after dinner, it becomes more or less obvious that they are not.

They do dishes together. A chore Chim usually finds tiresome, but now is somehow fun. Christopher and Denny have already begged Maddie, Hen, and Karen to have a sleepover together. Something Chim finds somewhat redundant, seeing as every day forever is a sleepover here. But Chris wants to sleep in Denny’s room. 

“Please,” Karen had insisted when Maddie had asked if they were sure it was okay. “He finally gets to have friends his own age. Chris can have as many sleepovers as he wants.”

So Maddie is off kid duty tonight. 

“Other than movie night,” she asks as they’re finishing up with dishes. “What is there to do around here in the evenings?”

“You got something against movie night?” Chim teases.

“No!” Maddie insists. “Just exploring my options.”

“Well, there are games,” Chim says. But then he has another thought. “Or the roof.”

“The roof?” Maddie asks. 

“Yeah. We’ve got chairs up there. We can steal your brother’s stereo. It’s great for looking at the stars. Now that the light pollution is gone.” 

Chim wonders if this is too weird. Too forward. Too intimate. Too much like a date, if the world was normal enough to afford dates. Actually, scratch that. He knows Hen has set up a date for Karen up there, under the stars. On their wedding anniversary. God, what is he doing?

“That sounds really nice,” Maddie says. “Would you… Would you want to do that with me?”

God, obviously.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

---

45 for 🩸 (Buck's gonna Buck!)

---

“Neither am I,” Eddie says. “Okay?”

Buck nods, still a little weepy. 

“Okay.”

💧💧💧

As tired as he is, Buck can’t really sleep for very long periods. A wound to his front and a wound to his back means nothing is comfortable. Eddie helps set him up on an assortment of pillows to prop him in just the right position, but it’s still a more or less futile effort. He manages to get a little bit of rest when his pain medication sets in, but otherwise, he’s awake and uncomfortable. 

Brought down to reality by his conversation, Buck really gets a chance to think through what he’d nearly done. Not the killing part - which he’d been more focused on before - but the dying part. And the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks about just how right Eddie was. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want their life together to be over just as it finally started.

He really let that compulsive need to fix everything almost get him killed. Maddie was right. He needs to deal with this properly. This pit of dread that lives in his chest that says he is going to lose everything horribly. That says life will never be safe again. He needs to address that head on, and not by trying to be one step ahead of every possible danger. He needs to go back to therapy. He will, he decides. The minute he’s physically up to it.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again, later that night, when everyone is sleeping and Buck is laying awake beside Eddie. He knows he’s probably going to be saying it for a long time. 

Eddie blinks awake. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck repeats. 

“For waking me up?” 

“No, for everything.”

Eddie sighs. “I forgive you. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“But I’m still sorry.” 

“Buck,” Eddie complains. “Don’t do this. This doesn’t help. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m going to go to therapy,” Buck says. 

“That’s a good idea,” Eddie says. “We could both use therapy. Do you think there are vampire therapists?”

“If there’s not, there should be,” Buck replies. “They’d have the corner on the market right now.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says. “And surely some shrink out there got bit?”

[rosenallies]

Have you written bimbo au Nali hearing Rosie sing for the first time already? If not please 🥹🥹🥹🥹

ik this isn’t an angst au im just so sad and depressed so I had to make this kinda sad </3 just a tad tho

——

Rosé found himself almost asleep, hazy in a sort of twilight when the sound of his penthouse’s buzzer startled him awake, his eyes snapping open and his stomach flipping.

Bleary eyed, he made his way down the stairs, pressing the button. “Hello?” He murmured sleepily.

“Ross?” Came a quiet sniffle, undoubtedly Denali’s, “can I come up?”

“Yeah, of course,” Rosé replied, buzzing him in with a pit in his stomach. He and Denali had only been seeing each other for a short while, but he already had such strong feelings for him that the inkling that he might be crying upset Rosé immensely.

Hovering by the door, Rosé waited for Denali to enter, though he heard the shuffling of feet before the door opened so he beat him to it, opening the door to find Denali with tear stained cheeks and red, misty eyes dressed in one of Rosé’s biggest, softest hoodies that he’d let him borrow.

“Baby,” Rosé cooed, opening his arms and letting Denali fall into him, “it’s ok, let it out.”

Rosé ushered them to the couch, holding tight onto him when he climbed into his lap, melting into his embrace. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Denali shook his head. “Just a bad day.”

“Anything in particular?”

Shrugging, Denali avoided his gaze. “I just don’t feel my best today.”

“I understand,” Rosé replied, nodding, “is there anything I can do to help you feel better? Maybe a bath?”

Denali’s cheeks warmed, embarrassment curling in his tummy. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Ask me whatever you want, honey.”

“The other day when you left for work and I stayed here all day I was kind of being a bit nosy-“ he paused, waiting for Rosé’s reaction, the older man only raising his eyebrows, urging him silently to go on. “I didn’t go through your mail or drawers or anything, I just wanted to see the other rooms and I came across your beautiful piano.”

“It was my grandmother’s,” Rosé smiled, “she taught me when I was a kid so she left it to me when she passed.”

“Would you play it for me? Please? I think that would make me feel better.”

Rosé smiled, feeling warm inside that Denali wanted to hear him play. “Of course, come on,” he said, leading Denali by the hand to the room that held the beautiful baby grand piano he’d been gifted so many years ago.

He sat down on the bench, Denali beside him, running a manicured finger over the keys, still in tune even though it had been neglected for a while.

“Is there anything you want me to try and play?”

Denali shrugged. “Anything you want.”

Rosé pondered for a moment, remembering a song he learned for his first boyfriend, the one he was so excited to show but all he did while Rosé played and sang for him was look at his phone.

He gently ran his fingers over the keys, closing his eyes as he began to play, singing softly all the while. The tune of his voice and the piano flowed through the room, quieting Denali’s thoughts with a gentle love song. Denali had heard him sing under his breath in the car or humming around the house, but this was the first time Denali had really heard him sing and it was so beautiful to him. Rosé’s voice was crystal clear and so soft, a perfect vibrato resonating in the longer held notes. He sang sincerely, meaning every word he sang to Denali and Denali only.

“I don’t want it to be over,” Denali whispered when Rosé finished his song, eyes sparkling as the older looked at him, tenderness in his gaze. “I didn’t know you sang. You sounded so beautiful.”

Smiling bashfully, Rosé laced their fingers together on the middle of the piano bench. “Thank you. Did it help you feel better?”

Leaning his head on his shoulder, Denali hummed. “All better. I feel happy now. You make me happy.”

Rosé’s heart thumped. “You make me happy too.”

Denali murmured contently, tucking himself against his lover, arms around his torso, squeezing tight. “I’m so lucky to have you. I know we’ve only been together a short time but-“

“I love you,” Rosé blurted out, interrupting him, an immediate flush on his cheeks when he’d realized what he’d done, only for it to dissipate when Denali nuzzled against him like a tired kitten.

“I love you too.”

[shape]

Im Anschluss an Sternhells Überlegungen schreibt Gadi Taub in einem "Letter from Tel Aviv":

"The horrors of Oct. 7 reminded us that the existential condition of Zionism is not a given and cannot be taken for granted. It is something that we willed and carved out of history against all odds. It is something we must constantly protect and uphold, because it can be lost.

I think the Israeli public, emerging gradually from the initial shock, senses this already, though politics has not yet adjusted. It seems that our politicians have not yet realized that the ground has shifted under their feet and they still think in terms of yesterday, as if this is just another round in a continuing war. It is not. It is going to change Israel in fundamental ways, which we may not yet fully comprehend.

What Hamas has now done has not just buried the two-state solution and killed all hopes for peace in our lifetime, or in our children’s lifetime. It has also tripped the wire that triggers the deepest of Jewish fears, the fears that run so deep that they precede reflection or even verbalization. That is why you hear from most of the left what you would normally hear only from the right: calls to see this all the way through to the complete destruction of Hamas as a functioning organization."

+++

Aus einem Interview aus dem Jahr 2008 mit Ze'ev Sternhell, dem israelischen Historiker des Faschismus, der als Kind das Ghetto Przemyśl überlebte und nach dem Holocaust im Alter von sechzehn Jahren nach Israel migrierte. Als Soldat der IDF kämpfte er u.a. im Sueskrieg und im Sechstagekrieg. 2020 starb er in Jerusalem.

— Do you remember yourself being hunted [by the Germans]?

— »I remember myself being hunted. And I remember myself hiding with mother and my sister for three days in some pit under the ground. It was some sort of cave in which there were also other people and where we hid, while outside, the ghetto was being liquidated. There was a kind of crack there through which I peeked out. And what I saw outside was a hunt. I saw how people who were trying to escape were shot. How people hiding in treetops were shot. Children, too. [...] I was a boy who saw other boys, who were hiding in the treetops, being shot and falling.«

— And your response, your feeling in the pit?

— »I can't say. I was already in a world in which one thing after the next collapsed. A world of surviving. Surviving at any price. But I know that when friends of mine and soldiers of mine were killed next to me in the Sinai Campaign and in the Six-Day War, I thought that they were at least killed like human beings. They were not killed by being hunted in the streets. In this sense, Israel for me is not a political matter. It is something far more basic. Far more elemental. It is a return to humanity. A return to living like human beings, because there, in the ghetto, you lost your human element. Your human identity. You stopped being human altogether. You were not a person. [...]«

— When do you start to think about Israel?

— »Before the war, in Poland, the family was Zionist. [...] Then came the declaration of the state's establishment, in May 1948. Your generation cannot understand the excitement that seized us. It was just four years after the Red Army liberated us, six years after the Nazis liquidated the ghetto. And the transition from that horror, that helplessness, to a Jewish state that wins a war.

As a boy of 13, I was very much afraid that the Arabs would slaughter the Jews. There seemed to be only 60,000 Jews and all around millions of Arabs. And then the fact that the army of the Jews fought and won and the state arose - for me that was something beyond all imagination. The very fact that these Jews who had gone to the ghettos, who were hunted in the streets, who had been killed and butchered, were now rising up and creating a state for themselves. I truly saw it as a miracle. It was a historic event informed by an almost metaphysical dimension. Suddenly there are Jews who are cabinet ministers, Jews who are officers. And a passport, uniforms, a flag. Now the Jews have what the goyim have. Now the Jews are like the goyim. They are not dependent on the goyim. They can look after themselves. The establishment of the state was like the creation of the world for me. It transported me to a kind of rapture.«

— What you are saying is that the excitement at the state's creation was due in part to the fact that what happened there, in the ghetto, was not only a terrible catastrophe: it was also a humiliation.

— »Humiliation is hardly the word. There was something far beyond that in the ghetto. It was the transformation of the Jew into a grain of sand. Into nothing. Into someone whose life is worth absolutely nothing. That was the awful thing in those years. The child who sees his mother and sister being taken from him. The child who sees the Jews being beaten like beasts and led to their annihilation. And suddenly now, in the Land of Israel, the Jews are fighting like people should. Fighting and winning. There they are, in photographs and in cinema newsreels - young and strong, shouldering rifles. Yes, they are human beings like all human beings, and are capable of fighting for their freedom like the Italians in [Edmondo] De Amicis' ›Heart.‹ They are not creatures who can be killed or enslaved or hunted. No longer can they be treated like beasts.«

— You are saying something brutal: that in the previous world, the Holocaust world, the Jews lost their human image, and only with the state's establishment was it restored.

— »It is not even the loss of the human image. Because there never was a human image there. The Jew there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The Jews there were human dust. They were people who were shot in a way that cats and dogs are not shot. I mean they were nonentities, less than animals. For an animal you can feel pity; for Jews no pity was felt. The Jew was subhuman.

And now, just a few years later, the Jew becomes a full and complete being. From a defective being, the Jew becomes a complete being. And he flourishes. He displays the human qualities of courage and self-sacrifice. And for me, in southern France, there was something wondrous about that, something for which I have no definition.«

— Be careful, you sound like a Zionist.

— »I am not only a Zionist, I am a super-Zionist. For me, Zionism was and remains the right of the Jews to control their fate and their future. I consider the right of human beings to be their own masters a natural right. A right of which the Jews were deprived by history and which Zionism restored to them. That is its deep meaning. And as such, it is indeed a tremendous revolution that touches the lives of each of us. I felt that revolution when I immigrated to Israel alone at the age of 16. Only then, when I disembarked at Haifa from the ship Artza, did I stop being an object of others' action and became a subject. Only then did I become a person who is in control of himself and not dependent on others.«

— You are a well-known left-winger, you are a critical historian, and now you are coming out of the closet and turning out to be a Zionist of the old school, a veritable national-Israeli.

— »I am Zionist old left, in both the national sense and the social sense. If you want, I am a national-Israeli. Some of my friends in the world will undoubtedly not take this well, but I never asked them to take me well. A person who went through the Second World War and saw the establishment of the state and immigrated alone before he was even 16, came here for the sole purpose of living in a Jewish nation-state.

There are two dimensions here. One dimension is that I do not believe it is possible to defend our existence here without a nation-state. I am under no illusions. I think that if the Arabs could annihilate us, they would do so happily. If the Palestinians and the Egyptians and all those who signed peace agreements with us could make it happen that we would not be here, they would be delighted. The upshot is that we still face existential danger, and strength is still our insurance policy for survival. And even though I am against the occupation and even though I want the Palestinians to have rights identical to mine, I understand that I need a nation-state framework to defend myself.

But there is another dimension here. I have no religion. I do not have the security of religion or the prop of religion. Therefore, without the nation-state framework, I remain a person detached, lacking. There is a paradox here. Today the religious elements are those who speak in the name of a nationalism I do not accept because it does not respect the other - Palestinian - nationalism. But the truth is that our need, that of the secular Israelis, for the nation-state framework is far greater than that of the religious. If you take Israel from me, I am left with nothing. I am stark naked. That is why Israel is so important to me. And I cannot treat it as a fait accompli, as regular and normal. I treat it as something that must be constantly safeguarded, something we have to ensure will not fall apart in our hands. Because things fall apart easily - that we have already learned. And sometimes fast: from one day to the next.«

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

hiii!!! can i request a hange x reader fic where they are having a being intimate or having a moment and Levi walks in. and is like wtf. but praises hange on their choice of women? ( could you use a mix of they and she for hange please!)

Absolutely!

I just know Levi would be the type to act disgusted, but internally he's actually really happy for Hange that they finally found somebody :')

Quickly

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff, a little smut but they get caught lmao

Summary: Hange is busy doing work when their S/O comes to visit them, so they let them stay for a bit. But, as soon as they get to fooling around, Hange realizes they forgot to lock the door.

Words: 1.9K

"Knock knock."

You push the door to Hange's office open casually, not even waiting for any sort of confirmation from them that you were allowed in—after all, Hange never said 'no' to any of your visits. It was essentially your office too now, since she had given you a spare key to "come over whenever you'd like and for whatever reason you'd like". You understood the implications of what she was saying, but pushed the thought to the back of your mind, accepting the key graciously.

"Ah, hello Y/n." Their voice echoed through the room, their back turned as she fiddled with some equipment and papers on her desk, working vigorously as usual. You shut the door behind you, stretching your arms above your head as you strolled over to your lover.

Your arms wrapped around her waist from behind the second you got close enough, burying your head in their neck—a cheeky way of getting their attention that never once failed.

"Baby, I'm working." She chuckled in mock protest, but based off of how quickly they dropped their tools and looked up from their papers, you doubted she was planning on stopping you.

"I know," You breathe against her neck, slowly and meticulously luring them further and further from her work. "But I missed you~."

"What do you want?" Hange suddenly asked. It wasn't in annoyance, but a genuine question. "Do you want something in particular?"

You sat there silently against her shoulder for a moment, pondering. What did you come here for? Mostly, you were just bored and lonely—stable duty wasn't the most appealing job—but you didn't have anything planned when you came over.

"I dunno..." You mumble. "Just wanted to see you..."

Hange chuckled, freeing herself from your grasp and turning to face you. "That's fine." They say, hooking their arms around your lower back to pull you up, and you wrap your legs around her waist as she starts walking.

After a few seconds, she'd sat down, and you heard the distinct scratching of the chair against the floor as she scooted forward. You were in their lap now, body pressed up against hers so closely that you could feel the rise and fall of their chest with each steady breath. They'd already scooted the chair up as close to their work desk as they could, and even your lower back was pressed semi-uncomfortably against her wooden desk, you didn't mind at all. Your legs were to either side of her, and you faced the back wall blankly.

"We can stay like this for a while." She muttered, her left hand slowly rubbing up and down your back while her right picked up the pen and started to fill out the stack of paperwork on her desk. You chuckled—Hange's inability to pry themselves from their work was evident as always.

You settled down, your breaths leveling to slow, easy pace as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, finding deep solace and tranquility in her embrace. Your eyes shut against her, and you slowly breathed in their scent. It was very distinct—somewhat musky, yet also smelling of ink and fresh paper. The tension evaporated from your muscles as you sunk further into them, the warmth of their body and the gentle rhythm of their heartbeat lulling you to sleep in her arms.

After a certain amount of time—you weren't quite sure how long—something stirred you awake, and a groan involuntarily left your lips as your eyes peeled open.

You were still in the chair, and in Hange's embrace, but the sound of pen on paper had ceased, and you could only assume that they had finished their a while back.

Her face was now pressed into your shoulder, and both of her hands had snaked under your shirt and onto the bare skin of your back. If you didn't know better, you'd assume she was asleep, but you heard a soft chuckle pass your lover's lips, the exhalation brushing warm air against the nape of your neck.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Are my hands too cold?" She spoke gently and quietly, a stark contrast to her usually loud tone. She didn't want to bother you with her usual loudness immediately after you had woken up.

"Now that you mention it, a little." You mumble, closing your eyes in a vain attempt at getting more rest.

"Sorry. Here, I'll move them." They make good on their words, removing their hands from yours and moving them up to your head, pulling it up from her shoulder. She cups your face in her hands, one side in each palm, and pulls you towards her face for a chaste kiss on the lips.

Finally starting to wake up, you move your lips back to hers after a moments hesitation. They return the kiss eagerly, hands moving to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Their lips are warm and soft against yours. Perhaps a little chapped, but you had long gotten used to the feeling.

Teasingly, Hange moves her hands down, letting them slink to your waist, purposefully dragging of the sides of your breasts on the way down. Their tongue left their mouth, dragging up your bottom lip teasingly.

You pull away in shock, wiping the small trail of saliva connecting the two. "H-Hange—!"

