#i am in a silly mood apparently

[fence-time]

I thought you'd enjoy this thought but like

The temptation to make sl!Skizz a galah cus bright pink (and also we just really like cockatoos)

I just think that Skizz should get to be a flamboyant pink bird that isn't a flamingo /lh

- May

Do you think he’s trying to get people to join love island by doing a mating dance……?

[onioneyez]

You guys I am happy yet again!!!!! HELL yes

[p-0-p-3]

[ruairy]

.

[goldentigerfestival]

@likestoimagine16

#Ngl but I play the game exclusively wit Japanese dialogue for exactly this kind of stuff#I love the fact that Yuri is just unabashedly soft in Japanese#or I guess he’s more adaptable?#I dunno#there are people he’s more openly soft with and people where he ‘masks’ it a little more#(using the term incredibly loosely cuz it’s more like ‘plausible’ deniability of softness rather than an actual disguise)#and I feel like it might be a ‘reaching where the other person is at’ type of thing#or mirroring?#something#I have to admit I’m going off of memory and my incredibly haphazard understanding of Japanese + vocal tones#but I get the sense that when he’s not actively antagonizing people for fun and profit#he’s really good at meeting people where they’re at and connecting with them

Yes! Exactly! All of this! Yuri has his fun but he knows when to take things seriously, and that shows a lot in Toriumi's performance. Yuri will match the energy of the other person. Like I mentioned in my video of him with Don in Don's last moments, they clearly respect each other but there's still a softness in Yuri's voice as he knows he's talking to this man for the very last time, and he understands this - dying - is not how Don wants things to go, but that he's just taking responsibility. He's doing what Yuri does, which is taking on the burden for others/caused by others.

In general Yuri has a lot of vocal nuance in JP. Whether it's matching someone's emotional energy to let them feel less alone or more understood, or even just soft sounds like sighing or verbal hesitation, you can hear the tiny indicators in his mood. I don't know if Toriumi was directed that way, added it in himself or both, but it comes out sounding very amazing and keeps me very engaged in Yuri's character, even when I already know it and have been through the game multiple times.

Yuri, typically, is very playful and/or casual, but when his mood shifts you can hear it. When he's trying to connect with someone and drops his own energy to let them know he's there for them, you can hear it.

This is partly (among other things) why I say the dub lost so much of who Yuri is, because most of those same lines are spoken with a neutral tone. There are times when Yuri sounds like he's about to cry, or he's at least got his voice cracking (at least three off the top of my head) that got changed in the dub. It loses so much raw emotion from Yuri himself. Yuri is as much emotional as he is silly, and that emotion has a range. It's especially true when something is emotional for someone else, or it's something life altering for him or someone else (like Don's final moments).

Also? The scene after Schwann "died"? Yuri was so understanding and reasonable with Leblanc - as soft as he'd ever been with him. He knew it would hurt Leblanc to hear the truth, but they couldn't risk being stopped so he made his point, but at the same time he also was in pain from the presumed loss. Usually he and Leblanc didn't get along, but Yuri met him in the middle because he knew it was going to be painful for Leblanc to learn that Schwann was still stuck in Bactian as it was collapsing. It was a shared pain and you could hear that from Yuri.

In general though yes, Yuri is way, significantly softer as a person in JP. He is more human and shows a much larger range of emotion. I've always loved Yuri, but the more I dug into other content (even things as non-canon as TalesFes, because Toriumi to date has always been there and always gets to voice for Yuri there during their skits) the more I just fell in love with that intense range of emotion - especially from a male character (i.e. there's no "he's a man so he can't possibly be an emotional human being", and this game was also released back in 2008. That stuff might seem more common now, but it wasn't during Vesperia's time). Eventually I just decided you know what, I need to get this out there to people who are interested in knowing about JP Yuri because he really is a brilliantly written character.

Sorry for the tangent LOL. I just have. Feelings. About JP Yuri. All very good feelings.

I repeat, I am a sucker for soft, gentle Yuri, and the way Yuri goes so soft for Karol because Karol just wants to be believed and is sad makes my heart a little puddle.

[catmiemy]

Not Work Day (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

Summary: Aitana and you spend a rare day off together.

A/N: This is just a silly little story I thought of a while ago and finally wrote in hopes of getting into more of a writting mood again. So many ideas and so little ability to put them on 'paper' lately...

I hope you enjoy this one! :)

Dating a professional football player wasn’t always easy. Whenever you mentioned that to anyone they usually assumed you referred to your girlfriend having to travel a lot or the lack of days off together because of conflicting schedules, or the interest the nosey media and even nosier public had in your relationship.

And sure, all of these things could be tricky at times, but there was something else that was even harder to bear; seeing your girlfriend being worked to the ground with almost no time to recuperate properly. Before you started dating Aitana you had never thought much about it, now it haunted you during the days and disturbed your dreams.

Every new injury you heard about made your stomach drop, always wondering the same thing, what if next time it would be your girlfriend going down with some horrible injury? The guilt always followed close behind, with your berating yourself for being happy in any capacity that someone else got hurt.

More often than not it was a struggle to watch Aitana’s games. You had a tendency to clench every single muscle in your body until the final whistle was blown, and you could be sure that nothing bad had happened.

For a while you did your best to keep these concerns to yourself, not wanting to make Aitana worry about you unnecessarily. Convinced that if you just wanted it enough, you would get over this.

You should have known that your girlfriend would catch on; she was too perceptive not to notice it, too concerned about your well-being to miss it.

When she did you explained somewhat reluctantly what was bothering you; the last thing you wanted was for your girlfriend to feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault at all and she shouldn’t feel bad about playing the sport she loved.

Despite your best efforts to downplay it, the first thing you saw in Aitana’s eyes once you finished your explanation was guilt. Most likely because you were looking for that emotion specifically, but in that moment you couldn’t think rationally like this. You were about to apologize, try and take it back somehow, when she asked you one simple question.

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel better about it?”

Up until that point it had never occurred to you to think about possible ways to make the situation easier for yourself. Usually your thoughts had been centered around scolding yourself for being such a worrywart. It made you oddly emotional that Aitana took you this seriously and didn’t dismiss your concerns.

Neither of you found a satisfying answer to the question that night, but over time you came up with something that helped, a tradition that you called ‘not work days’. 

On one of these ‘not work days’ you were awoken by Aitana trying to get up. Without opening your eyes you reached out to grab her wrist and pull her back into bed. You were met by some resistance, forcing you to open your eyes and scowl at the brunette.

“Hey, you work or not work?” You asked, leaving no room for interpretation what the correct answer was.

Aitana rolled her eyes at you, but relented, snuggling back into you much to your delight. You wrapped your arms around her and buried your face in her shoulder.

“I’m never going to be free of that stupid phrase, am I?” She grumbled.

“Nope,” you agreed, “And now hush, it’s way too early to be up on a not work day.”

You felt some lingering tenseness in your girlfriend’s body, apparently she wasn’t fully ready yet to commit to resting some more. It was time to pull out your magic weapon; you began gently tracing small circles in the space between Aitana’s eyebrows. It worked like a charm. Within seconds the brunette fell back asleep and you let yourself drift off as well.

The next time you woke up it was on your own accord, like you hoped it would be. Usually when you managed to get your girlfriend back to sleep she didn’t wake up again until late in the morning. In your mind a clear indication that the Spaniard needed this extra rest.

You allowed yourself to linger in bed a little longer to hold Aitana in your arms and watch her sleep. It was rare for her to be still if she was awake, always moving around, busy with one thing after another.

Mostly the midfielder loved it and was happy with her life, but sometimes it became all too much. She had confided in you a while back that being with you had helped her to finally find a healthy balance in her life. That was without a doubt the biggest compliment anyone had ever given you.

After a few more minutes you placed a soft kiss on your girlfriend’s forehead, before carefully extracting yourself and moving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Breakfast in bed was a staple of the not work days..

You hummed happily to yourself while you made an omelet, mixed a smoothie and cut up some cherry tomatoes. And of course you couldn’t forget about the coffee! When everything was ready you walked back to the bedroom, ready to wake up Aitana with some gentle cuddles.

However, your plan was thwarted. You opened the door and instantly spotted your girlfriend on her cell phone. This in itself wasn’t a problem, but the way she had crunched up her nose and her eyebrows were knitted together, revealed to you that she was most likely looking at something work related. She looked too stressed for this to be anything else.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, “This is a not work day!”

You expected the Catalan to smile at you apologetically, instead a huge grin appeared on her face and she turned her phone around. It took a moment until you realized why she had done that; your girlfriend was recording the entire interaction and apparently she thought this was hilarious.

“Haha, very funny,” you grumbled, “I really thought you were working already.”

“I know, you should have seen your face,” Aitana replied between laughter, “Oh wait, you can. Come over here, mi amor.” She patted the bed next to her, but you remained standing. You would have crossed your arms, but the breakfast tray was stopping you from doing so.

“Don’t be like that, mi amor. I’m only giving back what you’ve been handing out. Or do I have to remind you how often you’re sending me that stupid ‘You work or not work’ video? How you even added some cute animal pictures to the beginning of it, so I wouldn’t recognize right away what clip it is? You violated the sanctity of cute animal pictures!”

The midfielder sounded so scandalized by this that you couldn’t help but crack a smile. You shuffled over to the bed, leaning over to give your girlfriend a good morning kiss. Just like you hoped this successfully distracted her from the stupid video she had recorded because you had no interest in watching it. You were admittedly better at teasing than being teased.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Aitana asked, tucking into her breakfast. “This is so good by the way.”

“No plans, we just do whatever you want to do,” you responded, deliberately ignoring her praise. Dealing with compliments also wasn’t one of your strengths.

“Whatever I want?” The Catalan asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Everything that’s within the rules of not work days,” you clarified.

“But coming up with ideas is work too,” your girlfriend complained.

“My poor baby! Okay, here are some ideas; we can bundle up on the couch and watch a movie, we can make cookies, we can take a walk in the rain…”

“Yes! Let’s take a walk in the rain,” Aitana interrupted, her choice surprising you. The midfielder wasn’t known for liking the rain, in fact she made no secret of how much she hated the rain.

“Really?” You double-checked.

Your girlfriend nodded, “Yeah, you made it sound so romantic a few days ago. Both of us under one umbrella, the rain pattering on it, huddling close together for warmth. Sounds like a movie scene.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

The two of you got ready, Aitana putting on much more clothes than you. Normally you would tease your girlfriend about it, but you didn’t want to risk her remembering the video she had taken earlier.

In the beginning the walk was actually romantic. The sound of the pitter patter on the umbrella was soothing, especially with how quiet and deserted the roads were. You breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of rain. Aitana was snuggling into your side and when you looked over she had a soft smile on her lips.

Before too long however, you noticed that your girlfriend clung a little too strongly to you and she was dragging her feet. This time when you glanced her way you were met by an unhappy expression, though it quickly morphed into a forced smile as soon as Aitana noticed your eyes on her.

You pulled her to a stop. “What is it, babe?”

“My feet are wet,” the Catalan whined.

Your eyes snapped to her feet. Your girlfriend was wearing her favorite and already pretty worn sneakers. It wasn’t really surprising that they weren’t able to withstand the rain anymore.

“Then let’s go back home,” you stated, already turning around and tugging Aitana’s hand to follow you.

“No, I don’t want to ruin this.”

You turned to face the midfielder again, cupping her cheek with your free hand.

“And I don’t want you to be miserable, or worse get sick. And anyway this is your not work day, so you should only do things you’re enjoying.”

Aitana nuzzled slightly into your palm, smiling up at you. “Okay, but I disagree, it’s our not work day.”

You walked back rapidly to your apartment and when you got there you sent the brunette to the bedroom with the instruction to change into something comfy and get rid of her wet socks.

“Don’t put on other ones though! I have something for you,” you added.

A few minutes later you met Aitana back at the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and the other one hidden behind your back. Your girlfriend craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek, but you didn’t allow it.

“Show meeeee,” the Catalan begged.

You followed the request, showing her the fluffy socks you had bought a while back. A huge smile spread across Aitana’s face as she saw them.

“They look so comfortable. Thank you! But how did you know I would need them?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t. I just bought them randomly for a not work day. It’s pure luck that you got wet feet today.”

“Or maybe this was all part of an elaborate evil plan to get me to undress my feet in front of you,” Aitana joked.

“You got me there. That’s why I raved about walks in the rain and that’s why I suggested it this morning. I even sabotaged your shoes,” you explained with a serious face.

Your girlfriend giggled happily. “I guess in that case you’ve earned the right to put on the new socks and give me a foot rub afterwards,” she said, sticking her feet out towards you.

“How generous of you!” You exclaimed, quickly putting on the fluffy socks.

Then you went to sit down next to Aitana to give her the requested foot rub, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw the midfielder glaring at you.

“Everything okay?” You asked uncertainly.

“No!” The brunette cried out, making your heart beat faster; what had you done wrong? “I need you to change into comfortable clothes as well. This doesn’t look like a good outfit to relax in.”

You looked down yourself and only now realized that you were still wearing jeans. “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

Before you got a change to move away, Aitana caught your hand and pulled you in for a kiss. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t realize it would actually make you anxious,” she apologized. “And now go, I need my girlfriend to warm me up.”

You were happy to oblige, hurrying to the bedroom.

“And can you bring the laptop back with you? I’m in the mood for some online shopping,” Aitana shouted after you.

You were happy to do so since it signified that your girlfriend had fully gotten into the swing of the not work day. It was always the same; in the beginning she didn’t know what she wanted to do, but as time progressed the midfielder became more attuned to her own desires that she so often put on the back burner.

On your return you handed Aitana the laptop before plopping down by her feet, taking them in your lap for the promised foot rub. You hadn’t even started yet, when your girlfriend let out a surprise “Oh”, pulling her feet back and scooting closer to you instead.

“What are these?” She asked, showing you the screen with your last internet search. It had completely slipped your mind what you had been looking at the day before.

“Dresses,” you offered up dryly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Any special occasion?” Aitana probed.

“You know the answer to that. It’s not every day you get to accompany your girlfriend to an award show for the best football players in the world,” you replied nervously; although you didn’t know why you felt nervous about this.

“Aw, I really appreciate that!” Your girlfriend cooed, her eyes flickering over the screen, “Can I help pick?”

You nodded; that had always been the plan. Since this was the first time you were going along as Aitana’s partner you wanted to look your best, so another opinion was definitely needed.

“Some of them are pretty expensive,” the Catalan mentioned carefully.

Money had always been a touchy subject between the two of you. Aitana had a lot more of it than you did; still you didn’t feel comfortable with constantly letting her pay, insisting that you took turns. The brunette wasn’t too happy about that, but by now you had found some middle ground, usually going to less expensive places when it was your turn to pay.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you dismissed Aitana’s concern, “And I want to look worthy of my girlfriend. You know she’s currently the best football player in the world?”

“You sound so proud of me.”

Atiana’s voice was oddly quit; it made you wonder if she doubted that you were proud of her. You thought back to the last few games and realized with a start that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually said these words. This way worrying, especially considering your girlfriend had a hard time believing things unless she heard them over and over again.

“That’s because I am,” you responded firmly, vowing to do better.

“Even if it makes you anxious?” The brunette wondered.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Let’s be honest, no matter what job you had, I would always be anxious about something. That’s the annoying thing about anxiety; it’ll always find something else to worry about.”

Aitana looked up at you hopefully, “So you don’t hate that I’m a footballer?”

“What? No, of course not! And I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” you apologized.

“Well that’s good then,” your girlfriend announced, a smirk appearing on her face, “But hey, is working out issues even allowed on a not work day? Or did you just break your own rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course it’s allowed and since they’re my rules, I can change them whenever I want.”

Aitana raised her eyebrows, fighting to keep her face neutral, “Oh really, is that how it works?”

“Yes,” you nodded sagely.

A devilish grin appeared on your girlfriend’s face, and too late you recognized your mistake.

“In that case I’m making my own rules as well and decide that I get to buy you this blue dress.” She pointed to the one that was your absolute favorite, but that was also firmly out of your price range.

“Aitana,” you groaned, “That’s not how it works!”

“Oh? If you can make up random rules, so can I,” the Catalan pointed out, daring you to disagree with her.

“That’s not the same at all. I don’t want you to spend money on my clothes,” you argued

“Why not? If you think about it, I’ll get to appreciate your dress much more than you. I can admire you in it all night long, and maybe I’ll even get to take if off of you. And this dress will look stunning on you; it will really bring out your eyes.”

“Fine”, you relented, making your girlfriend squeal happily. There was one more thing to say though, so you stopped Aitana’s over the top celebration with one hand. “But this means you can only get me something small for my birthday.

“Okay,” the midfielder agreed suspiciously quickly.

“And I mean that, Tana!” You doubled down.

Your girlfriend nodded, but seemed to be only half-listening, too busy adding the dress to your cart. You would just have to bring it up again when your birthday was closer because you wouldn’t be budging on that.

After Aitana successfully ordered the dress, she leaned back with a content sigh.

“I really love these not work days, you know?”

Your heart leapt happily at that concession.  “Me too, babe.”

Sometimes you wished you got more of them, but maybe not having them all the time made them extra special.

[fayes-fics]

Vibe & Vexation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU w/ Regency roleplay

Summary: Watching Pride & Prejudice evokes playtime in Benedict.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, established couple, Regency era sexual roleplay, teasing, remote vibrator, dirty talk, female orgasm, brief vaginal sex. Also features lake!Darcy!Benedict, anachronistic costumes (just like the real show this season tbh) and absolutely unacceptable use of Jane Austen.

