#i briefly thought about being embarrassed by this collection but i’m just not

[xactodreams]

hi! if you're comfortable with sharing this - what faberry fics do you have printed out? :D

I’ll Be - stix04

Don’t Blink: Vol 1 (ch 1-18) - poetzproblem

Don’t Blink: Vol 2 (ch 19-27) - poetzproblem

Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise - powergrapes

Don’t Look Now But I Lost My Shoe - kabensi (cover by yours truly)

The Silence of Silence - your.kat

So Falls the World - SkyWarrior108

Better Run, Out Run My Gun - your.kat

Better Run, Faster Than My Bullet - your.kat

Modern Love - ohnice1

Holidaze - roxystyle11

Don’t Mean A Thing - kabensi

[gothicgaycowboy]

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.1k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you make Aemond’s longtime librarian fantasy come to life.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ no minors, fem dom, sub aemond, a cock ring, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, role play (kinda), unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n, edging (m receiving), both reader and aemond are little losers, established relationship, pet names, embarrassing family dinner conversations, a cameo from aemond’s lesbian moms and aegon.

𝙖/𝙣: this was originally going to be the beginning of my kinktober but I didn’t even get a chance to write out any of my other ideas in time. also big thank you to this anon who inspired this fic. hope you enjoy 💋

Up until now you thought you and your boyfriend had no secrets between you, but as it turns out you were wrong.

It started a week ago, you and Aemond drove up the countryside for a weekend to visit his family for Alicent’s birthday. Everyone tried their best to make it up there for big celebrations.

After three years together you feel like a member of the family yourself, Alicent and Rhaenyra even refer to you as their second daughter. You feel more at home with them than you do with your own family — and more importantly you felt like they couldn’t shock you anymore. That lasted until dinner.

Aegon and Aemond had gotten into a tiff about something juvenile that you can’t even remember anymore. Words tossed back and forth at one another from across the table like a tennis match. Rhaenyra was about to interject when Aegon blurted out: “Did you ever tell your sweetheart about what you did with my rag mag?”

Now that caught your attention.

Aemond’s face became beet red. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fear. Aegon smiled cockily at his brother’s expression, poking a forkful of their mothers dinner into his mouth.

Alicent and Rhaenyra tried to object to this conversation as soon as the word ‘rag mag’ was tossed out, but were cut short by your boyfriend.

“You wouldn’t.” It was clear Aemond was attempting to sound intimidating when it was obvious to everyone else he was fearing for his life.

“Oh, but I really would.” You vaguely remember overhearing Rhaenyra warn Alicent to cover her ears. Aegon turned his full attention to you, his eyes locked with yours. “When your precious boyfriend was still shorter than me he snuck into my room, snooped through my collection, and ripped out the naughty librarian spread all for himself.”

For the first time since you had met him Aemond became shy. You didn’t quite understand why exactly. Your boyfriend was no saint when it came to sex. He was the one who suggested most of your perverted ventures thus far, so why had he never told you this story himself?

After the table was cleared and conversation changed Aemond popped outside to take a quick smoke break — the perfect opportunity for you to interrogate Aegon a little more. You slid beside him as he washed that night's dishes like the good little son he can be occasionally.

“What was all that about?”

He glanced up at you briefly from the task in front of him. “What was all what about?”

“You know…” you suddenly realised how humiliating it was to talk about sex related topics with your boyfriend's brother. “The magazine drama?”

A knowing smirk crossed the​ Targaryen’s lips. “Ah, you want to know why Aemond threw such a fit about his little secret being outed.” He placed a white salad bowl onto the drying rack before facing you. “Well there are a few theories I have about it — first and most simple of all: maybe he was just embarrassed to have his middle school perversions exposed to our parents. I’m not too convinced by that one though given the simple fact that you two have been fucking at practically every family event you have been invited to thus far.”

It was then your turn for your cheeks to heat up with embarrassment, the memory of being caught half naked by Rhaenyra in the shoe closet still haunts you.

“So that leads me to my second theory: he’s ashamed of you knowing about his librarian fetish.”

Your brows pinched together quizzically. “But that doesn’t make any sense, we’ve done way crazier things together than a little kinky roleplay.”

Aegon closed his eyes and let out a long exhale like he was about to be sick. “I can’t express to you how much I didn’t want to know that.” You smiled at him apologetically letting out a timid ‘sorry’.

The purple eyed boy rubbed at his temples before opening his eyes again. “Okay, I’m probably gonna throw up later and really regret asking you this but: have you ever been in charge? Ya know, taken on the reins while you two are…” He held his hand over his stomach dramatically. “Having sex?”

your gaze remained on the clean kitchen floor as you answered his question. “No…”

“Well there you go, now if you’ll excuse me I need to go drink this conversation from my memory.”

Since that night you have been on a mission: make Aemond’s fantasy come to life.

It started like all good missions did — with a bit of thorough research of course. Aemond is a stickler for details and you needed all of them if you were going to pull this off successfully. The magazine from all the detail you managed to pull out of poor Aegon was a Hustler and based on the years Aemond would have been in middle school you managed to comb through every edition of Hustler during that time until you found it: the librarian spread.

This took you to the next step in your plan: the outfit. There wasn’t really much to it, obviously most of it was pulled off the models body in favour of showing off what was underneath, but you focused on what remained. Petite framed glasses, a white button up (tossed aside on the desk she sat on but you figured she was probably wearing it at some point in time), black pencil skirt, stockings, garter belt, and most importantly no panties.

All of this planning and waiting had finally led up to today. You have a day off to get your shit in order and Aemond’s shift ends early. You are quite proud of yourself honestly. Who knew being a research nerd could come in handy in the bedroom?

Now it was just time to see if Aemond appreciates it as much as you do.

From your spot in the kitchen you hear your boyfriend's keys enter the lock to your apartment – your cue to bolt into the bedroom. Inside the bedroom your heart races, nerves suddenly getting the best of you. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thinks you’re trying to belittle him? What if he thinks you look stupid?

“Baby?” Aemond calls from inside the main hallway.

“In the bedroom!” Well there was no going back now. Fuck it. You press play on the playlist you curated and pose yourself sitting on top of Aemond’s desk, just like the picture.

The door creaks open, revealing the white haired man to you. For a second he doesn’t look up, good eye still locked onto his phone. “What’s with the mu–” His eye meets with yours and stops him in his tracks. The bag he is carrying falls off his shoulder. The way he blushed at the birthday dinner has nothing on the state of his face now.

A few long moments pass by and the two of you remain perfectly still. It makes the knot in your stomach worse. “Please say something.” You beg as Aemond remains gobsmacked.

“You– how did – wh – you look–” He babbles like a small child.

“Please make it intelligible.” you try to lighten the mood as your hands play with each other anxiously.

It seems to shake Aemond out of his idiotict trance. “You look like the librarian from my magazine.”

“I do.” You change your tone to sound calm and collected while feeling like you’re about to explode inside.

“Why?”

“I thought you might appreciate it if I initiated something for once.”

Aemond soaks in the vision before him giving you a swift up and down glance. The pit continues growing in you but you refuse to let it show. “Do you?” You ask, impersonating all those sexually confident people you’ve seen in movies.

“I do.” Thank fuck.

Aemond rips the jacket from off his shoulders, practically running across the bedroom to reach you. He pulls you up off the desk but before he has the chance to kiss you you put a stop to him. Both hands push his face away but remain holding it so he’s forced to look at you. “Not so fast there mister.”

His face is priceless, a perfect mixture of confusion and desperation. “From now on I’m in charge, alright? You are going to lay there like the good boy I know you can be, while the sweet little librarian takes good care of you, understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” His pupil dilates so wide you can hardly see the usual violet colour of his iris.

“Yes you understand who?”

A surprise smirk graces your boyfriend's beautiful face. “Yes, I understand…ma’am.”

“Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed.” In a flash Aemond’s clothes came flying off you like you have never seen before. You knew this would get him worked up but you did not expect him to be this into it.

As the Targaryen’s boxers hit the floor and he hits the plush mattress you pull open a bag holding your secret weapon for the night. With the ‘weapon’ hiding behind your back you move up the bed straddling his muscular thigh, sitting your bare cunt directly on his skin. His already hard cock twitches with excitement. “Fuck me, are you not wearing any–?”

“No.” you say plainly, like you did this everyday. “Now I’ve got a little something special for you before I completely blow your mind.”

“I really don’t see this getting better than it is but if you say so,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I trust you.”

From behind you you reveal it: a black rubber cock ring. “I wanna see you squirm.”

Aemond’s silver-blonde locks splay out onto the pillows as he plops his head back onto the pillows. “You are trying to kill me, woman.” He groans.

“Oh you love it.” With that you wrap your manicured hand around his cock, stretching the black rubber around the base.Your boyfriend jumps slightly at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“Wonderful, now can we get on with the main event, please?”

“Don’t forget baby, you’re not the one calling the shots tonight. Be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

“Always.” He smiles. You can’t help yourself against his charms, flopping onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. He wastes no time reciprocating it, taking the kiss from zero to a hundred faster than you can snap your fingers. His tongue slithering its way into your mouth. Your moans vibrated against his lips. Aemond was definitely the best kisser out of all the guys you had been with.

You reach your right hand up pushing it between the two of you, separating your lips. Aemond is clearly about to protest as you cut him off. “Spit.” No bullshit, just straight to the point. Based on the focused expression on his face the dots are taking their sweet time to connect in his pretty little head. Then it clicks and Aemond looks like a kid in a candy shop. He leans over your palm, saliva dripping down into your hand.

As the spit sinks across your palm you reach down to rub the wetness around his throbbing cock, stroking him up and down painfully slowly. Your other hand makes its way to his heavy balls, massaging them delicately in between your fingers.

You always loved playing with Aemond’s cock, but you were never allowed to take your time with it. It’s the one thing you despise about your boyfriend constantly being the one in charge. This was your time to truly tease him like he had been teasing you since you got together.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You eye him over the glasses perched on your nose.

“Fuck yes!” Aemond yelps with pure euphoria.

“You kiss your mothers with that mouth?” You continue your teasing, the sound of the shucking filling the bedroom.

“No but I really wanna kiss you again — ma’am.” You appreciate that even though he was struggling through it he still uses your proper title.

“Come here baby.” Like a man starved Aemond pushes himself up to meet your lips once more. Now was your chance. With Aemond distracted by the kiss you slowly pull away your hand from his sack to grab the remote for the cock ring off the dresser. Time to hope he enjoys this little extra surprise.

Bzzz…

Aemonds hips slam up into your fist in shock. “Jesus- fuck!”

“Now you know how I feel, huh?” You say recalling all the times that the blonde had used your vibrators on you.

The vibrations make his rod jump, shaking so fast your eyes can’t even comprehend its moving at all. God it’s hot. It had become far too normal for Aemond to watch you shake and your eyes roll back into your head with ecstasy but never you with him. It makes you feel powerful.

“F-feels so fucking good—” Aemond struggles to be coherent through the throws of pleasure.

Your hands pick up the pace, tightening your grip around him. His eyes are becoming more and more glassy as the moments pass by. Settling down till your stomach touches your knees, skirt (barely) coved ass poking out to the air. You kiss your way down his chest, leaving lipstick marks as you go until you reach the base of his vibrating cock.

Your mind swarms with ideas of how you can possibly torture him, but you decide against anymore prolonged suffering because of how desperately you need him in your mouth. You lick your way up to his leaking tip, keeping eye contact the entire time.

You run your hands over the sides of his hips as you suck the tip into your mouth. Preparing yourself with a deep breath through your nose, you dive down, deepthroating the rest of him into your throat. The tip of your nose touched the smooth base of his pubic bone. He always filled your holes so perfectly.

The sounds of your throat bobbing over him mixed with muted vibrations and Aemond’s moans make your cunt pulsate. You and Aemond are not new to dirty but something about this type of dirty got you going in a way you have never felt before.

“I’m gonna come—fuck! I’m gonna come down your perfect throat—” That is all you need to hear to pull yourself away from him (as much as you hate to).

Wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth you press the button on the remote of the cock ring, turning the vibrations off. Aemond whines like a scorned child. A sound you're not familiar with from him, but you could picture yourself getting used to.

“Did you really think that I was going to let you come that fast? I need to make you earn it first, baby.”

He looks up at you, begging. “How? Please just tell me how I’ll do anything, I just need to be inside you. I wanna be your good boy.” His voice cracks like he’s on the brink of tears.

“You have to address me properly.”

“Anything for you ma’am.”

“Now, beg.” You tug the base of his cock into your hands, jerking him off like you were in no rush.

“Please…?” His brows knit together like a kicked puppy.

You halt your movements and grip your boyfriend’s length, not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to make Aemond whine once more. “God do you even want me to fuck you? I said beg.” You say while pulling the almost sheer white top from your body, leaving the skirt and stockings in their place though.

“Please fuck ma’am? I promise I’ll be good for you, I need to be inside of you so bad. I love your cunt so much, I need it around me. I need to feel you come on me, please?”

“Aw, look at that, you are my good boy after all.” With that you are fully on top of him. Hands planted onto his firm chest while you lean forward to tug your skirt up, revealing the lack of underwear beneath them. With his eyes thoroughly distracted by your bare cunt you pull his aching tip inside of your soaking wet entrance.

You had sex not two days before now but somehow the stretch of Aemond inside was still a shock to your system. Maybe it’s because you had never had him like this, crying below you like just being inside you was already the greatest pleasure he could experience.

“Jesus—Christ!”

You take your time adjusting to him, gradually sinking lower towards his abdomen. Your clit grazes the black silicone, alerting you that you’ve reached the bottom. Pushing yourself all the way back up to his tip you slam down as you speak. “Did all that begging make your cock harder, Aem? Do you like begging for me?”

“So much…” The words are almost inaudible through his moans.

“You don’t come until I let you, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

It only eggs you on more. The sound of wet skin smacking and whimpering fill your ears. No thoughts pass through either of your heads.

The rocking of your hips became more frantic, desperate. Your soft wet walls hugging your boyfriend like a vice. Aemond’s reach up into the pillows, gripping so hard they change from pink to white instantly.

Your mask begins to fall at the pleasure building in your core. Legs shaking at either side of Aemond’s hips. Just like that you pull the blonde up from his horizontal position, his grip falling from the pillows. Lips crashing together in a blur as sweat pools down both your backs. “I’m so fucking close, can I come, please?” His begging is muffled against your mouth.