They lean their head back, letting out a hearty laugh. "Sorry, I just wanted to see what you would do!"

Despite playing it off as a joke, her hands never left your hips. In fact, their grip only tightened.

"Unless..." She teased, hands slowly riding up, causing your shirt to rise and expose your stomach. "You want to keep going?"

A pink tint rises to your cheeks as your shirt continued to rise up your stomach, Hange's eyes shamelessly staring down at your exposed skin, thoroughly enjoying the view.

"Hange~," You whined, squirming under their grasp and trying in vain to fight off the tingle in the pit of your stomach. "We're on duty, stop being horny!" You laughed, causing Hange to giggle as well.

"What's the harm in it? I've down my work, and so have you... You locked the door on the way in, you nobody'll catch us anyway. I'll be quick about it~..."

You sighed, debating on whether it's really worth it. After all, captain Levi would surely chew you out for it if he caught you and Hange getting frisky. But the door was locked, so you decided it would be alright. Just this once.

"Fine..." You sigh, "Just be quick about it."

Hange's eyes lit up with excitement at your permission, immediately pulling your shirt up, not taking it off completely, but pulling it up enough to expose your breasts, still hidden by your bra.

Hange's lips went to your chest almost instantly, peppering the area with brief kisses. Her hand slunk lower, cupping your crotch in her hand, causing you to hiss in a breath of air.

Her lips detach from your chest with a pop, smirking at you before moving up to gaze at your face—flushed and slight sweating from arousal.

She swooped in to kiss you, lips connecting with yours and moving against each other passionately. Slowly, but deliberately, her hand moved up and down, grinding against your clit through your clothing, making you squirm with impatience.

You whimpered quietly, the sound being muffled by Hange's mouth against yours. The two of you separated for a very brief moment, breathing heavily as saliva connected your lips, before you dove right back in, kissing more fervently than before.

Finally, you two pulled away, catching your breaths amongst the grips of passion. Panting, you put your forehead to theirs, smiling against her.

"I love you Hange." You exhaled, your warm breath teasing Hange's wet and parted lips.

"I love you too." She panted, emphasizing her point by grinding her hand against you a bit more forcefully this time, the pleasure causing you to moan quietly, spurring Hange on. "So hurry up and take your pants off."

You obey immediately, almost as if your body was moving on its own, unzipping your pants, preparing to slide out of them until a subtle noise behind you caught your attention. You turned your head in confusion, and your eyes widened at the sight of captain Levi, clearly unamused, in the doorway.

"L-Levi... Hi!" You sputter, fumbling desperately with the zipper of your pants in a desperate attempt to play off the situation. But it was too late, the damage had already been done.

Levi stared for a moment, his usual dead, unamused face ever so prominent. Finally, after a silence that felt like eternity, he sighed, stepping towards the desk.

He plopped down a stack on papers on Hange's desk, causing a few loose papers to blow from her desktop and onto the floor.

"You're on duty, Hange. You too, Y/n." He deadpans. "Now is not the time nor the place to be doing... this."

You look to the side out of embarrassment, pulling your shirt back down as you refused to meet his eye.

"Hange, Erwin needs these filled out by next week. Stop fooling around with Y/n and get it done."

"I-I apologize Levi, I'll get it done as soon as possible." Hange cleared her throat, trying her best not to sound affected, but her wavering voice betrayed her, clearly slightly embarrassed.

He scoffed as he turned his back, walking out as if this were a normal occurrence. "Yeah, yeah. I don't really care anyway, just make sure this gets done. And don't make a mess, either." He says, eyeing the clear disarray of the room.

He turns to leave, but stops in the frame of the door, turning to give Hange a side-eyed glance. "But, you know, for everyone in the Survey Corps, you chose a pretty good woman." He states, shutting the door immediately after his statement, preferring not to witness the calamity.

Hange breaks out into a fit of giggles while your entire face heats up into a red blush of embarrassment.

"Of all that," Hange sputters in between giggles. "Of all that, he chooses to focus on 'my choice of women'?!"

Meanwhile, you bury your face in your hands, wishing you could just sink into the floor and never be seen again. "I thought I locked the door..."

"I guess not, darling." They tease, planting a purposefully short kiss to the edge of your jawline. This time, you're more firm in your stance, taking a hand and putting it on her forehead, gently pushing them away from your neck.

"Nuh-uh! Not this time, Levi said you have work to do." You manage to regain your confidence enough to push Hange away.

"Ughhhh, fine." They groan dramatically, gently pushing you off their lap as they scoot their chair to their desk.

"You act as if it's your life support. You can go an hour without sex, Hange."

"Impossible." Hange retorts back immediately, a joking tone to her voice.

"Right," You sigh, stretching your arms above your head, "Anyway, I'm gonna take a nap on the couch." You plop down on the cushiony fabric, making yourself comfortable before pulling a blanket up to your shoulders.

"Okay," Hange's voice echoes from across the room. "Just don't be upset if I wake you up later."

You scoff quietly at the remark, rolling onto your side and closing your tired eyes. "You dork. I'm going to sleep. Love you."

"Love you, too." They reply immediately, ignoring the papers on her desk, staring at you instead.

You'd already fallen asleep—your exhaustion from the day catching up to you—and Hange took the moment to admire your beauty as you slept peacefully.

"I'll be waiting right here when you wake up, okay?"

This also isn't proofread, I have an appointment early tomorrow morning and I don't wanna fall asleep halfway through :'D

Hope you enjoyed anyway!

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

���Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[hrina]

1923, Pt. II - The Week

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 8.4k REQUESTED: perhaps? idek anymore

hey yall, here’s PART 2 of the historical/groundskeeper!AU :) i really hope u guys like it, i spent the past two weeks trying to make it the best that i could. anywayyyy im sure everyone knows the drill by now: support content creators by reblogging their work and/or offering feedback! happy reading 💚💚💚

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

PART I: The Day

~*~

    July 7th, 1923

It’s hot.

You set your glass of water back onto the little table to your left. Excess condensation coats your fingertips; you wipe them against your forehead, hoping that it will be enough to cool you down. No such luck—the droplets provide a momentarily chill before sinking into your skin, leaving you feeling just as scorched as before.

You recline against the cushy yellow lounger, closing your eyes and tilting your face up to the sky. The sun beats down against your cheeks. The thin, cottony material of your dress is pasted to your thighs; you flex your legs slightly, hoping that the fabric will unstick.

In the distance, Apollo and Artemis—no longer confined to their pens—roam around the small, girded pasture adjacent to the stables. The fountain in the middle of the back lawn is about one hundred feet away. Skinny streams of water shoot out from the stone hands of a carved angel, spilling picturesquely into the upwelling below.

You crack one eye open slowly, letting your focus drift over to where Harry is crouched on the cobbled staircase of the porch. Sweat glistens on the nape of his neck as he furiously scrubs the steps clean.

Your thoughts retreat to the night before, when he’d kissed the back of your hand whilst standing in that very same spot. As though triggered by the memory, your knuckles begin to tingle.

Harry sits back on his haunches and drags his forearm across his face, wiping away the excess perspiration on his skin. His white shirt is soaked through with moisture. When he lifts his attention from the ground, your gazes lock for a brief moment. Immediately, your open eye snaps shut.

And you can’t be entirely sure, but you think that he may have smiled.

You lay in silence for another five minutes or so, indulging in the occasional sip of water as the heat of the summer envelopes your body. You only sit up when someone clears their throat from behind you, pulling you from your tranquil daze.

“Good afternoon,” Martin says. He’s standing a bit too close for comfort, casting a looming shadow over your torso.

“Hello,” you reply. You try to mask the disappointment that threatens to seep into your tone. A small part of you—a tiny, microscopic part—had been hoping that he was someone else.

“Thought you could use something to drink,” he says, plopping onto the recliner to your right. Your attention falls lower—two glasses are nestled comfortably in his hands. The caramel-coloured liquid inside each cup glints alluringly, sloshing over a trio of ice cubes that have already begun to melt.

“Is that…scotch?” you say, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“Yes,” he says. He extends an arm, offering you one of the glasses. “Fancy a taste?”

“I’ve had it before,” you say smoothly, shaking your head. “Truthfully, it’s not my favourite. Besides—” You gesture to the little table on your left. There’s still a bit of water residing in your cup. “—I already have a drink.”

Martin’s face falls.

“Thank you, though,” you add, not wanting to sound rude. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

That seems to bolster him a bit, you think, because his shoulders straighten as he shoots you a satisfied smile.

You clear your throat, gazing pointedly up at the sky. “Where’s Andrew?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Martin taps one foot against the floor. He’s wearing a pair of shiny black loafers—they’re new, you guess, and extremely expensive. “He’s in the middle of a call. Private business pertaining to Markham Motors, I believe. It doesn’t concern me—not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” you echo.

He chuckles, nodding proudly. “Your brother is remarkably ambitious. Once our two companies merge, I reckon that we’ll be unstoppable.”

“How exciting,” you murmur, reaching over for your water. You raise the cup to your mouth, expelling a soft sigh. “You must be thrilled, I’d imagine.”

“All in a day’s work,” he grunts, setting one glass of scotch down onto the ground. He lifts the other to his lips, taking a delicate sip.

You sit there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Martin’s eyes roam the wide expanse of your backyard, jumping from the stables to the fountain and back again. He pauses, then, humming pensively when he spots Harry polishing the stairs less than fifteen feet away.

“It’s a bit…unconventional to be dining with the help, is it not?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow nonchalantly.

You stiffen and glance over your shoulder—Harry is on all fours, scowling as he scrubs a particularly stubborn stain from the bottom step. His chestnut hair tumbles onto his forehead, twisted into pretty ringlets. A spark of heat blazes up your spine.

You turn your attention back to Martin, only to find that he’s also watching the other man work. It’s different, however—his look is judgmental, austere. His thin upper lip curls in disdain and his eyebrows cinch together, radiating condescension.  

“We are…” You choose your words carefully. “…a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” he acquiesces, tilting his head to the side. “But does it not distress you, somewhat? Inviting them into your home, making yourself and your possessions vulnerable?”

Something gross festers in the pit of your stomach. You bite back the sound of disgust that threatens to spill from your mouth.

“No,” you state curtly. “Not at all.”

Silence falls over the two of you, thick and poignant and tremendously uncomfortable. After a long, tense moment, you sit up, dusting off the skirt of your dress and releasing a faint groan. “I think I’ll be heading in, now.”

“As will I,” Martin replies, jumping to pursue you.

You stand, clutching your glass of water in one hand. He quickly reaches out with extended fingers, trying to take it from you. Though chivalrous, the action is weak, and you both know it.

“Here, let me—”

“No, it’s quite alright—,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I insist—”

“Mister Russell, really, it’s fine—”

The cup, slick with condensation, slips from your grasp and shatters loudly against the floor. You gasp when a jagged shard slices against your ankle. Pain flares up your shin; abruptly, you fall back onto the lounger. You angle your leg to the side, surveying the damage with wide eyes. The cut is about an inch long; blood drips from the injury, seeping down toward the sole of your bare foot. Bile gathers on your tongue.

“Good God!” Martin exclaims unhelpfully. “You’re bleeding!”

“I can see that,” you snap, bending down and pressing your fingertips against the laceration.

Heavy footsteps approach. When you cast a glance over your shoulder, you find Harry stalking toward you, his eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment.

“What happened?” he asks, but when you hold up one hand, he freezes in his tracks.

“Be careful!” you warn, your voice strained. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“What happened?” he repeats. His gaze lands on Martin, and his nostrils flare unnervingly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” the other man protests, retreating a few steps away. “It just fell!”

“Go back inside,” Harry commands. “Check all the lavatories—there may be spare bandages in one of the cupboards.”

Martin frowns—you get the feeling that he’s not exactly used to being ordered around. “Now, you listen here—”

“Mister Russell!” you interrupt shrilly, fixing him with a stern glare. “Do as he says. Please.”

Martin closes his mouth and purses his lips, nodding tersely. He nearly trips over himself as he stumbles back into the house.

“He’s useless,” you mutter, bloody fingers slipping against your skin.

Harry doesn’t reply; instead, he situates himself on the opposite edge of the recliner, beckoning you closer with a quick flick of his hand.

“Face this way,” he instructs. “There’s no glass on this side.”

You obey him wordlessly. He gets you settled back into the chair, guiding your right leg over his thigh so that your foot lays comfortably in his lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, he grasps the white fabric covering the jut of his shoulder and gives a mighty tug. The sleeve rips cleanly at the seam. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“We’ll use this,” Harry says, pulling the material down to his wrist. “Just until he returns with proper bindings.”

“Alright,” you whisper. It takes every ounce of willpower in your body to avoid staring at his naked arm—golden, sweat-slicked skin stretched over smooth, corded muscle. A frighteningly large part of you wants to lean forward and sink your teeth into his bicep. You swiftly curb the urge, swallowing heavily and trying to focus your attention on something—anything­­—else.

“How did this happen?” Harry asks.

He balls the fabric up and dabs cautiously at the blood dripping from your wound.

“He was—well, I don’t even know, really,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “He was trying to be gallant, I suppose.”

“‘Gallant’?” he parrots, gazing down at your leg. “He fancies you, then?”

“Yes.” You pause, rethinking your answer. “No.” You sigh. “Perhaps; I’m not sure.”

He smirks. Despite the pain pulsating up your leg, you wiggle your toes and nudge him with your knee.

“What’s so amusing?” you ask, puzzled.

He simply chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s just that…you’re a bit oblivious, that’s all.”

And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, you balk and say, “I beg your pardon?”

Harry laughs. Gingerly, he wraps his torn sleeve around your ankle, applying a gentle pressure to your skin. You wince, curling your fingers into fists. His hands—though rough and calloused—are surprisingly tender with their movements. He’s slow and practiced, treating you as though you’re made of porcelain. Your heartbeat quickens; you hope that he can’t hear the way it thunders beneath your ribs.

“You’re rather clueless when it comes to gauging a man’s affections for you,” he explains. He makes it sound as though it’s a phenomenon of which you should already be aware.

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips.

“Tread carefully,” you tell him, though you can’t hide the sardonic undertone in your voice. “You’re wading through dangerous waters, here.”

“What I mean to say is—” Harry clears his throat, shrugging coolly. “—since yesterday’s arrival, that fool’s chattering hasn’t ceased. Building oneself up with words…that’s the sign of a boy aiming to impress a girl.”

“You don’t sound too keen on that method,” you note.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Excellent observation. I am not.”

“And why is that?” you ask, cocking one eyebrow challengingly. “How exactly would you attempt to make your affections known?”

Harry places one of his palms on the skin just below your knee. You jump at the contact, shocked by his brazen move. Having his hands on your ankle is one thing—but your knee? It’s risky, bold, nearly scandalous…and with the way he’s looking at you, it’s clear that he knows it, too.

“Building oneself up with words is a boy’s game,” he tells you. “But building oneself up with actions…that’s the sign of a man aiming to impress a woman. It may be a bit unconventional, but—” He pins you with a deliberate stare. “I work for a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You say nothing. Harry’s green eyes pierce your face, peeling you open layer by layer. You’ve stopped breathing, your chest completely still. Goosebumps erupt across your arms. Instinctively, your concentration falls to his lips: twin pink petals, sinful and alluring and so incredibly—

“I’ve got the bandages!”

And just like that, the spell is broken. You drag your gaze away from the man in front of you, turning to the side and watching as Martin jogs back over with a thick spool of gauze clutched tightly to his chest.

“Here,” he pants. He passes the roll to Harry, who clears his throat loudly and begins to unwind the bindings with swift, proficient fingers.

Martin then fixes his attention on you, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

“Are you alright?” he asks, shooting you an expectant look.

“Fine,” you croak out, though the blood roaring in your ears sincerely begs to differ.

You blink yourself out of your stupor, running your tongue over the roof of your mouth and exhaling shakily. Harry has turned back to your ankle, replacing the makeshift bandages with proper ones. You glance up at Martin and nod your head, praying that he can’t see the flustered agitation brewing in your eyes.

“Yes, Mister Russell, I’m fine. Thank you.”

      July 9th, 1923

The library is your favourite room in the house.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and is accompanied only by the rarest of disturbances. Lydia’s never really enjoyed reading—she can’t sit still long enough to do so. Andrew hasn’t stepped past the threshold in years—he’s been too busy running Markham Motors. So, that just leaves you, along with the freedom to choose from the hundreds of books lining the shelves. You’ve dabbled in fiction and non-fiction alike, soaking up the words from the page just as the ground soaks up rain from a storm.

The library has become your safe haven. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You trod over to your favourite spot to read: a small alcove in the wall, decked out with fluffy cushions and tucked right up against a wide window. It gives you a perfect view of the driveway and the front lawn down below. You’ve spent hours in this little nook, absorbed in novels and poems and biographies. You’ve passed entire nights curled up next to the windowpane, having dozed off in the middle of a story. It’s become a tradition of sorts, despite the dull ache in your neck that always ensues when you stir the next morning.

The book in your hands is heavy as you sink into the mess of pillows. Bright, natural light streams in from the window to your left. You release a soft sigh as your fingers flip to where you’d last left off during your previous visit.

She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me—

You scoff and roll your eyes. You’ve read this story a dozen times; you already know how it ends.

For the next twenty minutes, nothing matters save for the adventures of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You allow yourself to get lost in the world of Pride and Prejudice, eyes hungrily raking over every printed detail. You’re only pulled out of your reverie when a shrill, jubilant cry pierces through the silence.

Instinctively, your head snaps toward the direction of the noise. Through the spotless windowpane, you spy Harry and Lydia standing on the lawn. Harry is holding a brown hose, angling it downward and watering the grass beneath his feet. Your sister is next to him, babbling and gesturing animatedly with her hands. You smile at the sight.

You slip your thumb between the pages of the book to mark your place. The novel is forgotten as you study the scene playing out below.

Harry is wearing an ashen blue button-up and a pair of black trousers. A thin white undershirt peeks out from beneath his collar. He smirks at something that Lydia says, ducking his head and trying to conceal the fond expression on his face. She throws her hands up in the air and twirls around—when she staggers slightly, Harry holds out his arm. Her fingers dig into his elbow to regain balance, and the two of them dissolve into giggles. Warmth unfurls in your chest.

Harry tilts his head back, surveying the cloudless sky with squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. His attention turns to the house, then, sweeping absentmindedly over the fair bricks and stone accents.

Suddenly, his gaze darts forward. You freeze when his green irises lock squarely on you.

