#gonna curl up real small in my nice warm bed and read Call of Duty fic and then I'm going to sleep

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 17

"Stage Fright" by The Band

[likesomekindofcheese]

The BEN-nefits of Fake Dating

Hello! @littlespoiltthing​ it is I!!! Your Secret Santa revealed! Here is a one shot I wrote (with a title inspired by @littlespoiltthing​ ‘s own beautiful work) for @dtfrogertaylor​‘s Christmas Event. Enjoy everyone!!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader

Words: 2412

Warnings: Families, kissing, swearing, Christmas, grandparents, and parents being grandparents and parents. Sex, engagement, and kids are mentioned, nudity but nothing graphic. Plus a LOT was inspired by the Hallmark movie Holiday Engagement

Genre: Fluff and a bit of Angst!

“If I have to see you single again on another Christmas, I’ll jump off a bridge!” your grandmother whined over the phone. You sighed deeply, out of reach of the phone on the speaker in your hand.

“She’s joking, of course!” your mom interjected.

Yeah right, with another year and another ring less finger in the midst of an Instagram feed full of clean, French manicures with the largest diamonds sparkling on the left hand with two billion likes, you had had it. Especially since a lot of those clean, French manicured hands of yours with large sparkling diamonds on the left hand with two billion likes were in your family.

So now every head that was female and greying turned to you in anticipation. And every holiday, from their wrinkled, pink lips and their hot breath full of peppermint came the dreaded question with the monotone, dreaded answer.

Then came Ben.

Charming. Funny. Smart. Single. Ben.

He sat in your car on the passenger side and his eyes widened at your grandmother’s comment.

“Oh, I just want you to be happy, dear! And know you’re taken care of!”

Your grandmother forgot to recall the new world of college degrees, Netflix nights with friends, job choices, and vibrators to think a man could possibly be in the picture for women in the 21st century.

This was where Ben came in. Especially his job for the next week.

Ben clicked his tongue a little and bit his lips in a way that almost made you miss the turn.

He reached over the clicked the red button on the phone to end the call.

“Well, she’s a little mad.”

“She’s mad for babies, that’s what. I think she just wants babies to play with without changing diapers or, you know, responsibility” you said.

“Maybe I should’ve brought a dog, then” Ben quipped.

It was ideal. But too ideal. Ben and you were friends. Just. Friends. No matter what your stomach felt. No matter what fantasies you had at night. Just friends.

But it was nice to live that fantasy for a week. Merry frickin’ Christmas.

You pulled the car over to the park and walked into the big house. Already a lot of your family had entered in and were having drinks in red cups as a sports game blared on the tv as opposed to nice Christmas music tinkling away.

“Oh, honey, welcome!” your mother greeted, walking in with a big hug, the red arms of her red sweater outstretched.

“And is this your boyfriend?”

“Oh, yes, I’m Ben, Ben Jones.” He greeted. He had a polite smile and had engaged in his role. Today’s audition he had to read the role of boyfriend to shut up the Karens for a week. Only no real script except what was discussed, and pure improv. Good thing he was paid to leap off of trucks and shoot fake guns for Micheal Bay.

How hard could it be? After all hard was his name. His stage name.

Your grandmother gawked at you.

“Oh my gosh! What a cutie! I haven’t seen a butt that perky since your grandfather in ’72!” “Grandma!” you gasp, but giggling anyway.

You hug your mom very tightly, so much you can smell her. Ben merely gives her a platonic handshake.

But Ben handles being the dutiful boyfriend very well. People go over and drill questions into him. He hesitates a little and then replies quietly.

“So Ben, what job do you have.”

“I’m an actor, film, and television.”

Though one cousin of yours, who is at least six foot five and the size of a buffalo storms over, almost to Ben’s face. If it were not for the reindeer antlers hanging from his head, you probably would have been nervous.

“I’ll tell you Jonesey, my cousin, Y/N, is the sweetest, smartest, best girl ever.”

“I know! I wouldn’t be datin’ ‘er if she wasn’t!” Ben replies. His hands shoot out in front of him.

You can feel yourself biting your cheek insides in order not to smile.

Your cousin practically grabs him by the shirt collar and lifts him almost.

“If you break her heart or hurt her, I swear to God, man, I’ll cut your nuts off!”

“I-I won’t!” Ben insists being lowered to the ground.

But right as Ben turns around and sees your brother and you feel your stomach turn a little. Are your family members ganging up on poor Ben?

But he just nods his head and says “I think you seem like a nice guy, Ben, so ditto. But Y/N is a tough cookie, I trust you with her. And I trust her” he adds, he picks up his mug in the shape of Frosty the Snowman and lifts it as a toast in your direction.

Pretending to be dating was almost too easy. Natural, even.

It seems like forever, but the guests eventually filter their way out. Your family sighs deeply Your stepfather throws himself on the couch, almost melting into it.

“Well somebody has to pick up the dogs tomorrow…”

You can see Ben’s face light up.

“Dogs?” Ben interrupts, widening into the smile of a seagull offered a crumb of bread.

Your mom is a little taken aback.

“Uhm, yes…we have two German Shepherd puppies. We had to put them in a daycare center for the party. They’re cute, but a little rowdy,” she warned, shuffling her feet.

You have to hold Ben back from jumping into the car and picking them up now.

“I’ll go, why, I’ll even drive!”

“Well, thank you, Ben!”

“Anything for my best…”

You kick him softly into the back of his leg, threating harder later if he doesn’t keep it together.

“Anything for my best girl! That is! The best girlfriend ever!”

The night gets darker and everyone is exhausted from the greeting party.

“You guys are fine sharing a bed, is that right? Well, the only bed available is Y/N’s old bed…” your stepfather begins.

You are both muttering and Ben’s turning very pink.

“Yes, Dad! We are thinking about moving in, soon, so sharing a bed isn’t a problem.”

But you both head to the room, lock the door and sigh.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” You confess.

“I think we’re doing great!” Ben adds optimistically, looking around at the trinkets and clothes left on hangers and chairs in your room. “And we don’t have to sleep together, I brought an air mattress.”

Fighting the urge to wince from the comment, you begin chewing your bottom lip.

“I need to go to bed, when do you shower? There’s only two up here.” You suggest, fanning out your top from the sweat you gathered.

“Mornin” Ben added, noticing an old book on your shelf and curiously thumbing through it.

As you take some towels and walk off, you bump into your mother getting a laundry basket.

“Do you think they liked the cake I made?” she asked.

“Oh, they definitely did!” you assure.

“I just think I may not have put enough icing, you know the family always goes for the heavy sweet stuff”

“Oh, mom, your baking is always great! Fyi, Ben got a really big slice today if that’s a sign!” you tease.

She taps your shoulder lovingly.

“And how’s your relationship with Ben going?”

You pull your hands under the towel and squeeze.

“It’s…good mom, really good.”

“It’s just that today I noticed you didn’t hug or hold hands or kiss that much” she murmured, relaxing her arms so that the empty laundry basket seemed to dangle from her grasp.

“We wanted to be respectful. You wouldn’t want to see your daughter making out with a guy all evening, would you!”

Your mother’s eyes sparkled as if hesitant to give you an unexpected answer.

“Well, of course not!”

“Besides,”  you say, turning to the bathroom and opening the door “he’s the kind of person who’d rather be private about touchy stuff, you know?”

