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greymoonfeelings · 3 years

Text

She Will Be Loved

pairing: college au!Rick Flag x Fem! Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Tired of listening to you talk badly about yourself, Rick decides to confess his feelings for you. Friends to Lovers :)

warnings: casual drinking, mentions of sex, negative self talk and one small suggestive comment

note: this is very self indulgent and I wrote it at the walk-in clinic so your welcome. shoutout to @babblydrabbly for going full english major on me, now my perfectionist ass can sleep peacefully.

~~~

It’s 11 pm, you’re dressed to the nines, but your makeup is smudged and you’ve got a brown bag with a few bottles of alcohol in your arms.

You use your free hand to knock on your best friend’s apartment door.

You probably should have texted him before you came over, asked if he was busy, but you knew he wasn’t, he never was unless it was with you.

You were always there for each other and right now you needed his comfort.

He’s quick to open the door. “Hey,” he says casually before stepping back to allow you to enter.

“Ricky,” You sing. “Wanna get drunk with me?”

“What’s the occasion?” He watches as you set the brown bag on his small dining table.

“Men are shit. Well, not you, but every other man.”

“What’s this one’s name?”

“Who said I was talking about a particular man?”

“Your fancy attire and the smudged lipstick.”

“Shit,” You lick your thumb and attempt to wipe off the side of your face. “I thought I fixed that.”

“Hold on.” Rick leaves you standing in his living room and heads toward the bathroom.

He comes back with a wet face cloth and hands it to you. You use the reflection of his microwave to see your face.

“Such a gentleman, why the hell are you still single?”

Rick chuckles, “I don’t have time for that stuff.”

“What else do you have to do?”

“Plenty of things.” Rick returns to the couch and resumes the show he was watching when you knocked.

“Like what? Watching World War II documentaries and yelling at the tv like my Grandpa?”

“Hey, you yell at the tv too. Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Whatever. Do you want to get drunk or not?”

“Depends, did you only buy fruity stuff?”

“Fruity stuff,” You scoff. “I forgot you’re a big strong dude. You only drink manly stuff like Jack Daniels and hand sanitizer.” You mock.

“I’d rather drink hand sanitizer than fruit punch Four Lokos.”

“That was one time! And you have to admit they were pretty strong.”

“You drank one and then passed out on the floor.”

“I drank two, threw up in the tub, and then passed out on the floor.” You state matter of factly.

“How rude of me to forget.” Rick rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

“If you’d stop bitching about the Four Lokos, you’d know that I did buy some whiskey.”

“You should have led with that. Give it here.”

You pull the bottle of whiskey out from the bag and walk over to the couch. You plop down next to Rick, grabbing a blanket off the armrest and throwing it over your legs.

You hand the bottle to your best friend. He twists the top off, taking a big swig of the strong alcohol.

You can’t help but admire the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. As soon as you realize you’re staring, you shake your head and reach your hand out, silently telling him to hand you the bottle.

He takes another chug, ignoring you. “Don’t hog it or else I’ll have to add you to the list of men who suck.”

“It’s not hogging if you bought it for me.”

“I didn’t buy it for you, I bought it for myself so I could blackout and forget all about the terrible experience I just had.” You take a big sip, grimacing as the burning liquid makes its way down your throat.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, why would I want to tell my male best friend about getting dicked down?” You look at him like he’s an idiot.

It’s silent for a few moments as you stare at the bottle of alcohol in your hands.

“It’s just that men these days have no common decency.” You start to talk and Rick grabs the bottle from you.

I’m gonna need this, he thinks to himself.

It’s not that he minded listening to you complain, he just hated hearing you talk about the terrible men you were sleeping with. It made Rick furious to know how they mistreated you and made you doubt your worth. But with that protective feeling, something burning followed it, something more.

He would never admit it to you. He could barely admit it to himself, but he had feelings for you. Big time. He often found himself wishing that you’d stop hooking up with random guys and instead get with someone who cared about you. Him.

Rick wished that instead of going to dinner with assholes, you’d get all dressed up to go to dinner with him. He’d take you somewhere he knew you loved, let you get whatever you wanted, and pay for all of it. He’d buy you your favorite flowers and make sure you knew how beautiful you looked under the lights of the city.

Rick allows himself to imagine what you'd wear if you went on a big date together, how you’d do your hair, and if you’d wear a coat or make him give you his.

“I mean, it’s not that I’m surprised he blocked me, but it still stings, y'know?” Your comment pulls Rick out of his imagination as he absentmindedly placed the liquor bottle on the coffee table.

“I guess men really only want one thing.” You sigh, picking up the bottle and drinking some more.

“If you know they’re gonna treat you like shit, why do you keep going out with them?”

You're taken aback by his question.

Usually, he didn't have much to say after you finished ranting about a guy. He'd just nod his head and say, “I'm sorry”.

You think for a few seconds before answering.

“I don’t know, I guess I just keep hoping it’ll be different and I don’t really care about myself enough to look for anything better. Sometimes I just feel like I’ll never be truly loved so I settle for shitty guys who tell me I’m hot because it’s probably the closest I’ll ever get.”

“That’s absurd. You’ll find someone eventually. We all do.”

“Will I, Rick? I’m a grown woman and I’ve never even had a boyfriend. We just graduated college and I couldn’t even find one guy in that whole school who wanted to date me.”

“There was one guy,” He mumbles to himself.

“What?” You ask genuinely.

‘“I said, “Did you try?”’

“What does that mean?”

“You never really left your dorm unless it was to hang out with me. We only became friends because I kicked you in the face with a soccer ball,otherwise, you probably would have been alone that whole time.”

“I hate when you use logic against me.” You huff, “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I certainly feel like one. What dumbass keeps letting herself get used when she knows that all the dude wants is sex? Only I would do that.”

“I doubt you're the only person.”

“That doesn't make me any less of an idiot.”

You sink deeper into the couch, holding onto the bottle of whiskey like a comfort pillow.

“I just wish one time a good guy would like me for who I am rather than just for my body. Maybe I don’t have any good qualities.”

“You have plenty of good qualities.”

“Not really. I’m a huge bitch, I'm always pissed off or hiding in my room all depressed. I don’t have any hobbies or leave the house unless it’s to come here or go to work. I have the worst personality. Don’t even get me started on my looks because they're just as bad. I mean, my body is just gross and so is my face and…”

“Stop! Will you stop!” Rick raises his voice and you look at him like he just slapped you across the face.

“Damn, I know I ramble a lot, but you could’ve been nicer.”

“It’s not that you talk too much, it’s what you’re talking about. You’re so hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

“Everything I said was true,” You shrug.

“You have the biggest heart out of anyone I've ever met. You go out of your way to help anyone even if it means putting yourself last. I’ve watched you worry yourself into a depression over things you can’t even control because that’s how much you care. You’re funny as hell and you manage to make me laugh even on the worst days. Not to mention you’re gorgeous even when you’re hungover laying in your vomit on my floor.”

“Really?” You raise your eyebrow at his last comment.

“Okay, maybe not exactly then, but it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

“How you feel about me?” Your heart starts to beat faster and you hope it's not as loud as it feels.

Rick sighs, “I’m in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I’ve been in love with you since we were sophomores in college. I never thought you would feel the same, but after watching all these guys use you and make you feel like shit, I can’t stand it anymore. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but I need you to know that you are capable of being loved and you deserve to be happy.”

“Damn, Rick.” You sigh, sitting up on the couch. “I mean, here I am complaining about bad sex and you’re professing your love for me.”

You put the bottle of alcohol down and rub your temple, trying to process what just happened.

Did he really feel that way or was it just the alcohol?

“I hope I didn’t just ruin our friendship.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Fuck,” He mutters. But before he can continue to beat himself up, you cut him off.

“There’s no way we’re going back to just being friends after that. I’ve loved you for a while, but I didn’t think you felt the same way so I tried to find another guy who might fill the void and eventually fall in love with. I’m glad those other guys treated me like shit. Now I think it was the universe telling me that everything I needed was already right in front of me.”

“Are you fucking with me?” He looks at you with wide eyes.

“No,” You laugh incredulously.

“You drunk?” He waves his hand in front of your face as if that’s a test of your sobriety.

“No, I’m not just drunk.” You bring your hand up to caress his cheek and look deep into his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

“You’re sure?” Rick’s face is plastered with a huge grin.

“Yes,” You laugh. “I am head over heels in love with you.”

“Good, because I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” Rick grabs your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you.

At first, it’s soft, hesitant, but once you’re familiar with the feeling of each other’s lips, it becomes more passionate.

Rick kisses you with a fervor that you’ve never experienced before, it takes your breath away. The way his lips move against yours like they were made for each other, for fitting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

You can’t believe you’ve gone this long without it, but you know one thing, Now that you’ve had a taste, you’ll never give it up again, and Rick feels the same way.

You pull away first, desperate for air, but lean your forehead against his so you can stay close to him.

“That was just as amazing as I dreamed it would be.” You smile.

“You dream about me frequently?” Rick jokes.

“All the time.”

“You don’t have to dream anymore, baby, I’m all yours now.”

“Good because if your lips move like that when we’re kissing, I wanna see what they move like somewhere else.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Rick whispers like your statement has left him breathless.

“You have no idea what you just got yourself into, Rick Flag.”

#heather writes #rick flag fanfic #rick flag imagine #rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag fluff #rick flag x you #fanfic #joel kinnaman fanfic #self indulgence time

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jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—amortentia.

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: hogwarts/harry potter au / enemies-to-lovers + fluff

⟶ words: 5,486

⟶ rating: pg-13

⟶ summary: jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog since i know some of you were asking about it! i hope you enjoy!!

Jungkook loves strawberries.

He remembers fondly the warm summers as a child when he would go strawberry picking with his grandmother, and revels in the taste and the memory each time he bites into a fresh berry, the juices coating his tongue in sickly sweetness; he likes the smell of all the lotions and lip balms, candles and fragrances, that carried notes of the red fruit in comforting wafts, remembering distantly a time when his mother’s fruity perfume would breathe warm life into his cold house in the middle of a dull winter; he remembers sentimental times spent at the local cafe near his home, loving and basking in the way the homely and warm aroma of a freshly baked pie and the sugary tartness of strawberry lemonade would fill his nostrils and consume his senses, leaving his mouth watering.

Jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him.

Ask any girl that thought Jeon Jungkook is handsome or any boy that thought Jungkook is a god and they would say he smells like the purest form of any man with a harmonious scent of musk, cedar wood, and oak; like fresh rain that soaked in the middle of a mossy forest, spices, and black coffee — but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe he did smell of musk or wood or rain when he was continuously outside, practicing every moment he had with his Quidditch team, but Jungkook was more than just that. Really, though, it made sense as to why people thought that way about him when he had left such a lingering impression on the school.

You can still remember the very first day you saw him; the very moment you had, from your spot in line in front of the Sorting Hat on the first day as a first year, saw the stoic boy step forward. Made up of a nervous face and obsidian locks that fell into his equally dark eyes, the Hat had instantly deemed the boy a Ravenclaw — and perhaps the house’s reputation was what added to his mystique and strange charm. Even then, from what you observed, he had been a silent boy, making his way to and from classes usually alone, and somehow ignoring the gaggle of girls (from all years and from all houses) that trailed along behind him, giggling and clamouring over how cute he is.

As the months went on, you never witnessed much change in Jungkook safe for the friends he suddenly made in the first half of second year (a surprising mix of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins) and the smug attitude he began to develop. A rebel, they said, a bad boy at heart, the very antithesis of Ravenclaws. Someone all the girls craved for and all the boys yearned to be. And while you tried to assume that perhaps there was more to the boy than meets the eye — that maybe he was built on different layers you could one day explore — when he begins to become too conceited with the way he is praised, you grow disenchanted by him and his cocky smirks. Yet, for some reason, he finds it necessary to go out of his way to talk to you no matter what — and you were quick to learn to despise him and his constant mocking, all possibilities of trying to get to know him diffused.

In first year, you had to endure a whole semester worth of Jungkook tugging at your hair when he sat behind you in Charms class. In second year, an unspoken rivalry began in which the two of you would compete to see who could earn the better grades. You can’t quite pinpoint when or where the hatred for one another began, but the irritation that comes as a result of it only grows more adamant with each passing day.

In third year, you distinctly remember being confined to the many dusty oak shelves and rows of leather bound books in the library, your eyes constantly flickering to the ornate grandfather clock nearby you as you wait alone. An agreed time of 6 pm to meet in the library after dinner to work on a partnered assignment had otherwise vanished from the boy’s memory. Had it been up to you to decide what partner you wanted, you would have much rather preferred to pick one of your friends and not the Ravenclaw who was fifteen minutes late. With the project due in two days, and with the nearly three weeks you had to finish it, you had constantly asked to meet with Jungkook to work on it and each time he had made a different excuse.

As time crept on and the waning hours of the daylight dwindled to a dull darkness, twenty minutes would pass and it was then that you would grudgingly begin packing your belongings. The wait was not worth the trouble. Yet just as you are standing from your seat, the boy waltzes into view, coming to a nonchalant halt in front of you and placing his bag on the table, as if he didn’t know how late he is. He has abandoned his robe to wear only a grey fleece pullover on top of his white button up, his torn up Converse shoes ruining the uniform outfit with his casual flare. Your stare flickers up to meet his smug face and a frown forms on yours as you spot the other third year Slytherin girl giggling a flirtatious goodbye to the boy who winks in response. Finally, he turns to look at you.

“You’re leaving already?” Jungkook asks. “I just got here.”

“Twenty minutes later, Jeon,” You snap.

The boy quirks a brow, twisting around in his spot to look at the clock. “I could have sworn you said we should meet at six-thirty. I’m ten minutes early.”

“I remember saying six o’clock,” You say. “As well as you telling me that six was perfectly fine. Look, History of Magic isn’t my favourite either but I would appreciate it if you at least put some effort into the class and this project.”

“Shh!”

The hiss that comes from the student studying near you only makes you scowl. You turn around hotly to continue shoving your books and papers into your backpack.

“I was busy,” Jungkook says.

“Busy flirting with every living thing?” You asks.