Hot humiliation creeps up your neck, because of course. Staring at him and remaining undetected is a luxury that few can afford.

Your lips part with a soft gasp, and your shoulders stiffen. The corners of Harry’s mouth curl up slightly—so faint, you think it may just be a figment of your imagination. The gilded copy of Pride and Prejudice rests in your lap, abandoned. It mocks you and your preoccupation—your fascination—with the man on the ground.

Harry shoots you a small, mysterious smile, and lifts his chin. You sit up straight, processing his request.

“I shouldn’t—,” you start to say before remembering that he can’t actually hear you. You clench your jaw and shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to register the movement through the glass.

But his teasing expression only deepens as he beckons you again. A ragged exhale falls from your lips, and a tepid swell of adrenaline floods your veins. You snap your book shut, tucking it against your chest and pushing yourself away from the window. You swear that your heart skips a beat when your feet hit the floor.

Don’t rush, don’t rush, don’t rush.

It’s hard to maintain a measured pace, especially when such a big part of you just wants to take off and sprint down the spiral staircase. You force yourself to dawdle, to smooth your fingers over the bannister and descend slowly. Your palms are clammy as you make your way across the foyer, eyes glued to the large double doors on the opposite wall.

And then you’re outside, the sun beating down against your face and the breeze blowing gently through your hair. You saunter toward the edge of the large portico, leaning against the stone railing with your novel still clutched tightly to your sternum.

“Dee!”

Lydia whips around, taken aback by the call of her name. Upon recognising you, her features morph into a mask of quizzical mockery.

“Where have you been?” she asks, jogging over.

“I was reading,” you say, shrugging indifferently. After a short moment, you add, “Beth’s looking for you.”

“Me? What for?”

In the periphery of your vision, you spy Harry approaching. Water leaks from the nozzle of the hose; he gathers a few droplets onto his knuckles before smearing them across his sweaty forehead. You bite your tongue to suppress a snort.

“Dinner, I believe,” you lie, turning back to your sister. “It’s your turn to choose, is it not?”

Lydia’s eyes light up. “You’re right! It’s Monday, isn’t it?”

Her feet smack loudly against the cobbled steps as she races toward the door. Before disappearing inside, however, she skids to a stop, spinning around and raising one arm high above her head. “Goodbye, Harry!”

Harry smiles, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “Goodbye, little bug.”

A moment later, she’s gone.

And a moment after that, you find yourself sincerely regretting your decision to send her away. Harry observes you with raised brows and a knowing smirk on his face. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. A long beat of silence ensues.

“Hello,” he finally says.

You exhale quietly, relieved. “Hello.”

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agree.

You lean against the stone bannister, peering down at him. The breeze picks up, gusting through your thin skirt and blouse. A small part of you notes the theatrical romanticism of it all: his being on the ground, the butterflies flapping around in your stomach—

“Do you always spend the majority of a nice day locked away in the library?” Harry asks. His pretty irises twinkle alluringly when your gazes meet.

“I—no,” you stammer. “I was just…reading.”

“As one does in a room full of books, I’d expect.”

Embarrassment blooms in your chest.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Precisely.”

He grins.

“How is your ankle?” he asks, motioning toward the bottom of your leg.

“Oh.” You look down, flexing your foot. “It’s healing. I should be fully rehabilitated in a few days.”

Harry chuckles, nodding. You purse your lips and try for a smile, but you’re afraid that it resembles more of a grimace.

“What’ve you got, there?” He lifts his chin, gesturing to the novel tucked between your forearm and your chest. You’re grasping it so tightly that you’re surprised the skin of your knuckles hasn’t split.

You clear your throat, revealing the embroidered inscription on the front cover. “Er—Pride and Prejudice. It’s my favourite.”

Harry hums. “Mine, too.”

And though it is extremely impolite, you can’t stop the look of shock that makes its way onto your face.

“You’ve read it?”

He chuckles sheepishly, dropping his chin. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” he suddenly says, lifting his eyes from the ground and fixing his unwavering gaze on you, “and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you—”

“—from this day on,” you finish, breathless.

He smiles. Zaps of electricity surge down your spine. The two of you are silent, tripping over unspoken murmurs of indulgence. You scrape your tongue over your teeth, clueless.

Harry is the first one to break.

“I should get back to work,” he announces gently. He gestures to the hose hanging limply from his hand and gives a perfunctory shrug.

“Of course.” You nod, inhaling deeply. “I should get back to…”

He smirks when you trail off. “Reading?” he supplies.

“Yes,” you blurt. “Yes. Exactly.” You hesitate, drumming your fingers against the auburn cover of your book. “Good day, Harry.”

“Good day, miss!” he calls as you begin to walk away. You pause and cast a glance over your shoulder, an admonishment dancing on the tip of your tongue.

For the hundredth time, Harry, you mustn’t feel obligated to address me in such a formal—

But then you register the mischief on his face, and the realisation sinks in.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” you ask.

Crinkles dig into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” he says, tilting his head to the side in faux-confusion. You wipe a clammy palm against the waistband of your skirt and bite back a small smile. Harry’s playful expression deepens, poking a cavernous dimple into his left cheek.

“Have a little compassion on my nerves,” you say, pulling another quote from the novel clasped against your body. “You tear them to pieces.”

His lips twitch, impressed and amused.

“What a shame,” he counters, snickering quietly, “for I dearly love to laugh.”

         July 13th, 1923

The past hour of your life has been spent rolling around in bed and resenting your glaring inability to fall asleep. You’re not really sure why you’re still awake after midnight, but you’ve long since given up on trying to solve the mystery that is your body’s biological clock. Smooth satin sheets tickle your bare legs. You groan into your pillow and push yourself up from the mattress, tossing your feet over the edge and shivering softly when they land on the cold hardwood floor.

You wrap yourself up in a thin silk robe; the hem falls only an inch or two above your knees. The rest of the house is silent as you quietly exit your room and pad across the hall. You tiptoe down the spiral staircase; a brief moment later (during which you slip on some comfortable footwear), you’re stepping out into the backyard, greeted by gentle zephyrs and temperate summer air.

As you hop down the porch steps and begin the familiar trek toward the stables, you note the blanket of stars dotting the clear night sky. They twinkle happily, winking at you as though they know something that you don’t.

You shake your head at the thought. They’re stars. Big, flaming balls of gas floating in space, stationed millions of miles away. They know nothing.

Your ears perk up as you approach your destination, struck by the low stream of words carried by the breeze.

“…lilies, and dahlias, too. They tend to bloom during the summer…”

You freeze, feet stalling in the dirt. Leaning in closer, you catch deep murmurs of a faceless voice. The stranger continues to list off different types of flowers; when a soft chuckle laces through the air, your eyes widen in disbelief.

Is that…?

Sure enough, when you creep into the stables, you find Harry standing in front of Artemis’ pen, running his fingers through her shiny mane. His back is to you, shoulder blades flexing beneath the dark button-up adorning his torso. The sleeves reach his biceps, stretching slightly whenever he lifts his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying as you inch closer, hopelessly engrossed in the pseudo-conversation. “Sugar cubes are a bit of a rarity in my home. I haven’t any others.”

A twig snaps beneath your foot. You wince.

Harry whips around, startled. Upon recognising you, he blows out a heavy breath. Tension leaks from his body, and twin pink spots form on his cheeks. You stare at the blush colouring his face, mesmerized—you’ve never seen him look so dumbfounded.

“Er—,” you say. You raise your hand in an awkward, half-hearted wave. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he replies.

A beat of silence ensues.

“What are you…?” you trail off, trying to keep your voice level. “Were you just—?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. A sheepish chuckle tumbles off his tongue. “I....I understand it, now. Talking to one’s horse is rather soothing.”

“She’s not yours, though.” Your response is blunt, unfeeling.

Harry’s nostrils flare, and his feet scuff against the ground. Now that he’s facing you, you’re able to get a better look at him. A white undershirt peeks out from beneath his button-up, leaving his collarbones exposed. A gold chain glints around his neck, illuminated under the dim light. He’s wearing brown trousers and those same black boots, but you think that he may have polished them, finally, because they’re considerably tidier than before.

“She’s not,” Harry agrees, swallowing nervously. “My sincerest apologies. I can see that I’ve crossed a line—”

You can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles up in your throat. Harry hesitates, fixing you with a bewildered expression. At last, you shoot him a small smile, shaking your head and waving away his regrets.

“I’m only teasing,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Breathe, Harry.”

He exhales raggedly, ruffling the curls at the back of his head. “Jesus. You frightened me.”

“Good. Perhaps you’ve finally learned your lesson, then.”

“My lesson?” he echoes, cocking his head to the side. “And what exactly would that be?”

“To avoid sneaking up on others at night,” you say. “Especially if they’re in the midst of conversing with their horse. It’s a very private exchange, you know—endless confessions have been made under this roof.”

Harry laughs.

“I think I’ve supplied my fair share of confessions, tonight,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I can leave you to do the same.”

“No,” you blurt out. “Wait.”

He pauses, shocked by your immediate refutation. You purse your lips as hot shame unfurls in your chest.

“I just meant,” you start, hastening to make amends, “you can stay, if you’d like. Besides—” You shrug. “It’s far more pleasant talking to someone who can actually talk back.”

~*~

“Harry. No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And I’ll be right next to you. I won’t leave your side.”

You gnaw apprehensively on your bottom lip as he frees Artemis from her pen. She trots out and whinnies softly, tossing her head to the side. He shushes her, dragging a comforting palm over her back. You step closer, mirroring his movements and glaring at him with terse, squinted eyes.

“We’ll go slowly,” he says, fixing you with an earnest look. “A few steps at a time. That doesn’t sound too daunting, does it?”

After a long, overwrought moment, you surrender.

“Very well,” you say. You point at him accusatorily, extending your arm over Artemis’ body. “But as soon as I want to stop, we stop. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Harry leans forward, bumping the pad of your finger with the tip of his nose. The contact makes you gasp. He pauses as well, having realised the implications of the thoughtless action. You swallow heavily; he clears his throat and averts his gaze.

“I’ll get the saddle,” he says.

His heel scrapes loudly against the dry dirt when he turns; you watch as he marches toward the pair of brown saddles hanging on the wooden wall. With a mighty groan, he heaves one from its rusted, metal hook, gathering the leather in his arms before making his way back over to you.

“Thank you,” you murmur shyly.

“You’re very welcome.”

You migrate to the side, petting Artemis’ mane as Harry slips the saddle onto her back. She huffs; you coo at her, holding her face in your hands to keep her calm. Harry spends the next several seconds strapping everything in place. After he’s finished, he gives a gentle tug, ensuring that you won’t slide and fall to the ground once you’re ready to mount.

“All set,” he says, squaring his shoulders.

You glance over at him with wide, frightened eyes. When he meets your gaze, his stoic expression melts into a pool of concern.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, stepping closer to you.

“I—” Your throat burns. “I haven’t ridden in three years, Harry.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. He offers you his left hand. “Do you trust me?”

Your response is immediate. “I do.”

“Good.” The corners of his lips curl upward. His tone is unreservedly honest when he speaks again. “I won’t let anything happen to you, miss; I swear it.”

You slide your palm against his. A sharp tingle races up your arm, sending your heartbeat into a frenzy. You fight to keep your breathing even as Harry pulls you closer, positioning you in front of him and placing his fingers on your waist.

“Ready?” he murmurs. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

You nod.

He grunts as he lifts you. You kick out one leg, slinging it over Artemis’ back and pulling yourself up. Once you’ve settled into a comfortable position, you peer down at him, shoulders taut and ankles locked.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you. He leads by example, inhaling deeply; you imitate him, trying to ignore the thin sheen of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

“What do I do, now?” you ask after a thin stretch of silence.

He chuckles good-naturedly, cocking one eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten?”

“No,” you say indignantly, frowning. “I just—”

You break off when he takes your hands and guides them forward. Your fingers wrap around the reins dangling from Artemis’ neck. You fist the leather firmly, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat. Harry’s nostrils flare as he retracts his arms. You’re fascinated by the way his tongue darts out of his mouth, swiping over his sunburnt lips.

“A few steps at a time,” he says, repeating his former words.

You nod, blowing out a shaky exhale. Gently, you dig your heels into Artemis’ belly and click your teeth. She snorts and takes a step forward; the air is swiftly knocked from your lungs.

“I’m right here,” Harry pipes up. He lays one palm against the back of the saddle, keeping pace. “I won’t let you fall.”

Gradually, you make it out of the stables. The distance can’t be more than fifteen or twenty feet, but it’s a start. You tug softly on the reins, and Artemis stops abruptly. The sudden pause has you lurching forward in your seat. You squeak; quicker than a lightning strike, Harry is there. His hand settles on the small of your back, keeping you steady.

You look down at him, and your gazes lock. Jade eyes gleam beneath the lustrous night sky. His attention falls lower, and only then do you realise that the hem of your robe has ridden up your leg. Most of your thigh is exposed—smooth skin on total display, mere inches from his face. You release an inaudible gasp, shifting your hips to the side so that the silk slips back down.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitches enticingly. He removes his touch from your back and turns away.

“Beautiful evening,” he says stiffly, peering up at the stars. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You clear your throat. “I’d like to dismount, now. Would you mind?”

He shakes his head and hums. “Not at all. Hold onto me.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, and he curls his fingertips into your waist. Wordlessly, he lifts you from Artemis’ back. You yelp when your ankle snags on one of the saddle’s leather straps. He stumbles backward, wrapping his arms tightly around your midsection and grunting in surprise. When you eventually regain your footing, your eyes widen at the compromising nature of your position.

Harry is clutching you against his torso, his face buried in your neck. Warm puffs of air leave his lips and coat the column of your throat; the sensation sends shivers down your spine. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, chest heaving with difficult, onerous breaths.

It’s a stance that should only be shared between lovers, you think. Between a husband and his wife.

Harry is not your husband.

And you are not his wife.

The two of you break apart almost immediately, choking on hasty, half-formed sentences.

“My apologies, miss—”

“No, you needn’t—I should have been more cautious—”

“It’s late; you must be spent—”

“I’m not ready to leave.”

Harry freezes, his jaw agape. Several seconds elapse before he can find it in himself to muster a reply.

“I beg your pardon?” He’s breathless, swept away by your confession.

You shift awkwardly.

“I’m not ready to leave,” you repeat. You clasp your hands behind your back and fix him with an even stare. You hope that he can’t hear the slight quiver at the base of your declaration. “I—I wish to spend more time with you.”

He blinks. “With me?”

You nod. “With you.”

“What…?” He hesitates. “What would you like to do?”

You shrug. “Anything.”

Harry puckers his lips, lost in thought. After a prolonged moment of deliberation, his features light up. “I know a place.”

“‘A place’?” you parrot, brows knitting together.

“A place,” he confirms. “You trust me, do you not?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” you say, scoffing quietly. “I believe I’ve made myself abundantly clear.”

He chuckles. You tug on the sleeves of your robe and grate your slippers into the dirt. Harry watches you with careful eyes.

“Do it now, then,” he says, nodding encouragingly. He holds out his hand once more, beckoning you closer. “Trust me, now.”

You chew on your bottom lip, gracing him with a curt bob of your head. Artemis huffs as you wrap her reins around your wrist and slide your fingers against Harry’s palm. He pats your knuckles gently, guiding them to the crook of his elbow.

“Shall we?” he asks. It’s impossible to read the emotion in his voice.

Your response of endorsement is meek. Gone is the confident woman from a minute ago: the one who stated what she wanted without a second thought. She slips through your grasp easily, disintegrating into a pile of dust and leaving nothing behind.

“We shall,” you choke out.

Harry’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, and Artemis’ hooves clunk against the ground as he leads you off into the night.

~*~

“This is so…”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

“‘Nice’?” You spin on your heel slowly, taking in your surroundings. “It’s incredible.”

The water trickling through the creek is crystal clear. A few shiny rocks peek out from the shallow stream, gleaming in the moonlight. You peer up at the stars—hundreds of diamonds, perfectly visible thanks to the large gap of the clearing. Crickets chirp along the edges of the bushes, and yellow-green fireflies ride the breeze.

“How did you find this place?” you breathe.

“It may sound foolish—,” Harry begins. He holds one hand out; you transfer Artemis’ reins into his palm. “—but I can’t remember.”

“Really?” you ask, stunned. You trail after him as he leads your horse to a nearby tree. He loops her leather harnesses around a thick branch, tying a proficient knot and giving it a few experimental tugs. Your gaze remains glued to his hands: the way his fingers work deftly, the way his knuckles flex with each pull—

“Really,” he says. A soft sigh tumbles from his mouth as he steps back. “Come with me.”

You follow him to the middle of the clearing, trying to anticipate his next move. What you don’t expect, however, is for him to drop to his knees. He falls backward, spine meeting the grass with a faint thump. You gasp, staring down at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” Harry hums, shooting you a playful smirk. He crosses his arms behind his head—you try to avoid staring at the prominent bulge of his biceps. “The weeds won’t bite.”

“O—Oh,” you stammer, nodding quickly. “Alright, then.”

Daintily, you lower yourself to the ground. He watches you with an amused expression on his face.

“What?” you say, pouting.

“Nothing.” He snickers quietly. You tuck your ankles beneath your thighs as he turns to the side, propping his head up with one hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong, miss, but…I presume that you don’t often make it a point to lay in the grass.”

“That would be an accurate presumption,” you say, laughing softly. Harry smiles.

“You should spend more time outside,” he says absentmindedly. “You’re always cooped up in the house.”

You cock one eyebrow teasingly. “Do you wish to see more of me, Harry?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, humour evident in his tone. “I am simply trying to instill some sense of adventure into your life.”

The corners of your lips kink upward. In a matter of seconds, however, your delight melts away, replaced by a somberness that you can’t seem to shake.

“I was far more adventurous before the accident,” you murmur, dropping your gaze. You reach out, fiddling with a few blades of grass in an attempt to avoid Harry’s doleful eyes. “Now, I…I’m afraid of everything, it seems.”

Silence hangs in the air between you, filled only by the steady symphony of chirping crickets.

“If I may ask—,” Harry starts, shifting closer. “—what happened?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Artemis shoved me off.”

“She did?”

“It wasn’t her fault!” you say quickly, holding up one hand. “She got spooked, I suppose. And I wasn’t expecting it, so…I fell.”

“What frightened her?” he asks, anxious creases digging into his forehead.

You shrug. “I don’t know. But since then, I’ve been uneasy about riding. If I’m oblivious to what alarmed her the first time, who’s to say that it won’t happen again?”

