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highvern · 7 months ago

Text

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

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#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #🫡 highvern

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theostrophywife · 5 months ago

Text

curiosity killed the cat.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: late night talking by harry styles.

author's note: i've been in such a writing rut lately, but sweet baby boy reggie is singlehandedly bringing me out of it. this idea has been floating in my mind for a while so I hope you all enjoy it. <3

Curiosity killed the cat.

The irony of the phrase wasn’t entirely lost on Regulus as he cautiously peered through the bustling kitchen. The elves were cleaning up after supper, humming and working diligently to keep the castle in order behind the scenes. Some of them leaned down to reach for him with soapy fingers, but he narrowly avoided each attempt, baring his teeth in warning.

They would not deter him from his true mission to infiltrate the basement. Having explored all the nooks and crannies Hogwarts had to offer, the Hufflepuff common room was his Atlantis—the last unexplored territory that he had yet to set foot in.

In his current state, it was perhaps more accurate to say that Regulus had never set paw in this corner of the castle. Most of the time, he found his spontaneous transformations terribly inconvenient, but as Regulus slipped past the door without a trace, the youngest Black brother was suddenly grateful for his complete lack of mastery over his Animagus form.

To be fair, he was only trying to find some peace and quiet. As of late, Regulus had become particularly fond of the kitchens. It was always warm down here and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the ovens and beckoned him towards its glorious scent like a beacon. Not to mention the fact that the elves often left a bowl of cold milk for him every night.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t exactly for him. At least, not his true human form. The elves were not fond of Regulus the person, but they did adore the feral black cat that haunted the halls of Hogwarts.

Potato, potato.

The point is, that his benevolent caretakers were typically careful about securing the ever mysterious door at the end of his little haven. Lest he get his wily little paws all over those timid badgers. Much to his delight, the security measure was not in place tonight. The door was wide open, presenting Regulus with an offer that was simply too good to pass up.

With a shimmy, he slinked behind enemy lines. Despite being located in the lower levels of the castle like the dungeons were, the Hufflepuff common room was far more welcoming. Instead of gothic furnishings and depressing color palettes, Regulus was greeted with warm earth tones and mismatched furniture. Plants of all shapes and sizes littered the room, which were far more pleasant to look upon than the haughty portraits that lined his own common room. At least the mimbulus in the corner didn’t sputter out rather unnecessary comments about the length of his curls every time he entered the dungeons.

The Hufflepuffs seemed averse to the menacing lighting that his fellow serpents seemed so fond of, choosing instead to illuminate their space with enchanted sun lamps. It was charming and cozy, if one were to take notice of such things. Malfoy would have deemed it greenhouse chic with a sneer that conveyed aristocratic distaste. For that reason alone, Regulus decided he liked the place.

The growing fondness was solidified as he followed the intoxicating scent of banana nut muffins. The trail led him to a dorm tucked away into the heart of the basement. Luckily for Regulus, the door was slightly ajar, which was more than enough permission for him to venture inside and make himself comfortable. It was the standard issue room—two beds, two desks, and two dressers. Yet the right side drew his attention.

The top of the nightstand was brimming with books, all stacked in no particular order. The color scheme of the blankets and pillows consisted of golds, pinks, and oranges, reminding Regulus of the sunset. Fairy lights and enchanted plants provided a lived in feel, which was more than he could say for his obsessively neat dorm with its alphabetically arranged library and utilitarian furniture. Everything in his room was designed with practicality instead of comfort in mind. A choice he was rather proud of until the stark contrast made his space feel cold and rigid in comparison.

The reading nook nestled beside the hearth drew him in like a moth to a flame. Regulus inspected the cloud chair, stomping on the soft woven blanket and plush pillows with his paw before coming to the conclusion that it was as good a place as any to burrow.

This was the life, he said. Or purred, if he was being technical.

As Regulus enjoyed the comforts of his newfound paradise, he failed to consider the fact that this dorm belonged to someone and that someone would likely be back any second to reclaim their refuge, given the late hour. Engrossed as he was with licking his paws, Regulus startled when the door swung open. Instantly, he recognized the owner of the dorm as the shy and quiet Hufflepuff that sat beside him in Charms. Regulus lifted a paw to his furry head, feeling foolish that he had not connected the dots earlier.

No wonder the banana muffin scent drew him in. Every now and then, he caught a whiff of it in class when you quietly claimed the spot beside him. The colorful scrunchies on the dresser also sparked his memory. How many times had Regulus witnessed you twisting the hair tie around your wrist as you quietly murmured the correct answers to Professor Flitwick’s questions under your breath? It never made much sense to him that you would allow the others to blatter and stutter through topics you were clearly an expert on, but Regulus attributed that to his proximity to pompous know-it-all pricks all his life. Slytherins were known to be showoffs, but you seemed to be the complete opposite.

Perhaps that was the reason why he stayed. Well, that and the fact that he was currently too comfortable to even dream of leaving his sanctuary. Really, the decision was made for him. Regulus watched as you settled into your desk, studying diligently as your quill flew across the parchment. Every so often, you leaned back against the chair and stared at whatever problem eluded you as though intimidating the parchment would bring forth the correct answer. It was rather endearing. Dare he say, charming.

In his mind, only minutes had passed since the start of your silent companionship, but a glance at the clock said otherwise. It was nearly midnight at this rate. As Regulus grumbled about his inevitable separation from the comfy cloud couch, a group of girls spilled into the room. They briefly said hello to you before gathering at the vanity table on the left side of the room. Regulus assumed one of them was your roommate. Probably the dark haired girl chattering on about the party the Gryffindors were hosting tonight.

“Do you think Cormac will be there?” she asked hopefully.

The other girls nodded in agreement, asking questions about the older boy with misplaced enthusiasm. Regulus wrinkled his nose. McLaggen, really? Your roommate truly needed to raise her standards. He glanced over in your direction, snorting as he caught the tail end of your grimace. Clearly, you weren’t a fan either.

After the girls were satisfied with their appearances, your roommate sauntered over to your desk with a friendly smile. “Would you like to come to the party with us, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, one of the other girls rudely interrupted. “Oh no, Y/N doesn’t go to parties. She’s too shy.”

Regulus vaguely recognized the annoyingly nasally tone of the speaker. He thought her name was Brandy or Brenda. Whichever one it was, she always hung around the quidditch team batting her eyelashes and laughing in an exaggerated way that bordered on deranged. It deeply irritated Regulus.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N? Our little bookworm only prefers the company of her novels. No chance of embarrassing yourself in front of boys when they’re just words on paper.”

“That’s mean, Britt,” scolded your roommate.

Regulus very much wanted to scamper across the room and bite Britt’s ankles. He lifted his head up as you stood, mentally encouraging you to even the score by chucking a tome at that horrid girl’s head, but instead you simply smoothed down the front of your gingham dress and smiled.

“Thanks for the offer, Mina, but I think I’ll stay in tonight. You girls have fun though.”

The others were more than happy to flee the awkward tension in the room. You bid them goodbye at the door before closing it behind you. As it clicked into place, you released a sigh. Regulus tracked your movements as you swiped a book from the teetering tower on your nightstand before collapsing into bed.

“God, what’s wrong with me?” You whispered softly to yourself. “It’s Friday night. I should be going out and partying, but instead I’m wallowing alone. No wonder everyone thinks I’m just a boring bookworm.”

Regulus voiced his disagreement. Unfortunately for him, the words came out as a series of meows. He blended in amongst the blankets, his whiskers barely peeking out from a distance. Unaware of his presence, you yelped at the strange cat peering at you from the reading nook. The noise startled Regulus, causing him to launch across the room and into the bed.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You sat upright, cocking your head at him. Your fingers twitched at your side, probably itching to pet him. You restrained yourself, respecting his general aversion to humans. “If you’re here to bring me bad luck, then I’m sorry to say that I’ve got enough of that on my own already.”

In protest, Regulus attempted to headbutt your hand, but it only resulted in an unintentional nuzzle. You chuckled in amusement before carefully patting his furry head. He dodged your hand and swiped at your leg, but the padding motions quickly turned to him just making biscuits on your thigh.

You chuckled in response. “Hm, everyone says you’re a mean kitty, but I think you’re just a little misunderstood.” Regulus huffed, but his displeasure was short lived as you scratched under his chin. He was only slightly embarrassed at how eager he was to receive more. “Look at us, we make quite the pair.”

At that, Regulus purred in agreement.

From that night forward, Regulus became a frequent visitor. He hadn’t intended on making a habit of it, but every time Regulus accidentally transformed, he found himself in your dorm. It wasn’t his fault that it was warm and toasty and smelled like pastries. If you weren’t trying to attract a feral cat, you shouldn’t have made your room so inviting.

During one of his visits, your roommate walked by and yelped at the sight of him. Regulus lifted his chin up in challenge as he claimed his rightful seat on your lap. “Is that the feral cat that almost took off Cedric’s fingers?”

Regulus purred in answer. He was rather proud of that moment. Would’ve gotten away with it too had it not been for Diggory’s quick reflexes.

You barely looked up from your book as you combed through his fur. “Mhm. He likes to follow me around sometimes. He’s like my little shadow.” A bright smile curved against your lips. “Oh, I think we found you a name. Shadow.”

From then on, Regulus wore the name like a badge. The name seemed to awaken more of his animal instincts because his spontaneous transformations became a rather frequent occurrence. At the beginning, they were isolated to nights and thus easier to manage, but now his Animagus form seemed to have no respect for convenience. As of late, the transformations were happening more and more often with absolutely no rhyme or reason.

The only common denominator seemed to be you. Every time Regulus was in his Animagus form, he sought you out. Whether he was interrupting Potions class to jump in your lap or resting next to you in the courtyard while you read, Regulus was resigned to the fact that he would end up in your proximity one way or another. He basked in the attention you showered him with, shamelessly nuzzling against your hand for more chin scratches and cuddles. It became a routine for the two of you. Most nights, you read in silence as he curled against you for warmth, but other nights, your inner monologue spilled out and he listened to you grapple with your shyness and anxiety.

Funny, you didn’t seem all that reserved around him. But then again he had taken on the form of a grumpy yet harmless cat. You were none the wiser that Regulus Black was currently purring for more pets as you lamented over the events of the day. He listened intently, not quite understanding your desire to become more sociable. You seemed to view it as a deficiency, but Regulus had always leaned towards the extremities of introvertedness. Though in his case, no one batted an eye when he was abrupt and abrasive. It was just how he was.

Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were expected to be sunshine and butterflies. You were, Regulus thought. In your own quiet way, you radiated joy. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious or overbearing. It was just right. Regulus longed to tell you just as much, but it wasn’t like he was in a position to. Outside these late night talks, the two of you hardly spoke a word to one another.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

The first time Regulus tried to speak to you was a complete and utter disaster.

It was bright and early on a Monday morning. You slipped into your seat a few minutes before the start of Charms. The two of you were always the first ones in class, so he figured it was an opportune time to strike up a conversation without overwhelming you.

“How was your weekend?”

You blinked up at him, surveying the room covertly as though you weren’t quite sure that he was speaking to you. Regulus watched you flush as you realized that he was indeed addressing the question to you.

“It was good,” you responded cautiously. “How was yours?”

Regulus paused. “It was…fine.”

Never in his life had he wanted to swan dive into the Black Lake and become fodder for the merpeople. The response was a natural conversation killer, but he couldn’t very well tell you that he spent the entire weekend lounging in your dorm as you read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. That little revelation probably would’ve resulted in a restraining order.

The short and awkward dialogue made him cringe internally, but you simply smiled politely at him. For Salazar’s sake, where was the basilisk when Regulus needed it?

When lunch came around, he was still pondering the less than lackluster encounter. Regulus needed to find a way in. As his friends chattered and chatted, he stared intently across the Great Hall and watched you. Things were so much easier when you thought he was a cat.

“Reg, mate, you haven’t blinked for like five minutes. You’re really starting to freak me out.”

The annoying little quip from Nott brought Regulus out of his stupor. Had he truly been staring for that long? He hoped to Godric that you hadn’t caught him being an utter creep. A sly glance told him that you were none the wiser as you continued chatting with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. He turned to Theodore and frowned.

“What are you staring at, anyways?” asked Mattheo. The curly headed git surveyed the room for the object of his friend’s focus, which only made Regulus more irate.

“Nothing,” Regulus mumbled.

Riddle, ever the menace, grinned as he spotted you. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

He elbowed Theo, who smirked once he too caught sight of you. “Say, Reggie, don’t you have Charms with that cute little Hufflepuff?”

“Shut it, Nott.”

“Whoa, a little touchy there, aren’t we? No need to fret. I won’t turn my Italian charms on her. After all, I wouldn’t dare go after one of my mate’s crushes.”

Regulus bristled. “I do not have a crush.”

“Sure, mate, and I’m Harry bloody Potter,” scoffed Mattheo. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“Does this conversation have a purpose besides showcasing your remarkable skill of grating my nerves?”

“Aw, Reggie’s upset.” Mattheo and Theodore chuckled as Regulus stood abruptly. He flung the napkin onto his plate and walked off without explanation. “Don’t worry, mate. We won’t tell anyone about your secret girlfriend.”

Unfortunately for Regulus, the childish teasing gained traction over the next few days. Trust Nott and Riddle to be a general nuisance to his everyday life. Every time you walked past Regulus in the halls, his friends (debatable as of late) would nudge him and smirk. Given that Mattheo and Theo possessed the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, you were definitely beginning to notice.

Even worse, Lorenzo had taken it upon himself to chat you up in the courtyard. Regulus looked on in horror as his best friend laughed and gesticulated alongside you on the bench. His presence had not gone unnoticed by their fellow classmates. A crowd of Hufflepuffs began crowding near your usual spot under the willow tree and Regulus could easily spot the tell-tale signs of your anxiety blooming. He needed to put an end to this.

“Berkshire, can I talk to you for a second?”

Lorenzo appeared completely unbothered as he nodded. “Sure, just let me wrap up here. Reg, you’ve met Y/N, right? She was kind enough to lend me notes for History of Magic.”

You looked up and gave Regulus a shy wave. The desire to throttle Lorenzo diminished by a few notches. “Sorry about him. Berkshire’s a bit overeager. Not fully trained, you see.”

His friend protested the accusation. “Hey, I’m standing right here!”

Regulus ignored his protests. Lorenzo might as well have been halfway across the world with how little attention he paid to his friend. He was far too busy being enamored with the way you tried to bite back a grin.

“Thank you for indulging him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go off leash again.”

You chuckled. “It’s alright, really. I’ve got a habit of attracting strays.”

“Where is that little monster of yours, anyways? Busy clawing off some unsuspecting student’s face?” Lorenzo quipped.

“Shadow isn’t so bad. He’s actually very sweet, once you get to know him.”

Regulus tried not to grin.

Lorenzo shot him a knowing look. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Sorry again about him. I’ll make sure he returns your notes.” He tugged Lorenzo by the collar. “Now let’s go, Berkshire. We’re going to be late for practice.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lorenzo called over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Bye, Lorenzo,” you said with an amused smile. “I’ll see you in class, Regulus.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smile. “See you in class, Y/N.”

Thanks to his meddlesome friends, Regulus kept finding himself in less than ideal situations. The twats seemed determined to force you two together. Lorenzo, most of all.

Every time they studied in the library, you seemed to conveniently be seated a few desks away. Every time they were walking back from quidditch practice, you coincidentally seemed to be headed to the greenhouse. Every time Lorenzo fetched something in his locker, you just so happened to be walking by between classes.

It was during one of these times that Regulus overheard Britt making snippy little comments about your dresses and bows, commenting on how you were always lost in your books, even citing the fact that the feral cat had taken a liking to you because birds of a feather flock together. Your roommate defended you, but she was a lone voice amongst the other mindless girls who laughed along with Britt. The next time Regulus ran into her in his cat form, he made sure to hiss and claw at her.

In terms of finding his way in, Regulus had yet to crack the code. When it was just you and your Shadow, you spoke to him for hours and hours. But when he was actually himself, you were so quiet and reserved.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Lorenzo offered.

The glare Regulus cut his way was sharper than a splicing spell. “I’ve tried, but I’m terrible at it. I asked her about the weather, Enzo. The bloody weather!”

To his credit, Lorenzo didn’t laugh. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. “You’ve got to find out what she’s passionate about. What’s something that she could talk about for hours and hours?”

Regulus bolted out of his chair, startling Lorenzo. “You’re a genius, Berkshire.”

His friend looked utterly confused. “Thanks, I suppose?”

Half an hour later, Regulus found himself standing in a labyrinth. Plot Twist, the largest bookstore in the village, was as magical as you described it to be. Each aisle was filled to the brim with books, the shelves winding and twisting in on itself to reveal even more volumes. Soft classical music played throughout the shop, its interior filled with kitschy trinkets and illuminated by enchanted candles.

If Regulus recalled correctly, the latest installment of your favorite series just recently released. You mentioned it to Ginny in the Great Hall last week while he lounged on your lap. Was it ethical to eavesdrop on your conversations and use the information he gleaned to grow closer to you? Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help it. Cunning was in his nature. There was a reason Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after all.

So here he was on a Friday afternoon, looking absolutely engrossed in the romance section of the bookstore. Regulus picked up a novel from the display. One of your favorites, of course.

From the corner of his eye, Regulus glimpsed your entrance into the store. Naturally, you were headed in his direction since romance was your preferred guilty pleasure. He pretended to skim through the summary despite the fact that he already read the book in its entirety. When you were reading it back in your dorm, you blushed so much that he had to see what the fuss was about for himself.

“Oh, that’s a really good one,” you said shyly.

“Yeah?” Regulus asked, noting the pretty flush dusting your cheeks. “Have you read it before?”

“About a thousand times.”

“What’s the verdict, then? Would you recommend it to me?”

You cocked your head in observation, taking him in. Regulus was acutely aware that he didn’t fit the usual demographic of romance novel readers. Hell, even his all black ensemble clashed with the vibrant book covers.

“I know, I know. I have the looks of someone who would rather binge murder mysteries, but I’m trying to branch out.”

The grin you gave him made his heart stutter. “Well, I’d be more than happy to be your guide.”

Regulus had no idea why he hadn’t realized it sooner. Books—that was the gateway to your heart. He listened in fascination as you pulled books from the shelves, talking a mile a minute about your favorite authors, characters, and tropes. You lit up the entire room as you spoke, filling the place with your infectious energy. He had only ever seen you this way in the comfort of your own dorm, so he relished in the fact that he was witnessing this not as Shadow but as Regulus.

“Oh my god, I’ve been rambling. I’m so sorry. Once I start, I just can’t seem to stop.”

He smiled softly. Regulus could have listened to you talk about books for the rest of his life and never grow bored. “I don’t want you to stop. I like that you’re so passionate. It’s adorable.”

Suddenly, Regulus wished he had a camera because the sight of you smiling up at him was a memory that needed to be captured and immortalized. For now, he settled for its dizzying aftereffects.

“Thank you for letting me talk your ear off,” you said shyly as the two of you made your way to the counter.

“No, thank you for helping me expand my horizons.” Regulus countered as he set both of your books down.

You started to fish for your wallet, but Regulus simply waved you off. “Please, let me.” The shopkeeper gaped at him. “Would you mind putting everything on my tab?”

“Of course, Mr. Black.”

“Regulus is fine.”

“Sure thing Mr.—I mean, Regulus.”

As the shopkeeper carefully packed up the books, Regulus leaned in. “You can call me Reg, if you’d like. Reggie, if you’re feeling particularly brave.”

You beamed. “Thank you, Reggie.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

The Monday after the breakthrough, Regulus marched into Charms with purpose. You glanced up in amusement as he settled into his seat.

“You were right. Your recommendations were fantastic. I read it all in one sitting.”

“Which one?” you asked curiously.

Back at the bookstore, you had gotten a little overzealous with the recommendations, but at the end, you managed to narrow it down to your absolute top picks.

“All of them.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You read all of them?”

Regulus shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yes.”

“Every single book?”

“Mhm.”

“But I gave you six recommendations,” you stated incredulously. You considered yourself a voracious reader, but Regulus Black was giving you a run for your money.

“And I devoured every single one.”

As it turns out, that was all it took to unlock the floodgates. Soon your conversations flourished from books and literature to hobbies and future plans. Regulus could tell that you were warming up to him. The conversations that were once isolated to the Charms classroom flowed easily outside of it as well.

The first few times you were spotted together, it turned a few heads.