Word count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Yes, the title is a terrible play on Pride & Prejudice. Listen, I don't know what this is either, and I'm posting before I lose my nerve after 3 weeks of writer's block. This is dedicated to @godofstory whose casual comment on one of my fics finally dislodged my brain block. This is modern Benedict roleplaying Regency. Also thanks to @colettebronte for reading through, being kind and saying I haven’t lost my mind. Well, not completely. Err, enjoy? <3

“Ben, don't be silly…”

“Are you suggesting that I wouldn't look dashing in a frilly shirt and snug trousers?” he teases, raising his head from your belly and twisting to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint as the credits roll on the Austen film you've been idly watching on a rainy Sunday.

“No, I'm not saying that,” you chuckle, your fingers touselling his hair. “You look good in everything and nothing…” you tease, enjoying the prideful swell of his chest at your compliment. “But I'm not in the mood to track down Regency outfits for a little sexy role play.”

“Leave the details to me, my love.” He waves a dismissive hand as he flips over and begins to crawl over you. “I will be your Mr Darcy….” he attests, lowering his voice to that rumble which always makes your belly flutter.

“But I don't have a lake in this flat,” you deadpan, perhaps not helpfully referencing a different adaptation, but too distracted to care, his crooked smile hovering right above you now.

“‘Tis a pity,” he agrees, quirking his lips, “but I shall think of something….” he winks before capturing your lips with his. 

And, just like that, you forget all about the subject…

—

Two days later

“They didn't have any fusilli, so I got penne; I hope that's okay…” you call out as you enter your flat, dropping the heavy bag of shopping from your shoulder and flinging off your shoes, grateful to be out of them and home.

When there is no answer, you frown. When you texted on your way home, he sent back a list of supplies for dinner.

“Ben…?” you round the corner into the kitchen and realise it's empty, nothing cooking on the hob. “You're not even cooking….?” you raise your arms in a shrugging gesture, nonplussed, apparently talking to yourself in what appears to be an empty flat.

“Ms Bennet….”

His voice rings out resonant, a teasing lilt that has you spinning around. And almost toppling over.

There, in the doorway to your bathroom, is Benedict…. dressed up as a Regency gentleman. 

Well, partially dressed. And what he is dressed in is damp and clinging to his skin in a way that gives away absolutely everything about why you cannot resist him. Broad shoulders and a tapered torso, completely visible through the most transparent white frilled shirt you could ever imagine. Snug blue trousers that, again, give everything away. He must have hopped into the shower to achieve this effect, his clothing virtually painted upon his skin.

You literally bite the edge of your tongue.

“Mr Darcy….” you stumble, incapable of any other words, mouth falling open as he saunters towards you with a confident gait, his trousers straining over his thighs as he does so.

“My eyes are up here, Ms Bennet…” he teases as yours ping guiltily to his face, knowing you are being entirely called out for your ogling. 

“What if your eyes are the very last thing I am interested in, Mr Darcy?” you finally find your voice, stepping into the role of a feisty, historic heroine you enjoy so much.

“The eyes are the window to the soul…” he tilts his head challengingly, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s Shakespeare, not Austen,” you shoot back pointedly.

“All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes,” he corrects, indeed a quote from Pride and Prejudice. He has obviously been revising—something about that is as adorable as it is arousing.

“You don't fight fair…” you whisper as he closes in on you with a handsome smirk, but it hardly feels like defeat as his long fingers spider up your jacket buttons, the warm fug of his clothes amplifying the mouthwatering scent he wears under them.

“All is fair in love and war,” he counters, sliding nearer, his lips warm on your temple now as he flicks open your topmost button.

“Are you going to talk in literary quotes all night?” 

Your ask is much breathier than you intend, very much not a protest about what is transpiring—a tingle down your sternum where his fingers trail over your skin down to the next button. You feel the curve of his cheek against your face from his responding smile. 

“I might stop,” he proposes airily. ”But perhaps only to tease you until you pass out…” 

“How?”

The question falls from you unbidden, curiosity seizing your lips.

“With the help of things poor Mr Darcy never had access to…” he offers enigmatically. “But for now, how about you go change into your outfit, Ms Bennet?”

“I have an outfit too?” your breath catching at the idea he has planned a whole scenario.

“Oh yes, ‘tis hanging in your room, fair lady,” he mutters, taking a half pace back. But before you go, he grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth and dropping a kiss that is anything but chaste—wet, plush lips with a slight edge of teeth dragging over your knuckles as his hot tongue lathes between your fingers lasciviously. 

—

“I'm not sure this is quite Regency accurate…” you assert as you swan back into the living room a few minutes later, even as there is a frisson over your skin at the very sexy outfit he has chosen.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, his eyes lingering on the pronounced swell of your breasts as you sashay closer. “But yet, I cannot fault my choice.”

“More Marquis de Sade than Jane Austen…” you opine, revelling in his stare, the time spent fastening each hook and eye down the front of the ivory corset worth it for that hungry look and the nascent swelling you see in his clinging trousers. The silk, frilled French knickers he picked out are new, which you are grateful for, but they match perfectly. There was an odd weight to them as you pulled them on, though, but you did not spend much time contemplating it, so keen to get back to the scene.

“Ms Bennet, how dare you turn up to my home so scandalously dressed when I am entertaining company?” he admonishes, his tone suddenly brusque, stepping fully into his roleplay, gesturing to the empty kitchen area as if it were filled with guests.

“Mr Darcy, I can only apologise. I thought you were away on business,” you improvise, clutching your hands over your body in a futile attempt to conceal your state of undress, acting horrified to be caught.

“Do you make a habit of trespassing in my home and flouncing around so slatternly?” he snaps tersely, his eyes flashing approvingly.

You know the question is rhetorical, so you just hang your head, biting your lip, playing at being ashamed and chastised for being so wanton in the home of the man you desire. This is nothing like anything in Pride and Prejudice, but you could not give less of a damn, a flutter low in your gut that this could go somewhere utterly delicious. 

“I must insist you desist,” he continues imperiously. “This must never happen again! Now go to my private quarters and think upon what you have done!” he concludes, pointing to the sofa. 

“Yes, Mr Darcy,” you nod and curtsy with faux demureness, which he seems to greatly enjoy based on the flash in his eyes, seemingly even more so when you break character and poke out your tongue insolently as you pass.

You take a seat on the sofa and watch, initially confused, as Benedict remains in the kitchen area, play-acting as if he is chatting to guests, supping from a wine glass and gesturing. Puzzled, you watch as he reaches for his phone casually and flicks something on the screen, his back still turned to you.

There is a sudden, sharp buzz in your underwear that steals your breath, your legs tensing, your feet kicking out reflexively, sliding your clit heavier against the vibration.

Oh fuck.

That’s why the underwear felt oddly weighted. He must have snuck a thin remote vibe pad into the lining.

He makes a half-turn and smirks over his shoulder as you pant and stare at the play of his back muscles under his translucent shirt, your fingers clawing into the sofa at the sudden not-at-all-gentle onslaught.

“Ms Bennet, are you quite well?” he calls out, a triumphant look claiming his face. “You appear somewhat flushed.”

“Mr Darcy, I find myself in a most perplexing dilemma,” you grit out between clenched teeth, impressed you can even form words. The vibe is a persistent thrum that you attempt to tilt yourself away from slightly but seem unable, always there, dragging against you in a way that makes you writhe, your back arching.

He spins around to face you entirely now, putting down his wine glass, phone casual in the other hand, thumb hovering portentously over the screen with a gleeful mien.

“What troubles you, Ms Bennet?”

His lilt is teasing and velvet, humming in your bones as much as the toy. The vibration suddenly ceases, and you collapse back into the sofa, panting mildly, the corset restricting your ability to take the gulps of air you need, your chest heaving, unable to do anything but stare slack-jawed at him.

“Have you quite forgotten your words, Ms Bennet? I thought you a creature of learning…” he needles, the painted-on regency garb he wears just more temptation, his cock straining against the wool now. He makes no move to draw closer, but he does flick open the buttons around his wrists and roll up his sleeves, his toned forearms flexing as he does so.

“I am a woman of learning,” you defend after a pause, “but I find myself rather disadvantaged tonight. I suspect deception…” You narrow your eyes at him.

He throws his head back and laughs, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently as he does so. It makes you want to pitch forward and bite it.

“Whoever would deceive such a fine woman as you?” he fires back as he tilts back down. You cry out as his thumb yet again swipes over his screen, and your underwear roars back to life—this time a softer pulsing wave, but no less titillating, an inflaming tease that staccatos against your engorged flesh.

“You might, Mr Darcy…” you accuse, but it's lighthearted at best, a toothless threat as all of your efforts are focussed on the fizzing pleasure radiating out into your pelvis.

“On the contrary, Ms Bennet. In vain have I struggled…” he begins. 

That speech.

“It will not do….” he adds, shaking his head for good measure as he flicks open the buttons upon his soaked shirt, your eyes tracking the movement as each new slice of damp, heated skin is revealed in the soft, low lamplight.

“My feelings will not be repressed…” 

He peels the sodden shirt from his form, and you moan as that honed body is revealed to you, glistening slightly. The vibe is a roiling wave against your clit that makes your pussy clench around nothing, wishing to be filled.

“You must allow me….” he pauses and lopsidedly grins as he roughly tugs upon the buttons of his trousers, a teasing striptease that has you spiralling fast, leaking copiously into your knickers now.

“Allow you what…?” you throw in, huffing against the restriction of the corset, something about its tight hold escalating your addled state, moaning as he drops the last vestige of his clothing, his cock springing free. His whole being glowing with pride in how much he can affect you.

“To tell you how ardently I admire and love you….” he concludes, his voice dark and smooth, settling over your skin like warm molasses as he finally prowls towards you.

You want to pitch forward and nuzzle your face into his cock. But he dips down as he approaches, pushing your legs far apart with his hands and falling to his knees, burying his face into your cleavage. He suckles vehemently on the swell of your chest, lathing his tongue over your flushed skin as you fight to gasp in enough air, the vibe and his lush mouth hurtling you fast towards oblivion, his hands a firm grip on your hips.

“I love you too, Mr Darcy,” you gulp in delayed response. “But, please release me from this torture…” you append weakly, needing reprieve from the prolonged hold.

“Is it not the sweetest torture, though?” he argues back as his nose trails up your clavicle to your neck, his mouth earnest upon a spot that always makes you pliant. “I want to see you struggle, my love, bound in my corset, sat upon my vibe, teased and vexed until you can take no more….” his words are a sinful soliloquy gusting almost wistfully into your ear, your lobe snagged under his teeth.

“Take pity upon me, please; I am distressed,” you appeal, feeling a slight wooziness as you circle a chasm of pleasure that licks teasingly at your edges.

“You are beautiful,” he counters, a firm hand cupping the back of your head and puppets you to stare into his blown pupils, his rigid cock trailing a sticky line over your thigh as he rumbles more debauched. “Now come for me, Ms Bennet, and then I shall have you…”

You screw your eyes shut just as he flicks to a higher setting on the vibe and can no longer fight or struggle, letting your body break, febrile, a dew on your back as it arches, you screaming to the ceiling as you are thrown into the stars and the earth at the same time, torn in a hundred directions by the intense pulse radiating out from your core and fanning across your whole body, every muscle tensing and releasing in a sudden wave.

Hazily, you hear his jubilant praises ringing in your ears, but it feels far away even as his hands and mouth are hot and heavy on your skin, ripping the corset and knickers from your body with a vehemence that would shock you were you in less of a euphoric, altered state. He pulled you bodily to the edge of the sofa, teasing his cock against your throbbing clit, making you groan and paw at him, the need rising again as you return to your surroundings.

“You have bewitched me body and soul,” he pants as he slides into your body, a surging insistence that has your fingernail curling into the sinew on his forearms, your toes curling around the fuzzy meat of his thighs. “I never wish to be parted from you for a second. I love you..,” his tone rough, broken, stuttering as he bottoms out inside you, quoting the film you watched together the other night before taking you urgently towards another blissful peak.

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[melrodrigo]

music nerds

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna stumbles upon a tiny vinyl shop, and thinks the employee is mighty cute.

A/n: here it is nerds, my first jenna fic. Was in a silly goofy mood, I miss my babygirl so.

It started at the vinyl shop. You, rearranging the different records into the correct sections, stood humming absentmindedly to the tune of the song playing.

“How’s my favorite employee of the month doing?” Your coworker (and best friend) Harry pipes up, leaning on the shelves opposite you.

“You can stop calling me that, we both know the only reason I got crowned this month was because you missed six days and I had to cover for your ass.” You mumble, slightly annoyed. It had been a long day, with customers shuffling in and out without ever buying anything. It didn’t help that the only customers Harry attended to were girls he thought were cute.

He nudges you a little, trying to prompt you away from rearranging the vinyls.

When you don’t answer, he huffs a little and then makes his way to the back—no doubt about to take a nap—where he’ll stay until closing time.

You sigh softly, shaking your head.

Even though you loved Harry to shreds, you hated being his coworker. He could be trusted with nothing.

You move over to the next section, swaying a little to the tune, losing yourself in the music.

You’re aware of the jingle of the bell that indicates someone has entered as you shuffle through the records.

They could take care of themselves for just a few minutes, you reckon.

Soft footsteps sound from behind you, and the sound of someone putting a stop to the music makes you frown. Then, there’s a tiny scratching noise before the melody of I am Controlled By Your Love by Helene Smith sounds through the tiny store.

You can’t help the tiny smile that envelops your face; and the surprise that echos through your mind. You’d just found out about this song, while scrolling through a playlist someone had made for your celebrity crush, Jenna Ortega.

Apparently she liked the song, if you remembered correctly from watching one of her interviews passingly.

“Great choice.” You tell whoever put it on, still not turning to face them.

“Thanks, I’m surprised this place has it. I’ve been looking for weeks.” A girl answers, and it sounds vaguely familiar.

“Well, we sure do. One of the best vinyl stores in the country if I do say so myself.” You smile, finally finishing tampering with the discs and turn to your customer.

It takes everything in you to not gasp out loud—standing in front of you was the Jenna Ortega.

You feel your hands grip the shelves just a little tighter, and you prayed to god that Jenna didn’t see the blush very quickly climbing up your neck.

“One of the best, huh?” She smiles, and you swear you could feel your heart physically melt.

She looks, if not better, exactly like in the pictures. It’s surreal, this person you see almost everyday on your phone, standing in front of you.

She’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater and some baggy jeans. There are sunglasses blocking her eyes, maybe to try to avert attention, but you could tell in an instant who she was.

You think she knows too, by the way she’s smirking a little.

“Yeah, and there are a ton of artists just like the one you just put on, at the back corner over there.” You point with shaky fingers, cursing yourself for looking so stupid.

She nods and disappears further into the store, and you breathe out in relief.

Holy shit! Jenna Ortega!

You place a hand over your heart, reminding yourself to be normal and check if you’re still breathing.

“Uh-I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. Where did you say?” She pops her head out from one of the shelves, cocking her head to the side.

You grab your bearings, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

You were an employee. Just an employee helping out a confused customer.

“It’s hard to find, believe me I know.” You smile reassuringly, sauntering over to where she was standing.

“Here, just follow me.” You say, weaving through the maze that was this tiny vinyl store.

She bumps into you a few times, saying a soft sorry as she does. You placate her worries with soft it’s okays everytime she does.

“Ahah! Right here. My pride and joy.” You beam, getting used to having her so close and relaxing.

“What would you recommend?” She muses, flicking through the artists.

“Well, I’m a Beatles girl myself,” You tell her, looking over the records, “but I am a sucker for The Mamas & The Papas.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, and you hold your hands up in defeat.

“I know, I know! I’m a mainstream whore.” You say before you can stop yourself, something definitely inappropriate to say to a customer.

Jenna lets out a little giggle, fast like she can’t help herself.

You take the opportunity to keep talking, since she seems interested in the music over here.

“But, there is another artist somewhere here, I think you’ll like.” You wink, then mentally face palm yourself.

You turn back to the records in order to hide your expression, finally finding the guy you were looking for.

“Frank Zappa.” You explain as you hand it over to her. “An instrumental.”

She looks at it thoughtfully, inspecting the album art; then looks up at you and smiles. Her brown eyes make you want to cry and scream, but you keep your composure.

“You have nice eyes.” She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. Then, just as fast, she turns away and walks back the way you came.

“What just happened.” You breathe once she’s out of earshot, carefully walking back to the cashier.

She’s waiting, texting someone on her phone.

When you slide up behind the counter, all flirty smiles, she tilts her head.

“Took you long enough.” She teases, scrunching her nose in embarrassment unconsciously.

You stutter endlessly, trying and failing to come up with an excuse. It all comes out in one jumbled poor excuse of a sentence that you try to cover up with a cough.

You slide her things over and scan them, not daring to look at her probably smug face.

“That’s all.” You say, somewhat bashfully, stealing a glance back at her.

Her eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, but something you can certainly feel. Warmth envelops you whole, your knees turning into jelly.

You put her stuff into a plastic bag, hand them over, and bite back the hitch of breath when your hand grazes hers.

She bites her lip thoughtfully, shifting on her feet. The bag is in her hands now, she’s free to leave.

But still, she stands there, looking like she’s thinking very hard about something.

You try and prompt her out of her thoughts, murmur a quiet, “Anything else?” and watches as she takes out her phone and pushes it to your side of the desk.