“Soon, I promise. Rub my clit for me baby?” He obeyed immediately. His pointer and index finger caressing against your pulsing clit. “Fuck yes! so good Aem.” Your hands wander to his hair, like you are the master and he’s your little puppet.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sensation of his lips against yours mixed with Aemond’s precise movements against your bud send you hurdling towards your orgasm. “M’coming, come for me aem, do it for me baby—” Aemond follows fast behind you, crying out your name as he reaches his peak. His cock painting your insides with his cum.

You come back down to earth together, a jumble of words spilling from both of your lips: I love you, thank you, so good, kiss me.

You collapse into a puddle on your boyfriend’s sweat soaked chest. His fingers travel through your hair as you both catch your breath. As he tucks the lock behind your ears he finally speaks coherently. “So, are you gonna tell me how you managed to replicate the exact outfit from the original photo I used to wank off to or…?”

You smile, lifting your head to face him and his pink flushed cheeks. “A great magician never reveals their secrets.”

[hux-and-gay]

Kylux Short Shorts Fest 2024: Day 4: Otherworldly

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pls reblog I dont have Ao3 yet

Part: 1/ at least 2

BenArmie folklore AU

(I have a lot of WIPs for the shorts fest, I know it’s late now but I got busy so we’ll see how many I get to posting)

Ben ran through the woods as fast as his feet could carry him, mud splattered across his thighs, stumbling over roots, leaves getting tangled in his thick black hair. He felt so free, the cold air assaulting his cheeks and nose, turning them rosy pink. He could smell the river ahead so he dashed forward almost laughing with joy as he ran further and further from the den, never looking back. When he came to the river he stopped only to catch his breath before wading into the water, dancing, splashing his face, not caring his trousers were getting soaked. 

“What are you doing?” A quiet voice asked from the opposite shore. Ben ceased his frolicking and turned to look at the creature, a small boy with a mess of ginger hair, pale skin dotted with freckles, a mask of a fox adorning his face. 

“I’m wading, it’s fun. You should join me.” He held a hand out to the boy smiling eagerly. He had never met another boy his age, and he looked so sweet. 

“My father told me not to speak to strangers.” He said, looking at Ben hesitantly fiddling with the small satchel slung over his shoulder. His baggy shorts and thin undershirt emphasized his small frame, and his arms and feet were wrapped in cloth bandages. Ben didn’t think any of them, it was probably easier to run with his feet protected. 

“My name's Ben. There now I'm not a stranger.”

“I- I suppose you’re right.” He smiled, taking his hand and tenderly stepping into the water. He shivered. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah but it’s nice.” Ben said, spinning in a circle kicking up spray as he did so. 

The fox boy flinched, backing away from the splash.  “If you say so.” 

“Oh look! Baby fish!” Ben exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the water rippling around their feet. 

“Oh! They're biting my feet!” He bent down a little looking at them curiously lazily following their swimming patterns with one of his thin fingers. 

“Hmm maybe I can catch some…” Ben said rubbing his chin and glancing around, being careful not to move his feet as not to disturb them. “but I don’t have a bucket. Oh well.” He glanced at the water again and something caught his eye. “Wait, look, by your foot, there’s a rock!”

The boy looked back up at him unimpressed. “There are a lot of rocks.”

Ben rolled his eyes, and pointed, which admittedly wasn’t very helpful. “The flat one.”

The boy picked up the flat rock and handed it to him. “What’s so special about it, it just looks like a rock.”

“It’s perfect for skipping.” He said rolling over the rock in his hand running his fingers across the wet surface.  “Do you know how to skip rocks?”

“No.”

“Oh well I’ll show you. It’s just like…” He tossed the rock and it immediately sank with a loud plop as it hit the water. “oh- I Guess I’m not very good at skipping rocks.” He snorted, laughing to cover up his embarrassment. 

The boy had been watching him intently. He picked up another flat rock from the water and tossed it,“Like this?” It made three skips before sinking. 

“Oh wow! That was so cool!” Ben said patting him on the back aggressively and smiling with awe. 

“Not really.” 

“You aren’t very enthusiastic about anything, are you?” He chuckled. 

“What’s the use of a rock if you’re not going to keep it?” The boy pointed out picking up another rock from the water and briefly examining it before dropping it back. 

“Oh! I didn’t think of it that way.” He thought about what the boy had said. It was pretty witty, I mean why would you not want to keep a rock? Rocks are cool. He turned back to him smiling “That’s really smart actually, you’re really neat! You like collecting rocks?”

“Special ones” He said, shrugging.  “Some say there's gold in this river, but I’ve only ever found pyrite.”

“Pyrite?”

“Fake gold…” He pulled out a shiny silver stone from his satchel and held it out to Ben. “Like this”

“It’s so pretty!” Ben beamed, taking it gently in his hands looking it over. 

“You can have it, it’s useless.” The boy answered dryly. 

“Who cares, it's pretty!” Ben pocketed the stone feeling very accomplished to be in the possession of such a pretty gem, whether it was worth something or not. 

The boy looked down at his feet, maybe he was watching the fish again, they had returned after being scared away by Ben’s failed attempt at rock skipping. “My father says it’s no use to keep useless things unless you can use them for a purpose.” He stated meekly. 

“Sounds wise.” Ben wasn’t entirely sure he understood what all that had meant, but it sounded very adult. 

“No.”

“Oh-“

“Where’s your mask?” The boy asked Suddenly. 

“In my bag.” Ben replied, patting the sack slung over his shoulder. He didn’t like wearing his mask, it made his face sweat, and it was harder to see. 

“Isn’t that dangerous? Someone could steal it.” He said, peeking around Ben to see just a tiny bit of the mask peeking out of the sack. 

“Don’t tell me you believe those stories about “whoever steals your mask owns your soul.” He laughed with his hands on his hips. 

“Don’t you?” Ben could tell he was genuine. 

Ben shook his head. “Of course not, parents just tell their kids that so that they get scared.” He insisted, patting the shorter boy on the head. 

“I guess…” he stated hesitantly trying to fix his ruffled hair as if it hadn’t been needlessly tangled prior. 

“So What are you doing out by the river on your own?” Ben asked, tilting his head. 

“Foraging, for dinner.” The boy answered, holding open his satchel to show various mushrooms, roots, and plants inside. 

“Oh right, Foxes are Omnivores.” Ben nodded remembering what little he knew of the other creatures. 

“Yes. My father is hunting.” He nodded, closing his satchel and securing it on his hip again. “What about you?”

“I’m running away.” Ben admired nonchalantly. 

“Running away? Won’t your parents be angry?” The boy questioned. 

“It doesn’t matter if they never find me.” Ben added smirking. 

“They won’t hunt you down?” The boy seemed confused. 

“Maybe they’ll try. But I’m good at hiding.” He smiled confidently. “You could run away with me if you want.” Ben wouldn’t mind having another boy his age with him on his travels. 

“I can’t.” The boy answered, scratching at his bandaged arm as he looked down again. 

“That’s okay.” Though Ben had to admit he was slightly disappointed. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Ben asked. “You know you can take off your mask, right?”

“No thank you.” The boy answered simply. 

“What? Afraid I’ll steal it?” Ben chuckled smirking. 

“I’m just being careful.” The boy added, instinctively placing hand on the intracuite fox design.  “I could easily steal yours if I wanted to.” He pointed out. 

Ben smirked, “Oh alright then, try!” He pulled his mask out of his bag and held it behind his back. 

The boy didn’t even wait a second he lunged at Ben who just barely side stepped away trying to stay facing the fox at all times. They chased each other in circles around the river splashing up water, running, jumping, growling, laughing, soon the sun was setting. Ben held the mask above his head. “You’ll never get it now!” He laughed, “You’re too small!” He added teasing. The boy grunted but instead of trying to jump for the mask like Ben had expected he dove for his legs, knocking him off his feet and tacking him, pinning him down in the water. 

“Woah-“ Ben exclaimed breathlessly looking up at the boy who sat on his chest with amazement. He yanked the mask from Ben’s hand and held it in the air triumphantly. Then he brought it down to look at it and froze. Ben could see the goose bumps on his skin, but maybe it was just the water, they had been thoroughly soaked now. 

“you’re a wolf.” He said quietly. Ben couldn’t read his expression mostly hidden behind the mask, side his mouth. 

“Is that a problem?” Ben asked, confused. 

“I suppose not.” He answered, feeling the mask over in his hands. “We’re both predators.”

“Yes but I’m the Apex predator!” Ben said proudly, sitting up in the water and flexing his muscles. “That means everything is Prey to me.” he snarled jokingly.

Suddenly the boy shoved the mask back into his arms. “Take it back!” He insisted urgently. 

“What? But you stole it!” Ben exclaimed, confused. 

“ I don’t want it! I don’t want your soul!” He seemed distressed. 

Ben shook his head. “Those are just Myths, it’s okay they don’t mean anything.” He smiled trying to reassure him.

“But I don’t want it!” He reinforced. 

“No, you stole it fair and square and you should keep it.” He retorted, sounding slightly annoyed that he wouldn't accept the prize he rightfully won. “I’m sure your father would be proud you stole a wolf's mask.” At the mention of his father the boy seemed to make a face Ben couldn’t quite read. He then dropped the mask into the water beside them, purposely. 

“Well, I dropped it so that means you can steal it back!”

“You really care about this mask thing don’t you?” He asked rhetorically, shaking his head laughing. 

“Well, if it is just myths as you say it is, then it wouldn’t make sense for me to keep it. Remember, I’m not supposed to keep useless things.”

Ben thought about it and nodded to himself before speaking. “I don’t think anything is completely useless.”

“maybe…” he looked like he would say something more but he was cut off by a voice calling from the distance. 

“Armitage!”

The fox boy turned to the sound quickly and scrambled up to his feet. “I have to go” He rushed out of the water and grimaced at the sight of the wet stain on his satchel. 

“wait!” Ben called out to him. 

“yes?” The boy said, turning back. 

“If you're not going to take off your mask, can you at least tell me what color your eyes are?” Ben asked curiously. 

“green.”

And with that he turned back and walked into the trees disappearing from view.

I had been listening to Harpy Hare, by Yaelokre and I found a Picrew where you could make a Yaelokre OC I got bored so I decided to use the fox and wolf mask to make Hux and Kylo and from there I got the idea from this AU. It now has a whole bunch of lore, so we’ll see how far this takes me.

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@lessdenied @fives-ren @jaynesilver @thegeneralorder @diabollicallyangelic

@existing-sadly

@theosb0rnway

@dragonflies-draw-flame @hpdmism @fridayincarnate @tomatette

@transmasc-vampire-is-tired

@bostarsky

@kyluxshortshorts

[heartofjasmina]

Glory

Toshinori always feels a twinge of embarrassment when he comes to your place. Your “place” being a hole drilled into the wall of one of the stalls at a questionable sex toy shop, your mouth open and waiting for the next customer to slide through.

He’d first stopped by in between missions. The only way he could get off with his amount of stamina and his size was with another person, as the collection of broken pocket pussies could show. The top hero in his country, All Might, would be easily recognized if he paid for a normal sex worker so he mostly visited glory holes— but yours?

The first time he’d felt you take his entire length down your throat he’d cum right then and there. You hadn’t gagged once and swallowed his seed with such obedience and need it made him hard all over again. When he collected himself, panting and heaving from the force of his orgasm, you pulled yourself off him with a lewd ‘pop’ that made him shiver. “Come back anytime, big guy. Your dick is a fucking masterpiece.”

Your voice was husky and low, probably from all the throat fuckings you’d taken throughout the night. It made him both aroused— and jealous if he was being honest with himself.

He was hooked.

After every mission he couldn’t but wonder, were you thinking of him the way he was thinking about you? And more often than not he talked himself into making a “quick” stop at your place.

“Hey there big guy, long time no see.” He could see you smile through the hole, suddenly curious what your face looked like. Your lips were full and glistening with lipgloss that smelled faintly of vanilla.

But then you took his cock into your mouth and all ability to analyze melted away. You sucked him sloppy, moaning without a hint of shame, and with his super hearing he could easily detect the squelch of you fucking yourself.

“God fucking-” The thought of you getting off to him overriding his logic.

“Name?” You pulled off his dick briefly, stopping the motion of your fingers inside you to ask your question breathleslly.

“Toshinori.” It came out as a whisper, and for the first time in a while he wondered when the last time was that he had someone to ask him his name.

“Toshi, then. My name is Zara.” You breathed out and tapped the hole. “Now give me that beautiful dick of yours. I’m not done.”

“Yes, Zara.” He answered so sincerely it made your pussy ache to be filled with the dick in front of you.

Once more his glorious dick was fed through the hole, and you were once again in awe of just how perfect it was. Thick and flushed pink with shaved balls and a little tuft of blonde hair at its base.

You took your time the second time around, kissing his shaft’s head and licking up the precum that leaked from the slit. It made you smile on the inside to hear his breathing grow more and more uneven, the way you could see his thighs trembling slightly.

Only then did you take his full length down your throat again.

“Fuck me, my throat.” You whined as you stuffed your fingers inside your cunt again, the burning need for him only growing. “Need it— fuck I want it.”

Toshinori was beyond happy to give you what you needed, starting to fuck himself into your beautiful goddamn throat. It was better than any pussy he’d ever been inside. It only made him wonder what your pussy must be like, what you must be like.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum,” he warned as you took him all the way down and tongued his balls at the same time.

You hummed in approval and made no move to stop sucking him as usual, waiting patiently like the good girl you were for your treat.

The thing about Toshi’s loads is that they overwhelmed you. You had to scramble to swallow fast enough to take in the sheer amount of semen he dumped down your throat.

When he pulled out of your mouth you gasped for air, but you also felt your orgasm wash over you as you whined and slumped against the wall.

“That’s it, make your sweet little pussy feel good.” Toshinori couldn’t help but encourage you through it, wishing to hell there wasn’t a wall between you.

“Fuck, Toshi,” and damned if his name sounded better from your lips than anyone else. You finally let yourself relax only to be surprised by one last request.

“Let me taste.” You froze, questioning his seriousness, but then you saw his mouth opening like you always do for him.

Cunt burning, you stood and fed him your fingers drenched in your juices. His tongue greedily sought out every drop of your essence, sucking and licking your fingers clean.

FInally when he’d had his fill he pulled off your fingers, kissing your fingertips before standing and adjusting his pants.

“Until next time, Zara.” He murmured and you smiled to yourself.

“Till next time, Toshi.”

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

As per post I saw about you wrote about imagining Hero crying over deleted unrelated posts -

I just got a stark imagery of Hero being a hoarder in a "but what if I need this later" way, like adding a loose wire/charger/cord thing to a box already full of them (but organized neatly) or other things like that.