Regulus had never been particularly known for his sociability, so he supposed it was a rather strange sight for everyone else to find him practically glued to your side. Never mind that he’d done it a hundred times before as your Shadow and no one ever said a word about it back then. As he spotted you in your usual spot under the willow tree, he found that he really didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of your newfound friendship.

“Is this seat taken?”

You nodded as you moved your belongings to make room for him. “Yes, by you.”

Regulus dropped his backpack by his feet before stretching his long legs out on the wooden bench. You watched in amusement as the wood creaked under his weight. “I prefer to be horizontal when I read. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Knock yourself out, Mr. Black.”

“That’s Regulus to you, love.”

“I thought it was Reg.”

“Actually, I prefer Reggie. But only if it’s being used by you.”

“Okay, Reggie.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Despite spending time with you during the day, Regulus still made his visits in the night. He truly just couldn’t get enough. Thanks to his questionable methods, you were starting to open up to him more. Just that morning, the two of you ate breakfast together in the Great Hall. You teased him for eating such a bland meal.

“Honestly, Regulus. We attend a magical school. You could ask for anything your little heart desires and you choose to eat gruel?”

“It’s not gruel. It’s oatmeal.”

“My point exactly.”

“What’s wrong with oatmeal?”

“Nothing, I suppose. If you prefer eating cement for breakfast.”

“You’re awfully judgmental. Let’s take a closer look at your choices. A chocolate chip muffin? You might as well swallow a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.”

“My apologies, Mr. Black. I forgot that you abhor flavor. Shall we share your cement goop, then?”

“After you insulted my culinary preferences? I think not, Y/N.”

Needless to say, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Both of your friends constantly teased you about the newfound friendship. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and brushed off the comments, but even his mates noticed the way he smiled every time you were mentioned. You knew your friends were bursting at the seams with questions regarding Regulus, but to their credit, Ginny and Luna were happy seeing you happy.

Not everyone shared their enthusiasm though. Britt, in particular, was rather cross. It made no sense that someone like you would catch the attention of Regulus Black. She had harbored a crush on the youngest Black since third year and he could barely even spare her a glance, yet here you were receiving his full and undivided attention. Britt was seething with jealousy. She simply could not accept losing to you, of all people.

Perhaps you dosed Regulus with a love potion. Perhaps he pitied you, viewed you as some wounded animal to save. Either way, Britt was convinced that Regulus wasn’t meant to be with someone like you. A shy and quiet girl who could never hope to hold his attention for long. She just had to make Regulus see it. The perfect opportunity presented itself one Friday afternoon.

In the crowded hall, Regulus shielded you from the incoming traffic of students rushing to their next class. It wasn’t much of an effort on his part since your fellow classmates cowered and parted as soon as they caught sight of your companion’s scowl.

“Reggie, could you try not to scare the first years away?” You teased, bumping your hip against his. “Poor Anderson looked ready to cry when you glared at him.”

Regulus bumped you back. “He nearly stepped on your foot.”

“Did that really warrant you threatening to hide bullfrogs underneath his pillows?”

“You’re right, I’ve gone soft. I should’ve threatened him with fire serpents instead.”

“You’re hopeless, Regulus.”

Regulus placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, ma chérie.”

The nickname made you flush. Regulus had never been more thankful that French was his native tongue. The language of love certainly had its effect on you.

“However will you live?”

“I’ll tell you what, if you come keep me company tonight, then all will be forgiven.”

“I’m not helping you sneak bullfrogs into Anderson’s dorm.”

He pouted in response. “Fine. I suppose we can have a quiet night in. Come join the dark side. We can read together in the common room.”

“The dungeons?” You asked apprehensively.

Though you’ve gotten used to the occasional Slytherin greeting you in the halls, the whole lot of them still terrified you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about marching right into the serpent’s nest.

“It’ll just be us,” Regulus added softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The way he eased your worries was endearing. You bumped his hip again. “You can’t just kick people out of their own common room.”

“I’m Regulus Black,” he said haughtily. “Of course I can.” Regulus draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Come on, I know you’re dying to read that new novel you bought last weekend.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. He knew you too well. “You mean, the novel that you bought me. Against my will, thank you very much. I will pay you back.” Regulus started protesting, but you only held your hand up. “You’re right, though. I’m convinced. I’ll bring the snacks. Chocolate frogs for me and a bowl of gruel for you.”

You yelped as Regulus dug his fingers into your side. “It’s a date, love.”

Regulus paced back and forth, watching the door to the dungeons. To say he was nervous would’ve been an understatement.

As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Regulus wasted no time. He raced back to the common room and made sure everything was perfect. The boys were taking the piss out of him, but he paid no mind to them as he fluffed the pillows and draped a blanket over the couch.

“Ooh, what type of candle is this?” Theo asked as he wrapped his grimy little fingers around the banana nut muffin scented candle.

Regulus smacked his friend’s hand away. “Don’t touch that.”

Mattheo snickered as he took in the scene before him. “You must really like this girl, Reg. I don’t think I’ve ever put in this much effort for a date.”

“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?” Regulus snipped. Blaise and Pansy snorted in response.

Lorenzo bit back a smile. “I think it’s nice. Y/N will love it.”

“You think so?” Regulus asked absentmindedly. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The dungeons were a far cry from your dorm, but Regulus did his best to emulate the comfort it provided. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s a bit…cozy for my taste,” said Draco. Regulus fought the urge to throttle his cousin. To be fair, Draco hated anything that wasn’t French or expensive. “But I’m sure your girl will love it.”

“She’s not my girl,” Regulus corrected. “Not yet, at least.”

Tom shot a disinterested glance at him from the couch. “What on earth are you waiting for? You’ve been pining over her for months. Your yearning is starting to sicken me.”

Mattheo grimaced. “I think that’s Tom’s way of encouraging you to make a move.”

“Consider me encouraged,” Regulus said with an eye roll. “Now everyone get out.”

As his friends filtered out, Lorenzo patted him on the back. “Good luck, mate.”

Luck had nothing to do with it. Regulus refused to take his chances on such a finicky thing. He was far too resourceful to leave things up to chance. Instead, he compiled everything he’s learned about you to ensure that you wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

At exactly six o’clock on the dot, Regulus opened the door to the dungeons. He smiled when he found you standing in the corridor, fidgeting with the hem of your sunflower dress. You clutched your book to your chest as he stepped through the threshold.

“Hi, Reg,” you greeted shyly.

“Hi, love.” Regulus offered his arm, which you gladly took. “Come on in.”

You weren’t sure what to expect at first, but you found the dungeons to be quite cozy. The waves from the Black Lake gently lapped against the stained glass windows, the murky waters shimmering across the onyx floors. The furnishings were all dark wood and harsh lines with pops of emerald tying everything together. The velvet couch was piled with pillows and candles illuminated the space, providing a warmth and coziness that you never would’ve attributed to the dungeons.

“This is quite lovely,” you said softly.

Regulus took your bag from you and set it gently on the marble side table. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Out,” Regulus responded. “If they’re smart, they’ll stay that way.”

You chuckled. “I guess it pays to be mean and scary.”

“To everyone else, yes.” Regulus said as he guided you over to the couch. “Not to you, though.”

The sentiment made you smile. “Well, big scary Reggie, thank you for inviting me over. As promised, I came bearing snacks.”

As you laid out a treasure trove of treats, Regulus watched with an amused smile. “For Salazar’s sake, I’m getting a cavity just looking at all of this candy.”

You grinned as you waved a sour gummy worm in the air. “But it’s good, though.” Regulus backed away from the neon colored candy with a grimace. “Come on, Reg. Try it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Please,” you pleaded, poking his cheek with the worm. “Just one little nibble. I know you want to.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” he sighed defeatedly.

Regulus leaned over, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a small bite. You flushed furiously, heat prickling your skin as his emerald gaze pierced through you. From this close, you could make out the golden flecks swimming in his irises.

“It’s a bit sweet,” Regulus murmured. His eyes never left yours as he held your wrist in place, devouring what was left of the sour worm. “But I’ve grown an appetite for sweet things lately.”

Regulus licked flecks of sugar off of his lips, smirking when he caught you staring. You cleared your throat, eager to diffuse whatever tension was brewing between you. He tracked your movements as you retrieved your book and daintily perched yourself on the couch.

“Shall we?”

A comfortable silence befell the common room, broken only by the lulling crash of the waves against the windows. It baffled you how at ease you were in the dungeons. Usually, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to new environments, but something about this place seemed familiar. You felt safe here, thanks to the boy sitting beside you.

As you curled up on the sofa, Regulus assumed his position. He scooted towards you, placing his head on your lap and stretching his long legs out until they touched the other end of the couch. With a smile, you peered at him as he nuzzled against your free hand. Regulus sighed in satisfaction when you ran your fingers through his curls. The action reminded you of your little Shadow.

You had no idea how you hadn’t realized it sooner, but the two of them were similar in a lot of ways. They were both standoffish and prickly on the outside, but complete softies on the inside. The thought made you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Regulus murmured. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be reading, his book remained perched on his stomach while his eyes fluttered close.

“It’s just hard to reconcile grumpy Regulus to the Regulus that practically begs for his head to be scratched.”

Regulus scoffed. “I do not beg.”

You placed your hand back in your lap. Regulus furrowed his brows as he glanced up at you. With a soft nudge to your side and a matching pout to boot, he single handedly proved your point. “Why’d you stop?”

The pointed look you gave him made Regulus flush. “Fine, I suppose I’m not above begging.”

You raised a brow, which only made him sigh in defeat. Regulus lifted your hand and placed it back atop his curls. “Please?”

“Only because you asked nicely, Reggie.”

The rest of the evening was blissfully peaceful as the two of you continued reading. Well, you were reading. Regulus, on the other hand, hadn’t even cracked open his book. You could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into you while you pretended to be engrossed in your novel.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked self-consciously.

“No.”

“Then why are you staring?”

Regulus sat upright and faced you, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. His expression was soft as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing along your jaw.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

The air left your lungs as Regulus beheld you. The calluses on his thumb stroked your skin as he caressed your cheek. You shivered at his touch, at his scent, at his closeness. Regulus was like poetry come to life. A work of art that moved and breathed and mesmerized everyone around him. If anyone was beautiful, it was him.

“Reggie…”

The words died in your throat when Regulus brushed his thumb over your lips. “Y/N…”

Little by little, the gap closed between you. Anticipation swelled in the room, enveloping everything with unspoken tension. You felt like a harp string pulled taut, waiting for release. Just as Regulus tilted your head back, a loud smack echoed through the dungeons.

You nearly jumped out of your seat, but Regulus shielded you behind him, keeping you close. A stream of people made their way through the common room, trampling the once serene atmosphere. The commotion from earlier seemed to be coming from the large keg that Adrian Pucey was now rolling across the stone floor. The other Slythering began clearing the furniture, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Regulus was incensed. “What the fuck is going on?”

One by one, his friends streamed in. Blaise was the first to squeeze through the crowd. “Common room party, apparently. We ran here to warn you, but they were already rolling the kegs through the corridor before we caught up.”

Theodore and Mattheo pushed their way through a couple of fourth years. At their complaint, the two boys glared at them so intensely that they slowly started to back away.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mattheo barked.

“Are you deaf or just thick? Get fucking lost, mate,” Theo added menacingly.

You flinched at the display of aggression. Regulus clocked the reaction and pulled you closer before frowning at his friends. Theodore elbowed Mattheo when he caught sight of you, who in turn elbowed Theodore back.

“Sorry about that, Y/N.” Theodore drawled, his Italian accent seeping through the words. “We didn’t see you there. Usually, we’re more well-behaved in the presence of a lady.”

“That’s a lie,” Pansy interjected. “You’re horrid around me all the time.”

“I’ve known you since we were in diapers, Pans. You’re certainly not a lady,” Theodore quipped.

“Why, you little twat—”

“Guys,” Regulus scolded.

Pansy stopped in her tracks, sighing as she put her hand down after landing a smack on the back of Theodore’s head. She offered her hand. “Right. Well, this isn’t how we thought our first introduction would go, but it’s nice to finally meet the infamous Y/N. Regulus talks about you all the time.”

You flushed as you took Pansy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Pansy.”

“Me next,” Theodore exclaimed. “Theodore Nott, at your service.”

The floppy haired boy bowed cheekily before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Regulus glared daggers at his friend, but you merely giggled in amusement.

“Move, Nott. It’s my turn now.” Mattheo smacked Theodore away and enveloped you into a hug. “Mattheo, the most handsome Riddle. Although don’t tell my brother that. He might hex me. Anyways, nice to meet you." He paused, sniffing your hair unabashedly. "Oh! Reg is right. You do smell nice.”

“Riddle,” warned Regulus.

Mattheo only winked at you before stepping aside. You exchanged introductions with Blaise and Draco next until Lorenzo caught up with the rest of the group. He gave you a warm hug before explaining that someone had printed out posters promoting a party that none of the Slytherins had any clue about. Of course, it didn’t take much convincing on his housemates' part before they jumped on the bandwagon, hence the packed common room.

“I’m so sorry,” Regulus said as he turned over to face you. “ I didn’t know any of this was happening.”

Worry marred his beautiful face. Though the situation was a little more than overwhelming, you didn’t want Regulus worrying on your behalf. It was touching, truly. But you could try to push through it.

“It’s okay, Reg. I’m fine, really.”

“We can leave,” he offered. “Find somewhere more quiet.”

“Already?” Mattheo asked, pouting. “But we haven’t even played butterbeer pong yet! Dibs on Y/N as my partner.”

“No fair! I was going to ask her,” Theodore said, shoving Mattheo. His curly headed friend shoved back, which only escalated into Theodore putting him into a headlock. You shook your head in amusement.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea how to play butterbeer pong.”

Mattheo slithered out of Theodore’s hold and beamed. “Oh, it’s easy. You just arrange a bunch of cups into a pyramid and then take turns shooting ping pong balls into them. Surely, you’ve handled balls before, right?”

The double meaning was not lost on the group. Regulus tensed, charging up to smack Mattheo into next week for the inappropriate joke, but your response stopped him in his tracks.

“I have,” you said softly. “Have you? Because it doesn’t seem like it from the way you kept missing the goalposts during the game last week.”

Mattheo gaped in shock before bursting into laughter. “Oh, she’s a keeper.”

“You’re lucky Y/N found that funny,” Regulus said to his friend. “Otherwise, I would’ve twisted your intestines into a bow for her.”

“Taking a page out of my brother’s book, I see,” Mattheo taunted.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’ve ever had a body shot, Y/N?” Theo asked with feigned innocence. “If not, I’m more than willing to show you.”

Regulus reeled back and smacked Theo on the head while the rest of the group cackled. Theo rubbed the sore spot and grumbled. “A simple no would have sufficed.”

The more time you spent around them, the less intimidating they became. From what you gleaned, they seemed to be a tight knit group. It wasn’t at all what you expected from the Slytherins.

“Your friends are silly,” you whispered to Regulus as the group migrated to the couch.

In the background, Mattheo and Theodore bickered over who drank the last of the firewhisky while Lorenzo wiped the back of his mouth and burped. He winked when he caught your eye, charging you with keeping his secret.

“They’re idiots,” Regulus scoffed. His tone was contrasted by the softness in his eyes as he watched his friends muck about. “But they’re family.”

Throughout the night, you didn’t miss the way that Regulus fussed over you. He was a constant presence by your side, attuned and attentive to every need. When you felt parched, Regulus was there to offer you a drink. When you felt cold, Regulus draped his jacket over you without you needing to ask. He checked in with you often, making sure his obnoxious friends weren’t offending you and ensuring that the attention wasn’t too overwhelming to handle.

You assured him that you were fine. In fact, you were surprised to realize that you were enjoying yourself. It was a lot easier to deal with your social anxiety when you had someone there to ground you.

The Slytherins were a rather social bunch. Pansy was thrilled at the prospect of having another girl join the group. Within thirty minutes, she had talked you into going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend. She wanted a break from the boys, she said. But she also made it known that she expected a full rundown of the situation between you and Regulus.

Draco and Blaise were very clearly eavesdropping, despite their efforts to appear nonchalant. Apparently, everyone was as invested in your pairing as Pansy was. Theodore and Mattheo didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were talking Regulus up. When Mattheo declared that Regulus rescued an injured baby bird and nursed it back to health, you nearly lost it. Regulus hated birds.

“You’re an idiot,” Regulus exclaimed.

“No, let him talk. I want to hear all about it. What kind of bird was it, Mattheo?”

“Uh…the kind with wings?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Really, mate? That’s the best you could come up with?”

The group continued their bantering as you watched in fascination. Their dynamic fascinated you. They bickered like siblings, but you could tell that they would go to the end of the world for one another. You could see why Regulus thought of them as family.

“Feeling okay?” Regulus asked, nudging you with his hip.

“Mhm,” you responded, bumping him back. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I did,” Regulus said. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course, I had to see you in your natural habitat. I didn’t know you were such a party animal, Reggie.”

He grabbed hold of your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I preferred when the party was just you and me.”

You flushed, pitching forward to hide your face behind a curtain of hair. “I did, too.”

“When everyone leaves, I intend on picking up where we left off. You should know that I’m not the type of man who leaves things unfinished, love.”

There was no hiding the blush that blossomed on your cheeks. Crimson colored your features even as you excused yourself to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you studied your reflection. While you would always feel the lingering social anxiety that came from being in large crowds, you thought that tonight was going fairly well. With a smile, you made your return back to the Regulus.

“I don’t know who you’re fooling, Y/N.” Britt sneered at you as she leaned against the wall, a cigarette held haphazardly between her neon painted fingers.

You frowned. “What are you talking about, Britt?”

“Regulus may have fallen for your shy and sweet little act, but he’ll get sick and tired of you dragging him down sooner or later.”

A lump formed in the pit of your stomach. Though it was no secret that Britt wasn’t exactly a fan of yours, you hadn’t expected her to say such hurtful things. Even worse, she touched a nerve with her words.

Britt nodded pointedly towards the crowd. “Look at him. He can’t even enjoy himself without worrying about poor, helpless little Y/N.”

Regulus towered over everyone, cutting an imposing figure in the middle of the room. His eyes darted through the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. Perhaps it was the reality of seeing the worry in his features, his half-distracted responses to whatever Lorenzo was saying as he stood stoic, unable to partake in conversation because he was too busy looking for you. Worrying about you. However horrid Britt was, you realized that there was merit to her words.

The last thing you wanted was to hold Regulus back. You didn’t want him worrying about babysitting you instead of having fun with his friends, which is exactly what he was doing now. The thought made you sad. Sure, Regulus was fine with catering to your needs now, but he was bound to tire of it sooner or later. You didn’t want to find out how long it would take.

You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Most of all, Regulus.

Without a word, you passed by Britt and weaved your way through the room. You stuck to the alcoves, passing beneath its shadowy refuge until the door came to view. Only a few steps stood between you and your escape when a low, stern voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” said Tom Riddle. “Leaving early, are we?”

“Oh, hi there Tom,” you mumbled, casting your gaze towards the floor. You were afraid that you’d cry if you stayed in the dungeons a second longer. “M’just not feeling very well.”

You could feel his observant gaze sweeping over you. “I imagined you wouldn’t after encountering that hag outside of the bathroom.”

“You saw that?” You asked in a small, defeated voice.

Finally, you deigned to look up and found Tom staring at you. As always, the eldest Riddle was cold and stoic, but there was something in his gaze that conveyed concern.

“Yes, and I heard it too.”

“Please, can you—can you just not tell Reggie?”

Tom’s expression was imperceptible besides his curt nod. “If that’s what you prefer. I’ll let him know you left early because you weren’t feeling well.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

You bid him a good night before reaching for the door. Behind you, Tom cleared his throat.

“For the record, that hag doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re not dragging Regulus down. If anything, you’ve made the twat more tolerable over these past few weeks.”

Before you could respond, Tom was gone. You barely caught a glimpse of his back as he climbed the stairs that led to the dormitories. The parting surprised you, but you figured that Tom probably just felt bad for witnessing the conversation between you and Britt.

Casting a last glance towards the common room, you spotted Regulus once again.

Softly, you whispered, “Bye, Reggie.”

Once you were back in your dorm, you showered and decided to turn in for the night. It was just a few minutes shy of midnight as you tossed and turned in bed. Your roommate was most likely still at the party, leaving you to ponder your thoughts alone. There was an air of restlessness in the room as you stared up at the ceiling and considered your predicament.

No matter which way you looked at it, there was only one solution. You had to end your friendship with Regulus.