“Yeah. Your number.” She squeaks, blushing a faint pink. She clears her throat and says it again, in a tone deeper than before.

It takes absolutely everything in you to keep your mouth shut. It desperately desperately wants to drop, not quite computing what is really happening.

You take it before she can change her mind, quickly jamming in your number and taking a quick photo for the profile.

She beams as you hand it back to her, not bothering to stop the cheeky satisfied smile that wants to take over her lips.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She asks, and you nod adamantly, forgetting all pretense of chill.

“Right. Uh huh. Super!” You call out as she makes her way out the door, shaking her head at your dorkiness.

“Holy shit!” You yell this time, breathing out a huge sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding.

You’re rooted to the spot, afraid that if you move you’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.

“Wha-What happened?” Harry comes tumbling out the back door, plastic baseball bat in hand.

You lock eyes with him and let yourself fall down into the nearest chair, all wild eyes.

“I just got Jenna Ortega’s number!” You tell him, letting your hands run through your hair, happy and stressed.

His eyes narrow, then he shoots you a lopsided smirk.

“Sure you did.” He says, letting the baseball bat fall beside him, guard down.

“No Harry, she really came in here! And asked me for my number!” You yell, exasperated.

You can tell he doesn’t really believe you, but all it takes is one good look at your face, all white and red at the same time, and he’s widening his eyes comically wide.

“No fucking way.” He gushes, sliding over to sit beside you. He practically preens over you, all questioning eyes.

“Well what did you do?” He pushes, waiting for you to elaborate.

You tell him the whole story, slightly reveling in his reactions. He never fails to make you laugh at his comments.

“So…what now?” Harry asks after a minute, raising his eyebrows.

You sigh. “I don’t know, I guess I’m gonna have to wait for her to call me. Who knows how long that’s gonna take.”

“Well, you better be ready for her when she does. Oh my god we so need to do a makeover.” He rambles, turning on his phone to look at hairdressers nearby. You lean back into your chair, overwhelmed.

For now, you’re worry-less. Jenna Ortega just asked for your number, and you think you couldn’t be luckier. The only thing to do now was wait, and so you do.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter Warnings: reader vs IKEA furniture, 1k words about Yoongi's hands, second-hand embarrassment, more cracktastic internal monologues, a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 7k (approx. 30 mins to read)

Posting date: October 19, 2024

Notes: Very Yoongi-coded of me to work through my sickness. So, yes, behold an update, while I am in the throes of flu. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Masterlist

Sometimes, the mediocrity in this office is just unbelievable. You’ve put in a request for a filing cabinet so that you can organize the copious amount of paperwork that’s been accumulating in your little space that has overtaken yours and Yoongi’s desks. That was two months ago. It finally arrives today, still in its flat box packaging.

Great.

You’ve been staring at the pieces of the Ikea furniture for what feels like an hour, trying to make sense of the instructions. Of course, they’re all diagrams and singular letters and numbers—just a bunch of arrows pointing to nuts and bolts that apparently hold this whole thing together.

Btw, where the heck is Yoongi?! He’s usually pretty punctual. Pretty and punctual. Hmm. Anyway…

Just as you’re about to abandon your unwanted task to write a strongly worded email to the procurement department, Yoongi strolls in your office, oblivious to the war inside your mind.

“You’re late,” you blurt.

Caught off guard, and wholly unused to your raging bitch tendencies, Yoongi looks like a deer caught in headlights, mumbling, “Sorry, I uh I just got this scooter and am still—”

Is he pouting? OH god…

“No, no…” you backtrack, not meaning to sound haughty at all. “You’re fine. I don’t really—sorry, I’m just in a mood.”

Yoongi nods, assessing the pile of rubble you are on, as he sets his helmet and bag on the desk. He takes a spot on the floor next to you, leans over to squint at the same set of instructions, and decides, “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a random board. “Yeah, says the guy who hasn’t tried yet.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi pulls the screwdriver from your hand and the nearest piece of wood, starting to line everything up. You expect him to struggle, because he’s an idol–LOL–he can’t be that good at this, maybe marginally better than you, but nothing to write home about.

Boy, you are so, so, spectacularly wrong. Chae would be laughing at you later that night as you recount this gross misjudgment on your part and would proceed to send you the link to Run BTS episode 148 and as you watch it in your bed with a sheet mask on you’d be like the fuck is wainscoting??

But for now, you are decidedly a non-believer, even as Yoongi moves through the steps with surprising ease, piecing it together like he’s done this a million times before.

“Hold this,” he says, passing you one of the boards to brace while he screws in the side panels. His fingers brush yours as he adjusts the position, and it’s then that you notice his hands.

Well, you’ve noticed his hands before, but this time it’s different. You watch as his long fingers grip the screwdriver, veins running along the back of his hand, disappearing beneath his shirt sleeve, flexing with every twist. It’s oddly mesmerizing—beautiful, if you’re honest with yourself. They look perfectly balanced between grace and ruggedness, bone structure firm, but the skin warm and soft.

God, those hands… Your mind flashes to places it shouldn’t, and you quickly look away. You clear your throat, as you wrestle with thoughts of those hands wrapping tenderly around your throat. 

Holy shit.

He’s completely focused on aligning the screws, while you’re completely unfocused thinking about how you’d very much like for y’all to screw.

Wow. You are a fuckin’ pervert. And so shit at double entendres.

As he continues to work, you can’t help but observe his fingers as they move with precision. Long, lithe, bony in all the right places. Delicate, yet also powerful. And then there are those lovely veins—they pulse slightly with each motion, as his fingers curl effortlessly around the tool like it’s second nature. 

It’s way too easy to imagine those hands doing something else entirely. Something that has nothing to do with Ikea furniture. Everything to do with you. Naked, ideally. Now, preferably.

OK Stop. Stop right now.

With a shaky exhale, you force yourself to focus on holding the cabinet in place, but the mental image is seared into your brain now. There’s something unfair about how attractive Yoongi’s hands are—how much control they have, how easily they move, how they make your brain go berserk.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you haven’t said anything for a minute.

He blinks blankly at you and doesn’t say more, just passes to you a handful of screws. You take them from him, swallowing the lewd thoughts racing through your mind.

As he finishes screwing the rest of the pieces together, his thumb grazes along the edge of the board, and your eyes trail after it like you’re hypnotized. You bite your lip, trying to focus on anything else. Anything but how good his hands look. Did you seriously just discover a fetish right now?

He shifts closer to tighten something, and you’re hit with the warmth of his body, plus the faint scent of his soap. Your heartbeat picks up, but you stay silent, pretending this is all fine, like you’re not on the verge of asking him to stop and just drag you to the back office closet to fuck.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at the sheer self control you are exercising at the moment. You need him to hurry the fuck up, because there’s already an uncomfortable wetness in your underwear and you need to deal with it stat. 

He inspects one of the wood pieces and knocks on it as if to test its strength and you study his knuckles, slightly prominent dappled with subtle brownish-pinkish marks perhaps from boxing.

Honestly, that’s so hot.

Yoongi finishes tightening one side and sits back, leaning on his hands, fingers splayed out on the floor. You glance down, and oof there they are again—those damn hands, long and elegant, resting on the floor like they’re mocking you. You wonder, just briefly, what it would feel like if those palms were pressed up against you, instead of the floor. Will those hands be gentle, rough, will he be the type to leave marks…

You’re staring. Definitely staring.

Yoongi clears his throat softly, and you snap your eyes up to his face. He’s watching you now, head tilted slightly, lips pressed into a line that looks suspiciously like he’s holding back a smile. There’s a knowing glint there—of course he’s caught you, but he’s not going to call you out for it.

“Want to hand me that last piece?” he asks, voice calm but with that little hint of amusement in it. He motions toward the final panel lying next to you, hand outstretched.

You quickly pass it to him, avoiding his gaze completely. His fingers brush yours when he takes it, slow, deliberate. 

Oh shit, he definitely knows.

He lines up the final piece of the cabinet and starts screwing it in, but there’s a shift in the air now. You force yourself to focus on what’s in front of you—on the fact that you’re literally just building a cabinet and not having an existential crisis over someone’s hands. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but he’s focused on the task again, his lips slightly parted as he concentrates. You catch yourself staring at his lips now and quickly look away before he can notice that, too.

Finally, he finishes tightening the last screw, sitting back to admire the completed cabinet. “There. Not so bad, right?”

You breathe out a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my ass with this.”

Yoongi shrugs, wiping his hands on his slacks. “It was easy enough. I think you were just overthinking it.”

You roll your eyes, feeling more at ease now that the project’s done. “Well, maybe if I had hands like yours, I wouldn’t have struggled.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and your face ignites.

Fuckkkk stupid fuckk dumbass bitchhh

He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then looks at his hands, flexing his fingers like he’s just realizing what you’ve said. He’s silent for a second, and then, “My hands?” There’s that barely-there smirk on his face, subtle but unmistakable.

You scramble to recover. “You know what I mean,” you mumble, grabbing a stray screw off the floor, wishing it would just swallow you whole.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push it further. Just chuckles softly, leaning back against the wall, his gaze flicking to you for a beat longer. “You’re welcome,” he says simply.

He stretches his fingers one last time before stuffing them in his pockets. “They’re at your service, whenever you need them.”

Cheeky bastard.

“Yes, mom, I won’t be late,” you tell Chae as you tug your high-waisted leggings into place, your phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder.

“Ok. See ya!” 

Finally you smooth the fabric of your sports bra in the office bathroom mirror, turning slightly to check your reflection. The purple set hugs your body in all the right places, accentuating your curves and giving you that boost of confidence you hadn’t realized you needed. You’re not perfect by any stretch, but something about this fit makes you stand a little taller, feel a little bolder.

It’s after-hours, and the office is mostly deserted. You’d told yourself it’d be fine to walk back to your desk dressed like this—barely anyone’s around to notice. Yoongi left minutes ago, or at least you think he did. He never really stays after 5:30 p.m. except that one night he returned “for his ear buds” and even then he actually went home and just came back to get drunk with you, apparently.

As you step into the hallway, your dunks squeak faintly on the floor, echoing in the quiet. You glance around, feeling pretty damn good as you make your way back to your desk to grab your stuff before heading to Chae’s Pilates class.

But as soon as you open the door to your office, you freeze.

Yoongi is still there.

Standing by his desk, packing up, his head snaps up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes lock onto you, and for a second—just a second—they widen, raking over you in a way that’s anything but office-appropriate. His gaze drifts from your legs, up to your waist, lingering at the curve of your hips, then up to your chest, where the sports bra does more work than it has any right to.

You see the exact moment he tries to recover. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he quickly looks away, busying himself with stuffing papers into his bag like they’ve suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

Oh. Oh.

The corner of your mouth twitches. It’s almost funny, really—after all the teasing and the subtle suggestions, Yoongi finally looks like he’s the one caught off guard. Finally. You saunter further into the office, a booty-tooch here and there, pretending like nothing’s out of the ordinary, but inside, you’re fully aware of the power shift that just happened.

“Didn’t think you were still here,” you say casually, grabbing your water bottle from your desk. You make a show of bending just slightly, and when you look up, you don’t miss the way Yoongi’s stare flickers toward your cleavage before he quickly averts his gaze. His ears are a little red. Gotcha.

“I thought you’d left already.” He clears his throat. “You uh you got a class?”

“Mhmm…” You hum sweetly, tossing the bottle into your bag. “Pilates. My best friend convinced me to go. Free trial and all.”

Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite making full eye contact, like he’s trying really hard not to look directly at you again. The sadistic part of you wants to make it worse, just for shits—after all, didn’t you deserve a little revenge after the way he had you silently losing your mind over his hands the other day?

“So… what do you think?” You tilt your head, as if the answer to that question isn’t already written in big, bold letters all over his face.

Yoongi finally looks at you then, before darting back to his bag, his fingers a little too purposeful as they zip the bag shut. “About Pilates?”

“No,” you say, smirking. “About the outfit.”

It takes him a second to process that, and when he does, you swear you see his jaw tighten. He presses his lips together, trying to keep his cool.

“It’s… nice,” he says, the understatement of the year, and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to say more. 

“Huh.” You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip, the motion drawing his eyes back to you at the sliver of skin that just revealed itself. “Just nice?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time in the months you’ve known him, he looks rattled. Not by much, but enough to notice. You wait, feeling a surge of satisfaction, enjoying this just a tad too much.

He catches your gaze again, this time holding it for longer. His tongue drags across his bottom lip, the gesture slow, and finally, finally, he leans back against the desk, arms crossing as he gives you an appraising look. The faintest smirk pulls at his mouth, but it’s restrained, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. You are still in office premises after all, not in some club in Garosu-gil.

“You’re trouble,” he says softly, and the word hangs in the air between you. The same word you’ve used for him more than once—now, turned on you. “You know that, right?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a grin. It feels like a straight-up W, having him flustered, even for a moment. “Yeah?”

He lets out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah.” His eyes drop to your legs again, another once-over. When they return to yours, they’re darker, more intent. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before replying, “Definitely trouble.”

You pretend to mull it over, playing with the front zipper of your sports bra. “I mean, you’re the one staring,” you tease, fully aware of what you’re doing now.

Yoongi’s grin returns, a little sharper this time. “And you’re the one who walked in here looking like that.” His voice rasps just slightly on the last words, and it’s enough to send tingles down your spine.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you jest, this time repeating one of his lines from the other night. He shakes his head again at you, clearly remembering it, too.

“Well,” you say, voice deliberately airy, “I should get going. Don’t want to be late for class.”

Yoongi nods, and his eyes follow you as you move toward the door. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little smug in the way he’s gawking at you. Man like him is used to being surrounded by gorgeous women, being in an industry that demands being perfect, and yet he seemed enamored by a perfectly imperfect you. How you like that?

Wow he’s still watching. Well if he wants this as spank bank material tonight, then by all means, you consent for him to stare. 

“Have fun at Pilates,” he says, his tone a little too even.

You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a triumphant grin. “See you later, Yoongi.”

You have to admit, work has been pretty inspiring since you and Yoongi started hinting at your attraction to each other. Coffee breaks now feel like mini dates. Over steaming cups of latte (americano for him) that now tastes a little less shitty, your knuckles brush sometimes—just a quick touch, but neither of you pulls away. And even though it’s brief, it’s starting to mean everything. 

It’s becoming more obvious: you’re both opening up, letting each other in, swapping stories that are equal parts random and revealing. He tells you about the black cat he ‘borrows’ from a friend when he feels lonely. You tell him about your complicated relationship with your dad, how it’s still a work in progress. Each conversation feels like another layer peeled back, another step toward something deeper. Hopefully.

But then, of course, your inner saboteur decides to join the party. You start wondering what this really is for him. A way to pass the time, maybe, cause he’s just bored in the house. You know the kind of life Yoongi’s used to, but since he’s forced to step away, and here you are... just there, conveniently available. A little distraction. Maybe that’s all this is. You think about how easily he could pick you up like a little plaything and tickle you whenever he likes. Cos, damn, you know he knows that you are very much tickled.

He hasn’t asked for your number. And honestly? You don’t think you have the guts to ask for his. But it’s not even just about guts–you think you’re a plenty empowered woman. There’s the NDA—a whole ass contract hanging over your head, making sure you won’t cross. You’re stuck, confined to these small, controlled moments within the four walls of work.

And that’s what gnaws at you the most: you don’t know if this could ever become something real outside of this space. Your lives, your worlds—they’re just too different. 

Your Saturday looks a little different today. Tonight, you find yourself in Chae’s place of work. You’re wearing a pretty little dress, paired with cute heels that make you feel amazing, even if they pinch a little. Your hair is softly curled at the ends, one delicate pin securing it behind your ear on one side, leaving the rest to fall naturally. It’s simple but enough to make you feel put together, like you belong here, even if this whole scene is a bit fancier than your usual.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the air as you settle in at the bar, a glass of sparkling wine in hand. The lighting is low, giving the restaurant an intimate, almost cozy feel despite its sleek, upscale design. Dark wood tables, candles flickering on every surface, and the kind of velvet seating that makes you want to sink right in. It’s posh, but not stuffy—like the kind of place where you can have a real conversation without having to shout.

You take a slow sip of your drink, eyes drifting around the room. The bar is polished marble, gleaming under the soft pendant lights that hang overhead, casting a gentle glow on everything. The vibe is understated but undeniably chic, with just enough buzz in the air to remind you that this is a special night. 

You imagine Chae in the kitchen, totally in her element, probably yelling at someone to get the garnish right while she’s knee-deep in prepping plates. Too busy to talk, but that’s fine. You didn’t mind. You’re here for the food, the drinks, and to support her.

A guy, about your age, slides onto the barstool next to you. “Hey. You here for the friends and family thing, too?” he asks casually, although it’s obvious since it is a private event after all. You know he’s just trying to make conversation.

You smile politely, nodding. “Yeah, my best friend works here. You?”

“Cousin of one of the line chefs,” he replies. “No idea who most of these people are, but free food, right?”

You chuckle. He seems harmless enough—just someone to pass the time with while you wait for the meal to start. The conversation flows easily, touching on casual topics. Nothing too deep, but enough to make you feel at ease in the unfamiliar crowd.

Then, out of nowhere, a ripple passes through the room. You notice heads turning, subtle whispers growing louder as two men were ushered to a VIP section at the far end of the restaurant. You exchange a glance with the guy–Jungwon, curiosity piqued.

“Who’s that?” Jungwon asks, craning his neck slightly. “Some kind of celebrity?”