Your mother hums in understanding and turns off to her room.

A warm homey shower and a nice bedtime routine got you all settled. Cleanliness of your body and mouth seemed to free you from the weariness of the social demands and your mental worries of what could go wrong.

But there was one more thing that did go a little wrong. When you walked back into your room Ben was lifting the blanket to get into the air mattress.

In his birthday suit.

You let out a scream and turned away immediately, not sure whether to be thankful or mortified or both. Ben saw you and let out a small yelp as well, he grabbed an old pillow and put it right over his junk. His whole head turned pink.

“I’m so sorry. You were taking your time and I thought I’d be under by the time you…y’know!!!” He seemed to curl down and you fought the powerful urge not to let your eyes wander to his eight-pack.

“Just put on some underwear for the love of God!”

You manage to get him in underwear and your mother's fluffy pink robe full of flowers. Almost scoffing, you flop on your bed and fall asleep almost at once.

What you don’t see is Ben turning his head to look at you. He can’t go to sleep quite yet. Thoughts are racing thought his head far too fast for him to catch one and examine it.

Being in your room, seeing all your old trinkets, clothes, books, and even toys everywhere. Bits of your personality shine out to him. And now a younger, but your deeper, almost private self is now all around him.

He adores it and his heart is bursting silently. With widening eyes, he keeps still on the bed and observes each tiny detail as if it is a clue to reveal a bit more about you.

And there you are, your face turned right to face his, eyes closed and deep asleep. He admires how there’s a bit of moonlight from the window falling on you and he can see you.

There you are so close. If he got up now, he could touch your hand perhaps and even stir. He could place his head against your heart to feel how after everything today that it’s beating just, so, so slow. Your lips are curved into a smile. Is it a dream, perhaps? His hand almost reaches out, wanting to trace every bit of your face but he stops himself.

He nestles down on the pillow and your face is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and drifts off into uneasy rest.

Nights like these got quieter as the days got repetitive. There was a lot of smiling and conversing with each other in the day and in the evening, you both would be quiet. The air dripping with words that wanted to be said and yet could not be said for fear of something dying.

One evening the clock had struck one in the morning and neither one of you had gotten any sleep other than tossing and turning.

“Let’s just watch Christmas movies together!” Ben suggests childishly, and you nod. You two will sneak downstairs and watch The Grinch and Netflix together. One evening, Ben suggested The Snowman.

“It’s on Youtube, have you ever seen it?”

“No!”

“Let’s watch it!” Ben says, whipping out his phone and suggesting you scoot over.

It’s hard not to let your head fall on his shoulder and you force yourself to keep the slightest distance.

At the very end of the short little feature, the magical Snowman had melted, leaving the little boy alone in the snow as the credits rolled over a soft song with an orchestra and boy soprano.

Ben was bawling quietly.

“Oh my god…every bloody time…”

But as you reach over, you wipe off the tears and he looks right at you. You are both quiet.

“Go back to sleep, I need to have a smoke before I sleep.”

It had been a long smoke too.

On Christmas Eve, it was another small gathering. Mainly Grandma. She was eyeing you two as if she was watching the last five minutes of a Game of Thrones episode for any sudden, shocking twist or turn.

Like a kiss. Or a hug.

Ben could tell something was up and pulled up to her. “Well hello there, I’m Ben Jones, I don’t think I’ve talked with you much yet, but I’m dating your granddaughter.”

She nodded and gigged. Her eyes shone and brought energy not felt for about fifty years

“I know, we haven’t talked!” she replied, raising her shoulders a little in shyness.

“And I can’t leave a lovely lady all by herself!” Ben added with a wink.

You smiled. Ever the charmer where it counted.

You went over to the kitchen and heated up two mugs of hot milk and picked tow packets of hot chocolate.

But as you walked over to hand them to Ben right by the doorway there was a sudden burst of “OOOOOOOHHHHH!” from your brother.

There was mistletoe hanging over the two of you.

Mistletoe that wasn’t there yesterday.

You and Ben stared at each other, blinking. Then you looked at your grandmother, eyes wide and nodding.

You gave him a short peck. His lips were cold and reeked of onions from the pizza you ate, but it was soft and plump.

Ben looked back at you, dazed. You only half heard the cheering from everyone and the toasts.

You both looked at each other, the party went on, but it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.

“Y/N…” he starts….”I think I need some air…” he confesses.

“Me too…” you say, following after.

You both rush, the air is cool and soft, not freezing like the typical Christmas Eve and with a disappointingly green front yard in front of you and a semi-clear sky.

Before you can say anything, Ben looks up at you shyly.

“Can I kiss you properly? And date you proper? Not for fake…”

You take your hands on each side of his face, his green eyes grow to the size of your neighbors' bushes.

“Uhm…it that a yes? It was a pretty bad kiss back…”

“Shut up” you insist before locking your lips onto yours for a much bigger improvement.

[bangtanstanst]

Nightcap

As Head Boy and Head Girl, you and Jimin are very responsible people. Except on those rare occasions when it’s late, you’re tired and hungry, and the word ‘rules’ seems to just... disappear from Jimin’s dictionary.

≽ pairing: slytherin!jimin x slytherin!reader ≽ genre: post-e2l au, hogwarts au, fluff feat. a lot of kissing; stand-alone sequel/one shot ≽ warnings: mentions of wizard alcohol aka firewhiskey, Kids Being Naughty™ ≽ word count: 3.9k

a/n: hello friends!! I hope you’ve all been well this week♥ Remember that one slytherin!jimin fic I uploaded a couple months ago? I loved writing it so much that I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I started writing this one shot and I thought you guys might like to read it, so here it is! :) If you haven’t read that fic, worry not, you can definitely read this one on its own!! In any case, I hope you enjoy it♥♥♥

›› tag list: @dimplemono @sugasheart @jinitude​ @sebastianshoe @azulamakesmeblank​ ‹‹

original story based on a request by @bts-lys: truce part one • part two

masterlist

You huff as you shuffle down the steps of the Slytherin common room, tugging at your tie to finally loosen it and give yourself some room to breathe. Your eyes are drooping and your shoulders are hanging low, your feet aching from walking around the castle for hours. Even worse, you can’t go to bed yet – you haven’t gotten the chance to finish all your homework.

Patrol duty fucking sucks.

The common room is cold and empty, as it always is at this hour. The chairs and tables that litter the room are deserted, with only the occasional forgotten feather or roll of parchment left behind. The lake’s usual greenish glow that shines through the windows isn’t there, and the only light is coming from the torches lining the walls, flames flickering and casting erratic shadows on the stone floor.

Your eye falls on the couches by the fireplace and you notice a mop of pale hair leaning on the backrest of the dark leather couch. Raising an eyebrow, you freeze in your tracks just before you get off the final step, tilting your head – his lips are parted, eyes fluttered closed. There’s a book resting on his stomach and his hands are loosely holding onto it, his chest slowly rising and falling as he softly breathes in and out.

A grin starts to tug at your lips and you perk up – all your tiredness seems to slip right out of you. Perfect.

With a wide smirk, you jump off the last step, a thud echoing through the common room as your feet hit the stone floor – Jimin shoots up with a loud snore, wildly shaking his head and blinking. “Up! I’m up! Is it breakfast time?”

You chuckle as you walk up to the couch, your footsteps bouncing off the walls. “Not even close.”