He nods. “I understand.”

You sigh, plucking a piece of grass from the dirt and twirling it between your fingers. “I wish I could be more like Drew,” you hum distantly. “Someone who throws themselves into their trauma instead of shying away from it.”

Harry’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You frown. “He—he never told you?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t a clue. What is it exactly that you’re referring—?”

“Our parents,” you say softly.

Harry’s mouth clamps shut. He inhales deeply, gracing you with a curt nod. You take his silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“They perished in a car accident,” you murmur, looking away. “My father was head of Markham Motors, at the time. He had overlooked a flaw in the latest model, and when they finally took the vehicle out for a drive, it—”

You break off, unable to continue.

Harry reaches forward, covering one of your hands with his. A puff of stale air catches in your throat. You glance down at him timidly, hoping that he can’t identify the flustered distress on your face.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, squeezing your fingers tenderly. “That must’ve been awful.”

You exhale shakily. “It was.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you say nothing else. Instead, you melt into your surroundings—the grass brushing your legs, the slow trickle of water in the creek, the dim buzz of fireflies drifting in the wind. At the edge of the clearing, Artemis snorts, lowers her head, and begins to graze.

At last, you decide to break through the stillness.

“Enough about my family,” you say. You recoil, subtly pulling your hand away. Harry is far too distracting. You’re afraid that if he touches you one more time, tonight, your poor heart will give out. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he replies. He settles back into his previous position: spine pressed flush against the ground, arms tucked coolly beneath his head.

“How are you?” you say. “How is your sister, in Paris?”

He peers up at you with raised eyebrows, impressed. “You remembered?”

“Is there a particular reason as to why I shouldn’t?”

Harry chuckles. “No, I suppose not.”

“Well, go on, then.” You rest your chin on your palm. “What is she like?”

“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

You scowl. “Harry.”

“Right, right.” He sighs, smiling fondly up at the sky. “She’s…she’s lovely, really. She just got engaged, as a matter of fact. I haven’t met her fiancé, but he’s stellar, based on how she describes him in her letters.”

“That’s wonderful,” you say. Your gaze drifts longingly over the bridge of his nose. “Send her my blessings, will you?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisting in a roguish smirk. “I reckon she’d find that a bit odd—the two of you have never met.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips, bashful. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Harry laughs; you’re captivated by the dimples embossed into his cheeks.

“I’m only joking,” he tells you, waving away your concerns. “She’ll appreciate that very much. I’m sure of it.”

You don’t reply. Silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, until his next words slice through the tension like a knife.

“She and I used to do this almost every night,” he murmurs.

“Do what?”

“Come outside,” he says, shrugging. “Lay on the ground. Stare up at the stars.” His irises glaze over with a forlorn look. “We always raced to see who could find the greatest number of constellations.”

“Really?” You don’t know why you’re so taken aback by his confession.

He nods. “Really.”

“Have you found any, tonight?”

He smiles. “Why don’t you come down here and see for yourself?”

The soil is surprisingly comfortable. You join him, resting your back against the grass and gazing up at the night sky. It’s an endless tapestry of diamonds—sparkling, infinite, beautiful. Your chest swells with a deep, relaxed breath as it all sinks in.

“Anything?” Harry asks expectantly.

You squint. After a long moment, a dejected sigh falls from your lips. “No. I’m not very good at this.”

He laughs. You watch, enthralled, as he lifts one hand and points to your left, singling out a curved cluster of stars.

“See these ones, over here? Shaped a bit like a hook? That’s Scorpius.”

“‘Scorpius’?”

“It means ‘scorpion’ in Latin,” Harry explains. “Scorpius was sent by the gods to kill Orion. He was then placed in the sky to advise mortals against the perils of vanity and pride.”

Vanity and pride.

Vanity and pride.

You bite your lip and turn to the side, tucking a palm under your cheek. The action draws Harry’s attention; he does a double take, stunned by the sudden, close proximity of your bodies. His mouth quirks up into a coy smile as he mimics your position, brows furrowed in diluted mystification.

“What is it?” he asks.

You shift, swallowing heavily.

“I’m afraid that I’ve been unfair to you,” you say softly, gazing straight into his eyes. “I—I’ve misjudged you terribly, and for that, I must apologise. I was a fool.”

“You needn’t—,” he starts, but you press on.

“You are kind,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “You are intelligent, and clever, and you have more class in a single finger than most men have in their entire bodies.”

“Miss—”

“I was wrong about you, and I regret allowing my biases to blind me in such an atrocious manner. Can you ever forgive—oomph!”

Harry’s kiss is passionate, bruising. You stiffen, muscles locking in astonishment. One of his hands rests on the ground, providing balance; the other is on your arm, calloused thumb stroking your skin through the thin silk of your robe. You’re frozen, unable to react, because his lips are on yours, and he’s touching your body, and you’re nearly certain that you’ve died and entered the afterlife.

When Harry pulls away after a few short seconds, he’s stupidly sheepish. His eyelashes flutter open, and his stare immediately floods with remorse.

“I—forgive me,” he stammers, tripping over the words. “That was deplorable. I should have asked—”

Roughly, you grab his face between your palms. His cheeks are soft and smooth, jawline dotted with the faintest hint of stubble. The two of you exchange a look—electric, charged, thrilling. A single, critical moment ensues, during which a distinct quote emerges from the deep recesses of your mind.

A girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of. 

The words echo in your head as you abandon all semblance of common sense, yanking Harry in by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again.

      July 14th, 1923

“Quickly! We haven’t got all day!”

“Patience!” you call from the top of the stairs. You guide one last strand of hair into place before hurrying down the flight.

Lydia is waiting for you on the main floor. You set your hands on your hips and fix her with a stern glare, huffing at her eagerness. She sticks her tongue out at you. When you open your mouth to admonish her, she whips around and scurries through the large double doors, disappearing into the backyard.

Upon stepping outside, you find Martin and Andrew already sat on the patio. Lydia settles into one of the chairs around the table, smiling brightly and beckoning you over.

“There you are,” Drew says as you approach. “Beth should be out with dinner any minute now.”

“Do you know what she’s prepared?” you ask, tucking yourself into your seat.

Andrew shrugs and emits a noncommittal sound, clueless.

“Very well,” you sigh, casting a shallow glance across the table. “Good evening, Mister Russell,” you say, tipping your chin in Martin’s direction.

“Good evening.” He beams, tugging on the lapels of his yellow blazer. “Haven’t seen you all day—where have you been hiding?”

You cluck your tongue, tugging nervously at the hem of your dress. “I hardly think it fair for a woman to disclose her spaces of refuge.”

“Stop being so cryptic!” Lydia laughs. She turns to Martin, declaring matter-of-factly, “She was locked up in the library. It’s her favourite room in the entire house.”

Martin hums, diverting his gaze back to you. The expression on his face is indecipherable. “You read?”

You nod. “I do.”

A subtle movement in the periphery of your vision catches your attention. You turn your head to the side, and your heart nearly stops when you spot Harry making his way across the lawn. It appears as though he’s done for the evening, hands caked in grime and shirt speckled with dirt. He steps onto the dusty trail leading into the woods, beginning his journey home.

You haven’t spoken to him since last night—since he kissed you, and then you kissed him, and then the two of you kissed each other until you ran out of air to breathe. He led Artemis to the stables and walked you back to the house just as dawn broke, lighting up the sky with faint hues of pink and blue. You remember sharing a final embrace at the base of the steps before bidding him goodbye, flashing a smile and disappearing inside without another word.

“Would you excuse me?” you say, pushing away from the table and scrambling up out of your seat. “I just—I need to ask Harry about the lilies that he planted yesterday—I’ll only be a moment.”

You scamper off without waiting for a response.

“Harry? Harry!”

He pauses at the call of his name, turning around gingerly. When he spies you hurrying over, his eyes immediately drop to the ground.

You stop in front of him, tilting your head to the side. “Hello.”

“Hello, miss.” He doesn’t lift his gaze. The realisation makes you frown.

“How—how are you?” you ask, licking your lips and clasping your hands behind your back.

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I—” Your nostrils flare. “I’m alright. I saw you walking home, and I just wanted to—”

“Forgive me.” Harry cuts you off swiftly. He refuses to look at you, still. “I’m weary. It’s been a long day.”

You recoil slightly, stunned by his candour.

“Of course,” you splutter, nodding. “We were both up quite late last night; time evaded us, I suppose—”

“So, you understand,” he says, stepping back. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

You open your mouth to stop him, but your voice betrays you. Your chest grows tight when he lifts two fingers to his temple, offering up a half-hearted salute.

“Harry—”

He finally meets your gaze, and something inside of you breaks. His eyes are dull and gloomy, revealing nothing. You want to rush forward, to take his face in your hands and hold him close. To run your nails through his hair and smother him in a flurry of hard, worried kisses. To ask him why he’s acting this way. He had been so happy last night—what changed?

But the others are watching from the patio, and you’re a goddamned coward, and you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

“Enjoy your dinner, miss,” Harry says. His tone is emotionless—it makes you want to cry. “Take care.”

~*~

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[cdroloisms]

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !! 

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: Slight description of Animal Violence. Nothing too graphic, but if the genre of stuff you see on Shark week isn’t for you, skip over the part denoted by the *******

Word Count: 3530 words

Summary: You learn more about Cruz and about yourself

Prologue

Chapter 1

“-and then he just leaves. What do I even do with that?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Your roommate hums, refilling up your glass of wine. “And you don’t have his number, so you can’t call or text him right?” You take a large sip, nodding and trying not to spill wine on your pajamas.

Well, kind of.

You hadn’t told anyone about Cruz, not even your family, because frankly you didn't know where to start. But when you walked into the apartment, sullen and dragging your feet, your roommate, Caitlyn, had offered wine, ice cream, and a willing ear. That's when the floodgates opened (with some modified details, of course).

“We’re meeting at our usual place in a couple days, I just…”Another sip of wine,”...hate sitting here, not knowing what he’s feeling, what I did, how I’m feeling.” You set down your glass and throw yourself back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I feel so stupid, like a fucking teenager, and I hate it.” Caitlyn sets her own wine glass down and nudges the half-empty ice cream carton towards you.

“It’s for the best your feeling all this now, then you can come at ‘im all composed and articulate. Really throw him off his game.” You grab a spoon and the carton, Caitlyn patting your shoulder as you take a pathetic bite.

“You’re right but I-I don’t even know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Sounds like this guy’s got you hooked. At least that’s a start right?” Caitlyn hums, pressing her chin into her palm. “To be completely honest, Sam took a couple days to warm up to me. And I never told her this, but she gave me hardcore pretentious vibes on our first date.”

Caitlyn gives a long spiel about her awkward first soulmate date (“Seriously, who brings up ‘the superiority of vinyl’ on the first date!”), and if you were in the mind to be a good roommate, or hadn’t heard this story before, you might’ve listened closer. But only one question was occupying your thoughts; Did Cruz like you?

--------

You arrive at the boardwalk an hour early. You don’t immediately go to the tidepool, instead choosing to take a long walk on the beach, taking a moment to calm your racing heart and collect your thoughts.

You like Cruz. You like him as much as two people who just met can, despite a less-than-romantic first impression. But does he like you?

You never thought you would have to ask your soulmate that.

There’s a small thwap as you slap your cheeks, heat simmering your skin even as the cold water laps at your feet.

This is ridiculous. You’ve talked twice. Caitlyn and Sam have a thriving relationship (You should know, you share a wall with Caitlyn) and even they got off to a rocky start.

The pit grows in your stomach, thinking of Cruz’s disinterested stare as he swims into the open ocean. The weight of it almost sinks to your toes.

You shake your head, slapping your cheeks once more.

Today is a new day. Just go through the motions _____.

You reach the tidepool, setting down your picnic blanket and bag. You grab one of your notebooks and prop it open as you bite into an apple. You’re 30 minutes early, might as well get some reading done.

The waves crash and pull against the rocks, pleasant studying ambience, but is interrupted by several clicks and abrupt, out of rhythm, splashes. You look up, immediately in awe of the sight.

About 50 feet away from the entrance to the tidepool is a pod of dolphins, breaching out of the water. You grab a pencil, your phone, and your notebook, tiptoeing through the tidepool to get a better look.

Good choice wearing water shoes today.

From closer up, you notice the distinct lack of dorsal fins and realize they must be Northern White Whale Dolphins. 60 of them have congregated in a group, most likely scouting for easy food or taking a rest.

Their pod is pretty small though. What are they doing so close to the shore?

The pod continues to play as you take shaky photos with your camera, trying to balance your notebook and pencil in the crook of your elbow. Through your viewfinder, you spot a familiar shape, not 30 feet from the pod, peeking his head out of the water. Cruz’s black eyes narrow into focus before he fully submerges. Your eyes widen as you lower your camera.

The water above Cruz rushes as he swims closer and closer to the pod. You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you finagle your way up to a nearby rock. You need a better view, and it might be best to be out of the water while this happens.

The dolphins haven’t noticed Cruz yet, still gliding along the waves. There's a quick flash of his strong back before he dives even deeper into the water. The rock slightly digs into your stomach as you lean over to get a better look.

What I wouldn’t give for a drone right now.

Before long, there is a burst of clicks, the largest dolphins quickly surrounding the group and issuing them away. They’ve spotted Cruz, but one is a little too slow.

Cruz’s dorsal fin cuts through the water, close enough to the surface that you can make out the details of his determined face. His eyes have latched onto the slowest dolphin and his speed increases exponentially. His long tail flicks back and forth as he gains on it.

*******

The dolphin flips into the air, trying to gain distance. But like a flash Cruz’s large hand shoots out of the water, getting a hold of the dolphin’s tail, and pulls. You see his shoulder and tricep bulge as the dolphin thrashes in his grip. His head once again breaches the water as he digs his other clawed hand into the dolphin’s side, raking into it as he pulls the dolphin closer to him. The two tussle and wrestle against each other, going in and out of the water as the dolphin tries to push Cruz away.

But Cruz is limber, keeping a tight grip on the dolphin as he maneuvers his body alongside it. His torso raises up as he pushes the dolphin down under the water and into submission. Cruz then yanks the dolphin’s front upwards and out of the water, grip still tight on it’s rear, before opening up his maw and tearing into the dolphin’s neck. He rips his head back and forth until the dolphin stills, a large pool of red slowly cascading around them.

*******

Your pencil hangs loosely in your fingers as you watch, eyes locked on Cruz. You think the struggle must’ve lasted only 20 seconds, but in the moment, it felt like hours. Cruz’s chest heaves as he takes another bite, serrated teeth easily ripping the flesh, as casual as the lobster roll from your last meeting.

Blood drips from his mouth and covers his claws. His cards his fingers back through his hair, leaving crimson streaks that shine against his black locks. Cruz bites off another mouthful before heaving the dolphin onto his shoulder.

As a large science nerd, you’ve always enjoyed watching nature in progress. But a new, exciting, vaguely uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut as you watch Cruz suck in his fingers, picking out stray bits of meat from his large, sharp teeth. A feeling like a shiver rushing down your spine and heat in between your legs.

Oh my god. Why was that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?

Cruz turns away and submerges himself, giving you a nice shot of his defined back muscles as he sums up his hunt. You can’t take your eyes off his form moving just below the water, even as your 5 PM alarm goes off.

You knew Cruz was larger, and far stronger, than you, but seeing him in his element reminds you just how easily he could tear you apart.

God, and I kind of want him to.

As he swims further away from the shore, you see two black dots in the distance. You take out your phone again and open up the camera to zoom in.

Speaking of huge. Holy shit.

The focus is a little blurry, but it’d be hard for you to miss the massive mermaids. With only their shoulders and up out of water, they still tower over Cruz by at least a head each. Both have long black hair, intertwined with what looks to be seaweed and various types of shells. The one on the right is holding two larger masses over her shoulders, positioned the way a lumberjack would hold a fallen tree. Cruz reemerges with his dolphin in tow, frighteningly small.

Cruz’s gestures indicate they’re having a conversation, mostly one-sided. The dolphin on Cruz’s back bounces as he talks animatedly, his hunt small when compared to the two weights the right mermaid carries. With your old phone you can only catch a glimpse of the left mermaid’s lips moving. Cruz’s energy dims as she continues and he seems to sink deeper into the water.

The left mermaid holds out her hand. Cruz hesitates, then throws his dolphin into her arms. She swings it over like it weighs nothing and then shakes her hand as if to shoo him away. The right one rumbles with laughter. Cruz nods, solemn as the two submerge and swim away.

Cruz stays there for a minute, looking out at the horizon. When he finally turns, his movements are lethargic as he swims towards the tidepool.

You scramble down from the rock and quickly tiptoe  back to your blanket, fumbling to stuff your notebook and pencil back into your bag.

Cruz glides in, his eyes not meeting yours, locked in thought.

“Hey Cruz.” You wave, struggling to catch your breath from your impromptu rush.

Cruz slowly looks up at you, still slightly downcast.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You  shake your head furiously.

“It’s no problem! I got her kind of early, and then I saw you hunting and didn’t want to bother.” Cruz’s eyes widen a bit, before her recoils into himself and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, sorry. You probably didn’t want to see that….” You once again shake your hands and head back and forth.

“No! No I-, I actually thought it was super cool!” Cruz quirks his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Yeah! It was like my own personal Shark week. Like wow, you looked amazing out there.”

Cruz’s cheek tint a cerulean blue, the corners of his lips turning up at the sides as he fiddles with his fingers.

“And those dolphins are the fastest kind around here, but bam! You were on them like a firecracker, kind of wish I had a slow motion camera.” You laugh, before realizing Cruz probably didn’t understand half of your analogies. “You looked uh, you were really good at it.”

Well duh, you idiot. He’s a shark.

“Thank you.” Cruz shoots you a tiny smile, blush still running across his face and down his neck. The ensuing silence is only slightly uncomfortable, as Cruz’s blush stays strong and you're sure you develop one of your own. You try and focus on something else to calm down, but catch a glimpse of his biceps, and fail miserably.

“Oh, that’s right.” Cruz reaches over and sticks his hand in between two nearby rocks. His brow furrows before his eyes light up, and he pulls out a….handbag?

It’s loosely sewn together with kelp, made of some sort of seal skin and closed with a seashell button. Cruz pops it open and begins to rummage inside.

“Gotcha.” Cruz pulls something out of the bag, before turning and hiding it behind his back.

“Uh, whatcha got there?” Cruz smiles, his blue blush painting his face from top to tip.