You squint in their direction, but couldn’t quite make them out. “No idea, but they must be, with that kind of posse.”

Just then, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, seeing a message come through.

Chae: fuck ur bf and my bf are here!!! Omgggg 

Your eyebrows shot up. You quickly type back:

You: Wtf are you talking abtt?!

But before you can get a response, you are ushered into the main dining area with the rest of the guests. The low lighting and beautifully set tables were designed for an intimate evening, and you found yourself seated at a small two-person table with Jungwon due to limited seating.

As you settle in, your vision drift towards the VIP section again, this time landing directly on someone you didn’t expect to see. Min Yoongi was sitting there with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh. Well, that explains the murmurs. The sudden shift in atmosphere. And Chae’s message.

You weren’t expecting this—him. Not here. Not tonight.

You tell yourself to look away, play it cool, but your eyes keep darting back, betraying you. Yoongi hasn’t seen you yet—thank God—but it’s only a matter of time. 

You’re hit with a wave of something—excitement? Nerves? Probably both. This was supposed to be a low-key night, a chance to support Chae and enjoy some free food and drinks. Instead, it feels like the stakes just shot up, like you’re tightroping between wanting to be invisible and being seen.

You take a steadying breath, flicking back to him one last time. He’s still talking with Jungkook, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the fact that your world just tilted slightly off its axis. 

Suddenly, Yoongi’s head turns, almost like he can feel your frantic energy. He sweeps the room, pausing when they find you. And for a split second, there’s something there—recognition, a softness in his expression, the kind of look that makes your heart stutter. His lips lift at the corners, like he’s about to smile, and for that brief moment, you let yourself believe in it.

But then, just as quickly, his gaze shifts. His expression cools, like a door closing in slow motion. The familiarity drains, replaced by something distant. Detached. He nods at you—polite, formal, like he’s acknowledging a colleague at a meeting. Nothing more. Before looking away.

Wow. That’s cold.

That tiny, hopeful flicker you’d felt just a moment ago? Gone. You weren’t expecting some grand gesture, but this? This feels like... nothing. Just a nod. Just formality. 

You shift in your seat, fingers tightening around the stem of your wine glass, feeling like shit.

Of course. Of course it’s like this. Why wouldn’t it be? Here you are, your first taste of seeing him outside your office bubble and your inner saboteur was right.

It’s disappointing, but not surprising. This was always confined to the office, wasn’t it? That’s where it was convenient. But out in the world, with people around and the difference of your class apparent? Just look–he’s in the VIP section and you’re… not. It’s different. He’s different. And maybe you are too, suddenly unsure of where you stand with him.

Was he annoyed? Uncomfortable that you’re here? You replay the moment in your head, trying to decipher the brief look on his face before it shifted. You’ve always had a tendency to overthink things, but still... that coolness in his gaze lingers in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.

You glance away, pretending to focus on the glass in your hand, but the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You don’t want to feel disappointed, but you do. And it’s hitting you harder than it should, because maybe, deep down, you wanted more.

But this is your first glimpse of what happens in the real world. And right now, it feels like you’re just two strangers in a crowded room.

The first course arrives, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you try to refocus, letting the taste of the food ground you for a while. You chat lightly with Jungwon, making small talk about the meal, the restaurant, anything that keeps your mind occupied. Every now and then, though, your thoughts drift back to Yoongi, to that cool, distant nod, and the wound in your heart expands. You try to shake it off, tell yourself it’s nothing, but fuck—it stings.

Your phone buzzes again with a message from Chae. You excuse yourself from Jungwon and pull your phone out.

Chae: If u don’t intro me to Min Yoongi, friendship over!!!!!!! Also jk but ik you havent met him yet. Omg im guna freakkk

You sigh. Of course. Chae doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the awkward distance that’s already wedged itself between you and Yoongi tonight. And you definitely don’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. This is her night—a huge one for her culinary career. The last thing you want to do is drag your personal worries into it.

You type up a simple reply.

You: On it. Stand by. And pls act normal

Fuckkk how are you going to do this? You excuse yourself to the powder room. Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you adjust your lipstick and clean up the edges with the pad of your ring finger.

Yoongi’s a good person, you remind yourself, your mind running through every little moment you’ve shared with him at the office. He won’t embarrass you in public. That’s not who he is. But still, there’s that nagging doubt in the back of your mind—the one that’s been whispering ever since you saw his face earlier, the way his warmth slipped into something more distant.

And if he does embarrass you? Well... maybe that’s your answer. Maybe tonight is the night you get the clarity you’ve been secretly waiting for. 

You come back to Jungwon wiping his mouth with the table napkin, chewing the last bits of his mains. Before you can even politely excuse yourself, he gulps his drink in one go, “Hey, I think I'm actually gonna bounce.”

So that’s that. You text Chae and make your way toward Yoongi’s table, heartbeat picking up speed.

Chae: I’m goin in. Get your ass ready. 

As you approach, Beefy—the bodyguard you recognize from past run-ins inside the office—gives you a friendly nod and lets you through without hesitation. You give him a grateful smile before turning your attention to Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook is mid-conversation, laughing at something Yoongi has said, but as soon as you appear, their heads turn toward you.

You give a small wave and a smile. “Hey.”

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours for a split second, and he gives you a smile that reminds you of that day you first met. Forced. Awkward. Tight-lipped.

Fuck. You’re starting to feel like such an idiot. Maybe this was a mistake—maybe he really doesn’t want to associate with you outside of work. You should’ve read the room. 

But before your thoughts can spiral any further, Jungkook thankfully steps in. “I’m Jungkook, and you are?”

You give him your name, a small, polite bow. You’re about to explain who you are, but before you can, Jungkook’s face light up with recognition.

“Ohhh, wait,” he says pointing a finger at you, a grin spreading across his face, “You’re Yoongi-hyung’s boss.”

You freeze. Boss? His grin widens, and suddenly, there’s a teasing glint in his eyes as he flicks his gaze between you and Yoongi like he’s just connected some dots.

Yoongi shoots him a look, something caught between exasperation and warning. It’s like you can hear the silent “Don’t.” Jungkook ignores it, his smile only growing, and so is your confusion.

“That would be me,” you say, trying to hold onto your composure, giving Jungkook a nod while feeling completely out of the loop.

“Hyung, why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?” Jungkook’s tone is light, but there’s an unspoken challenge beneath it, like he’s teasing Yoongi in a way that only someone who knows him well could. The silent back-and-forth between them is hard to miss, and it leaves you feeling both confused and embarrassed. There’s clearly something you’re not getting.

Yoongi just shrugs, his voice more detached than you’d like. “I had no idea.”

You furrow your brows, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Jungkook gives Yoongi a curious look, as if they’re having an entire conversation through telepathy. You, meanwhile, are just standing there, completely out of place and unsure whether you should laugh or back away slowly.

And Yoongi hasn’t even addressed you directly in the midst of all this. God, you’re so embarrassed.

At this point, you figure it’s time to bail. You gave it a shot, and it feels like Yoongi doesn’t even want you here. Sorry, Chae. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you Jungkook, but I should just—” You jerk your thumb over your shoulder, already planning your exit.

“No, no!” Jungkook interrupts quickly, grinning like he’s enjoying this way too much. “If you’re here, you should definitely join us,” he says, gesturing to the empty spot next to Yoongi. “There’s more than enough room.”

You hesitate, but before you can even respond, Yoongi speaks up, his tone calm but there’s something else beneath it—something strained. “She’s with someone already.”

You blink. Someone?

Ah. Now it makes sense.

You glance at Yoongi, the pieces falling into place. He thinks you’re here with someone, like on a date. Is it really why he’s been acting distant? Hmm. It’s almost funny now, if it wasn’t so painfully awkward.

You clear your throat. “Actually, I just met Jungwon here. I came alone.” You explain it to Jungkook, but really, the person who needs to hear it is Yoongi. “And he already left, so I’d be down to join if it’s cool with you….” 

Jungkook’s grin is immediate, and he pats the seat next to Yoongi like it’s been waiting for you all along. “Of course! Sit with us.”

You hesitate for a second longer, glancing at Yoongi to see how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—softens—and before you know it, he’s pulling the chair out for you, at the same time Jungkook gets a call.

“Be right back,” Jungkook says and disappears into the hall towards the back of the restaurant.

You settle into the chair beside Yoongi, feeling this strange tension. You glance at him, but Yoongi avoids you, eyes fixed on the table.

But then, just barely, you notice it—the faintest tug at the corner of his lips. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s smiling, the kind of smile that betrays him. The kind that says, Yeah, you caught me. And it confirms what you guessed was happening: he was actually kinda jealous. Which is ridiculous, because why would he feel that?!

He breathes out a soft fuck, before he runs a hand across his scalp. It’s almost funny now and you can’t help but shake your head at him, a small pout playing on your lips. You hear a “sorry” in the deepest register you’ve heard for his voice.

Neither of you says a word after that, but the moment speaks for itself. There’s a quiet agreement to let it go. 

“So…” you start.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

You blink, a little surprised, but grateful for the gesture. “Just a glass of white, please.”

He nods, finally looking at you for a second before signaling the waiter. His voice is calm, easy, as he orders for you. He orders a whiskey neat.

As the waiter walks away, Yoongi leans back, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. He doesn’t say much, but the small smile that lingers on his lips tells you enough. He knows he got caught acting a fool. And he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

And honestly, you don’t know what to feel about it, either. It’s… madness, really.

When your drink arrives, the clouds seem to part. You extend your flute towards him, and he clinks it with his lowball and you both take a sip, peering at each other through your own glasses.

Jungkook sits back down at the table, and the conversation picks up almost immediately. Jungkook leans forward, flashing a bright smile. “So, what’s it like working with him?” He jerks his head in Yoongi’s direction, boba-like orbs twinkling mischievously.

Yoongi sighs, leaning back in his chair, his usual calm demeanor settling in. “Stop,” he mutters under his breath, already sensing where this is going.

You laugh softly. “He’s not so bad. Actually, he’s really helpful.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “Helpful? Yoongi-hyung? Are we talking about the same guy?” He’s clearly enjoying himself, teasing while keeping the mood light.

Yoongi shoots him a look, shaking his head. “I’m right here.”

But Jungkook grins, ignoring Yoongi’s protest. “Nah, you sure he isn’t sleeping on the job?”

You chuckle, nodding. “Well, he does use his lunches for sleeping more than eating.”

Yoongi groans. “Great. Love this conversation.”

“I knew it,” Jungkook laughs, before drinking the rest of his drink like a shot.

You can’t help but snicker, but there’s something in you that feels a little protective of Yoongi. “To be fair, he is helpful. You should see him in the office. Always stepping in when I need something fixed.”

Yoongi’s lips twitch, fighting back a small smile. “See? Helpful.”

Jungkook just raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, look at you, hyung. Gunning for Employee of the Month.”

“It’s literally just him in my department. He already wins by default.” you bump Yoongi with your shoulders to coax a tiny smile from him, and you’re successful.

Conversations flow naturally after that, going towards the meal you just had (which Chae would be happy to know got rave reviews) onto other things.

“So, where are you from?” Jungkook asks.

“Busan,” you say with a grin, catching the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“No way!” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together. “I’m from Busan, too!” He leans in, his enthusiasm infectious. “Do you know that bungeoppang stall at Gukje Market?”

You blink in surprise. “The one with the darling ahjumma with the big hair and red lipstick? I used to go there after school.”

“Oh shit, really?” Jungkook lets out a laugh. “I still dream about that mmm...”

“The ahjumma?” Yoongi asks, straight-faced and full of shit.

Jungkook’s expression sours and you giggle.

“You’re just jealous you’re missing out, hyung,” Jungkook says, turning to Yoongi with a teasing grin. “Busan people know what’s up.”

Yoongi doesn't say anything, just looks at both of you with amusement as you share a high five.

Before Jungkook can continue, Chae finally approaches the table, in her crisp chef’s uniform and a bright smile on her face. 

You introduce her quickly, and she immediately fits in, shaking hands with both of them. You admire the composure, really, considering she is meeting her favorite people.

But what she says next surprises you, when she stops being “loyal ARMY” and starts being “protective best friend.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Chae says to Yoongi, her tone light, but knowing.

Yoongi looks momentarily caught off guard, but before he can say anything, Jungkook jumps in, grinning wide. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve heard a lot about her too,” he says, nodding toward you.

Huh?!

You feel your face heat up, and Yoongi glances at you, clearly not expecting the conversation to turn on him like that. “Wonder why you two talk about each other so much,” Jungkook muses, tapping his chin dramatically.

You and Yoongi exchange a look, both of you feeling the awkwardness creep in. You try to laugh it off, but it’s clear both of you are embarrassed.

Chae, despite starting this whole ripple, decides to shift gears to give you a reprieve, “Anyway, I hear you’re part-timing in the military kitchen, Jungkook. I’ve been dying to know what you think of our food, as a fellow professional.”

Jungkook beams, clearly thrilled to be praised for his culinary pursuits. “Oh, it’s fuckin’ phenomenal. Though—that,” he points at one of the dishes on the table, “that’s way better than anything I’ve had lately.”

Chae’s face lights up. “Ah, that makes me so happy. That’s one of my original recipes. What did you like about it?”

As the two of them dive into an enthusiastic conversation about food, you feel a shift under the table. At first, you think it’s nothing—a stray napkin, maybe. But then it happens again, more deliberate this time. You glance down, and—oh shit, that’s Yoongi’s hand.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart doing a little flip. You glance at Yoongi, but he’s still keeping his attention on the conversation between Chae and Jungkook. Still, there’s something there—something softer—that he doesn’t quite hide.

He’s slow, careful, like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away. You freeze for a second, your pulse kicking up. His fingers brush yours lightly before he gently takes your hand in his, slipping it under the cloth of the table like it’s a secret just between the two of you.

Your heart soars. He’s talking to Chae, pretending everything is normal, but this? This is definitely not nothing. You glance at him, but he’s looking ahead, calm and composed as always, matching the tenderness in the way his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

You squeeze his hand back. It feels like the confirmation you’ve both been waiting for, even though neither of you says anything. 

As the night winds down, the crowd starts thinning out. You wait near the entrance for Chae to finish up, scrolling absently on your phone. You’d figured Yoongi left through the back at some point after he and Jungkook were requested to tour the kitchens. But then you glance up and there he is walking towards you.

He stands close, gaze steady on you, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’ll drive you home,” he says, his voice low, like it’s not even a question.

You’re caught a little off guard. “You don’t have to—Chae and I were just—”

“I’ll drive you home,” he repeats, softer this time but just as firm. There’s something in the way he says it that makes it hard to argue. It’s not just the offer—it’s the way he’s looking at you, like he’s already decided.

And because God knows you’re so weak for this man, it’s almost pathetic how you just nod wordlessly.

Chae appears, barely catching the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes dart between you and Yoongi, and then—because of course she can’t resist—her jaw drops dramatically. 

She pulls her phone out, putting on the most ridiculous performance. “Yeah? I’ll come over!” She pretends to talk to someone, then covers the phone mic, turning to you. “I won’t be home. Don’t wait up. You have the whole apartment to yourself, all night.”

You shoot her a look, and she gives you a wink before making herself scarce. You groan inwardly. Way to be subtle, Chae. Really nailed it.

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He motions to the car waiting outside. “Come on,” he says, and just like that, you’re following him out into the cool night air.

The car pulls up, sleek and black, with a driver already waiting inside. Yoongi opens the door for you, and you slide in, nerves buzzing in your chest. He slips in beside you, the driver closing the door for him.

The city lights blur past as the car moves through the streets, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, just watching the world pass by. But then, you feel it—his hand, creeping over the seat like it’s found a familiar place, slowly sliding over yours.

Your breath hitches as his fingers intertwined with yours again, his touch warm and steady. There’s no hesitation this time. His grip is a little firmer, more certain.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, but the way he says it sends a shiver through you.

You hesitate, more out of nerves than anything. “It’s ok,” you mutter, half-playful, half-nervous. “I’m fine here.”

Yoongi lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and amused. He doesn’t push it, but his thumb strokes over your hand again, like he’s perfectly content with the small bit of contact for now. Still, you feel the tension simmering between you—the quiet pull you’ve been dancing around for weeks, maybe months.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur, your thoughts spinning. When the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. You know what comes next. You’re psyching yourself up to make the move, but Yoongi’s voice echoes in the stillness inside the car.

“Good night,” he says, watching you with that look that makes your heart race. “You look really pretty tonight.”

You feel the blush creeping up your neck, “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He nods, a boyish grin on his face. 

And before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. “Yoongi, do you... want to come up for ramen?”

The second it leaves your mouth, you cringe inwardly. Ramen? Really? But it’s out there now, and you can’t take it back.

Yoongi’s tongue skims the seam of his lips before it curves into a knowing smile. “Ramen, huh?”

You clear your throat, trying to salvage whatever dignity you have left. “Yeah... you know. If you’re hungry.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Ramen sounds good.”

A/N: So....... ramen, eh???? Please lmk what you thought about this chapter <3 Any favorite parts? Personally, it was Yoongi drooling over MC's gym fit. That was hella fun to write.

Thanks again for reading this you lovely human!

Important poll right here Chapter Four >

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Hope I didn't miss anybody, but if I did please shout at me in the comments. 💕

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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[ssentimentals]

thank you for rebloging the prompt list! could I request for 46 with seungcheol wonwoo & soonyoung? if that's too many, then you can pick 1!!! thank you again 🤍

always welcome, bebe!💜 thanks for the request, i'm going to pick one if you don't mind! hopefully you will like it, let me know!