He looks around for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes in his dark surroundings, the ashes smouldering in the fireplace – and then slumps back into the couch when he realises you’re right. “Jesus Christ, did you have to do that?” he exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

You chuckle once more, plopping down next to him. “Most definitely,” you say, staring up at the common room’s high ceiling. You can hear the lake water swishing right outside the windows and you sink further into the comfortable cushions of the leather couch – no wonder Jimin fell asleep here. “I told you not to wait up,” you mutter lowly, turning your head to face him. “You need to rest up.”

“I wasn’t waiting up for you,” Jimin defends with an exaggerated, offended tone, sitting up to snatch the book off his torso. “I’ve got some very important homework for tomorrow that I need to do, so this is all one big coincidence, sweetheart.”

You let out a snort, raising an eyebrow at the book he’s holding up – Potions. “Ah, of course,” you reply, a smile curling at your lips. “The homework we totally didn’t finish together before I left.”

He chuckles and nods in reply, putting the book away so he can lean closer. “Exactly,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his nose nuzzling your cheekbone. “But now that you just so happen to be here, I have to admit it’s nice to see you.”

You let out a sigh and your smile softens, body rolling over so you can kiss him on the lips. You’re both slow and lazy, your fingers absently fumbling with the collar of his button-up. “You, too,” you mutter as you pull back. “But you should really have gone to bed.”

“I wait up for you all night and this is what I get?” he teases, his arm sneaking underneath your robes to pull you closer, his warm hand pressing to your lower back. “You really are ruthless.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I thought you weren’t waiting for me,” you shoot back, though he simply shrugs in response and you laugh softly. “In any case, I don’t think you should be calling me ruthless, sweetheart,” you add, leaning back. Jimin raises his eyebrows in curiosity, eyes flickering to your hand as you reach inside your robes – you pull out a clear glass bottle, holding it by its neck as the amber liquid sloshes around within.

Jimin’s eyes widen when he recognises the label and he draws in a soft gasp, taking the bottle from you. “You picked up firewhiskey on patrol duty?” he asks, looking at you from underneath his eyelashes, a small smile curling at his lips. “Bad Head Girl.”

You simply grin back at him, shrugging. “I mean, I thought I might as well snatch a little something, since we’re probably not celebrating any Quidditch wins any time soon.”

With a chuckle, he raises an eyebrow. “I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” he replies, looking down at the bottle and letting out a happy sigh. “I knew I wouldn’t regret waiting up for you.”

You narrow your eyes at him once more and you raise an eyebrow as he looks back up at you – he’s usually better at staying consistent with his lies.

This time, though, he just grins and shrugs. “What are you gonna do, magic me back to sleep?”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you sink back into the cushions – you decide to let it go, rather starting on the real reason why you brought the bottle along. “Actually…” you start slowly, making him look up from the bottle with his eyebrows raised. “I know I told you to get some sleep, but I…” You sigh heavily, wanting so badly to bury your face into his shoulder and fall asleep in his arms – you feel like you could do so any minute now, but you’re fighting to keep yourself awake. “I was hoping you’d maybe wanna stay up with me a little longer.”

His eyebrows furrow together subtly and he narrows his eyes at you. “Why do I feel like this is not the fun kind of staying up?”

You wince, scratching your head as you avert your eyes. “I might still have some Alchemy homework for tomorrow that I’ve been putting off on doing, and… Well…” you trail off, crossing your arms and clearing your throat – you can only bear to look at him from your periphery.

Realisation washes over Jimin’s face the moment he figures out where your sentence is headed, and a smug smirk breaks out – he leans back, his arm draped over the back of the couch. “Yes?” he encourages, tilting his head.

You let out a huff, though you feel a small smile of your own start to break out. “Do you really want me to spell it out for you?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replies with that ever-widening smirk of his.

You huff once more, he raises an eyebrow in response – the bet might be over at this point, but neither of you have quite given up on the whole ‘getting the other to admit you’re better’ part. And you often have fun in holding off on it – but you’re not feeling as feisty tonight. “Okay, I might be asking for your help,” you say with a sigh, glaring at him.

The smugness in Jimin’s smile melts away, and it turns bright and victorious instead. “See? That wasn’t that hard, now was it?” he chirps, and you chuckle, shaking your head as he puts the bottle of firewhiskey on the dark wooden coffee table. “Let’s see that homework, then.”

You smile at him, leaning forward rather than jumping up to grab your stuff, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise – you press a kiss to his cheek and he quickly deflates, letting out a soft sigh instead. “Thank you,” you mutter, moving to jump up just when his arm sneaks underneath your robes and wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him.

You are neither surprised nor annoyed about it and you simply put your arms around his torso, eyes fluttering closed when his soft lips press a kiss to your forehead. “Of course,” he mumbles against your skin, kissing it once more. “Just ask me earlier next time. You need your rest, too.”

Letting out a sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder, the fabric of his button-up brushing against your skin. “I know,” you say in a voice that almost sounds like a whine, and Jimin chuckles. “I just needed to get the firewhiskey first,” you add with a small smile.

He scoffs and clicks his tongue, his chin grazes your hair as he shakes his head. “As if you need to bribe me with anything to get my help.”

You lift your head to raise an eyebrow at him. “Really, now?” you return, at which he nods innocently. With narrowed eyes, you hum thoughtfully, tilting your head. “Then what was the whole ‘give me a kiss or I won’t help you find your ladle’ debacle?”

He puckers up his lips into a pout as he looks off into the distance, pretending to genuinely give it some thought – but only seconds later, he shrugs. “I just wanted a kiss.”

“We were in class, you horndog!” you protest, wiggling out of his embrace so you can jump up from the couch.

Jimin watches you as you step away from the couch, sitting back with a smirk. “Oh, like you didn’t ‘accidentally’ fall on me during Care of Magical Creatures last week.”

You’re gonna plead the fifth on that one. “Hm? What was that?” you simply inquire, skipping over to the girls’ dormitories, speaking before he can repeat himself, “Sorry, I can’t hear you. The lake’s really loud tonight.”

All you hear is his chuckle echoing off the stone walls as you slip into your dormitory. You have to do your very best not to laugh in response and wake up the other girls sleeping there, silently grabbing your bag off your bed and pulling off your heavy black robe, tossing it aside for you to deal with later.

When you return to the common room, Jimin has put his Potions book on the coffee table next to the firewhiskey and he’s rummaging through his bag, pulling out a roll of parchment – his Alchemy homework. He’s softly humming to himself – way too upbeat for someone who’s about to start on homework late into the night.

Plopping down on the couch, you glance at him, and he looks back with a wide smile and an all too familiar glint in his eye. You huff – you’re not gonna get much homework done, are you? “What are you planning, Park?”

He laughs, turning his gaze to the roll of parchment in his hands as he unrolls it. “Oh, nothing much, I was just thinking,” he replies casually, scanning the scribbles on the parchment to look for the start of his assignments.

You almost don’t want to ask. “Thinking about what?” you blurt out anyway, too tired – and too curious – to stop yourself.

He grins, eyes flickering over to you as he pretends to focus on the parchment in front of him. “That firewhiskey isn’t the way to go if we wanna do homework.”

You’re slow tonight, and so your eyebrows simply furrow and you tilt your head. “Huh?”