“I found this thing and thought you um….might want to look at it?” Cruz pulls his arm in front, revealing a reflective white shell, just a bit longer than his palm.

“It’s not a crab, but I thought it was neat looking so….”

You slowly move towards him, gesturing to ask if you can hold the shell. Cruz nods, almost shoving it into your hand.

The color is completely white, sharp, almost polished-looking. It carves into several rings before sloping into a point. It’s empty, the inside free of any sand or tiny algae.

“Do you know what it’s called?”

You look back to Cruz and nearly brush your nose against his. You realize how hot his body heat is as he leans over you to look at the shell. Your shoulders just barely touch.

As if dipped into boiling water, your face alights into red and your body convulses to jerk away from the heat.

“Yeah-Yes! Actually I do, it’s-it looks like a Kellets W-Welk. Well, the remains of one’s shell anyway.”

Cruz stays close, letting out a small “Ohhh.” as he squints his eyes to get a closer look. It’s the most on-land you’ve seen him, with the water lapping at the base of his tail. Sitting down, your head only comes to his clavicle. The uncomfortable burning stirs in your gut.

“Is it a hermit crab?”

“Not, it’s a sea snail. They're not really on land like crabs.” You brush your thumbs over the shell’s ridges. “There are quite a few varieties of sea snails around here, lots of beautiful shells. Their babies look pretty cool too.”

Cruz nods, eyes intent, and it reminds you of the elementary kids you saw when working at the aquarium. Your heart skips as you futilely try to fight the smile on your face.

“Can you eat ‘em?”

You chuckle and Cruz’s face grows a darker shade of blue. “Yeah, you can. You’ve got a good eye for snacks huh?”

Cruz pouts playfully, blue still awash on his cheeks. “Maybe, but I’m not always thinking about food.” Just as he finishes, you hear his stomach rumble. You stifle your laugh with your hand and Cruz grabs his stomach angrily. “Sh-Shut up! It’s almost dinner!”

The two mermaids flash in your mind. You see Cruz handing over the dolphin as they swim away. Then you see Cruz, furiously cracking open crabs with a single-minded purpose. The smile drops from your chin.

How often does that happen?

Cruz was small for a Great White. You hadn’t even thought about why. You don’t even know if you want to.

“They’re pretty tasty, but their shells are a lot more fun.” Cruz furrows his brow again. “Here, let me show you.” You scoot yourself closer to him, putting the white shell against his ear. His eyes widen and he leans backwards a bit from your closeness, but the shell still lingers by his ear. “Do you hear it?”

Cruz stills, furrowing his brows even deeper, but then they rise in surprise. He leans back towards you, tentatively grabbing your wrist and pulling the shell closer.

“Its-”

“The ocean.”

The same childlike wonder from before flushes on his face as he looks at you, bringing your stomach a flutter. Cruz presses his head down closer to the shell, the bottom of his cheek now touching your palm. Cruz’s skin is cool against yours, slightly damp, and you feel the hint of roughness as his chin brushes against your wrist.

“How-How did you-”

“My mom showed me once. I mean, technically it’s the echo of the blood coursing through your ear, which reverberates and sounds like waves crashing. But it’s still a neat trick.”

“Oh, I see….”

From this close, you can see the small freckles which dapple Cruz’s cheeks, peppering across the bridge of his nose and up onto his forehead. Specks of dark blue, black, and green contrasts against his light gray skin, like the setting sun catching the pulling tides.

In the moment, you long to touch them.

So you do.

It’s so….soft.

As your thumb brushes up his jaw, the mottled colors are overwhelmed and overshadowed by Cruz’s furious blush. Cruz moves away so quickly that he unfurls his grip on a nearby rock and loses his balance. He braces himself and hisses as his thin skin nicks the corner of a rock.

“Oh my god, I’m so-so sorry! I just- oh my goodness are you okay?” You retract the shell closer to your chest, your other hand outstretched to steady Cruz. When he flinches away, you pull it back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space like that.”

Cruz's chest heaves but he doesn’t move or say anything. From the corner of your eye you spot a tiny bit of blood leaking onto the rock.

“Oh shit, wait I-I should have something.” You whip around to your backpack, shuffling and pushing aside your notebook to find your emergency first aid kit. Water wells in the corner of your eyes as you frantically search. You desperately try to will the tears away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid-

Your inner insults are interrupted when your fingers brush against the familiar plastic fabric pouch. Before turning back to Cruz, you hastily wipe your eyes.

“Here, this should help.” You hold out the small thing of gauze and an antiseptic wipe. Cruz slowly takes them, fiddling with the gauze until it's undone. He picks up the antiseptic package with the tips of his forefinger and thumb, eyes squinting as he tries to read the small text.

“That’s to clean the wound with, to get the gross stuff out.” Cruz’s eyes narrow even further, brushing his thumb over the paper wrapping. Tentatively, he plops the unwrapped wipe on his wound. He looks back, clearly confused. “You have to unwrap it first, then wipe it.” His blush returns as he jerks his eyes away from you, embarrassed with you watching.

“I could do-”

“I’ve got it.” Cruz snaps, finding the perforation and ripping it off quickly.

“Okay, but it’s gonna sting-”

“Ow, shit!” Cruz curses as he presses the wipe against the apex of his cut, whining and biting his lower lip.

“If it’s hurting that means it’s working.” Cruz nods, but he hastily wipes the wound and sighs as he crumples it up.Cruz wraps his cut with medical precision, reminding you of boxers right before a match. He cuts the gauze short with a snip of his teeth

“Wow, you're really good at that.” Cruz snorts.

“I don’t need any jackasses going into a frenzy anytime soon. That would be the perfect end to this shit day.”

Your heart freezes as your stomach drops, and you recoil into yourself. The nausea of guilt washes over you. And then that makes you feel even worse, and so the cycle continues.

Cruz notices your sheepish, downtrodden stare, and frantically waves his good hand.

“Wait, shit, no, thats-thats not what I meant. Uh…” He loses track of his sentence, mouth agape as he looks for words. “I mean….thank you.” He fiddles with his claws. “For the bandage, a-and the food a couple days ago. This is...nice.”

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly his praise perks you up, rolling over your tense muscles like a masseuse.

“Thank you for the shell, it was very thoughtful of you.” Cruz sputters.

“I just passed by it on a swim, it wasn’t a big deal. The reefs got a ton of them, so, y’know.”

You don’t know, but it’s cute watching him fumble with his words. He’s so bashful for an apex predator you saw kill a dolphin not 20 minutes ago.

“I could even-well, it’s close that we- we could go sometime? You and me?” Cruz fiddles with his claws once more, and you wonder if it’s a nervous compulsion. “It’s a little ways away from the coast but with me carrying you, we could probably see a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Cruz’s nervous smile is much more lopsided than his regular one. It accentuates the dimple on his left cheek.

“I would love that.”

-----------

You decide to meet up early on Saturday to get a head start on the sunlight. You leave the boardwalk giddy, your nerves tingling pleasantly with pre-plan jitters. All this energy means you might have to spill to Caitlyn once more, just to let it all out. You’ll most likely tell her you two are getting breakfast by the beach, maybe stop by an aquarium.

Looking at all the coral and the crustaceans. Just me, in Cruz’s arms-

You stop, your nerves bubbling up under your skin, like steam is blowing out of your ears as you think about what is in store for Saturday.

You’re still not sure how Cruz feels about you. But there isn’t a show of a doubt now; You have a crush on him.

----------

Cruz sits in the water, cracking open a leftover oyster he had left in his bag for emergencies. Emergencies like being so flustered he can't possibly go back to the pod, not without looking incredibly suspicious.

He brushes his thumb over his cheek, and it’s almost like you're there again.

So….soft.

[binunus]

college bf!rocky

a/n next is our rock and aegyo king sorry sanha park minhyuk !! also I was going to post this yesterday :( but me and my roommates got a little too lit for valentine’s and I literally sat for 7 hours straight in zoom so I couldn’t finish it until now but !! I hope you loves enjoy!!

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 4.9k

_________________________________

alright aright alrightttt

we’re gonna switch it up a little bit

add a little flavor

because as much as I would love to say that college bf!astro all got their partners in a cute and smooth sailing way

we all know relationships aren’t that easy

but before we get into how you and rocky met

major: dance

are we surprised? no

rocky is a prodigy in dance

he’s been dancing since he could walk

he started choreographing at age 6

it just made sense for him, like even his parents were like go pursue dance, you’re not a law or business type of kid

he can master any type of dance from jazz, to ballet, to street, to contemporary, to tango, whatever you can think of

he’s roommates with music tech!jinjin

jin literally takes care of him all the time bc rocky??? when he comes back to the apt after dance practice?? dead weight

only passes his gen ed classes bc eunwoo tutors him

if it weren’t for the boys, rocky would literally live in the dance studio

they make sure to drag him out for fun and food at least once a week

or they join and keep him company while he’s practicing

have they gotten noise complaints before while messing around in the dance studio? yes

rocky is loud alright, especially when he’s with astro

he’s a perfectionist, literally will not leave the studio until he’s 100% satisfied with his progress

oh the amount of times myungjun and jin nag at him to take care of his health

now now

you’re also a dance major

people could say that you and rocky are the top two dancers of your year

gasp a rivals to lovers au??? you betcha baby

granted you switched into a dancer major your second year so rocky technically had seniority

but boom baby as soon as you made your appearance, it rocked his world

now im not saying rocky’s cocky bc obviously he’s a cute hardworking humble boy

but was he used to always being placed first in evaluations or getting the highest marks??? yeah

so the first time you placed first and he placed second??? it lit a bit of a fire in him

he’s seen a ton of good dancers in his time, but no one has ever matched his capabilities better than you

there was an unspoken rivalry between you two, everyone knew about it 

you both always wanted to upstage the other

there was always a tension whenever you two were in the same room

but like...have either of you ever really talked to each other besides side remarks in class?

no

and it didn’t really help that the whole dance department basically pit you up against each other to see who was really the best dancer of your year

so you and rocky never had the proper introduction to a friendship, it just went straight to rivalry 

and then came the announcements for the end of the year showcase

and instead of putting on a solo, the department chairs decided to have you and rocky perform a duet

and you’ve never worked with him before so you were dreading the first time you met up

you to your roommate: ugh i can’t believe im partnered up with rocky, that arrogant rude–

your roommate: have you ever even talked to him, y/n? he’s actually very nice

you: no...but that’s what he wants you to believe!

your ego sorta just went along with the whole thing

and rocky was 15 min late to your meeting bc he was out eating food with the guys so your patience?? very thin

literally as soon as he stepped into the dance studio, the air turned stuffy

rocky could feel you glaring at him and he just smirks?? 

rocky: did I make you wait long y/n?

you: yeah you did

he liked pushing your buttons?? idk he just felt satisfaction knowing that any small of action of his affected you that much

it made him feel like he was winning or whatever

and god it took literally forever for you two to decide on a song and genre of performance for the showcase

you wanted contemporary, he wanted ballet

you were literally disagreeing so much on it that you had to ask Siri to flip a coin

and then you fought and said that Siri was rigged when it chose tails (contemporary)

so you decided on a happy? mix of both

rocky at the end of your first meeting: i get that we’re not exactly friends, y/n, but we have to work together so let’s at least be professional

you: i can if you can

rocky: fine

you two literally bicker like five year olds on a playground

even the guys are like ???? why are you being so childish ???

you have 2 months of preparation until the showcase and you start meeting once a week for choreography and practice since given the assignment

you two are pretty civil for the most part, you make the contemporary parts and he makes the ballet parts and then you combine it when you meet up and see how it can incorporate and complement each other

there’s not much joking around ?? like you know how rocky’s a clown when he’s teaching astro choreography?? it’s not like that at all

and honestly you two are too caught up in your rivalry and tension to notice that your styles really match and highlight each other well??

there’s definitely a lot of “i could do this better than you” from both sides

i repeat: you are children

and then there’s this one practice where you and rocky are trying a pas de deux for the first time

(i literally looked this term up, it’s basically what jungkook and jimin from bts did during the 2020 mma black swan intro...if you haven’t seen it, watch it bc it is perfection mmm chefs kiss)

and you don’t know if it’s because you didn’t have enough momentum or rocky didn’t prep himself enough for the lift but he ends up dropping you and you both fall

and you both immediately start blaming each other for the mishap

until you lift your hand to point at him and it just hurts

it’s like a switch goes off, rocky’s immediately concerned and he’s like gently taking your hand like: holy shit are you okay??

you shake your head and you’re wincing whenever you try to move it

you: ow fuck rocky, I think it’s sprained

and he suddenly feels so guilty, like he goes silent

you: can we stop for today? I’m gonna go get this checked out, make sure it’s not broken

rocky: do you want me to go with you?

you: no. I’ll see you next week.

boy he feels so bad, he texts you throughout the course of the following week asking if you’re okay, asking your roommate if you’re okay, telling you he’s sorry that he dropped you

you didn’t respond much, not bc you felt weird texting him–well, you did a little bit shhh–but bc you were beating yourself up for getting injured a month before the showcase

you show up to practice the next week with your wrist in a compression bandage

and he doesn’t greet you with a quip like he usually does, he immediately grabs your wrist (gently) and he’s like inspecting the bandage

you: uh...the doctor said I should be careful with it for a week or two if i want it to heal faster. so don’t bitch at me if i’m not going all out

rocky: y/n...i’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to injure you, it was my fault that we didn’t execute the pas de deux

you just shrug: it was both our faults...if I didn’t fall on my wrist maybe we could have avoided this little obstacle

rocky: if I caught you correctly, you wouldn’t have even fallen

you: are we really arguing right now about this??

and then the two of you just laugh??? 

this is the first real pleasant interaction you’ve had with him

and you notice like wow rocky had a nice smile

you: i should be back to normal before the showcase so we should be fine

rocky: don’t push it though while we’re practicing alright? if your wrist starts hurting then stop, and don’t even think about doing any floor choreo

the atmosphere between you and rocky change after that

he becomes pretty concerned about your recovery–and maybe it’s bc he still blames himself for the cause of it

each night before your set practice days, he always shoots you a text asking how you’re feeling and how your wrist is doing

he brings ice packs, painkillers, and extra bandages during your practices just in case you need it

and you’re actually pretty touched by his concern

about two weeks before the showcase, your wrist is back to full movement and you’re like excited to actually practice to your best ability

from now on you see each other twice a week, just to get that detail and fine-tuning perfected

rocky’s still a bit hesitant to have you go full out but you reassure him that you’re fine

you both try the pas de deux again the day you take your bandage off 

and you can see that he’s nervous to try it

you: rocky, i’m fully healed now. we haven’t practiced this move since the first time and we need it in our routine

rocky: but...y/n, what if I drop you again??

you: you won’t...i trust you 

and you really did, that move requires a lot of trust between partners and you know? maybe it didn’t work out the first time because of the lack of trust between you two

and so you go through the full routine and rocky was holding his breath when that part of the choreography came up but you both successfully did it!! and it was a beautiful move

he was so excited at the end of the run through that he hugged you

and you were smiling too bc this was the first time you did a full run through without any stops in between

you both don’t even notice that all the hostility is gone??

and the tension suddenly changed from hatred to...dare I say it...sexual

oo baby the day of the showcase you two were hella nervous 

but c’mon you and rocky were the best of the best so ofc you absolutely killed the performance

your energies literally merged as soon as the music started

every move was flawless

and you both had to face each other during your ending pose and you were just like looking at him like ??? wtf ??? did you maybe wanna kiss him??

and you know the look that rocky has in his eyes when he’s dancing

imagine that literally piercing into your soul

you got the shivers waiting for the lights to dim 

you both received a standing ovation after your duet obviously

astro watching it bc they always support rocky: they’re gonna fuck 100%

fast forward to the next term bc you both didn’t really have a reason to contact each other during summer break now that the showcase was done

you and rocky had two classes together, dance research and advanced modern technique

it was then that you started to see his actual personality and how goofy of a person he was

you still had a rivalry of course, but now it was healthy

instead of trying to bring each other down, you both started motivating each other to do better

and yes you’ve always been impressed with how good of a dancer rocky was (and vice versa), but now whenever you saw him practice you start to feel a little bit of stir in your stomach and shit are you blushing??

and then you two get paired up again for your midterm evaluation

your teacher: i saw the chemistry you had for the showcase last term, i think you two would work well together for this project

and god is your teacher trying to murder you??? the theme of this midterm was “couple dance” to encourage collaboration or whatever

you were just thankful that the song choice she gave you was more upbeat and not sensual bc you know for a fact that you would not survive doing a sexy dance routine with rocky

but that didn’t stop the way your skin felt like it was on fire whenever he touched you for partner-dependent moves

this time around, you did the choreography process together and it was actually pretty fun??

you and him would bounce back ideas and joke around whenever something looked stupid

you and rocky did this by the way for reference

and then there was one late night when you two were practicing

it was around 2 am, no one else was in the music building and you both didn’t have class the next day so you two were just like fuck it let’s just practice until campus security kicks us out or whatever

you both were literally dancing for four hours, not just this new routine but old ones and freestyles as well

and then you were doing your new routine and during the part where he had to twirl and dip you, you both fall again

but no one got injured this time luckily

and you both just burst out laughing, maybe you were a little delirious at this point in the night

you: i can’t believe you dropped me again

rocky’s laughing and you both just look at each other, and he’s hovering above you right???

and your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you’re positive he can hear it

and you’re thankful that your face was already hot from dancing so that he couldn’t tell that you were in fact blushing

rocky’s like looking at you for a good minute or so and he’s just like thinking in his head: have you always been this cute?

and maybe it’s bc you guys have been getting along so well lately and the vibes are??? immaculate

but the atmosphere suddenly gets super thick and he !! just !! leans down !! and !! kisses !! you !!

and phew baby you bet that you immediately respond to it

you’re literally making out on the floor for like five minutes

and mind you, five minutes is a long time

until rocky’s phone rings loudly through the speaker and you both suddenly separate

he scurries to his phone and you sit up trying to compose yourself 

jinjin: park minhyuk where are you?! it’s 3 am!!

you literally hear jinjin scolding rocky through the phone and you laugh a little bc it’s so cute how he’s getting nagged right now

rocky: hyung...im practicing...

jinjin: do i need to drag you out of there?! i’ll literally call bin to carry your ass to our apartment! how long have you been practicing huh?? have you eaten dinner at all??

rocky: okay okay I’ll come back home

he turns to you after ending the call and he’s so !! shy !!