“What?” Confusion paints his face, and then he is shaking his head furiously. “No!”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You point over your shoulder at the same Slytherin girl who is still within the library, standing just a few feet away from the pair of you. She has an opened book in her hands in an attempt to look distracted but her eyes are fixated solely on Jungkook. When she catches Jungkook staring, his gaze lifting over your shoulder, she hurriedly looks away and blushes.

“So I assume she’s just a friend?” You retaliate. “You know what your problem is, Jeon? You never take anything seriously.”

Immediately, Jungkook tenses. His arms snake around to cross in front of his chest.

“Well, you take everything too seriously,” he says. “When was the last time you had some fun? Any time I talk to you, you’re always fussing about the work or about how much you hate me— it’s like you’re a walking, talking, breathing dementor! You suck the life out of everyone.”

“Shh!”

The snarl this time is much harsher, coming from yet another student who has been devoting his time to writing an essay. But now you can’t be bothered to worry about silence. You slam shut the book in your hand with a very loud thump that seems to echo around the eerily silent room and fling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry that I, and this assignment, are such inconveniences to you,” You say, “but from now on I give up on making sure we both don’t fail this class. If you need me, which I assume you won’t, I’ll be in my room, far from you.”

“Excuse me!” The familiar bark of the librarian’s voice hardly makes you jump even as she comes marching down to the two of you. “This is a library, a quiet place to study. It would be greatly appreciated if you could bring your conversation out into the halls.”

Had she not interrupted your conversation with Jungkook, you would have never realized just how loud your voice had risen. Clearing your throat and tightening your grip on your bag and the book, you tear your eyes from Jungkook and stomp defiantly out into the corridors to retreat to your common room, leaving Jungkook alone. He would find you the day after in a sluggish state, his hair dishevelled and his clothes askew as if he had slept in them — or, rather, had not slept at all — showing you all the work he had finished for the assignment the night before.

In fourth year, you are leaving the stands of the Quidditch pitch on a surprisingly warm November evening. Following the slew of students back to the school after a heated game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor — where the latter team won after a fiery race between the two Seekers for the golden snitch — the eager chatter buzzes in the air. Beside you are your two friends who are, just as many others are doing, whispering excitedly about Jungkook’s role as Seeker and his “amazing performance.”

“Did you see the way Jungkook played?” Hana asks from the right side of you. “How can someone be so attractive?”

To your left, Nayeon is practically standing on the tip of her toes, desperately craning her neck to search the crowd for the boy and his friends. “Oooh, look! There he is! He’s so sweaty! Imagine his muscles—”

“You’re ridiculous,” You sigh with a disapproving shake of your head.

Despite your condescending tone, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to follow your friends’ gaze. Laughing in triumph with his team and friends, Jungkook stands adorned in the usual Ravenclaw royal blue Quidditch uniform, the robes somehow accentuating his tanned skin and dark hair that clings to his sweat-covered forehead. Since when had he grown so tall? And maybe Nayeon was right — since when did Jungkook start looking so muscular?

“Your staring is obvious, Y/N,” Hana says.

“And so is your crush on him,” Nayeon murmurs.

“Crush?” You burst out into laughter. “Now that’s funny. I could never have a crush on him!”

“Have a crush on who?”

The familiar voice makes you groan inwardly and the arm that is tossed around your neck almost makes you gag. Your body grows rigid under Jungkook’s touch, though he doesn’t seem to notice that or the way you carefully try to peel his arm off of you but to no avail. Joining him is his typical duo of friends. The other Slytherin boy next to Jungkook is the shy and soft Park Jimin, accompanied by their inseparable Hufflepuff friend, Kim Taehyung. The two boys smirk wolfishly down at your friends, both of whom are so suddenly at a loss for words.

“Evenin’, ladies!” Jimin says. “Enjoy the show?”

“We hate to brag but we taught him everything he knows,” Taehyung says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and swats Taehyung’s hand away. “Maybe the three of you can come down to watch us practice one day.”

Your friends exchange glances and giggle nervously.

“We’d love to,” Nayeon smiles.

Your lack of response clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, nor Jungkook and his friends. As you turn your head to look away from the group, you briefly catch the sudden scent that is Jungkook and your face scrunches. It isn’t so much as gross as it is overpowering. Passed salt and sweat, you can smell something clean like freshly cut grass or some sort of lemongrass shampoo. But instead of telling him out loud what you thought, you pushed him away.

“You smell terrible,” You said. “Go take a shower, Jeon.”

“Always playing hard to get,” Jungkook sighs. “Sorry we can’t all smell like your floraly essence after playing an intense Quidditch game.”

You only hum in response, turning your head to look away from him and his friends. The act seems to earn a smirk from Jungkook and then he and his friends are parting from you, walking back to the locker rooms. After that day, your friends’ profuse pleads and begs for you to come with them one day when the Quidditch teams are practicing would eventually make you cave in. When Jungkook sees you sitting in the stands burrowed in a wool scarf and heavy robes, albeit with a frown on your face and your eyes scanning the pages of a book in your lap, he catches your attention by shouting your name and then winking at you. Seconds later, a Quaffle is thrown his way by a fellow teammate and nearly knocks him off his broom.

In fifth year, you are seated in your Transfiguration class at the back and nearly dozing off as your Professor drones on and on in the early morning about some boring lecture. Jungkook sits in the row opposite you and a seat behind but that doesn’t stop him from constantly trying to catch your attention, whispering your name. It is only when you hear a few classmates near you break out into wondrous awes that you lift your head from its resting place wedged between your folded arms on top of your desk and turn. Soaring above the students’ heads is an enchanted paper bird, its thin wings fluttering its way to you.

You gaze at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before noticing that it is Jungkook who had magicked it, wand in hand as he waves it towards you. As soon as it reaches your table, it floats around your head and lingers in front of your face, beckoning you to take it. Instead, your hands try swatting it away though it doesn’t seem to budge. When you relent and succumb to taking the bird, it is not before you shoot an annoyed glance back at Jungkook. Then, you unwrap the bird in your hand. With thin black ink sprawled out in perfect cursive writing, a single dreadful question is poised in pretty script: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be my treat.

“Is that from Jungkook?” Hana asks. She peers over your shoulder from beside you to look down at the paper, her voice incredibly louder than you would have liked. “It is! Is he asking you out? You know, I always knew you liked him. You’re a terrible liar— ”

You gasp. Your hand quickly covers the paper, yanking it out of Hana’s view. “I do not like him!”

“Do too!” Hana laughs. “So, what are you going to say? Huh, who knew Jungkook was so soft and cute? Have I told you how cute the two of you would be together?”

Maybe it’s the way she so suddenly begins to gush over you dating Jungkook, or the way her voice garners the attention of those sitting around you, letting other girls fawn over how cute his simple gesture is, that makes you curdle with embarrassment. But what are you so shy of? You are insistent that you don’t like Jungkook but you were certain that if word spread that you did have feelings for him, your whole life would be drastically ruined. Or maybe you were more fearful of the idea of possibly liking Jungkook in return, even if you had so profusely been lying to everyone and yourself.

“Stop it!” You hiss. “I would rather kiss the squid in the Black Lake than date him!”

Then, as if to emphasize this apparent hatred, you grab your quill and furiously write in big scratchy letters “NO” before crumpling it in your hand and twisting in your seat. Set on chucking the balled up piece of paper right at Jungkook’s smug face, you are startled when you feel the paper being plucked from your grasp by none other than your Professor. She stands before you with a sour look on her face, a willowy old lady with gray wisps of hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Ah, Miss Y/N,” she hums, “if you have more important matters that you seem to want to discuss with Mr. Jeon, surely you can divulge with the rest of the class too.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You watch, stricken with horror, as she unravels the paper in her hands, her glossy eyes skimming its contents from beneath her half-moon spectacles. She purses her lips, and then shifts her gaze to you and then to Jungkook sitting behind you. The silence that follows as she moves towards him is near unbearable, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“If you would have much rather preferred to flirt with Miss Y/N than listen to my lecture, feel free to leave my class, Jeon,” Your Professor says. She drops the paper onto his desk with a flourish. “Though, it’d be in your best interest to stop your daydreaming and pay attention to my class because I’m afraid her answer was no.”

Your eyes widen as you twist in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited stare falter as a look of hurt flashes across his eyes. A few murmurs and giggles break out amongst the students, making your cheeks burn hot and forces you to turn back around and away from Jungkook.

“And I suppose that now neither of you are busy tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind spending it in detention with me,” Your Professor says. Then she was rounding on her heel, marching back to the front of the classroom and restarting her lecture.

After the torturous detention where Jungkook suddenly refuses to look or talk to you after what had happened, and a week after the missed Hogsmeade trip, you would find Jungkook walking the halls, hand-in-hand, with another Ravenclaw girl. As they pass you, seemingly unaware of your lingering presence, you see the girl stop Jungkook and lean forward to kiss him, his own hands resting on her waist and tugging her closer to him. Though you tell yourself you’re free from his constant flirting and mocking, you can’t help but feel somewhat let down as you walk away that day.

In the beginning of sixth year, when all the students had found a moment to themselves and a much needed break from all the sudden stress of homework, you would wind up at a party being held in the Room of Requirements. Though you weren’t quite sure how the students were able to smuggle alcohol into the school, you remember drinking until you are blissfully numb and without a care in the world. Most of the evening had been spent chatting to Nayeon and Hana but when they become distracted with flirting with their crushes, you are left alone. It isn’t much long after that you stumble into Jungkook. Drunkenly dancing to the upbeat thump of music that reverberated around the room, you had, somehow, lost your footing. As you fall into the thick crowd, a pair of strong hands reach out to swiftly catch onto yours arms and hold you up. Jungkook’s surprised when you don’t bother pushing him away and let him help straighten you up. Clearly, you’re much too drunk to function, and he makes sure to hold you at a comfortable distance away from him. Then, there, under the dim lights of the room, you are met with his typical smirk tugging at his luscious pink lips (which you find yourself gazing at for longer than necessary).

“Ah, if it isn’t Jeon Jungkook,” You rasp. You sway dangerously in his hold and nearly fall to the floor again. He tightens his grip on you and catches you once more before you can slip away. “What do you want from me tonight?”

“Hey, you bumped into me. I’m just being nice and making sure you don’t face-plant the floor.”

“Yeah, but of course you had to be right beside me. I think I’d rather have face-planted the floor.”

He quirks a brow. He feigns dropping you, momentarily loosening his grip just enough for you to come flailing forward with a yelp of surprise. He doesn’t let you fall too far, though, and catches onto you swiftly once more, hooking his arm around your waist. When you meet his stare with a scowl, he grins. “You were saying?”

“Do you remember that one time you told me I never have fun?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, well, you say a lot of shit to me,” You say. “But that stuck out the most. You called me a dementor. A dementor. My thirteen year old self never forgot that.”

Jungkook winces at how carefree you seemed to say it, at how you still remembered it three years later. His hands drop from you once you’re steady and he runs his fingers through his locks, softly pushing them up and out of his eyes before they ultimately fall flat against his forehead once more.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I mean, look at you now. You seem to be having a lot of fun. How drunk are you anyway?”

“It’s not fun when it feels like I’m trying to prove a point to you,” You sigh. “But I already know you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “You’re the one who doesn’t care about me.”

You burst out into a fit of mocking laughter and shake your head at him. Swaying forward, almost precariously close to him, you tap the tip of his nose with your finger. “Jeon Jungkook, you can be real oblivious.”

And then you are kissing him, pressing your soft lips to his. He doesn’t push you away, albeit however incredibly surprised he may be. Instead, as he feels your lips move against his, he finds himself basking in everything that is you. All he can smell is your floral perfume and, passed the liquor that stained your lips, could taste your peach lip balm and the bubble gum you had been chewing earlier in the night. He hates how much he loves it. His hands lift to rest on either side of your face and he gently brings you closer to him, his tongue laving at your peach flavoured lower lip. He hears you moan softly in content as you melt against his chest, your fingers suddenly tugging desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s then that you realize that all you can smell is the scent of freshly cut grass and his lemony shampoo, but all you can taste is something warm and sugary that feels all too comforting.

You come to the conclusion in your drunken mind that you would have loved to keep kissing him. That, maybe, kissing Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so bad. But then just as suddenly as you had kissed him, he is pulling away from you, sending you crashing and burning down from your reverie. With swollen pink lips, wide eyes, and dishevelled hair, Jungkook shakes his head abruptly and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He flees from your grasp and from the party before you can stop him — and it is in that moment that you began to hate Jungkook, but not more than you hate yourself for actually enjoying the way it felt to kiss someone like him. You would never learn why he had left so soon until much later when he tells you that he didn’t want you to regret anything you did drunk — didn’t want you to regret kissing someone like him when you had seemed to hate him for years prior.

In the second half of sixth year, when you begin to fail Potions, your Professor does what he thinks is best and pairs you with Jungkook, the smartest student in his class. Hearing that Jungkook, of all people, is remarkable at Potions doesn’t come as a surprise. You are quick to learn just why he had been placed into Ravenclaw, carrying their impressive ambition and intelligence. If anything, you are almost jealous of how easily he seems to pick up on things and can reproduce them at top notch quality.

Your friendship with him is still strained and is perhaps even worse than it had once been ever since the night of the party. Neither of you talk about the moment and, from what either of you were concerned, both of you had long since forgotten the night had ever happened. Unbeknownst to you is that when Jungkook sees how cold and distant you become in the days after, he refuses to tell you the truth that the kiss is always on his mind. So, when you are forced to work with him for any assignments or in-class work, most of your conversations end in constant bickering. Miraculously, somehow, your grades do gradually begin to pick up.

One day, when you both walk into class, you are greeted to the sight of a smoldering cauldron placed neatly on top of your Professor’s desk, a beautiful scent filling the room that seems to be coming specifically from whatever has been brewing. The liquid contents within contains a mother-of-pearl sheen and clear smoke spirals from it in wisps. As soon as everyone is seated at their desks, your Professor steps forward and begins his lecture.

“Good evening, class!” he chirps. “Today we have a very exciting lecture that has to do with what is currently sitting on my desk. Now, can anyone tell me what exactly it is?”

A few shouts of guesses are tossed into the air but all are wrong as your Professor simply shakes his head. Jungkook raises his hand casually and your Professor points enthusiastically at him.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“It’s Amortentia,” he says.

“Right you are, my boy!” Your Professor beams. “Five points to Ravenclaw! This is, in fact, Amortentia. Now, for those of you who do not know what it is, that is perhaps all the best. But as it is, it’s important to educate you on the various effects each potion can have on a being and why someone should, or should not, administer it. Amortentia, simply put, is a love potion.”