Looking up from his parchment, he smiles at you. “Cute,” he mutters, tossing the scroll aside as he leans back against the couch. “I mean that we might wanna get some tea or something instead.”

For a moment, your frown deepens, still not quite understanding what the fuck he’s talking about – and then it finally clicks, and your lips part as you draw in a gasp. “Are you kidding me?” you scoff, violently shaking your head. “We’re not going down to the kitchens. No way.”

You turn to your Alchemy book, pointedly opening it and aggressively turning the pages – but Jimin simply leans closer. His arm slips around your shoulders and his warm body presses to your cold side, his chin landing on your shoulder. You try to ignore it, flicking through the pages of your book instead. “Too tired?”

You briefly hesitate as you gather your words, though you soon huff out and shake your head once more. “No, I’m just not being an idiot,” you reply dryly, hoping to talk the idea out of his head just this once. “We’re not gonna risk getting caught in the hallways past curfew for some midnight snacks.”

“Says the girl that just brought firewhiskey into the common room.”

You don’t have anything to say to that and Jimin knows it. You can hear the soft laugh he lets out, his breath ghosting over your neck, and you shiver in response – you try to suppress it and distract him with a sigh instead, though, knowing him, Jimin probably notices it anyway.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t continue pressing you about it outright – doesn’t come in with the whole ‘come on, we can get away with it’ spiel you hear almost every day at this point. “Alright, I’m still gonna go down there, though,” he returns instead, pressing a warm kiss to your jaw before quickly jumping up. Without his arms around you, you shiver once more, though this time it’s just because you’re cold. “You can stay here or come with, up to you.”

You’re too tired to pretend to ignore him and so, you look up from the pages – their contents were starting to swim around on the paper anyway. “Jimin…” you call after him, trying to get him to stay. No amount of food is worth getting caught by Filch.

Jimin doesn’t reply and simply saunters onwards instead, calmly ascending the steps to the common room entrance. “Jimin!” you hiss, jumping up from the couch – your book tumbles to the ground with a loud thud and your heart skips a beat, a sharp breath escaping your lips.

He turns around, continues to walk backwards to the entrance. A bright smile is teased over his lips as he looks at you, raising his eyebrow – it’s like he’s challenging you. The bastard. “I think I might just grab some tea and cookies for myself, if you’re not joining,” he says with an exaggerated sigh – you narrow your eyes at him, not caring to pick up your book just yet. “My arms can only carry that much, you know.” 

You cross your arms. “Come on, I just came from there,” you protest weakly, at least trying to stand your ground. You can’t give in that easily.

Seeing right through your façade, Jimin simply smiles and tilts his head at you. He finally comes to a stop at the common room entrance, leaning his back against the door. His hands are in his pockets, his tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck, his collar unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is messy from his nap and his eyes are slightly swollen – you’d think he’d look like a tired mess. But all his sleepiness seems to have been replaced by the mischievous glint in his eye, the wide smile plastered on his face.

“Come on, it’s fun!” he insists, and you’re almost surprised at the fact that he doesn’t stomp his feet to underline his point. “Just a little break from homework and responsibilities, and then we’ll go right back to being all prim and proper.”

Your eyes narrow, you remain silent. Does he always have to do this?

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Your tired mind can’t decide whether he means it like that, or simply that he’ll get you all the food you want – either way, you feel like you’ve been resisting for too long.

“Fuck it,” you huff, snatching your book from the floor and tossing it onto the couch.

Jimin snickers at you as you trudge up the steps, your feet aching, begging– rather, practically ordering you to sit back down on that couch, young lady. “Who’s the horndog now, hm?”

You snort at him as you catch up, following him back into the dark castle hallways. There’s no moonlight here in the dungeons and so your path is only lit by the flickering torches – the sound of crackling flames echoes through the deserted corridor. “I just really want those cookies, babe,” you reply lowly, wincing when your voice still bounces off the stone walls.

Jimin hums in amusement as you lock your pinky finger with his. “Oh, sure,” he replies – he’s clearly holding back his laugh, just in case Filch or Mrs Norris might be lurking somewhere around the corner.

“But since you offered it up so nicely, I will take that kiss,” you add in a whisper, smiling when he breathes out a soft laugh.

You were assuming he knew you meant that you’ll take that kiss after you’ve returned to the common room, once you’re safe and sound – which is why you almost yelp out in surprise when he grabs your hand and pulls you behind a stone pillar, presses you back against the cold walls and, without hesitating, kisses you. He swallows the surprised gasp that leaves your lips, smirking slightly as his hands move up to cup your cheeks, keeping your head in place – it only takes you a second before you melt into him.

Warmth spreads through you and your eyes flutter closed. You forget you’re sneaking around the castle hallways for a second, that someone might just walk around the corner and catch you making out in the hallway in the middle of the night, and you just wrap your arms around him to pull him closer. He tastes of the sweet candy he must’ve stuffed himself with before you got back from patrol duty and you let out a soft sigh, eager to get more of this, more of him. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of that intoxicating feeling of his lips against yours, his arms tight around you, his soft hair brushing your forehead as he dips deeper.

Much too soon, he pulls back, a bright grin breaking out when you instinctively chase his lips. “You know, I get it now, that would’ve been way too much for Potions class,” he mutters, pressing a last kiss to your mouth before he steps back, grabbing your hand to pull you off the wall.

A little flustered, you almost forget to hold back your laugh, following him around a corner and towards the set of stairs at the end of the corridor. “You’re finally starting to make sense,” you manage after taking a second to compose yourself.

He throws you an amused look, letting your intertwined hands swing back and forth in between the two of you. “You know, at times like this, I start to think you never truly gave up on hating my guts,” he mutters through a dramatic sigh, staring off into the distance as you walk up a set of stairs – the doors to the Great Hall are looming up ahead and so, you should probably start to be more careful with your talking, but neither of you seem to have come to that realisation just yet.

You simply snort, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“See?” Jimin insists. The bright smile on his face clearly tells you he’s just teasing, but you still scoff and roll your eyes. “I knew it, you still hate me. I can’t believe my girlfriend hates me.”

“And I can’t believe my boyfriend is an idiot, but here we are,” you return, glancing aside at him – he stifles a laugh, then quickly composes himself and simply pouts at you.

“So you do hate me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, huffing. “You know I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you,” he returns – his pout is slowly but surely turning into a smirk and you can practically hear the plan forming in his head.

Humming, you narrow your eyes at him – you reach the end of the stairs and take a quick look around, making sure no one’s patrolling the area and deciding the coast is clear when you don’t see anyone, walking straight towards the staircase that’ll lead you to the kitchens. “Well, you better believe it,” you return with a shrug.

“Prove it, then,” he shoots back and you almost cackle at that. There it is.

You feel like you should throw a wrench into his plans – but in all honesty, you’re too tired to refuse to ‘prove it’ to him, especially after he so abruptly broke off his kiss and simply left you hanging.

Without another word, you stop right in front of the staircase to the kitchens and turn to him, pulling him into you and pressing your lips to his.

He stiffens for a second even though he must have seen your move coming from a mile away, and then quickly sinks into the kiss like you did just minutes before. Your hand runs through his messy hair, his fingers splay over your lower back and he almost lifts you off your feet as he draws you closer, holds you tighter. He grins against your lips and you can’t help but smile too – soon enough, his tongue grazes your bottom lip and your cheeks flush, though you quickly comply and–

“Meow!”