46. kiss out of envy or jealousy (kwon soonyoung)

there's something about picking you up and driving you around that is so dear and important to soonyoung, he can't quite explain it. he finds it weirdly intimate to wait for you with a car door opened, hug you tight, plant a kiss on your forehead and gently close the door for you before taking his own seat behind the steering wheel. he loves letting you choose music, finds peace in locking your hands together and listening how was your day. it's your moment together, the one he cherishes so much and that's why right now his mood is sour and spoiled. and he knows reason for it is stupid and makes no sense but god fucking dammit-

'and he's really nice, you know!' you continue, completely oblivious to your boyfriend's inner turmoil. 'honestly, after having horrible colleagues from finance department, i'm just so happy that they finally hired someone so nice, he really is a jackpot!'

'jackpot, huh,' soonyoung mutters, not being able to hide disdain in his tone.

'he really is!' your excitement would've been cute if wasn't about some other guy. 'my god, you should've seen how all girls started acting the second they saw him, it was hilarious! he's really handsome, so now he's the main talk in our office.'

and soonyoung is usually always there to hype your excitement even more. nothing makes him happier than seeing you full of joy, but he can't for the life of him even fake a smile right now because how are you spoiling this precious moment together gushing about another guy?!

'so you have a new guy in finance department, who is smart and nice to you and on top of that he's very handsome, am i correct?' soonyoung recites in a calm tone. you turn to him, finally sensing that something is off. 'and i have one more thing i wanna ask, is he single?' at your nod, he grits his teeth and continues: 'and i am right now driving you to the dinner with the said guy, correct?'

'it's a company dinner,' you correct, confused at his clipped tone. 'everyone is going to be there.'

soonyoung shrugs it off. 'cool, cool. everyone is going to be there, cool. one more question - does that new guy from finance department who apparently is smart, nice to you and very handsome and who is single.. does he know that you are very much not single?'

your mouth parts slightly and you stare at him like he's grown two heads. honestly, soonyoung is not above being incredibly petty and childish, so he simply stares back at you, waiting for an answer. 'i- uh, no? i mean, it's not like i introduced myself and immediately told him that i have a boyfriend. he didn't ask and, i mean, it's a rather personal information-'

'so he doesn't know,' soonyoung concludes, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. 'cool, cool. i'm walking you to that restaurant, honey. gotta say hi to all your co-workers.'

there's beat of silence and then- 'kwon soonyoung, are you jealous right now?' you stare at him with wide eyes. 'about some guy at work? seriously?'

'about some guy at work who apparently is a jackpot and who is so handsome that you can't stop talking about him for the whole car ride, when it's supposed to be our time!'

that came out way more petulant than he wanted, but soonyoung only rolls his eyes and stares ahead, not sparing you a glance. he knows he's pouting too, can't stop it, he barely holds himself back from angrily stomping too. soonyoung just wants this time to be only about you and him, is it really that bad?

'oh, silly boy,' you whisper and lean closer, rubbing his shoulder with your hand. 'you've got nothing to be jealous about. i have the most awesome boyfriend and no one comes close to him, okay?'

and - okay, it does make him feel better. he turns to you, still pouting and melts at the sight of your fond expression. 'let me kiss you in front of everyone.'

you chuckle and nod. 'do it, loverboy.'

and he does. right after waving hello to all of your co-workers, after meeting the said finance guy, he turns to go and when you step closer to say bye, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. the kiss is very not work-friendly, but soonyoung doesn't care, not when he hears your quiet gasp, not when your pillowy soft lips kiss him back.

'now he knows you have a boyfriend,' he whispers into your mouth when you both lean back.

'idiot,' you mutter affectionately, stepping away.

'your idiot,' he confronts with a wide smile.

'my best idiot,' you answer before turning and going back to your co-workers.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Cat-Levi

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 6)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

A/n: New chapter alert!

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 2.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

The office door fell shut with a clang. Levi tossed the envelope onto the desk, then turned around to face you. You expected him to scold you, but he said nothing. He just stood there and stared at you, one foot tapping the floor in an irritated manner, like he was waiting for something. The silence was hard for you to bear.

"So I take it the drawings are not to your liking, then?" you asked tentatively.

"Now what gave you that impression?" he deadpanned.

"Maybe the way you immediately ordered me into your office after seeing them? Though I guess it could also be to express admiration for my outstanding artistry in private…"

"Certainly not," he huffed. He was scowling again.

"Didn't think so," you murmured. So much for lightening the mood. He really was angry, after all. Maybe you should work on defending yourself.

"You asked to see them, I gave them to you. I did exactly as you told me. So what's the problem, exactly? I can't read your mind."

"Tch," he made. "Guess I need to spell it out for you."

"That would be nice," you said. Though you could already imagine what it was.

"The problem is…this." He pulled out the topmost drawing from the envelope and pushed it in your direction without looking at it. "Why am I like that?"

You gave it a quick glance. He was leaning against the wall, one hand up in his hair, making his bared chest muscles stretch. You had put a lot of attention to detail in there, so you were quite proud of it.

"Shirtless, you mean?"

He nodded, his jaw tense.

"It's a very popular theme with the ladies. I already told you these were all commissions. They want to see what you look like underneath your uniform."

He scoffed. "That's none of their business. Besides, how would you know? You've never even seen me shirtless."

"You are right, I haven't, so there might be some inaccuracies. I'm usually really meticulous, so this has been bothering me for a while, if you must know. I think I got the muscles about right, in fact I really put my heart into those abs...but you probably have some scars that I don't know about, right? Why don't you show me?"

You looked at him expectantly, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"What?!" he asked, dumbfounded. He even forgot to scowl for a moment. "Please? Just a quick peek?"

"No."

"I just want to know if I got it right," you pouted. "At least tell me."

"No."

"Then don't complain if the drawings aren't perfect next time."

His eyes narrowed. "There won't be a next time."

"Right," you mumbled. "I know."

"You apparently don't."

"These really were just drawings I had left from before. What was I supposed to do with them? Burn them?"

"Yes," Levi said.

"Do they really make you that uncomfortable?" you asked.

"They do."

"Okay," you said. "I'll burn them. They make you uncomfortable, so I'll burn them all. Satisfied?"

Levi didn't say anything. He just glared at you, arms crossed over his chest. You could tell he was still mad.

"I am sorry," you said softly.

He nodded. "When you're done burning those drawings, clean the stables. Be thorough. I'll check."

"What? That's gonna take so long!"

"This is nonnegotiable."

"But–"

"You're not happy with your punishment?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

You nodded furiously. "I don't think it's fair." "Fine. After the stables, you will now also do the women's barracks. Not just your room, but all of them."

Your eyes grew big. "You can't even check those," you muttered defiantly.

"I'll ask someone to do it for me. You're lucky, they probably won't have the same standards."

"This is impossible to do in a day," you pouted. "Not that I'm not happy with the punishment. 'Cause I am," you added quickly. You didn't want him to come up with more.

"You have all week," Levi said. He almost sounded amused. His face was back to his usual cool expression.

"Deal." You took the envelope with the drawings from the table, then hesitated, biting your lip. "Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll still have teatime later, right?"

"Of course. Don't be an idiot."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

"Of course he would need to have black, shiny fur", you giggled to yourself as you sat hunched over a piece of paper in a quiet corner of Hange's lab, adding some sparkles to show just how clean it was.

Instead of watching over a very slow, probably very important experiment, like you were supposed to, you were completely absorbed in perfecting your current drawing, which depicted a somewhat irritated-looking cat. Naturally, it wasn't just any cat. You were trying to capture the very essence of Levi Ackerman, distilling it into the shape of the animal on the paper in front of you.

This was your latest plan to get around his order which banned you from making or selling drawings of him. You had to be extra careful after he had chewed you out last time. You'd never seen him so mad. Well, it certainly hadn't helped when you asked him to take off his shirt. He had you scrubbing floors for all of last week. You were finally done with it, and you certainly had no desire to repeat that anytime soon. But you still found it impossible not to wonder whether your portrayal of him had been accurate. (Maybe he'd show you when he wasn't so mad.)

"Don't look at me like that", you mumbled to Cat-Levi, suddenly feeling a little guilty under his reproachful gaze.

"Don't you know I'm doing this all for you?"

If you wanted to be able to afford Levi's birthday present, you had no choice but to resort to methods like these. Surely he would understand. Better yet, he would never find out in the first place.

You nodded at the picture, satisfied. It was still in its draft stage, but it was getting there. In fact, it was kind of cute, and the longer you looked at it, the cuter it became.

"You're so precious," you gushed. "I wish you were real." Your face broke into a massive grin as you imagined what Cat-Levi would actually be like.

Chortling, you started to scribble a list of traits underneath it.

Smol

You don't choose him. He chooses you.

Perpetually grumpy (secretly a big softie but likes to keep the people around him on their toes)

Hits you with his cute little paws when you disturb him while he's sleeping

Hits you when you try to pet him without his permission

If he wants pets, he approaches you first. Then you have to give him attention. If you don't - you guessed it - he'll pout and hit you (with a cute little paw of course)

Is not afraid to draw blood (but with his special chosen person, he hits them paw only without any claws)

Others when they disturb them? They get it bad.

Did I already mention his cute little paws?

Cleanly as fuck. Don't disturb him while he's grooming himself. He will be your enemy.

Has trouble sleeping but when his chosen person is there with him he can relax

Hates being picked up. It makes him feel smol. Never make him feel smol.

Looves head scritches

Loves gourmet cat food. He's a luxury babe. (But if it comes from his favorite person, he will accept anything they feed him.)

You were so immersed in your writing that you didn't even notice Levi leaning in the doorway.

He watched you as you sat in front of the bubbling flasks, bent over your notes, your face hidden behind a curtain of your hair. Your pen was scratching furiously over the paper, exuding an air of productivity and concentration. He was almost impressed.

Then you giggled.

All of his illusions were shattered in an instant. Clearly, you were doing anything but working.

He approached you with a scowl on his face, already suspecting the worst.

"Are you drawing me again?"

You looked up, startled at the sudden presence, but your wide grin remained in place.

"Nooo! It's just a cat. Not everything's about you, you know."

You ostentatiously pushed the drawing over to him, trying to show him that you had nothing to hide. "See?"

Levi peered down at the cat which sat there with a wrinkled nose, its irritated gaze mirroring his own.

"Tch."

Your smile grew even wider. "Buut, now that you're here…lend me a hand, will you? I need help coming up with a name for this cat! What would you name him?"

You held out the drawing to him. He didn't take it. "Shouldn't you be working?" He motioned to the experiment set up in front of you.

"Ah, that," you said, like you had only just remembered it. "Nothing's been happening for the past three hours. I think it's a bust." You extended your hand even further, waggling the sheet of paper right under his nose.

"Come on, it will only take a second. Then I will get back to watching this thing like a hawk, I promise!"

Levi begrudgingly accepted the drawing and read the notes with raised eyebrows. "Who would even like this cat?"

You gasped, clutching at your chest in horror. "Excuse me? I do! Everyone does. He's precious, okay? You wouldn't know true cuteness even if it hit you in the face."

"I think I would," he said, giving you a glance.

"Obviously not. He's like, the definition of cute." You were pouting. "So, did you come up with a name?"

"Hellspawn," he said dryly.

"Noo, that's so mean! That's not even a real name."

"Fine." Levi sighed. He was quiet for a while, thinking. You looked at him expectantly.

"Herbert," he said finally, his tone serious.

You burst out laughing.

"What?" He frowned. "You wanted a real name. I gave you one."

"No, no, it's great, really. You're absolutely right," you tried to appease him.

"Herbert it is then."

Of course, this was just his undercover name. He would always be a Levi to you.

You took the paper from him and added a bowl, lovingly writing 'Herbert' on it in cursive letters.

When you were done, Levi was still standing there with his arms crossed.

You shot him a questioning look. "So, why did you come here? Did you want something?"

"Just wondering why you were late."

"Late?" You took out your pocket watch. It was just after 4 o'clock. "Oh, it's teatime already? I can't believe I almost missed it! I totally lost track of time." You jumped up from your seat. "Let's go!"

"What happened to watching your experiment with hawk eyes?"

You winced, visibly deflated as the excitement drained from your body. "You're right", you mumbled. "I did say that…" Why had you promised that, again?

You slumped back into the chair, eyes fixed on the flasks. They were still bubbling happily, almost as if they were mocking you.

Hange had told you to watch the experiment until they got back. It had seemed easy enough, while also giving you the perfect excuse to get out of today's training. You just never would've imagined they'd take this long.

"Go on without me…" you said in a dramatic, choked up voice.

Levi snorted. He pulled up a chair. "Don't be stupid. You'll get withdrawal symptoms." He knew how you got when you didn't have your afternoon tea. It wasn't pretty.

"These your notes?" He pointed at the lab journal.

You stared at him. It certainly looked like he was offering to watch the experiment for you. But that couldn't be right. You had to be dreaming again. Or hallucinating. It had been a while since you'd had your last tea. Maybe these were some new withdrawal symptoms? Still, you had to make sure.

"Don't tell me… You would give up on teatime for me?"

"Go before I change my mind."

"Wow. For real? Thank you!" You beamed at him. "I'm honestly so touched. You're the best, you know that? The best!"

You bent forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek. His eyes widened.

"I really don't know what I'd do without you," you went on, still smiling cheerfully, before getting up from your chair.

Levi cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at you. "I have work to do. So don't take too long."

"Of course not," you reassured him. "I'll be right back. You won't even notice I was gone."

He rolled his eyes. That was a blatant lie. You always took your time with tea, savoring every last drop.

You were already at the door when you suddenly turned back around.

"I just want you to know…"

"What?" Levi asked.

"I'll never forget your glorious sacrifice," you declared solemnly.

Before he could answer, you were already out the door.

Levi looked after you, absently bringing a hand up to his cheek.

"Tch. Always so dramatic," he grumbled to himself, but his gaze was soft.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn

[wasteofbandagesxx]

Baby I'm yours

{Chuuya x Reader}

Chuuya was going to surprise you. He wanted to do something special for his girlfriend. He adores you, he cares for you, and he loves you. Today he was going to treat you like a queen, it's the least he can do for all your hard work and care. You've always been concerned for his health and gave him as much affection as possible. You've been so sweet to him ever since day one, he wants this surprise to be an appreciation gift. He just wants to show how grateful he is to have a partner like you.

You've been unwell, this weak was pure trash because of constant missions, errands, toxic friends, ect. You just needed time to yourself, or time with someone you love.

Luckily your guy's 2 year anniversary was today, and there is no way in hell Chuuya would let anything ruin your guy's special day. He made Mori give you fewer assignments, Chuuya threatened anyone that was bothering you, and for some reason you didn't have to run any errands today. Obviously because your beloved boyfriend did all the work for you. He didn't get much sleep from staying up till 4 am planning your special day. Where are the reports? He did them all. Is there anything big you need to do today for work? Nope, Chuuya's got that covered. He's such a sweetheart, he would do anything for you to make sure your in the perfect mood to spend time together.

"Babe! Babe! I'm off work now, let's go get some ice cream." Chuuya couldn't be anymore cuter as he jumped at you and clings onto your arm like a kid winning a prize. "I don't see why not. There should be an Ice cream shop around the corner, good thing we're done with work because it closes in half an hour." You kept him close and made your way over to the ice cream shop called "Takeaway. " It's an ice cream shop that apparently brings people together. Rumors say that if you eat their ice cream, you will fall in love and find your soul mate, but again its just a silly rumor. Chuuya was all giggly and happy, you didn't know why or what he was up to, but you just went along with it.

"Heyyy welcome! What can I get for you guys today?" Asks the girl that was serving Ice cream. "I'll have 2 cookie dough, one for me and the lovely lady right here."

"Ohh lovely lady huh? I thought she was your friend or something, good for you though." She had a slight look of disgust on her face but you didn't mind it at first. Some girls always react like this, Chuuya is attractive after all. "You should come by sometimes, you seem like an interesting person. Where do you work?" The lady asks while getting the ice creams. "Your guy's ice creams are amazing, this is my favorite shop after all and I work at uhh...mcdonald's?"

You found it suspicious how she suddenly wanted to get to know him more, but your thoughts were cut off the moment your boyfriend lied about his job. "Oh...mcdonald's? That sucks, but at least you get paid more than I do. You should probably work here as your 2nd job, we could have a lot of fun together. You can get free snacks and ice cream as well." The lady said with a hint of flirting in her voice, her eyes fluttering as she talks to your man in a "friendly" tone.

She hands you your ice cream and continues having a conversation with your boyfriend. You looked at her from head to toe, you realized how pretty she was. You felt a bit insecure and you didn't want to get the wrong idea, maybe she was just being friendly but then you second guess yourself into thinking she's interested in Chuuya.

Chuuya was showing slight discomfort towards the lady once she started asking personal questions but she didn't seem to get the memo that he's not interested in her. He noticed your discomfort and well and thought to himself that they should leave. But then an unexpected question came out of the lady's mouth.

"You wanna come drink with me at my house tonight?"

He couldn't be any more disturbed. He grabbed your waist and pulled you close and gave the lady a nice smile before saying, "No thanks, it's our anniversary and I want to spend time with my beloved girlfriend." Your face turned slightly red at his bold move in front of the girl. She scoffed and rolled her eyes but then played it off with a smile, "Alright then, enjoy your ice creams."