I found it funny and maybe this blog would appreciate the contrasting ideas that is Hero being clean and organized (as per his side of the room) while being a hoarder at the same time. How would he deal 😂

Hi there! Thank you so much for your ask! We absolutely love getting to talk to fellow Hero enthusiasts and were so excited you wanted to share some Hero thoughts with us! (A/N: I (Acacia) am briefly breaking my hiatus to take this one because I actually wrote about Hero’s “secret” messy junk drawer in a fic once. ^^ Needless to say, I really vibe with this idea and it fits really well with my own personal headcanons & perceptions of Hero as a character!)

This is such a fun headcanon and given that Hero is so practical, it definitely makes sense to me. I can absolutely imagine him being the type to agonize over throwing things out sometimes because, exactly like you said, he’d question “What if I or somebody else needs this someday?” even if he already has plenty of whatever it is already. Your imagery of Hero with the overflowing box of cords is awesome! Love that very much!! I can totally imagine Kel just casually asking him “hey you got an extension cord?” and Hero pulls out an entire box with 20+ cords in it 😂😂 Perfect!

In my mind, Hero is also very responsible and kind of thrifty/discerning about how he spends his money, at least on himself. We see in the canon he’s extremely generous when spending on other people such as when he gives Sunny $10 to buy flowers for his mom even though they only cost $2 a piece, but as with a lot of Hero’s kindnesses, I don’t think he extends that generosity to himself (perhaps why Kel is so insistent on buying him the cookbook as a present since he knows it’s a luxury Hero would enjoy but wouldn’t buy for himself, but I digress) I can see his responsibility playing into the hoarding too with him thinking “It would be irresponsible to throw this out because I might need it someday and if I do I’d just have to buy a new one.”

As to how he would deal given the fact that he is so neat, tidy, and organized, I agree he would try to keep his collections organized as best he can, but I also agree it would be hard to deal with overflow, so perhaps they end up in some messy junk drawers somewhere which are likely kept “secret” on account of them being so messy (not because they hold anything embarrassing).

Everything of Hero’s is so perfectly organized on the surface and, to be fair, often under the surface (i.e. I imagine his sock drawer is probably color coded), so you likely couldn’t tell just by looking at Hero’s living space that he had a tendency to hoard things as everything is so clean and minimalistic, like a room in a catalog. But then he has this secret messy drawer (or in this case multiple drawers) filled with the randomest old things like a bunch of cords, batteries, papers, and other odds and ends he thinks might be useful later…

He hides these disorganized drawers because they’re a mess and he’s Hero—everything about him is perfect. A mess of any kind even in a hidden drawer nobody will probably ever see is unlike him, but I’m inclined to think maybe it isn’t that unlike him after all. Hero’s room looks perfect, but there’s still a small messy space, a part of it that’s less than perfect—a part that’s real and lived in, just like Hero himself in a way. Hero appears perfect, but under all his accomplishments, accolades, and successes, his role as this idolized big brother to the group, and Sunny’s idealized view of him in Headspace, there is part of him that’s just a little bit messy, a part of him that’s just little bit less than perfect. A part of him that’s real.

He’d rather everyone think of him as perfect and plays along with pretending he is because he doesn’t want anyone to worry about him, but the truth is, he doesn’t have to be perfect and pristine all the time and it would probably be better for him if he wasn’t. He deserves to be a little messy, to have an unorganized drawer or a whole collection of extra cords he “might need later.” He deserves to be human.

Thank you so much again for the ask! Our ask box is always open for respectful Hero thoughts, questions, discussion, and/or appreciation so please don’t be shy, fellow Hero enthusiasts. We love hearing from you! Take care 💙

[darkness-and-books]

A bit thorny

💙Leonard McCoy x gn!reader💙

⚠️: mentions of small injury

word count: 562

You had gone out on a simple exploratory mission, you know basic stuff: Can you breathe here, will the inhabitants kill you, are there even any inhabitants, can you eat the plants. So far it was pretty chill, no one had been eaten alive, you went out with three redshirts and still had three redshirts, which was impressive because they seemed to have a knack for being the first ones down.

Finding that there were no inhabitants, but that there were plenty of plants, everyone, botany department and otherwise, had been assigned to collecting plant samples. With no perceived danger, the landing party had been permitted to separate into smaller groups, so of course Y/N and Leonard had gone off together.

Kirk had made his jokes about the pairing, but quickly shut up when Bones shot back that, “We all already know you’re going off with Spock, and you aren’t gonna get any real work done!”. Certainly Jim had been a bit embarrassed, but everyone else had a good laugh at the captain’s expense.

Y/N knelt down by a vine of blue flowers, “This would be very pretty to keep in your quarters,” they softly commented, looking up at Leonard for his reaction. Leonard held his tricorder up to its leaves, “I don’t think so,” He said, focusing on the tricorder reading, “It reads as poisonous,” he informed. 

“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed, hopping back from the plant and putting on gloves. “But,” Y/N started as they knelt back down to take a sample, “Your quarters could still do with a plant to liven the place up a bit,” Y/N remarked. “That’s what I have you for,” Leonard chuckled, Y/N looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well I can’t sit there and look pretty all the time you know,” Y/N said as they closed the petri dish around the sample. Moving over a few inches, Y/N went to inspect a different plant that didn’t have flowers at all, but rather thorns.

“What about this one for your quarters?” Y/N asked, briefly tugging at one of the branches to indicate which plant she was referring to. “It’s just like you, I’m sure you’d be great roommates,” Y/N remarked as they attempted to avoid being stuck with thorns.

“Ha, ha,” Leonard replied humourlessly, lightly kicking up dirt in Y/N’s direction. They coughed a bit as they inhaled some of the dust that was now floating around, reflexively squeezing their hand around the branch they had been holding in the process.

“Crap,” Y/N bit out in shock at the sensation of the thorns puncturing the palm of their hand. Leonard kneeled by their side to have a look at Y/N’s hand.

“You’re in the botany department, I would have thought you knew not to touch these things,” He lightly scolded as he began cleaning the small puncture wound.

“Maybe,” Leonard began as he wrapped up Y/N’s hand, “It’s time to go back before you hurt yourself too much more,”

“Mmmm,” Y/N considered the idea briefly, “Is there a nap and cuddles involved in this going back  plan?” they asked, now holding their hand to their chest.

“Of course that’s involved,” Leonard promised. He pulled Y/N’s hand away from their chest and planted a delicate kiss firmly on their palm.

This sat in drafts sooo long and I finally gave it an ending 🥲

[auroraclangen]

AURORACLAN - MOON 15 (EVENT)

EVENT: Weaseldaisy decorates Weedpatch’s nest with flowers to surprise them!

(Sooo I’ve decided that every so often, I’ll illustrate an event like this, to help build up the personalities of each cat, and to add more plots/subplots into this clan’s storyline :D)

Weaseldaisy was just preparing to place the last flower when he heard the den entrance rustle behind him, and he jumped, frantically trying to think of an excuse for not being on patrol. “Weaseldaisy? Is that you?” It was Weedpatch, of all cats. The flowers weren’t even ready yet! Oh StarClan, why couldn’t he get things right for once? She blinked at him, her blue eyes slightly narrowing. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you meant to be on a hunting patrol with Skyhowl and Dappledpaw?” Her voice was laced with an accusing tone, and he flinched, wishing he had thought of an excuse. He was such a mouse-brain! ”I’m sorry...” His voice was muffled by the flower in his jaws, and so he let it drop to the ground, slowly meeting her intense blue gaze with a wince. “I just...wanted to.. um, I wanted to decorate your nest. These flowers are so pretty - like you - and I... well, I wanted it to be a surprise, but...” He trailed off, feeling his cheeks burn red with embarrassment. Weedpatch took an uncertain step back, her eyes beginning to widen. “Oh...” She looked briefly disconcerted, then lifted her sleek tail with a delighted grin. “That’s nice of you! I’ll ask Roachpaw and Dewpaw to collect some flowers for the rest of the clan while they’re out helping Streaktail gather herbs... the flowers are so pretty, I know everyone else would love them too for their nests.” Her ears twitched. “Anyways, I have to go organise the rest of the patrols now. Thanks for the idea!” She nodded at him, eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion, then she turned around and bounded out of the den, leaving Weaseldaisy to watch her go, bewildered. She had somehow completely misinterpreted what he’d said, and still didn’t seem to have any idea about his feelings for her. But at least she seemed happy with him, and that was what was important to him. He definitely didn’t want her to think he was stupid. Weaseldaisy glanced down at the flower he’d dropped, blinking nervously. Someday he would work up the nerve to tell her how he felt, but until then, he was fine just being her friend.

[farthest-light]

Chapter 1 - Page 7

Havok entered the room nonchalantly. He had to take a breather in his own room to cool his head. He saw Finn lying on her back next to Chime, who looked a bit concerned for the unresponsive Woobat, and Byrn who sat a small distance away from the bed. “So, little bell. I take it you’ve met Byrn and Finn here. I hope you like them.” As he spoke up and approached the bed, Finn suddenly sprung up and flew to Havok’s side. She completely missed the rest of the conversation Byrn and Chime had, from the embarrassment she had suffered. “I like her, she seems nice!” Finn said. Byrn just sighed. “Yes, of course you would, furball. But this is about her decision.” He stepped closer to Chime and looked her in the eyes expectantly. “Have you made your decision, little bell?” Chime forced the words out of her mouth. “I’m not going to join your team!” She called, then it felt like a weight blocked her from speaking anything else. Havok closed his eyes and his expression darkened. “I see. It saddens me to hear that. You may stay here and rest up for as long as you want. Once you’re ready I’ll carry you to the nearest town.” He turned around, trying to be as composed as he could. I knew it, I messed up. I’m sorry, little bell, that I couldn’t help you any further. Chime tried not to make eye contact with anyone else. She felt that especially Finn would be sad about it, and she couldn’t bear to see it. “Actually, I’d like to leave now. If that’s ok?” “Very well.” Havok said. “Follow me, I’ll make sure to find a nice place for you in town.” As Havok and Chime walked up to the entrance, Finn and Byrn walked behind them. Byrn didn’t look too comfortable with the conversation he just had, but Finn looked completely destroyed. Finn couldn’t handle it anymore. She dashed in front of Chime and blocked her path. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be so pushy! Please, will you tell us why you don’t want to join? Was it my fault? I’m so sorry!” Chime was dazed. She moved around in shock, jingling a bit in the process as she tried to collect her thoughts. “No. NO!! It wasn’t you, you’re really sweet. It’s just that I- I-.” She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “I DON’T DESERVE TO BE PART OF A TEAM LIKE THIS!” She shouted. Everything around her went quiet. Havok, Byrn and Finn looked in shock at her.

Before anyone was able to find the right words, they heard a loud yawn behind them. “Who cares about what you deserve. I think I really deserve some sleep, and I’m not getting it, SO COULD YOU ALL PLEASE BE QUIET!” Flunk shouted. He rubbed his eyes again. I just want a good days rest. Is that so much to ask? Everyone looked at the Salandit in surprise. Havok wanted to go back and reprimand Flunk for being so rude, but he stopped himself when he noticed Chime’s expression. Something about the atmosphere was different. Chime had a saddened look on her face, but she pushed her eyes and mouth shut and briefly shook herself, which resounded in bell noises within her body. Chime looked at Havok’s confused face and spoke up: “I think I changed my mind. I want to join your team, if you’ll still have me after all of this.” A big smile formed on Havok’s face, but Finn started first with her hoorays. “Of course we’ll have you. I made you this offer in the first place!” He turned his head back to the cave and shouted into it, the echoes of the dragon’s booming voice bouncing from wall to wall. “You hear that, everyone? Team Nighteyes has a new member!” Havok and Finn danced around the overwhelmed Chime, while Byrn sat still watching over them. He didn’t cheer, but he had a smile on his face. Flunk stood still with his arms fallen to the floor and his mouth agape. “What? No! I’m still against it, I don’t want her on the team!” But nobody heard him, or at least nobody bothered to pay attention to him. “Whatever, I’m going back to sleep with a pillow on my head.” Not wanting any further part in this he waddled back into his room and buried himself in blankets and pillows. “Wait here,” Havok called. “I’ll check if we still have a team ribbon left for you!” With all of his energy back, he pranced into the cave towards his room. “I’m so happy you changed your mind!” Finn said. “It’ll be much livelier here with another Pokemon around, I’m sure we’ll be great friends.” Chime smiled. “I hope so!” Byrn walked up to her. “You do seem like a good Pokemon to me. I’m happy to have you around.” Chime grimaced, but tried to keep up her smile. She still wasn’t so sure about that, but she couldn’t back down now. She wanted this. Havok promptly returned. “I’m sorry, looks like we’re out of ribbons or scarves. I’ll have to ask Elli to commission a new one for you once they visit us next time.” The big bat dragon yawned loudly and tears formed in his eyes as he looked up at the sun. “Ugh, the sun’s burning hotter than usual today.” He looked down at Finn and Byrn, who looked excited, but equally as tired. “Well, little bell. Team Nighteyes mostly operates at… you know… night. We’re taking tonight off as a welcome, then tomorrow night we’ll start our training back up. Rest up well, being part of an exploration team is no easy job.” Chime looked up at Havok. She knew of exploration and rescue teams, but she never expected to join one herself. She wasn’t sure if she was even cut out for a job like this, but maybe this was a way for her to actually help others. “Sleep time!” Finn called. She brushed by Chime and tugged on her arm. “Follow me, there’s still enough space in my room!” And so Team Nighteyes slept the rest of the day, with a new member among their ranks - ready to rise at night!