With a gasp, you break apart, eyes wide and lips parted. You don’t even have to look around to know where the sound came from, and you exchange slightly panicked looks.

But then Jimin grins and a small smile curls at your lips, as well. “I guess the firewhiskey should do,” he practically giggles. You fight the urge to snort as he grabs your hand – and then you just dash.

Your footsteps echo off the stone walls as you run back to the dungeons as fast as you can, glancing over your shoulder to notice Mrs Norris is following you – and quite easily, at that. “I told you so!” you whisper as your hand tightens around his, though you can’t help the giggle that spills from your lips, heart racing, adrenaline surging through your veins. “I fucking told you so!”

You turn around a corner, seeing the common room entrance up ahead. Almost there. “Okay, fine,” Jimin huffs, coming to a stop right in front of the door and muttering the password – you glance over your shoulder, seeing Mrs Norris patter down the hallway like she’s not here to ensure your inevitable doom. “You win this one,” he admits through heavy panting, slipping back inside the common room as Mrs Norris meows once more. Before she can follow you inside, the door falls shut behind you and you let out a sigh, leaning against it. “Back to prim and proper.”

You draw in a heavy breath, trying to get your heart to slow down, your lungs to stop burning. Normally, you’d be teasing him relentlessly about him admitting his defeat. But the ache in your feet seems to be gone, much your tiredness, and your shoulders have stopped slouching – it’s like Jimin has made it all go away, and you simply smile as you grab hold of his hand once more. The adrenaline refuses to wear off just yet and you know you’re not gonna get much homework done if you sit down and tried to focus now anyway – so you blink up at him, taking his other hand in yours. “We can take five more minutes, right?” you ask him with a lopsided grin, still breathing heavily, cheeks flushed from exertion.

His eyebrows shoot up as you pull him towards you, but he quickly understands what you’re getting at and simply grins back. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of that face. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

original series: part one • part two

a/n: thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! I had a lot of fun diving into this universe again, so I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much ;) Let me know what you thought, I’d love to hear from you! I hope you have a wonderful day/night wherever you are♥♥♥

masterlist

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part IV

Log #1 - Muu 3rd, 425

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M A SAILOR NOW. It’s just after nightfall of my first evening at sea, and it still doesn’t feel real.  I’m proud of myself to be able to say that I didn’t get seasick like Papa talked about feeling when he first sailed on a ship. I like the feeling of the waves rocking the boat, and I love the smell of the salty air and the sounds of the sails as they flutter in the ever-changing breeze. Darja said that today was mostly for me to “find my sea legs” and get settled.  

I got to see some really cool sea creatures already: a few dolphins followed alongside the ship a ways, jumping out of the water as they flanked us on either side.  It was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. We saw a whale too, but we weren’t very close to it.  Still, they’re so big that when it sprayed water from its blowhole, it looked like those giant geysers from geography books.

I have my own cot!  It smelled a little, but something weird but exciting happened...I don’t quite no how to explain it, but as I was standing there, thinking of home, thinking of the little things that I knew I was going to miss, it was like my hands were suddenly not my own, moving in strange, somatic swipes and turns, til suddenly, I watched the soiled marks on the cot fabric fade away.  I was really surprised because...to be honest, neither Mama nor Papa have magic, so I didn’t think I did either.  Maybe it’s all this fresh air!  I got excited and decided to try again as practice, and sure enough - I was able to make the cot smell like my sheets at home after Mama freshly washed them in jasmine water. I might have cried a little...I don’t know what made me more happy: the smell of home being right at my fingertips, or the fact that I could make it happen at all. I decided to try one more time, this time concentrating on making a warm bed.  Sure enough, I touched the fabric on the cot and noticed the temperature change, warm to the touch. I’m lying in my warm, clean, sweet-smelling cot right now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.  I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa all about this when I come home.  Now Papa and I can both share stories at sea.

Log #2 - Muu 4th, 425

Today was pretty rough.  I’m so tired, I can hardly grip the quill to write this. Darja told me that today I was to learn the ropes so that I could start earning my place on the ship and make some coin.  I worked with Bardi - he’s the head midshipman on the Golden Afternoon. I’m not gonna lie, he’s a bit of a hardass. At first I was doing pretty well keeping up - he taught me how to hoist sails, check the rigging, and a few other things that I don’t really remember what their names were (I’ll get it though).  I kind of tried to show off at the beginning and used up a lot of my energy in the first couple hours, not realizing I’d be working that hard all day…

My hands are all chewed up from the rough ropes: they’re blistered and bleeding, and I don’t know what to do because Bardi said I’m gonna be doing it all over again tomorrow, too. There’s another younger kid on the ship - his name is Mica, he’s a genasi from the mountains in Sokoku. He told me that the same thing happened to him on his first day at sea and that he found that wrapping his hands helped a lot.  I’m going to try that, I guess.  I tried using that little bit of magic I found out that I could do yesterday, but it didn’t seem to help.  I wish I could do healing magic like the people at the Sanctuary can… Maybe this little spell is all I can muster though.  I’m still hopeful for more though. 

Log #3 - Muu 5th, 425

I had another dream last night...about the kind man with wings. It feels bizarre saying this, and even reading this as I write, I know I sound crazy, but it had to be real. I had a hard time falling asleep because of how much pain my hands were giving me; but once I drifted off, he visited me.  I couldn’t make out his face since there was no light at all, but I knew it was him...I could make out faint outlines of grey in the darkness, and I could see his wings curled around his sides and his massive shield strapped to his back. He didn’t speak, but just him being there made me sense that he felt...bad for me? Worried, maybe? He gave off a feeling of sadness.  He took me by the hands, and I distinctly remember feeling the pain as it did so at first. But then, I saw our hands begin to glow faintly, and a soothing sensation took over my palms - it felt like the time I burnt my hand on the brick oven and Mama had to rub aloe on them. After that, I must have woken up, because I don’t remember anything else; the dream just sort of ended. But when I sat up in my cot, my hands were completely healed. COMPLETELY. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I’m so grateful.  

Whoever you are, if you’re here with me now or can read this, who are you? Why do you care about me of all people? Just...don’t ever leave though, okay? And thank you so so much…

Time to get up, eat, and go to work now - I’m not dreading it as much as I was last night.  I’m going to find some cloth to wrap my hands, just to take precautions. Hopefully today won’t be as bad.

Log #4 - Muu 7th, 425

Sorry that I missed a day: yesterday and the day before were pretty wild. On top of doing my regular duties, I was assigned my first night watch (not something I want to do on the regular). I was so tired from all the hard work that day, and then I had to stay up all night… Thankfully, there wasn’t anything to report. One of the other sailors relieved me just as the sun started to rise, and I was able to sleep away most of the day. 

When I woke up yesterday afternoon, we had just dropped anchor offshore from Felgra, the region to the east of Ghaan.  Papa says that his fleet is based out of that region, but Darja said we’re still a ways away from Port Cladach.  Instead, we were taking small rowboats to a coastal town called Fenwilde. It was nice to get a break from working with rigging - I finally got to do something I was good at: loading and unloading cargo.  I learned how to row a boat as we went ashore, and then we delivered some crates to a little shop called “Blink Bottles” and a few sacks of spices to a tavern called “the Boar’s Head.” 