Gasps of awe and murmurs from certain students circulate the room as your Professor carries on.

“And not just any love potion — the most powerful love potion in the world,” he says. “If anyone were to receive such a potion, it would cause an intense infatuation and obsession on the drinker. However, the potion must be continuously administered to the drinker or else the effects will wear off and the drinker will regain his or her conscience and free will. Now, if you ever wanted to know how to identify Amortentia, you can rely on its very distinct smell. Differing on the person who smells it, it will always morph into the scent of whomever you desire most. For instance, I smell lemon drops, toothpaste, and parchment paper. You may all smell something different.”

A handful of students lean forward in their seat, desperately moving closer to the cauldron and the potion that carried such charming scents. Despite not wanting to show your immediate interest in something as strange as a love potion, you sit back in your seat but inhale a slow, deep breath of air and the scent that makes your heart skip a beat. It would pose as an obstacle to focusing on the lecture as your Professor carried on, though you find you’re not the only one so easily distracted by it. Halfway through the class, he stops his lecture and informs the students of their task for the evening: replicating Amortentia perfectly with the help of the partner sitting next to them.

So, you and Jungkook immediately head to work, beginning the tedious process of preparing ingredients and brewing the potion. Naturally, your own potion brewing goes faster than others as Jungkook seems to know what to do with everything. For the most part, you sit back and watch, as Jungkook refuses your help any time you offer, claiming you would only just slow him down. When it’s done, and the entire class is still halfway through theirs, you fold your arms over your chest and look up at Jungkook, noting the way his eyebrows scrunch together as he peers down at the glistening potion.

“I can’t smell anything,” You say. “Did you even do this right?”

Jungkook grimaces, though his stare falters. He doesn’t admit it aloud, but he worries for a moment that maybe he isn’t as good at Potions as he thought he was. In the next second, he scowls and shoots you a look.

“What kind of question is that?” he asks. “Of course I did it right! I followed everything properly. It even looks perfect.”

“Well, obviously it isn’t perfect if neither of us can smell anything,” You say.

“Well,” Jungkook says, irritated, “maybe if you didn’t bathe yourself in your ridiculous floral perfume, I could smell something.”

“Me?” Your mouth drops open in an appalled gap. “Now it’s my fault? You’re one to talk. Did you have practice this morning? All I can smell is grass and your stupid lemon shampoo or whatever it is. It’s disgusting.”

The bickering continues on between the two of you until you’ve seemingly grabbed the attention of the entire class. Near the very end of the period, it’s Taehyung who finally says something, leaning back in his chair to look at the two of you.

“Jungkook didn’t have practice this morning,” he says. “He also didn’t shower because he slept in late. Or did you forget that, Jungkook?”

“And Y/N?” Nayeon chimes in from beside you. “Didn’t you run out of your perfume last week?”

Jungkook clamps his mouth shut. Your own heart stops. Suddenly, your face is burning intensely and Jungkook’s own cheeks are pinched a bright red as, slowly, the realization seems to dawn on the both of you. Chuckles emit from your friends as your Professor signals that the time is up. You don’t dare look at Jungkook as your Professor grades each potion, and then anxiously await the chance to dash out the door when your Professor claims yours and Jungkook’s potion was done just perfect. As soon as he moves on to the next pair, you have gathered your belongings and have darted out the room. You are nearly halfway down the corridor when you hear Jungkook calling after you, begging you to stop.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wait up, please!”

Your feet quicken in pace as you round the corner. Just when you think you’re free, you feel a hand clasp around your wrist and pull you back into a hardened figure. Jungkook. He’s standing so incredibly close to you now, his gaze softening as he looks you once over. You can only avoid his stare, though your eyes fall to the distraction that is his hand clamped around your wrist.

“I really am not in the mood to talk right now, Jungkook,” You mumble. “Just leave me alone.”

“What else did you smell?” Jungkook asks.

His question makes you stop. It’s what causes you to carefully lift your stare to look at him.

“What?” You stammer. “What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, please,” he says, his grip tightening around your wrist. “I need to know.”

You could have shaken your head at him, pushed him away and walked off, but the longer you stare at him, the faster you begin to cave. Your mind is instantly brought back to just moments ago and the love potion that had filled your senses. As you think about all the lovely things you could smell, you whisper the answer in a sheepish voice:

“Strawberries.”

There is a split moment where all you can see is Jungkook’s beaming grin before he is pulling you toward him for a kiss that nearly sweeps you off your feet. You collapse against his broad chest, your hands flying up to bundle in his shirt and pull at him tightly as he kisses you and kisses you. You wonder why he had done so spontaneously but then it seems to hit you.

All you can smell on Jungkook, all you can taste, is lemon, grass, and strawberries.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

#btsbookclub #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fluff #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jeongguk fluff #jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongguk fluff #bts fanfic #bts oneshots #bangtan #hogwarts au bts

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cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Fine Line (Harry Styles x Reader)

WARNINGS: darkish themes, slight dubious consent, drug use, this is the tamest thing I’ve ever written

! PLEASE DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @lootbox

summary: your friendship with Harry has teetered on the edge of something more for years, the lines blurring until they were hardly visible. Harry has grown tired of this game

You could feel his eyes on you.

You could always feel them on you, the heat of his gaze so suffocating in a way that was hard to ignore. You didn’t even have to turn around to see the way his pink lips were pressed together, jaw clenching ever so slightly as the green of his eyes darkened just a tad. You’d witnessed it enough times to picture it as clear as day in your mind. A shudder passed through you, and the handsome blond before you noticed.

He was some lanky fratboy type, a bit too into himself, but a nice distraction nonetheless. The rowdy bar was filled with a seedy crowd of prospects, the pickings slim, and the man before you seemed like the best route to go. You hadn’t even wanted to come out, but Harry had given you some half-assed tale, voice gruff on the other end of the phone, as to why you should when Sarah had suggested the idea. His drummer loved a night out on the town.

It wasn’t shocking to find the brown-haired boy occupied with a fiery-haired model type whose smile seemed a tad bit wide. You had scanned the crowd for any other members of his backup band, but upon failing to find a familiar face, you’d reluctantly made your way to the bar. That was how you’d run into Tyler, the fair-haired man’s eyes lighting up the minute he noticed you. You took a sip out of the drink he’d bought you.

“Cold?” he wondered, and you started to shake your head, but decided against it.

How could you explain to him that your shivers had nothing to do with the temperature but instead the paralyzing gaze of your friend?

“A little,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

Ever the gentleman, or simply a guy who knew how to play the game to get what he wanted, he peeled his own jacket off. You took in the way his shirt clung to him, and as you raised your brows at his exposed arms, you thought to yourself that he wasn’t as lanky as you believed. Maybe the night would prove to be more fruitful than you thought. He’d only just moved to throw it around you when he paused, and even before his dark eyes fell onto something behind you, you knew what had made him stop. That suffocating heat clung to your back, draping over you like a blanket, much like the arm that found its way over your shoulder.

“I didn’t see you come in.”

His chest rumbled with the low timber of his voice as he pulled you against him, his hand coming around to brush his fingers along your exposed collarbone. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but couldn’t hold back your grimace as the man before you flickered his gaze between you and the brunette at your back. His face fell, and even though you’d still been undecided on whether or not you were going to go home with him, you still mourned the loss of the possibility.

“Oh...uh-.”

“Oh, hey man. Harry,” your friend introduced himself, and you almost sneered at the way he pretended to only just notice the person you’d been talking to.

He stuck his hand out, but Tyler only responded with a forced smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he tersely said before his gaze fell onto you. “...you too. It was nice talking to you.”

The disappointment in both his eyes and voice was almost enough to make you tell him that the guy behind you wasn’t a boyfriend. Far from it even, but Harry’s deep chuckle stopped you from calling the man back, and you turned to face him with a frown.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

You downed the rest of your drink before walking past him, and Harry kept up with your pace, hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck as his stride matched yours.

“...and what have I done?”

“You know what you did,” you complained with a scoff.

“You’ll thank me later, love. That guy looked much too tame for you.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you shook your head.

“I’m going home. I shouldn’t have come out anyway,” you grumbled, and surprise filled you when Harry followed you to the door.

“I guess I’ll be joining you then. Not much worth giving my attention to in there…”

You glanced up at him just as the door of the bar shut behind you, cutting off the noise of customers and drunkards alike.

“The redhead looked interesting enough,” you commented.

He didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again, his eyes were on you.

“Paying much attention to us, were you?”

You shoved him away from you, and his laugh reached your ears.

“Hardly. You were the one who begged me to come out remember? The least you could do is greet me at the door.”

You yelped when Harry wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“Missed me?”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, and you ignored the way his gaze zeroed in on you, like he was trying to devour you and figure you out all at the same time.

“...and if I said yes?”

He ran his eyes over your face, the green of them a tad brighter from the glow of the moon, a cool breeze ruffling his dark curls.

“Then I’d have to remind you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Unable to hold his gaze, something you’re rarely able to do, you glanced away. Your eyes found the sidewalk as Harry continued his trek, pulling you into his side. The warmth of him seeped through your dress and clung to your skin, like every part of him seemed to do. Your friendship with the former teen band member turned rockstar was very...strange.

You’d met years ago, only months before the release of his first album. You’d been the friend of a friend and had met at some party hosted by someone you couldn’t even name now. You were a different person then. Legs wobbly and brain fuzzy from the many drinks you’d downed, you’d mistaken Harry for your boyfriend.

The singer had had no desire to correct you as you fisted your hands in his hair, tongue halfway down his throat as he basked in the taste of some fruity drink on it. The lighting at the party had been dim, and you’d only realized your mistake when you were seconds away from shoving your hand down his pants in some bedroom. The empty boudoir had been bathed in light, and you still remembered the way he’d laughed when realization hit you. You were embarrassed as you stumbled into the hallway and downstairs, in search of your boyfriend.

That particular relationship ended up not lasting another week, and the next time you met Harry, it had been a much more formal setting. You’d officially been introduced and could hardly meet Harry’s eye as he shook your hand, a teasing smile on his lips. Despite the interesting start to your friendship, it was one that grew to stand the testament of time. Harry meant the world to you, and you were the first person he’d call when he had too much to drink and needed a place to crash. Your friendship was great…

...if you ignored the tension.

A heavy air had descended over your friendship forever ago, perhaps from the first night you’d met, and it had never seemed to go away. You could never pinpoint what it was or where it stemmed from, but it was there in the way Harry’s fingers tapped along your thigh while he drove. Or the way he’d wrap his arm around your neck when you’d be standing with your friends, nose brushing over your hair every once in a while. Or the way he’d find his way into your bed during the early hours of the morning when he stayed over, burying his face into your neck, sleep claiming him once again.

For so long, your relationship teetered on that line between friends and something more. You’d thought that all friendships were different and this was just how yours was, but eventually you had to admit it to yourself that the lines were blurred. They always had been, and you wondered to yourself how you’d ever begin to unblur them. That was what you wanted right?

“You mind if I crash at yours t’night? Your pullout is more comfortable than my bed.”

Harry’s voice pulled you from your trance, and you gave him a shaky nod. With a crooked smile, he pulled you closer, burying his nose into your hair as he led you to your apartment. The rest of the walk was quiet, and the silence felt heavy for some reason as you finally walked up the stairs. You guessed that Harry had way more to drink than you did because he wasted no time before heading to take a shower, clearly desperate to get what you guessed was some much needed sleep.

He’d made a habit of leaving clothes over at your place, so finding something to place on the bathroom counter for him was no hard task. The low timbre that was his voice could be heard as he hummed a few notes, and you busied yourself with warming up some leftovers, determined to get the taste of alcohol out of your mouth. You were done eating by the time he came out, and you wondered to yourself why this always happened.

If things between the two of you were tense and bordering the line of something more around your friends, then it was something else entirely when you two were alone. Harry liked to study you, emerald eyes focused on you any chance they got as he gave you his undivided attention. It made you feel like every twitch of your jaw, every frown, every grimace was accounted for. Nothing concerning you got past him.

Harry watched you like a lover.

“There’s plenty more in there,” you told him as he made his way into the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t eat so late,” he chided, and as you glanced at the ‘3:00’ on the microwave, you supposed that he was right.

You shrugged before standing, moving to put your dishes in the sink. You could feel him behind you, and you ignored the way goosebumps broke out over your skin. You weren’t surprised when his arms came around you, the appendages pulling you back into his chest. You glanced down at the ink that covered his arms and swallowed.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

Confusion filled you at his question, but you answered nonetheless.

“No. Why?”

You tilted your head to look at him, eyes widening a bit as you realized your lips were a hair’s width away from each other.

“Niall’s in town. He’s throwing a little get together and wants you to come…”

Something in his eyes gave you pause, and you got the feeling that he didn’t want you to go. Was it because you had a habit of letting go at any party you went to? Or was it because you and Niall got along so well? Almost as well as you and Harry. You resisted the urge to sigh at yourself, telling yourself that you were overthinking it. Maybe Harry didn’t want to go and was looking for an excuse not to.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t seen the blond singer in over a year and missed him too much.

“Sure! Just let me know what time…”

Harry swept his gaze over you, so quickly you thought you’d imagined it, before sending you a tight smile.

“Great.”

He left you, and as you turned back to your dishes and Harry made quick work of pulling out the couch, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t think it was so great.

“I miss the blonde.”

That was the first thing you’d said to Niall, and he only laughed before pulling you into a tight hug. He hadn’t been around for nearly a year, but it did nothing to deter people from showing up. You could hardly move through the large apartment without brushing shoulders with someone. Harry had long left you to get something to drink, but you surmised that the brunette got distracted with either a familiar face or a pretty one. Maybe both.

By now you were way more relaxed than you were when you arrived, alcohol coursing through your system as you chatted with Mitch and Charlotte. The guitarist and piano player were catching you up on what you and Harry had missed last night after you left the bar. Something about cheating boyfriends and a fight. You were mid laugh when you glanced over and made eye contact with someone you thought you’d never see again.

An old flame. Someone whose name you didn’t even want to speak let alone think. You two had never been official or anything, keeping things casual, but the eventual fall out had been messy and certainly wasn’t something you wanted to revisit. His jet black hair looked as neat as ever, bright eyes wide from some fashion drug, no doubt, and you suddenly had the urge to hide yourself away.