The thought filled you with overwhelming sadness. Letting go of Regulus made you feel so isolated and alone, but you knew it was the right thing to do. As though sensing your need for comfort, Shadow slinked through your door and hopped right into your lap. The black cat stared up at you with knowing eyes and meowed.

“At least I can count on you to always keep me company,” you murmured softly as you scratched under Shadow’s chin. “It’s been a rough night.”

Shadow bumped his head against your hip, seemingly telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

“Britt is right, Shadow,” you confessed. “I’m just not the type of girl Regulus should be with.”

The cat bumped you again, stomping his feet on the bed in frustration. Shadow gave you a rather argumentative meow.

“Oh, don’t give me that. We both know it’s true. Reggie is Reggie and I’m…well, I’m me.”

Shadow hissed in response, demanding your attention. You sighed as you pulled the cat into your lap. “It’s a shame,” you whispered against his dark fur. “I really like him.”

To your surprise, Shadow purred softly and cuddled against your side. Though the feral little cat had taken a liking to you and your dorm, Shadow was always usually gone in the morning. Tonight though, the cat curled up next to you as though it knew that this was what you needed.

“Good night, Shadow.”

Regulus knew it was reckless.

But after Tom informed him of your sudden illness, suspicion rose in him like a tide. Even if you weren’t feeling well, it wasn’t like you to leave so abruptly, which meant that something was definitely wrong. All of his suspicions were confirmed when he got to your dorm.

It broke his heart to hear you say that you weren’t right for him. How could such a thought even cross your mind? There had never been anyone more perfect to him than you. Didn’t you know that you were the first person Regulus looked for in a room full of people? Couldn’t you tell how head over heels he was for you? His sweet, sassy, shy, sunshine of a Hufflepuff. There was no one better.

Certainly not Britt. Regulus was well aware of the crush she had on him. At first, he simply ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in someone as foul and loathsome as that girl, but now that she had come after you, Regulus had half a mind to sink his teeth and claws into her ankles until he drew blood.

At the moment, his plot for revenge was set aside as he focused on comforting you. Up until this point, Regulus had always been careful not to fall asleep in your dorm because he never knew when he was going to switch back, but tonight, he was willing to risk it. He didn’t know if this would be the last time you ever spoke to him given what you confessed earlier.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didn’t want the night to end. Regulus wasn't ready to face the prospect of you ending things, so he snuggled into your side and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

It was a choice that would certainly have its consequences in the morning.

The first thing that woke him up was not the sunlight streaming through your windows or the chirping of the birds, but instead your surprised yelp. Regulus blinked sleepily, rubbing his paw against his snout, but instead bumped his hand into his nose.

This was not good.

This was definitely not good.

You were on the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up over your chin as you stared at him in disbelief.

“Reggie? What—what are you doing here?”

Regulus was an idiot. A stupid, careless idiot.

But none of that mattered now.

“Don’t end our friendship.”

You reeled back in surprise. “I—what—what’s even happening—”

“Don’t end our friendship,” Regulus said once more. “Fuck, it’s not even a friendship. You and I both know it’s so much more than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to get bored of you. Never in a million years would I ever get bored of you. In the months that I’ve gotten to know you, not once have I ever stopped feeling drawn in. I want to know everything about you, Y/N. Even though you tell me everything without realizing it, I still want to know more. I want to listen to you talk about your books and hold your hand when you’re overwhelmed and follow you all around the castle like I’ve been doing all along.”

You were speechless as Regulus continued. “Tom told me that you weren’t feeling well last night. I knew it was a lie, so I had to come and see for myself. I had to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t know it was me.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “But then you said you wanted to end our friendship and I just—I was selfish. I should’ve gone back to my dorm, but I didn’t know if last night was the last time you’d ever speak to me and I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Realization dawned over you. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking into place. “You’re—you—you’ve been Shadow this whole time?”

Regulus nodded guiltily. “I understand if you’re angry with me, but please know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I found your dorm by accident that first night and I don’t know. I just kept coming back. You just kept drawing me back.”

He bowed his head and ran a hand through his curls. “I realize you might hate me after this, but you have been the best part of my day since I accidentally stumbled into your dorm and I think—no, I know that I’ve fallen for you.”

You blinked in disbelief, still processing his confession. “So you’ve been…you this whole time? You knew everything I’ve ever said to Shadow. You listened to me vent and rant, thinking I was just talking to a cat.” You paused as something niggled at your brain. “When we first ran into each other at the bookstore, did you already know I was going to be there?”

Regulus didn't deny it. “I did. I also already read all of the books on your shelves in advance on the off chance that you might mention it in class. I didn't really need help in charms, that was just an excuse to spend more time with you and I...I bought the same candles and blankets you like so you'd be comfortable in the common room. I learned all of that by listening to you, by spying on you, and I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry —"

His apology was cut short as you surged forward to kiss him. Regulus was stunned for a moment as your lips met, but it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. One arm slid around your waist to pull you closer while the other cradled your cheek. His kisses were hungry, like he was a man awaiting the gallows and you were his final meal. It was full of passion, the longing and yearning evident as he gorged himself on the taste of you.

Coming up for air, Regulus finally opened his pretty emerald eyes and looked at you. His gaze pierced through your skin, raw and vulnerable. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Regulus sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours. “Plus, how can I be mad when you make such a cute little kitty?”

Regulus laughed, the sweet, melodious sound filling the room. You brushed his curls back and grinned. “For the record, I’ve fallen for you too.”

“That’s a relief. My friends have been pestering me on finally making a move for months. Pansy cornered me last night and lectured me on asking you to be my girlfriend before you realize that you’re too good for me.”

“I think I like Pansy.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Regulus groaned. “She’ll definitely try to steal you away from me.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

“Good, I don’t want Parkinson getting any ideas about running off with my girlfriend.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?”

“Girlfriend. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Take your pick, mon cœur.”

“I’ll take all of the above, boyfriend.”

Later that morning, after much cuddling and kissing, you and Regulus finally decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. You smiled as he held your hand, bumping your hip as the two of you walked through the corridors. It was strange how at ease you felt. You were vaguely aware of the eyes that trailed your every move, but they quickly blended into the background when Regulus pulled you close and kissed your cheek.

Luna and Ginny perked up at the sight of you, surprise marring their faces when they spotted Regulus at your side. Their eyebrows raised to the skies, pointedly staring at your linked fingers.

Later, you mouthed. You had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but your friends merely smiled and nodded.

“Finally,” Pansy announced exasperatedly. She patted the seat next to her as you shyly slipped in. “I was beginning to think that we’d have to scheme to get the two of you together.”

“No need,” you said with a smile. “I think we took care of that on our own.”

Regulus smiled and nuzzled against your shoulder. The boys flashed him shit-eating grins, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Stop scaring my girlfriend away, Pans.”

“Oh, is it girlfriend now? It’s about time. I’ve only listened to you pine and yearn for months.”

“Excuse her,” Blaise said. “She’s just happy to have another girl in the group.”

“Damn right I am. I’m tired of spending so much time with you heathens.” Pansy patted your shoulder. “I hope you’re in the market for new friends, because you’re not getting rid of me now. My first act of friendship will be to determine whether or not to hex that little trollop for glaring at you. Do you know that girl, Y/N?”

You turned and found Britt frowning at you with her arms crossed. “It’s alright, Pansy. She’s not worth it.”

At the same moment, Tom sauntered through the aisles. Once he reached Britt, he cut her a glare that would paralyze a basilisk. She cowered back and made a hasty retreat.

Tom merely continued walking before taking a seat next to Mattheo. “So, that hag, “ he says in a no-nonsense tone. “Would you like me to take care of her?”

You glanced at the group in concern. “What exactly does taking care of her mean?”

Mattheo’s curly head popped up from his plate. “Oh, he means he’ll feed her to his snake.”

You laughed at the jest, but Tom remained stone-faced. He was obviously just kidding. Right?

“He’s dead serious,” Theo added. “I’ve seen him do it before.”

With a gulp, you turned back to Tom. “That won’t be necessary, Tom. Please don’t feed Britt to your snake.”

Tom shrugged as though you were discussing the weather. “Suit yourself.”

When everyone returned to their morning banter, you turned to Regulus. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Regulus smiled and pecked your lips. “You know, I considered clawing her ankles off, but I think Tom’s way will be much quicker.”

“Regulus Black.” You scolded, though it wasn’t entirely convincing given the grin you were biting back.

“It’s Reggie to you, love.” You stared at him pointedly, which only made him sigh dramatically. “Fine, Tom’s snake will not have a new snack, but only because I have a saint for a girlfriend.”

“And I have a devious little sinner for a boyfriend.”

Regulus smirked. “I’ll make sure to worship at your altar for penance.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but blush as Regulus laid his head down on your shoulder once more. You ran your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself when he let out a satisfied hum that sounded awfully close to a purr.

#he's so cute my little black cat baby boy #regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black fic

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nosyrobin · 1 month ago

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|| WHEN UNCLE!READER GETS SICK AND THE BATBOYS HEAR ABOUT IT ||

Coughing, sneezing, raspy voice, achy body. Oh dear, you got a cold. Shaking like a damn leaf on a windy day, you called your brother. Bruce immediately picks up the phone, you knew he was in the bat cave. Hearing the bat-computer keys and talking. You could only roll your eyes as you talked to him. “Can’t make it. I’m sick” you said. He responded it with a “sick? Stay home. I’ll send Alfred to make you some soup Y/N.” You could only nod before coughing a storm up. If you could see your brother now, he would be frowning with concern.

“It’s not….deadly is it?” “What?! Bruce, no. It’s a cold. Yknow how I get.” You said closing your eyes about to hang up and rest. Bruce only sighed for the other side of the phone. “Alright.” “And Bruce.” “Yeah?” “DONT let the boys know I’m sick. Yknow how they get when I’m sick…” sadly they found out. You didn’t know how or when. But of course you knew who found out first.

Tim found out first, first because you didn’t show to the manor on the daily time you always do. Tim notice Alfred picking up your favorite soup you eat when sick when you use to live here at the manor when he was Robin. Tim frowned, you’re sick. You’re sick, alone, withering away in bed. What kind of nephew would he be if his dear uncle is not with company. So with that, he grabbed some doctor gloves, a face mask, hand sanitizer and Lysol. He was prepared. When Alfred went away to secure the packed soup, Tim took the packed up soup and ran out the door to drive to your house.

Jason surprisingly was the second to find out. He lives with you, like a roommate kinda of thing? So why in the world would he be second? Because he was too busy bleeding out in the manor after a fight and he had to stay in the same manor over night before you had gotten sick. Jason had seen Tim run out the door when he came down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he also sen that the packed soup was the kind of soup you ate only if you were sick or terribly hungry. But since he knew you weren’t in the manor, he went with the former and immediately dressed up to go see his sick uncle.

Damian, he always knows when something is going on. But he definitely knows when something is going on when he sees his two brothers leave the manor. “Uncle’s sick Titus. Drake has his favorite soup and Todd has his favorite book. Pathetic, they forgot uncle’s heated up blanket.” Damian says with a smirk. Certainly holding it as Titus barks at his owner. “Guess we will pay my uncle a visit, I’ll see you later.” The brown skinned boy said as he pats his beloved dog. Leaving the manor with a shortcut to your house.

Dick was last, and was mad knowing that no one informed him that you were sick! Like cmon, he’s the first Robin and he had more of a bond with you when he was little! So how could his brothers leave him in the dust like that! He immediately got off work and speeded over to your house. He got some of your snacks, a “get well soon” card. And just some flowers, it was perfect. Perfect for the “favorite” nephew of course.

Tim was first at your door and entered using a copy of your spare key, then Jason shoulder rushed Tim like a football player, Damian was going through your window, and dick…dick just stood there watching his little brothers cause havoc. The soup was saved by Damian sliding to catch it, Tim almost had a heart attack as Jason just glares at all the brothers in his “home.”

Damian smirks, ready to get the “best nephew” award by handing you the soup you desire when sick. That was before Jason picked him like a stray cat. “What the hell you’re doing here demon?” “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Helping uncle.” Damian says with a glare. Dick takes Damian out of Jason’s bear grip and then helps Tim up. “Well, arguing isn’t going to help. Let’s just see how unc is doing guys.” All the boys nod in agreement, going inside your room. Tim still looks like a doctor so he was the last one in.

You were surprised, very surprised to see all four of your brother’s kids and your nephews at your house smiling as if they didn’t just break in. You heard them, but you thought you were just hallucinating. Damian gave you the still hot and ready soup on your night stand and your blanket. He wanted to get on your bed and lay with you, but you shook your head no. Not wanting to get him sick. Jason just sat down in a chair you have in your room, watching you closely like a hawk in case something happens. Tim was taking your temperature, asking you about the medicine you have taken. Basically a worried baby worried for his poor “old” uncle. Dick just lays the basket of things he bought for you. Smirking as he made a comment about how he is obviously the “favorite” nephew. That made everyone mad, cue to loud arguing and Damian ready to jump his brother.

As much as the boys loved you, they acted as if you were on your death bed. Which made you kinda mad, but at least they care for you a lot. But the constant arguing was not helping you as headaches started to attack. You coughed loudly as you felt your eyes droop more. You hated being sick, but you mostly hated your peace being ruined.

“Out! Out now!” You yelled with a raspy voice, all the boys stop. Frowning before leaving, except for Jason who stood there with crossed arms. “I live here unc…” you glare before throwing a box of tissues at your buffed up nephew who didn’t seem phased at all. “Not as of now mister, you stay at the manor or whatever you go until I get better.” Jason stayed silent before leaving. Not before putting a bottled up medicine by your bed, with a small note that says “get better.”

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fangisms · 3 months ago

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Hi would u be able to do a Theo not x fem reader where they are enemies and the reader is a cat animagus and he finds us somewhere in our cat form and takes us with him and is like cuddling the cat and everyone knows it’s us and finds it funny

cat and mouse

A/N: thinking about this DEEPLY giggling and kicking my feet WITH DETERMINATION. (gif creds: @thickdickgrayson)

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Animagus!Reader

Summary: Theo finds a stray cat in the library. Turns out that stray cat is his sworn enemy.

Warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, cat animagus, cursing, banter, pet names (kitten, micina, kittycat)

Meow?

Theo whips his head around at the noise. And there he sees a cat sat poised and proper at the center of the potions aisle of the library. Why is there a cat sat at the center of the potions aisle of the library. The cat tilts its head.

“Shh... We’re in a library,” he huffs, flipping through the first few pages of a book with a deep blue cover. He turns on his heel and heads for the small desk pushed up against the wall. The cat slinks after him, leaping from the floor to the chair to the desk.

“Pest,” Theo says. “You know, if you’re choosing to sit there, you’ll have to share with my books.”

The cat sits.

“Have it your way.”

Theo tries not to pay any more mind to the stray as he studies the reactivity of unicorn blood. Luckily, the cat doesn’t move much so it’s not very hard for him to stay focused. It only sinks into itself as it settles, lying on the table. He rolls his eyes and gives in to the cat’s wicked tactics, drawing the tips of his fingers between the little thing’s ears. It begins to purr.

“You’re not so bad. In fact, I’ve had much worse study partners. I’d take you over Matty any day.”

Deciding the cat has foiled his every attempt at retaining information, Theo packs up, reshelves the book, and heads for the library doors.

Meow.

“No, little pest, I can’t take you with me. I’ve already got enough vermin to take care of.”

But her big, dumb eyes twinkle up at him and suddenly he can’t refuse.

“Oh, whatever,” as he holds the door open for her to happily trot through.

She follows him coyly into the great hall, hopping up into the space he usually occupies at mealtime. He stares incredulously at the cat who responds with a jeer: meow. So that’s how it’s going to be. Give an inch and these damn things take a mile.

Pansy leans into Mattheo’s side, whispering, “Isn’t that—?”

“Yes, dear Pansy. Yes, it is,” he chuckles while bringing his cup to his lips. Theo grumbles, trying his best to shoo his new pet out of his spot before finally, begrudgingly, opting to share. What he doesn’t expect is when she curls into his lap after he sits beside her.

He sighs then, scratching its back and fixing himself a plate. He’s a little puzzled as to why the seat directly across from him is vacant, though. That’s usually where you taunt him from every meal. But lately, you’ve been absent.

“Have either of you seen—”

“Nope!” Pansy chuffs through a grin, “not since the last time you asked. Anyway, aren’t you two sworn to be mortal enemies or something?”

Mattheo clears his throat, eyes flicking from the cat in Theo’s lap to its adoring new owner. “Pansy’s right, Theo. You mention her an awful lot for someone who claims to hate her with the fire of a million suns,” he teases, suddenly turning his attention and cocking a brow, “Ohhh, I get it; you love her.”

“No,” Theo huffs petulantly, “She’s my potions partner, and I seem to be doing all the work on our group project.”

“Oh,” Matty rolls his eyes, “your potions partner. Right.”

“Shut up.”

Theo spends the rest of the night up in the dormitories. His cat friend had refused to climb the stairs, and Theo found the kindness in his heart to carry her up the stairs. He has to admit he melted a little when she started purring against his chest halfway to the door.

She finds herself a comfortable spot on his bed, settling contentedly in a ball beside his books and papers.

“Some study partner you are,” he says. He can’t help but amuse her, occasionally taking study breaks to scratch her chin and wonder how long she’d stick around for.

Except, in the morning, he’s a little confused to find a human girl in his bed. In fact, she’s the one human girl he’s known to dislike more than any other. What kind of cruel trick is this. Had Matty really put all that effort into sneaking his enemy into his bed. Matty doesn’t even show up for class half the time.

You stir and stretch your arms above your head, eyes flicking open to an unfamiliar setting. This surely isn’t the girl’s dormitory. So where are you.

“You?” a voice accuses from just above you. Theo sits up, and you startle, teetering off the edge of the bed with a thud.

“Fuck,” you huff, scrambling to your feet and straightening your robes with a frightened look on your face. “Right. I’ll see you… around!”

You’re out the door before he can call after you. Would he even call after you? You’re not sure, but you’re also not going to stick around and find out.

Theo’s heart races in his chest. He’s about to call after you, but he’s too flustered to get the words out so he hurls himself backward on the bed with a sigh.

…

A week trudges by without a sign of you. Honestly, he’s more worried you haven’t been attending meals. And he no longer sees you on weekend group outings. He almost misses your targetted quips. And your laugh. Even if it was at him.

He knows you’re alive, though. A packet had slipped underneath the door as he was getting ready for bed one night. The worksheet had both your names on it; it detailed the instructions to the potions assignment. In your handwriting. But it was worthless without you here to help him in person. He thinks himself crazy, catching glimpses of cat tails around corners or paws pouncing between tree branches.

But he thinks, he can’t be crazy staring at the cat perched still beneath one of the benches in the quad. So he sits and bends down to nudge your cat cheek with the pad of his finger.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he hums. Your eyes blink open, staring at him blankly before pacing out from under the bench and hopping up next to him with a determined stretch. He doesn’t believe his eyes when the docile cat he’s been hunting for the last week transforms into you.

You shrug, not daring to look in his eyes for fear of admitting defeat. “You found me.”

“I’ve missed you, micina,” he teases. Though, maybe there’s a grain of truth in his taunt. But you only roll your eyes.

“Don’t be weird, Nott.”

He scoffs. “Okay, you don’t like me, but you laid on my lap, cuddle with me, spent hours just hanging around me… It’s very confusing.”

“Yeah. So?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah. So… why?”

You sigh, “just because I think you’re obnoxious doesn’t mean… I don’t like you—”

“Oh, no?”

“Shh, I’m trying to explain!” But it’s hard when you’re both on the verge of laughing at your shared hypocrisy. “We’re… I mean I didn’t think you liked me either! What’s your excuse?”

“You’re changing the subject, kittycat.”

You groan, now turning to face him with all the determination of a militia.

“We’re meant to be rivals, you know. We’re the same blood status, the same house, we have the same damned friend group, and no matter how hard I try, you still manage to get slightly higher marks than me!”

“I know,” he teases.

“So… I wanted to see what you were doing differently.”

“So you slept in my bed?”

“I had a change of plans!” you squeak, shrugging when he chuckles under his breath.

“Which was?”

“Well…” You shake your head, realzing it sounds a little silly under his scrutiny like this. “Maybe if I distracted you, you’d do poorly on your OWLs.”

He snickers.

“But we got the same score so…” you groan, “we cuddled for nothing.” He sets his hand gently on your knee, and for once, you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or not.

“Nothing? Really?”

He leans in closer, and now you’re sure he’s trying to distract you. You press your hand to his chest and he watches your eyes widen with amusement.