Chuuya snickers and walks off with you by his side, enjoying his delicious ice cream, he noticed how sad you looked when you weren't saying anything, you hardly even touched your ice cream. "Hey baby, I'm sorry that happened back there. There's no need to be jealous, I promise your better than her and I'm yours forever." He said, trying to comfort you. "I don't like girls who are that bold, it's disgusting. I like you because your fucking amazing and so much more. Cmon, eat your ice cream before it melts, or before I eat it because I am very tempted to."

He playfully reaches for your ice cream and you pull away while laughing at him. "No, it's mine you pig!" You immediately ate your cookie dough and he gasped dramatically with a hand on his chest. You eventually got home, and you were expecting to go to sleep or watch a movie before bed. But Chuuya has other plans, he quickly drags you inside the apartment with your eyes closed, and closed the door behind you guys. "Ready love?" He whispers in your ear, making you blush and turn red like a strawberry. You slowly open your eyes when he tells you to, and you couldn't believe what you saw in front of you.

Candles were lit up on the table and counter, on the table were delicious food and a small jewelry box with a bow on it, a teddy bear was sitting next to the jewelry box with a bouquet of flowers leaving against it. Music suddenly starts playing, it a romantic song, one of your favorites. You couldn't be anymore happier. "Aww, honey." You immediately hugged him and giggled in joy, thanking him for the lovely gifts. He lifts up your chin and leans in close before pressing his soft lips against yours. You kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck with your leg getting wrapped around his hips. He holds onto your leg and lower back as the kiss started to get heated. He couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to melt right into you. He grabs your other leg and wraps it around his waist as well and pins you against the wall while he kisses you like a man starved. Your fingers caressed his beautiful ginger hair, getting lost in the feeling, but it soon came to an end as Chuuya pulled away with a shaky break, admiring you. "Let's eat yea? I've had someone prepare the food for us before we got here so let's eat before it gets cold." He gently puts you back down on the ground and takes your hand before guiding you to the kitchen.

The food smelled and looked amazing, you were basically drooling and Chuuya chuckled. "Come sit." He pulls the chair back for you to sit on before scooting it close to the table once you sat down. He took a seat across from you and you both began to enjoy your meal.

Later on, you were admiring the gifts. In the small box was a golden necklace, a locket with a picture of you and Chuuya inside. Of course, you didn't forget about today. Of course you've been stressing about a lot of things but you didn't forget to surprise your boyfriend with gifts as well. You gave him a teddy bear that matched his hair color, a golden watch with your initials carved in the back, and a rose. He couldn't be anymore happier. "Thank you love, you didn't have to. I love your gifts, I really do. But the gift that makes me the happiest, is you." He quickly got up and walked over to your side of the table before picking you up again and kissing you. He made his way to your guy's bedroom as you cling onto him tightly, you guys didn't dare to break apart from the kiss. Chuuya kicked the door open and made his way over to the bed before gently putting you down.

He climbs on top of you and kisses you again, and again, and again. You were like a drug, he was addicted to you. His tongue slithers inside your mouth, the kiss became more passionate and dirty, as if it was never going to end. He pulls away and attacks your neck with hickeys and love bites, marking up your neck. It was his favorite thing to do, as if you were a lollipop, a favorite candy of his. He took the time to worship your body, taking things nice and slow. He slowly removes your shirt, and you began to unbutton his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders and grabbing his hands for a quick moment. He looked at you confused but soon got the memo as you began to take his gloves off with your teeth. "Fuck doll, your so sexy yknow that?" He throws your shirt onto the floor and continued to worship you, you couldn't help but giggle at his words, and he found it adorable. He stopped for a moment to admire your beauty, everything about you.

He cups your face and gives you another kiss, a gentle, loving kiss. It wasn't any normal kiss, but a slow yet passionate one. He gives you a quick peck on the lips and smiles softly, he couldn't get enough of you.

"Baby I'm yours."

[riewritten]

in my head nothing absolutely bad happens in monster anime and they’re actually triplets in a family sitcom somewhere

more headcanons under the cut ✂️

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

༘⋆ FOR CONTEXT

no child experiments. no kinderheim 511. their birth sequence would be Johan first, Anna second, and Nina the youngest. it doesn't actually materialize that much in their dynamics (given they're triplets) except that these two oldest are oooooover overprotective of nina. mama vera was forced to labor the three of them prematurely out of stress upon receiving the news of her husband's death. her brother-in-law, klaus poppe, who had helped vera with the kids after the hubby's death, tried to pursue her not long after. and not only that, klaus also tried to lure anna into this silly lil experiment about children which he claimed was for 'work' at the red rose mansion all the while their mother was out. vera almost killed the man when baby johan exposed him while crying. this event led vera to cut ties with the poppe family and valiantly raised her triplets on her own. vera wasn't able to squeeze any info out of anna (on what poppe had done to her specifically while she was out). worried that she might be traumatized, vera got her into therapy. in the end, only johan and anna knew of it, and whatever happened sure left wounds deep inside anna's heart.

SO, that said!

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ANNA

would be sooooo villanelle-coded (minus the psychopathy of course). like she is the Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss but at the same time she could also be the Female Rage™️. i am absolutely whipped at the thought that she'd have a complicated relationship with johan despite being inseparable during childhood because she's astute enough to know the real him, without filter whatsoever, and she could notice things the naive nina couldn't. no, johan didn't have to be a murderer in this universe for anna to hate him, he just got The Attitude that anna despises. it's jus the typical sibling fight though no worries. it's like there's this modern family-esque interview segments of them talking shit about each other every episode (little do they know, if a war ever breaks, they would absolutely sacrifice themselves to save each other — of course after ensuring their youngest sister's safety first and foremost).

in @suusoh 's head which i claim to be the same as mine because susu is rie and rie is susu, anna is as queer as she could be. and, in my silly lil daydreams, she actually labeled herself queer for clout bc she wanna rebel against societal standards only for it to end up the truest thing she had ever said about herself years later. on top of that, she actually envies her twin brother for having a dick like oh my god girl what the hell is wrong with you. ironically, she tends to be an absolute man-hater sometimes (depends on her mood). she could be a little impulsive, too, especially when she reached the rebellious age. boyfriends here, girlfriends there, and out of curiosity she even tried polygamy that's absolutely not her thing but she did anyway to annoy her conservative christian stepfather.

there's this only moment anna had accepted johan's attitude, remorsefully so, and thats when some girl tried to maul nina at uni (thank god she's good at judo) after mistaking her as anna ㅜㅜ this stranger apparently had her boyfriend stolen by anna during one of her impulsive moments (jesus christ). nina assured them it was all good after anna cried. but johan was absolutely pissed, and anna had a hard time forgiving herself for putting her loveliest babiest angel of a sister in danger bc of her shenanigans.

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ JOHAN

who is he, indeed, if red rose mansion wasn't that traumatic and kinderheim 511 never existed ? it's also hard to imagine for me, tbh, it's just that i think he'd be a chill lil guy who lives in his own head. nina has a hard time managing countless of confessions from different people in the campus—you see, anna is too wild to approach, johan is too absent-minded to care, and nina is the most amicable of them three. when nina opens her locker she'd expect a bunch of love letters addressed to three people: anna, johan, and then herself. majority of them is addressed to johan, tho.

if anna takes pride in her beauty and charisma while nina takes pride in her congeniality and physical prowess, johan keeps up with his brains. he is constantly the school's top one. he gets sent to other campuses for academic competitions. and back in highschool, a faculty even offered vera to have him accelerated due to his intelligence. johan denied the opportunity because he likes the fact that he's on the same grade level as his twin sisters. they have this sort of bonding where they do homeworks together as soon as they reach home. how would he do that if he's accelerated to a higher grade level? who would help nina manage anna's wild tendencies at school? who would help anna keep up with her acads if nina's too busy with her extracurricular activities?

vera is quite concerned johan is having a hard time connecting with people, but little does she know, her lil boy just doesn't want to. socializing is a chore the same way studying is. unless he has an ulterior motive, he chooses to stay at the corner with his books (boo. bummer. a nerd.)

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ NINA

is their cute lil baby! she's everyone's favorite. i think her personality in canon monster (before her 20th bday) is pretty much the same in this one, except that it's more chaotic in her house because she has two sibs trying to kill each other here and there. if not for her extracurricular activities and side jobs (which johan and anna tirelessly demanded her to quit so she could have a rest, only to no avail because nina is the angel who wants to help), i think her academic excellence would be in par with johan's. she also has a lot of friends—that's the reason why johan and anna are protective of her. she could indeed defend herself physically, but she's too kind and naive for her own good it annoys the two. if someone makes her cry, they doubt nina would even put them in their place physically or emotionally because she is just that kind—that's when johan and anna enters behind her back. they could be sneaky little vengeful devils if need be for nina. maybe they got it from uncle klaus.

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ☆ ༘⋆

cutting this before it gets longer lol. thank u for reading! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did lmao. i had sooo much fan imagining and drawing them this way 🤭

[lilacmingi]

LIVING WITH 8 VAMPIRES

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: ATEEZ x fem reader (they’re not dating, but they all flirt with her)

Word count: 7,445

Note: This is my most popular series on Wattpad and I’m bringing it to Tumblr! This first part was published on Wattpad in February 2021. I don’t even know how to explain this series. It started out with silly little scenarios and turned into an ongoing series of crack humor (sometimes mildly suggestive), fluff, a little romance/soft moments, and vampire tomfoolery. If you haven’t read it yet OH BOY you’re in for a ride. I truly hope it makes you chuckle :)

You stepped into the large mansion, the front door creaking as you kicked it shut with your foot, both arms weighed down with bags of groceries.

"Y/n's home!" Wooyoung shrieked, running towards you at an insanely brisk speed.

"I don't think so." You stepped aside before he could tackle you, completely dodging him.

"Hey! How'd you do that?"

"You're becoming predicable, Woo." You stated as you walked into the kitchen, completely unbothered.

You set the weighty bags onto the kitchen counter and began unpacking everything, placing your items in their rightful places.

"Hey, where were you?" Yunho asked, walking into the kitchen.

"I went out for groceries." You answered.

"You didn't tell us." He pouted.

"You wouldn't have let me leave if I did. You're all too clingy."

"You're our little human though." He stated as he hugged you, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop that." You waved him off. "I don't belong to any of you."

"I beg to differ." An airy voice came from behind you.

You turned around seeing San perched up on the countertop, a sly grin on his face.

"I'm really not in the mood for your antics." You stated bluntly and exited the kitchen.

You headed up the large cherry wood steps that seemed to stretch for miles. The only thing on your mind was going to your room for a nice and quiet bath. You made it to the top and headed to your bedroom, just as you reached your door, Mingi dropped down in front of you, hanging upside down like the bat he is.

"Boo!" He shouted, laughing loudly.

His laughter quickly died down when he saw the unamused look on you face. You glanced up at him floating upside down in front of you.

"That's not scary anymore." You stated.

He let out a huff, sticking his bottom lip out.

"Sorry." You pouted, pinching his cheek as you stepped into your room.

•

"But she smells so good." San whined.

"I'm sitting right here." You announced, annoyed.

"Yeah and you smell incredible." San winked.

"Excuse me! We agreed we would not do that." Seonghwa spoke up.

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that someone around here had some sense.

"Thank y-"

"Besides, if we do that, I am the eldest so I should go first."

Your mouth dropped open. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"I am not."

"None of you are biting me." You pointed to all of them.

"You don't have to worry about me, Y/n." Hongjoong smiled warmly.

"Thank you."

"Please." Jongho scoffed. "I'm the youngest and I have the best control out of all you."

"Well, I have the second best control." Hongjoong announced cockily.

"Everyone knows the eldest has the most control." Seonghwa pushed his hair back.

"That's bull crap." Jongho butted in.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You wouldn't know. You don't keep up with the current phrases used in today's time."

"I do not need to."

"Apparently you do because you never know what anyone is talking about." Jongho shot back.

The air went quiet for a moment.

"He's right." Mingi muttered.

"Yeah he is." Mumbled Wooyoung.

Everyone else nodded, muttering in agreement under their breaths.

•

Seonghwa rushed inside, slamming the door behind him, a drawn out sigh leaving his lips as he closed his umbrella. His heavy footsteps thudded across the floor, making it quite obvious that he was upset.

"I cannot believe the audacity..." He grumbled.

"What is it?" San rolled his eyes, knowing that if no one asked why Seonghwa was in a sour mood, he would continue to sigh and groan until someone said something. It's happened way too many times.

"Yeah, if you're gonna stomp around like that, you might as well just tell us." Jongho said.

"There was an adolescent standing on the sidewalk and he blew a cloud of vapors at me, to which I gave him a swift tongue lashing for, and he said I 'harshed his vibe.'"

You stifled a laugh.

"What does that mean?" Seonghwa asked aloud.

"Harshing someone's vibe means you're a party pooper." Yeosang muttered.

"I did not defecate on his celebration."

"No, Seonghwa it means he was having a good time and you ruined it." You spoke up, trying to clarify.

He let out an offended gasp.

"It's not that big of a deal. People say it all the time." Jongho shrugged. "It's not something to get bent out of shape about."

"I am perfectly upright, Jongho."

"That's not—" Jongho let out a long sigh. "Forget it."

•

You and the rest of the guys sat around the living room, each of you doing your own thing. You lifted your feet up, resting them on the coffee table as you looked around at everyone who suddenly appeared uneasy. Before you could ask what was wrong, a voice rang out.

"Get your feet off! That is mahogany from the 1800s." Seonghwa ran over, shooing your feet off the furniture.

"Who cares? It's old." You grumbled.

"It is in perfect condition. I do not need you scuffing it up." He huffed, pulling a handkerchief from his suit pocket, buffing the tabletop.

Out of the corner of your eye, just over Seonghwa's shoulder, Wooyoung was about to set a glass onto a side table beside his chair. Just before the bottom of the glass could make contact with the table, Seonghwa, in a split second and without looking back, flung a coaster over, the glass landing right on it.

"How many times to I have to tell you to use a coaster for your refreshments?"

"How did you-" Wooyoung started.

"I sensed it." Whispered Seonghwa.

•

"So, what kind of music do you guys listen to? I don't ever see you guys listening to any radios or anything."

"I am very fond of classical music." Seonghwa spoke up.

"Of course you are." You muttered.

"I kinda like 90s music." Hongjoong spoke up.

"I haven't listened to much music." San admitted.

"How about I show you guys some new stuff?" You suggested.

"I'm down." Jongho shrugged.

"Great!" You pulled out your phone, scrolling through YouTube, trying to figure out what they might like. "This one."

You tapped on a popular hip hop song, turning the volume up on your phone. As the song played, you watched as some of the boys began to bob their heads to the beat.

"I rather enjoy the rhythm of this music." Seonghwa commented.

"It slaps." Jongho spoke up.

"Pardon? The music did not slap us."

"No, slap is when the beat hits hard."

"That music did not touch me."

"No, idiot. You say something slaps when it's catchy." Jongho explained.

"These are sounds. We cannot catch them."

"You really need to learn some of the terms people use these days." Yeosang sighed.

•

You huffed as you trudged up the steps of the mansion, heading to Seonghwa's room. You found one of his rings sitting on one of the tables in the living room so you decided to put it in his bedroom. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, Seonghwa's coffin being the first thing you saw. You looked away, shivering a bit. The sight was always a little unnerving to you. He's the only one who still slept in a coffin. All the other guys slept in beds, but Seonghwa was old-fashioned, so you expected that from him.

You managed to bring your attention back to the task at hand and placed the ring inside his jewelry box. Just as you were about to leave, you spotted his closet door slightly ajar and hurried over to close it, but you stopped when something inside caught your eye. Slowly, you pulled the door open, a black cape hanging amongst the ruffled shirts and embellished suit jackets.

"No way." You whispered, reaching out to pull the garment off the hanger.

Sure enough, it was a black cape with maroon lining on the inside, a high collar at the top. An idea popped into your head as a mischievous grin spread across your lips.

You descended the stairs in the most elegant way possible, flipping the collar of the cape up.

"Look at me. I'm Seonghwa!" You announced, striding into the living room.

Jongho stifled a laugh as you sauntered around the room.

"Do not put your tainted feet on my mahogany table! I purchased that in a quaint town in Italy in 1876!" You mocked him, spouting off random dates and locations. "Doth thee not comprehend?"

Wooyoung busted out into a fit of high-pitched laugher, clapping his hands at your imitation of his friend.

"Wait wait wait." Hongjoong spoke up through laughter. "Do— do one of him when he hears a phrase he doesn't understand."

You quickly wiped the grin off your face and got serious.

"Pardon? Lit? If you are referring to the lighting in the room, then yes. It is lit very well."

"HA!" Yunho fell back, clutching his stomach.

Mingi collapsed on top of him, laughing loudly.

"Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?"

You froze upon hearing Seonghwa's voice. You slowly turned your head, almost afraid to face him.

"S-Seonghwa." You laughed nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"Last I recalled, I live here."

"Yeah. You do."

"Were you mocking me?"

"What? Psh. No." You waved your hand dismissively. "Not at all."

"She was just having fun, Seonghwa." Yeosang reasoned gently.

"I haven't laughed that hard in decades." San fell back on the couch, huffing.

Seonghwa looked at you, his eyes lingering on the cape you were sporting.

"Very well, then. I will excuse it, but only because you look rather adorable in my cape." He muttered the last part before hurrying off.

You stood there, knowing exactly what he said but not being able to process it.

"What?"