END OF CHAPTER 1

Previous | Next

[antiodote]

she sells jewellery from her window and he happens to walk by

~~~

Harry was sure this was one of those few days he could describe as absolutely perfect.

He was taking a stroll through the quieter neighbourhoods of Amsterdam; a ritual he had become accustomed to in order to calm his mind before a show. The weather was mild but the sun relentlessly kissed his skin, so much so that he was sure he would develop a tan on his arms. He was already dreading the inevitable tan lines from his shirt.

He crossed another bridge, possibly the tenth, twentieth or millionth bridge he came across during his walk, and rounded the corner into another picture perfect street, lined with slanted houses. Some homes, a few art galleries and the odd flower shop came into his view, the music playing through his headphones adding to the picturesque nature of it all. He thought of buying a bouquet of tulips to put on the empty coffee table in his hotel room, the thought however quickly vanished as the reality of his situation kicked in. He was leaving within a couple of days and he wouldn’t be able to take the pretty petals along with him on his remaining journey through Europe. It saddened him, but only a little bit. It had been way too long since he had gifted himself, or anyone else, some flowers and it made him wonder when he last had the opportunity to just sit down and admire the beauty of anything. He made a mental note to slow down every once in a while.

Lost in his head he kept walking. Walking until something else colourful caught his eye. He turned his head to face a small window. At first he saw nothing but his own reflection, but after shifting his shades to rest on top of his head, he was suddenly greeted by an assortment of beads in all kinds of different shapes, colours and sizes. He then noticed the little jewellery stand, on which rested a collection of different necklaces, all made of said beads. He admired them a little while longer and suddenly wished that a particularly pretty one, made out of a combination of ocean blue and sunshine yellow beads which were arranged at random, was in his possession. He wondered where this person got it from and briefly thought about just knocking on said window, in hopes of finding an answer. Before he had any chance to further dwell on it though, something else caught his attention.

“You like ‘em?”

Harry whipped his head towards the voice, feeling like he had been caught doing something out of line. He was staring into a strangers window after all. He was faced with a young woman, possibly a few years younger than him, sitting on a chair on the balcony that seemingly belonged to the same apartment that he was caught staring into. Embarrassment suddenly numbed his body, thus delaying his response.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, do that. I was just looking at the necklaces. Sorry.”

Apologising profusely seemed like the only appropriate response, and maybe it was because of his familiarity with British culture, but he was sure that being that close to someone’s living space must be terribly inappropriate. He was surprised, however, at the woman’s reaction.

She smiled.

“No need to be embarrassed, you didn’t do anything wrong! Quite the opposite actually.” Harry was left a bit confused, both at her ability to read him and her response in and of itself, and though he probably shouldn’t, he found himself asking: “The opposite? What do you mean?”. The woman smiled again, probably amused by Harry’s confusion. “People are supposed to look at the jewellery, that’s why I put it there. I sell them.” Harry suddenly felt his embarrassment wash away and found it replaced by glee as he could possibly get his hands on the beautiful necklace after all. “You make those?” he said, pointing at the infamous window, “They’re really beautiful. Very unique. You’re quite talented!”. God knows why he was starting to ramble, but he thought it might have something to do with the beautiful girl who makes the beautiful jewellery.

She tilted her head to the side, her hair cascading over the back of her shoulders, and smiled once again.“Thank you very much! You’re too nice. Would you like to buy one?”. Her reaction to his compliments radiated a level of authenticity that he hadn’t experienced in quite a while, making his heart flutter just a bit. He tried ignoring the uncomfortable sensation in his chest in order to keep the conversation going. “I’d love to, actually. Do you have a shop, or a, uh, boutique?”. She shook her head in the same moment as she pointed her hand towards Harry’s direction. “You’re standing in front of it!”

At that, Harry whipped his head back towards the window and suddenly felt confused all over again. “You sell them…here? Oh, wait, is it like an etsy thing?”. She couldn’t help but be amused by his string of confusion, but decided to let him out of his misery.

“No, I don’t have the time to manage that. I sell the jewellery here! Y���know, from the window.“.

A brief silence fell between them as Harry had to take a moment to process her words. His brows furrowed,“You sell handmade jewellery from your bedroom window?”. Once again, she found herself endeared by his demeanour and noted the fact that nobody had ever questioned her about her little hobby before. Sure it was odd, but it was fun and it worked out. “It’s my living room window, actually. Wouldn’t want people staring into my bedroom, to be honest.”.

Once Harry realised she was serious, he turned towards her once more, suddenly feeling a lot more intrigued. “Do you even sell anything? I mean, how does this even work?”. He crossed his arms over his chest and now his face morphed into an expression of amusement. “To be fair,” she replied, “it’s usually grannies who see them and ask where to get one, so you definitely don’t fit my usual clientele. And they go about it the same way as you, actually. They’re strolling through the city and they happen to be quite eye catching, so they stop to look. And since I work from home, I’m usually around to answer their questions. People are so amused by the concept that they almost always end up buying something. It’s a hobby, if anything, but it works, y’know? Plus, I get to talk to a lot of interesting people.”

Harry nods along to her explanation and silently wished for her to keep talking. Her aura was quite inviting, it radiated the kind of warmth that made him want to move closer and listen to her talk for hours. And for a brief second he thought about how how his mother would love her. Kicking the borderline creepy thought out if his mind, he continued: “Seems to work quite well, huh? I’m definitely intrigued.” He gave her a genuine smile and now she was the one feeling a bit flustered. What a pretty smile he had.

“Which one caught your eye then?”. He wordlessly pointed at the culprit. “I love the colours. Looks like something I’d wear quite a lot. How much do you sell them for?” She listened to him talk, all while staring at the green of his eyes, suddenly wishing she had a piece to match it. She’d want to wear it around her neck, for whatever reason. “Y’know what? Hold on-“

She got up mid sentence, seemingly in a rush to retrieve the infamous item. When she appeared at the window in front of which Harry was currently still standing, she bent down slightly to carefully remove it from it’s stand. And oh so briefly, their eyes met, and they just stayed like that for a moment. Much too short for anyone else to notice, but it felt like everything else had stopped around them for a bit too long. They smiled at each other through the window, finding humour in the situation. Before either of them could dwell on it, she turned around to head towards the balcony once more, clad with the piece of jewellery that started all of this.

As she returned, Harry suddenly realised that he didn’t have any cash on him. He cursed at himself momentarily, but before he had the opportunity to mention it, she reached out to hand him the necklace. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Stunned by her suggestion, he immediately protested. “What? No, I can’t just take it, no way. I don’t have any cash on me but I can transfer you the money, or I’ll run to an ATM or something-“

“Hey, shut up and take it. I won’t take no for an answer, okay?”

Silence fell between them once more as Harry first looked at the piece of jewellery, and then at her. The sunlight shone onto the street from behind him, hitting her face and illuminating it in a way that made her look somewhat ethereal. What stood out to him more though, was the sincerity in her gaze. She wanted this.

And so did Harry.

“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back, promise!“ And so he started jogging back towards where he came from, leaving her stunned in her place. She thought he was probably gonna get the money despite her protests, or maybe he changed his mind and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But after about five minutes, he returned, and what she saw shocked her to no end. She threw her head back in laughter, not being able to believe what she was witnessing.

He came back with a bouquet of the happiest tulips she had ever seen.

“What are these for, are you crazy?!” and she kept laughing in disbelief; a sound which Harry wanted to hear so, so much more of. “Hey, a gift for a gift, deal?” He extended the bouquet in her direction, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. Once again, they just stared at each other for a bit, before she broke the silence. “Okay, fine. You win.” Harrys smile grew wider, dimples popping at his victory, and they finally exchanged their items. Harry held the necklace in his hand, suddenly his most prized possession, and watched her smell the flowers curiously. He put it on carefully and she felt her chest swell with pride. It did look very nice on him.

“Thank you for these, by the way. I can’t remember the last time I got flowers from anyone. You’re very sweet.”

Her confession made both of them blush, but for different reasons. He briefly found himself wanting to gift her flowers for any and every occasion, just to make her happy.

“My pleasure, really. Thank you for the necklace, I don’t think I’ll take it off anytime soon.” and though it sounded like a joke, nothing about his statement was even slightly untrue.

They exchanged appreciative nods and then, more silence. They realised that their encounter came to its natural conclusion, and though the other person wasn’t aware, they both wished to be in each other’s presence just a tad bit longer. But alas, duty calls. Sadly.

“Right, um, I should probably get going. Um, thank you again! It was lovely to meet you.” Harry confessed. She selfishly found herself wanting him to stay, but she knew that she wouldn’t get her way this time. A shame really. “Alright, you better get going then, I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now.” and they laughed again. “It was lovely to meet you too, by the way. Take care, yeah?” They nodded once more, bidding their goodbyes. “You too, love.” And thus he walked away. And she watched him leave.

Harry thanked himself for slowing down this time.

~~~

1.6k words, not proofread (sorry!)

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[vicious-vixxxen]

SugarDaddy!Enji X SugarBaby!Male Reader <3

Not entirely sure where this came from, but couldn’t help myself once it started :3 nothing crazy, and kinda short, so apologies for that, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Prompt fills should be out later this month: In the midst of a move, so slow going getting fills, out, but hopefully soon <3 thanks for the patience, and the continued support. Much love to you guys! Enjoy :3  Sugar Daddy!Enji x Sugar Baby!Male Reader

 (Sort of, kind of, it is but also not entirely the focus)

“What would you do without me, dad,” Fuyumi sighed, though her smile was palpable, even if Enji couldn’t see it- as she’d stepped behind him to lint roll his dinner jacket. Enji adjusting his watch, and catching the time, puffing his chest up a bit as he shooed his daughter back, and glanced at himself in the full length mirror once more, briefly. Enji would lie down and accept the sweet, bitter kiss from the grim reaper, before he ever told his daughter just where he’d found his date from. But, and as hard as it was to so much as admit it, Enji did know when to wave the white flag of defeat, and after three hours of trying to pick his own outfit, he’d shuffled off to her room and mumbled the bare minimum about having a date from an app tonight. Fuyumi had freaked out for all of ten minutes, before growing startlingly serious, and rifling through his closet for articles of clothing Enji had no idea were even there. And now...well, he looked more presentable than he had in ages. Granted, his wardrobe consisted of his hero suit ninety nine percent of the time, but still. Bidding Fuyumi goodbye was a whole other ordeal, but soon enough, Enji found himself- or rather, his driver, pulling up along the curb of the restaurant he’d asked you to. Not even a moment to gather himself, or suck in a few lungful's of crisp evening air, before his eyes landed on you. Your dazzling smile so bright, Enji had to keep himself from squinting, as you hurried over, and without so much as a hello first, threw your arms over the hero’s broad shoulders, and brought him down into a tight, warm hug. Enji squeezed back awkwardly, though your cologne was mouthwatering, and the feel of someone wanting to be in his arms almost made the older man dizzy, as he pulled back, and smoothed out the front of his jacket. Just to busy his hands, as you eyed him up, and your smile grew softer. More intimate. “It’s so nice to meet, finally. In person.” You laughed, gesturing for Enji to follow you to the front door, as there was already a man waiting to escort you back to your table. Well, Enji thought. Here goes nothing. 

“You’re nervous,” you pointed out quietly- gently, reaching across the table to lay one of your hands over Enji’s much larger one: meeting the older man's gaze as he stopped jiggling his leg, and focused his full attention on you. “Observant,” Enji huffed, though not unkindly, as he took a deep breath, and reached up with his free hand to tug at the neck of his sweater. Cheeks flush, both from the heat within himself, and his nerves. You were much more...handsome? Pretty? Drop dead gorgeous?- than your profile pictures had given you credit for, and even then you were one of the most beautiful specimens he’d ever laid his eyes on, so that was really saying something. “I try to be,” you laughed, bringing your other hand around to sip at your champagne, before laying your glass-chilled hand over the other covering Enji’s, to clasp them on either side- just holding his hand, and smiling. Awkwardness creeping back up Enji’s neck as his throat worked around the words he couldn’t quite find. “I could talk, if you’d like? And you can interject whenever you’d like. No pressure to, if you’re not ready. I could probably talk enough for the both of us.” You we’re trying to cut the man some slack, bless his big confused heart. Your online chats hadn’t divulged much, though you did get the gist from Enji. Bad relationship with his children. Not too close to anyone of his own age. He was lonely. And so were you. You were also broke as fuck, but all thoughts of monetary value flew out the window the second you hugged the man when you’d arrived. Seen the restaurant he’d asked you to; and the private balcony dinner he’d arranged. Enji was trying so hard, and it made your heart beat a little too fast. Your smile almost too bright.  “That...would be preferable, thank you,” Enji replied gruffly- though he cleared his throat after like he’d done it by accident. It only made you smile wider “Of course. A very considerate daddy you are,” you teased, referencing the website you met on jokingly- or at least, half jokingly- though the way Enji’s blush deepened had you stuttering around your first few sentences- glancing down suddenly as Enji turned his hand palm upward- holding your hands in return, as you laughed, suddenly, and began speaking smoothly. Squeezing the man’s hands in silent thanks, as he listened intently to you rambling on about your life. Where you went to school, what instrument you played, your favorite movies, and books. He really /listened/, grunting every so often to show you he was- and even interjecting with questions every so often; Enji really wanted to know about you. He wanted to listen. You’d never quite had anyone like that before. Not even close friends who cared enough to really listen to you. Your chest felt tight suddenly as you began touching on your most recent life happenings. Pausing slowly, voice getting quiet as you held Enji’s gaze, you lifted the older man’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. Snickering into it as Enji’s flames burst across his face at the contact. “Ah-Ahem. What uh...what’s that for?” He questioned, voice husky as he turned away slightly. Embarrassed at his flames for the first time since he was a pre-teen. “Just thanks, for listening,” you admitted with a shrug, kissing his palm again, even softer this time. Enji turned then, pure honesty in his gaze as he gathered his courage to speak clearly, “I could listen to you speak...for hours, if I’m being honest. You have..a lovely voice.” “Ah,” You nodded, your cheeks just as flushed as the hero’s as you swirled your champagne in its glass gently. Missing completely the way Enji’s face fell, and he withdrew his hands from atop the table, and back into his lap. The rest of the night went pretty much the same, though you noticed Enji seemed slightly more reserved, and gruff than before. Still just as attentive, still nearly mute, just more...withdrawn. Less open then he’d become as you spoke. It wasn’t until the date had come to an end, and he was escorting you out of the restaurant, and to the car he’d called to take you home, did you realize why. “Here you go.” Enji spoke quietly, yet clearly, crowding you in slightly so the valet couldn’t see the wad of cash he was holding out to you. Crisp bills neatly folded into a money clip, engraved with Enji’s initials. “Oh.” You’d almost forgotten by this point that this was sort of part of it. Or...well, it was the whole point, really. Or had been. “That’s….quite a lot of money,” You thought aloud, frowning at the way Enji’s brows drew down tightly, and he thumped the money into your chest gently. “I apologize for the evening. Please, just take it. It’s triple the amount we originally spoke of. Compensation for the poor company I’ve been.” You froze, staring between Enji’s eyes, that wouldn’t meet your own, and the cash being held out to you, Enji’s grip so tight on it his knuckles were white. /Oh/. So that’s what he thought. Earlier in the evening, your reaction to his sincerity, he’d read into it wrong. ….Sweet old man. “Silly daddy,” You sighed, smiling despite the situation- reaching up to tug out one solitary bill from the stack, before pressing Enji’s fist back into his own chest with one hand- the other snaking up and around the man’s neck, to ease him down to your level gently. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a more wonderful time with anyone before in my whole life. You listened, and saw me. And only me. For hours. I don’t think I can properly describe how absolutely wonderful that was. Truly. Silly,” You laughed again, watching the way Enji’s shoulders hunched, and tensed, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face, before he settled on bewilderment it seemed. The tiniest flames danced across his cheeks as you leaned up on your toes, brushing noses briefly, before capturing Enji’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss. Hand carding up and into the soft hair at the nape of Enji’s neck, scraping your nails through his scalp gently as your lips began to move against one another. Unsure, and hesitant, before that quickly melted away, leaving only the deepest desire, and want. A soft, needy noise leaving your mouth, that Enji swallowed up happily. Panting into your face as he pulled away, breath a wash of champagne, and the chocolate cake you’d both had for dessert. “Tip...for your driver,” You breathed, slightly dazed as you fell back into the car, feet firmly on the ground now- tapping your pocket where you’d slid the bill from the stack he’d held out to you at first. “I...should get going. But if I don’t have a text from you with the details of our next date when I get home, i’ll be one very disappointed boy,” You admitted quietly, cupping Enji’s cheek briefly- thumb sliding across his plump bottom lip, before you opened the back door of the car, and slid in. Wishing Enji a goodnight, before the door was shut, and you were being driven off towards home. Enji checked the time briefly as you pulled away, and once more when he finally was able to get his legs working again- nearly an hour had passed, in which he’d tried and failed multiple times to collect himself. Had that really just happened? The feel of his lips twisting up into a smile felt strange, and foreign for the pro hero. And as he walked home, to allow himself a chance to breathe finally, he began to laugh. Cupping his own face, and touching his lips, an incredulous laugh bubbled from deep within him as he threw his head back and allowed it to overtake him. Smiling in a way he hadn’t in...so, so long. Pulling his phone out, he immediately began texting you, checking your schedule for the next night, before suggesting going to a play. A quiet, private balcony just for the two of you. Close seats. Beautiful music. He could watch your reactions under the bright stage lights. It sounded fantastic. A text from Fuyumi chimed into his phone as he was nearly home, and still smiling like a love struck teenager. So? How was it!?-FT Enji sighed heavily, catching himself in a nearby shop window- looking too happy to be real, and recalling your words from earlier. Wonderful.-ET It was wonderful, Fuyumi.-ET