“No! No, it’s your turn. I’d like you to hear your reason since you’ve already proven yourself to be better than me and any reason you give is going to be a load of bull—”

“You talk too much.” He says it with a smug expression, looking down on you while leaning back into his palms.

“That’s not”—you squint at him, just knowing he’s taking the piss—“I barely talk to you at all. In fact, I only do so when I’m forced!”

“No, you misunderstand me,” he hums, expression softening as his voice lowers, suddenly becoming a much more private conversation, “You talk too much to everyone but me.”

Your jaw goes slack, and he smiles a little, knowing the way both of your hearts race when you look in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he teases, nudging your arm and shifting closer, “Come on, micina mia, you didn’t really think I hated you. It’s all talk. I mean, you can be annoyingly pretty at times, and I hate it when you ignore me, but I could never hate you. Not now that I know your little secret… kitten.”

He’s surprised when you laugh, grabbing his arm to steady yourself.

“Theo, I think everyone knows my little secret but you,” you say, grinning at him in pure delight at his disbelief.

“You’re joking!”

“No!”

“Those bastards,” he huffs, thinking of Matty and Pansy whispering and giggling in the great hall. You stand and brush off your robe, and he follows hurriedly, hovering next to you.

“More cuddling?” he teases, and you turn to him with a smile.

“Got a thing for cats, Nott?”

“No, no,”—He matches your grin and leans in to gently peck your cheek—“Just a thing for you.”

masterlist

#he is such a cat person #or just a you person 😜#theo nott #theodore nott #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #x fem!reader #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x fem!reader #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic

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ghosty-writes-23 · 9 months ago

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I'm Home Sweetheart. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Fluff, Leon being husband material, NSFW Content, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, !WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Choking, Breathplay, Size kink, Spit play, Doggystyle, Blow Job, Eating out, 69, Dom!Leon, Aftercare.

Pairing: DI!Husband!Leon + Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Tell me about your book sweetheart, I want to recreate those scenes with you.” Where your kind and caring husband Leon comes home early from a mission and surprises you by building a private in-home library as you were starting to run out of space to keep your precious books and wants to recreate your favourite scenes from your favourite authors.

Word Count: 3.7k

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Ada's Version.

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Using your teeth to pull open the bottle cap top of the ice cold orange juice, you took a few huge mouthfuls as you waited for the stop light to turn green, the drink was cold and refreshing causing a shiver to run though your body as you placed the bottle on the passenger's seat. Today you were coming back from annual and yearly no boyfriends or husbands girls vacation weekend you and your best friend always planned since you were in high school.

The trip started out innocently just spending the day at the spa getting your nails done and relaxing, to only end up going clubbing last night and dancing on the table to when I grow up by the pussycat dolls in 6 inch stiletto heels. As much as you loved the girls' vacation and letting loose for a couple days, you couldn’t wait to get home and curl up next to your husband, with a spicy enemies to lovers book with your dog Ace cuddled into your side.

Ace is an old German shepherd that is also an ex police dog whose owner was killed in the line of duty, the poor dog was so confused on why his owner and handler didn’t come back, he would wait for his older owner to return, as time went on Ace grew more and more depressed he refused to work with anybody else or be social with other dogs.

It go so bad that the police department thought it would be better to put Ace up for adoption and hope he would find a loving forever home but Ace just stayed in his kennel hiding away, he refused to eat and would growl at anybody who came near him.

That was until he met your husband of 8 years Leon who was looking for a dog that could protect you while he was away on missions, but also he could play around with at the park or at home when he had time off, the moment the two of them meet they were inseparable and Leon rushed to adopt him that day and after waiting for a week you both welcomed Ace into your little family and you both became the dogs whole world.

Always coming for cuddles and acting like a huge baby even letting you put Leon’s sunglasses on him and take pictures, it filled your heart with so much joy when Ace started putting on weight and started looking healthier.

Then you have your sweet little Oreo who was just your average black cat with white little paws and little face markings with one marking on her chest that looks like a heart, she was a stray when you first found her huddled in a small box on a stormy night outside your mom’s bakery, she was so small and fragile you didn’t think she would make it through the night, she was really skinny and her fur was matted to her skin nearly, she must of been abandoned at a very young age which broke your heart.

She had no collar and no microchip so it was pointless trying to find her old owners. So that night you wrapped her up in your warm woolly scarf and took her home, where both you and Leon very gently brushed her fur, clipped her nails and gave her some food and water after you asked Leon to get some kitten food before you got home. She warmed up to you both but she mostly stuck to your side always wanting cuddles and pets.

You ended up adopting her a few days later after she passed all the vet checks and got her vaccinations, she was a little cautious of Leon since he smelt like Ace, but Ace was a good boy and let Oreo get used to him, even if it meant he got bit and clawed at a few times but slowly they became friends, then even shared Ace’s bed on cold nights and play with their toys with each other.

When the stoplight finally turned green you started driving down the main highway listening to the music that softly played in your car, distracting you from the slightly throbbing pain in your head from your dull hangover. The drive home was quick and you pulled into your garage within 10 minutes, the throbbing in your head subsided and you didn't feel as bad but you where really hungry.

Getting out you grabbed your bag and started heading inside to where you could hear Ace happily barking at the front door, you could even hear his tippy tappy paws, it caused you to smile thinking somebody was excited that you were home.

“Hey Baby.” You say happily after opening the front door, Ace was running around your legs, his tail wagging so fast it was almost like a dark blur as he was barking, it was so sweet, you heard Oreo meow from the small table by the door as if she was saying welcome home, putting your bag down you kneeled down and started petting ace and gave Oreo’s head a soft kiss.

“Yes yes I missed you guys too.” you say as Oreo rubbed her face on your cheek and Ace was nuzzling into your hand. “Where you talking to me sweetheart.” Your husband Leon says with a soft chuckle, causing you to look at him wide eyed before running over and hugging Leon tightly. “Your back early.” you say happily wrapping your arms around his neck, his large arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body closer to him.

“Surprise.” he says as you nuzzle into his chest, you were so glad your husband was home in one piece. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whined softly hitting his shoulder causing him to laugh before he grabbed your smaller hand in his larger one. “Because I have a surprise for you.” he hints as he starts walking down the hallway of your house, you were a little confused but you followed your husband anyway.

Soon you found yourself outside your storage room, it was a spare bedroom you and Leon used for storage since it was pretty spacious and you didn't really use it, pulling out a key from his pocket Leon slid the key into lock and softly popped open the door. “Go inside.” Leon says, by his tone you could tell he was excited for you to see his surprise, pushing the door open you gasped softly, your one messy and chaotic storage room was turned into an in-home library.

There was black floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with your books and some new ones you recognized, there was also a small wooden ladder that travel down the bookshelves, a fluffy rug on the ground, your window seat was decorated with comfy pillows and a blanket, there was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with a container with bookmarks, colorful page tabs, highlighters fine tip pens, and a blackberry and guava scented candle accompanied by a box of matches, in the far right conner was a little coffee and tea station where you could make a hot drink and cozy up with one of your books, The room felt warm and cozy, you could feel your eyes tearing up at the sight.

“Leon…” you say quietly, your voice cracking slightly, you looked up at your husband teary eyed to which he softly cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. “Happy valentines day, I wanted you to have a place for all your books since they were kind of taking over the house.” he says with a chuckle as he rested his forehead on yours as his rough thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek, it would explain the black paint smudge on his face.

“I love you so much.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve Leon. “Not as much as I love you sweetheart.” he says as he gives your hips a slight squeeze.

Later That Night

You where cozied up in your little library reading one of the new books Leon had purchased you, it was a spicy romance novel that has a few dark twists, just as you were about to turn to the next page your library door opened and saw Leon was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest he must of come back from his night run with Ace.

When your gaze met his there was a soft and gentle look in his baby blue eyes as he took in the sight of you reading your book, the soft light of the lamp casting a warm glow on your skin, to him you where Leon’s little slice of heaven from the rest of the chaos in his world.

“What's this book about?” Leon asked with curiosity as he walked into your library and rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling the side of your face. “A spicy forbidden romance between a DEA agent and a criminal mastermind.” you tell him with a small giddy look on your face, it was no secret that you had an ‘interest’ in forbidden romances but Leon was no stranger to that.

“Do you like a man in uniform?” he mumbled deeply in your ear as he started to press soft kisses to your neck, a soft sigh left your lips as you bit your bottom lip.

“You know I do.” you say as your eyes flutter closed enjoying the loving affection from your husband, your book now just a passing thought. “How about you put your book down and get that pretty little ass upstairs.” Leon suggests against your ear, his voice a few octaves deeper causing you to squeeze your thighs slightly, you felt one of his hands make its way from your hip up your stomach and chest before he wrapped his fingers around your neck and gave it a light squeeze causing a soft whine to leave your lips.

“Okay.” you say looking up at him through your lashes, releasing your neck he placed an innocent kiss on your forehead before you started making your way to your shared bedroom upstairs.

Once you made it to your shared bedroom you could hear Leon doing something downstairs, but you just went and waited on your bed for him with your hands in your lap, after a couple moments you could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the steps “he must be wearing his boots.” you thought and when he came into view all the moisture in your mouth evaporated, thighs squeezed together and your pussy clenched.

There Leon stood in his work clothing which consisted of a navy blue short sleeve top that was tight around his biceps, dark grey cargo jeans and black combat boots, but what really caught your eyes was the grey tactical vest that was strapped around his front and back. You felt yourself gulping slightly as you looked at your husband up and down, “I’m in danger.” you thought but you couldn’t help but be excited.

“Like what you see doll?” Leon asked, there was a slight tease in his tone as he walked over to you and gently grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, you nodded your head not trusting your voice as you nuzzled your face into his hand, hearing a soft chuckle you felt Leon gently tug your face up before he gently kissed you, his lips were warm and soft his kiss gentle and sweet.

Feeling his hand move away from your chin you felt him start to strip you of your oversized shirt that was clearly his, only breaking the kiss for a second to tug his your shirt off then tossing it on the ground before reconnecting your lips again, you feel back onto your plush bed one of his knees in between your legs as he hovered over you.

Your fingers found their way into his dark hair and gently tugged on his roots, earning you a soft groan from your husband as he tugged your leggings off your legs leaving you in your bra and panties. When Leon finally broke the kiss you looked up at each other breathing heavily, nothing but love and affection swimming in both your eyes for each other.

One of his gloved hands rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip sticking your tongue out slightly you ran it up the front of his glove before taking his gloved thumb into your mouth and gently sucking.

“And you say I'm a tease princess.” Leon groaned, cheekily you gently bit his thumb and your teeth leaving a little imprint in his glove, before you leaned up and kissed him then used your strength to push Leon over onto the other side of the bed then straddle his waist, you felt his eyes on you but you where on a mission you wanted to pay Leon back for the library and the thoughtfulness then went into the idea.

You unclipped his tactical vest and placed on the ground be your bed before you trailed gentle kisses down his clothed chest and stomach as your hands worked on unbutton his pants and tugging them down his legs leaving him in his underwear.

When you finally reached the top of his underwear that had a wet patch, you gently tugged them down revealing his hard cock that was leaking precum everywhere, you looked up at Leon as if to ask permission Leon nodded his head and ran his fingers through your hair and held it in a makeshift ponytail so your hair didn’t get in your eyes.

Smiling soft you let your tongue run up the side before you wrapped your lips around the tip and slowly began to bob your head you could feel every vein and ridge, he was heavy on your tongue but there was a small comfort, you made yourself at home placing your hands on his muscular thighs as you set a smooth pace.

Slowly bobbing your head occasionally he would hit the back of your throat, causing tears to prick your eyes but you blinked them away quickly.

Above you could hear Leon groaning and giving you soft praises of “such a good girl” and “feels so good darling.” the praise sent heat to your cheeks and kept you going, you wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to be his good girl.

You could feel your jaw was being to hurt slightly when your suddenly pulled off, breathing heavily saliva coating your slightly swollen lips a soft whine leaving your throat as you looked at your husband with a pout, he was breathing heavily his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Want to make you feel good too.” Leon says before you can think about what he said he pulls your lower half over his face, his stubble tickling the inside of your thighs, you could feel his warm breath on the wet patch of your panties causing you to clench around nothing and a soft whine to leave your lips.

When you felt him move your panties to the side and his tongue ran up your folds, a soft moan left your lips as you slightly arched your back. You could feel the heat running through your body as he feasted on you, as if he was in his own little world with his tongue deep inside you.

Feeling his wrap his arms around your hips to keep you in place, you went back to giving him the same pleasure, your pillowy lips wrapping around his cock again and bobbing your head at a steady pace with your cheeks slightly sucked in.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, you pulled away slightly and swirled your tongue around his tip causing his hips to jolt slightly you knew he was close, but so where you as your thighs shook slightly around his head.

“Fuck doll cumming.” Leon groaned before you pushed him all the way down your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks at the sudden intrusion but you ignored the pain as your throat muscles tightened around him.

Leon came down your throat with a deep groan and even slightly bucked his hips, you soon followed and came with a loud moan, pulling away slightly you breathed heavily and wiped your mouth. Leon was breathing heavily but there was a huge grin on his face as he moved so now he was hovering over you.

“Another round princess?” he asked as he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a silver square, you could barely pull a thought together but you nodded your head and let your husband position you how he wanted, lucky this time you were laid on your stomach with a pillow under your hips, your head resting against your pillow and soft hum leaving your lips as you where in a comfortable position.

You heard the sound of the condom packet being torn open and the lid of a lube bottle being cracked opened, it wasn’t that you weren't used to Leon’s size but sometimes it made it more comfortable, you heard the sound of the rest of his clothes hit the ground beside the bed as he stripped off, he even carefully took your soaked panties off and tossed them onto the pile of his clothes.

“Cold.” you whined softly as a shiver went down your spine, you felt Leon placed a small blob over your slit and gently rub it in. “I know sweetheart, you'll warm up soon princess I promise.” Leon says before you felt him at your entrance, you closed your eyes and waited for the familiar stretch, a soft moan left your lips as he slowly pushed in being careful and soon bottomed out a soft groan leaving both of your lips as you felt each other.

“Fuck.” you cursed as you placed your face into your pillow, no matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms you with how good he makes you feel.

“Are you ok?” Leon asked when you felt him gently kiss your shoulder, when he was this gentle with you it made your heart skip a beat, you nodded your head and gave him a smile as you leaned up and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m ok but I do have one request?” you say when you notice he is still wearing the gloves on his hands, you saw him glance between you and his hands a small smirk on his face as he already knew what you were asking him for, moving his arm his bicep wrapped snug around your neck giving a soft squeeze Leon began to thrust slowly, teasingly but you here in heaven with his bicep around your neck.

“Such a dirty little girl, do you like it when I choke you? Deprive you of oxygen until you nearly pass out.” Leon asked his tone was mean and nasty as the pace of his thrusts picked up, your brain was going fuzzy you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

You loved it when Leon was your kind and sweet husband but deep deep down a part of you liked it when he was mean and dominant, it made you feel so small being under him, his body towering over yours, his muscles and strength double if not triple then yours and it was such a turn on.

“Yes I do.” you choked out as you looked up at your husband, there was a smirk on his face as he thrusted into your soaked pussy, your gummy walls sucking him in and never wanting him to leave.

“Open.” he demanded and you opened your mouth without hesitation then you felt Leon spit into your mouth making you feel even dirtier, but you loved it and grinned up at him almost as if you were a crazed woman, you swallowed before you opened your mouth again and stick out your tongue.

“Fuck I love you so much.” Leon groaned his voice deeper as he tightened his bicep around your neck, causing small spots to come into your version. You knew your safe word but you didn’t want to use it, this feeling felt like pure ecstasy and you were floating. “You close darling?” you heard Leon ask and you nodded your head feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach.

“Yes.” you choked out in between moans, your thighs were trembling and your head was feeling foggy. “Cumming.” you cry out as you let out a high pitch moan and came around Leon, you felt him soon follow. After a couple minutes you slowly felt him pull out then discard the used condom in the rubbish.

an hour later

You were freshly showered and dressed in one of Leon’s shirts and a pair of panties, you both were relaxing in bed cuddled into Leon with Ace sleeping in his dog bed next to the window and Oreo resting and purring in between you and Leon.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” you heard Leon asked as he was tracing his thumb on your hip bone under his shirt you were wearing. “No, you were perfect as always.” you say you press a kiss to the top of his bare chest that had a few old scars, this caused him to smile and pull you closer to him being careful of Oreo as he doesn’t want to be attacked by her again.

“Happy Valentine's Day doll.” Leon says as he kisses your head and makes sure both you and Oreo are comfortable on the bed, “Happy Valentine's Day honey.” you say as you leaned up and softly kissed him, grateful to have a husband as kind, caring and gentle as Leon….

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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star-sim · 10 months ago

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you've got to be kitten me! ☆ jungwon yang

☆ class president! jungwon x troublemaker! fem! reader ☆ summary: jungwon yang, the stuck-up class president, had a secret: at night, he transformed into a cat. when you, the class's residential troublemaker (and one of the people that jungwon simply couldn't bring himself to understand), accidentally discovered his secret, jungwon found himself questioning his role in the school hierarchy. ☆ genre: fluff!!!! highschool! au, classmates to friends to lovers!!! very silly supernatural occurances, follows the asian school system btw, jungwon is lowk a loser and kinda assholey at the beginning ☆ warning(s)? this is very silly!! minor violence (toward animals) ☆ word count: 15.8k ☆ this isn't my usual writing style, or even my usual progression of events, but i was rlly inspired by those old shoujo animes so i tried to emulate certain features common in that genre! lmk what u think! btw it's not edited, i will go back and edit later but rn i'm j tired lol enjoy!

There were two things that Jungwon Yang hated:

Troublemakers, and teachers that talked too much.

Unfortunately, he was now sitting in a room with both types of people.

"You know why you're here right, [Name]?"

[Name] [Last Name]. You were the class’s relentless troublemaker. He’d known you since elementary and middle school, and you’ve always been the same. Brusque, aggressive, and a little too happy to use your fists.

Jungwon and you were in the same year, and he was the class president. Currently, the class advisor, Jungwon, and you were seated in your shared homeroom class after school.

Simply put, you've been causing trouble for the past few weeks, whether it be arguing with teachers or other classmates. Initially, the class advisor decided that although you were causing trouble, it was barely disruptive.

Until today. When you punched a classmate, a guy named Jiho Jang, in the face.

You leaned back in your chair, rolling your eyes. Your gaze hardened, before you let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As Class President, it was Jungwon's job to collaborate with the class advisor to enforce school rules and punish those that failed to adhere to them. His lips curled at your sheer lack of regard for anything around you. It was annoying how you broke every rule in the book, prancing around like you owned the place. Why was it so difficult to just not cause trouble?

"Jungwon, what do you think?"

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, "I think [Name] broke a rule—" you cocked a brow at him, but he ignored you, "By assaulting another student, she should be punished for it, shouldn't she?"

Being the Class President, Jungwon had learned to be well-spoken and level-headed, but sometimes, it was utterly difficult to keep a diplomatic attitude. Because although he disliked people that caused trouble, he disliked teachers that talked a lot just as much.

The class advisor went on talking for a few more minutes, using many words but truly saying nothing. Jungwon learned how to make it look like he was listening when he really wasn't, nodding his head and smiling mindlessly.

God, just shut up, he wanted to blurt, but he caught himself.

Meanwhile, you clearly did not give a fuck. You looked at your nails, yawned, rolled your eyes, put your feet on the table. You even let out a very loud exasperated sigh. It was almost laughable the way you didn’t care, to the point that Jungwon almost caught himself letting out a laugh at your clear and abject expressiveness.

"Well, Jungwon, as class president," the advisor finally finished her long and drawn-out speech about school rules, "What do you think [Name]'s punishment should be?"

"Punishment?" It wasn't like Jungwon didn't punish people for breaking rules, but for him to punish someone directly felt so foreign to him. "Well, [Name] explained that she did what she did today in defense of another student, and there's evidence to back her up." Jungwon glanced at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. "So, I think we should give her lunch detention for a week."

Jungwon disliked you. No, he disliked your behavior. But as the President, he was fair. You had thorough evidence to back you up, so he decided on a punishment that reflected on your circumstances.

Except, the advisor audibly reacted. "Ooh, I don't know about that."

Jungwon's brows furrowed. That was a more than reasonable punishment. "Why not?"

"None of the teachers are available to sit in for lunch detention this or next week," the advisor explained. "What about suspension for a week?"