Papa was right when he said that everywhere is a little different from home: there really wasn’t all that much sand as we got closer to the shore; and even then, the mainland was really boggy. And even though we’re still along the southern coast, it was surprising to me that it wasn’t hot - it was actually quite cool...just damp. There were trees everywhere, some of them growing right out of the shallow tributary channels, and everything was SO GREEN. I couldn’t believe how much moss there was in any direction that I looked. While in Fenwilde, we had a little bit of downtime while invoice papers were being reviewed and signed, so I took a quick look around town in an area they told me was called “High End” - they had all sorts of shops there, and one was a clothier. I didn’t realize how lucky I am to have Mama...she always made my clothes for me.  Clothes are expensive.  I was starting to feel chilly at night on the ship, and if other places were like this one, it was likely going to continue to be that way (or colder). I looked around until I found a cheap fleece blanket of emerald green. I bought it and returned to the crew.

When we finished the delivery, we rowed back out to the coastline, then continued out into the oceanic waters. When I got back, the sun was just starting to set - Darja told me to go rest up because I’d be taking the late watch again. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep doing this… But I guess it’s only for another week or so.  I’m going to go try to sleep now...hopefully I can get a few hours of rest before they wake me up to take the night shift…

Log #5 - Muu 8th, 425

Last night’s watch was a little scary...as I was up in the crow’s nest (with my new blanket, thank the gods), I saw something off in the distance...it was another ship. I’ve heard rumors of sea bandits, or “pirates,” that sometimes prey on merchant ships in the cover of darkness, and I was terrified that what I saw was just that. The ship looked altogether foreign to me: what I now know to be a red-sailed jong, common among genasi merchants may as well have been the ship of the sea’s most dreadful buccaneer. Fearful and panicked, I nervously played with a piece of copper wire in my pocket from a repair I made earlier and felt a strange tingle in the back of my mind as I whispered over and over again, “Someone’s coming, shitshitshit, something is sailing this way, what the hell do I do…” Before I knew what I had just done, I heard the confused voice of Darja echoing in my head: “Ka’l? Is that you? Who is coming?” I had once again done magic, and I’m still a little unclear what I did to make it happen. I’ve heard about material components sometimes being involved - maybe the wire? Regardless, I flung myself from the crow’s nest, scaling down the rigging as fast as I could, to meet Darja on deck.  He grumpily informed me of my mistake in identifying the ship as ill-willed, assuring me of its safety by pointing out the markings on its sails, before he returned to his quarters to sleep.  I’m sitting in my cot, writing this, unable to fall asleep: I’m still jittery with shock from both finding a new spell and realizing just how easy it can be for a pirate ship to slip into proximity with us if one wanted.

Log #6 - Muu 10th, 425

Today has been a rough day. Darja called me to his cabin after supper.  I figured it was about my two weeks almost being up; maybe he was going to offer me an extension, or something… It turns out he’s just a creep though - he tried to...I don’t know, I think he thought I was interested in him or something. I made it very clear though that I was not. He told me that since I was so disagreeable, I would be on night watches for the rest of my journey back to Khaadeehava but would still be expected to perform my daily duties as well.  

I’m so homesick. I really love it out here on the Turquoise Waves, but I wish it were a different ship with a better captain. I rushed to get all of my chores done right after my watch ended this morning, then came back here to my cot to write a little before trying to get an hour of sleep before I’m needed to mop down the quarterdeck later. My one little twinkle of happiness is that - in my loneliness for home - I found another little bit of magic that I can make: I’m sitting here with my journal in my lap, and sitting on the cot in front of me is Mama...well, not really, but some sort of illusion of her.  She’s sitting at the end of the cot just like she used to do at the bottom of my bed at home when she would come into my room to say goodnight...and she has that warm, soft smile that I miss so much. I wish she were here right now.  I wish I had someone I could hug.  For now, I’ll just hold tightly to my fleece and pretend, I guess...

=============================================================

Thank you, as always, for following me through this journey of fleshing out one of my PCs’ backstory! If you’re interested in being included on the taglist, just send me a message.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites, @mayvinwrites​

[writing-after-midnight]

Dreams of Darkness

Part 4

WRITING MASTERLIST

Helloooo, here’s the next part for you all. Feyre is going to meet the Inner Circle, woo! Sorry they’re coming out rly quick, but I’m excited and thought you’d want a few before I go off to study for mocks for like 3 weeks? Anyway, if ya wanna be tagged, message me :) here ya go! X

**********

“Rhys! Who’s this with you?” A blonde haired woman asked Rhysand with a smirk. Feyre was nervous to meet Rhysand’s friends, as it had been a while since she had had to have a normal conversation with someone. The woman was dressed in a short, crimson dress and heels, and had beautifully curled blonde hair. Normally, Feyre was weary of overly confident people, but it was something in the woman’s smile that made Feyre feel at ease.

“Feyre, this is my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet Feyre.” Rhysand said. Feyre quaintly held out her hand for Mor to shake, but before she knew it, she was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. She was extremely confused. Unless she was extremely drunk, Mor had no reason to hug her so tight, like they were already close friends. She didn’t mind, but it was just odd if she did that to everyone she met.

“Feyre! Welcome to the Inner Circle!” Mor exclaimed. Feyre was even more confused. Mor must have saw the confusion on her face, as she added, “Rhys doesn’t usually introduce us to many of his acquaintances unless they’re actually his close friends, and all of his close friends tend to be in the Inner CIrcle.” Mor chuckled. Feyre was perplexed at this statement. She had known Rhysand for no longer than an hour, and he possibly considered her as a close friend? She let the questions slide; she could ask them later. 

Although she was trying to not look confused or nervous, a man appeared from behind Mor and grinned at her. He had rugged features, but he was still handsome. His long hair fell to his shoulders, and he wore a navy blue shirt that accentuated his muscles.

“Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” He said, flashing a smile at her. “I’m Cassian, Rhys’ best and oldest friend.”

Rhysand snorted. “Oldest friend, but more annoying than anything.”

“Oi! That’s no way to treat your best friend!” Cassian exclaimed, laughter in his eyes. “So Feyre, what do you do?” 

“I moved here for my scholarship in art three years ago, and hoped to open my own art gallery. But until recently I was working in the Prythian Library.”

“Hoped?”

“Uh.. yeah. But I haven’t collected enough money to open a studio yet.” Feyre answered. She looked over to Rhysand, and a hint of suspicion flickered in his eyes. It was like he could read her like an open book. Nevertheless, he didn’t question it, for which she was eternally grateful.

“So, how about you?” Feyre asked.

Mor answered. “I opened the boutique on Main Street a few weeks ago, and it’s going really well.”

“The one with the fluffy grey jumper in the window? I was planning to order it for myself next week! And—“ Feyre knew she’d slipped up. She’d said she had no money not 30 seconds ago then just told them that she was going to one of the most expensive boutiques in town (Thank the Mother they hadn’t recognised her in the dress, at least.) ... it was very obvious to the group that she was hiding things now, and they looked at her with a sort of confusion, but Mor carried on the conversation.

“Oh! Well you’re welcome to drop by any time and have a chat with me,” Mor smiled. “What other sorts of clothes do you like? We’ll have to arrange a day and we can have fun picking you an outfit!”

Mor sounded so genuine, like she was actually excited to know Feyre. She knew she had found a friend in this ‘Inner Circle’. Feyre grinned and nodded.