“I’ll be right back. Need to use the bathroom,” you told the pair before you.

You excused yourself before they had a chance to reply, making your way down the extensive hallway before depositing yourself in the very last room. You didn’t even know that him and Niall were friends, but you couldn’t blame the Irish singer for his actions. Your fling with the man in there had been lowkey, kept under wraps, so it’s not like Niall would’ve known.

Harry did though, and luckily for you, he was the one that intruded on your solitude.

“There you are,” he drawled, closing the door behind him. “I saw Andy come in...figured I’d find you hiding somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes with a shrug.

“I’m a coward. What else is new?”

You started to stand, but paused when Harry joined you on the bed, reaching into his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he started, pulling out the blunt and a lighter. “I had planned to welcome Niall back properly, but I think you need it more than him.”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in your throat, no attempt to deny his statement. You accepted as he passed it to you, unable to remember the last time you’d gotten high. You didn’t know how many minutes passed like that, the both of you sitting next to each other in silence, but eventually, like always, you felt Harry’s gaze on you. It was warm and pressing, and when you looked up at him, he didn’t bother to look away.

He was never ashamed of getting caught.

“Why do you do that?” you suddenly asked him.

“Do what?” he wondered.

The smirk on his pink lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes told you that he knew exactly what you were talking about, and you told him as such. His smirk simply grew, and when you reached for the blunt, he held it out of reach. You didn’t know what game he was playing at, but he brought it up to his lips instead, and your eyes widened with realization as he neared you. You knew what Harry was going to do, and while you were unsure if you wanted him to, you didn’t make any moves to stop him. You were paralyzed.

The last time you kissed Harry, you could barely remember what it felt like...what he’d felt like. Not this time. His lips met yours, the feel of them soft and tasting faintly of alcohol. For a moment, you forgot that he wasn’t just kissing you, and your eyes fell closed as you basked in the feel of him. Parting your lips, you inhaled the smoke that escaped his own, and your lashes fluttered at the feel. Harry held himself there for a moment, letting you breathe it all in before eventually pulling away.

Your heart was pounding.

There was a grin on his face when his eyes met yours again, and you watched in awe as he stood up, holding out his hand. As you took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet, you wondered to yourself how he did it. How could he be so casual while you were still reeling, feeling like you’d inhaled not only the smoke, but him as well? How could he take your friendship in his hands and dance along the line so well? Getting so close, but never fully crossing it.

It amazed you and terrified you in ways that left your head spinning.

The rest of the party went by without incident, and you and Andy avoided each other like the plague. Or perhaps, he could have been avoiding you. Harry’s constant presence might have contributed to that. Even now, as you relaxed in the backseat with Harry while Niall gave you a ride back to your place, you could recall the feather light touches of Harry’s fingers on your arm, your shoulder, your neck and even your back.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you both waved Niall goodbye, telling him you’d see him tomorrow. Harry, having way more to drink than you did, was a bit unsteady on his feet, but was far from wasted. However, you wondered how true that really was when your back met the wall the minute the door was closed. Harry was closer than he ever was, hands pressed into the wall at your sides, nose brushing over yours.

Too shocked by the position you found yourself in, you merely stared at the brunette. Your lips parted, but no words came out, and his green gaze was drawn to the action. Reminding yourself that you needed to breathe, you did so, heart skipping a beat when your chest brushed against his with the action. There was that look again, like he was trying to devour you and figure you out all at once, and you brushed your tongue over your bottom lip.

“Harry, I think that you’re…”

Your words died on your tongue when Harry’s lips met yours for the second time that night. This wasn’t like your first kiss all those years ago where you were drunk and thought he was your boyfriend. It wasn’t even like the one earlier that only served a purpose to get you a little high. This was a real kiss, one done with the intention of creating butterflies in your stomach and pulling moans from your throat. You didn’t know why Harry was kissing you, and while this uncharted territory scared you and made you want to shrink in on yourself, you couldn’t find the strength to voice your fears.

Harry’s hands were on your neck, fingers grazing the hair at the nape as he tilted your head whichever way he liked. His lips completely covered yours, leading in a way you’d never experienced before. You’d kissed a lot of guys, some of them bad, some of them great, but none like Harry. Every brush of his fingers had you trembling, and a low whine had climbed out of your throat just as your phone rang.

Startled by the sound, you both jumped apart, and you pressed your hand to your mouth as you stared at him with wide eyes. You were positive that your apprehension and confusion was clear as day in your eyes, but Harry’s heated gaze reflected nothing of the sort. You swallowed at the way they darkened, the hunger in them as they narrowed, almost daring you to answer the call. Against your better judgement, you did just that, and hurriedly brushed past him as your mother started talking on the other end.

You had locked your door that night, and if Harry had tried to give into his usual habit of sleeping in your bed in the early hours of the morning, you were none the wiser. He had been gone when you woke up, and you didn’t even bother to swallow your sigh of relief. You hadn’t been ready to face him, ready to confront the shift in your relationship, and even an entire week later, that hadn’t changed. You’d always been a coward, but now there was no denying it.

You were avoiding Harry.

Most of his texts were only replied to with one or two word answers, and any talk of meeting up was deterred with some half assed excuse you’d come up with. You didn’t know how to navigate this new territory you found yourself in. You didn’t even know if you liked Harry in that way. Of course, someone would be a fool not to, but you’d never been the smartest of the bunch. Your apprehension was because of more than just him being an international heartthrob though.

Harry always behaved in a way that blurred the lines of your friendship. There was a time when you accepted that it was just who he was, but you were forced to rethink that when you noticed that he didn’t behave that way with anyone else. There were a few moments over the years where you wondered if he was just biding his time, teasing you with his intentions, dangling the inevitable in your face time and time again.

It was clear that he’d gotten tired of teasing.

Unfortunately, with Niall in town, you couldn’t avoid the man forever. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t refuse Niall when he’d asked you to come out on one of his last nights. Even though you knew Harry would be there. It was how you found yourself stepping inside of the dark club with a grimace.

Neon lighting lit up the establishment, and you could hardly hear yourself think with how loud the music was. With the daunting crowd before you, it was a miracle that Niall had even spotted you, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards whatever table they’d claimed for the night. He was there. Even with your eyes fixated on your feet, you could feel that suffocating stare that never failed to make your stomach turn.

Only you could never figure out if it was in a good way or bad one.

You slid in across from him, and you finally lifted your eyes to meet his green ones. As usual, he was shameless in his perusal, dark curls resting messily on his head in a way that only he could pull off. He was sipping on a drink he’d bought, head tilted ever so slightly at you as he smirked behind the glass. Unable to hold firm under his scrutiny and judgement, you excused yourself under the guise of getting a drink.

You had to lean against the counter as you made it to the bar, taking a few deep breaths. You thought to yourself that this night was going to be harder than you thought, and with that, you ordered the strongest drink you could think of. The bartender had just walked away when you were startled by the sight of familiar hands pressing into the bar on either side of you. You felt his chest at your back a moment later, and you both sharply inhaled at the same time.

“Why ‘ave you been avoiding me?”

You weren’t surprised that he got straight to the point, so you decided to follow his lead.

“You kissed me,” was your simple response.

He didn’t respond right away, and if possible, you felt him step closer, chest flush against your back now. You felt him lean in, and your skin pricked when his lips grazed your ear.

“Did you not want me to?” he lowly asked.

The question seemed rhetorical in nature, but you answered anyway.

“Yes...no… I don’t know,” you sighed.

Against your better judgement, you turned around in the cage he’d made of himself, and your eyes met his as your back pressed into the bar.

“We’re friends, Harry,” you told him.

His eyes glinted with something that struck fear into you, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards into a mocking smirk.

“We’ve never been friends...and you know it.”

You didn’t respond to his words, to what you had long been denying, and instead you looked to the ground.

“I like what we have,” you murmured. “I don’t know if I want you in that way.”

“Then let me help you find out,” he whispered.

Those words traveled straight to your stomach, and you ignored the heat that flared within you. You turned to grab your drink that the bartender brought, and Harry slowly straightened, releasing you. Without meeting his eyes again, you rushed past him to join your friends. The tense air between you two remained for the rest of the night. Despite how much you wanted to just leave, you didn’t want to disappoint Niall, and so you endured it.

You put up with Harry’s heated and predatory gaze. You endured that mocking look in his eyes, equally scornful smirk on his lips every time your stare met his. Even when you found yourself on the dance floor, his fingers dancing along whatever sliver of skin you’d decided to show. However, if you were being honest, that wasn’t something you forced yourself to endure. The trail of fire that his fingers left in their wake proved that.

Unsurprisingly, you had your limit, and the time came where you couldn’t take anymore.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” you told Niall, pulling him into a hug.

“You’re no fun anymore. It’s not even 12! I remember when you didn’t even slow down til 4,” he chuckled.

“It’s just one of those days,” you sighed.

He let you go, and you waved everyone goodbye. The only one who didn’t return it was Harry, and you got the feeling that he had no intentions of wishing you a good night.

Not yet.

You took a much needed shower when you got home, and the hot water did the trick of washing your stress away. Even in the confines of your bathroom, you could still feel Harry’s hungry gaze, and you wondered to yourself if this was it. If this was the point of no return for your friendship. Body still buzzing with the after effects of Harry’s presence, you decided to clean up the apartment a bit. When that was done, you cooked a snack, no mind given to how late it was.

It was a little under 2 hours later, nearing 2 in the morning, when there was a knock on your door. Despite the fact that you knew who it was, a sinking feeling in your gut that told you all you needed to know, you still asked.

“It’s Harry,” he drawled, and you noted that he didn’t sound drunk.

You didn’t know if that relieved you or not.

With a sigh, you stood in front of the door for what felt like the longest time. You debated with yourself on whether or not to let him in. Despite the weird limbo the two of you seemed to be in, he was still your friend, and yet… Somehow...you knew… You knew that if you let him in, your friendship would change forever. You didn’t know how you knew, but you just knew. Still, eventually you sighed and reached for the door, telling yourself that such a prediction was not a guarantee.

Harry’s eyes were clouded with something you couldn’t -or didn’t want to- name as you opened the door. He’d taken off his jacket, and you wondered how the cold didn’t affect his bare arms. Neither one of you said anything as he strode inside, and you quickly turned to face him as you closed the door. You didn’t like the idea of turning your back to him. You pressed yourself to the door as he merely stared at you, a dark curl hanging into his face, and you exhaled.

“I’ll leave some clothes in the bathroom,” you quietly told him as you stepped by.

He didn’t follow, and you were grateful, quickly finding him something to sleep in. He was nearing the bathroom just as you left it, and you folded your arms over your chest as he eyed you.

“You know how to get the couch sorted. See you in the morning?”

His uncharacteristic silence unnerved you, and you fought the urge to squirm under his piercing gaze. He ran his eyes over you, slowly, and you swallowed. Harry’s gaze snapped to the action, eyes tracing your throat before lingering on your lips. Eventually, his eyes met yours again, lips pulling into a humorless crooked smile as he brushed past you, shoulder grazing yours.

“Of course.”

You blinked as the door shut behind you before forcing your feet to move. You shut your bedroom door behind you just as the sound of running water could be heard, and you hadn’t even realized that your fingers were trembling. You turned towards your door, hand hovering over the knob as you remembered what had transpired the last time that he was here. Your heart pounded beneath your chest, and confusion filled you as you mulled over what you may or may not want. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you back away, leaving the door unlocked, and you slipped into bed.

You didn’t know what time it was when you heard the soft click of your door snapping shut. It was hardly loud by any means, but it woke you nonetheless. Blinking a few times, you stared into the darkness before the overwhelming sense of being watched gripped you. Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you took in Harry’s form as he stood at the end of your bed.

“Mind if I crawl in?”

Weeks ago, you would have said yes without hesitation, but now you didn’t know if you minded or not. Even in the dark, you couldn’t escape that paralyzing gaze, and for some reason, you got the sense that Harry wouldn’t leave even if you did mind. At least not right away...not without making you squirm a bit first.

You pulled the covers back, a silent agreement, but you were stunned when Harry merely gripped them and pulled them completely off of the bed and out of your hands. Your eyes widened as he pressed a knee into the mattress, crawling over you, wasting no time before his lips met yours in a heated kiss. You had no time to process what was happening, Harry immediately finding comfort in between your parted legs.

If you thought the kiss before was real, then it was nothing compared to the way he kissed you now. The one before was almost immature in nature, timid in comparison, and it wasn’t hard to pinpoint why. Harry kissed you like a man starved, finally getting what he’d been craving, what he’d gone so long without.

You could hardly move as he had you pinned beneath him, fingers dancing up your legs, taking your t-shirt with them as they went. You finally felt like you could breathe when he dragged his lips down to your jaw, pressing kisses there before shifting his attention to your neck instead. It was insane. With how many guys you’d slept with, none of them came close to making you feel how Harry did. And he was barely laying a finger on you.

You felt him pull at your underwear, a gasp escaping you when he dragged them down your legs. Was this really happening? Was this something you wanted to happen? If you wanted, there was still time to salvage this friendship, to stop things before they truly went too far. Despite your own conflicted feelings on the matter, you opened your mouth to do just that, but Harry’s lips swallowed your words, long fingers finding their way inside of you.

You gasped into his mouth, only just now feeling his rings press into your skin, shudders wracking your frame as he played with you. In and out. That was all you could comprehend, how he moved them within you, curling them with every thrust and every flick of his wrist. Harry groaned as he tasted the inside of your mouth, pulling away to sit up on his knees. You were a squirming mess beneath him, and he pressed his other hand onto your stomach to hold you down when your back lifted from the bed.

Your head was thrown back, mouth parted and eyes focused on your ceiling. Every attempt to swallow down a moan was unsuccessful, and it wasn’t long before his own name started to tumble from your lips. You wrapped one hand around his wrist, nails pressing into his skin as he pushed his fingers into you, the sound of your arousal filling the room. Your other hand wrapped around his arm, holding on as your climax creeped up on you, crescendoing until you were shaking beneath him, feet pressing into the bed while Harry watched you come undone.

You still shook as he withdrew from you, and you watched as he wrapped his lips around his fingers, a low moan escaping at the taste of you. His lashes fluttered closed, like he was savoring it, and when he opened his eyes again, they were the most serious you’d ever seen them. The seconds that followed were a blur.