Suspension wasn't even remotely similar to lunch detention!

"No!" Jungwon blurted. When he realized his outburst, Jungwon felt his ears burn. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I feel like a suspension is too extreme of a punishment."

His eyes flickered over to you.

You better thank me, he thought.

"If it's possible, I don't mind administrating lunch detention this week and next week, since none of the teachers are available."

The class advisor stayed silent for a few moments, before collecting her papers in a neat stack, and shoving it into her desk. "Very well, then." She turned to you. "[Name], you will have lunch detention starting tomorrow. Jungwon will be administrating it."

Then, you were dismissed. Jungwon had to stay back for a few minutes to discuss other class plans with the advisor, before leaving himself. By the time Jungwon walked out of the school building, the sun was beginning to set. However, as he walked out into the school courtyard, he spotted you.

You stood alone under a plum blossom tree. The pink-yellow flowers, now beginning to blossom as winter flew by, were sprawled across the ground, and your shoes, covered in dirt from the early-spring rain, trampled all over them with little regard. As you always did.

And, before he knew it, Jungwon was walking toward you.

It was common courtesy, at least for him, to greet whoever he saw.

"[Name]!" he called out, lips moving faster than his mind. Your head whipped over to him, quirking a brow.

"Hi?" you looked at him with suspicion.

He couldn't blame you. Jungwon and you were on completely different spectrums of the school social hierarchy. Jungwon was well-known with a clean reputation, and you were infamous at least and a delinquent at most. It wasn't like he had never interacted with you before, but those interactions were few and far between.

"... Did you need something?" You almost looked irritated that he was talking to you. Were you incapable of at least pretending like you cared?

"I just, " Jungwon had to admit, your gaze was intimidating. He’d heard rumors of you beating up kids that tried to talk to you, and although they were a little ridiculous, Jungwon wanted to be cautious. But, when words came to mind, his wobbly lips formed a soft, forced, smile. "I just wanted to say, I thought it was cool that you punched Jiho today."

When you only stared at him incredulously, Jungwon continued.

"Like, It was cool that you were trying to defend someone, and I thought that Jiho really deserved it," Jungwon added. "I'm sorry about the detention thing."

He was being partially truthful. Of course, Jiho had it coming. Anyone that picked on underclassmen were just shitty, but cool to use violence against him? Maybe not. It was the first word that came to his mind.

A few silent pulses passed, and Jungwon shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Thanks?" you said slowly, your expression painted with confusion— because why was the Class President praising you for assaulting someone? "Um, I don't think you need to apologize."

Jungwon nodded, his fake smile still painted across his cheeks, ready to spill more courteous words at you.

"You were just doing your job— Hey, are you okay?"

A sudden fuzzy feeling at the back of Jungwon’s head pierced through him. Almost like a switch had turned off inside him, Jungwon was suddenly wobbly on his feet, his eyes looking cloudy and dazed, rolling back in his head.

"Hey, Jungwon—" you grabbed his arm to hold him upright, your brows crashing together. "Jungwon, are you okay?"

Jungwon's knees felt weak, his head full of static. When his eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, it was a dark, gray-blue mixed with orange.

Shit, he should have kept track of the time. For someone who prided himself for how responsible he was, Jungwon had to admit that he was a little stupid right now. As Jungwon slowly slipped out of consciousness, his mind raced. No, no, no. He did not want this to happen right now, not in front of you.

You freaked out, frantically holding onto him. Why was Jungwon Yang practically fainting on you?

All of a sudden, a big puff of smoke appeared. As you coughed, using your hand to wave away the smoke, you noticed that Jungwon's shoulders were no longer in his hands. In fact, his entire person disappeared from in front of you.

When the smoke cleared, Jungwon was no longer with you. Instead, there was just a pile of his clothes before your feet.

"Jungwon?" you asked, bewildered out of your mind. "Hey, Jungwon, what the fuck just"

Meow!

Did something just meow-

Meeeeowwww!

From under the pile of clothes, a small, black cat poked its head out. Your jaw dropped, panic overtaking your system.

The cat let out another meow, before it began inching toward you. Out of sheer panic, you took many steps back, letting out a small yelp of fear.

"Stay back, cat!" you cried.

Meeeeowwww! the cat meowed at you, only inching closer to you. Each step it took toward you, you stepped back, until your back was pressed against the tree.

Who could blame you? Jungwon Yang just disappeared into thin air before your eyes, only to leave a cat! How could you not be afraid of that cat?

However, instead of killing you (or whatever you thought would happen if the cat got too close), the cat only pawed at your shoe. It let out another meow, but this time a much softer one. It continued to paw at your shoe, meowing profusely like it was trying to tell you something.

You watched it in disbelief.

You've seen many cats before, it wasn't like seeing a cat was some rarity to you. Just... where the hell did Jungwon go?

Experimentally, you reached out to touch the cat, only for it to jump away from you. You blinked at it. You and the cat stared at each other for a few moments, before it seemed to let out a small huff and stepped toward you. You reached out to it again, and this time, it didn’t jump away. You picked up the cat, holding up to your face so that it was at eye-level.

"Hey, kitty," you gently said, a small frown painting itself on your lips. You pet its soft, black fur, your fingers gracing its ears. Looking around, you bring the cat closer to your face. "Do you know where Jungwon went?"

Meow! was all you got in response, making you frown even more. You gently rubbed your thumb over its nose and soft, black fur.

"Did you take him, kitty?" you wondered, more to yourself than anything. When the cat only meowed, you couldn't help but crack a grin. You booped its nose, before cradling it in your arms.

You glanced at the pile of Jungwon's clothes a few inches away from you. You looked around, for any sign of him or anyone at all, before sighing to yourself. You crouched down, placing the cat down, too. You neatly folded the pile of clothes, tucking it under your arm. You picked up the cat once more, scanned the courtyard, and started your way home.

Despite what a lot of people liked to think, you were actually gentle. But only sometimes.

There were some perks to living alone, hundreds of miles away from your family. One of them was that you could bring home whatever animal you wanted, and no one could stop you.

On your way home from school, you decided that you'd keep the cat, whom you named Kong-ee (since its nose looked like a bean). How could you not? It was so tiny, and soft, and cute. Every time you rubbed its cheek, it let out a small meow. When you kissed it on the head, it started meowing profusely. It was so adorable!

If anyone at school saw you right now, they'd think they were dreaming.

You, that one mean and rough girl, playing with a little cat? You, not screaming and fighting every three seconds? Impossible!

You cracked a grin to yourself as you thought about the events that transpired earlier. Jiho Jang was picking on some underclassman, so you gave him a little nudge. When that didn't work, you punched him square in the nose. As you unlocked the door to your apartment, you thought back to how the school administrators reacted. For some reason, it felt like they favored Jiho over you, seeming to take his side before you even explained yourself.

You placed the cat down on your bed.

"Stay here, okay, kitty?" you gently pet Kong-ee. The cat stared at you with its large, feline eyes, and you laughed, kissing its cheek. The high-pitched meow it let out was cute, so you booped its nose again. "I'm gonna go run you a bath, 'kay?"

As you set your things down to run the bath, you suddenly remembered your Class President, Jungwon Yang.

It seemed like among everyone involved in the situation, he was the only one that was fair. You appreciated him reiterating that fact that you were, in fact, acting in defense of another student, and you could tell that he was trying to give you a gentler punishment. However, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he disliked you. He had this weird attitude, one where he seemed to think of himself as superior to you. You could tell that he didn’t like you, probably because of your ‘troublemaker’ reputation.

Come to think of it, have you ever spoken to him? Sure, you went to the same elementary and middle school as him, but you swore that you've never really spoken to him. You still had no idea what happened to him earlier. He just randomly disappeared from the face of the earth. You still had his clothes, which you threw into the washing machine.

You didn't think of him any more for the rest of the night.

"Kong-ee," you cooed as you poured warm water over the cat's head. For a cat, Kong-ee was very calm in water. You muttered to yourself, "So cute,"

After drying Kong-ee, you went to eat dinner, study, and at last, go to bed.

You didn't have a bed for Kong-ee, and you didn't move a lot when you slept, so you just let the little cat lay on your chest. The warmth of the cat was like an extra blanket anyway.

Your eyes felt heavy, so you were fast asleep just minutes after your head hit the pillow.

Jungwon thought he was a pretty smart guy.

But right now, he was absolutely stupid.

He completely didn't take into account the fact that during winter, nighttime came much quicker. He was so distracted by school duties that he totally forgot his curse.

That's right. Curse.

About a week ago, Jungwon was hit with some curse, where every day, the moment that the sun began to set, he would transform into a cat. He'd only turn back to human when the sun rose the next morning. These past few days, Jungwon had been leveeing excuse after excuse about why he couldn't attend a certain event, or why his homework was done so quickly.

Yesterday, even when he should have been running home because he was literally about to transform into a cat, he decided to go talk to you instead.

And now there he was, still in his cat form, laying on you, that one girl from class that couldn’t follow a rule to save her life.

As a cat last night, he decided that he’d escape out your window the moment you fell asleep. However, your apartment was many stories high, and he couldn’t fight off his feline instinct to snuggle up into something warm. So there he was, laying next to your sleeping face.

In his cat form, Jungwon could see your alarm clock. These days, sunrise was around 7AM, and it was 6:57. Just a few more minutes, and he should transform back into human. Hopefully, he won't wake you up.

Jungwon's plan was the moment that he transformed back into his human form, he would take his clothes (the one that you picked up and washed yesterday), and leave. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. Hopefully, you’d forget all about this, and his life would resume.

Meanwhile, Jungwon observed your sleeping face. It was weird. You usually had a scowl on your face, but your sleeping face was completely peaceful. He’d never seen you so… calm. In fact, last night was probably the most normal he’d ever seen you. Jungwon always kind of expected you to be rough with everything, but the way you treated him as a cat was almost… kind of nice?

With his paw, Jungwon gently touched your face, a small meow escaping his mouth. Your lunch detention started today, so he’d have to spend his next few lunches stuck in a room with you. He dreaded it. He had other things he wanted to do, even though he was the one to suggest that he administrated–

Poof!

With a puff of smoke, Jungwon transformed back into his human form. Except, he was now naked, sprawled on top of you.

Quickly, though with wobbly feet, he stumbled over to the clean folded stack of his clothes.

Just as he was finished putting on his pants, reaching for his shirt, Jungwon heard a shrill scream.

He whipped his head around to see you, staring at him horrified.

Oh.

Shit.

The last thing you expected was to wake up to a shirtless Jungwon Yang in your room.

"What the fuck are you—" you, still groggy, pulled your comforter over your shoulders, suddenly feeling exposed— "Jungwon, what the fuck? What are you doing here?!"

The boy only stared at you with eyes as wide as saucers, jaw dropped. It was only when you began throwing pillows and plushies at him that he began to get defensive.

"W-Wait, [Name]!" he staggered over to you, amidst the slew of pillows being projected at him. "[Name], let me explai— Ow!"

"Get out, Jungwon!" you shouted, hurling nearly every object on your bed at him. Simply for the reason that your Class President was literally half naked in your room, your face felt warm. With anger. "Get out, get out, get out— Oof!"

Behold, Jungwon tripped over one of the pillows as he floundered over to you, leading him to fall right on top of you on your bed.

A moment of thick silence engulfed your bedroom as the two of you stared at each other. Jungwon's cheeks flared. It was absolutely over for him now.

With a rough, but flighty, hand, you pushed his chest off of you with a scowl.

"Get off," you grumbled, shoving him again.

"Right..." Jungwon quickly pulled away from you. He sat at the edge of your bed, his head hanging low. His entire neck and face were red with embarrassment and shame. You probably thought he was a creep, a pervert, a weirdo! Would you tell people at school? He could already hear the rumors: “Class President Jungwon Yang is a freak!”

"Well, aren't you going to explain yourself?" you nudged him harshly with your foot. You still covered yourself with your blanket, looking at him with the most hostility that he'd ever seen from you.

"Wait a minute," you muttered to yourself. You shifted around your bed, feeling around your comforter. "Where's Kong-ee?"

Jungwon let out a nervous laugh.

"About that...."

(Long story short, you grabbed Jungwon by his shoulders, and said, "You're lucky that you were cute as a cat, because I was considering kicking your ass.")

Honestly, you thought Jungwon was a little weird, if not snobby. If you were asked how you felt about him a few hours ago, you would have said that he was a little self-important. But after the fiasco this morning, the only word you had to properly describe him was strange.

You supposed that you couldn't blame him. He didn't choose to be cursed into a cat, and he most definitely didn't choose for you to take him home. It was just a little embarrassing that the entire time, the cute cat that you were excited to take care of was just your Class President that probably hated you. It made you squirm a little bit.

After Jungwon gave you a (very thorough and evidence-based) explanation, you kicked him out and got ready for school as you always did.

When you got to school, you couldn't bring yourself to meet Jungwon's gaze, and luckily, it seemed like he couldn't either. You weren't shy, and you weren't the type to get actually flustered, but you felt a twinge of humiliation.

Why, of all people, did it have to be the guy that you were spending your lunch detention with?

In fact, as you sat in lunch detention, there was a thick tension in the air. It was just you and Jungwon in an empty classroom, completely silent save for the sound of chattering and people talking from the other rooms down the hall.

You were supposed to be doing homework, or something, but you preferred staring out the window. Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungwon sitting at the teacher desk, writing something out.

Minutes passed and you were getting bored. Normally, you were perfectly fine with getting lost in that head of yours, but for some reason, today all your thoughts were just... stale.

"Yah," you suddenly said, directed at Jungwon. The boy's head immediately shot up. "What are you doing right now?"

"Writing..." he answered curtly. His expression was awkward, very different from his usual composed face, the one that he used when he ordered people around. You tried not to show your discomfort on your face, but Jungwon was just an open book.

"I'm bored."

He blinked at you owlishly, before narrowing his eyes. "Well, do you want a book?"

You groaned, leaning back against your chair and throwing your head back. If this was how lunch detention was going to be for the rest of the week, you'd die.

Jungwon watched you silently. He let out a sigh, before setting his pen down. He picked up the papers that he was just writing on, holding it up to his face so that he could read it.

"Jungwoo and Sullyoon." You shot him a questioning look, and he continued. "Liz and Minji."

"What the hell are you saying?" you questioned.

Jungwon held up the papers; on them were elaborate charts with many columns. It was a list of some sort.

"It's the beginning of the month," Jungwon began. "I have to make a schedule for who's on cleaning duty."

You cocked a brow at him, making him continue.

"I might be the president, but I don't know a lot of our classmates well," the boy's feline-like eyes fluttered over to you. "I'm having trouble making the pairs. I don't know who gets along with who."

He stared at you for a few pulses, almost like he was asking you to help him. You finally huffed, rolling your eyes. You pulled a chair over to where Jungwon was sitting, plopping down. This was better than doing homework.

"All right then," you snatched the paper. You scanned the list, your nose crinkling at some of Jungwon's choices. "Why would you put Bae with Aran?"

Jungwon’s brows crashed together, just by the way you seemed so indignant about his choices.

"I don't know," Jungwon shrugged, unable to hide the slight offense on his face. "I thought they were friends."

"Nah," you sucked in a sharp, exasperated breath. "Bae was trying to get with Aran's boyfriend, so Bae and her friends jumped her."

The way it came out so casually from your lips was almost laughable.

"Ouch."

"And why would you put Jihan and Rei together?"

"Why, are they not friends?"

"No, because Rei is friends with Liz, and Jihan hates Liz."

"Well, what about Rei and Hikaru?"

You groaned, punching Jungwon in the arm. "I'm actually gonna kick your ass."

Out of nowhere, completely out of character, Jungwon couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. There was something so laughable about you, of all people, knowing the business of your classmates, and not him, the literal president. It was almost ironic, the way you seemed to be so passionate about the ongoings of the classroom. He immediately clamped his hand over his mouth the moment you shot him a glare, but he was unable to swallow another laugh.

"Yah, laugh again and I'll actually do it."

Jungwon let out another laugh. You grabbed his forearm, softly punching his shoulder again. The way your lips jutted out, the gloss on them shining under the light, was too much for Jungwon to handle. For someone so tough and violent, you looked so petulant, almost like a child, when you were angry. Your brows furrowing like caterpillars and the way your lips parted in offense was his favorite part.

You stood up abruptly, grabbing Jungwon's collar and pulling him up with you. Your lips pulled together in what could only be called a frown.

"You're so annoying," you grumbled, tightening your grip around his collar. "Kill yourself."

Jungwon's lips pulled upward to reveal his sharp canine teeth.

"Sorry," he said with a smile. It was weird, the way that it was a genuine smile, as opposed to the fake one that he found himself giving out.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time that day, but you loosened your hold on his collar. When he let out another small laugh again, you raised your fist at him. It was supposed to be purely threatening, you weren't actually going to punch him. And Jungwon could tell, just by the look on your face.

But that was when the worst possible person walked into the detention room: the class advisor.

"[Name] [Last Name], are you trying to assault the Class President?!"

And that's how you got after school detention, too. Administrated by the one and only Class President himself.

"Look, [Name], I'm sorry—"

"It's whatever."

And it really was whatever.

No matter how many times Jungwon explained with the advisor and administrators, they all wouldn’t believe them. He clarified seemingly hundreds of times that you, in fact, were not trying to beat him up. Still, they wouldn’t listen. Because he was the president, they simply assumed that Jungwon was defending you to not cause trouble.

You appreciated his efforts, you really did. The way his face scrunched with frustration as he let out a deep, exasperated sigh was enough for you.

“It isn’t whatever,” Jungwon ran a hand through his dark locks, huffing. “It’s unfair.”

Now the two of you were back in that detention room. You were sitting down, bored, while Jungwon paced around. He couldn’t say that he liked you, but he couldn’t stand for something so utterly ridiculous.

"It's not a big deal," you seemed more unbothered than Jungwon was. When he looked at you with a pinched expression, you sighed. "I really mean it, it's not a big deal."

Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip pensively. "But they're not being fair."

You shrugged. "This isn't the first time that it's happened, you know."

When the boy frowned, you continued. "Sometimes, the administrative system is kinda fucked. It's just something we hafta accept."

Jungwon's nose scrunched, before he made his way over to where you were sitting. He stood at the edge of your desk before you, his fingers tapping anxiously. He studied your face: your expression was painted with sincere and utter indifference. You didn't care. But he did.

"I'm serious," you noticed the uneasiness on his face. "Just let it go, Jungwon."

"It's just..." he breathed, "I'm the President, aren't I supposed to be the one with a louder voice? Why won't they listen to me?"

You gazed at his face.

Jungwon Yang, the Class President. He’d always seemed snobby, but he was surprisingly earnest. There was an essence of naivete in him, a sort of innocence and optimism that you couldn't shake off. Jungwon was almost intense with the amount of conviction he had.

"Well," you finally said. Under the desk, you tapped your shoe against his. "We can't do anything about it now."

You brusquely got up, moving toward the teacher desk.

"B-But—"

You plopped down on the teacher chair, kicking back. "Are you going to let me help you with your presidential duties or what? I’m bored."

You looked at him, dead serious. You gestured to the papers sprawled across the desk. 'Well, aren't you going to join me?'your expression read.

Jungwon finally exhaled.

He couldn't argue with you.

Because like him, your conviction was just as strong. You were realistic, too realistic that it was almost painful. But the intensity in your judgment was not to be challenged.

"Fine."

You never expected Jungwon's presidential duties to be so tedious. But what was surprisingly unsurprising was Jungwon's crazy amount of effort. Of course he put every ounce of his energy into perfecting the class calendar or the class seating arrangements. Although you did help him, there were a few moments of complete silence, as Jungwon sat in deep thought trying to figure out how to approach a certain issue. His zeal was almost freakish.

You let out a yawn. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Time?" Jungwon perked up, glancing out the window. Shit. It should be sunset soon. Why does he keep losing track of the time? He began shuffling his papers together, shoving them into his school bag. "Shiiiit, I have to go now."

"Man, I feel like I've never heard you swear—" Realization hit you. "Oh, right."

You helped him put his things away, but it was too late. Within seconds, a puff of smoke already engulfed the room, leaving a pile of clothes, and a tiny black cat.

You groaned. Not again.

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You decided that you'd take Jungwon home with you once again. As you laid on your back in your bed, you held his cat form up carefully, yet your words were harsh.

"God, you're so stupid, Jungwon," you scolded him. "Does this happen a lot? Where you don't keep track of time and just transform out of nowhere?"

Jungwon let out a small meow, hanging his furry head in shame.