rocky: I guess that’s the end of our practice haha...do you want me to walk you back to your place?? it’s pretty late out

you: yeah that’d be nice...hm you sure your hyung’s not gonna call a search party for you??

you’re teasing him and he just pouts

rocky: i’ll be fine

rocky walks you back to your apartment and it’s a little?? awkward?? 

but before you bid him goodbye he’s like: uh...the kiss earlier...sorry if I surprised you

your cheeks are hot again: it’s um...it’s okay, I didn’t mind it...it was actually pretty nice...I guess...

and rocky’s heart skips a beat and now he’s blushing: yeah...it was...i’ll see you in class then??

you: yeah, i’ll see you. text me when you get home okay?

he nods and waits until you’re safely inside and then he just starts grumbling to himself

rocky: i’ll see you in class?? could i say anything more stupid??? 

rocky’s adorable okay

him texting you when he gets back: im home :)

you: that’s good! good night rocky :)

he goes to the guys the day after like: i have a predicament !! me and y/n kissed !! 

jinjin: that’s why you were late last night??

eunwoo: you dirty dog, doing it in the dance studio??

rocky: we didn’t do anything else hyung !!

bin: so did you ask them out??

rocky: no...i said...i’ll see you in class

myungjun: i’ll see you in class?!?! are you an idiot??

sanha: hyung even I’d ask y/n out after that

rocky: i know !! im dumb okay!! help me

sanha: you’re a lost case sorry

jinjin: why don’t you start with, hey y/n do you wanna get some food with me??

rocky: AHHHH

yes he does want to ask you out, yes he does want to kiss you again more than he’d like to admit, but he’s shy

you’re not faring any better, you and roommate were literally talking about it all weekend

the next time you see rocky (in class), you two are awkward as fuck

you both keep stealing glances at each other and then if one of you get caught, you both immediately look away

those 50 minutes of class could not go by any slower

and you were so ready to book it after the professor dismissed you but then you hear rocky call your name

rocky: hey y/n, are you free right now?

you: uh yeah! why what’s up

rocky: do you...um...wanna get some coffee with me?? or food or something??

you: do you mean like just to hang out or...uh like a date?

rocky: a date...if you want it to be

and cue the blushies again

you and rocky end up going to this cute cafe and get smoothies bc neither of you were feeling caffeine at the moment

and the whole time you two are just ??? so cute and shy and awkward with each other ???

which is such a contrast from how you two would dance together

rocky’s so sweet, really the cutest boy

gives you so many butterflies

the two of you end up going on little cafe dates before practice 

and you’re all cute and wholesome

and then he turns all passionate and dominant when you start dancing

like wow alright rocky giving you whiplash or whatever

when you show the routine for your midterm, the teacher and other students give you both high praises 

and he’s all giddy after class and he goes up to you: i think its safe to say that we have really good chemistry when we work together, don’t you think?

you’re smiling hehe but you wanna mess with him a little: hmm i think we’re alright, but who knows, i might mesh well with someone else

and then he’s all frowny, a little jealous: what do you mean someone else? do you make out with someone who just has alright chemistry with you??

your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his mouth: im kidding!!

rocky just smirks at your embarrassed reaction and he like tickles your sides

and then he just grabs your hand like: don’t find another dance partner y/n, just be mine

how could you say no to that??? especially when rocky’s just looking all handsome and charming and shit??? exactly. you can’t and why would you ever say no in the first place??

you and rocky dating?? biiiig news in the dance department

and even outside of it

bc lowkey rocky had a bit of a fanclub bc of how good he is at dancing, are we shocked? no

the boys are so happy for him !!

you meet his friends literally the day the two of you start dating

and you’re a bit nervous meeting them bc ofc you want them to like you, they’re his friends

but they’re so sweet...and headass

when rocky brings you to their dinner, the five of them literally start applauding at your entrance

you were so confused and rocky’s just out here with second hand embarrassment

he’s the cutest boyfriend

shy with pda in public (unless you’re dancing), most he’ll do is hold your hand

but in private he’s very clingy

loves backhugging you

he also tickles you when he wants to be a little shit

which is 50% of the time

very playful bf, will tease you at least once every day

if you two are just practicing dancing, he’ll make any sort of excuse to hold you or kiss you

asddfadsjf he’s so cute

gets very soft at night especially when you two are worn out from practice

just wants to go back to your (or his) apartment and cuddle and sleep

imagine just you two cuddling in bed after hours of dancing and he’s just spooning you and he mumbles tiredly into your shoulder: you’re amazing y/n...you’re one of the best dancers i’ve ever seen

and before, his pride would have never allowed him to say that, but now it can

not really one for pet names in my opinion, but he does call you “my y/n”

after you two start dating, you begin to call him by his real name, minhyuk

or you say hyukie

he lowkey loves it when you call him that, it’s so endearing

the guys teasing him, cooing at rocky all gross like : heyyy hyukkie

then rocky just like crosses his arms: only y/n can call me hyukie

he didn’t realize he loves couple dances so much until you and him are dating

well he only loves it because you’re his partner ofc

alright hear me out !! slow dancing with rocky

slow !! dancing !! with !! rocky !!

he dims the lights in the dance studio until it’s just a single spotlight and some slow romantic music comes on and he just grabs you by the hand and twirls you once before pulling you close and you’re just swaying side to side

and then he presses your foreheads together and he’s just looking into your eyes and gives you the softest smile

!!! im freaking out!! i want this so bad !!

that’s how the first i love you comes out

surprise, you say it first

okay but like in the moment, the atmosphere is literally so perfect, and you can just see how much he treasures you and you always feel butterflies whenever he does this, but there was just something that night that made you say it

like your chest was constricting so hard and you were thinking to yourself, i love this man

and so you just said it

and omg the smile on rocky’s face just widens and he kisses you so sweetly before he says it back

loves kissing you, your lips are like a drug to him

can literally make out with you for hours

has pushed you against the walls of the practice room just for a little make out session

ahhh here we go ladies and gents

sex !! with !! rocky !!

first and foremost, dance studio sex??? yes

especially if it’s just you two late night practicing like the first time you kissed?

mirror kink? maybe so

and bc y’all are ~flexible~, you bet he likes bending your back like a pretzel

he’s a very passionate lover, your pleasure is his #1 priority

loves foreplay just as much as the main event

but oof his hips?? grrrrr bark bark ram me over with a truck

his stroke game is so good

literally knows how to fuck you in all the right places

and his stamina??? god tier, can go at it for hours on end

into edging and overstimulation, oof you bet you’re cumming at least twice during every session

i cannot stress this enough!! thigh riding

you know he has thighs of steel

will make you cum just from riding his thigh

most of the time you guys start off slow and sweet, and then just boom it turns it hard sex

will definitely get turned on from doing a sexy dance routine

the amount of times he’s wanted to just fuck you in the middle of class bc you turned him on?? but ofc he has public decency he won’t do that

he knows you get turned on from his fingers oops

anal or vaginal fingering?? he’s all for it baby

he’s loud during sex, all the grunting, huffing, growling, oo im getting chills

not afraid to tell you how good you’re making him feel

not really into spanking, but he grips a lot, like his fingernails have definitely left some deep imprints in your hips or your ass

hair pulling?? yes, both sides receiving

okay but if you call him rocky during sex? big turn on

i can’t explain why, it just is

favorite position?? cowgirl

he loves when you’re on top of him

yes he likes seeing you try to fuck yourself on him

and then when he can’t take it anymore and just grabs your hips and thrusts up into you until your body literally collapses on him

he always tries to make you cum first but oops sometimes baby just busts a nut

yes you will probably tease him about it and then he’ll just shut you up by kissing you 

on another note, no way to turn rocky on faster than sucking on his bottom lip when you’re kissing

will cuddle you after cumming, like he doesn’t care if either of you are sweaty or messy, he’s hugging you for at least five minutes

honestly becomes a baby after sex so it’s more like you’re giving him after care sksksk

the switch he makes from being a sex fiend to a clingy cuddly boy? whiplash

like you need to go to the bathroom to pee or something and he’s like: but...i wanna hug u

i would risk it all for rocky yes

anyway after graduating, rocky becomes a choreographer for this really famous dance studio and get recruited to join a highly-competitive dance troupe

you both do long distance for a little bit bc obviously he’s back home but you have to travel with your group for competitions, sometimes even internationally

and so that caused some strain in your relationship bc distance sucks, but you would always make sure to call him every night before going to bed and despite any time zone difference, he would always answer

your biggest supporter !! literally flew out to surprise you during a big dance competition in london or whatever and you cried happy tears bc was he really there right now??

that’s when you knew that he was the one :’)

you spent the night w him in his hotel room and after a good couple rounds of reunion sex, you were like trying to test the waters a little bit: i missed you hyukie

rocky: i missed you too, but now that you’re here with me, nothing else matters

you: what do you really think about this long distance thing??

rocky: it sucks...but i know it made us stronger. i feel like we can get through anything now

you: yeah, i agree

rocky getting paranoid: omg why? are you thinking of living abroad?? y/n, do i need to start looking at dance studios out here??

you have to hold in your laughter bc he’s so cute: why? would you move out of the county for me if i wanted to??

rocky: i mean...if you’re thinking of leaving for good...then yeah.

he gets so shy and quiet and you’re just !! wow you love him !! he’s yours !!

you kiss him shortly and you smile: no, i’m not gonna live abroad. I miss being home and I miss seeing you all the time. I told you before, I’m thinking of leaving the troupe in two months and then gonna find a job back home for good.

he lets out a sigh of relief: you scared me a little

you just laugh: I only wanted to confirm something and hmm I was right

rocky: what did you wanna confirm??

you being a confident baddie: that I wanna be with you for the rest of my life

rocky feeling his heart implode: you mean it??

you scoffing: why would I be lying about this?

he just laughs and kisses you: I wanna be with you too...I’ve been thinking it since the last time you visited. How much I love you and how much I hated seeing you leave for who knows how long, but I didn’t wanna say anything bc you’re still living your life and I didn’t want a promise like this to influence you to come back if you didn’t want to yet.

two months later you’re back for good and move in with rocky

you end up becoming a choreographer at his dance studio too

you and rocky: the couple™

and you live happily ever after

somewhere down the line...

sanha: hey remember when you two hated each other?

eunwoo: remember when you injured y/n??

bin: remember when you freaked out to us about your first kiss together

myungjun: and you said i’LL sEe yOu iN cLaSs

jinjin: those were fun times, right hyukie?

rocky: i hate you all

__________________________________________________

2-16-21

[villainscomplex]

could cry just thinkin about you

anyway i actually started working on @asanoyaweek21 like halfway through july after i finished my camp nano word count, but then i tripped and fell back into my princess tutu pit and ,,,,,,,,,,, yeah im late already 

anyway asanoya week day one: soulmate au / the broom bc i will never get over the homoeroticism of the broom fight 

Also on: AO3

Wattpad

FFnet

Quotev

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When Nishinoya Yuu is a child, he’s a coward. 

He’s little, and there’s this ever present bundle of fear and anxiety writhing around in his chest. It means he’s scared, he concludes, and so he cries when he rides a bike for the first time, and then when he gets lost in the woods near his house, and then again when he comes across a dog bigger than he is. 

It’s strange, he begins to think, as he grows. He’s sure that feeling must be his own, but sometimes he’s suddenly, explicitly happy, and sometimes when he thinks he should be happy, he’s so painfully sad that it aches in every fiber of his being. 

When he’s eight, Yuu scrapes his leg from knee to mid-shin when he falls out of a tree. The pain is the first sensation he’s aware of, arm twisted awkwardly beneath him where it’d made a futile attempt to cushion his fall. Underneath it, concern spikes, bubbling with that familiar chill of anxiety. Yuu is too busy thinking about how much his arm and leg hurt to give it too much thought at the time. 

Yuu is eight the first time he breaks his arm, and the cast itches so much that he’s tempted to tear it off the moment it’s on. Yuu is eight when he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s car, a cast on one arm and ice cream in his other hand. He thinks the scrape down his leg is going to leave a nasty scar, but it’ll look cool and he can tell people whatever he wants about its origin. 

“You don’t seem excited about your ice cream,” his grandfather remarks with a little chuckle, lips tugging up.

Yuu huffs. “I am! I’m super excited!”

He thinks he is, at least. Yuu loves ice cream, and he always gets excited when he gets it, but that tugging little concern is still nestled deep in his chest and Yuu doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s so used to it, like second nature, but somehow it feels foreign nowadays. 

His grandpa laughs again. “I bet your soulmate is worried about you, always causing yourself trouble like this.” 

Yuu stares back at him, ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

“Your soulmate,” the man says again, “everyone’s got one. Not necessarily romantic, mind ya. You can feel their emotions. It’s a little inconvenient sometimes, but you miss it when it’s gone. You’re always hurting yourself, so your soulmate is probably worried about you.”

Yuu thinks about his grandmother. His memories of her are faint, at best. He’d barely been old enough to remember her face when she’d passed, but he remembers how strange his grandfather had acted after, like something was missing from the core of his being. Yuu thinks about the word  soulmate . There’s someone out there meant to be in his life specifically, and he’s meant to be in theirs. Yuu thinks about the little bundle of emotion in his chest, and he realizes that must be his soulmate.

He hadn’t thought to try and distinguish them until now, but it has him tracking his memories back as far back as he can, seeking that feeling in them all. Sure enough, the anxiety is ever present. Sometimes, it’s duller than others, muffled beneath other emotions, but it’s always there. 

“I think my soulmate is a scaredy-cat,” Yuu announces, and then shrieks when his cold ice cream drips onto his exposed knee. 

His grandfather laughs, and Yuu whines as he shoves the top of the cone into his mouth in a futile attempt to save the rest of it. 

When he’s a child, Nishinoya Yuu is a coward. When he’s eight, his grandfather tells him about  soulmates  , and Yuu thinks  my soulmate is scared of everything.  It keeps him up that night, staring at the ceiling in a way that feels too ancient for a boy his age, but he’s come to a conclusion. If his soulmate is a scaredy-cat, then Yuu will just have to be the brave one for the both of them. 

He tries to reach out to that little bundle of feeling with his resolve, wanting to sooth the turmoil there. It doesn’t change, but Yuu is determined. He’ll become strong enough for the both of them, and then he’ll protect his soulmate so they never have to worry again. 

“From now on,” he tells the air, sitting up and jumping off his bed, “I’m going to be the bravest person ever! Then my soulmate will never have to worry again!”

His bravery starts by yelling past his bedtime. He tells himself that he isn’t scared when his mother shouts from the other room, he’s just being respectful by listening to her and crawling back into his bed, hiding under his blanket. If his heart is pounding in his ears, then that’s a secret between him and his soulmate. 

With his new resolve, Yuu grows. He becomes bold and eccentric, loud and outspoken. He becomes a lionhearted boy, too much brilliance to fit inside a body as small as his remains. He becomes stubborn and strong-willed, never backing down from a challenge regardless of how much trouble it will get him into. Yuu embraces everything he has to offer, but he refuses to be sad. 

That ever present pit of broiling emotions is constant, nestled deep in his chest like a second heart, and he doesn’t want to make his soulmate worry ever again. 

Some days, it’s calmer than others. There’s times he nearly forgets it’s there, in the wake of some other hesitant, but excited emotion, and there’s times where it’s so strong that it wakes him even from a dead sleep. Those nights are the worst because he  knows  there’s nothing he can do as is, and his soulmate is having to suffer alone. 

He tries to encourage them as best he can, wondering if they feel his emotions as strongly as he often feels their’s. 

Yuu is in his last year of middle school when things begin to change. He’s taken to volleyball like a moth to flame. There’s something about being behind everyone like the final line of defense, the one everyone depends on to keep the ball in play; it’s thrilling, keeping his blood rushing in his veins and his heart pounding in his ears. 

He wins an award, and he’s so full of pride that he nearly misses the faint little swell of happiness that comes from that bundle of feelings in the back of his chest. Maybe his soulmate does feel his emotions just as strongly. 

The first time he meets Azumane Asahi, Yuu doesn’t think much of him. His hair is a little past his ears, curling up beneath the lobes and sticking up in the back like he’d recently been laying on it. His first impression is that Azumane looks as if he’s waiting for the entire world to come down on his shoulders. He easily dwarfs everyone, but he stands with his shoulders curled in, hands clasped complacently in front of him and gaze down, as if trying to avoid notice. 

Yuu isn’t sure why, but it pisses him off, seeing someone who looks as big and strong as Azumane looking like such a coward. 

He says as much to Azumane’s face exactly a week later.

Azumane balks. “What.” 

Yuu puts his hands on his hips. “You’re huge and super strong, but you act like a total coward. You look like a skittish dog or something!” 

“A dog…” Azumane visibly slouches lower.

Yuu would say his dejected expression is almost comical, if it hadn’t been the exact opposite of what he’d been wanting. Azumane reminds him of how he’d been when he was a child, anxiety ridden and glass hearted. 

“Okay!” Yuu announces. “We’re gonna practice together!” 

Azumane doesn’t even get out a response before Yuu is towing him back towards the court, determined to teach this boy the ways of reckless bravery and intense practice.

Yuu doesn’t know when or where he lost the plot, but somehow this becomes second nature. He finds himself seeking Azumane out in the hallway, barreling into the larger boy, or towing him behind himself from time to time. He meets Ryu and he meets Kiyoko; the former becomes his friend early on and both boys adamantly say they’re crushing on the latter.

It feels like a performance. Yuu knows Kiyoko isn’t his soulmate. She’s gentle and anxiously soft-spoken, but not in the same way that his soulmate feels like they should be. He doesn’t admit that maybe there’s this half formed idea about Azumane tucked away in the back of his mind, and everyone is better for it. 

He wants to be sure. He has to be. 

“I think I should trim my hair soon,” Asahi remarks offhandedly one day, when they’re leaving practice.

Yuu watches his fingers card through the wavy brown strands, a little contemplative frown fixed on his face. He tries to imagine Asahi with short hair like most of the others, and the image just won’t come to mind. Maybe he’s biased.

“No way, Asahi-san!” Yuu grins, reaching out to slap the other man on the back. “I think long hair suits you! It makes you look kinda wild, don’t you think? It’s cool!”

Asahi slouches into himself a little, curling a strand of hair around his finger. He hums noncommittally, allowing the strand to fall away, but he doesn’t comment on Yuu’s words. He just looks a little more thoughtful.