•

"Okay. First of all, you can shorten your words. For example, you say cannot but you can say can't."

"I am aware." Seonghwa muttered.

"See? You could have said I'm aware."

"I know."

"Then say it."

"No."

"Seonghwa, c'mon. You need to at least try it out. That way you don't stand out as much when you go out and converse with people."

"I do not wish to fit in. I am content speaking the way I do."

"Will you at least speak normally so I can hear what you would sound like?" You asked.

Seonghwa looked at you, his thick and sharp brows furrowed, wondering why on earth you would want to hear him speak so casually.

"Just this once?" You begged.

"I supposed it would not kill me." He gave in.

"Seonghwa is gonna say something normal?" Mingi shrieked, suddenly making an appearance.

"Really?" Wooyoung and San asked in unison, both of them sticking their heads into the room.

Within mere seconds all eight of the boys were gathered in the living room, their curiosities piqued after overhearing your conversation.

"I suppose this is entertaining to you all?" Seonghwa quirked a brow, looking around.

Everyone nodded their heads.

Seonghwa turned his gaze back to you with a sigh. "What would you like me to say?"

"Hmm." You thought for a moment. "Y/n, you're awesome. I'm so glad you moved in with us. It's been a blast."

"You want me to say that?"

You nodded.

He paused for a moment, clearly regretting his decision. "Y/n, you're awesome. I'm so glad you moved in with us. It's been a blast."

The sentence sounded foreign coming from Seonghwa, but it was a nice change from his usual fancy talk.

"Woah." You muttered. "That was... kind of attractive."

"What?" Shrieked Jongho. "I speak like that all the time and you never told me it was attractive."

Seonghwa chuckled darkly, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Well, my dear, if you enjoyed that so much, perhaps I should speak that way more often."

"Stop flirting with her!" Hongjoong shoved Seonghwa.

"I can do as I please."

"If you get to flirt with her, so do I." Yeosang spoke up.

"What did I get myself into?" You muttered under your breath.

•

"Y/nnn." Yunho pouted, dragging out your name. "I'm thirsty."

"Do we have any blood bags?" You asked absentmindedly.

"No."

"Well, go out and find someone to drink from."

"I was thinking something else."

You glanced over at him as he scooted closer.

"I know what you're thinking and it's not gonna happen."

"Why not?" He pouted as he began crawling across the couch.

"I don't want you to."

"C'mon, Y/n." He coaxed. "It won't hurt. You'll only feel a pinch. I promise."

His eyes flashed red as he hovered over you.

In a moment of panic, you reached over to the table beside the couch, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the first thing your hands could find.

A flashlight.

You had purchased it less than a week ago since the place was so poorly lit. You placed it in the drawer beside the couch as a temporary home and it seems to have come in handy.

You retrieved the flashlight from its spot, holding it out.

"Don't you dare." You pointed it at Yunho.

"What is that?" He asked, backing off a bit.

"It's portable sunlight." You lied.

Yunho let out a gasp, cowering away.

"Yeah, that's right. It's bright and it burns."

Yunho winced at your words before his face fell flat. "Wait. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

You raised a brow, keeping direct eye contact with him as you pointed the flashlight towards the wall and clicked the on button. Yunho let out a scream, immediately jumping behind the nearest piece of furniture.

"I'll use it on you if you don't stop bothering me. I don't care if you're my friend." You threatened, turning the flashlight off.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Yunho ducked behind the chair. "Please don't use the portable sunlight on me. I won't bother you."

"Good." You huffed, leaning back against the couch.

•

"Y/n, can I play on your phone?" Wooyoung asked with a pout.

"It needs to charge."

"Aw." He frowned.

"Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you guys get your own cell phones?"

Wooyoung furrowed his brows, blinking a few times. "I never thought about that."

"I have no need for one of these cellular devices you speak of." Seonghwa muttered, flipping through the newspaper.

"You might enjoy it." You told Seonghwa. "You can text the boys and download as much classical music as you want."

"I do not need to text my friends. I live under the same roof as them."

"Okay fine, forget the texting thing."

"Seonghwa, if we get phones you should get one too." Wooyoung said.

"I shall reiterate what I just told Y/n. I do not need one. Writing letters suffices."

"It does not. No one really writes letters anymore." You stated.

"What about bills, though?" Yunho spoke up.

"You guys can all get on family plan, it'll be cheaper." You answered simply.

"Ooh exciting." Mingi grinned. "Let's do it!"

"What do you think, Seonghwa?" Hongjoong inquired, turning to his friend.

"Fine." He sighed. "I suppose I can get one of these phones you speak so highly of."

"This is great! When should we go?" You asked.

"Right now!" Wooyoung stood up. "The sun isn't out much today. I think it'll be safe."

"Okay, then. Who's coming with me?"

"All of us!" San piped up.

"Not me." Seonghwa muttered.

"But you have to be there to choose your phone color." You pointed out.

"I do not care what color the phone is."

"I'm gonna get him a pink one." Yeosang whispered to Hongjoong.

"Alright, I shall join you." Seonghwa spoke quickly, setting his newspaper aside.

All nine of you piled into the black van they had for group outings. San was quick to push everyone aside so he could sit in the passenger's seat beside you, repeatedly calling shotgun as he scrambled into the seat.

You pulled up to the nearest cellphone carrier building and stepped inside. All eyes were on you and your group of friends as you walked through the store. You were sure you all looked like a rather strange group, but you couldn't be bothered by it. An employee came up right away to assist you all in your cellphone endeavors.

It took a while to get out of the store because Wooyoung and Mingi couldn't decide which color phone they wanted and Seonghwa kept stopping the employee every few seconds to ask what gigabyte and data was. Eventually, you pulled him aside and asked that he just let you take care of it. There was also a rather long conversation about wether the boys wanted unlimited data or not.

"Do you have wifi at your house?" The employee asked.

"What is w-" Seonghwa started, only to be discreetly jabbed in the side by Jongho.

"We don't." The youngest answered.

"Okay, then you'll want the unlimited data."

After being in the store for over an hour, you finally made it out, all eight of the boys with brand new cellphones.

"I have my own phone!" Wooyoung squeaked, holding up his newly activated device.

"That was rather expensive." Seonghwa commented.

"Yeah but did you see the look on that guy's face when you dropped all those coins onto the counter?" Jongho laughed.

"It was as if he had never seen money before." Seonghwa remarked.

"That's because no one uses that kind of money anymore. It's like really old and valuable." You spoke up.

"Old?!" Seonghwa shrieked.

"Yeah." You answered bluntly.

"Well, if you think about it, we're all old. We've been vampires since like the mid 1800s." Yeosang pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't act old." Jongho mentioned. "Seonghwa does, though."

"Oh no." You muttered, knowing there was about to be an argument.

"I do not act old. I am simply being a proper and elegant gentleman."

"Guys please." You sighed. "Argue when we get home."

"What app should I download first?" Yunho asked, seemingly oblivious to what was just happening.

•

"I got a phone. I got a phone." Mingi sang as he skipped cheerfully through the house, swinging his arms as he did so.

Suddenly, the phone slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor causing everyone to freeze. The room was dead silent as everyone started at the phone lying face down on the floor.

"Guys." You held your hands out. "It's okay."

You crept towards the phone, slowly picking it off the ground, almost too afraid to look at the screen. You hesitantly flipped it around and glanced at it, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw the screen was still in tact.

"It's okay guys!" You announced, holding the phone up causing the boys to let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You have to be careful with this." You informed him, handing the phone back to Mingi. "It's very delicate. You can't drop it on any hard surfaces and you can't get it wet."

"Okay." He nodded. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Just be careful."

•

"Mingi!" You called.

"Yes?" He appeared in front of you in an instant.

"I got something for you."

"Ooh! A gift?"

"Sort of." You pulled out a large protective phone case that you had hidden behind your back, handing it to Mingi.

"What's this?" He questioned.

"It's a protective phone case."

"It's kind of bulky."

"That's the point. It'll help protect your phone if you drop it."

He pursed his lips, putting the case on his phone.

"I don't really like it."

"Too bad. You need to get used to having a phone and practice not dropping it. Then you can have a different case."

"Okay." Mingi frowned.

Days went by and Mingi really didn't like his new phone case. It wasn't quite fair to him that he was the only one with an ugly case.

"How come I have to be babied and have a big, bulky phone case?" He whined.

"Because you're the one who dropped your phone first." You told him.

"Don't be upset, Mingi. You're setting an example for us." Jongho said.

"Yeah we're learning from you." Yunho added.

"Really?" Mingi beamed.

They nodded.

He puffed up his chest proudly before sauntering off.

•

"Y/n!" San called while running up to you. "Look what I did!" He turned his phone around so you could see it.

Your jaw nearly fell to the floor when you saw a Tinder profile on the screen. His Tinder profile. A mirror selfie of San with his index finger on his bottom lip was displayed on the majority of the screen.

"San."

"Yes?"

"You have to delete that."

"What? Why? Is it not sexy?" He asked, looking at the photo.

"No, San, listen to me. You have to take down your profile. Delete the app."

"My date will be upset." He frowned.

"Date?" You gaped, feeling a tinge of jealousy.

"Yeah. Look." He showed you someone's profile, that someone being Billie Eilish.

"San, that's Billie Eilish."

"I know. She told me who she was."

"Do you even know who she is?" You questioned.

"Someone who wants to go on a date with me." He grinned proudly.

"No. She's a famous singer."

"Oh. That's so cool!"

"It's not."

"Why?"

"Because that's not actually her."

"But she's talking to me. How could it not be her? I have our messages."

"There's this thing called catfishing. It's where people pretend to be someone they're not. Usually they're pretending to be celebrities." You informed him.

"What?" He frowned.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I guess I should delete my profile." He dropped his head. "Here. Can you do it for me?" He held his phone out.

"Of course." You took it from him, deleting the profile and the app before handing it back.

"Hey. How about we watch a movie or something?"

San still looked upset, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

"I'll let you cuddle with me." You nudged him.

His head shot up, eyes sparkling as thoughts of his deleted Tinder profile went out the window.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" He picked you up, speeding off to your bedroom which held the only TV in the house, thanks to you.

•

Not long after the boys got phones, Yunho and San were begging to make a group chat. Seonghwa was absolutely against it, but he got added anyway, much to his distaste.

"We can name it?" Hongjoong exclaimed, his mouth hanging open.

"Yes you can."

"Ooh! Let's name it Vamp Squad." Yunho suggested.

"That's lame." Jongho shot the idea down immediately.

"How about Fang Gang?" Wooyoung suggested while striking a pose.

"Lame." Muttered Jongho.

"I don't know. It's kinda cool." You admitted.

After getting your approval, Wooyoung immediately went to typing on his phone.

Wooyoung changed the group name to Fang Gang

"Awesome." He grinned.

"Let's text right now!" Yeosang suggested, eager to see what being in a group chat was like.

"We are in the same room." Seonghwa pointed out.

"You guys can do that." You smiled, causing everyone, besides Seonghwa, to become excited.

Mingi

Hi

:)

"How did you do that?" Jongho looked up at Mingi with his mouth agape.

"The two dots and the moon shape." Mingi explained with a cute smile.

"Those are called emoticons. You can use semicolons, colons, parentheses, and more to make faces. Watch this."

You

;)

:(

:3

:0

:]

"Woaahh." The boys marveled at your little emoticon faces.

"You guys have emojis too." You pointed out. "They're like emoticons but with way more detail. Tap the little icon at the bottom of your keypad."

The boys tapped away on their phones, gasping even they saw the abundance of emojis.

Yunho

😀😎👋🏻

Hongjoong

❄️🍇🍉🧀🏀

Jongho

🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🙋‍♀️

That's us :)

"Okay you guys are having way too much fun with this." You shook your head, unable to hold back the fond smile pulling at your lips.

"Yes we are." Jongho nodded.

"I have so many emojis at my disposal." Wooyoung murmured, his eyes gleaming as he scrolled past the different categories.

"There's an emoji for everything!" Yeosang gaped.

"There is." You nodded. "It's actually amazing."

"So what do emojis do?" Hongjoong inquired.

"They help show a bit of emotion through text. Hence the name emoji."

"Ah." Hongjoong nodded. "So if I'm happy I can use the happy face and if I'm angry I can use the angry face."

"Yes."

"Cool." He whispered in amazement, a smile on his face as he looked at the phone.

San

Seonghwa

Seonghwa

Hey

Seonghwa hey

Seonghwa glared across the room at San, his eyes flashing red as a threat. "Stop."

San stuck his tongue out in response.

The group chat continued to blow up throughout the day. Most of the time it was just random emojis and words. You couldn't find it in yourself to be annoyed. In fact, you found it cute how they were all so excited about texting.

Yunho

Hey Y/n. Wsbatarw you dojng

You

What?

Jongho

What are you trying to say?

Yunho

I askd howjs she wa doibfg

You

I see

You're using that vampire speed of yours to respond quickly but you're making lots of typos in the process LOL

Yunho

Shut up

Yuo don't kneow tbat

You clamped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

•

"Is that my blanket?" Yeosang asked Wooyoung.

"Yeah."

"You didn't ask to use it."

"I didn't think I needed to." He shrugged.

"Give it back." Yeosang demanded, holding his hand out.

"What? No, I'm using it."

"It's my blanket."

"I don't care."

"Give it back or I'll use the portable sunlight on you." He threatened.

"You won't." Wooyoung chuckled bitterly.

"Alright, bet."

Yeosang snatched the flashlight from the drawer, turning it on before Wooyoung had a chance to react. He let out a hiss, shielding himself. He quickly realized that the light wasn't hot nor was it burning him. At the very least, it was mildly irritating to his eyes.

"What?" Yeosang muttered, crestfallen.

"HA!" Wooyoung laughed, pointing at Yeosang.

"Stop laughing! Do you know what this means?" He asked, clicking off the flashlight.

"What?" Wooyoung questioned, oblivious.

"This isn't actually portable sunlight. Y/n tricked us."

Wooyoung's eyes widened.

•

You headed down the steps, towards the living room area hearing lots of hushed whispers. As soon as you stepped into the room it went quiet, everyone's eyes on you.

"Why is everyone gathered here?"

"I would like to know the same thing." Seonghwa huffed, looking agitated.

Wooyoung crossed his legs, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees.

"We need to talk."

"Why are you acting like I'm in trouble?" You chuckled, taking a seat beside Mingi.

"Because you are." Yeosang spoke up.

"Why?"

He held up the flashlight you often used to keep the boys away from you.

"This isn't portable sunlight." He stated.

You eyes widened, knowing they were onto you.

"It's not?" Mingi sat up.

"No. It appears to be some sort of miniature light. It's not sun at all." Yeosang informed the group.

"Are you kidding me?" Yunho exploded.

"It took you this long to figure it out?" Jongho spoke up. "I figured it out already."

"What?" Everyone looked at Jongho angrily.

"And you didn't think to tell us?" Hongjoong asked.

"I enjoyed seeing you all get so scared when Y/n threatened you." He chuckled.

"Y/n, please explain yourself." San crossed his arms.

"Okay. I lied. It's just a flashlight, nothing more. I just needed something to use to keep you guys away from me." You admitted.

"If you wished to have space you should have asked." Seonghwa stated.

"Not everyone listens." You spoke pointedly, eyeing San and Wooyoung.

"We just love you so much." San spoke cutely.

"You have a unique way of showing it."

•

You walked into the kitchen in search of a snack, needing something to hold you over before dinner. Pulling open the pantry door, you peered inside to see what there was to choose from.

"Whatcha doing?" Yeosang's smooth voice inquired softly.

"Looking for a snack."

"I see a snack right here in front of me."

You spun around to face him. "Excuse me?"

It wasn't often Yeosang made comments like that, so it caught you off guard.

"You heard me." He hummed, his eyes flashing red.

"Yeosang, please." You tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. "I am not in the mood for this."

"What do you think you're doing?" Hongjoong's voice rang out.

You snapped your head towards the entrance of the kitchen seeing Hongjoong standing in the doorway. He stomped up to Yeosang and jerked him away.

"I asked you a question." He snapped.

"She smelled nice and I'm thirsty." Yeosang answered plainly.

"Well, go out and find someone to feed off of. You know Y/n is off limits." Hongjoong said as he narrowed his eyes at the blonde.

Before he could respond, Hongjoong grabbed your hand.

"C'mon, Y/n." He muttered, pulling you out of the room and into another where you could be alone. "Are you alright?" He asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

The caring and gentle gesture had your cheeks feeling warm.

"I'm fine." You told him.

"You sure?"

You nodded.

Hongjoong pulled you into a hug.

"I'm sorry about Yeosang." He muttered.

"It's fine. I'm honestly used to it at this point." You chuckled, giving him a pat on the back.

You started to pull away, but Hongjoong held you still.

"Hongjoong-"

"You do smell good." He whispered.

You quickly shoved him away. Hongjoong claimed to have the second best control in the group and he more than likely wasn't going to do anything, but you weren't willing to test that theory.

"Jeez. You too?" You huffed, stalking away.

"Y/n?" Yunho called as you stepped into the living room.

"Hey! I was looking for you." Wooyoung spoke up as he descended the stairs.

San appeared out of nowhere and nearly tackled you in a hug, nuzzling his face against your cheek.

"San, please. I'm really not in the mood." You huffed, wiggling out of his grip. "I'll use the..." You trailed off, realizing you couldn't use the flashlight as a threat anymore.

"Yeah. That's right." Wooyoung chuckled, a smug grin on his face. "You don't have your portable sunlight anymore. How are you gonna get rid of us?"