"Ughhh," you lamented. You gave the top of his head a small tap, equivalent to you hitting the back of his head if he was a human. "Do your parents know?"

Jungwon responded back with a bunch of meows, like he was trying to talk to you.

"Whatever," you tapped his nose with your knuckle. Normally, you’d probably recoil at the thought of being this close to your Class President, but because he was a cat, you couldn’t help the desire to smother him with love. You held Jungwon's face close to yours. You rubbed your nose against his, cooing at the small meows he let out. You chuckled. "You're so much cuter as a cat, you know that right?"

Jungwon meowed, his short paws extending out to touch your face. You grinned, leaning into his touch. "You're so annoying at school. So annoying that I thought about punching you once. But I like you more as a cat."

Meeooowww!

"Have you eaten yet?" you brushed his fur back, rubbing the spot behind his ears, earning a purrrr. Jungwon shook his head. Then, you scratched his chin. "Can you even eat human food?" Jungwon shook his head again.

"Fine," you muttered, more to yourself. "I'll go buy you cat food."

The walk to the convenience store was quiet, save for your coos at Jungwon. On Jungwon's end, he was ecstatic. Each time you kissed his head or babbled back in response to his little meows, Jungwon couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. It was weird, so weird, to see you be so… gentle, and loving, and caring. It was like a flip switched the moment you stepped out of school. Weren’t you supposed to be a delinquent? Why were you so tender? He hated it, he hated it so much. But now you were peppering his face with kisses, and Jungwon couldn’t resist leaning into your warm touch.

"Which one do you want, Jungwon?" You took him through the aisles, letting his small, black paws dictate what you'd buy.

"Are you serious? Salmon Gravy Poultry shreds?"

Jungwon meowed profusely, his paws flailing around almost offended. He couldn't control his feline cravings in his cat form! What did you expect him to choose, a Triple Dipple Mcdouble Wouble Hamburger?

You threw your head back, laughing at his cute frustration. You pinched Jungwon's nose, before going to the cash register.

That night, you sat with Jungwon wrapped in a blanket on your lap.

"You can still help me with my homework, right?" you said, petting Jungwon.

Meoooowww! was his response (as always), but the way his feline eyes squeezes into thin crescents, his mouth turning upwards, told you his answer was a very enthusiastic "Yes!"

You and Jungwon came up with a system.

One meow was yes, two meows were no.

It was safe to say that Jungwon let out many double meows in succession.

"Maybe I was wrong," you grasped his little paws like they were his hands. "You're still annoying as a cat."

Meow!

You giggled, before turning off your lights.

You gave Jungwon his own bed— a stack of pillows and blankets. You didn't want another incident, did you?

Oh. My. God.

It was past 7AM. The sun was up in the sky shining its yellow face so obnoxiously through the blinds.

However.

Jungwon was still a cat.

For the past week or so, he turned back into his human form the second the sun peeked through the clouds. But why not today? He had to figure this out before you woke up, or you might freak out, and that would make him freak out—

"Oh my god, Jungwon, why are you still a cat?!"

Long story short, you took him to school with you.

If Jungwon was a human, he would have refused profusely. Curse him and his tiny body, he had no way of refusing you.

And that's how Jungwon found himself stuffed in your pocket.

"Stop fussing!" you gently smacked the back of his head. "You're gonna get us caught!"

Meeowww! was all he could say. It was strange seeing the school through such a tiny lens. It didn't help that he felt like he was on a goddamn rollercoaster because for some reason, you decided to walk with a pep in your step today.

"Where's Jungwon? He's normally not late like this," Wonyoung Jang, the class's secretary asked just as you walked in. After a round of "I don't know's" it seemed like everyone suddenly remembered what (allegedly) happened yesterday: you assaulted him.

"Hey, [Name], did you do something to him?" someone asked. You shot them a questioning look. You ignored them, taking your seat in the back, being careful to not crush Jungwon.

"Yah, [Name]," one of the boys in your class (was his name Haruto, or something?) came up to your desk, slamming his hands down on your desk. "What did you do to Jungwon?"

You looked around the classroom— they had to be playing with you, right? Such a ridiculous accusation based on ridiculous evidence from the most ridiculous people.

"Uh. I didn't do anything...?" you answered sincerely, confusion strewn across your face.

"Hey, let's not lie, [Name]," Jinni, the class treasurer, smiled at you. "Just tell us the truth. What happened to Jungwon?"

"I don't know," you shrugged.

"You were the last person to see him yesterday," one of your classmates pointed out. "Something's fishy."

"Well, I don't know what you guys want me to say," you scowled. "I'm sorry, I guess? It's not really my business what goes on with him."

Before another person could join in, and most definitely escalate the situation, the bell rang, starting class.

Meanwhile, Jungwon internally frowned. Why was everyone so quick to accuse you? Sure, you got into scuffles, but they were being baseless with their accusations. All you did was walk in, and you were bombarded with questions. While class went on, he let out a soft meow, using his paw to touch your hand.

"Jungwon, what do you want?" you whisper-yelled at him.

Jungwon couldn't imagine what it would be like to have everyone see you with suspicion. When the teachers didn't believe him earlier, it was frustrating. He never considered how you felt. Your quick resignation to the flawed administrative system was upsetting.

Almost like he was trying to comfort you, another small meow came from him, his paw petting your hand.

You smiled gently, bonking him softly on the head, before turning back to the board.

As the day went by, Jungwon caught a real glimpse of what it was like to live like you.

From the pocket of your sweater, he could see the nasty glares that people sent you, simply for being in the same room as them. The way that people would scurry away from you, cower under your gaze like you were some kind of monster. Jungwon didn't know how anyone could endure that for much of their high school career. The more he watched you from your pocket, the more he could see your hard exterior cracking. You were genuine in that you didn't like people that much, but he could tell by the way that your lips twitched slightly, eyebrows knitting together for a split second as you wistfully watched groups of friends giggle together.

As lunchtime started, you slowly made your way to the detention room. That entire hall was mostly empty, probably because no one wanted to be near where you'd be.

You reached inside your pocket, your knuckle brushing against Jungwon's ears.

"Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish you were human right now," you said quietly to him. Jungwon meowed, rubbing his cheek against your finger. "I’m gonna be so bored."

As you cracked the detention room door open, you were met with a group of boys.

Of course you knew them. Everyone liked to lump you in with them, as "bangers," but anyone that understood who they were knew that you were far from their friend.

While you just caused trouble occasionally, they were actual delinquents.

"Hey there, [Name]," one of them grinned at you. You stopped at the doorway, narrowing your eyes at them. They never talked to you unless they wanted trouble.

"What do you want, Gyuvin?" you huffed. Jungwon from your pocket peeked his head out.

"We don't want anything from you, [Name]," another of them, Ricky Shen, took a step forward toward you. The rest of the boys followed suit, pulling you into the classroom and surrounding you.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. The way they were circling you certainly triggered your panic mode, but you swallowed it down, choosing to keep a hardened gaze instead.

"Right," you nodded slowly.

The next thing you knew, you were pushed to the ground with a yelp and thump! The way that the rest of them peered down at you condescendingly. You heard a small meow come from your pocket, so your hand shot to your pocket, your palm protectively cradling Jungwon.

"We're just bored, really," Gyuvin smiled, leaning down toward you. "Just wanted to see if this kitty bit back."

Silence enveloped the room as you glared up at them. You had to think fast. You honestly did not have the energy to put up a good fight right now, and you didn't want to. How could you evade this?

Your eyes shot around the room for some sort of escape. Unfortunately, there was only one: the door, and it was blocked by a few of the boys.

"Oh? What's that in your pocket?" It seemed like they noticed your hand clutching your pocket so firmly.

They yanked you up roughly by the arm, shoving their grubby hands into your pocket while others held your arms back.

"Hey!" you yelped, struggling against their grip. They're gonna find Jungwon!

Your worst fear came true. Gyuvin pulled out a thrashing Jungwon from your pocket. Even in his feline form, you could see the panic in his eyes. You tried to escape their grip, pulling away as hard as you could, but they overpowered you.

"What's this?" Gyuvin asked, a nasty grin on his face as he observed Jungwon.

"Give him back," you grumbled behind gritted teeth. You tried to pull away again, but it was no use. Gyuvin cocked a brow at you, before throwing Jungwon on the floor. Jungwon let out a small meow of pain, but as the boys approached him, he hissed loudly, his pupils dilated and his black fur standing up on his back.

Ricky glanced at you, making sure that you were watching, when he landed a kick at Jungwon.

"Jungwon!" you shouted, straining against the boys that held you back.

"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. You didn't want to fight. Jesus Christ, the last thing you wanted to do right now was fight. But you could not stand for this.

"Jungwon?" A smile was growing on Ricky's features. "Y'know, [Name], I thought that you murdered Mr. Class President or something. But it looks like you're obsessed with him more than anything."

Your hands balled into fists, biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood.

Assholes. That's what they all were.

It was Ricky's turn to land a kick on Jungwon.

That's when you had enough.

With all the force you could muster in your body, you stepped on the guys who held your foot. You didn't know how hard it was, but it was hard enough for them to loosen their grips on you, letting out cries. Your body was on overdrive now. The only thing you focused on was getting the fuck out of there.

"Yah, get her!"

You dashed to Jungwon, snatching him up and jamming him into your pocket. You flung the door open, but Ricky and Gyuvin grabbed both of your hands before you could make a run for it. Ricky pulled you in by the waist, so that you were flush against his chest, while Gyuvin pressed against you from the front.

"Let go of me," you protested.

"Nuh-uh," Ricky whispered in your ear.

"Why're you so resistant to us, [Name]?" Gyuvin rasped. "We just wanna be your friend."

Meanwhile, Jungwon, although injured, creeped out from your pocket. With them so close to you, it would be awfully easy for Jungwon to land a few claws on them. It wouldn't hurt to give them a few scratches, right?

With a loud hiss, Jungwon jumped out from your pocket, landing on Ricky's chest. With all the might that his small body could gather, Jungwon scratched the boy's chest with high-pitched shrieks. Almost immediately, Ricky stumbled backward, letting go of you. You took that opportunity to land the hardest kick you could to Gyuvin's crotch. Then, you plucked Jungwon up, and made a run for it.

You ran until you reached the girl's bathroom of the south building, far enough from Ricky and Gyuvin and their little henchmen. You took in shallow breaths, staggering into the bathroom. You held onto Jungwon tightly.

Finally, you dropped down to your knees, slumping against the wall. With a hiss, you observed the bruises on your wrists, where the boys had held you.

You took off your sweater, gently placing Jungwon on it.

He nuzzled his face against your leg, purring when you pet his head.

"Hey, Jungwon," your voice was quiet, the quietest that he'd ever heard. "You okay?"

Meow!

Your nimble fingers ran against his fur, and when you ended up on his side, Jungwon hissed. Upon closer inspection, that part of his abdomen was bruised from the earlier assault.

"I'm sorry, baby," you unconsciously used that name, your heart hurting for him. It must be horrible being so small and helpless. You tenderly caressed his face, with him leaning into your touch. "Does it hurt?"

Jungwon nodded. Although all the energy was sucked out of you from that scuffle alone, you jumped to your feet.

"The nurse's office is just down the hall," you said to him. "I'll go get some things, okay?"

Jungwon meowed to you as you left.

He'd never actually seen you fight anyone.

Were you harassed like this often? Was that why you were reported to be fighting people, when you were really just defending yourself? Why did people want to bother you so badly?

The pain in Jungwon's side was bearable, but the way you were so quick to get help was so admirable.

In fact, all this time that he spent with you, you never looked to fight people. Instead, you were actually so eager to be helpful. How did you become known as the class's troublemaker when you actively avoided trouble? All you’ve been so far was kind to him.

Was he wrong about you?

Just as Jungwon was about to go on pondering...

Poof!

Jungwon coughed, and suddenly, he was human again.

But, like always, naked.

He scurried into one of the stalls, shutting and locking the door.

"Jungwon?" you wandered back into the bathroom, unable to spot a little black cat. "Jungwon, where'd you go?"

When a deeper, masculine voice responded, you almost jumped out of your skin. "I'm... in the stalls."

"You turned back?!"

Jungwon felt his cheeks warm up. How was he going to explain this to you?

"Why are you in the stalls?"

Jungwon cleared his throat awkwardly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm... uh.. naked right now."

"Oh."

"C-Can you please go get me clothes?"

When you came back with a set of male school uniform (that you stole from some kid's locker), you threw it over the stall door, a little flustered.

Jungwon finally came out of the stalls, an awkward expression on his face.

"Did the clothes fit right?" you asked. Granted, you thought you stole from the underclassmen, so the clothes you got him might be too small. "Are they too small?"

"No," Jungwon quickly answered. "They... They fit just fine."

He stared at you. "Thanks, by the way."

You blinked at him. "For what?"

"For everything you did for me back there," Jungwon took a deep breath. He still couldn't wrap his head around how your status as the class delinquent came to be. "You were really cool."

"Cool?" You raised a brow at him, but you couldn't hide the curve in your lips. "I thought it was pretty cool how you scratched Ricky."

Jungwon snorted. "That's nothing compared to the last-minute kick to Gyuvin's crotch."

You laughed, but clamped your hand over your mouth.

"Sorry," you murmured.

"I mean it," Jungwon was looking at you with wide eyes. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. "It was, like, straight out of a comic book."

"Right," you nodded slowly, the corners of your lips quirking up. You perched down next to him, pulling the first-aid kit you nicked from the nurse's office. You didn't know how Jungwon's cat-human curse translated injuries. That is, you didn't know if he'd have the same injuries he sustained as a cat in his human form. "D'you mind lifting up your shirt for me?"

Lift... up... his... shirt... for... you?

Jungwon choked on his spit, coughs spouting from his throat. As he coughed up a storm, a sharp pain in his abdomen pierced through him. He clutched his side, letting out a soft groan of pain.

"Shit," your fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, "You're bruised there, aren't you?"

You began to flip up his shirt to get a better look of his wound, but Jungwon quickly stopped you.

"W-Wait!" his cheeks flared. You gave him a weird look. "How am I going to get married if you see me shirtless?!"

For the Class President, Jungwon Yang was a little dumb.

You gave his head a soft smack.

"You dumbass," you chided him. "I've already seen you shirtless."

Jungwon's eyes widened into saucers. You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Remember when I woke up to you half naked the other day?"

Oh. Right.

"And you're not going to be tainted if I see you shirtless. Stop being a baby and just let me see your injury, you loser!" With flighty eyes and red ears, Jungwon let you pull up his shirt, your fingers gently brushing against the brownish-purple bruise beginning to form on his side. He let out another hiss of pain when you pressed on it. "Does that hurt?"

"Y-Yeah."

Carefully, with the roll of bandages, you wrapped his torso. Although it was completely normal to you, Jungwon felt weird as your arms circled his waist. He could almost feel your breath on his neck. He'd been close to you like this as a cat, but it just felt different when he was a human.

You then gave him an ice pack, instructing him to hold it against his side.

"You're good at this," he complimented. You were very knowledgeable on how to treat wounds.

"Well, I get into a lot of fights, y'know?" You flashed him a toothy grin before treating your own bruises.

Jungwon's heart dropped to his stomach. That was... really sad.

"Wait!" he blurted, reaching out to clutch your arm as you wrapped your wrists. "Let me help you with that."

"Um, okay."

Jungwon wasn't nearly as experienced as you, and his bandaging job was very clumsy. But you appreciated the effort.

When you were done, the two of you sat in a short silence.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked you.

You thought for a few moments. "I think I'm gonna jump the fence and leave."

"Huh? Why?"

You shrugged. "I refuse to go back there after what happened. Plus, lunch already ended, and I don't feel like serving after school detention today."

You'd already made up your mind, beginning to collect your things.

Jungwon blinked.

For the first time ever, he, too, didn't want to go back. Jungwon had never skipped a class in his life, let alone jumped the fence.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" you nudged him with your foot. He looked up at you; you were ready to leave.

Jungwon breathed. This might be one of the hardest decisions of his life.

"Can I come with you?"

"If you're going to be worried, you should probably go back."

Jungwon swallowed down hard. He'd never skipped class before, and even if he really wanted to, he couldn't ignore the anxiety bubbling inside him.

"I'm not worried,” he clenched his fists.

"Right."

After jumping the fence, you and Jungwon were free.

"Where are we going now?"

"Home."

Jungwon felt like he'd come home with you so much the past few days, to the point that he nearly memorized the way there.

Except, as he entered the doorway, your entire apartment looked different.

"Why are you so surprised?" you switched on the lights. "You've been here many times already."

"I know, but," Jungwon scanned your kitchen and living room. "Nearly every time I've been here, I was an 8-inch tall cat."

You went into your bathroom silently, leaving Jungwon to walk about your apartment. He'd never really got a good look at it. He observed the picture collage on your fridge, of you and your parents and friends, smiling so brightly. The peach soda - scented candle on your counter seemed so out of character for you, but for some reason, it made so much sense. From the arrangement of the throw pillows on your couch, to the fuzzy rug, to the pile of mail sprawled on the coffee table, your apartment felt so you.

When you emerged from your bathroom, Jungwon did a once-over. He'd seen you in your pajamas before, but for some reason, when he saw you now in your cute polka-dotted fluffy pajamas, you almost looked... cute. Someone as brooding as you in such cutesy pajamas gave him whiplash.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing..." but Jungwon couldn't hide the way his lips curved upwards.

You yawned. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Okay."

"Can I join you?"

Jungwon had expected you to throw him a pillow and blanket on the floor, similar to what you did with him as a cat. But you didn't.

You patted the spot next to you on your bed, looking at him expectantly.

And that's how Jungwon found himself laying next to you like a sardine.

He felt like a child the way his hands felt clammy, feeling a wave of anxiety with each movement you had. In his defense, he'd never slept in the same bed with a girl. In fact, he couldn't remember a time where he was as close to a girl as he was right now.

"If you're uncomfortable, you can-"

"No, I'm okay!"

He felt your eyes on him for a few moments, before you sighed. You jammed a pillow between the two of you, creating a border of some sort.

"Is that better?"

Jungwon didn't know why, but he felt a twinge of disappointment.

"... Yeah."

The next few minutes were full of silence. Jungwon laid still like a statue. From the corner of his eye, he could see you snuggling up with a plushie, almost kind of like how you snuggled up with him when he was a cat.

An unconscious frown spread itself on his cheeks.

He.... also wanted to be snuggled like that. Was it weird that he craved that closeness to you? He reasoned to himself that he was just used to it, since he’d spent the majority of his time with you as a cat.

In a moment of pure boldness, Jungwon snatched the pillow between you and him away, throwing it on the floor.

You sent him a confused look. "Hey there."

Jungwon's eyes were shaky, yet they trained on the plushie you had in your arms. Then he looked at your face, then back at the plushie, then back at your face.

"You need something, Jungwon?" you asked, almost concerned.

"I— Uhm," his eyes kept flickering from your face to the plushie. At a certain point, he was glued to the plushie, unable to hide the pout formed on his lips.

For someone who was good at pretending to smile, he wore his feelings on his face so clearly, you rolled your eyes.

"You're so annoying," you muttered under your breath. You chucked the plushie in your arms to the side. You then threw your arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Jungwon let out a surprised yelp, but you ignored him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, careful not to touch his bruised abdomen. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses. "Is this better?"

Jungwon audibly gulped, but he eased into the feeling of your arms around him. "Y-Yeah..."

You were so close! He could smell the faint scent of your perfume, mixed with the scent of fresh laundry. You snuggled up against him, the sound of your soft breaths, which were slowing down into a steady rhythm, filling his ears.

Jungwon took a deep breath, and melted into the warmth that was your arms.

He wouldn’t mind doing this many more times, he thought. Would he?

And soon, he drifted off into dreamland, too.

Your eyes fluttered open a few hours later. Your bed was usually warm, but this time, it was very warm. So warm that you wanted to melt into it, completely and utterly disarmed by the comfort that you felt.

What time is it? was the first thing you thought.

The second thing you realized was that you could hear a heartbeat in your ears. Not your heartbeat, but the heartbeat of someone else. In fact, you were laying on someone's chest.

Jungwon's chest.

There the two of you were, sprawled out on your bed. Jungwon gently held your head against his chest, his other arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, while your arms wrapped around his torso. Your legs were tangled. You didn't remember falling asleep like this, but it wasn't like you minded the position. You simply sunk back into him, basking in the warmth.

But Jungwon did.