Yuu is only a little surprised when he really  looks  at Asahi one day and his hair is just past his shoulders. He’s got a little facial hair now, too, and something about it makes him feel more mature, older, like he’s finally growing into himself. Yuu takes a running leap onto his back the moment he sees him in practice that afternoon, and Asahi hardly sways beneath him. 

The realization settles in; this isn’t going to last forever. He won’t always be able to be with everyone like this. Asahi has grown and filled out, fitting into the broadness of his shoulders. He’s steady and unyielding, and Yuu isn’t sure when he started to become something like this. 

That pit of anxiety still lingers in his chest. It wavers, sometimes. 

They go against Date Tech. Their defeat is crushing and miserable for everyone involved, but when Asahi doesn’t call out for the last spike, Yuu feels it like an anchor in the hollow of his chest. It’s painful, near suffocating, and he can see the sheer weight of it coming down on Asahi’s shoulders. Those negative feelings swirl up into his chest again, fought only by his own fury - fury at Asahi, for not calling for the spike. 

Fury at himself, for not retrieving them. 

He hates it. 

“Why won’t you blame me?” 

Yuu feels the anger before he witnesses it. This is his confirmation, he’s sure. There’s no doubt anymore; these emotions living alongside his own are Asahi’s. The first time he feels Asahi’s anger, it feels cold, like ice in his veins. There’s something sad about it, something self-sacrificing, like Asahi wants to shoulder everything and leave nothing to be spared for the rest of them. His fury comes like a wave of ocean water, painful when it enters his lungs.

Yuu turns on his heel. Asahi stands - no, Asahi hunches - in front of him. He looks like he had when Noya had first met him, shoulders curled into himself, back bent like the world itself is coming down on it. Maybe it is, this time. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi has realized that they’re soulmates. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi would even accept it. 

Asahi doesn’t seem to be in a very accepting mood right now, and Yuu is in no mindset for motivation. 

They fight. They fight before they’re even anything, before Yuu can say anything, before he can even confess to himself that he would have been willing to leave his soulmate behind for Asahi, even if the other boy hadn’t ended up being them. He doesn’t tell Asahi how he used to be a coward. He doesn’t tell him that the reason he works so hard and never stops moving forward is because he’d made a promise to both of them a long time ago. 

He doesn’t tell Asahi that he’s terrified to lose him.

All he knows is that if Asahi’s anger is like ice, then his is like flames, raging and all-consuming. All he knows is that he’s furious, and he’s yelling, and then there’s a  snap , and suddenly everything goes cold. Asahi’s feelings drop to the pit of his stomach and become cold there, and Yuu feels like the tightrope he’s been walking has finally given way. 

Ryu holds him back, and all he can do is watch Asahi walk away. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Asahi doesn’t show up for practice the next day, and his lack of presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Yuu corners him in the hall. He feels like this is starting to become a cycle now, arguing and fighting over trivial things. It’d be easy to solve if Asahi just had a little more faith, but Yuu knows better. He knows how Asahi feels too well. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think. He bleaches his hair because he thinks it looks cool. When people tell him he’s too loud, he gets louder. He refuses to be looked down upon and spoken over. He’s been in detention more times than he can count, but it never stops him from repeated offenses. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think, but when Asahi walks away from him, it feels final. It feels like the end of something that never began. Nishinoya Yuu never cries. 

(The people in the hall that day are silent witnesses to his tears, but nobody says a thing about them.) 

Yuu isn’t much for thinking, so he spends all of his time in suspension doing, instead. He works and works and works some more, trying not to think of Asahi turning his back on them. On him. All he can do is hope Asahi will come to his senses by the time Yuu is back. 

He doesn’t. Yuu goes back, and Asahi is still gone, so he leaves again. He loves volleyball, but he won’t be a part of it if it means leaving Asahi behind. Asahi may believe that he’s unnecessary, but they all know better. 

It isn’t until he’s staring at the broad expanse of Asahi’s back again in the practice match that he really  realizes,  and for the second time, he feels like he’s really seeing Asahi. He sees someone who is trying for the people he cares about, someone who is finally learning to try for  himself  and he thinks  that’s all I wanted.  

They fix the broom together. 

“We’re soulmates,” Yuu tells him, so abruptly that Asahi’s surprised flinch dislodges the two pieces again. 

Asahi glances down. “I know.”

Yuu stares at him. “What.”

“I know,” Asahi says again, gaze soft and hesitant. “I’ve known since we met. You aren’t exactly quiet about your emotions, y’know. I never said anything because you liked Shimizu. You deserved better than someone like me.”

“Asahi-san,” Yuu intones, “you’re the  only  person I’ve ever liked.”

“What.”

“Oh my god.”

When Asahi laughs, it lights up his whole face. Yuu stares for a long moment, watching Asahi’s shoulders tremble. He feels Asahi’s relief wash over him like a second skin, settling into his bones themselves. The warmth of his joy is like a blanket. 

“Well,” Asahi says, “I guess we’re both a little dumb then, huh?”

“To be fair,” Yuu huffs, “I didn’t realize till after the Date Tech match.” 

Asahi laughs again, and Yuu thinks that everything is going to be okay after all. Asahi is finally starting to have some sort of belief in himself, and while Yuu knows his doubt and anxiety won’t go away overnight, they’re taking baby steps. 

And if Ryu and Daichi give Suga and Kiyoko ten dollars each when they admit their newest revelation, then nobody is any the wiser. 

[morbidly-malicious-muffins]

Hello! I hope im not bothering you How are you doing? I absolutely adore lester because he's just so cute! May I get some fluff with him and a female S/O who likes to collect animal bones, is a child in heart and generally doesn't mind getting dirty? Thank you so much!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Heyyy! No of course you're not bothering me, kind human! 💓 Here is your request! Im gonna make this an x reader bc 😗😗

And yes I love Lester too 🥺 He's a smol dirty bean who deserves to be cherished and taken good care of 😭

Lester Sinclair x Fem!Reader

(lets all appreciate Lester posing like the supermodel he is.)

(he's so much more photogenic than I'll ever be *heart eyes*)

You guys first met at Lester's roadkill pit.

He saw you waist-deep in the bloody ditch, digging through the swamp of animal carcass, fishing out the dead animals you liked while humming a country tune.

You looked to his direction in alarm when you heard his truck pull up, and then splat into the pit.

Oh yeah did I mention that Lester was so distracted by the sight of a pretty girl in his roadkill pit, he sunk a wheel into the ditch when parking. (boy still can't park for shit smh)

You heard a distant "ah bastard." as he came out of his truck, anxiously walking around his vehicle and assesing the situation.

Tucking the carcasses you collected into your bag of goodies, you called out to him.

"Ya need some help there?"

Long story short, you end up helping him push his truck up the slope, and in repayment, he offers you a ride back to where you live, which you gladly accept.

You marveled at the decor in his truck, asking him about every piece. Lester wasn't used to someone acting so positively toward the interior design of his beloved truck, but he really appreciates it. He answers all your questions, and you end up getting along really well.

You talked about your shared interest of collecting bones and natural exploration, hence your appearance at his roadkill pit, and cracking the dumbest jokes and giggling like little kids over them in the process.

You were like, in love upon first meeting. Its practically a soulmate AU but irl.

Lester asked you out on a date then and there, despite his nerves. When you said yes, he knew you were the one. Just like that.

Bo would poke fun of him for being so invigorated by his "teensy weensy datesy", while Vincent is happy for him.

*cue fond pat on the back from Vinny*

The date was just gonna be a nice walk in the woods and then dinner, but you tripped and slipped in a puddle, and Lester gasps and starts laughing after he sees that you're fine.

You gave Lester's shirt a firm tug, making him face plant into the mud puddle as well.

It then was you turn to laugh your head off, snorting and screeching. Lester thought it was the cutest thing ever.

*Lester dreamily looking at you, as if in a trance, until--*

SPLAT!

You just! Threw mud in his face!

*Sudden bark of laughter from you*

Oh it is so on.

Shortly after, a full-on mud fight broke out between you two.

And boy, he does not go easy. Neither of you did.

That, of course, ended with you both covered in mud head to toe, running back to Lester's hut in a hurry because it started raining heaviliy.

You arrived at Lester's house, a giggling mess drenched in mud, water and sweat, trodding dirt and leaves all over the hut.

General HCs:

You share and trade cool bones you find.

Nerding over different types of animal skull is a must. Argue over which type of badger it is.

"Its obviously a juvenile!"

"No Lester! Its another species, look at that spot next to the cranium--"

Eating cake for breakfast because you both want to.

Cuddling in bed because he's a cuddlebug.

Rough housing. Playfully wrestling, shoving, tripping.

Being smelly together and being given a disapproving eye by Mister Vincent-Germophobe-Sinclair.

Smelling each other and telling the other to shower, faking a gag. (Hypocrites smh)

Collecting roadkill together and fishing for cool bones in the process.

"LESTER LESTER OHMYGOD YOU HAVE TO COME HERE NOW AND SEE THIS!"

*Amazed and excited squawking from both of you*

"HOLY-- ITS A COYOTE! LOOK AT THE VERTIBRAE MAKE SURE--"

"LOOK AT THEM HUGE CANINES THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER--"

"AHAHAAAA HAHAHAH"

You probably end up getting married without the actual documents. Its fineeee it counts.

Here it is! Sorry it took soooo long. I've been real busy lately :/

I had a lot of fun writing this, this idea is so adorable😭 thanks for the request ❤️

Y'all know how it goes, have a great week for me will ya? ;)

---Zali 🖤

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon, sorry its been like 2 days since I last submitted something! I've been busy and whenever I finally had time to sit down and write this all its like 1 in the morning. I hope its still ok for me to send these.

🌹 anon ima respond to you first, your The Deal au could be the reason why and how Ranboos and Dreams soul got mixed and linked together. But then a problem is how did it pass to Ranbob? In my au, each person has their own soul basically. And while certain attributes like DNA can be passed through bloodlines, souls can't, as their unique to their person. 

What left Ranbob vulnerable to Dream is that he was seen as the star student. The apprentice everyone wanted. He always got perfect grades and was seen as the smartest in the City. This did not go well. As Ranbob was put under a ton of pressure to always stay perfect and get everything right. When his grades started to slip and his chosen mentor started to put even more work on him, his mentality started to suffer. With him losing sleep and starting to not care for himself or do the basic necessities like eating or drinking, all in an effort to be "perfect". Its through this need, and weakened state over all, Dream's presence was able to slip in and convince him to let him help.

Benjamin is 30, Isaac 29, Cletus is 24, and Charles is 27. 

When Ranbob first told Ran about the Dream mask and how he wasnt himself, Ran did not believe him at all. And kept saying that he needs to stop lying and fess up to what he did and pay for it. Others tried to convince him that his brother really wasn't in control of himself, but was met with strong skepticism, scoffs, and disbelief. With Ran not beliving that was the truth at all.

Watson was very shocked but quickly reorganized himself cause he had to calm Jackie, and its only after Jackie fell asleep he was like "Oh fuck. I really am the dad huh?" Jackie was embarrassed at first but after some prodding did say how he truly saw Watson as a dad figure in his life. And everyone had different reactions to Watson suddenly accepting and fitting into the dad role. Jackie was excited and immediately started calling him dad and asking him awkward dad questions "Dad whats puberty?" "Uhhh-" "Dad where do babies come from?" "Ask your dad about that!" "But you are my dad!" Ran seemed indifferent about it but Watson can tell he's revealed to have someone to talk too, and someone to go to if things get to much. Grievous keeps sating he doesn't need a dad but he's the one that goes to Watson the most for things like hugs, comfort, and advice. 

Jackie and Grievous do everything. They rig the battle field so if someone steps in a certain area water will shoot up into their face, Grievous usually taunts and distracts opponents so Jackie can sneak up behind them and just latch onto them and cover their eyes while giggling like a madman as the opponent screams and runs around trying to get him off. Jackie regularly pulls peoples seat out from under them, while Grievous scares them and makes them choke or drop something. But they do know peoples limits. Like for Ran, no water related pranks (there was an incident where Grievous spilled a whole bucket of water on him and Ran got severe burns and had to stay in the hospital ward for a few days), for Watson don't mess with his bow or arrows, he will stab you. And for eachother, Jackie, no pranks that leave him alone for extended periods of time or makes it seems like everyone is gone/left. For Grievous no pranks centered around food or drinks (like putting toothpaste in his sandwich or putting pepper in his beer). 

Ran and Jackie have a 50/50 win if that makes sense. They both win and lose pretty often. They play games like Spoons, Go Fish, Dart Throwing (Watson needs to be present for this one), something similar to Cards Against Humanity, Poker (everyone plays during this one), and Tic Tac Toe. 

Sometimes Jackie loves being the smallest and other times hates it. He hates it when Ran steals something of his and holds it above his head, he sometimes resorts to aggressively climbing Ran to get it but Ran tends to just pluck him off, and people make fun of him in a mean natured way (he's fine with light teasing). But he loves it when he rides Ran's shoulders or can duck under peoples legs and trip em. Because he's also small and fast he's hard to catch and that definitely comes in handy during fights. No ones particularly protective of eachother (excluding Ran who's protective of everyone), because they know none of them like being babied and they can all hold their own, though they will quickly flock to help eachother if they need it. Ran definitely flaunts it whenever their in a agurement. 

There is a area under the fighting arena of the pit where they stay. Theres separate rooms for everyone, training areas, dinning areas, and just chilling areas. Theres even extra rooms meant for often visiting friends (Like Genevieve) and some for storage of weapons which also holds things to sharpen them or get new ones. The Pit itself is in the middle of a gaint city, so there are tons of stores and food areas around. And because of a high salary the King gives them they go out quite often, often eating out and browsing stores when their not training or sleeping. 

If by other combinations you mean like Ran-Jackie, Ran-Grievous, Watson-Jackie, and Watson-Grievous then it highly varies. Watson and Jackie are by far the worst team, their styles just don't match and constantly but heads during battles. Watson and Grievous are probably the best out of the 4 teams because Grievous can be serious and works well with Watson as he's much more willing to change his fighting style to accommodate whats needed. Ran and Jackie are like Jackie and Grievous, but they aren't nearly as insane. Rather Ran provides distractions while fighting to give Jackie time to sneak up behind them. Ran also is the only one able to actually throw Jackie, which they sometimes do during battles. And Ran and Grievous work well together, but not as much as Watson and Grievous, its just a few things of both their styles don't match or could potentially cause problems.

He's clumsy flat out, he isn't used to having full control and needs to get used to certain things like walking or talking again. He is also severely dehydrated and malnutritished because Dream didn't care enough to drink or eat. He's also incredibly skittish and scared easily. He and Cletus's relationship isn't solved fast at all, it takes months and the work of everyone to get the two comfortable around eachother. They start by putting Cletus on watching duty, where he watches over Ranbob to make sure he's eating and drinking and resting while not tiring himself out. Then after a month or 2 Isaac, Benjamin, and Charles start purposely leaving the two in a room alone toghere to get them to talk stuff out. It takes 3 months until their comfortable enough with eachother to willingly talk and hang out. Oh the house building attempts went aboustely awful. They sometimes fell on Ranbob! And when they didn't they just collapsed or got blown away by the wind, but Isaac did ofter help a few times and showed him multiple different ways to make sure the walls stay up and keep the cold out. 

Ran is very unhappy with Ranbobs haunting, he thinks their kind of like Ranbob in which they've all killed people and considers them a threat at first, but when he sees how his haunting likes and interacts with Ranbob's, he losens up a bit, his group trusts them, so he has to trust them a little bit. But he doesn't trust them or like them nearly as much as he trusts and likes his haunting. 

Im guessing you mean who from the two groups get along the easiest. Most of them take a while to get to know eachother, like a few hours. But after that their all really close. Charles and Jackie, Cletus and Grievous, and Benjamin, Isaac, and Watson are the groups that get along really well really fast. 

Im honestly probably am going to go for them adventuring outside the City to try to get the brothers to get along again. Mostly cause I thought of the idea that what if Watson, Jackie, and Grievous all lie to Ran, and while they are actually going on an adventure, they lie to him that his brother and his group isn't coming. Then when its much to late for Ran to back out, Watson just goes "Oh yeah! Your brother and his group are traveling with us. And you can't do anything about it." And Ran just sits there shocked. 

Ran and Ranbob are both subtle protective of their group. With Ranbob never really getting aggressive or going into overbearing. But for Ran, if someone in his group is injured badly enough or if there's a big enough threat he does get overbearing and extremely aggressive towards whatever/whoever the threat is *cough cough Ranbob cough*. Ranbob tends to be very physical, listening more to a certain instincts that tell him to constantly have a view on or hold his family, as if he doesnt see or touch them for a long time he gets very anxious and panicky, thinking his family is dead and that he's all alone again. His group understands this and so tends to not stray to far away from Ranbob. He will also follow his group like a lost puppy at times. Ran while listens more to the instinct that tells him at random times to make sure his family is ok and to bond with them. The bonding leads to him randomly grabbing them and just sitting down with them, most likely playing games. While the random urge to check on them has led to him waking them up during the middle of the night or interrupting his own conversation or others conversations just to ask if their ok. His took a while to understand why he does it, but now if he wakes them up or drags them somewhere, they know to go along with it and comfort him during those times. 

Hybrids are rare! Especially aggressive or netural type mobs like Ran, Ranbob, and Porkius are. Their actually seen as monsters and are chased out or hunted in other city's because people aren't accepting of them. Theres very few city's like Subbin that fully welcome and are even led by hybrids. So there are more hybrids in Subbin, than there is anywhere else. 

Sorry this is so long ':)

Asks are always welcome here, and don’t worry about taking a bit or anything. The questions aren’t going anywhere, there’s plenty of time. 

Here’s that for you,🌹anon.

--------------------

1: Wow, Ranbob’s really going through it, huh? Does he ever start to fall back on that need to be ‘perfect’ while with the others? If so, how do they deal with that? And how is he with others offering to help him? If he even can really recall falling under Dream’s thrall, by accepting such an offer, how does he react to others doing the same, even if their intentions are far different?

2: So we’ve settled all the ages down, nice. You figure out anything for their backstory yet? And how do their ages affect their relationships with one another? Does Benjamin take the lead a lot? Or is he more of a follower that still has a lot of say? Who met who first?

3: So Ran’s obviously going to be awhile before he believes what went down. Still, I can’t imagine he’d have been as willing to go along with his hauntings little roadtrip plan if he wasn’t swayed at least a bit, since I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have put his foot down if he truly though Ranbob had done what he did. Why exactly does he go along with it? Does some small part of him want to give his brother a chance? Is he just confident he can overpower him, and looking for an opportunity to settle the score? Does he see something that makes him hope a bit? What’s going down there, anon?