[beyondspaceandstars]

“We Go Way Back”

Relationship: Yelena Belova x Reader Warnings: angst, attitude, possible vague Black Widow spoilers Summary: Your and Yelena's date night takes an unexpected turn when a surprise guest shows up at your shared apartment. A/N: So. I saw Black Widow on thursday....i loved SO much.......maybe even found a new comfort character..........and now here we are :) please enjoy

Masterlist

You were just finishing up dinner when two arms snaked around your waist. You giggled, staring down at the sautéed vegetables, as you leaned into your girlfriend’s touch.

"Smells good," she mumbled against your neck. Light kisses were beginning to litter your skin.

You sighed. "Thank you, love," you said, giving everything a final stir before turning off the burners. You went to start carrying items to the table, thinking your girlfriend would let up on her hold on you, but that ended up not being the case.

With a joyous laugh, you playfully scolded her, "Yelena, please," you smiled. "Do you want to eat or not?"

She hummed. Her hands drifted now to your sides and began creeping their way to your hips and thighs. "Depends on what you had in mind."

You let out a faux surprised gasp. "You’re shameless." You shook your head and peeled her hands away from you. She let out a little defeated sigh but you just shot her a playful look and continued with your initial mission of setting the dining table.

Thankfully, this time, Yelena lent a helping hand as opposed to lending her hands…elsewhere. The latter was a common occurrence, especially before date night dinners, such as ones like these. There had been one too many meals you were forced to reheat everything after you let Yelena get carried away.

After the food was placed — a nice spread of local meats, fresh produce, and bakery bread — you began working on getting plates and cutlery. Yelena had taken it upon herself to start breaking out the wine. She brought out two bottles you had just bought that morning based on the recommendation from the butcher. You maybe took cooking and dinners a bit too seriously, hoping everything was right especially when it was for your love.

You set out the cutlery just as Yelena finished pouring two (hefty) glasses of wine. You shot her a smile in thanks and began filling each of your plates. You did have to pat yourself on the back a bit, everything smelled wonderful.

Once you two had full plates and eager stomachs, you sat down and dug in. Yelena immediately let out an exaggerated moan as she practically devoured the meat. You blushed at her enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful, dear," Yelena praised and took a sip of her wine. "Very reminiscent of my momma’s cooking."

Your ears perked up at your girlfriend’s mention of her family. She did that every now and then, slip in random comments about them. You liked trying to explore it but knew the topic was a delicate one. You trod carefully.

"Yeah?" You asked, moving some vegetables around on your plate. "Did she cook a lot?"

Yelena shrugged. "We’d have dinners together, all of us, pretty much every night."

All of us. You had heard so far of a mother and a father but could there be more? Or were you reading too much into it?

Eventually, you settled on, "Family dinners sound very nice." That was enough, you thought. Just safe but still engaged. You eyed Yelena as she continued to eat. She hadn’t noticed you stalled or, well, she probably did, but wasn’t saying anything. You took large gulps of your wine, impulsively.

Just as your liquid courage was getting to you to maybe inquire further about your lover’s family, a hard knock at the front door disrupted the entire dinner. Both of your movements stopped abruptly. You looked between the door and your girlfriend.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked.

Yelena shook her head. Her fork dropped with a loud clang as she pushed away from the table. In quick, determined strides she collected the gun kept in the side table in the living room. You watched her, quite stunned by her response. You don’t think you ever actually saw any of her guns come into action. When you first moved in, she just explained they were a precaution. You never asked what kind of precaution. You feared you were getting your answer now as Yelena walked to the entryway.

Gun drawn, pointed dead on with the wooden door, she called out, "Who is it?"

"You can put the gun down." Surprisingly, that was a female voice answering your girlfriend’s demand. Your brows furrowed in curiosity. You watched for Yelena’s reaction but she was still so stoic and intense.

Yelena scoffed. "Are you sure?"

Probably a bit foolishly, you decided to chime in. "Love," you said, "is everything okay?"

The female on the other side of the door spoke again, this time with an element of shock in her voice. "Love?"

Yelena let out a dramatic sigh as she relaxed her stance and surrendered her gun, placing it on the little table in the foyer. What seemed to be a bit reluctantly, Yelena opened the door forcefully.

Despite the mystery woman finally being revealed, it answered approximately zero of your questions. There, in the doorway, stood a redhead whose unamusing expression mixed with a slight smugness matched your girlfriend’s. The two just stared at one another, neither dared to move, as if they were challenging one another to try it.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you stood from the dining table and slowly made your way to the front door. Your fingers fumbled in nervousness as you stepped with caution.

"Hi, there," you said with a weak smile and gentle wave. The redhead’s eyes flicked over to you only briefly. Still, you continued, "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Oh, do I."

Yelena shook her head. "The only thing she needs is to leave."

You turned to your girlfriend, "Who is she?"

"Natasha," the redhead explained. "Me and your love here," she nodded towards Yelena, "we go way back."

You didn’t know how she had the air in her but Yelena let out another ridiculous sigh and stomped away. Like some defeated child, she took her seat once more at the dining table. You had never seen her like this before, so unattached and dismissive. You wracked your brain on how to mend this.

You turned back to Natasha. "Please, come in." Natasha took the offer quite well and gave you a nod of thanks before entering the apartment. You followed her into the dining room.

"We were just starting dinner," you explained as you raced for the kitchen, grabbing Natasha her own set. "Sit, have some food."

Natasha mumbled a "thanks" as you began filling her plate now with food. You even offered up some wine despite Yelena’s weird look she shot you when you reached for it. You ignored her odd behavior and took your seat once more. Somehow, the tension from the situation just got worse. Neither woman was eating now.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to dig into your meal once more. "I hope it’s still warm. If not, I can pop everything in the oven to warm."

No one said anything.

"Alright then…" You shrugged. "If I may, how exactly do you two know each other?"

That was the question that opened the flood gates. Yelena turned to you abruptly. "She’s my sister."

"Sort of," the redhead quickly retorted.

Your jaw went slack. Your appetite completely abandoned you now as your interest was greatly piqued. "Your sister?" You asked and looked between the two women. Well, they didn’t really look alike…

"Not biologically," Yelena explained. "We just kind of…lived together for a while."

"I see," you nodded. You scraped your fork against your plate, awkwardly. "If I may again, what brings you here, Natasha?"

The question certainly made Yelena perk up as she stared down her sister — or, whatever they considered each other. You resisted the urge to grab her hand under the table, unsure of what level of affection she was comfortable showing in front of this woman.

"Some business to attend to." Short and sweet. You felt these two were definitely related on some level.

"This couldn’t have waited until the morning?" Yelena gritted.

Natasha shrugged. "I guess it could’ve but then, apparently, I would’ve missed out on this lovely dinner with you and your… your, what? Girlfriend?" She took a bite of food. "Hmm, tastes close to someone else’s cooking." A shrug. "Anyways, I didn’t know you dated."

"You don’t know a lot of things."

"Okay!" You explained, trying to salvage whatever was left of this civilized conversation. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before turning to your flustered state. "We’re very happy you dropped in, right, love?" You glanced at Yelena. "And you’re more than welcome to stay, Natasha. I’m afraid all we have to offer is the couch if that would be okay."

Natasha glanced behind you at the living room before nodding. "That would be great," she smiled.

***

It wasn’t until you were standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes from dinner that Yelena approached you to talk. Natasha was off getting ready for bed and your girlfriend hopped on this opportunity.

"I’m so sorry," she said as she stood beside you, taking on the role of the dryer in your little dishwasher assembly line. "I-I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry she dropped by, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her—,"

"Love," you shook your head, giving her a sympathetic look, "it’s okay. I’m not really mad you didn’t tell me or that she’s here. From what I gather, it’s a complicated relationship."

Yelena let out an annoyed huff. "You have no idea." A beat. "But, still. I shouldn’t hide these things from you. She was a big part of my life and now you… you’re a big part of my life. It’s only fair."

Your heart warmed at her admission. She could be quite the affectionate one when she wanted to be. Quickly, you leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She tried hiding her blush but failed beautifully.

"For what it’s worth, she seems very interesting," you shrugged. "I think she could be fun to get to know. Probably has a few embarrassing stories about you as a child."

Yelena gasped. "Don’t even think about it."

"Too late," you giggled, mentally marking that down as a subject for conversation. A brief silence passed over you two as you finished up with the dishes. Reaching the end of the chore, you said, "So, should I be on the lookout for any other siblings?"

Your girlfriend chuckled. "No," she admitted. "Natasha is it."

You let out a content hum in understanding. "One day we should have them all over."

"Them?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "your whole family. A nice, big family dinner. That could be exciting, right?"

Yelena rolled her eyes. Whether it was playful or not, you couldn’t quite tell. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Is Insecure

Warnings: mentions of insecurity surrounding body image, physical appearance, self-worth.

Lucifer

It was the day after a party Diavolo had thrown at his castle. You had had fun for the most part, dancing with the brothers and eating delicious foods prepared by Barbatos. 

But you also remembered how it had felt to look around the room and realize you were surrounded by gorgeous demons, not a single flaw on anyone’s face. Doubt and insecurity had begun to creep into your mind, and that feeling had carried over into the next day.

You had only talked briefly with Lucifer at the party because he was too busy interacting with Diavolo’s guests. Every time you tried to catch his eye, you noticed how beautiful whoever he was talking to was and found yourself swallowing down your greeting.

Currently Lucifer was at his desk like always, scribbling down notes and shuffling through papers. You brought him afternoon tea and sat reading in one of his armchairs to keep him company.

You had been telling yourself that you were going to ask him the question that was burning in your mind, but an hour had already passed since you first came in. You tried to distract yourself with your book but the words were fuzzy on the page. Finally, you spoke. “Luci?”

He didn’t look up from his desk when he answered, “Yes, love?”

“Do you... do you ever wish I was more beautiful?”

The scratching of his pen stopped immediately and Lucifer lowered the papers he was holding to show his face, a carefully blank expression revealing nothing. “What exactly do you mean by that question?”

“I mean exactly what I asked. Do you ever wish I was more beautiful? More attractive? As the Avatar of Pride have you ever been... embarrassed to be seen with me?”

At this Lucifer’s expression grew cold and furious. “Has someone... made you feel this way? Has someone made you feel as if you are inadequate?” You shook your head sadly and whispered, “No, just my own brain.”

“Ah, I see. Well pet, I don’t ever wish you were more beautiful because you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. So it would be physically impossible for you to be more beautiful than you are now.”

You snorted. “Luci, that was so cheesy. Your brothers would throw up if they heard what you just said.” Lucifer’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Well, I’m glad I was able to make you laugh. And I do mean what I said. I’ve never once felt embarrassed to be with you; you are my pride, the source of my happiness. If anyone were to suggest otherwise, I would gladly kill them.”

“Luci, we’ve been over this. You can’t just kill everyone who is mildly rude to me.”

Lucifer went back to working on his papers but there was a gentle smile on his face. “Darling, you’ll find that I definitely can. I have a permit.”

Mammon

You were regretting tagging along to one of Mammon’s photo shoots. At first, it seemed like a fun idea getting to look at all the clothes, makeup, and jewelry. Plus, you really wanted to see what Mammon was like when he was working professionally. 

It was fun at first, you cooing over how handsome Mammon looked in his outfit and watching him get all flustered and blushy. But then the actual photoshoot started and you watched as Mammon posed with a stunning model.

You tried to not let your insecurities get the best of you. You were here to support Mammon! But as the shoot progressed you couldn’t help but start to compare yourself, keeping track of how they were more beautiful and you more flawed. 

The photographer stopped to take a break and Mammon immediately bounced over to you. “MC, did you see me? How does it feel to watch the Great Mammon in his natural element? I look good, don’t I?”

You caressed Mammon’s cheek and feigned a bright smile. “You were amazing Mammon! You look so handsome. And this is such a cool outfit!” But Mammon was somehow always able to tell when you were faking a good mood and he frowned. “MC, is something wrong? You look sad. Did something happen?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse ready on your lips, but found you couldn’t lie right to Mammon’s face. You gestured toward the model who was talking to their manager in the corner. “Do you ever wish I looked like that?”

Mammon cocked his head, confused. “Do I ever wish you had blue hair? Not particularly? Although now that I think about it, blue hair would look cool on you too.”

You sighed. “No, I mean do you ever wish I looked like a model? Sexier? Or prettier?” Mammon thought for a moment, processing your question, and then frowned. “Oh no no no. Treasure, what’s this all about? What happened?”