Then, another man materialised behind Mor, with more refined features than Cassian’s, and had a quiet aura about him. His brown eyes scanned the scene before him, and lay upon Feyre, assessing. 

“Hi, I’m Feyre. Apparently I’ve been adopted into the Inner Circle, have you been too?” She asked, smiling. 

“Good evening Feyre, it’s lovely to meet you. My name’s Azriel.” He said. He didn’t seem to want to add anything else, but it wasn’t because he didn’t like Feyre; in fact, he had projected a small, warm smile towards her. She guessed he just didn’t like talking too much.

Before they could restart the conversation again, a woman with poker-straight, jet-black hair walked up behind Cassian and Azriel, and even as they towered over her, they parted for her as her commanding eyes lay upon both of them. If she could make two grown men move that quickly, would Feyre pass as suitable for the Circle in her eyes?

Before Feyre could politely introduce herself, the woman said, “And who is this Rhysand?” Her eyes pierced Feyre.

“Amren, be nice; this is Feyre. She has been here at the party this evening.” Rhysand replied.

“Hmm...” Amren watched her for a few more seconds, and Feyre couldn’t help but shift slightly under her gaze. “Another added to our group. You’ll be a good addition to our ranks.” She announced. Feyre almost sagged in relief.

“Anyone else I can meet?” Feyre joked.

**********

The six of them had laughed and chatted the whole night away. Feyre felt like she had finally found some real friends, not fake ones who had saccharine smiles, like Ianthe. It must have been many hours and plenty of unspilled drinks later when the last of the party guests had left. They resigned themselves into the spacious living room, still making jokes and telling each other about themselves.

Feyre only realised the text sent to her phone when she checked for the time. The text was sent from Ianthe an hour ago, when the majority of guests had left.

Hey babe, left with my friends, couldn’t find you so assumed you’d left anyway xxxx

The cheek she had had, leaving her in a crowd by herself to slink away with her another set of acquaintances, not truly caring about what happened to her. If Tamlin found out that Ianthe had left her... Feyre immediately forgot her worries when Mor such a funny joke that Cassian had wine spraying out of his nose. He made a terrible mess of his clothes, just like Feyre earlier. How ridiculous of her to be so upset about that dress... why had she been so upset before? She could only remember the main events of the evening and being with Rhys and the others.

The night had gone from horrifying to spectacular. She hadn’t had a night like this for ages. Even though she had loosened up around the others quickly, she found herself talking to Rhys for most of the evening. He had the most interesting stories to tell, and always had a quip to make her laugh. Before tonight, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed genuinely. Yet here this man was, charming and inspiring. Had she had a few too many to drink, or was Rhys even more handsome when he was smiling at her? His deep blue eyes had twinkled whenever she spoke the whole evening. His smile had also grown more mischievous.

The night wore on even further, and she wanted to stay for longer and hear about the time when Cassian got chased by a rogue peacock at the zoo, but the back of Feyre’s mind ordered her to get home. “Rhysssie... I need to get home...” Feyre slurred, a smile playing on her lips as his head turned.

Mor overheard this and announced, “You can’t leave without our numbers! You’re gonna have to keep in contact now! We’ve become such good friends!”

Feyre agreed with Mor and gave her her phone to add the numbers in of the Inner Circle. Mor typed them into her phone in record time and insisted they all had a contact photo. Mor steadied her swaying body and managed to find what she thought was her best angle in her daze and snapped herself with a wide, goofy grin. 

“OOH, ME! ME! ME!” Cried a plastered Cassian. He snatched the phone out of Mor’s hand, and made the best duck pout Feyre had seen. Cassian shoved the phone in Azriel’s face and snapped his unimpressed face. Next on his photography duties, he caught Amren mid-snarl. Finally, he turned to Rhys. “Strike a poseee!” He exclaimed. Feyre didn’t know what made her do it -- maybe the wine or the mischief radiating from Cassian -- but she ran up to Rhys and slapped a huge kiss on the side of his cheek, just as the camera flashed. She let out a loud cackle at Rhys’ dumbfounded face when she turned to him. The rest of the group joined her and howled with laughter at his wide eyes and the small grin starting to develop on his face.

Then, she suddenly felt so tired. Rhys looked over at her, eyes half-lidded too. In fact, everyone, even Amren, looked half dead, but happy. He seemed to understand the message and signaled to all of them to start ending the story. Rhys gently pulled her to the side. 

“I would drive you home, but I’m afraid I’m a bit too drunk to do that. I can ring for a taxi?” He asked.

Oh yeah, Feyre needed to get home, but her brain was switching off. Her eyes drooped further. “I hope you don’t mind, but actually, I think I’ll fall asleep before it getsss here. Could I sleep on the couch for tonight?” Feyre giggled; she supposed it was the morning now, not the night.

“Well, I have a spare bedroom, if you would like to use that.” Rhys smiled.

“I would like that verrry much.”

Deciding to wrap it up for the night, Feyre heard Rhys shout to the others to get out unless they wanted to stay over. She heard cries of outrage from Cassian and Mor before she leaned against Rhys’ waiting shoulder and closed her eyes.

**********

She briefly awoke to Rhys laying her down on a plush bed, as gently as he could in his daze, barely conscious himself. He gathered the blankets and tucked them around her body with care.

The fluffy pillows were calling Feyre to sleep, but before she closed her eyes again, she said, “Rhys, thank you for a truuuly wonderful night.”

She saw him smile in the darkness. “You’re very welcome Feyre, I had a lovely time too.”

Her eyes closed.

“Thank you for bringing a bit of light back into my life again. Sleep well, Feyre.” Rhys said, the words blurting out of his mouth, but Feyre was already asleep. He left, and the door clicked shut quietly behind him.

**********

Tagging: @call-me-amissa @illyrianbeauty @l0sts0uls1128 @musicmaam @ame233 @pleasantclamwriter @massiverockcollection @dreams-of-feysand @callie-bear15 @aelinthemaassassin @huntress-of-velaris @writtenwordheart @rolltide7 @reading-and-regretting @ellenoftroy @kingdomofbrokenhearts @girlgotattitude448 @anr2332 @amylolysis @amazinginglyawesomeperson @tothemaas @feyrecursebreaker

[blustersquall]

a...work in progress for gladio and isla, that is probably gonna get smutty at some point. or as smutty as my shit gets. like, when my brain starts to work again. i’m super tired rn. enjoy this non proof read wip.

established friendship, like... just before the events of ffxv/kingsglaive and where gladio and isla have been friends for about a year.

taglets: @ffxvhoe @mp938368 [again i hope that’s okay]

It was never Isla’s intention for Gladio to stay the night.

She had a rule after all, no guys in her place, just in case she needed a safe space if things went bad. Though, that rule was really only made to apply to men she was in a relationship with. She wasn’t in a relationship with Gladio. They were friends. If she was totally frank, he was probably her closest male friend, ever. So, him staying over when it got past midnight and with the rain utterly torrential was nothing. Just a friendly gesture.

It didn’t matter that they’d shared her bed. Or that she was attracted to him. Had been attracted to him since the first time he walked into her bar. It didn’t matter that her attraction to him had only grown over time, and she was utterly frustrated with how oblivious he was to it. There were only so many signs a woman could throw out there, without writing the obvious down. Or simply throwing herself at a man.