4: On one hand, very adorable. One the other hand, poor Watson. Does Jackie actually not know that stuff, or does he do that just to mess with his new father figure? It seems like they all take to it pretty well overall though.

5: I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Two people to truly fear. How many people straight up forfeit when faced with this combination? It seems like they’ve had some interesting times, good and bad. How’d those play out? As for those last two, I’m sensing a bit of a backstory. Why does Grievous not like stuff being put into his food? And why’s Jackie not good with being left?

6: So it’s fifty/fifty, huh? Who wins the most at what games? And uh, Watson has to be present for Dart Throwing. What happened there? How’s everyone’s poker faces? Who’s got the best luck in games of chance?

7: A love/hate relationship with height. I feel ya, Jackie. Very funny to imagine though, Jackie just, physically climbing up Ran. How tall even is this guy?? How do they deal with meaner teasing, not just from the gladiators, but from general bullies? Not everybody’s as friendly as some of the Pit fighters, after all. And how do the fishermen react with their fighting skills? Obviously, they must know how to fight somewhat, to have entered the Pit, but the gladiators do this for a living. How much is the difference in skill level? And does the gang ever get to show off just how skilled they are? 

8: Their home sounds very nice, honestly, I wished I could live there, minus the people. What’s everyone’s rooms look like? How have they personalized them? Which brings up another question-what kind of interests and hobbies do they have? What kind of things do they do that aren’t fighting and related to such? And they must be pretty well known, to have such high pay. Any of them have an arena title, or some sort of stage name? How many people can recognize the city’s top gladiators on sight? And how do they get around that, when they don’t want to be seen? How do people feel about them in general?

9: All these team ups sound terrifying, and I wouldn’t want to be facing them. How do they deal with it when they get a bad match up? Do they just stay out of each other’s way? Try to take their opponents out quick? Make it one on one? Ran and Jackie have to be my favorite team up, solely for the fact that you’ve said Ran straight up throws him. Like?? Imagine coming to the King’s Pit, a well known, popular place, hoping to prove yourself, and then getting taking out by a flying midget, just tossed at you by a ridiculously tall endermen hybrid. How would you feel?? 

10: Ranbob is just really going through the ringer here. How many times does he just drop stuff, or trip over his feet? Does he ever get better, or does he still retain a clumsy streak? If so, how does Ran react to that? It’s very good he and Cletus bond! Are they just as close as the others, or is there still a bit of distance? How often does Ranbob forget to eat or drink, or really just take a break? How long does it take to get him to start remembering to do that stuff again? 

Does he ever slip up while with the gladiators? Also, in a room? Do the fisherman expand their house more, or do they just leave them in the house? Does Ranbob ever get his own house up? If so, does he use it at all, or is it more for storage? And how many times did he fall asleep out there, get injured, or not realize it was about to rain? How long did it take before Benjamin or Charles put their foot down and make him stay in for a bit?

Has Ranbob ever even dealt with rain before, or a storm above water? If not, how’d he react to it? 

11: Oh, boy, Ran. Your concerns are understandable, but definitely going to lead to some angst. Is he just on edge the whole time? How many times does he just glare at them, or straight up steal one of his haunting back a few feet away from Ranbob’s? Are the fishermen ever worried he might hurt them?

12: How do both hybrids deal with their groups bonding? I imagine Ranbob’s pretty happy with it, but how about Ran? As you said, he doesn’t seem to be the biggest fan of these guys. 

13: Roadtrip! Gotta love a roadtrip! What kind of places do they head? Any transportation, or is it just walking, enjoying nature? Do they go on an adventure to look for something cool? What’re they getting up to?

14: So Ran and Ranbob both act on their instincts in different ways. How do they feel about seeing how the other acts? What happens if any of the fishermen stray too far, or get separated from Ranbob? Same question to Ran. Ran just...like...picks up members of his haunting? Do people just see him walk around with them dangling in his arms? He must be pretty strong. How often does he do this? How else do their instincts lead to them acting? Cuddle piles, picking up blocks, keeping their groups close together, ect?

15: So Subbin’s pretty much a safe space for hybrids? Interesting. But since the groups are heading out, does this mean they run into some trouble outside of the city? And is there ever trouble within it? 

Other questions: Does Karl play any further part in this, or has he already played his role for good? Does the gang ever end up back at Mizu? Do any of the group have a pet or something similar? With there be any sort of connection to other Tales, even if only slightly, or will they be solely focused on these two? Does Ranbob pick up his studies of Ranboo as best he can once he’s free, or does he leave it all behind entirely?

Thanks for the ask, this AU’s become quite interesting. I can’t wait to see where it goes!

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

[janellion]

HAPPPYYY BOKAY THURSDAYYYYYY!!!!!!!! *que air horns* Anyways would you like to write some 80’s AU Bokay head cannons?? Like how you first met??

TYSM FOR THE ASK BB!! i’m sorry it took so long for me to get to it! this ended up being,, WAY longer than i anticipated? i just went off on one idea so this is less general hcs and kinda how we met and got together! also i made a moodboard for no reason? 

OK SO this is a college/uni bokay late 80s/early 90s au!!

bo is there on a sports scholarship (likely american football or maybe rugby) and also part of one of the frats on campus!!

so he’s not trying as hard as he could be on the academics side

THIS ISNT BC HES NOT SMART

i know a lot of ppl don’t see bo as smart BUT HE IS

he’s just focusing on other things and using his smarts to plan the best parties that campus has ever seen

so as a result of his scholarship, he has to keep his grades up

unfortunately, he’s slipping in a couple of his classes and gets told he needs to find a tutor and that’s where i come in!!

i work at the academic success center (i actually did do this in college!) and so he’s one of the students that i get assigned to work w

our tutoring sessions consist of a lot of him semi flirting but also blushing?

he’s embarrassed bc he’s here to get help even tho he could have done the work he’s just kinda lazy and gets distracted when there’s a million other things on his plate

like practice and workouts and training and the ton of frat events he attends

so the flirting is a lot of “you look different today, did you get a haircut or something?” “actually i slept like 3 hours thanks for noticing” and then awkward silences

bc im over here thinking ‘WHAT THE FUCK THIS GUY IS SO HOT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FOCUS ON SPANISH LITERATURE WHEN HE LOOKS LIKE THAT AHHHH’

at least at first?? but then he does all this cute stuff during tutoring sessions like chewing on the end of his pencil or doodling little notes in the margins of his books, or using cute photos of his family back home as a bookmark

and then it goes from just appreciating him as eye candy to ‘well shit i kinda wanna love him forever’

we go on with tutoring for a while, but eventually bo’s grades pick up and he doesn’t need the appointments anymore

both of us are a little too shy and awkward to say anything on the last session so we both go home at the end just kicking ourselves for not asking for a phone number or to meet up or anything

we don’t see each other for a while

or at least bo doesn’t see me for a while

i go to all of his home games and cheer him on but he doesn’t know bc i like to sit at the top and leave before the crowd heads out

but he’s always searching the crowd at games, trying to see if i’m there, and feeling a pit in his stomach whenever he sweeps the crowd and doesn’t immediately see me

one night some months later, after the season has ended, i’m waking back to my dorm through greek row bc i’m a slut for architecture and none other than bo is walking out of one of the large building wearing a toga, a crown of poorly painted gold leaves around his head, his face flushed, and a huge grin on his face

i stop in my tracks momentarily at the sight, wondering if i’ve actually passed out in the library and am dreaming

but then bo’s voice calling my name is ringing through the sounds of the party drifting through the open doorway behind him and he’s bounding over, the grin on his face growing

as he gets closer, i see the flush in his face and the slight stumble in his step and brace myself for impact as he crashes into me for a hug, his arms wrapping around my waist and lifting me up

���uh bo???” i’m blushing and trying to free myself from his grip ok i’m not trying that hard WHO WOULDNT WANNA BE IN HIS ARMS

but he’s just grinning and laughing before setting me down and grabbing my hand, pulling me into the brightly lit doorway and up the stairs of the house

“i’ve been kicking myself for not asking you out ages ago so let’s go out now!! we could get burgers or just walk around the city or get ice cream or go skinny dipping or —“ he cuts himself off, looking back at me with wide eyes as his smile drops for a moment while he lets go of my hand

“oh my god i mean if you want to of course i’m so sorry this probably seems so creepy and pushy —“ he babbles on, his facial expression now one of panic instead of excitement

i just laugh, still kind of thinking that i’m dreaming, and reassure him with a squeeze of his hand and a small smile, “bo no that all sounds amazing, i’d love to. i was hoping we’d run into each other too”

at this, his grin returns to his face as he continues bounding up the stairs and down a hall, before pulling me into a bedroom

“aren’t we moving kinda fast?” i tease him as i look around the incredibly chaotic room

bo turns around with a shocked look on his face before it melts into a grin and a hearty laugh as he sees the teasing look on my face

“i’m just getting changed! can’t go out on the town in a toga,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks to the closer. “don’t look,” he turns around and waffles his eyebrows at me with a grin, before pulling out a shirt and some jeans

as he gets changed, i turn around and look around the the room, not failing to notice the sticky notes littering his desk, little messages and reminders that i’d written for him during our tutoring sessions

i feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see bo, eyes excited and face still slightly flushed, but now fully dressed

he sees me eyeing the sticky notes on his desk and blushes even more, a hand going to rub at his neck before he’s laughing and grabbing one, looking at it affectionately before sticking it back down

“they help me stay focused, you know? remind me that i should be working hard. you really helped me a lot”

before i can respond, he’s grabbing my hand and pulling me down the stairs, out the door, and into the fresh night air

we walk around the city, getting to know each other better over burgers before getting ice cream and MAYBE SKINNY DIPPING IDK 👀

at the end of the night, we head back to my dorm, deciding to watch a movie and since “it’s close enough, and we might as well stay up to watch the sunrise” 

we end up putting on a movie, something fun and light like hercules, and cuddle up on the couch, falling asleep just before the sun rises 

+++

THE WAY I COULD HAVE KEPT WRITING I-- IM SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG AHHH

tysm for requesting this bb!! i rly didn’t think i’d be able to write much bc i don’t rly “get” decades aus? i think it’s bc there aren’t many POC in media from the 80s and 90s and so it’s hard to picture for me! but N E WAYS, this was my best attempt!! it was a lot of fun to write once i got into the mindset!! and thank yall for reading if you got this far?? I LOVE YOU 

🌻 bokay taglist (also my faves): @deadontheinsidebut @stcrryskies @sstardusty @zoni @kuronekomama @anianimol @the-kool-aid-man-is-real @nekoma-hoe @sugacookiies @churochuu @shoyosun @achoohq @miel-meraki @dearest-kiyoomi and i’m tagging @strawberriimilkshake @yamagucciii bc i think y’all might like to see this as well?

[fletchphoenix]

Written In The Stars

YERRR! WE BACK! Im so excited to be able to start writing again after so long!! I missed this so much!! I hope you guys like this - I didn’t want to immediately go back to the high school AU as I want it to be perfect so sorry if there aren’t any chapters of that for a few days but here! 

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  How had he gotten himself into this mess?

  That’s all that came to Hugo’s mind as he sat up in his tent, moonlight shining through the green fabric, barely keeping him warm against the night air that sent a chill down his spine. He’d been awake for a few hours now, his glasses slipping down his nose and his hair out of its ponytail in a bob around his shoulders with a sleeping form in the sleeping bag beside him. He spared it a glance, smiling to himself at the sight of his boyfriend’s face before the bitter memory of what he had to do came back to his mind. Hugo looked away and shuffled out of the tent as quietly as he could, grabbing and swinging his jacket on before he began walking.

  Nuru and Yong must’ve gone to sleep a while ago now - soft snoring coming from the crimson tent adjacent to his and the purple one opposite it. Varian’s teal tent had been pitched, though the man in question had opted to sneak into Hugo’s for the night as he usually did. Not that Hugo was complaining about their nightly ritual. Well, he was. He was going to have to leave this all behind soon along with all his friends and Varian. 

  The one thing Donella told him was ‘Don’t get attached’. Don’t get attached because it will hurt you to inevitably leave them all. Don’t get attached even though the young boy with the love for firecrackers and an energetic personality made every day even more interesting. Don’t get attached even though the most noble, most sarcastic princess who feels like a sister to you will be beside you every single day. Don’t get attached even though the alchemist with the startling blue eyes and wide, beautiful smile that makes your knees feel weak every time he shoots it in your direction will make you fall in love with him.

  Needless to say, Hugo got attached.

  Soaked grass and earth sagged underneath his boots as mud stained the heels while he walked away from the makeshift campsite they’d set up not even two hours ago. Yong had kept insisting his legs ached and he simply ‘couldn’t go on’ from his place on Hugo’s shoulders, the blonde glancing at his boyfriend who sighed and exclaimed they should set up camp now, anyway. Ah Varian, always the secretly kind-hearted one - setting up Yong’s tent for him and starting a campfire for them before taking a place beside Hugo as they silently intertwined their fingers out of view from Nuru and Yong. 

  They hadn’t told Nuru or Yong about their relationship yet for fear that it would ruin the team dynamic or make things awkward between everyone. They all worked like a well oiled machine - so introducing how close him and Varian had gotten had the potential to mess everything up. A branch snapped under his heel as he kept walking through the campsite and down to the river nearby, praying to himself that no one followed. He didn’t want some lecture from Nuru about how he shouldn’t leave camp in the night, or Varian to worry and fuss over him with his relentless interrogation on what was wrong. He was fine. Well, he wasn’t fine but he couldn’t exactly tell his boyfriend that, now could he?

  His footsteps finally relented as he took a seat on a smooth surfaced rock, his boots now sitting discarded beside it as his feet dangled in the chilled water, creating ripples over its moonlit surface. Rushing water from further downstream was the only sound in the silent atmosphere, stars glittering in the sky above him as his eyes glanced up to examine them. Nuru had taught them about the constellations one night, showing off her extensive knowledge on the subject as the boys lay back in the grass and stared in wonder. It was moments like those where he felt the familiar feeling of guilt settle in his stomach and create a pit there, the weight of Yong’s sleeping head on his chest and the warmth of Varian’s hand in his accompanied by the sound of Nuru’s voice...he was going to miss it all.

  “Don’t get attached.” It kept replaying in his head as he recalled so many soon-to-be painful memories in the calmness of the night around him, a breeze pushing the strands of hair around his ears and trailing it off the back of his neck. He knew he shouldn’t have and he really did regret it - especially Varian. He was just going to hurt him, and why? All because he was selfish and a monster. But he couldn’t just leave Donella.

  Could he?   I mean, it was entirely possible that he could in fact, leave Donella’s ranks and join Varian and his little rag-tag gang. By the sounds of it, Corona was VERY welcoming to ex-convicts considering the princess’ fiance was an ex-wanted thief, Varian had two counts of treason and attempted murder to his name and not to mention the infamous Cassandra who literally stole one of the celestial stones and briefly took over the kingdom. Surely they’d accept someone like him. The worst he’d committed was petty theft, so that was NOTHING compared to the crimes of his boyfriend. Heh. HIS boyfriend. A warmth began to form in his stomach, before being crushed by his guilt creeping back in. No. Varian would never forgive him for what he was going to do. Ever. He was a monster.

  Once Varian had asked him if he believed in soulmates as they began to settle down for bed. At the time, he wasn’t sure what he meant - soulmates? As in..people destined to find each other? Didn’t seem scientifically possible to him, but now the possibility was creeping into his mind more and more with every day he spent with the boy. He liked the thought of it - being destined to be with Varian for all of eternity, as though they were meant to be together. The thought, in all honesty, made him feel slightly bubbly on the inside, but he knew deep down Varian deserved better. He deserved someone kind, caring...someone who wasn’t about to betray him and leave him behind as if he didn’t matter. 

  As if on cue, warm hands settled on his shoulders and pulled him out of his thought process, his head tilting back to meet the azure eyes of Varian. The azure eyes that were almost hidden underneath his mass of bedhead the other had presumably just given up with trying to tame at this point. He couldn’t help but give a little chuckle at the sight and shuffle slightly to the side. “Nice hair, goggles. Though, I have to say it’s very unique.” He remarked and yes, he did deserve the punch delivered to his side as the raven haired boy slipped to sit beside him and a mass of uncontrollable chuckles left his lips.

  “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Hugh.” Varian stated, rolling his eyes before pecking his cheek and causing his laughter to cease, “care to tell me what a handsome guy like you is doing all the way out here in the middle of the night?” Varian questioned, his eyes staring into Hugo’s and Hugo could swear that they were burning right through him, making him feel slightly nauseous. 

  “Mmm, yeah I’m fine. Just, y’know, relaxing. The tent got far too stuffy with my abnormally warm boyfriend by my side in my sleeping bag, so thought I’d come get a break.” he lied through his teeth, silently begging to whatever higher power existed that Varian couldn’t tell he was lying to him. Luckily, Varian seemed to take this answer as the truth and cuddled into his boyfriend’s side as Hugo moved an arm around his shoulders to bring him closer. Varian always was the cuddly one. 

  “Okay, but I kinda wanna go back to sleep. You sure there’s nothing wrong, sweetheart?” Goggles asked again, moving away after a few minutes to tuck Hugo’s hair behind his ear with gentle fingers and slow movements. Ah, ever the considerate and caring one. Too bad that would be his downfall. Hugo nodded, cupping his boyfriend’s cheek and leaning in to place a kiss against the other’s lips before rising to his feet. “Nice.” Varian replied, keeping their fingers linked as he began to guide Hugo back to their tent.

  Hugo’s eyes stayed focused on the back of Varian’s head before his eyes slowly drifted to look at the sky once again, the moon hanging with the stars framing and decorating it. He swore he could see the constellations in Varian’s eyes, their beauty completely underwhelming compared to the boy who pulled him along to rest once again. A ghost of a smile built on his lips at the sight of his boots in Varian’s other hands - at least he remembered that he brought them. He bit the inside of his cheek - he still had a few months with the gang left. 

  So for now, he pushed away his guilt as Varian pushed him back into the sleeping bag and rested his head on his chest as he slowly fell asleep. For now, he let himself rest with the memory of his deal with Donella far far away from him. For now, he let himself be with his boyfriend with no one else but them mattering to him in the world as he placed kisses to his boyfriend’s temple as he slowly drifted to sleep.