Your shirt was easily ripped off of you, and Harry’s own clothes soon followed, landing on the floor just as he settled over you again. He took your face into his hands, drinking you in with a look that scared you. It wasn’t just triumph, but it was satisfaction and yearning and possessiveness all rolled into one. It was so similar to how he always looked at you, but it was also so different. You thought that you had seen through him, could read him so well, but this was a rude awakening.

Harry had hid much more than you could have ever imagined.

He kissed you again, pressing his lips against yours so fiercely, you were sure they’d bruise. The cool metal of his rings pressed into your jaw, and he breathed into your lips, his lower half shifting, lifting, just before he flipped you over. A gasp escaped you when the room spun, and you blinked as you adjusted to this new position on your stomach. Harry’s fingers fisted into your hair, lips grazing your neck, and that was all the warning you got.

A choked moan escaped you when he thrust into you, your warm walls welcoming him like he belonged there. Perhaps he did, and perhaps Harry had known that all along. He moaned into your neck, the sound deep and shaky, the vibrations traveling through your heated frame. He held himself there for the longest time, just delighting in the feel of you wrapped around him. You did the same, eyes falling closed at your fullness, at how Harry seemed to stretch you so good.

One hand was still in your hair, the other pressing into your waist as he pulled back until only the tip of him remained before he snapped his hips against you. Your eyes flew open, your gasp bleeding into breathy moans as Harry set an unrelenting pace. Every curve of his hips had your toes curling, and you wondered to yourself why you hadn’t done this sooner. What had you been so afraid of? As Harry pressed kisses to your neck, fingers tightening in your hair, you remembered what you had been so afraid of.

Yes, Harry had always looked at you like a lover, but never like a lover that he was trying to court, that he hoped would be his. He looked at you like he already knew what you tasted like, felt like. Harry looked at you like a lover that was already his. No matter how many men you’d slept with nor how many drunken makeout sessions you’d participated in, Harry always looked at you like you belonged to him.. He touched you like you were his, wrapped you up in his arms, slid in behind you during the early hours of the morning before the sun even rose like you were his.

You feared what would happen when you finally were.

Your hand clutched the pillow, other fingers scraping the sheets as he pushed himself in and out of you. You could hardly speak, let alone keep your eyes open, and you squeezed them shut, fingers tightening on the pillow with every snap of his hips. You bit your lip, embarrassed by the sounds he was drawing out of you, but despite your efforts, soft whimpers found their way into the air.

“You feel so good, pet,” he breathed. “Doing so well…”

You clenched around him at his praise, and his deep chuckle reached your ears.

“You like that, do you?”

Certain that you were drawing blood by now, you released your lip, a shaky sigh escaping you. The sound of skin slapping against skin overshadowed everything else, and you pressed your forehead against the sheets. Harry had you caged beneath him, his other hand leaving your waist and pressing into the mattress beside your head. Your scalp burned from his tight grip, and your core burned even hotter from his thrusts. When you peeled your eyes open again, you were surprised to find your vision blurry, and it was only after you blinked did you take note of the tears kissing your lashes.

Crying during sex was a first for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Harry was fucking you so good, and you wondered how you’d ever go to anyone else. A laugh threatened to bubble in your chest, but all that escaped was another moan. As if Harry would ever let you… The way he touched you, kissed you, fucked you...it made you think that he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

You could feel your stomach tightening, and you reached back to twist your fingers into his dark curls. He groaned at the action, picking up his pace, and his name slipped from your lips again and again and again. Each time a bit higher than the last, and the coil within you snapped, your core clenching and fluttering around his cock. He stilled against you, dewy chest pressed to your back as he spilled into you, flooding your insides with a low moan.

You weren’t even able to catch your breath before he was maneuvering your head to kiss you. He swallowed what little breath you had left, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back, never breaking the kiss. Your eyes were barely open when he pulled away, and you moved to chase his lips with your own, missing the feel of them already, but his hands on your face prevented you from doing so.

You stared at each other for what felt like a long time, your lashes fluttering as you gazed into his eyes. Harry’s thumbs brushed circles into your skin, and his eyes glinted with something unknown as his lips pulled into a smirk. With a satisfied chuckle, he leaned down to kiss you again.

tags: @lokislastlove @honeychicana

#Harry Styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut

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weezlbot · 2 years

Text

Tag yourself: Valar

Might do one on the Maiar at some point. love those guys

tulkas. bench pressing your wife. the smell of leather. competitive sports. you haven’t skipped leg day, ever, and you look down on those who do. helping strangers at the gym. calling others “king.” kissing the homies goodnight. eating lots of meat, lean and fat alike. embracing the chad stereotype. energy drinks.

nessa. exercising with your partner. flexibility. music. dance of all kinds. gymnastics. muscular bodies, masculine and feminine. deer. horses. dogs. hooved mammals. energy drinks. loud laughter. earth tones. strong and effeminate. braids. you can’t eat anything with hooves--no beef, no venison, no mutton. lean meats and nuts for protein.

orome. glowing green eyes. french horns. trumpets. desiring virgins. big dogs. long walks. keen sense of smell. horses. quiet footsteps. attraction to smaller, softer bodies. coffee. strong, yet tempered emotions. being the wiser member of your romantic partnership. you’re good with ranged weapons--archery or guns. advocacy for weapons safety. you’re simultaneously very good with animals and absolutely willing to hunt your own food if need be.

vana. violets. roses. bees. honey. amber. gardening. big dogs. long walks. loving stronger people. loving older people. pastries. chocolate milk. no caffeine for you--you keep good sleep hygiene. bright colors. pastels. light colors. sunshine. flowery dresses. stuffed animals. youthful energy. innocence. naivety, but not in a bad way--you’ve got a lot to learn and you can’t wait to learn it. balancing your work and your play.

nienna. shades of gray. the way voices sound underwater. flowy clothing. hiding your face. studying psychology. studying grief counseling. being a crybaby, and being able to accept that. drinking tea for energy. mist and fog. shade. shadows. nighttime thunderstorms. monochrome. crying as a cope. sleeping as a cope. having a few very good friends.

manwe. birdwatching. bird feeders. cool winds. dried berries. charcuterie boards. compassion and sympathy, but not as much empathy. minimalist architecture. mountain peaks. windswept cliffs. being willing to drive for days and hike for hours for the sake of a good view. homes with visible rafters. thunderstorms. drinking tea for energy.

varda. glitter. sequins. white gems. stargazing. mountains. open plains. wearing mostly black and dark, cool colors. moonlight. starlight. cool white light. travelling with your partner. being willing to drive for days and hike for hours for the sake of a good view. drinking tea for energy.

aule. gold. brass. bronze. steel. iron. wire. upper body strength. muscle like bands of iron. well kept hair--head, facial and body alike. muscular bodies, but only masculine. liking body hair. respect for craftsmanship. being good with your hands. poor taste in friends. good taste in lovers. coffee. liking the heat. fireplaces. you like to make stuff, and you’re good at it.

yavanna. shopping at Whole Foods. keeping a home garden, or at bare minimum, a few potted plants. growing your own food. raspberries. strawberries. mulberries. pies and tarts and other fruity pastries. woods and trees. grass and fruit. it doesn’t matter if it’s manicured lawn or wild field or forest, if it’s growing, you like it. being very good at cooking. coca-cola or Pepsi or other soda as a wake-up method. you and your partner have ideological differences but the love’s still there.

lorien. sunflowers. buttercups. roses. fine china. porcelain. smooth glass. gardening. open fields. wildflowers. benches. lawn furniture. not liking caffeine, as you keep a good sleep schedule and don’t need it. studying psychology. counseling. you have a steady head.

este. sleeping as a cope. soft blankets. sleeping pills. smooth glass. smooth stone. shades of gray. warm fireplaces. quartz. sleepy tea. not liking caffeine--it makes you jittery. studying sleep medicine. yoga. meditation. mindfulness. swearing by the above three for nearly every problem you have.

mandos. wearing dark clothes. dark coffee. goths, emos, and other depressed, black-wearing subgroups. shade. cool air. basements. dark stone. ornate fences. shiny gray glass that holds no light. smell of dust and stone. old books. not liking the sun--it hurts your eyes and is too hot for you. ouija boards.

vaire. needlework. knitting. sewing. gray gems. goths, emos, and other depressed, black-wearing subgroups. coffee. shiny gray lightless glass. monochrome. colorless. smell of stone. cool air. shade. delicate white silk. studying history. the smell of old books. tapestries. being a little asocial, but you’ve got a few good friends, so does it really matter?

ulmo. shells. tubas. foghorns. deep azures. navy blues. glints of pale light. coconuts. cold showers as a wake-up method. thunderstorms. not minding the cold or the heat. doing volunteer work. giving good advice. being very good at swimming. travelling the coasts. collecting interesting shells.

melkor. iron that never rusts. burning hot sun. frigid cold. living at extremes. icicles. hot desert sand. harsh light. inky dark. sharp teeth. loving shiny things. mushrooms. the scent of copper. sharp teeth. broken mirrors. powerful stimulants as a wake-up method--caffeine pills, Bang, cocaine, amphetamines. you’ve made some mistakes. half the world wants to fight you in person, the other half would rather not think about you. bodymodding.

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 07

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A philosophical slant, (heavy) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom being absolute hubby material, Werewolf!Jaebeom being awkward and (a bit of a) pervert, domestic fluff, talk of medication, apparently werewolves don’t like to wear clothes (what is my canon...), talk of life and death, mention of blood, mild swearing

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Well, here it is, earlier and much longer than originally planned. It’s also a lot more tragic and philosophical than I intended it to be, but then again, what else can you expect from a tragedian fascinated by the human condition even as it is translated into the realm of the magical?

I think I just thought of the modern literary movement I might belong to: magic realism.

It’s a crying shame the Decadent Movement isn’t active anymore, though, because that one truly feels like a good fit for me both as an author and an individual. Ah well, c’est la vie.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There is nothing better for a wolf than being with its mate.

Well, there is one thing.

Having them completely at your mercy as you’re inside them.

I still don’t understand what the plastic wrapping is good for, but Jinyoung was very insistent on using it while we drove to the airport. And Y/N seemed glad I had whatever it is, her scent even betraying a hint of relief. However, one day, I hope she’ll tell me not to use it.

No, that’s not right. There’s a word for the… whatever it is.

A condom.

That’s the word.

I hope she’ll tell me not to use a condom. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in season or not, although the chances she’ll pup are higher if I am. I want pups with her, a little pack of our own. I want it to be our toddler running around the park, chasing its sibling. Then again, will I remain human long enough to see them grow up?

Will I even remember their birth on the day they’re born?

Will I still be here?

Or remain without a family, a proud bloodline?

I slowly open my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight bathing the room in a warm golden hue, swallow hard and force myself to calm down. There is no use in contemplating this now, not this early in the day nor in our time together. What counts is that I’m here now with Y/N in my arms and we’re in her apartment somewhere.

A faint whiff of brine seeps in through the air cleaner filter above the window overlooking the city. A gull flies by and lands on the roof of the building opposite ours.

Sea. Rusted metal. Right, the old harbour.

A high-pitched noise, a disquiet hum followed by a sigh, makes my ears perk up. I look down at the lady sleeping on my chest, curled up and fingers balled into small fists similar to a bunny’s paws. More importantly, however, she’s perfectly alright and was only unconsciously trying to get more comfortable.

A breathless chuckle rises in my throat at the display. Y/N’s adorable even when she’s fast asleep, her lips parted yet not enough to allow drooling.

I, on the other hand, am another story. I don’t do it often, but I must have been so tired last night I triggered the habit. The finger I swipe over the corners of my mouth comes away wet both times.

Oh no, I didn’t drool on her, did I? Would she mind, though, if I explained it’s a sign I’m comfortable with her?

It isn’t hard to guess the answer to the question. She would beat me over the head, likely with a shoe, and say I’m not allowed to bite her at all anymore. Not even in the future.

In a hurry to discover whether I made the fatal mistake, I check her messy hair but keeping my movements controlled to not wake her up. Fortunately, there are no locks sticking together nor a trail running down over the side of her face.

With a deep sigh, I slump further down into the bed again and kiss her crown. However, I don’t go back to sleep despite the comfort of the sheets. Instead, I lift the lady’s head and gently put her down on the pillow as I get up, carefully calculating every movement like I do when hunting to make sure she won’t wake up or notice my absence in her unconscious state.

The faint smell of burned iron comes from somewhere when I rearrange the sheets to bundle Y/N up. My mouth dries up, throat blocked by something I can’t swallow as a familiar stench disturbs the morning happiness. Former intentions abandoned, I claw through the sheets to try and discover where the rank odour comes from.

Did I hurt her? Is she bleeding? Why is she bleeding? Where is it? Where’s the blood?

As suspected, the frantic search wakes the pretty lady. Propped up on an elbow, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed, she turns to me. “Jae, what-’’ she yawns, “What’re you doing?”

Barely has she asked the question or I find what I’ve been looking for.

On her side of the bed, between her thighs, is a puddle of dried blood.

Where did it come from? Did I… Did I do this?

I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close to check her condition, turning her this way and that as each thought grows more troubled. “Are you okay?” There’s nothing to see on the bare skin of her upper body. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe the wound is somewhere lower, on her hip or leg. I didn’t bite her last night. Right? I didn’t hurt her. At least, I don’t think I did. No. Surely the wolf- I wouldn’t harm her. I had enough control to prevent that from happening. Yes, that’s the case.

But then, with a fading mind, how much can I trust myself?

“Jaebeom, I’m fine. What are you- ah.” Y/N notices the spot of dark crimson when I pull the sheets completely off the bed and toss them aside. She lets out an incomprehensibly careless chuckle, evidently oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“What are you giggling about? Y/N, you’re bleeding!” I bark, lost.

A small paw cups my cheek, her thumb caressing the skin in an attempt to calm me down. “You took my virginity. It’s natural to bleed a little when that happens.”

“Are you still in pain?” Even though it’s natural, surely it’s not without repercussions. Otherwise, the stain wouldn’t be there.

“No, I’m not, silly. I’m okay.” She kisses the tip of my nose when I let out a whine, unhappy with the response. Withal, a curious tone in her voice overtakes my own displeasure. “Are you?”

Why do you say it like that?

She sounds weird, hinting at something I’m supposed to find as obvious as she. Yet, I have no clue about what it can be. So, I tilt my head and stare blankly at her, waiting for an explanation. “I’m fine.”