“Sorry Mams, I didn’t want to distract you while you’re working. I just got really low and insecure all of a sudden. Started thinking about how you should be with someone really beautiful, you know? And sometimes I feel like that’s not me.”

Clearly upset, Mammon rushed to give you a crushing hug, tucking your head underneath his chin. “MC I- I wish I could beam my thoughts into your head. That way you’d really believe me when I say that you’re so precious to me. Every day I wake up and think about how lucky I am to be with you.”

You chuckled a little. “I do put up a lot with you, don’t I.” Mammon gently smacked you on your back. “Hey! I’ve been good lately! But seriously MC, you are stunning. You are gorgeous. And it’s okay if you don’t believe me right now because- because I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to! I’ll tell you a thousand times a day! A million times!”

You tried to blink away the tears in your eyes and held onto Mammon even tighter. “Thanks Mams, I love you so much.”

“Love you too treasure. Your first man’s gonna take care of you, don’t you worry about a thing.”

Leviathan

Usually you liked watching anime with Levi; it was one of your favorite things to do together. Levi was always more happy and lively when watching with you because he was able to express his opinions freely without judgment. And you thought it was adorable how excited Levi got over his favorite characters and storylines.

Today, you were snuggled together on some cushions re-watching an episode of “The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl”. At first you were enjoying the episode, laughing as Ruri got used to the oddities of the human world. But Levi’s repeated comments about how cute Ruri-chan was, which you usually never minded, started to bother you a bit.

You took a quick glance around the room, noting Levi’s enormous collection of Ruri-chan posters, figurines, and other merch. Levi tapped you on the knee, interrupting your thoughts. “MC, you’re missing the best part! What are you looking at?”

You sighed a little, struggling to act nonchalant. “Sorry Levi, it’s nothing. I’m still watching.” Frowning, Levi paused the episode and turned to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you said “Levi, I’m not Ruri-chan.” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Yes... I know?”

You continued, “I don’t look like Ruri-chan. Does that bother you?”

“Does it bother me... that you don’t look like an anime character?” He repeated the question slowly, as if you had asked him the strangest question in the world.

Frustrated, you blurted out “I don’t look like Ruri-chan! I’m never going to be as cute as her!”

Levi looked completely bewildered, his eyes wide and staring at you in confusion. “B-But you are cute! MC, w-what are you even talking about?” 

Embarrassed at your outburst you looked down at the floor silently. Levi scooted over toward you so that your knees were touching and he waited until you broke the silence. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. I think maybe you’d like it if I looked cuter or acted cuter, like the characters in anime.”

Levi hesitated for a moment before quickly grabbing onto your hand, blushing furiously as he did so. "MC, I-I already think you're c-cute. Really really cute. So don't say things like that. And also, I like you because you're you! Not because you're like someone else."

"And you make me really happy. I'm just a gross otaku. I never thought I'd be able to... to find someone like you. Someone who accepts me."

He tried to lock eyes with you but blushed even harder and stared at your joined hands. "Plus, I couldn't to-touch an anime character. But I can touch you. I can hold your hand or give you hugs whenever you need it, o-okay?"

You leaned your head onto Levi's shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the peaceful silence wash over you.

Satan

You were accompanying Satan on a trip to one of his favorite stores: an antique shop that sold all manner of rare books and artifacts. The owner, Ms. Sparrow, was a friend of Satan’s and she welcomed the two of you wholeheartedly.

Today, she looked as gorgeous as she always did. Her chic pearl dress and matching silk gloves shone against her dark skin. Not a curl in her hair was out of place and even the click-clack of her heels on the floor seemed melodious somehow.

You left Satan to look at the books and went wandering off into the various aisles of the store, marveling at all the bits and bobs. In one of the over-stuffed corners you happened to find a glittering silver key on a red velvet ribbon. Taking it in your hand, you went back through to show it off to Satan, wanting to ask him what he thought it opened.

But Satan was busy chatting and laughing with Ms. Sparrow. You watched the two of them for a moment and noticed how well they complimented each other. Both had a certain poise, a kind of confidence and certainty in their movements.

On your walk back to the dorms, you were unusually quiet and Satan noticed. “Pet, is something the matter?”

You hesitated, wondering if Satan was going to find your insecurity childish. “Satan, I’m not very....elegant.”

“Yes, I know. You choked on a piece of bread yesterday. The day before that you tripped over absolutely nothing and fell down.” He smiled, expecting for you to get riled up, but it fell when he saw that you looked dejected. “Love, what is the matter? Have I upset you?”

You avoided his gaze. “Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I bring you down by being with you. I feel like you deserve someone elegant and sophisticated. Someone who matches you. But I’m not. I’m clumsy and messy and not perfect, like Ms. Sparrow.”

Satan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ms. Sparrow? What does she have anything to with this?” He turned you around so that you were facing him. “Pet, please look at me. I love you. And I’m not with you in spite of you being clumsy or messy. I love you because you’re clumsy and messy, because those are parts of you and I love all of you.”

He leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “And why would I need someone perfect? Am I perfect? Yesterday you saw me screaming at my cup because I accidentally spilled some tea and burned my finger.”

You shrugged while giggling, “I thought it was a perfectly reasonable response.” You wrapped your arms around his and buried your face into his shoulder. “Thanks, Satan. You always know how to make me feel better.”

He reached down to give you a gentle kiss. “Anytime, love. I’m always here for you.”

Asmodeus

Asmo has a lot of fans across all his social media accounts. That was made perfectly clear the first time you went on a date with him outside. Sitting in the trendy coffeeshop, several people had come up to ask him for a picture or an autograph. He was never shy about you and always introduced you as his sweetheart, cooing about how beautiful you were. 

Some days it was okay. You loved seeing the bubbly social-butterfly side of Asmo. He was always so sweet to everyone who came up to him and genuinely enjoyed meeting new people. But other days, your insecurity rose up like a huge wave and dampened everything.

This particular day you were shopping with Asmo in a new boutique that had opened up. You were aimlessly flicking through the racks of clothes when you heard a large squealing.

Two demons ran up to Asmo, talking and gesturing excitedly. You could make out that they followed him on Devilgram and were asking if he was willing to take a picture with them. These demons were some of the most attractive beings you had ever seen. Their clothes were incredibly stylish and their hair and makeup were done flawlessly.

Looking around the shop, in all of the full length mirrors you could see the reflection of Asmo and his beautiful fans. And you looked out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit in at all. 

Tearing up, you grabbed a random pair of jeans off the rack and ran into a changing room. You turned away from the mirror, not wanting to look at yourself, and took deep breaths to try and keep from bursting into sobs. After a few moments Asmo began looking for you, having finished taking pictures. “Sweetheart, are you changing? Let me see what you’re wearing when you’re done!”

At the sound of his voice you burst into tears and your attempts to muffle the noise were futile. Outside the door, Asmo’s voice sounded panicked. “Darling, are you okay? What’s the matter? Please come outside, whatever it is please let me help you!” You hesitated, not wanting to face him, but this made him even more frantic. He started jiggling the doorknob and knocking on the door.

You opened it, afraid that he would accidentally break the doorknob leaving you trapped inside. As soon as he saw you he gathered you in his arms and began making shushing noises while smoothing your hair. “Sweetheart, why are you crying? Please talk to me, please tell me what’s wrong.”

You tried to get the words out in between sobs and hiccups. “A-Asmo, don’t you want someone m-more beautiful? Someone who-who looks g-good with you?” Asmo paused for a moment, processing your words, and then his eyes burned with anger. “Sweetheart, did one of my fans say something mean to you? Did someone make you feel like this?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, just me.” Asmo breathed a sigh of relief at hearing no one had harrassed you and resumed smoothing your hair. “Oh, darling. You ARE beautiful. You’re stunning, sweetheart. I wish you could see the way I saw you, how adorable and gorgeous you are. And I understand that there are going to be days when you don’t believe me, when you feel like you’re not. But at least don’t go through those days alone, okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without tearing up again.

"Now, let's go get some ice cream. We can eat it while taking a bubble bath."

Beelzebub

You weren’t really sure why Beel liked you coming with him to the gym all the time, even if you didn’t exercise. He said your presence was calming and that it made him focus better, which was odd because a lot of the time you just sat on an unoccupied machine and scrolled through your D.D.D.

Today was much the same, with Beel running on the treadmill and you watching some videos. The gym was pretty empty, just a few students exercising here and there.

Your eyes drifted to Beel who was running without even breaking a sweat. His body was all solid muscle: his arms, legs, and abs looked perfectly chiseled and toned. Last week you accidentally ran into Beel in the hallway and it felt like you had smashed into a brick wall. Beel, on the other hand, was completely fine.

You began to wonder what Beel thought about your body. He could be pretty handsy at times and he wasn’t shy in his affections. But what if there was something he didn’t like? Something that he thought needed changing?

He’s never mentioned anything about exercising to you before. But you thought back to the students you had seen in this gym: all of them were extremely fit with incredible bodies. You couldn’t help but start to compare yourself to them and think that maybe you were lacking.

Just then, Beel finished his run and walked over to you. You weren’t sure what kind of facial expression you were making but it seemed enough to concern him because he asked, “MC, is everything okay?”

“Hey Beel... do you ever wish I had a nicer body?”

He squinted in confusion. “What do you mean by ‘a nicer body’?”

“I don’t know... just better. Whatever nicer looks like for you.”

Beel was quiet for a moment, thinking. “No, I've never wished for that before. I still don't know what you mean by 'nicer'. I love you. And I love your body because its yours. The only thing that matters to me is whether you’re happy. And as long as I'm still allowed to touch you, then I'm happy.”

He looked at you nervously then, biting his lip. "Am I... still allowed to touch you?"

You laughed and reached to give him a hug, loving how safe it felt in his arms. "Of course, big guy. Thanks for making me feel better. You always know what to say."

Beel flushed with pride and closed his eyes in happiness, leaning into your hand as you patted him on the head.

Belphegor

You knew you were dreaming because you were sitting in a R.A.D classroom surrounded by fellow students, but you couldn’t focus on any of their faces. They were blurry, as if someone had smudged them like an artist had smudged some charcoal.

You were at your desk, looking around the classroom, when as if on cue all of the students began to slowly gather around you. They stood there silently for a moment, unmoving, and you felt a shiver go up your spine. 

And then one by one the students began to hurl insults at you.

“You’re not good enough. Not good enough for Belphegor.” “You’re ugly, you’re hideous. “You’re unwanted, go back to where you came from.” “You don’t deserve what you have, don’t deserve good.” “You’re weak.” “You ruin others, you ruin everything.”

As they insulted you the students began to draw themselves closer, pushing and shoving to reach you. They almost made a cover over your desk as if to block out all the light. You hunched over your desk, shaking and panicking, trying to curl up to protect yourself.

One of the demons began shaking your shoulder roughly, you yelping in pain. He began yelling in your ear, “Wake up! Wake up!”

“MC! Wake up!”

You startled awake and looked around the room in fear. You were in Belphie’s bed, your pajamas sticking to you with sweat. Belphie was looking at you with concern, one hand still on your shoulder.

“MC, you’re okay. It’s just me. It was just a nightmare.” You let out a sob and buried yourself in his arms while he patted you on the back until your breaths evened out.

“D-Did you see my dream?” you asked. You were nervous about showing Belphie that weak side of you, the insecurities that had been brewing since the two of you had begun a relationship. He looked apologetic. “I did. You were whimpering and shaking in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He reached over, one hand smoothing your hair, the fingers of his other hand interlaced with yours. “None of what they said was true, you know.” You looked down, embarrassed. “I mean it, MC. You are good enough. You’re beautiful, you’re wanted, you deserve all the nice and beautiful things in the world, you’re strong. And most importantly, you lift others up. You lift me up everyday.”

He lifted up your hand and pressed a kiss against it. “You lifted me out of darkness. I love you so much. And I’ll gladly stay by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You grabbed the front of his sweater to draw him into a rough kiss, lips bruising. “Forever, Belphie. Forever.” 

[pretendfan]

{Roommates} THREE

(A/N welcome to chapter three! You’ve got everything in this chapter that went on longer than planned BUT Adrian is being a legit snack, Phoebe tries to play matchmaker, Scott is well being Scott , Lara teases her BFF easily whilst trying to give words of obvious wisdom and dear female reader figures somethings out but not liking the consequences…enjoy🎉)

(Pairing)

Adrian Chase x Female Reader

(Summary)

Desperately in need of a roommate, your co-worker knows a guy, but why did it have to be Adrian? The guy both annoyed and frustrated the hell out of you getting under your skin from the very moment that you had meet him.

But this was only temporary there was no need to complicate things by really getting to know one another or even worse catch feels along the way. Sure it had been a while for both of you but hooking up with your roommate was a terrible idea…wasn’t it?

(Words)

6103

(Warnings)

Mentions of asshole ex , exes behaviour, therapy, talk about Vigilante, more of your favourite roomies being adorable, awkward moments take a turn, friends doing their best (kinda) and a whole heap of tension on top of the already built up tension…. 18+ ONLY

(THREE)

Lost in your own thoughts, on a random Tuesday afternoon during a slow part of your shift at the coffee shop, an old memory hits you right between the eyes.

You, out with your ex at the local market that has since closed down at the exchange where it had been held, but on that particular day you’d been happy together.

The pair of you holding hands walking through the small crowd around the square, three years into your relationship before you realised who your ex really was.

Before everything had blown up in your face your ex had decided to buy you a bunch of pretty sunflowers, which had delighted you because they were your absolute favourite, but that would be one of the only times he’d ever do anything that nice again.

After that memory follows the bitterness which awakens inside you, leading to obvious questions such as why the hell didn’t you leave him when you realised what an asshole he was, and more importantly why couldn’t you stand up for yourself?

Having attended therapy alone before your ex had decided to finally up and leave regardless, you now knew that you were better off but it still hurt either way, like a cut that just wouldn’t heal.

It was actually hurt mixed with embarrassment at the idea of letting him treat you like he did, but you hadn’t known any better, and now you were trying to finally move on from that.

But the memory had left you feeling confused, because how else was you supposed to trust someone new, after what your ex had said and done to you?

You had to avoid getting too close to anyone especially Adrian, which annoys you briefly why did he have to suddenly appear in your thoughts, of all the people to get under your skin it just had to be him.

The day was now ruined you decide or cursed because either way, this was how you had pretty much felt every single time you’ve woken up on the couch just to get away from your boyfriend, before he had walked out of your life until recently.

“Are you ok?” Phoebe asks breaking into your collection of thoughts that were starting to give you an intense headache.