Without a word, you spun around and immediately started walking towards the front entrance.

"Where are you going?" San asked.

"Out to eat. I was thinking of getting pizza for dinner—with extra garlic."

"How could you?" They gasped.

You smirked, reaching out to open the door only to be stopped.

"I'm sorry." Yunho wailed, dropping to his knees and latching onto your leg.

"Me too!" Wooyoung declared dramatically, following what Yunho did.

"We'll leave you alone. Please don't eat garlic." Yunho cried out.

"You two are the biggest babies." You sighed, ruffling their hair playfully. "I'm not going anywhere."

•

"Hey do you remember when we first met?" Mingi asked.

"Yes. At a social gathering in 18-" Seonghwa was immediately cut off.

"Not us. Y/n."

"Oh yeah." You chuckled at the memory. "I remember it very well.”

*flashback*

You stood on the cramped bus as it drove down the busy streets of Seoul. You had been staying in a hotel for about three days and your search for a place to live was bearing no results. You thought you had a place lined up, but someone else who was willing to pay more money got it instead. You released a long sigh, your eyes glancing down at a man sitting in one of the seats lining the walls of the bus. You couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have found a seat. Your eyes traveled down to the open newspaper in the man's hands, spotting a small section off to the side labeled: ROOMMATE WANTED in large letters. Your eyes widened upon seeing the announcement, taking a brief glance at the name of the newspaper, making sure to remember it.

You got off at the next stop, searching for the nearest newspaper dispenser, spotting one for the newspaper publisher you were in search of. You hurriedly fished out some coins, dropping them into the coin slots before pulling out one of the papers, hastily flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for.

ROOMMATE WANTED

Name: Kim Hongjoong

Rooms: 10

Bathrooms: 3

Looking for a roommate who knows how to drive or can provide transportation. Must be able to run errands at any time of the day.

If you are interested please stop by any time.

You furrowed your brows after reading the requirements.

"That's an odd request." You muttered to yourself.

But ten bedrooms? That's crazy. It made you wonder how many people lived there currently.

Less than 30 minutes later you found yourself standing in front of a large mansion. The outside was a bit unkempt and weathered, but nice nonetheless. You reached up and gave a few knocks to the large front door. Moments later, it creaked open, a man with dark hair stood inside. His attire was a bit odd and somewhat Victorian. He had on a dressy shirt with large, ruffled sleeves, a gray and silver vest, and black dress pants.

"Can I help you?" He asked, his voice soft and airy.

"Yes. I'm here about the ad in the paper." You held it up. "Are you Kim Hongjoong?"

"I am. Please, come inside." He stepped aside, allowing you to walk in.

You were immediately rendered speechless at the mansion's interior, marveling at the exquisite and vintage-like decor.

"Who is that?" Someone stuck their head into the room.

"Do we have a guest?" A second person piped up.

"It's just someone who saw our ad in the paper." Hongjoong informed the two.

"A potential roommate?" A third person came hurrying into the room.

"Possibly. Go get the others, please." Hongjoong requested. "You can have a seat over there." He gestured towards a red couch sitting against the wall.

You took a seat, watching as more and more guys entered the room. Five, six, seven.

What did I get myself into? You thought.

"Who is this?" An eighth man with dark hair and similar attire as Hongjoong asked while striding into the room.

The way he carried himself was that of a dignified man, his aura intimidating. It was clear he held some authority, like Hongjoong, but unlike the latter, he didn't have a friendly vibe.

"This is..." Hongjoong trailed off, turning to you.

"Y/n. My name is Y/n." You spoke up, introducing yourself.

"Right, Y/n. She is here about the roommate ad."

The dark-haired guy turned towards Hongjoong, pulling him off to the side. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the house was so quiet you couldn't help it.

"We already discussed this. I do not want a human living with us."

What? Did I hear that correctly?

"Seonghwa, be quiet." Hongjoong shushed. "She's right there."

"I explicitly told you not to put that ad in the paper." The one named Seonghwa whispered harshly.

"Just give her a chance." Hongjoong pleaded.

"Very well."

"Alright." Hongjoong approached you, clasping his hands together as he took a seat across from you. "You said you were interested in possibly staying here, correct?"

"Yes. I just moved here less than a week ago and I haven't been very lucky so far."

"How so?" Inquired Hongjoong.

"Well, for starters, the day I got here, the house I was supposed to move into was sold to someone with more money."

"That is quite unfortunate." Muttered a brown-haired guy who seemed to be keeping to himself. He had a rather strong build and you could tell he stayed in shape.

"I wasn't aware there were eight of you here." You mentioned. "I also didn't realize it was all men living here. Are you looking for a male roommate specifically?"

"We don't mind sharing the house with a woman." A man with sharp catlike eyes and dimples smiled, shooting you a wink.

Hongjoong shot him a warning glance before turning back to you.

"Apologies. The ad in the newspaper was my idea which is why only my name was listed."

"I see."

"You seem a bit apprehensive." A long-haired blonde with extremely handsome features commented.

"Just a little, but I'm also pretty desperate to find a place to live."

"You can drive, right?" A tall blonde asked. His features were soft and reminded you of a puppy.

"Yeah." You nodded. "I don't have a car though."

"That's alright. We have a van." He informed you.

"You don't use it?"

"None of us know how to drive."

"Ah."

"Well, Wooyoung tried driving once but he nearly crashed into the house." A brunette with a deep voice spoke up.

"I told you I was sorry." The one named Wooyoung whined.

"If I wasn't already dead, you would have killed me."

"Shut up." The seemingly quiet brown-haired guy elbowed the taller one in the side.

You gave them both an odd glance before looking back at Hongjoong who appeared quite nervous.

"So, what do you think?" He asked suddenly.

"Well..." You trailed off.

"You wouldn't have to pay any rent or anything." He spoke up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

You were apprehensive at first, considering there were eight guys staying there, but they all seemed pretty friendly. Plus, this might be your only chance to find a place to live.

"Okay." You nodded.

"You'll move in?" Asked Hongjoong.

"Yes."

"Before you do that," Seonghwa started, stepping past Hongjoong. "There is something you should know about us."

He began circling you, eyeing you up and down before stopping at your side. You glanced over at him as he leaned in, towering over you.

"We are vampires." He spoke lowly.

You let out a loud laugh. "You're pulling my leg, right?"

Seonghwa stepped away, glancing down at your legs. "I did not touch your leg."

"Sorry about him." Wooyoung spoke up. "He's stuck in 1842."

1842?

"I'm sorry, what?" You blinked.

"You guys are making her nervous." Hongjoong hurried over.

"Good." Seonghwa muttered.

"You're not playing a prank on me?"

"No." Answered Seonghwa.

Your gaze moved across the room, taking in the appearance of everyone standing around. All eight of them wore similar outdated, Victorian-style attire. That's when it clicked.

"So, you guys really are vampires?"

They all nodded.

You looked over at Hongjoong who had a guilty expression on his face.

"Okay." You took a step back, holding your hands up. "As long as no one bites me, I'm okay with this."

"What?" Seonghwa exclaimed, clearly upset that you accepted the offer.

"You don't mind?" The tall guy with the deep voice asked, his brown eyes sparkling as his lips stuck out in a pout.

"No. Actually, I think it's pretty cool."

*end of flashback*

"I can't believe Seonghwa didn't want me to move in."

"Apologies. I did not trust humans at the time."

"It's fine. That was two years ago, anyway. Plus, I've grown on you, haven't I?" You grinned. "C'mon. Admit it."

Seonghwa cracked a smile. "I suppose."

•

You stepped into the large and spacious common room where everyone was gathered. "Hey, guys. I've invited some friends over for dinner. So I'm gonna need you guys to not be weird. Also please stay out of the kitchen."

"What kind of friends are coming over?" Yunho inquired.

"Yeah. Are they guys?" San piped up.

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Two." You answered.

"Do they like you?"

"San, they're just my friends. Please just let me spend time with them, okay?"

They all agreed, nodding their heads in acknowledgment.

You went to the kitchen and started preparing a quick and simple meal, thinking it would be nice to have something made at home for once instead of delivery. You began plating the food just as there was a knock on the front door.

"I got it!" You announced, hurrying out of the dining room and rushing to answer the door before anyone else could. "You all stay right there." You pointed to the boys all sat around the living room.

You cleared your throat and turned towards the door before opening it.

"Jungwoo, Taeyong. Hi."

"Hi, Y/n." Jungwoo gave a warm smile.

"I hope you two are hungry. I made dinner myself."

"I'm starving." Taeyong grinned excitedly.

"Come on in." You stepped aside, allowing them to walk inside.

You glanced over at San who seemed to be glaring at your two acquaintances along with the other boys.

You let Taeyong and Jungwoo walk ahead of you as you made an "I've got my eyes on you." gesture to the group of vampires in the living room.

You already had the dining room set up and the food plated. Taeyong rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he sat down at the table.

"This place is incredible." Jungwoo commented, gazing around at the fancy dining room.

"Thanks."

"Who were those guys in the living room?" Taeyong asked.

"My roommates."

"All of them?"

"Yeah but this house is big enough for all of us."

"You got really lucky." Jungwoo said before taking a bite of pasta. "Seriously. You're living the high life."

"Eh." You shrugged. "Sort of. Some of my roommates are a bit clingy."

As if on cue, San came striding in, pulling out the chair beside you and taking a seat.

"Exhibit A." You gestured to him.

Taeyong and Jungwoo chuckled.

"San. What are you doing?"

"I thought I would have dinner with you all." He grinned cheekily, showing off his dimples.

You chewed on your lip, giving him a hard glare.

San smirked in response, reaching into the basket of freshly-baked bread sitting on the table. He took a bite, clearly not planning on leaving anytime soon.

As he chewed, he furrowed his brows, coughing a few times. San reached up and scratched at his face a bit.

"Why is my face so itchy?" He asked aloud.

Your eyes widened as they trailed down to the piece of bread in his hand.

"What kind of bread is this?" He asked.

"It's garlic bread."

San froze, blinking a few times. "What bread?"

"Garlic bread."

His eyes went wide. He immediately dropped the bread onto the table, pushing himself out of his chair. "Excuse me." He spoke calmly before sprinting out of the room.

"Is he okay?" Taeyong asked, his brows creased with worry.

"He's fine! He's... got a gluten allergy." You lied.

"He didn't know that was bread?" Jungwoo questioned.

"Ah. Well, you see, we buy gluten-free bread for him and he didn't know the difference."

Jungwoo and Taeyong nodded.

"Well, I hope he's alright." Taeyong frowned.

"He's fine." You waved your hand dismissively.

Serves him right.

•

You were cleaning the living room/common room area of the house, making sure Seonghwa's precious mahogany coffee table was spotless and free of smudges or scuffs. It didn't require much cleaning since Seonghwa did such a good job of buffing it out every single day.

As you were checking the tabletop for any blemishes, you noticed a small notebook sitting on the edge. You picked it up, running your fingers along the cover. It was just slightly bigger than your hand and bound in black leather.

You didn't want to pry, but your curiosity got the best of you. You opened up the notebook to the cover page, the name Park Seonghwa written in perfect calligraphy.

Is this a journal perhaps? You wondered.

You flipped to the next page which was covered in notes of some sort.

Cool - Does not mean cold. It means you are excellent.

Lit - Does not refer to lighting. It means all the rage.

TV - A strange picture box used for entertainment.

Wifi - Helps access the "internet".

Data - Similar to wifi. Can only be used on a cell phone.

Vaping - Something I detest very much. Seriously, I do not understand these adolescents and their electronic nicotine sticks.

You chuckled at his small side note before continuing to read down the list.

Sick - Another word for "cool". When someone says "That's sick!" it does not mean ill.

Dope - Yet another word for "cool" or "sick".

You flipped through a few more pages, seeing that all of them were notes on slang terms. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hold back a smile as you closed the journal, placing it back where you found it and waking away.

Part 2

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[shadowdaddies]

Can I request gavriel having a soft spot for reader, who is really kind and bc of that people takes advantage her,

so a boy is treating her badly and he (and the cadre maybe) confronts him and idk i just need a bit of hurt/comfort

have a nice day love ❤️

ooh I loved writing this, I need a Gavriel in my life 🥺 thank you love, I hope you have a wonderful day as well 💜

Always Yours

Gavriel x Reader hurt → comfort

Warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of violence/weapons

Nothing was ever good enough for him. No matter how hard you tried to predict his wants and needs, he found something to make you feel inadequate. And yet when he was kind to you, he knew all the right things to say. He had a power of you - one of which you were somewhat aware, but refused to acknowledge - to make you feel like both the most special person, or the lowest, most unworthy of love depending on his mood.

You’d distanced yourself from most of your friends since starting the relationship, becoming dependent on this man for so much of your needs that it was difficult to let him go. Today, you were being punished for whatever minuscule infraction you had apparently committed against him. Overwhelmed with self-loathing and loneliness, you sought out comfort the only way you knew how: in the warm Terrasen sun.

Finding a lush green meadow, your legs gave out under you from the relief. You laid down among the wildflowers and closed your eyes, basking in the sunshine as you felt like you could breathe for the first time in weeks. The further you relaxed, however, the more your doubts and tangle of emotions swirled in your mind. Tears threatened to spill as you struggled to keep your thoughts from spiraling, when a shadow crossed over your face, blocking the sun from view.

Opening your eyes, you saw Gavriel standing over you with a soft smile that did little to hid the concern in his eyes. “Hey, Gav,” you whispered up at him through a sniffle. “Hi, angel,” he replied in that soft, deep voice as he sat down with you in the grass. 

You watched him as he picked a small flower, twirling the stem in his hand before tucking it in your hair. You smiled at that, for the first time in what felt like forever, and took Gavriel’s hand in yours as you absentmindedly studied his features - the broad, calloused hand you were holding, his tanned skin and golden hair, his kind eyes that were studying you just as you were him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked so gently, so purely without judgment, that for the first time in months you felt as though you did want to talk to someone. It was difficult at first as you explained your tumultuous relationship with another man - feeling silly evening mentioning someone like that in someone as incredible as Gavriel’s presence - but once you began talking, the words poured out of you.

Gavriel listened patiently, letting you nervously fidget with his hand as you spoke - showing no judgment, only the brief flash of anger in his eyes when you spoke of how you had been treated. After you were spent from sharing everything that had happened, you looked to Gavriel nervously, awaiting what he had to say. He simply took your hand that was holding his and lifted your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss. 

Looking into your eyes with an intensity that made your stomach flip, Gavriel spoke with a contagious sureness in his voice. “You deserve better than that. I am sorry that I allowed him to keep you away from your friends and those who truly love you for so long, but I will be by your side to help you see how incredible you are - how beautiful, and kind, and loved.” Your eyes welled with happy tears, heart swelling as you listened to Gavriel’s words - the affirmations that you had not heard in so long, and needed so desperately.

Standing up from the grass and wiping off his pants, Gavriel reached out his hands to yours. “Come on, let’s go inside,” he said as he hauled you up, keeping a hand on your lower back as he led to the castle. 

You went in through the servants’ entrance to the kitchens, in need of water after all the talking and crying. Expecting the space to be empty, you jumped when you heard a gruff voice ask, “who do we need to kill?” You turned to see Lorcan and Rowan lounging at a table, Lorcan sharpening his sword as Rowan’s eyes bored into you, assessing your puffy eyes and flushed cheeks.

You laughed, “no one. It’s just a stupid male.” Aelin flitted into the kitchen, sitting in Rowan’s lap as she grabbed the apple he was eating out of his hand. “That would be all of them,” she said, earning a warning growl from Rowan that she returned with a wink and a kiss to his cheek.

Gavriel handed you a glass of water, returning to his protective stance with his hand on your hip as he asked if you needed food or anything else. You noted Lorcan’s gaze as he looked up from sharpening his blade, his eyes settling on where Gavriel’s hand rested - a subtle smirk forming on his lips before he returned his attention to his sword. Lorcan sighed, standing up as he appreciated his handiwork, light glinting off his blade. “Rowan’s offer still stands, just give us the name,” Lorcan winked at you, making a show of flipping the sword in his hand before holstering it in his belt. He nodded at Rowan and Aelin, the couple taking the hint to leave with him as they cleared out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with Gavriel once more. 

You sighed, turning around to face Gavriel so that you were sandwiched between the kitchen counter and his massive frame. You craned your neck up to look at his face, instantly comforted by his mere presence. Sighing you dropped your head against Gavriel’s chest. “What do I do, Gav?” You felt two warm hands cup your face, gently tilting your head to look at him. “You rely on me, on the cadre, on Aelin, and those who love you. I will not let that male - or anyone else - treat you poorly, ever again,” he swore with that same contagious sureness from before. 

You melted into the comfort of his touch, gazing into Gavriel’s tawny eyes for a long moment before a feeling washed over you. Unlike anything you had experienced before, the world suddenly tilted, pushing you towards Gavriel. You felt like a golden thread was pulling you into him as you gasped, searching his face as you struggled to remain tethered to reality. 

Acting on impulse, you reached up and pulled Gavriel down towards you, your lips less than an inch from his as you took in his wild expression. Gavriel closed the gap, his warm lips kissing you with a reverence, a passion unlike anything you had felt before. You pulled away from him, staring in awe as you fumbled for words. “You, you’re-“ 

“I’m your mate, angel,” Gavriel whispered with a nod, and you felt a sense of peace that made every challenge you had been through in your life worth it, because it led you here.