My choice of words makes her visibly flinch despite the effort to hide it. The sleepiness which glazed her eyes evaporated, leaving them devoid of the amusement at my failure as a human. The recognizable sour note of anxiety creeps back into her scent, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “I’m alright. No pain. Happy to be here. Happy to wake up next to you.”

I rub her arms in a poor attempt to make her calm down, have her scent return to its spring-like fruitiness. She is supposed to smell like fresh fruit still hanging from the trees, yet to ripen. Not like fallen fruit beginning to decay in the summer sun.

“Okay,” is all she says in response before she pulls away, the absence of the warmth of her palm sending a cold shiver throughout my body.

The world always seems a little colder without her.

“Want breakfast?” A low grumble pierces the silence following the question, giving me enough of a response. And a reason to get my head, no, that’s not the idiom. To get my thoughts ordered. Organized. To get my thoughts in order? To think about… stuff. Last night. This. Everything. “Never mind. I’m making you breakfast. You have to eat.”

I stand up and head for the bathroom to first get rid of the weird plastic wrapping she put on me last night. Having thrown it in the bin there after a bit of an awkward struggle removing it, I move to the kitchen. Nevertheless, I don’t start preparing food right away. Instead, I pick up the grey hoodie I gave her from the bag between the sofa and chair facing the kitchen. I remember how she held it up to her nose, breathed in and basked in the scent.

My scent.

A fragment of last night’s memory.

I remember we had sex and that she told me I’m her first, but afterwards things are blurry.

Smell. I said something about how nicely she smells. Not really an original compliment since I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t help but focus on it.

And then…

Then…

Then instinct took over because I let it, thinking I’d remain in control even though I let go a little. After all, I’ve learned enough to know how to deal with the wolf inside thanks to the rehabilitation procedure Jinyoung put me through and supervised. Since then, there’s been a healthy balance between human and beast in my mind.

Or, rather, there was one.

I think.

Another boundary to watch out for. I have to keep myself in check. No more experimenting.

Because to do so is to forget.

And I want to remember.

I stop absent-mindedly thumbing the piece of clothing, drape it over the armrest of the sofa and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the fridge quickly brings my plan to a halt, empty except for a pack of soy milk and a tray of eggs. The groceries Jinyoung and I got were only enough for dinner last night and there are no leftovers.

To be fair, she did just come back from a trip abroad. But still, is there really nothing to work with?

I sigh in defeat and grab the plant-based milk to pour it over the apple and cinnamon granola I find in the cupboard above the sink. At least it’s food and drink in one meal.

From the drawer next to the oven, I grab two spoons which I put into the bowls, grab the hoodie from the couch and return to the bedroom.

Y/N sits with her back turned to me, but flips around a little too fast for my liking once she hears my paws approaching. “Jaebeom?”

The terrible mixture of barely suppressed horror and genuine concern in her gaze has translated into her voice, which is cold and calculating. The sour note of anxiety hasn’t faded from her scent, creating a stone to sink to the bottom of my stomach because there’s only one thing that can be a distressing factor this early in the day.

Me.

Withal, the reason why she’s scared puzzles me since I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been me since I woke up.

Human.

Although, that’s me now.

Last night, I don’t know who or what I was though it isn’t hard to guess.

The pretty lady traces the deep indentation in the headboard of the bed with her fingers bent to resemble a claw. “Did you do this?”

Did- Did I? No. I- I don’t know. I was less strict with myself last night and don’t remember much, but surely I wasn’t gone enough to do this.

I hope.

I think.

I’m not sure.

But the reality provides the necessary evidence to repute any kind of denial I can offer.

I set the bowls down on the nightstand and crawl back on the bed to sit next to her. Gently, I nudge her hand aside to mimic her action, my own fingers perfectly fitting into the large gash. “I don’t know.”

A surge of violence shoots throughout my body, triggering the nagging feeling of a forgotten memory strong enough to knock the air out the lungs and split my skull with flashes of a memory. Nevertheless, the fragments pass by too fast to make sense of them and the mere attempt to do so worsens the headache. I flinch and scramble backwards with a paw- a hand pressed to my head as if I can thus suppress the pain. Yet, I remain unable to look at anything but the damage.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice hardly louder than a scared whisper.

“I felt your skin move beneath my fingers last night,” Y/N starts, catching my attention with the timid response suggestive of requiring more explanation.

Exactly what I don’t have since I can’t even explain it myself.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“I think I did, at least,” she adds doubtfully on a shivery breath. The sourness sweetens to doubt instead of anxiety. Nonetheless, it’s still worrying she’s ill… uncomfortable.

“Did I-“ I swallow hard, forcing out the words describing my worst nightmare. “Did I transform?”

“Transform?’’ She briefly turns her gaze from me to the indentation, lips parted in an attempt to articulate a thought that’s dismissed with a headshake the second thereafter. Her attention returns to me, her expression slackened. ‘’What are you- What… No, you didn’t, but you looked far away. Retreated further into your own world, more so than you normally are.”

“That’s good,” I mumble, nodding as I, too, briefly return my attention to the claw mark. “Was human. Good.”

Still, need to talk to the weird-smelling intruder. Doctor. Friend. Name, his name. Jinyoung. Jesus, man, get yourself together. Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re a twenty-eight old werewolf that- no, who runs a bookshop called Paper Souls. Jinyoung is your friend, doctor and supervisor appointed to you by... by... some organization.

“Jaebeom,” the pretty lady puts her hand on my shoulder, features softened instead of frozen and marred by fear, “have you taken your medication yet?”

The natural fruity undertone seems forced to be stronger.

You should be scared. I might have- I made that claw mark. Why treat me like a human? I’m a wolf.

“Me- Med-“ The strange word barely registers until a spark of humanity recalls its definition. “Medication. Pills. No, I- I haven’t.”

“Let me grab a glass of water and get them.”

She ruffles my hair, jumps off the bed and rushes out of the room. I listen to her bare feet lightly treading the floor as she moves on the other side of the wall, hurried steps going from the hallway, where she rummages in my coat for the rattling bottle of pills, to the kitchen. There, she opens a cupboard to grab a glass. The loud clinking of glass alongside the sour undertone in her scent indicates she almost accidentally caused several to fall out and break on the tiles. Fortunately, judging by the deep sigh of relief, Y/N could prevent it from happening.

She turns on the tab, fills the glass with water, turns the tab off and walks back into the room.

“There you go,” she says, handing me the small brown bottle and water.

The mattress dips a bit when she sits down next to me with one of the bowls filled with cereal in her hands. After stirring the spoon around like she is trying to evade something, Y/N finally takes a first careful bite. Nevertheless, she starts eating properly after I kiss her temple, which is an apparently effective form of encouragement. I have to remember that.

Quietly seated in the golden sunlight, we have our first breakfast together. I don’t mind her watching me as I’m taking my medication, measuring out the amount Jinyoung told me to take. Or, rather, as much as the label notes I should. Immediately my gag reflex is triggered when I put them in my mouth, the taste of bitter metal extremer than before so it’s like licking one of the rusted over buoys drifting in the harbour.

He’s increased the nightshade and silver. Damn, I think even the worst coffee tastes better than this.

“That bad?”

“Yep.” I open and close my mouth, nauseous due to the sickening taste lingering on my tongue. To prevent the bile rising in my throat from escaping, I gulp down the water. Unfortunately, it only washes down part of the bitterness.

She holds up a spoon with milk-soaked granola to feed to me, but I turn it down and shake my head. I might actually throw up if I eat anything right now.

Disappointment flashes across her face, though it’s gone in an instant as she puts her bowl down and stands up. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“But... food,” I meekly offer and point at the half-empty bowl on the nightstand. She should put herself before me.

Because I’ll be fine.

“We’re missing something important. Coffee,” the bunny-like lady playfully responds before she bounces off again to the kitchen.

The pleasant and slightly sweet scent of instant cappuccino warms the apartment, replacing the sharp scent of frozen water alluding to hail later on in the day. It’s a little early in the year, but soon the first snows will fall.

Hopefully, she’ll move before then so we can spend Christmas in her cottage. Although, it doesn’t even have to be the holidays. I’d light a fire, drape a blanket over our shoulders and keep Y/N close to warm her with mine as we read and look at the snowfall.

Like a snowflake falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling before our eyes, so we pass through life. At this rate, I think the next snowfall might be the last I’ll see.

Consciously.

Meaningfully.

Like a human.

The snowflake will faintly fall on the man I am, descend on the husk I’m becoming, while she will continue living.

Without me.

The living and the dead.

I smile wistfully until the same shot of pain treks through me as when I tried to fill in the gaps of the fragmented memory. Folded in on myself, cold sweat on my skin and short of breath, I press my palms against my snout to push the agony away.

The pained groaning must have alarmed the pretty lady because she rushes to my side and pushes one of the mugs in her little paws… hands in mine. “Here, take a sip. The caffeine will help.”

As told, I nip at the hot beverage. Indeed, the cappuccino lessens the headache and cold shivers that ran down my spine and threatened to spread. Though I dislike instant coffee, it actually tastes good when she prepares it. I sigh in relief, blow on the coffee to cool it down, and slowly drink it while Y/N caresses my jaw and ear just the way I like it. At the same time, she comforts me with her soothing voice, murmuring words of solace and assurance as she sits down next to me again.

I could listen to you all day. Maybe I should ask you to read to me sometime. Although, not maybe. I’ll ask it later. Note to self, write a note on your phone to ask her to read to you. Also, make note of kissing her temple.

My reverie is broken up by a comment which rubs me the wrong way. “I have to go to the office later today-’’

“Already? You just got home.”

“They’re counting on me, Jae. Besides, I’m not that jet-lagged.”

“It’s not healthy. You should stay home. Rest,” I bark. Her eyes widen, taken aback by my bluntness.

She opens and closes her mouth, planning to say something yet deciding against it. Instead, she tugs my ear. “I’ll be fine. And you have your shop to look after, so let’s both work hard today.”

“Still,” I take another sip, “I don’t think you should go.”

“As long as I have caffeine, I should be able to manage. How about this? I’ll come to your shop as soon as I’m done with work and cook for us. We’ll have a cosy night in like we had last night.”

“Last night was ‘cosy’ indeed,” I murmur, hoping she catches on to what I’m alluding to.

“It was. I really liked it.” Her lashes flutter with the memories of last night, cheeks tinged pink. Unfortunately, the heartstopping girlish giggle is short-lived and becomes serious too soon. “But while I did, I think we shouldn’t do it again so soon.”

“Agreed,” I respond, mind occupied by the ripples of transformation and the splashes of pain wanting to remember something significant only communicated in incomprehensible flashes.

Distorted.

Like the memories of the forest.

I need to call Jinyoung. He needs to know.

“What shall we eat tonight?”

The change in subject is welcome, but also a confusing bridge to cross. How can humans go from severe to casual without a care? The aspect of communication has me furrow my brows as I try to work out the mech… work… nuts and bolts behind it. Nevertheless, I answer the question. “I thought you had a plan already.”

The corners of her mouth curl up into a cat-like grin. “I have no idea, so that’s why I’m asking you. You’re a better chef than I am.”

“I’m not that good,” I murmur, my ears lowered like a shy pup. “But I’d like something we can make together.”

“Pancakes?”

“Yes!’’ I bark, leaning in and grabbing the sheets to contain the excitement at cooking together. ‘’Yes, I’d like that!”

A flicker of doubt passes over her face, hesitant in the way she tends to be when it concerns food. However, a second later, she taps me on the nose with a content hum. “Pancakes it is.”

While Y/N showers, I clean the dishes and pull the sheets off of the bed so she can bring them to the laundry. Although, maybe I could do it myself. I’d have to text Jinyoung for instructions since he always does mine, but even then it shouldn’t be too difficult. Humans do laundry all the time. It’s part of their routine and if they can do it, so can I.

I hope.

As I’m making the bed and contemplating the process to get at least the blood stain out of the fabric, my mate walks back into the room. Her wet hair is bundled up in a towel that’s smaller than the one wrapped around her body. The addition of the scents of cherry blossoms and matcha to the blend of summer fruits drives me dizzy as she moves to the wardrobe.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help looking as the towel falls to the floor to reveal her naked body. An appreciative growl unconsciously rises from my throat, a surge of heat culminating between my legs.

Just one more time. I’ll keep myself in check. Behave. I’ll behave.

“Jaebeom,” cheeks flushed, Y/N glances over her shoulder, “don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I shuffle to her side to help her put on her bra by closing the clasps. When they click in place, I place a kiss between her shoulder blades, feeling her shiver against my lips. “I know what we agreed on.”

I wrap my arms around her waist and let my head rest on her shoulder. Eyes closed, I try to keep a clear mind as she scratches me behind the ear.

“It’s not necessarily... that.” Her voice is light, wanting to move past the concerns of last night with humour. “It’s rather the thought I wouldn’t get to leave for the office at all if we go back to bed.”

“You’re right.” I decide to play along, if only to give us both some peace of mind. So, I bury my nose in the side of her neck, nuzzling her and earning myself a bird-like giggle that spreads a nice fuzzy feeling inside. “I wouldn’t let you go. We’d read the day away with coffee.”

“Tea, in your case. Doctor’s orders. I don’t want you bouncing around the place. You’re my calm, well, sort of calm bookish wolf. Not a supercharged husky.”

It’s a lame joke, but nevertheless makes me laugh.

“What will you wear today?” I ask, glancing at the clothes on the hangers.

Here and there, there’s a colourful item in the collection. Withal, the majority of the items are mono… one-toned... black and white items to be switched up with a dark-shaded checkered blouse.

My attention drifts to the long white dress with lemons. The fabric is on the thin side, which makes it suitable for summer or a warm spring.

I’d love to see you in that dress, if only just once.

She pouts her lips. “I was thinking about grey high-waisted jeans with a black button-up shirt and ankle boots.”

“Wear my hoodie,” I whine, upset my… my girlfriend. That sounds nice. My girlfriend. It makes me upset that my girlfriend doesn’t plan on wearing one of the things I gave her. “You like the grey one, right?”

“I do, but-’’

“Then wear it.”

She sighs, shakes her head and turns around to look up at me. “There’s something like a dress code at the office.”