“Thinking about dating again.” You retort out loud then instantly regret it, when you see the excited smile that passes over the barista’s face.

“Really? So who are you thinking about no one here I hope!” Phoebe laughs excitedly but stops when she sees you’re not joining in.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud, even though I’m considering getting back out there since after me ex you know-“

“You can’t talk about your ex here!” Phoebe cries loudly whilst holding her hands up in front of you , which alerts Scott who was leaning against the front counter instead of working.

“An ex is supposed to be forgotten about just move forward and have some fun!” Scott winks at you making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t want to be talking about this at work-“

“Is it because you like Scott?” Cuts in Phoebe causing Scott to almost choke on the drink of water he was having trouble swallowing.

“Wrong friend.” Scott states with a wink once he’s finished choking causing you to glare in his direction.

Phoebe gives you a confused look but you clearly get his meaning ,telling yourself to stop blushing but your body isn’t listening, when your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Ok, let’s just get back to work-“

“But we haven’t finished talking about you yet!” Cuts in Scott adding “Now that your ex is completely out of your hair you can get to know-“

“Oh! Did you mean Adrian?!” Phoebe announces cutting off Scott who rolls his eyes at you, whilst you just now glare at them both, yep today was going exactly to plan, like shit.

“Look you both know I don’t normally talk about my private life and I want to keep it that way-“

“But we have a mutual friend now!” Scott declares with delightful relish, and a smirk you want to slap off his face, because he was of course winding you up on purpose.

“Oh I get it, does Adrian just want to be friends and you want more-“

“What I want!” You cut off Phoebe with a firm voice as you continue “Is to just please stop talking about me and lets get back to work.”

“But there are no customers in here.” Phoebe shrugs like that means she could just sit down, and do nothing which she proceeds to do using the counter as a seat.

“Plus I don’t think Adrian would ever say-“

“Just go do something!“ You hear yourself plead to your colleagues who look at one another, not used to your soft tone of voice, maybe you should try and be less robotic around these two get to actually know them a little more.

Hell, you were finding out lots of strange facts about Scott most of which you would never repeat, thanks to your roommate telling you even though you hadn’t even asked him to.

“Someone needs to get-“

“I’m working on it!” You snap then collecting yourself, smile awkwardly at Phoebe and Scott who both grin back in unison.

“I might know a guy-“

“Adrian is free -“

“End of discussion for now.” You state heading out towards the kitchen to the large fridge to check dates, just be alone for a few moments to cringe in peace.

The rest of the shift leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth, it was just embarrassment from the conversation with Phoebe and Scott which didn’t end but instead got much worse, yet despite all of that you had enjoyed chatting with them both.

Which was why you was in such a shitty mood because since meeting Lara here at Karma coffee, way before Phoebe or Scott started you had been content with just the one best friend.

But if earlier had told you anything it was that in your moment of needing to vent your colleagues had been there for you, all you hoped now was that Scott kept his big mouth shut which you knew was obviously impossible.

Carrying your bad mood which was pretty much self inflicted at this point, home with you heading quickly inside your apartment ready to put today in the trash, until you notice the state of the kitchen.

Of all the times to make a mess Adrian had chosen completely the wrong moment, causing you to drop your tote bag angrily on the floor, and very almost stamp your foot hard on the wooden floor in annoyance.

First of all the TV was on super loud with some game show you didn’t recognise, but there was of course no roommate in sight, the kitchen was a complete mess with food left out and plates piled in the sink you could feel your blood suddenly begin to boil.

“Hey Adrian!” You shout over the TV but then you recognise the noises from the bathroom, the shower was on which somehow manages to annoy you even more.

“Of course I want to come home from work and tidy up after you Adrian, it’s like we’re in a relationship which we are far from it, because being with you would be like the worst thing ever!” You shout to yourself angrily whilst contained in the kitchen tidying up the mess around you in a sudden rage.

Adrian pats the flat palm of his hand against his ear because he was pretty sure he had just heard you shouting out his name, but under the running water of the shower thinks he is just hearing things, so instead continues to wash the shampoo from his curly brown hair.

But now you were there in his mind which he knew was wrong, because his body’s automatic response when thinking of you was blood rushing to his cock, which was frustrating as hell.

Because now really wasn’t the time and he definitely wasn’t going to be thinking about you whilst jerking off, not again at least it felt wrong especially if you were here in the apartment, which you weren’t but he needed to control himself.

Adrian had to head out soon anyway to meet Scott then much later go out alone, for a scout around town those were his plans for tonight so he needed to get out, there was no time to satisfy himself even though he knew it wouldn’t take very long.

But instead Adrian choses to ignore his aching erection as he switches the water to freezing cold, which does the trick despite your pretty face illuminating his thoughts all the while he quickly finishes washing himself feeing like an idiot all the while, of all the people it had to be you caught in his head space right this second.

Meanwhile in the kitchen you scan your eyes around the clean counter and sink, feeling a little better until you turn around to go grab your tote bag from the floor, and you hear the bathroom door open which makes you snap all over again.

“What did I say about tidying up your own mess you can’t just-“

Looking back towards the kitchen you freeze mid sentence when you spot Adrian, standing by the kitchen counter grabbing his glasses from the side, as he rewards you with a weird look.

But all you can see is Adrian wearing his dark peach coloured towel low on his hips, damp bare skin showcasing sculpted muscles and abs you didn’t even know he had, hearing his voice in your head but you was focusing instead on the trail of dark hair on his flat stomach leading downwards towards…

“Are you ok?” You hear Adrian ask with a chuckle which snaps your eyes away from his stomach, as you realise all too late that somehow your roommate, was now standing right in front of you.

But you cannot form words to answer his question because you have somehow, forgotten how to speak noticing Adrian’s damp hair which was curling at the front, making you want to reach out and move it away from his forehead.

Adrian notices how red your face has gone from seeing him appear out the shower, which in turn has now got his heart racing at an alarming rate and blood re-routing to a place he really wished that is wasn’t, just this once he didn’t need to be getting a boner right now.

Yet what surprises him the most in this moment was the fact that you were actually blushing in front of him, it was both adorable and a bit of a turn on as he adjusts his towel around his hips as subtly as he could, not to cause anymore distraction.

The movement of his large hands grabbing hold of his towel kickstarts you, as finally capable of speech you look Adrian in the face, then at his bare feet as you mumble “Just stop making a mess.”

You notice Adrian look around the clean kitchen realising you had tidied his mess from earlier, which makes him pull an awkward face in your direction, he needed to perform some quick damage control.

“I’m sorry I-“ Adrian begins but stops when he sees how red your face still was, and how you were trying awfully hard not to look him in the face or anywhere else for that matter, it was very interesting indeed.

“This is all just too much!” You retort suddenly motioning to all of Adrian with one hand waving it in front of him, until you realise what your doing and you drop your hand then just walk off towards your room leaving your bag on the floor, desperately needing to get away before you did something completely stupid.

Like snake a hand around Adrian’s thick neck to pull him closer to you, as your hand threads it’s way into the back of his hair and your lips do all the talking as they meet with his, feeling your roomies hands grip onto you hips tightly as he pulled your body flush against his…

Walking into your bedroom you practically slam the door behind you, then leaning your back against it you try to calm your breathing as the obvious realisation that Adrian is fucking hot, repeats in your head complete with at least fifteen exclamation points after it.

This was bad you could feel your body responding to what it had just seen and you felt so embarrassed, for just standing there like an idiot because Adrian had been talking but you had been lost somewhere near his abs, and what laid below the towel he had been wearing.

Staying in your room you quickly change from your work uniform of a blue polo shirt, leaving on the black skinny jeans for a dark grey fitted tee shirt realising that you needed to get out of here, like right now.

Luckily you soon hear the front door open and close signalling that Adrian had left the building, making you sigh to yourself then decide that regardless, you needed to get out of this apartment.

Messaging Lara you decide to head over to her place she shared with a women named Cleo, who you hoped wasn’t home because she freaked you out, she made Adrian look like the perfect roommate.

Well he did have the perfect body- you stop yourself finishing that sentence with a firm shake of your head, you needed to get a grip and fast no more daydreaming about Adrian.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I definitely need to start dating again, or at the very least just go on one date.” You state a few hours later in front of a not-so surprised Lara, thankful that her roommate was out for the night so they could talk in peace.

Pizza and late night conversations was how to make things right again, this much you knew because you needed your mind to just stop, wandering back to your roommate and quick.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to that conclusion but what is really wrong here you seem really spaced out tonight like your mind is elsewhere or should I say focusing on someone else?” Lara questions with a smirk plastered across her face that makes you worry.

“All I’m focusing on now is meeting Rob when you finally set me up with him, and of course I’m not thinking about Adrian before you say it.” You retort in one long breath just to get your point across which you nail in one take.

“Like I even need to, you do it at least every twelve minutes yourself.” Deadpans Lara who laughs when she spots the face you pull in response to her funny comment.

“That’s clearly a lie I’ve mentioned him once just then, it isn’t as if I have much to say about him in the first place!” You say out loud causing Lara’s eyebrows to raise up behind her blonde fringe.

“Ok, your freaking out something happened between you two didn’t it? You don’t often come by here unless you want to talk about something.” Lara points a well manicured finger at you causing you to hold your hands up feeling guilty as hell.

“I have nothing to say.” You tell Lara whilst trying not to sound or look guilty but when she gives you that look you know it’s just easier to talk.

So you do, explaining what had happened earlier as vaguely as possible but you end up detailing Adrian’s muscles so informatively, that Lara ends up laughing at you which makes you stop talking.

“Let me get this straight you left lover boy at home to tell me all this, when he’s back there waiting for you clearly whilst looking all kinds of hot by the sounds of it!” Lara laughs with glee then she adds “But you’re here telling me this instead of being back at home, getting over your ex by climbing on your sexy new roommate.”

“First of all I didn’t say anything about how hot he was-“

“You didn’t need to your face says it all, believe me it’s a picture right now, wait where’s my phone!” Lara goes to grab said phone but you narrow your eyes at her making her stop halfway.

“Fine. But most importantly I’m not going to climb Adrian, need I remind you I hardly know the guy-“

“For now, sure start off with Rob and see where it goes but don’t forget about poor Adrian all alone at the apartment, probably still awaiting for your return as we speak!” Lara comments with a smirk.

“He’s hardly ever there and I doubt he even thinks of me in such way, I’m pretty sure he likes tall blondes instead so-“

“You really are digging yourself a hole here I don’t even need to talk, I could just listen to you spiral all night long it’s so funny!” Lara cuts you off then descends into more bouts of laughter.

“I hate you, you do know that right?” You question which only makes Lara laugh harder because she knows you’ve been beat, dammit.

Beers turn into shots that night as you decide enough was enough, drinking would help you forget at least for tonight deciding to crash on Lara’s couch, where she eventually leaves you passed out muttering in your sleep which makes her chuckle.

Sitting by himself on top of a tall wall with very little happening around him, Adrian tries to find sense in what had happened between you and him, before he had to practically run out of the apartment.

Scott had noticed how off he was with him but Adrian couldn’t even begin to explain earlier, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like what his friend would say on the matter, but why the hell did he chose to run away?

Closing his eyes Adrian could easily picture the look on your face, as your eyes stared at him hungrily causing his combat trousers to feel very tight all a sudden, ok right now definitely wasn’t the right time to be having these thoughts.

Jumping down from the tall wall which was an obvious mistake because Adrian almost lands funny on his left ankle which would have really finished his mood off to say the least, why the hell wasn’t anything distracting him around here when all he could think about was you.

You decide to hold off heading back to the apartment the next morning until you really had to for work, hoping against hope that Adrian wasn’t there you needed to just avoid him for a while and gather your thoughts together, or failing that really try to stop picturing him in the kitchen with that fitted towel wrapped around his slim waist.

On Saturday you reward yourself with an extra shot of coffee in your first drink of the day, courtesy of Karma coffee and the fact that you had successfully avoided Adrian, for three whole days but you had kind of secretly missed the guy.

But now it was time to face reality because sure Adrian we super hot underneath his clothes, but even though you didn’t really know much about the guy, you knew there was more to him than that you just hadn’t figured out what yet.

Besides being really sweet and a good cook of breakfast foods, at least there were two solid reasons already to believe he was a nice guy, but you wasn’t after that because you knew hooking up with Adrian would be a terrible idea.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Scott doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up, he reminds you of somebody else actually but the only difference is you would actually let Adrian talk.

“So, did you see the news last night?” Scott asks you again for at least the eighteenth time which makes you roll your eyes.

Two colleagues had called in sick today so you were helping out, around the front counter with Scott and Phoebe, who was hanging onto his every word.

Ok, if truth be told you didn’t want to hide in the office you had wanted to see these two idiots but right this second, you were kind of regretting that decision.

“I don’t watch the news-“

“Even I watch the news Y/N.” Phoebe scoffs at you which makes you smirk back.

“Well, if you had watched it then you would have seen how Vigilante kicked ass last night-“

“Yes we all know your a fanboy of this so called hero Vigilante.” You interrupt Scott with a laugh winding him up because it was so easy.

“I am not a fanboy I know-“

“You do get kinda excited when you talk about this Vigilante dude a lot, kind of like a tween at a boyband concert.”Giggles Phoebe making you laughing because she had actually made a funny joke for once.

“Says you looking all pop princess there with pink dye streaks in your hair!” Scott retorts lamely but then wanting to carry on his rant continues “Vigilante is an actual badass, sure two out of four of those dudes died from gun wounds but he’s out there making a difference.”

“How do you know it’s a guy?” Phoebe asks Scott who momentarily looks caught out but then he quickly states “I don’t know of course but what I do know is that they are a badass.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” You deadpan with a grin causing Scott to narrow his eyes at you.

“Like how can you not watch the news? It’s important and this, Vigilante, is doing way more than what the local PD could ever dream of doing!” Scott declares proudly causing Phoebe to nod at him in agreement, it seemed she was easily lead on.

“First off Vigilante what a lazy name choice? And secondly I chose to not watch the news as my choice, and not wanting to see this quote un quote anti hero, out saving people when I’m pretty sure he’s more serial killer than hero at this point.” You state calling time on this conversation but according to Scott they were just getting started.

Of course there was a queue of customers out the door with Scott working the register, Phoebe prepping the drinks and you with your back to everyone focusing on using the coffee machine which liked to be temperamental on a good day.

“How is Vigilante a serial killer?” Scott half snorts half yells at your back whilst you was preparing coffee shots for a couple of tall lattes.

“Being linked to multiple murders around here kind of makes you one of those don’t you watch murder documentaries on Netflix?” You tell Scott sweetly turning round to see him roll his eyes, as he had given up talking to you in favour of Phoebe.