As his eyes shot open, he immediately noticed the current position you and him were in. You felt him tense under you, his arms beginning to curl back into himself. But the warmth that he provided as your personal human heater was just too good, so you grabbed his arms, putting them back into the position they were holding you in.

"It's cold, Jungwon," you muttered, snuggling up against him.

“[N-Name],” Jungwon’s voice came out soft. He’d just woken up mere minutes ago, yet he was wide awake. There was a weird pounding in his chest that he couldn’t explain, one that thrummed so loud that he could hear it in his ears. Your touch felt like burns on his skin, an unforgiving scalding boil, hot to the touch. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Why was he suddenly feeling this way? Was he ill? Was he going to transform into a cat?

“[Name],” Jungwon whispered again, a little louder. His words got caught in his throat the moment he said it, wanting to swallow it the moment they left his lips. He didn’t know what he would say, but he just said your name to hear it on his tongue.

“What?” you groaned, eyes gently shut but words lazily spoken.

Jungwon peered down at you. His ears felt like they were going to melt off his head. His skin seared with that scorching type of sting, the one that ached.

“Nothing,” he murmured, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath you took. Soon, your breathing stilled, and Jungwon was sure that you’d fallen asleep completely.

He observed

It was weird. He'd seen you up close like this before as a cat, but now that he was human-sized, it somehow felt so much more... intimate. Jungwon found himself digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he watched you sleep. He couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from you.

Plunk!

Hey, what was that sound?

Plunk!

Jungwon's head shot to your bedroom window. Then, he heard yelling outside.

As he got up to check out the commotion, you tugged on him.

"I already told you..." you murmured dreamily. "It's cold."

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. "But, what's going on outside-"

"Ricky and Gyuvin," you answered, this time tightening your hold on the boy. "They like to... torment me... sometimes."

Just sometimes? Jungwon thought. Really, how often were you getting harassed like this?

Before Jungwon could answer, you were fast asleep again. From then on, Jungwon refused to move, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber.

But, there was one thing that he took heavy note of.

First, it was 7PM. It was completely dark outside by now, the blue-gray shrouded with clouds, only the yellow moon illuminating the sky.

And second, that he was still human.

Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't turned into a cat even once.

However, while one phenomenon disappeared, another one emerged.

Jungwon's insanity.

Jungwon considered himself one of the, if not the most, sane person in every classroom. But right now, insanity was spiraling onto him like no other.

Weeks passed, and Jungwon couldn't shake off that tender, yet explosive, feeling he got when he was close to you.

After your week of detention was lifted, you and him slowly saw each other less and less. He couldn't help but feel disappointment when he locked up the detention room one last time, saying his goodbye to you.

You two were still in the same class, still saw each other everyday, but he didn't get to speak with you.

And that was when Jungwon resorted to observing you.

He was naturally observant, but all this time, Jungwon had been observing the bigger picture.

It started off with watching the doorway in the morning, praying that every person that passed was you. Then, Jungwon found himself watching you every passing period. Who did you talk to? Who tried to talk to you? What expression did you wear on your face?

Then, Jungwon took to roaming the school perimeter, under the excuse that he was just "patrolling the school for any trouble," when really, he was hoping that he'd run into you. This extended to after school. On the occasions that he actually ran into you, you'd shoot him a sly grin, making cat hands or ears over your head. He knew that you were doing that to tease him about his cat days, but his cheeks felt warm for another reason.

Have you always been that pretty? Of course, you'd always been cute, but did you always glow like that? Was Jungwon always into girls that looked like they could kick his ass? Why did the intimidating look on your face make his heart race?

Jungwon was in denial for a while, until he was at a Class Council meeting, when one of the members asked him casually, "Hey, what actually happened between you and [Name]?"

In retrospect, they were clearly referring to that one time you "assaulted" him. That incident remained shrouded in mystery for a while, as Jungwon refused to talk about it.

However, Jungwon jerked up at that question, his face painted with a look that could only be described as “constipated” at the sound of your name. Did someone find out about his cat transformation curse, and how you took care of him in that state? No, that would be too specific.

"Jungwon?"

"Y-Yes!"

Wonyoung and Jini shared a look, before a grin spread on their faces.

"You make it seem like you guys were kissing, or something. We’re just curious about what actually happened."

A weird noise came out of Jungwon's throat, his eyes wide like saucers.

Kiss...ing?

"Oh my god, don't tell me you actually kissed [Name]--"

"I didn't!"

And he was telling the truth. But the bright, red color on his face betrayed him. The Council teased him all about it, even going so far as patting him on the back for "scoring a baddie" (Wonyoung's words, not his). He denied it, he denied it with his full chest. He held his head high, nose pointed to the sky, denying it like his life depended on it.

But Jungwon couldn't help the weird feeling of pride that swelled in his chest. He liked the thought of kissing you, and in a weird, twisted way, he liked the way that people thought that you and him were together. Of course, he gave all of them a scolding for jumping to conclusions, but later in the day, when he was alone and reflected on the day, his cheeks began to hurt.

And that marked his actual descent into madness.

You began showing up in his dreams, smiling at him with those pretty, glossy lips, which he hadn't noticed until now. The grins you’d flash him across the room when he passed by, and the way you’d make cat hands or ears over your head whenever you saw him to tease him, made him feel weird. Gosh, did you have to be so pretty? Jungwon couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He craved your warmth, the warmth you gave him when you held him to your chest, the warmth you gave him when you hugged and called him annoying. Was it weird that he liked the way you could beat him up?

Jungwon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone dinged.

Today was another mundane day, where he spent his lunch period in the Council room, looking through the schedule.

It was the Class Council group chat.

wonyoung jang: my friend said something fishy is going on in building b

wonyoung jang: someone go check it out?

jini choi: can't, i'm in a meeting rn

jini choi: jinwoo?

wonyoung jang: forget it he never checks the gc

wonyoung jang: jungwon?

Jungwon was already on it.

It wasn't uncommon for people to cause problems during lunch. In fact, that seemed to be the time when most people created the most commotion—

Oh my god, it was you.

When he rounded the corner, there you were. You had your arms crossed over your chest, backed up against a locker. The ones cornering you? Ricky, Gyuvin, and their lackeys.

"You're getting boring, yeah [Name]?" Ricky grinned. "I don't see you fighting back as much."

You shrugged, but you were clearly tense, narrowing your eyes. "I don't want to deal with you guys anymore."

Ricky slowly buttoned his shirt, revealing scars. Scars from scratchmarks. The same scars that Jungwon gave him.

"You see this?" his gaze hardened. "You and your goddamn vermin gave this to me.'

You looked at him incredulously, but you couldn't hide the small curve in your lip. "Okay. And?"

Ricky slammed his fist against the metal locker next to your head, making a loud clang! You cried out in surprise, jolting in place. Heck, even Jungwon was startled, quietly jumping out his skin for a second.

"You think this is funny?" Ricky slammed his fist again, relishing in the way you squeezed your eyes shut in sheer bewilderment. "You think you can get away with this shit?"

Your eyes darted around. Clearly, you were out-numbered and overpowered. Yet, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Yeah, I do," you muttered. "It was funny, the way you screamed like a girl, Ricky."

Ricky snatched your face, his hand clutching your chin. He leaned in close to you, so close that you felt his breath on your face.

"You bitch."

Meanwhile, Jungwon's heart raced in his chest.

It was getting out of hand: how many people chose to bother you. You were honestly just minding your business, why did people want to pester you so much? He needed to step in before things escalated. And get you the fuck out of there.

Jungwon's body moved quicker than his mind.

"Hey!" he shouted, making his presence known. Everyone's head whipped over to him. Jungwon gulped as his mind went into overdrive trying to figure out what to say. Curse himself, why did he jump into this without thinking? What a genius.

"Look who it is," Gyuvin slyly stepped forward. "[Name]'s little crush."

If Jungwon wasn't about to be jumped, he would have turned red at that little comment. He was too focused on the fact that you were in possible danger.

"Yanno, Mr. Class President," Gyuvin paced toward him, his brows raised to his forehead. "[Name] here named her cat after you. Isn't it weird how she's obsessed with you?"

Your eyes were wide like saucers, sending him warning signals.

'You need to leave,' your eyes read, but Jungwon ignored it. This entire time, he pranced around as the Class President, feeling righteous, yet he never even tried to empathize with someone like you. How could he claim his title but be so clearly blinded by dumb prejudice?

Gyuvin gestured for Jungwon to come closer, pulling him so that he was right in front of you, face-to-face.

"This one causes a lot of trouble, doesn't she?" Gyuvin rasped. "Parading around like she's some kind of queen, when really she's just a little cunt."

"I know you're angry, Jungwon," Ricky added, motioning to you. "Let your anger out, won't you?"

They were right about him being angry. But not at you, not at the world, not at whatever internal conflict he had.

At them.

Jungwon's hands balled into fists.

"You guys are out of your fuckin' minds," he grumbled, his shoulders shaking. Before they could respond, Jungwon raised his fist, and swung in as hard as he could at Gyuvin, square in the jaw. Immediately, the rest of their lackeys stumbled back, screaming out their leader's name.

This was your opportunity to fight back. Kicking off the wall, you landed a kick at Ricky in the stomach, pushing him to the ground. "Your breath stinks, by the way."

With your back turned, the next thing you heard was a yelp of pain.

Shit, Jungwon!

You yelled his name.

Jungwon, to your knowledge, was not a fighter. He didn't fight people daily, he wasn't violent, he didn't tell people that he'd "kick their asses" like you did. For goodness's sake, he was the Class President. He'd never even had a missing assignment, he was most definitely not going to be able to fight back, let alone land a punch—

But instead of seeing the poor guy on the floor with everyone else beating the crap out of him, you saw the opposite. Jungwon, with only a minute cut on his cheek and bruised knuckles, stood tall, while the rest of the guys (including Gyuvin) groaned on the floor.

How did he..?

Jungwon snatched your hand. Before you could process what the hell just happened, he started profusely asking you if you were okay, if you were hurt. Right in the middle of a whole bunch of dudes groaning in pain.

You squeezed his hand, before running off, pulling him with you.

"You're so annoying, Jungwon!" you scolded him as you wrapped his knuckles in the nurse's office. "Why would you jump into a fight like that—"

"You were in trouble," was all he said solemnly.

"So what?!" You looked at him incredulously. "You're insane. You're the President, why would you—"

As you chided him, Jungwon found it difficult to focus. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, or the way that you were so close to him. As he sat on the counter, you found your place in between his legs, dabbing rubbing alcohol on the cut on his cheek. It stung, but he only dug his teeth into his bottom lip, instead gluing his eyes to the way your lips moved.

"Jungwon, are you even listening to me?!"

"Yeah, yeah."

You smacked his shoulder. "And you're still recovering from an injury from a few weeks ago, what would you do if they tried to kick you in the stomach again?!" You flicked his forehead.

Jungwon couldn't help the way he felt his lips lifting up. The way you worried about him made his chest feel warm, mindlessly nodding along and agreeing with every word you said.

"You know what?!" you huffed, a hand coming up to rub your temples. "How the hell did you beat them up so quickly back there?! That— That was unreal."

Jungwon opened his mouth to answer, but you cut him off. "— Do you also have some curse that makes you unnecessarily ripped all of a sudden?"

Your hand came up to squeeze his bicep. Although it was hard, especially when he flexed it for you with a grin, revealing his toned arms, it still didn't explain how the hell he was so strong.

"I didn't tell you?" Jungwon smiled. "I used to do Taekwondo."

"You did not tell me. I don't think there was ever a conversation where that came up—"

Jungwon threw his head back, letting a laugh tumble from his lips. "Well, now you know."

It must have been something in the air, because Jungwon would not have done this any other time, but he slithered his arm around your waist as you cupped his cheek gently, fixing up the cut on his face. His hand dangled at your hip, his fingertips brushing up against your thigh. Your eye fluttered over to it briefly, but you didn't seem bothered. In fact, you actually leaned in closer, your other hand sliding up his chest to grip his shoulder for stability. As he was sitting and you were standing, his head angled up at you. The way you gaze down at him, your expression rested, made him almost feel light-headed.

"What if they spread rumors about you, Jungwon?" you asked quietly.

"I wouldn't care," he answered simply.

"But you're the President," your brows knitted together.

"So what?" Jungwon breathed. "Should the President be concerned over silly rumors?"

"Won't people be suspicious if it suddenly came out that Jungwon Yang beat up a few guys?"

If you asked Jungwon this a few weeks ago, he'd be worried out of his mind. He'd be afraid of his reputation being ruined, he'd be afraid of what others thought of him. But for some reason, it didn't concern him that much anymore.

"That's their problem, not mine."

Just as those words left his lips, his phone began to blow up. He glanced at it briefly; it was probably the groupchat or something, but as it continued to ding, you motioned to it.

"You might want to check that out."

So he did.

wonyoung jang: jungwon we need you right now

wonyoung jang: it's BAD BAD

wonyoung jang: everyone's saying you jumped ricky and gyuvin

jini choi: mr president we need you NOWW

You peeked over his shoulder, only seeing the last message.

"You should go, Jungwon."

"I don't want to."

You gave him a look.

"Suddenly so rebellious?" you nudged his shoulder, the corner of your lip raising. "C'mon, you have duties."

Begrudgingly, Jungwon up and left the nurse's office, sending you the brightest smile he could muster.

The moment Jungwon stepped into the classroom, he was bombarded– no, completely besieged– with questions. The mere amount of people hounding him with questions was so much, that all their words blended together.

“Okay, okay!” he shouted, putting his hands out in front of him. “One at a time, Jesus Christ.”

They called for a very "needed class discussion."

Long story short, Jungwon thought that everyone was kind of dumb. The way they were all concerned about whether or not he actually beat up Ricky and Gyuvin was ridiculous. Although Jungwon was honestly tired, he wanted to be smart with his words. He didn't want to scare them, did he?

"No comment."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"I have nothing to add to that."

He found himself crinkling his nose a little too often as those words came out of his lips more times than he could count.

"Jungwon," some girl in the back of the class spoke up. "I heard rumors that you and [Name] are dating. Is that true?"

The class erupted with even more talking, people from other classes even lining the doorway to listen to it. The way that lunch should have ended a long time ago, but the teachers let this continue because they were also nosy and wanted to know. Did it really matter that much?

"Man, I don't know how I feel about that."

"But Jungwon's too good for her."

"[Name]? Of all people?"

They didn't even know you, how could they come to that conclusion if they never even spoke to you?

"But [Name]'s a bitch!"

"How is our Class President dating a bully?"

Jungwon's lips pressed together to form a thin line as thin as paper. He'd always thought that he'd been good at controlling his emotions, but the anger that was threatening to spill out of his throat was rising to a boil, bubbling to the point that if he didn't do something about it now, he'd absolutely implode.

"That's enough," he said, too quiet for anyone to hear. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing, behind Jungwon slammed his hand on the front table. "That's enough!"

The room went silent.

He took a deep breath, trying his hardest to contain his feelings.

"I don't see the relationship between my love life and the class's affairs," he said simply. "We are having a class discussion, and in our class discussions, we discuss problems relating to the class. In what way is the person I'm romantically interested in a problem that relates to the class?"

Silence.

Jungwon looked around with a cocked brow, expecting an answer.

Silence.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes.

He was tired.

As he pushed past people crowded at the door, Jungwon turned over his shoulder.

"By the way, I think [Name] is pretty cool. You guys should talk to her some time, maybe you'd be happier if you did."

And then he left.

Jungwon expected to find you back in the nurse's office, but he found you down the hall, your arms crossed over your chest, leaning against the wall.

He rushed to you, clutching your hands.

"[Name]," he said, "Hi."

You raised your brow at him, the corner of your lip lifting. "I'm pretty cool, aren't I?"

"Shut up," Jungwon muttered under his breath, but his eyes stayed stuck on you. He squeezed your hands. "Everyone's so annoying."

"I know," you squeezed his hand back. "You were cool back there, Jungwon."

Jungwon's cheeks warmed up at that compliment. Now that he realized that way your hands were in his, he felt his face prickle with heat. "Thanks..."

Somehow, your gaze felt too much for him to take. Jungwon avoided your eyes, choosing to look down at the floor. He felt your hand gently grasp his jaw, before forcing him to look at you.

"I really mean it," you said. "You're really the coolest. It's almost scary."

Jungwon opened his mouth to respond, but before he did...

Poof!

But this time, it wasn’t him that turned into a cat.

It was you.

"Not again!"

Jungwon seemed like a cat person. And he most definitely was one.

The moment that your cat form appeared at his feet, he scooped you up. Taking off his uniform blazer, he carefully wrapped you in it, before (to your complete and utter surprise) he jumped the fence, skipping class.

You meowed profusely. You had no idea how Jungwon did it; as words tumbled out of your mouth, they only came out as meows, and when you tried to clutch his forearm, all you could do was curse your annoyingly small paws.

If it weren't for your feline form, you'd be scolding him, chiding him for skipping class.

He was silent until the two of you reached a stoplight, when he took you out of the wrap that was his blazer. With his thumb, gently rubbed the spot behind your ears. Without even realizing it, you purred, leaning into his touch as if to say,"More!"

Jungwon chuckled, and you could feel his chest rumbling.

How embarrassing! How did he do this everyday for nearly a week and not go completely insane?! When he began rubbing your nose, laughing at the way that you fussed, Jungwon softly squeezed your stomach.

"It's my turn to take care of you, [Name]," he murmured, holding your feline face up to his. From your much smaller form, you could see every detail of his face— from the curve of his eyes, to the blemishes on his nose, to the divots in his half-chapped lips. You'd be lying if you didn't say that Jungwon had a nice face. You brought your paw up to his cheek, to which he chuckled again. He took your paw with his hand, before nuzzling his cheek into it.

When Jungwon finally arrived at his apartment, your question (where were his parents?) from weeks ago was finally answered: he lived away from them.

"Just like you," he whispered against your fur, rubbing your head as he flicked the lights on.

The next thing you knew, you were being bathed in warm, soapy water, as strawberry-scented bubbles filled the little bathtub. Jungwon dried you with his softest towel, and then you were eating the cat-equivalent of a five course meal.

"I feed the stray cats sometimes," he explained to you when your feline eyes gazed at him questioningly.

Was it normal for you to be so tired? You usually weren't this sleepy at this time in the day, yet you were. As you laid on Jungwon's lap, purring at the way his fingers ran through your fur, your eyes felt heavy.

It wouldn't hurt to doze off, right? After all, you were with Jungwon.

Jungwon tucked you into his bed, placing you on a pillow before covering you with a small blanket. He booped your nose.

Although he'd willingly skipped class today, he still had his own responsibilities that he'd like to attend to. He looked over all his homework, filing through all his important Presidential duties, and jamming in all the extra studying that was necessary.

It was a quiet few hours for him. Every hour, or so, he'd go to check on you. Each time he did, you were soundly sleeping. Since you transformed into a cat during the day, there was no telling when or how you'd transform back. He wondered how you'd react when you transformed back. Would you be bashful about it? Or, like always, would you call him annoying, and tell him that he spread his "disease" to you? Jungwon's lips curved at the thought of that. You were cute as a cat, but he thought you were cuter as a human, obviously.

As he worked away, Jungwon didn't notice the way the sun slowly sank into the horizon, its yellow face eventually disappearing. He was deep into focus when he heard a crash, and a small yelp. Coming from his room.

"Jungwon?" your voice called.

Immediately, he dropped his pen, dashing straight to his room. You were awake now, he thought. Maybe he could fit in a nice conversation with you, get closer to you, but that might be difficult when you were so pretty—

Oh.

The moment that Jungwon busted his bedroom door, he really didn't know what he expected.

But he definitely didn't expect to see you.

Naked, sprawled on his bed.

!!!

You let out a shrill scream. Jungwon's face flared with heat, immediately turning around. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut.

"S-Sorry!"

He felt like he could have increased the global warming rate and melted multiple ice-caps just by the sheer amount of heat radiating off of his face. It was so bad that his eyes began to water from pure embarrassment.

Jungwon must be dying, he thought. He might actually drop dead now.

He heard rustling, before your voice, much quieter than he'd ever heard it, murmured, "You can look now..."

Jungwon turned around, but he still kept his eyes shut. If he looked you in the eye now, he'd probably combust on the spot. Slowly, his eyes peeled open, to reveal you, just as embarrassed as him, curled up on his bed, with his blankets wrapped around you.

"Sorry," you muttered, your eyes glued to the floor, too shy to meet his. Your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout, your brows softly furrowing.

Jungwon waved his hands in front of him profusely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Y-You have nothing to apologize for."