“Don’t care.” I nudge her nose with mine, bark lowered to a woof to persuade her to go with my choice. “You’ll look better. More pretty.”

“If you put a pair of boxers on, I’ll wear the hoodie. Deal?”

“But they’re uncomfortable. I only wore them because Jinyoung told me to.”

“Then I won’t wear the hoodie.” Little devilish will-o’-the-wisps light up her eyes as the corners of her mouth curl up into a taunting grin. “Shame. Now my colleagues won’t get to see I have a boyfriend.”

The tables have flipped since I’m apparently not the only one who’s good at using their charms.

Nevertheless, reluctant to start a fight over this, I let out a compromising chuff. “Okay, fine.”

Humans and their clothes. I like yours, but you’d look even better in mine. Still, I’m only doing this because I want every male at your office and in the city to know you’re mine.

No matter what size they are, clothing is a thing I absolutely haven’t missed. Notwithstanding, to please my mate, I wriggle myself back into the tight short trousers and the loose pants to wear over them. Y/N gives me a warning look when she sees me fumbling with my shirt, hopefully missing out on the obvious clue I secretly hope she’ll let me off easy.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Yes, Jae, also the shirt,” she chastises me like a mother disciplines a rebellious pup. “And the shoes. You don’t want other people to call the cops after seeing a naked man in the streets.” Unaware of the fact I can hear her perfectly even as she mutters under her breath, she adds. ‘’Or me to pick you up at the police station because of it.’’

Amused by the funny image the fantastical scenario creates in my mind, I relent. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re both dressed, Y/N makes way for the bathroom to do her makeup. Ignoring my protests it’s unnecessary since there’s nothing to hide or improve to make me love her more, she closes the door behind her and locks it.

There goes the plan of dragging her out of there by the collar to have her scratch my jaw and ear again instead. A much better way to pass the time, if you ask me.

In the meanwhile, I return to the bedroom to take a picture of the damage with my phone and send it to Jinyoung.

Jaebeom: We need to talk.

Immediately, I get a response.

Jinyoung: Yes, we absolutely do. Everything OK?

Jaebeom: Yes, Y/N is fine. Alive. A little shaken, but so am I. Well, we’re more than a little shaken. Fuck, Jinyoung, I don’t know what happened.

Jinyoung: I’ll drop by later today. I have to give a lecture in a bit and have to see a new patient afterwards. He’s going through the reintegration program right now and needs a little extra help.

Jaebeom: Help with what? What is he?

Jinyoung: A wolf. Not a standard case.

Jaebeom: Anything I can help with?

Jinyoung: I think you need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll be at the shop around two.

Footsteps disturb the silence, going from the bathroom to the hallway.

That was quick. Are females always this fast with applying their face?

It’s a funny phrase, ‘applying my face’. Also, it’s the argument the pretty lady used as the final word on the matter. But she already has a face so there’s no need to apply a second like some Greek god.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ears perked, I glance around the corner into the living room and in Y/N’s direction.

“Work?” she answers sheepishly, looking back at me with her head slightly tilted to the side. In her hands is the black trench coat she was about to put on.

Fortunately, she’s kept her makeup natural with a golden brown eyeshadow, a bit of a black line to accentuate her eyes and something to enhance her lashes. It’s a natural look which some of the female customers could learn from with their fake lips or chest that makes them reek of silicone and plastic. Their makeup, often overemphasizing their fake features, doesn’t add to their supposed charm. In fact, it makes me turn my snout away even faster if their attitude already hasn’t.

I’d never offer them coffee or want them around more than once.

But not her.

Not Y/N.

I can’t remember if she wore the same makeup when we met, but I vaguely recall a sense of calm and need for protection alongside a strange recognition. A connection that would make all the puzzle pieces of my life fit together.

The missing last piece.

“Not so fast.” I swiftly move to her side to kiss her forehead. No way I’m letting her go without giving her at least one more.

“There,” I pet her head, griggling and sweeping my tail triumphantly, “now you’re free to go.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without telling you, you know?” She stands on the tip of her toes to peck me on the lips, slightly swaying side to side to keep her balance.

So I lean forward to make it easier for her and chuckle against her lips. “Have a good day at work, Y/N.”

“You too, Jae.”

And with that, she puts on her coat, grabs her bag and opens the front door. She lingers in the doorway, waving half-heartedly as a final word of goodbye.

I wave back, faking a smile to see her off without worry.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

However, the deadline is another story.

The shop is as tranquil as it is on any other day. The quietness of unread words hangs between the shelves, the only noise to disrupt the silence being the rustle of a page being turned. Seated by the window as per usual, listening to the hail in the dim light, I read the time away, but whereas it’s normally a form of amusement and pleasure, it now functions in part to forget this morning’s discovery.

I didn’t mean to pry, but I inspected Y/N’s bookshelves before I left her apartment. There was the usual assortment of classics, but also a lot of Asian fiction, a genre I haven’t delved into too much yet. So, of course with the intention of returning it, I took Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami with me.

She must have read it recently because her fruity scent still lingers on the paper. The summer blend distracts me to the point that the movement of the hands of the clock pass unnoticed in the background.

Regardless of the appointed time, it’s half past two instead of two o’clock that Jinyoung comes in. In his one hand he holds a carrier with two paper cups, the sleeves on them decorated with the silhouette of a black wolf and the name of the café printed in vintage letters beneath the design, the letters spelling out Wolf’s. Judging by the scent, it’s tea the doctor has brought with him. Apple cinnamon for me, since that’s the only one I like, and rooibos for himself.

In his other hand, he holds his bag. One of the claps has either not been fastened before he left or came undone along the way. Whatever the reason, it’s clear he came here in a hurry.

“Sorry I’m late. Christian and I had a lot more to discuss than we thought.” Jinyoung stumbles inside, puts the tea and his bag on the counter, and turns around to lock the door and flip the sign so we can talk in private.

A hint of leather mixed with coffee and wood is mixed in with his own.

Male.

Threat.

Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, I make a mental note to myself to keep this scent away from Y/N. To keep this Christian away from her.

“Jaebeom,” the other male sighs. His tone holds a silent warning of being close to breaking some kind of boundary.

“What?” The answer rolls off the tongue as a growl rather than an actual question. Not that it matters since he must have had a lot worse to endure from me. Besides, it’s not him I’m pissed at so he’s safe.

Although, the wild undertone in his already peculiar personal blend alludes to the opposite.

Has he always smelled like this or is this new? He is human, but then why does my instinct tell me to watch out for him, that there’s more than to him? Strange.

“He’s no competition. I think he might have imprinted with my colleague, although neither he nor she might be aware of it.” He rolls his eyes. “The gods know whether Gráinne will do anything with it. I wonder if... no, I don’t think either of them told her anything.”

A grim wistfulness stains his voice, which ignites a curiosity about his colleague’s circumstances. Notwithstanding, that story will have to wait until another day and his willingness to tell me.

Still, I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app, and jot down a short reminder to ask about it at a later date.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung steps away from the door, hands me the cup with apple cinnamon tea, and gestures at the worn couch by the window overlooking the west side of the neighbourhood, “we’re here to talk about you. About the picture you sent.”

We move away from the counter to the sofa. A burst of hail spatters against the glass as we sit down.

I’m glad to have something to hold to conceal the shivers running through my body at the image of the claw mark mixed with the memory of what Y/N told me she felt. Or, rather, thought she felt although I’m certain she actually did feel the first ripples of transformation.

For a moment, we sit in silence as I mentally prepare myself for the conversation. Nipping on the tea with my shoulders curled over my chest, I try to reconstruct last night as best I can.

As much as my memory lets me.

To break the... something. There’s an idiom, no, a phrase? A saying.

I don’t know.

Not anymore.

To make it easier, likely noticing the struggle to say anything, Jinyoung speaks up. “There’s more than the photo. You’re leaving things out, things I need to know to help. What aren’t you telling me, Jaebeom?”

“Y/N-” I begin, my breath unsteady as I restart the sentence, “Y/N said she felt my skin move and if I try to remember last night, I can only recall fragments that give me a headache when I try to string them together. Which I can’t.”

He pales, frozen in place as the weird briny scent sours. “That shouldn’t-’’

“Shouldn’t happen,” I finish the remark.

A horrifying idea arises that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end and has me nervously tapping my thumbs together as I try not to squeeze the cup in my paws. Nonetheless, voice a low woof bordering on a melancholic whine, I tell the doctor what’s on my mind. “I think the pills stopped working. Completely. I- I don’t think-’’

The world stops, shrinks, and strings my chest as tight as a string as I shrink within myself. Each thought evaporates as fast as the flashes in the wolf’s memory, incoherent if meant to be sensible at all.

The snow hasn’t even come.

I can’t leave her alone.

I don’t want to leave this life.

I don’t want to go just when being human again starts to get good.

I don’t want to be the old me again.

“I think so too,” Jinyoung agrees grimly. “If I increase the silver and nightshade or the doses it will kill you.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp with focus as he poses the question I’ve been wondering about myself. “Does she know what you are?”

I shake my head. I might be her weirdo wolf guy, but she’d never believe me if I told her what I really am. Besides, werewolves are the stuff of fiction these days.

We’re no longer seen as a real threat nor have the power and status we used to have in the days of yore. We are devoid of an identity acknowledged by humans.

But, if I don’t possess an identity, am I really here?

Alive?

Or dead like the wolf inside?

Paradise is calling, the song of the forest playing like a red thread through my broken memory.

Beckoning me home.

The woods are calling.

And I must not go.

Jinyoung’s new question pulls me out of my reverie, just in time before the train of thought would crash and burn. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” I take a sip of the sweet tea, to have a second of bliss and enjoy a new human pleasure.

Another happiness I discovered a little too late.

“Will you at least tell her about your meds?” Even though she’s seen me take them, Y/N doesn’t know what they’re for. But, then again, did she look at the label?

Regardless of whether she did or not, she’s perhaps not truly ignorant to the reason I have to take them. After all, she thinks they combat my amnesia, which is partially true. It’s a half-truth.

But the real reason is a secret I intend to keep.

“No,” I repeat, determined in my answer regardless of the world spinning out of control. “I won’t tell her.”

“She deserves that much, doesn’t she? She’s your girlfriend, Jay.’’ Although his features have softened, the doctor’s voice rises to a fierce bark as he reinforces his point. ‘’Your mate.”

“I can’t tell her,’’ I retort, my bark closer to a growl than a civilized answer. Tears brim on the edge of my lashes, obscuring my vision in spite of my attempts to blink them away. The vision of Y/N by herself in the snow, on her knees in the middle of the orchard, blocks my throat and makes breathing harder than it already was.

The vision changes to the image of a spring day close to summer, warm enough for her to wear the dress with the lemons. She’s seated in the same position between the trees which are now white and pink with blossom. However, whereas her belly was flat before, it’s now swollen, pregnant with pups.

My pups?

No, I have to stay here.

I have to survive the winter.

I have to be here if I ever change my mind and want to start a pack with her.

I must be here.

But the question is whether I actually can.

At this rate, I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

But I know enough to explain why I’m reluctant to tell my pretty lady anything. ‘’I can’t tell her, because the news will hurt her and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Plus, what am I supposed to say? I’m a wolf that turned into a man and is slowly dying, going back to his old form in which it... he. Am human. In which he’ll be stuck until it- He! Am human! Until he dies?

“Y/N has to know about this, Jaebeom.’’ A hand on my shoulder makes me look up from the floor to the man next to me. ‘’How about I talk to her, tell her what you told me and discuss what our options are as well as a plan for the future?”

“You’re right.” I let out a mirthless griggle. “Fuck, I hate it when you are. But… But how will you… explain, uhm, explain… this- me! How will you explain me? What I am? For all she cares, werewolves are my- myth- fic-’’ I throw my head back, frustrated I can’t find the right word or properly speak.

Jinyoung gives me an encouraging squeeze, kindheartedly chuckling at my failure. “I know what you mean. Nobody comes into our world willingly or at least without a good reason. I think your... situation is enough of the latter for her to get involved too. She doesn’t have to join the branch, I’ll leave that up to her. But, if Y/N decides to believe me, or us for that matter, she’ll at least have a community to rely on when you, you know, you’re...”

“When I’m gone.’’ The hesitance to state the facts makes me grimace and my tone sharper than intended. ‘’We both know where this is heading so just say it.”

“Fine,’’ the doctor puts his hands up as if he’s at the risk of being shot ‘’when you’re gone.”

“What’ll happen to the shop?” I gesture around the paper paradise, changing the topic slightly. Books have been another treasure of humanity I will forever be grateful for, especially since I hopefully have created a legacy with them that’s worth keeping.

The doctor glances around, a somber expression on his face. “Either the university will keep it and maintain it as a potential workplace in the reintegration program or sell it off. I don’t know, real estate doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.”

“Ah, I see.” I lower my head, gaze averted to the half-empty cup in my paws.

Funny how I once thought of making this a family business or to have at least my pup’s name on the spine of one of these books. If I ever had them, would they like to be a writer? Would Y/N tell them their absent father, I... I love... loved to read?

I force myself to forget the thought, swallow despite having a dry mouth, and shake my head. “Thank you. For wanting to tell her. She’ll come over tonight, so-’’

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll text her so we can meet at a later date. She just returned from a business trip and had quite the evening with you. You two deserve a bit of rest.”

“But what if...”

It’s unlikely, but what if it happens again? What if I spin out of control tonight?

“Keep your temper in check and try to suppress your instinct,” Jinyoung answers matter-of-factly.

So, no sex.

Although the unspoken implication doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t help but feel disappointed even though Y/N and I agreed on not doing it again so soon. Notwithstanding, it would be a lie to say I didn’t want to do it again this morning. But then there was the pool of blood and the amnesia that ruined our morning bliss.

All the same, flashes of what I do remember from last night replay in my mind.

They say once you’ve had a wolf, you never go back. Maybe because I won’t let you.

She looked beautiful, tears glistening in her eyes, equally as beautiful as her meek whimpers. She’s so small and fragile, easy to overpower.

To conquer.

“Your mind’s…. gutter again, isn’t it?” A groan sounds from somewhere on the side, distant like a faint echo

I was inside her.

In spite of the weird plastic, she felt nice.

Warm.

Wet.