Which she had been tempted to do.

On more than one occasion.

Still, there he was. Taking up three quarters of her bed with his height and size, all but crushing her against the wall. So-much-so she couldn’t even reach across to check the time on her phone because it would mean disturbing him.

She supposed there were worse places to be. Worse people to be sharing a bed with and waking up beside. And, she would be lying if she said she hadn’t daydreamed about it.

He snored like a beast. More that once Isla was sure she felt the bed frame shake, but it was more hilarious that annoying. At last she had found something about him that was a flaw. Something she could tease him endlessly about. Though, she doubted something as stupid as snoring would bother him in the least. He was hot, too. Not just visually, but his body temperature was through the roof. Isla didn’t even need a blanket with him sleeping beside her. He was a human heater.

Lying on her side, she leaned up, shifting to be able to lie on her front and up on her forearms. Her movement didn’t seem to disturb him and it gave her a moment to observe him from a different, higher angle.

Gladio knew how beautiful he was. And he was beautiful, but Isla had never really had the chance to examine him up close before. Not without him talking and ruining the moment. Now, she could. And she saw a softer side of him that she rarely saw. Occasionally, it appeared. The small, gentle smile there, a warm, affectionate gaze there, but those were few and far between. Now, as he slept, the softness was all across his face, in his cheeks, and the relaxed parting of his full lips. In the way his eyes were closed and his eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones. There were no lines marring his forehead. There was no frown in his expression, no harshness.

It betrayed his youth. He was the next Shield of the King, and that came with an abundance of responsibilities already. Too many for someone not even twenty-five, but Gladio shouldered them all and rarely complained. Here and now, he looked like any other young man, sleeping soundly and dreaming… Isla hoped he was dreaming something pleasant.

She examined the pattern of his tattoo. The way the feathers were so intricately layered and detailed over his arms and his shoulders before they disappeared onto his back. Each feather was individually inked, no single one the same as any other. The bird’s face on his chest moved with his breaths, making it seem as though the beak was opening and closing ever-so-subtly. Isla watched it for a while, watched him and listened, revelling in this sanctuary and the peace it provided. Peace that would soo be disturbed as they would each have to begin the day,

Gladio, especially, needed to make a move. He was meant to be accompanying the Prince on a trip to Altissia for his wedding and there was no way he could be late for that.

Isla knew she would have to wake him herself and reluctantly set about the task. She plucked one of her small braids between her thumb and forefinger, gripping with the tuft of hair poking out from the hair tie. She tickled the end of Gladio’s nose, smirking as he grunted ad wafted a hand over his face in a vague attempt to get rid of the annoyance.

“C’mon, Wonder Boy,” Isla murmured, brushing her hair over his top lip, “time to wake up. You can’t leave the Prince waiting…”

“Mmph,” Gladio waved his hand again, grunting and his voice rumbling an incoherant excuse that was simply a moan. He opened one eye a little, closed it, and rolled over, facing Isla. Without opening his eyes again, he took hold of her hand – the one gripping her small braid – and led it back to drape over his shoulder and behind him. Isla toppled onto her side, giggling and allowing Gladio to move her. She began to twist her fingers around his hair, and he left his top arm lying lazily over her hip, the tips of his fingers drawing abstract shapes.

“Not a morning person?” Isla asked.

Another grunted response. Gladio moved closer, and instinctively Isla shifted her legs to accomdate his closeness, sliding her top leg between his and inching towards him. They were nose-to-nose. Isla could feel the breaths he expelled against her mouth. She didn’t think they’d ever been as close as this before.

“Gladio,” Isla pushed again, “you have to get up.”

“Tryin’ t’get rid of me?” grumbled Gladio, eyes half-opening. He looked at her blearily from beneath heavily hooded eyelids. His gaze took several seconds to focus, and when it did, his expression softened from mild annoyance from being awoken, and discomfort from the sunlight, to warmth and genuine affection. Isla’s stomach twisted uncomfortably tight in her gut, and she was sure if she was standing her legs would have given way. “G’mornin’…” Gladio smiled, tilting his head back a little to press a peck to the end of her nose. He spread his hand across her back, guiding her closer to him so they were all but chest-to-chest – the only obstacle between them being Isla’s arm, curled up against her body and the mattress.

“Hey,” Isla smiled. She tried not to let the kiss on her nose break her focus. Nor the sweetness in his expression. The way he stroked her back was not in the least bit distracting. Neither was the smell of him now on her pillow, in her sheets, and so close she could taste it on her tongue.

“Hey…” mumbled Gladio, wearing a sleepy smile. Isla hated how he could be as adorable as he was, sometimes. Especially when she needed to be kicking him out of bed and starting the day. They both needed to start the day. Exhaling deeply, Gladio closed his eyes and relaxed back into the tempting lull of sleep. He brushed his fingers along Isla’s spine and up towards the nape of her neck, tickling the bare flesh he found with a delicate touch she found surprising for a man with hands as large as his. Isla didn’t say anything in response, selfishly wanting to spend the time with her bedfellow. To be as close as possible before he left for… however long he was leaving. After all, even he didn’t know. They could text, and call – but it wouldn’t be the same.

After a few minutes of soft touches and silence broken only by their breathing, the birds outside, and the occasional car chuntering by, Gladio spoke again, “this is nice.” His eyes still closed, Isla looked at him quizzically, “I could get used to this.”

“Sleeping in?” asked Isla.

“Waking up. With you.” Gladio’s eyes slipped open and his warm copper eyes met hers, “I could get used to waking up with you.”

Dozens of words and phrases jammed themselves onto Isla’s tongue and into her head, battling to be said. Several reactions of what she should do or how she should behave in response to a comment so touching and intimate flooded her senses, yet none of them took. Isla was stone. Stunned and her voice was gone. Not that it mattered as Gladio grew closer, centimetre by centimetre, tilting his head as much as the pillows would allow, brushing the end of her nose with his as if questioning if she was alright, if his closeness was allowed, and if she was giving permission for him to kiss her; because that was what he was about to do. He was about to kiss her, and he was going to let him. She was going to let him, and kiss him back and possibly not allow him to leave her bed if he did. She was going to—

Her thoughts stopped, broken by the loud, obnoxious tone of a phone alarm. Blinking in confusion, Isla saw the source of the noise was Gladio’s phone on her bedside table. Without a word, Gladio rolled over to grab it, tapped a button, and threw his phone unceremoniously across her apartment in vague direction. The chiming stopped. Gladio rolled back into his previous position, facing her, and before Isla could question him for the time, his mouth was on hers.

Isla’s mind went blank. 

Every thought, every word, every question and feeling fleeing and being replaced by one, all consuming thing: Gladio. He cupped her jaw, thumb resting in the hollow under her chin, while his fingers gentle nestled into her hair. His lips, rough on hers, moved in tandem, meeting ever subtle change of her mouth, every little addition of pressure. Warmth simmering in Isla’s chest and belly erupted into a bubbling, nervous heat and she suddenly didn’t care that he needed to go to the Citadel to meet with the Prince and begin the trip to Altissia. She didn’t care that she was being selfish, and keeping him from his sacred duty. She didn’t care that this was coming out of no where, and probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. 

All that mattered was that he was there. He was with her, real, and present, and kissing her.

tbc at some point because fuckin’ tiiiiirrrrredddddd (couples waking up together is my weakness)