"Right."

"Jungwon, I'm naked—"

He was already on it. Your school clothes were still in the washer, so Jungwon dug through his closet, throwing you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He let you do your business, and just when Jungwon thought that all his embarrassment was gone, he saw you in his clothes.

Shit.

Jungwon clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to hide the growing smile on his cheeks.

You looked so... cute.

"Yah," you kicked him with your foot, still buried in his blankets. He could see the way your eyes were shifty, still avoiding his. "What're you laughing at?"

"Nothing," was all Jungwon said, but a smile was apparent in his voice.

"Stop laughing!" you threw a pillow at him.

This scene has happened before.

Jungwon laughed, his eyes pressing into thin crescents as his sharp teeth came into view. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. Why did he have to look pretty when he laughed?

You threw another pillow at him. Jungwon snatched the pillow off the floor, charging toward you. You let another shrill shriek escape your lips when he managed to land a hit on you with the pillow.

"Jungwon!" you cried, as he grabbed another pillow, hitting you on the top of your head. You struggled for another soft and plush weapon to use against your assailant, but alas, he was much faster and stronger than you, "Jungw— Hey!"

"You started it!" He was kneeling at the edge of the bed, when he reached for yet another one of his pillows. When he did this, Jungwon had to climb onto the bed entirely. You hit his hand away from his target pillow.

"You already have two pillows!" you nudged him with your foot. "Don't be unfair."

"All's fair in love and war," Jungwon said simply.

You stared at him incredulously, before you bursted out laughing. Jungwon's ears burned, but he didn't budge.

"Okay, you nerd." With that, you seized the pillow that he was so desperately trying to obtain, only for Jungwon to try to rob you of it. For the next few minutes, you and Jungwon struggled over the pillow, ripping it out of each other's hands.

"Let go!" you cried.

"Absolutely not!"

It was going just fine. A friendly pillow fight. Right?

Except, Jungwon miscalculated one of his movements, causing him to launch himself forward. He landed right on top of you, his hands right beside your head with his arms caging you below him.

Oh.

With his dark locks falling over his face, Jungwon gazed down at you with wide eyes. The way you looked back up at him, eyes glittery and lips parted, your breath heavy from the earlier play-fighting, made his heart race. Why were your lips so glossy under the light? Why did his bed fit you so perfectly? Why did you look so pretty when you were in his clothes in his bed in his arms? Why did he want to lean in and—

On your end, your heart was palpitating just as much as Jungwon's was. But of course, you didn't know that.

The lamp next to his bed casted a dim, orange light, and even under the shadow, Jungwon's honey tan skin glowed.

There was something about the way his toned arms dangled over your head, or the way you could see his collarbones peeking out of his shirt, or the way that his neck just looked so goddamn kissable right now—

The two of you could have been staring into each other's eyes for minutes or for hours, there really wouldn't have been a difference.

"Uh, sorry," Jungwon finally said, the embarrassment finally settling in. He began to maneuver off of you, the warmth of your touch being ripped away from him.

No! You didn't want him to get off of you! You wanted him to be close to you!

You grabbed his wrist, yanking him down. Instead of caging you, Jungwon instead was now met with a faceful of your chest, much to his embarrassment.

"[Name]...!" he spluttered, but you didn't care. You pressed your hand on his back, making the rest of his body relax into yours, before you ran your hands through his hair.

"I'm tired," you muttered in his ear. "I want to sleep."

"Y-You just woke up..!" his voice was muffled by your chest and shoulder.

"I don't care." Your fingers stopped in his hair, before you reached for his lamp, switching it off. "We're sleeping."

All Jungwon could do was sigh, admitting defeat to you. He relaxed into your body, taking in your sweet scent, though with reddened cheeks. He thanked the newfound darkness for concealing the color of his face. Realizing that you were no longer playing with his hair, Jungwon clutched your hand, dragging it and plopping it right on top of his head.

"Play with my hair, [Name]."

"You're annoying," you whispered, but you complied. You were so warm, and soft, and calming. Jungwon felt all his worries melt away, which was why he couldn't help but nuzzle his face into your chest. You cocked a brow at him, pausing to flick his forehead. "Okay, you perv."

Jungwon shot up. "I'm not a—!"

You pushed his head down back into your chest, your other arm coming up to hold him in place. "Go back to sleep."

And who was he to refuse you?

Jungwon and you saw each other quite often after that. In passing, you'd always shoot him that signature smile, accompanied by a punch on the shoulder, or a light slap on the arm, or even a soft shove. Some days, you'd drop by the Council room and say hi to him, maybe even look over his Presidential papers. You got suspicious looks whenever you did, but the glare of the class's residential troublemaker and the Class President was enough to send people spiraling.

Day by day, Jungwon's feelings grew for you. Exponentially. It could be little things, like how you'd send him questioning looks when someone said something questionable, or the way that you'd scrunch your nose whenever he purposefully stared at you. But it was also the other moments outside of school that he valued, like when he found you feeding a few stray cats, or when he saw at the grocery store stocking up on cat food (just in case you or him turned into a cat again, your words not his).

Little did he know, you, too, blossomed a crush. You didn't talk to many people, so Jungwon was special. You liked that he was diligent and hard-working, and his snobbery wasn't really existent. He was one of, if not the only, person that you chose to tolerate. He was cute, someone that you wouldn't mind being around.

It's been long known to Jungwon that he wasn't always as smart as he thought he was. But sometimes he thought he was plain stupid.

“I like you,” Jungwon blurted one day after school, as you helped him look over his papers. The moment that those words left his mouth, Jungwon wanted to eat them.

As spring came rolling into your lives, the days were getting longer. Sunlight illuminated the empty classroom, casting a delicate shadow on your features.

Jungwon didn't know what came over him, what spirit decided to possess him in that moment.

After a few moments, you said, "Okay."

Okay?

Just.

Okay?

Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut as his heart plummeted to his stomach. Of course he had no chance with you. How could he? Was he getting ahead of himself? Had he been misinterpreting your relationship this entire time?

Just as embarrassment crashed down on Jungwon, you clicked your tongue.

"Can you stop panicking?" you asked frankly. When you noticed his very red expression, you huffed. "I didn't reject you, if that's what you're thinking—" you pinched your nose-bridge— "Just, let me think of a response."

That only made Jungwon sink deeper into his seat. Oh, he was so naive! What would happen after this? He didn't want to lose his friendship with you, not at all! Maybe he should die, maybe the earth should just open up right now and eat him alive—

“Jungwon,” you finally said. “I think you’re really cute.”

Jungwon held his breath.

“But,” you continued. “This is a little fast for me.”

As catastrophe rained down on his shoulders, you stifled a giggle.

Setting down your pen, you rested your face on your fist, gazing over at the boy.

Gently, as if he were a piece of glass, your fingers clutched his chin, moving his face to look at you. Jungwon's eyelids fell shut at your touch. Biting back a grin, you leaned in toward him. Experimentally, you came just close enough for Jungwon to feel your breath against his lips, ghosting you lips over his. You watched the way his brows knitted together, his lips wobbling.

Cute.

You pressed one kiss on his right eyelid. You felt his shoulders tense under you, but you only smiled. You pressed another kiss on his left eyelid. Before he could react, you pulled away.

“Take me out on a date first, yeah?” there was a smile in your voice.

Jungwon stood frozen in his spot, before his eyes shot open.

Date?

“And bring me flowers,” there was a teasing, but also dreamy, tone in your voice. “I like roses.”

The way Jungwon just stared at you with widened, glossy eyes, dumbfounded beyond words made you throw your head back, laughter bubbling from your chest.

You leaned in toward him again, collecting his hands in yours.

“I like sweets, but anything with too much chocolate makes me sick,” you leaned in closer. “I’m free every day, since none of the teachers are on my dick anymore.”

You put your finger to your lip in thought. “If you don’t want to go anywhere, we can come over to my house and nap. I like being hugged and I get cold easily.”

“W-Wait, what?!”

Jungwon felt so much blood rush to his face, he almost fainted.

"I like you, too," you said simply, as if it were just another fact and not one of the most ground-breaking discoveries of Jungwon's life! "I want you to take me out on a date."

Jungwon blinked.

You got up from your chair, yawning and stretching. Then, you began packing up your things.

"I have to go now," you flashed him a grin. "I'm tired."

As you made your way to the door, Jungwon finally realized where he was, and what the hell was happening: you, his crush, liked him back, and this was his chance.

"W-Wait!" Jungwon blurted, his hand jerking out to grab your wrist. Almost like you were hoping for him to do that, you turned over your shoulder, humming.

"This Saturday!" Jungwon gulped down those dumb words that threatened to spill out his mouth, the ones that would make him look even more like a fool. "Go out with me this Saturday, 5PM."

You only smiled. "Okay. Saturday, 5PM. Got it."

The two of you stood like that for what felt like hours. Jungwon darted his tongue out to swipe over his bottom lip. He wanted to say something to you, but he simply couldn't bring himself to utter words.

"You won't turn into a cat, on me, yeah?" you teased him, the corner of your lip raising up. Oh, how much he wanted to kiss them. How would your hand fit in his? What should he wear? Where would you go?

"No..." Jungwon answered, too dazed. "I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You slipped out of his grasp, making your way out of the room. Though, your footsteps as they faded away sounded more excited than usual.

Jungwon was left there in the classroom, alone. He blinked a few more times, letting a few more pulses pass, before his face broke out with a smile.

There he stood, hiding his face in his palms.

Oh, he couldn't wait until Saturday.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon fic #star-sim #vanya-writes

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strawburry01 · 3 months ago

Text

Her Majesty

Ford Pines x Reader

Summary: A bunch of lil blurbs about your time with Stanford. All fluffy sweet stuff to make up for whatever comes next.

A/N: thanks for all the love guys! I hope you all appreciate these little snippets to make up for me missing sometimes :)

The next time you and Ford walked into Greasy’s Diner, you were holding hands. Everyone was nudging each other’s shoulders to look. They’d been waiting on this moment for a while, silently betting and gossiping on what your relationship was. The sweet waitress Susan paid for your brunch after insisting making the pancakes in the shape of a heart which caused Ford’s face to redden.

Your VCR tape library continued to grow as did Ford’s notebook collection. He kept saying he would build another real house for you both eventually that could fit everything you both needed.

You wrote back to your sister about how you were finally dating a guy and she responded back with endless phone calls until you eventually answered. She didn’t believe you until you put Ford on the phone to prove he existed.

On your first-year of dating anniversary Ford got you a new camcorder. The newest the town’s Radio Shack had at least. You got him a new Casio watch. One with the little calculator on it.

Many nights were spent with you having fallen asleep on top of Ford as he was reading a book. He didn’t dare move you.

You brought home a cat one day you found in the forest. “We need a pet” you insisted. Ford quickly informed you that it was a baby cougar.

Ford eventually told his brother Stan that you two were dating. He never told you how Stan responded, but he didn’t know you overheard him on the phone saying, “I can’t believe she’s with someone like me,”.

You and Ford always had strained relationships with your parents so you never felt a strong urge to introduce each other to them. When your grandma passed away though he flew back to the east coast with you to attend the funeral. He teased you about the science fair and soccer trophies in your childhood room when you two spent the night there.

On your third year anniversary you two went into the larger Oregon city of Portland for the night and went to an expensive dinner. Afterwards you two went to a midnight showing of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

You both mentally kept track of the overall wins and losses of your daily chess games.

He preferred coffee, you preferred tea.

Whenever Ford would put on one of his nature or paranormal documentaries you’d always wrap yourself around his arm and fall asleep immediately. The European narrators just lulled you straight to sleep.

Ford nearly tore your ear off when your earrings got stuck to his magnet-ray. He apologized profusely and bought you new earrings to make up for ruining yours.

You insisted on going out to the town fair and got him dancing with you when the band starting playing on the last night. You were both buzzed off of beer and cider and couldn’t stop laughing and bouncing into each other.

Everyone in town knew you as the two scientists outside of town, and everyone knew how much you two loved each other.

You both said ‘I love you’ for the first time when star gazing

Hope you enjoyed! Think of this as part 2.5 I guess? Whatever is next is gonna hurt the feelings I’m sorry but I can’t help it heeheehhehehe.

Update: here it is

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fanfic #gravity falls #ford pines x reader #ford pines #ford x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #gravity falls stanford #x reader

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kat-mobile · 4 months ago

Note

Hey love ❤️ hope you’re doing good

Can I request Tommy with a gentle, empathetic and sensitive reader please. It was an arranged marriage and he found out his new wife would cry herself to sleep over a book she read or just a cat. His reaction to someone who is completely opposite of him

Thank you in advance ✨

Tommy with a wife who's his complete opposite

A/N: Hey baby, thanks for the request!! I'm doing good and I hope you are too ❤️ I forgot to put on the requests post to specify if you want it as a fic or headcanons so I've made it sort of a mix of the two, hope that's okay anon. I made this blog to try and improve my writing skills and as this is my first attempt it isn't the best, so sorry about that lol. Hope you like it!! (this is set sometime around series 1-2 cause those are my fave)

It was an arranged marriage and to be honest... you weren't particularly thrilled by the notion of being married to Birmingham's most known and feared gangster. But you would do anything for your family and if your father decided that this is what would be best for securing the future of the family then you'd follow through on your part of the deal, even if it seemed like you and Tommy had absolutely nothing in common.

This was a couple months ago now and you had somewhat settled into your new life in Small Heath and with Tommy by your side, the two of you living in comfortable tandem. You had settled into a routine and life was good, or as good as it could be with the risk of being married to a Shelby.

He would buy you any book that you so much as happened to glance at and in turn you would patch up and sew back together any unfortunate pieces of clothing that got in the way of Tommy and his dangerous life style and work, fighting back tears and worrying at your lower lip as you did so. You may not quite understand why he was constantly putting himself in danger but he was your husband all the same and you had grown to love him as your marriage progressed

you would also force him to go and see an actual trained medical professional whenever he came home with said ruined clothing, as a dead husband is less than ideal and you have grown attached these last couple months

Your empathy and tendancy to cry over him when he got hurt was a shock at first but he quickly got used to it, he even tried to avoid getting hurt just so as to not have to see you cry over him

He may not say it outright but he appreciates everything you do and how much you care for him

He doesn't like to keep secrets from you but he doesn't share all aspects of work life with you as he doesn't want you to worry too much, but if being kept in the dark would worry you even more he'd make an effort to keep you in the loop

Your gentleness and compassion is a welcome contrast to his life from before you were apart of it, Tommy didn't know that he needed it before you

If there's one thing about Tommy Shelby, it's that he protects what's his and as his wife he treats you with the utmost care (especially if you have a tendancy to seek out the good in all people)

One night when Tommy (finally) came to bed he found you curled up in a ball on your side with your back to the door, tears gently running down your smooth cheeks

Unsure of what to do when confronted by your distress but still wanting to help, he'd rush to your side and scoop you up onto his lap, holding you close with your tear-stained cheek pressed against his chest and an arm thrown protectively around your shoulders. He'd cautiously rock back and forwards whilst his hand moves slowly up and down your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He's a little awkward and stiff but damn if he isn't fucking trying

He'd use his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin up and force your eyes to meet his own before softly questioning you on why you were crying

"What you crying for, hmm love? Ruining your pretty face"

He'd say, wiping away your tears with his thumb

Upon hearing that the reason for your tears was a sad ending to one of the books he bought you he'd be a little taken aback and he would honestly have to suppress the urge to laugh

It all seemed rather silly to him that you'd cry over some words on paper

"Tommy it isn't funny, it was really upsetting" you'd hiccup out through your tears

he'd just shake his head and sigh, apologising, before pulling you closer, finally laying down on the bed with your legs intertwined

Tommy had hoped it would be a one of chance but when he caught you crying in bed again over the ending of Of Mice and Men, he very quickly figured that he'd have to adapt

Tommy developed a system for when you had your... shall we say moments, he'd sit down on his side of the bed with his back pressed against the headboard before he lifted you up and placed you in-between his legs

Sitting you so that your back was resting against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat

You would then explain to him the sad moments in your books as he softly hummed and nodded his head along to your words

And when he got tired from your quiet voice lulling him to sleep he'd pull you down with him as he laid on his side, caging you in against his chest with an arm around your waist

Those were the nights that he slept the best

#tommy shelby x reader #tom shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon

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mooishbeam · 1 year ago

Text

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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starspunt · 6 days ago

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. . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

── KINICH + gn!reader

synopsis: kinich liked to get away from the busy city, and sit in the saccharine embrace of your company.

warnings: fluff, pining!childhood friends, mentions food/beverages, modern!au, city/park setting, college!au, mentions exams/studying, kinich playing romance sims is canon to me btw (wc. 705)

note: this is a repost from my old blog.

kinich was a man of few words, able to get his point across without opening his mouth for long. he said things with such confidence, without room for negotiation. you supposed that’s how you found yourself sharing a picnic blanket just off the bank of a stream with him. you’re not entirely sure how he convinced you to come out, but chalked it up to the mushy soft spot you had for him.

you should’ve been at home in your dorm, studying for your exams in your cozy pajamas, with your favorite candle burning and a mug of tea in your hands. maybe you’d even read more of the book series you’d recently gotten into. yes, you easily could’ve pictured it, as you’ve done it more times than you could count.

what you could not have pictured, however, was this scenario. it felt like a scene out of the romance sims you knew mualani would make fun of if she found out kinich secretly played them. flowers bloomed and blossomed all around you, bright bursts of color dotting a lush carpet of vibrant green.

the two of you were thigh to thigh on the short blanket, and a cliche picnic basket sat innocently off to the other side of kinich, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the thundering of your heartbeat. he sat next to you stiffly, pointedly trying not show how much your close proximity and cloyingly sweet scent made him dizzy. he didn’t know whether to praise or berate his past self for not grabbing a larger blanket.

he could feel the comforting warmth of your skin through your clothes from where you pressed against him, and he felt his breath stutter in his throat. he was glad you were so used to his silence and easily filled the gaps in the conversation with casual chatter. you told him about your studies, the new stationary you just got, and even the campus cat you tend to feed.

while you were stuck in your own world, raving about the convenience store dinner you had last night, your words went in through one ear and out the other. kinich couldn’t help but admire you as you talked so animatedly. the way your eyes widened when you got expressive, the creases around your mouth when you frowned or smiled, or the quick flash of your tongue from behind your teeth.

he admired the depth of your voice, and how you were able to shift it through five different emotions in a few sentences. he admired how you were able to brighten the very air around you, making it feel lighter and more fulfilling as it filled his lungs. it was like you were very thing that let him breathe easy.

he didn’t know how he managed to have you in his life, let alone what he did to make you stay. he used to thank his lucky stars that you stayed, silently thanking you for loving him. silently thanking you for choosing to love him, when you could’ve had anyone else. when you could’ve had someone better.

“kinich?” your honeyed voice pulled him from his thoughts gently, like a soothing serenade composed just for him. his stunning eyes blinked at you, regaining himself as he peered into yours. “thought i lost you for a second. are you alright? you were staring at me.” you gave him that crooked, half smile you gave him whenever he got too quiet.

nodding in confirmation, he turned to pull out your favorite sweets. the fondness he held for you returned in his eyes as he watched you sparkle. when you launched into a full explanation on how to make the said sweets, this time he listened intensely, committing your words to memory and into the you-shaped spot in his heart.

when you broke off part of your pastry and offered it to him, he thought he might just implode. even more so when you fed the bite to him, the tip of your finger grazing his bottom lip. and when you looked at him with that adoring gaze and tender smile, saying his name in that dulcet tone, he thought that you must feel the same way that he did.

starspunt 2024. do not rewrite, repost, modify, or translate.

#kinich #kinich x reader #kinich x y/n #kinich x you #kinich fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n

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changbunnies · 16 days ago

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Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading.

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically.

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see.

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely.

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him.

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read!

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken.

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful!

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t.

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind.

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there.

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue.

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you.

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!”

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before.

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even.

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained.

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house.

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances.

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world?

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone.

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!”

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips.

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least.

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that.

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now.

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him.

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller.

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath.

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you.

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before.

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you.

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.”

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him.

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day.

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror.

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you.

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all.

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body.

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist.

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it.

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling.

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it.

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock.

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away.

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right.

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release.

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.”

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer.

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs.

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them.

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away.

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening.

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems.

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #kinktober fic and yet i once again wrote more plot than porn. yeah it's fine what's new #but also the me who thought she could write something short and plot-free for binnie was so funny. like who do you think you are?

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