I replay the image of her whimpering on the sheets as I looked down at her over and over. My hand on her cheek and Y/N keeping it in place. I should have used that second to dive down and worship her soft breasts more.

I could have bitten her there. Just a small bite on the side.

The snapping of a pair of fingers before my eyes interrupts the pleasant reverie. A bit offended, I snap around to growl at whoever took the pleasure of a cherished memory away.

Only to face Jinyoung, who sighs and looks down at the bulge in my pants before pursing his lips with an exasperated knowing expression as he looks up.

Scrambling to regain my composure and hardly remembering what he said, I answer as best I can. “No!”

“Then why are you drooling?”

#JB #Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #JB smut #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom fanfiction #Jaebeom smut #GOT7 Werewolf AU #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf!JB

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Note

Heyo bouncy, coming to collect my fic for the Geralt with w/ nip piercings edit! Can i get some monster-ish looking geralt (or go full monster cryptid if ya want) with a jaskier who loves him v much fangs claws and all? Spice level up to u, just pls dont make it super sad as I cry like a lil bitch. (Also feel free to hit me more tat/piercing edits and ill do my best to deliver!)

(Ayyy thank you so much for that edit by the way. Excellent addition to the Tiddy Discourse)

it will be fluffy as fuck, my friend

featuring a real British cryptid that I have appropriated for my purposes (this is NOT related to my BATB crossover series)

---

Jaskier whistled a jaunty tune and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he picked his way over fallen branches and twining roots. The wind was starting to pick up and he felt the biting cold in his face and hands; hopefully he was growing close enough to summon his lover’s aid.

“Geralt?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Geralt, where are you?”

There was a dark flash of shadow from the corner of Jaskier’s weak human vision and then there he was in all his shaggy, canine-heavy glory: the Beast of Bohdren Moor.

Geralt stood just over six-and-a-half feet tall, even when he stooped his shoulders forward to seem more menacing. His hair was a wild, snow-white mess; though it was more tamable now that it had been when Jaskier first stumbled upon the strange creature’s lair. He made sure to braid it back and out of the monster’s way whenever he returned to humanity.

“Jaskier,” the Beast snarled, stepping closer and reaching out his claw-tipped hands. The young bard fell against his lover’s chest and sighed. The creature buried his nose against Jaskier’s hair and breathed in deeply. “Smell good. Like fruit.”

“I am a little on the fruity side,” the bard giggled. He shivered then, and burrowed closer to the furnace that was Geralt. “It’s cold out here, love.”

“Cave, then.”

“Alright.”

The giddy bard allowed himself to be swept off his feet and carried the short distance between the clearing and Geralt’s cave, babbling all the while about his latest lessons and new compositions and look Geralt, I’ve brought you some wine and a new blanket for winter.

“You don’t have to do these things,” the Beast asserted, placing Jaskier back on his feet at the mouth of his cave/home.

“I know, but I enjoy it. There are very few people left in my life that I want to spoil, Geralt, please allow me to take out that frustration on you. There’s nobody more deserving of gifts and affection than you, my darling creature of the night.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pulled the wine from his travel basket and allowed Geralt to pop the cork with his impressively sharp teeth. “Well done, lover mine.”

“Hmm.”

One of Geralt’s sharp claws made its way down the outside of Jaskier’s clothed thigh and the younger man shivered. “Later, darling. You’ll get what you want later; let’s have something to eat and drink first. And you can tell me all about the people you’ve frightened and the monsters you’ve dispatched from the area.”

“Hmm,” the Beast hummed yet again and reached out to pull the bard closer. Jaskier allowed himself to be folded and maneuvered safely onto Geralt’s wide lap. “Stay.”

“Well,” the young bard smiled, cuddling close to his darling wild-man. “I can’t argue with that, now, can I?”

#prompt fill for a good buddy #thanks for the tiddy edits #geraskier cute #geraskier soft #human jaskier #bard jaskier #nonhuman geralt #monster geralt #creature geralt #borrowing british monsters cause they literally borrowed everyone else's shit all the time #sorry i'm taking a colonialist literature class #oof #geraskier softness

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misc-headcanons · 4 years

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Could I get nsfw with Taste, touch, and scent for Hancock, Hina, and Bonney?

(Ooh, I don't think I've gotten a Hina request before! 😚 NS.FW below!)

Hancock

Taste: Hancock's fond of tea with floral notes in it (with her favorite being oolong tea with a bit of rose syrup). Because the diet of the Amazons consists of a lot of fruit, she always tastes sweet when she kisses you. She also enjoys wearing lip balms in fruity flavors, and when she figures out which ones you like the most, she only wears those flavors. And thanks to that high-fruit diet (including cranberries and pineapple), she naturally tastes as sweet as a vagina can really get.

Touch: When it comes to her s/o, her touch is always so soft and gentle. She would burst into tears if she wound up leaving marks on you during sex, even if you said you didn't mind--and even if you told her you liked getting marked up. She's not that fond of rough sex, just because of her past and her overall preference. Sex with her includes a lot of foreplay, caresses, soft kisses over every inch of you, and a LOT of tender body worship. Hancock doesn't fuck, she makes love.

Scent: She smells like jasmine and wisteria, since those are her favorite oils to add to her baths. It's floral but not overly so, and very sensual. She also loves to give you massages with these oils, so you always smell a bit like her whenever you wake up in the morning after a massage and intense night of lovemaking.

Hina

Taste: Her mouth tastes like light cigarette smoke, cinnamon (her preferred toothpaste flavor) and creamy lipstick.

Touch: Hina's soft with a little edge to her when it comes to affection and touching her s/o. She'll run her fingers through your hair before tugging it a little bit or kiss a trail from your neck down to your hips, with her kisses turning more and more into bites as she moves lower and lower. The only time she's 100 percent soft is after sex, where she'll caress your shoulder or spoon you with a sleepy, satisfied smile on her lips.

Scent: She tries to use unscented shampoo or something subtly-scented like lavender. She usually smells like lavender and clean laundry in the mornings, and only a little bit like cigarette smoke before she puts on her perfume. It's something like Chanel's "Coco" or Yves St. Laurent's "Opium", that smells like the essence of every badass no-nonsense businesswoman from the 1980s distilled into a bottle.

Bonney

Taste: Bonney usually tastes like whatever she's recently eaten, so kissing her is always a little adventure. Some of her food combinations are so fucking weird, and you'll be able to taste a but of everything on her tongue and lips: deep-dish pizza with spicy Italian sausage, grape soda, swiss-cheese-and-mushroom hamburgers, green tea ice cream… She's easily the sloppiest kisser you'll ever meet, but that does NOT mean she's bad at it (far from it, actually); she's so brazen and passionate when she kisses you, swirling her tongue and leaving you breathless as she feels up your shirt. Honestly, she can make a fully-clothed make-up session feel like you two just had a round of sex with how deep she goes.

Touch: Your ass and chest are gonna feel like a pincushion from just how much you're gonna get pinched, caressed, and squeezed. Bonney may not have the Hana Hana no Mi, but she's easily the handsiest lover in the world. She's got a hand over your shoulder or around your waist while she's out in public, and she's got NO qualms when it comes to PDA. If you're into it, she'll even climb on top of you and ride you on the table of whatever restaurant or bar she's busted into, grabbing bites of her food whenever her hands aren't all over you.

Scent: She likes shampoo and other products that smell like food, and she also loves using bath-bombs shaped like food. The only downside is that sometimes she'll mistake...say, a cupcake-shaped/scented bath bomb for a real cupcake and then eat it. Because of this, she always smells really sweet. There's one particular bubble bath product she has that smells exactly like cinnamon rolls, and (until she gets the One Piece) it's her most-prized treasure.

#one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #boa hancock #hancock #hina #black cage hina #bonney #jewelry bonney #ns.fw #900+ followers #mine

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catthecoder · 4 years

Text

tag game - get to know me

tagged by the awesome @orangenfrottee - thank you, i haven’t done one of these in ages and these questions sound like so much fun! 💕

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? it’s grey on the back with black handle

2. name a food you never eat - hmm, i used to be such a picky eater but i recently slowly started eating a lot of food i used to despise... if you asked me a few months ago, i could write up a rather long list, but right now? the only thing that comes to mind are picked cucumbers 😬

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold, 100%. somehow, my body stays cold even when it is like 30 degrees, which is hella weird.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? eating lunch! i made bagels with ricotta, ham, cheese, egg and avocado and i had a couple of baby cucumbers along with it (mind you, not pickled ones) and it was super delicious.

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? i think twix is my favourite? or perhaps this slovak bar called ‘horalky’, which is basically wafers with peanut filling and sides dipped in chocolate... god, now i want one so desperately.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? i used to watch hockey a lot and i’ve been to a couple of games.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? huh, i think it was my order when i went for coffee a couple of hours ago? (i got a latte and a piece of apple crumble cake, in case anybody’s wondering)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? i could eat ben&jerry every day, so it’s probably their ‘half baked’ or ‘phish food’. also, i’d die for a good mango sorbet.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? plain old water

10. do you like your wallet? i like how small and practical it is..... i’m trying to recall the last time i actually took it out of my backpack and i’m coming very short.

11. what is the last thing you ate? the bagels from question 4!

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? i bought a pair of new masks last thursday and they arrived on monday - does that count?

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? haha, does the bake off count as a sporting event? if not, i think it would be some skiing competitions (slalom) last winter - my parents follow them rather closely and it kind of rubs off on me when i’m home with them.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? salty mixed with sweet!

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my boyfriend.

16. ever been camping? does setting up a tent in friend’s backyard and sleeping there count? if so, then yes.

17. do you take vitamins? not really... i sometimes take c during autumn for immunity, but i haven’t bought any this year so far... oh, i am taking probiotics right now, though i’m not sure whether that counts as vitamins.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no.

19. do you have a tan? no, if i try to tan, i just turn pink (or red). though i’m pretty sure my skin is marginally lighter underneath where i wear my watch.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? if going out, pizza; if i’m cooking, chinese.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? if there’s ice in it, then yes; otherwise, i tend to skip the straw.

22. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white.

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? gonna be honest and say yes. not by crazy amounts or anything like that, but if i know the road and i can see quite far around and ahead, i will go 10ish% above the limit easily. not gonna lie, it’s especially easy on highways (though i nearly got fined last time i drove, so who knows how i’ll feel about it the next i’ll sit behind the wheel)

24. what terrifies you? haha, like i’m going to share that.

25. look to your left, what do you see? a shelf with alcohol bottles, glasses that don’t fit into our kitchen cabinet, an assortment of cameras and other photography equipment and a scanner. oh, and a window.

26. what chore do you hate most? taking out our organic waste bin - it starts smelling very bad very quickly plus the bin for it downstairs hadn’t been taken out in a very long time and it’s always covered by fruit flies and smells veeeery bad and i’m feeling yucky just thinking about it.

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? i think - hah, that person is australian, how cool.

28. what’s your favorite soda? i love san pellegrino. limonata is my go to, but i recently had lemon & mint and my god, that one is amazing.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? i go in, even if i drove there - i don’t like eating in my car.

30. what’s your favorite number? i’ve always had a special connection to number three, so let’s go with that.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? depends on what you mean by talked to - actually spoke to, with my voice? the bartender at my favourite coffee shop. had a meaningful conversation? probably with a customer service employee who’s helping me resolve an issue. just chatted to, without much of a point? my boyfriend.

32. favorite meat? hmm, probably ham?

33. last song you listened to? i’m currently listening to ‘cigarette daydreams’ by ‘cage the elephant’, though that’s going to change in a minute and half.

34. last book you read? ‘renegades’ by marissa meyer! it was so. good! i started the second book, ‘archnemesis’ yesterday and i’m even more in love. 100% recommend if you’re into superhero stories with secret identities and enemies-to-friends(-to-lovers). such an amazing series.

35. favorite day of the week? what even are days?

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? only crazy people can.

37. how do you like your coffee? oat latte with a bit of honey.

38. favorite pair of shoes? i own way too many shoes to be able to pick a single favourite pair.

39. time you normally get up? between 8:30 and 9:00.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? none. there is one on the couch though.

42. describe your kitchen plates? we found this kitchen set in tesco after eating from paper plates for at least a week after moving in - there are four bowls, four small plates and four big plates (a year layer, we found two extra big bowls matching our set) - the bowls are grey from outside and white on the inside; the small plates are grey on the top and white on the bottom and the big plates are white on top and grey on bottom.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: very small - a third of it is a stove (with two heating pads? circles? whatever), another third is a sink and the last third is workspace with a small shelf for spices, cutlery etc, and a cutting board and knives stand. most of the workspace is taken up by a cutting board i used to cut avocado and cucumbers for lunch and there is a tiny pan (and i mean really tiny, like one egg sized) leftover on the stove. i’m probably going to do the dishes after i finish answering these.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? i’m not that picky, i’ll drink almost anything. i think i prefer fruity drinks though - i really like french martini or sex on the beach.

45. do you play cards? we used to play cards a lot with my parents and sister (and grandparents as well) - i love playing canasta, but you need four people for that, so i haven’t actually played in months... we also played a lot of joker and i taught my boyfriend to play this summer (not that he didn’t know how to play, he just wasn’t particularly good)... and we also play poker with a couple of our friends here from time to time

46. what color is your car? this is going to sound so bad, but i am actual not sure? we ended up finding quite a good deal on a car we wanted to get after uni, so we bought it - however, it is back in slovakia and both me and my boyfriend are stuck in uk right now. it’s either black or very dark blue, but for the love of my life, i can’t remember and the photos i found weren’t helpful at. all. (if it weren’t for covid, i’d be able to answer this question a lot better). oh, and the car i had before (my mom’s old car) is red.

47. can you change a tire? i like to think i’d be able to (after enough googling and youtube videos), but if there was somebody else with me, i’d gladly let them do it.

48. your favorite state or province? like in usa or what? i guess new york.

49. favorite job you’ve had? i don’t think i’ve particularly enjoyed any of the jobs i had so far - if i had to pick, i’d say working in an ice-cream shop, because if there is one thing that could make work during a very hot summer even slightly bearable, it’s the fact that every so often, you can nibble on a bit of an ice-cream.

i’m tagging @stonerbughead @strangenightsofdaydreams and @i-know-you-can - i know there is like 50 questions and that’s a lot, but they were actually a lot of fun?

#tag game #i haven't done one of these in so long #and i really enjoyed most of these questions!

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