This you didn’t mind one single bit right this second, hoping that the subject would swiftly change, and we could all work a little quicker together to get this line down.

But of course the topic of the day is still Vigilante because both of them talk at great length, and at high volume causing some of the customers in line, to pull faces at what they are discussing.

“Usually the victims are known criminals so in a way he is helping the local community, the police try to track them but Vigilante normally finds them first.” Scott informs Phoebe who is nodding back eagerly waving a bottle of caramel sauce around in her left hand.

“The news don’t often go into too much detail but that’s what the internet is for I’ve seen so many sick pictures-“

“Can you two quit it!” You snap at them both but a guy next in line begins sarcastically “No, keep talking I haven’t got anywhere else to be I’m totally interested in the absolute shit you’re talking about.”

“Hey listen-“

“Sorry sir!” You cut off whatever Scott was about to say to apologise to the customer, feeling shitty for doing so but it was your job, you were the supposed supervisor of this place.

Taking his order personally you feel bad for sucking up to the creep, but afterwards Scott apologises and you say it’s fine, just less murder talk at the front of the shop please.

Heading out back to finally get on with some work you try to focus on something, just anything to get your roommate out of your head, but it’s useless.

On the one hand it was great to have someone else occupying your mind who wasn’t the ex, but on the other hand you hadn’t been expecting Adrian to be so different to how you had always pictured him.

He was sweet, kind of funny at times and to have asked about the phone calls you were getting perhaps you should be giving the guy a bigger chance, at what you weren’t exactly sure yet.

“Hey, we kind of need your help out the front?” Phoebe tells you with a giggle a little while later, not like she was actually panicking or anything hell she sounded pretty chill about the whole thing.

“Like right now?” You ask not sure what was happening right this second, but Phoebe nods enthusiastically so with a sigh you follow her out the front.

Not exactly sure with what you were about to be met with, you did not imagine the tall blonde guy standing in front of the cash register, in a blue suit looking pretty damn good if you were being honest with yourself.

“I just wanted to introduce you to my older brother Adam.” Phoebe grins widely at you whilst your eyes widen in return, not knowing whether to laugh or cry right now.

“Good to finally meet you.” Adam winks at you with a cheeky grin, they guy was cute but he knew this fact you could obviously see by the confident look on his face.

“I’ve never heard of you-“

“Sure I’ve told you about Adam before, he is around town for a few days maybe you two could go out for a beer or something?” Phoebe cuts in with a rehearsed voice, whilst you glare at her knowing full well what she was up to.

“Sounds perfect-“

“I can’t!” You cut off Adam who looks down at you with his wide blue eyes that briefly distract you, until you spot Scott walking back inside the coffee shop and he wasn’t alone.

“Oh sure, I’m busy you’re busy this is a stupid idea I best get back to, er what I was doing before.” Adam nods and with an unreadable look aimed at his sister as he heads off.

“Why did you do that?” You hiss at Phoebe who looks in shock for a moment.

“I’ve never actually seen anyone say no to my brother before!” Phoebe’s eyes widen whilst you roll yours listening to the barista talk at length, about how good a guy her older brother is and she could give you his number.

“I’m not interested-“

“Is it because Adrian’s here?” Phoebe asks with a childish smile, but your thankful that she doesn’t says this out loud.

“Can somebody do some actual work around here?” You snap quietly because you were right by the counter, and three middle aged women were giving you curious looks, having seen you talking to Adam who had been so good looking.

“Ok boss!” Phoebe grins heading to the cash register whilst you wonder what in the hell had she been thinking, inviting her brother along for you to meet sure it was a nice offer he had been pretty hot, but you didn’t want to start having everyone try and set you up with their brother or even worse dentist.

More importantly, why hadn’t you said yes to meeting up with him? Shaking your head you turn away from Phoebe and finally focus on Adrian who was stood near the counter in his Fennel Fields uniform, complete with a cute smile on his face.

The very smile makes your stomach flip nervously which was new and you don’t like it one bit, clearly blaming seeing him emerge several days ago from the bathroom like a nerdy Adonis…

“You look a little flushed there.” Winks Scott making you glare at the barista, as he stands besides Phoebe who was chatting to the ladies she had just served.

“So, what are you having the usual?” Scott asks his oldest friend who was trying not to look at you, whilst you kept your eye on Phoebe you must have looked ridiculous.

“Caramel, just all the caramel and a little coffee!” Adrian nods in the affirmative using both his hands to readjust his burgundy hat he had to wear at work, causing some of his hair to ping out at the sides, making you stop yourself from sighing out loud like an idiot, what was wrong with you.

Whilst Scott gets to work on his drink, Adrian notices the way you were looking at him which was surprising, because he had been sure you’d been pretty much avoiding him.

“So, how goes it roomie?” Adrian asks to break the concentration on your face, watching your eyes glance up at the top of his head then back down your eyes meeting up instantly.

“I’m busy.” You tell Adrian turning round to grab the green folders, you had bought out here earlier but they had clearly been moved.

“Okay then!” Adrian states whilst your back is still turned to him, you don’t see the pained look that briefly passes across his features.

You spot the folders by the counter deciding to carry on the facade of looking busy, whilst you listened to the conversation around you, trying to make sense of today and why it sucked so much.

If only you had said yes to Adam then you wouldn’t be standing here, recalling how great Adrian had looked in his towel like some lovesick teenager, this thing was escalating right before your eyes.

“So you don’t like Vigilante then?” Adrian asks you after talking a long gulp on his drink, causing his Adam’s apple to bob up and distract you.

“I don’t watch the news that often.” You reward him with a shrug, as Adrian looks a little smug suddenly and you have absolutely no idea why.

“Yeah but Vigilante is like a hero, and I think he’s kind of hot.” Laughs Phoebe whilst you widen your eyes at her admission.

“But he’s a killer-“

“I think Vigilante is so cool!” Cuts in Adrian causing Scott to give his friend a look, one that you can’t read and this point in time you couldn’t care less.

“How do you know if it’s a guy even?” You ask Phoebe who shrugs and mumbles something but you don’t ask her to repeat herself.

“Either way they are pretty heroic and fucking badass!” Adrian cheers going to high five Phoebe who lets him what the hell was going on here.

“Could you imagine how romantic it would be to be rescued by Vigilante?” Phoebe swoons which you notice gets Adrian’s full attention, as he stands his full height against the counter.

Luckily there were hardly any customers you notice watching the ladies from earlier, giggling and chatting away making you briefly miss Lara, the pair of you working here together when you had first rolled into Evergreen.

Finding friendship in the mutual dislike of the town and both pretty much surviving on coffee throughout your shifts, until one day Lara had an opportunity to change careers, and now she works in an office instead still moaning about how shit this town was.

It was only a matter of time before the pair of you ended up Thelma and Louise-ing it out of here, the very idea brings a brief smile to your face.

Looking up causes said smile to fall off your face and annoyance to appear behind your eyes, when you spot Adrian and Phoebe chatting at the counter still, whilst you had been lost in your own thoughts.

Scott had left them to it yelling something loudly at one of the kitchen staff out back, but your eyes were focused on Phoebe instead and how she was taking this in her stride, standing close to Adrian leaning over the counter to hear him talk.

Thankfully you end up seeing an elderly couple walk in and set to work serving them, because it appeared everyone else was busy, there was a metaphor there but you were too annoyed to consider it right now.

Setting to work you start to make the coffees like it was second nature, but you end up swearing loudly when you knock over one of the espresso shots, needed to make the cappuccino’s hot liquid pouring over your hand in the process.

“Ow! Fuck!” You snap grabbing at the espresso cup before it fell off the counter and caused more of a mess.

Looking from your hand you see three pairs of eyes watching you, Adrian looking like he wanted to climb over the counter and help, but you tell Phoebe to take over as you head out to the kitchen.

“Too much coffee, I’ve had too much coffee that’s all!” You tell yourself out loud and very disbelievingly because you had very little else to blame this on, and now you were swearing on front of customers that was sure to lead to a complaint.

With your back to the door you don’t notice Scott walking into the kitchen until it’s too late, and you turn round to face him grinning at you.

“Who would have thought that Adrian and the pop princess out there have literally so much in common!” Scott begins instead of actually asking if you were ok or anything like a normal person.

But there is no denying the slice of jealously that cuts across your stomach but you chose to ignore it, how could you have gone from thinking very little of Adrian to, all of this so soon.

“My hands fine thanks.” You tell Scott trying to change the focus, as you use your other hand to switch off the tap your red skin stinging but just some cream on that would put it right, shame there wasn’t some miracle to stop you from freaking out around Adrian.

“Oh sure! We’ve all burned ourselves on that thing before what I’m more interested in is what distracted you enough to have that accident.” Scott asks with a laugh thinking he was being funny but you was ready to inflict pain.

“I was distracted by your shouting.” You tell him matter of factly which makes him roll his eyes, and you ignore him as you head back out to the counter deciding to drink water from now on, no more coffee.

Thankfully Adrian has gone but you do notice the look Phoebe gives you, as you go to grab your folders and actually get on with some work.

“Adrian is pretty funny I wasn’t sure because he is a bit nerdy but chatting to him just then about Vigilante he was like a whole different guy.” Phoebe explains to you with an excited smile as she announces in a low voice “He is pretty cute too don’t you think?”

“I’ve grown out of cute I can’t-“

“You never grow out of liking cute guys!” Phoebe admonishes making you roll your eyes for the eighth time at least in this hour alone.

“So you think the guy who you normally tease and wind up is cute all of a sudden?” You ask Phoebe in a confused voice.

“I’ve just seen the way you look at him-“

“Ok, enough of this conversation now! Thanks for helping me earlier when I burned myself.” You cut in with a sincere smile on your face.

“That was when I noticed you staring at Adrian like you thought he was a legit snack, and it made me kind of see it too.” Phoebe winks at you as you go to say something but thinking better of it you end up heading to the office instead.

The thought of Phoebe actually liking Adrian strikes you as weird to begin with, but as you start on some paper work for today that changes to a sudden sting of annoyance, making you wonder the hell why?

…maybe it was time to actually switch to decaf.

{TAGLIST} comment to join❤️

@angiekurosaki @joelsgun @aprilfire18 @likeficsinthewnd @druigss @tiannamortis @dazzledamazon @uncle-eggy

[proserpina-magnus]

hi! If you take requests can you write a reader x Remus fluff? where they are usually studying together and helping each other out, talking about books etc. it is obvious for everyone that they like each other, but not for them.

maybe the reader could be a little shy, but really positive? and Remus is completely smitten by her and also feels protective of her?

whatever you decide I’m sure it will be amazing, hope it’s not too much

thank you for your work, you’re truly amazing!

heyy, this has been in my inbox for weeks and I'm so sorry this took so long!! I loved how descriptive you where and I hope that you don't mind that I changed the plot just a tad. Remus kind of confesses to being a werewolf soo.. I hope you like it!! xoxo

Monsters Need Love Too [ R.L ]

word count: 2.5k

[ warnings: female reader, slight jealously, tears, slight possessive behavior/words, clothes sharing, first kisses, had holding, scars, slight talk about violence, Remus's friends embarrass him, flattering ]

editor: @breakingniconicokneecaps

Remus anxiously tapped his foot, you had promised him that you both would meet up for a study session before a big potions test. You had been running late, caught up with fixing your hair or finding missing quills.

Remus kept looking towards the library door, tapping his fingers on the wooden table. There had been cracks of brown throughout the wood, Remus watched eagerly towards the doors as his dainty finger traced over the dark spiral wooden pattern.

He felt his heart putter against his rib cage, a nervous sensation creeping into his mind as he started to worry about you. It had been 10 minutes since you both originated the time to meet up, Remus was just about to stand to go look for you, but you had just hurried into the library.

He watched your frantic state walk swiftly towards him, your hair pinned back with loose strands. He smiled, pushing the chair beside him open. You flopped yourself down onto the opened chair, your books and papers left a thud as you dropped them onto the desk.

"So sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my assignment, I might have to re-do it all," you stammered, opening your books with marked stamps. You sighed, before giving a smile towards Remus. "Oh well, at least I'll have a better understanding of the material,"

Remus looked lovingly towards you, rubbing his sweaty hands on his slacks. He looked towards his own opened book, moving his papers around as he passed you his finished assignment.

"If you want, you can take a look at mine," Remus suggested, but you only shook your head and looked back towards a student who sat across a few tables. The guy you smiled at was Amos Diggory, the captain of Hufflepuff's quidditch team. Amo's had combed back messy blond hair, a boyish grin on his face as he waved towards you. Remus followed your gaze, catching the small interaction. He felt a sense of urgency to have your attention back on him.

"That's alright rem, Amo said he would help me later. Let's work on potions shall we?" You said, guiding your attention back to your books. Remus gave a disgruntled sound, his leg bouncing as it tapped into yours.

"You alright?" You asked, knees twitching every time his own knocked into yours. Remus hummed, lips thin as he focused down on his book. You felt like you did something wrong, a frown forming as you flipped some pages.

After a few moments of awkward silence, your eyes travelled towards the taller male. He was hunched over his book, his hand in a fist that rested on his bouncing thigh.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you mad I'm late?" You mumbled quietly, leaning forward as Remus turned his gaze to you. He saw your pleading eyes, a sad pout on your lips at the thought of upsetting him. Remus concluded that you were just too cute to be mad at, not that he was prior.

"No, I'm not mad," Remus huffed, tearing his eyes away from yours. Truth be told, Remus had no idea why he was so upset. You mumbled at his lame lie, your fingers tracing his wrist as you glided your hand to open up his fist. Remus jerked at the faint touch, eyes pouring at the connecting hands.

"You seem mad," you whispered gently, trying not to cause attention in the silent room. Remus brought his gaze back to your face, seeing your beautiful eyes and a small welcoming smile on your lips. His fingers opened, your own wiggling between them.

"How could I possibly be mad when you look like that," Remus blurted, in a daze. You flushed red at the compliment. You wanted so desperately for him to kiss you, Remus felt the same exact way. Before a gentle kiss could be shared, you turned back around and faced towards your book.

"You flatter too much," you teased, your shoulder bumping in with his. You didn't dare take your fingers away from his, liking the way his scars felt rigid and warm against your palm.

"I don't think I flatter enough," Remus stated, his eyes still trained on your adoring profile. You flushed once more, a swirl in your stomach from his words. Remus gushed himself at your flustered state, denying himself the right to lean in and place a kiss against your red cheeks.

"You know what I think?" You ask, turning your head so you can take a long look into his eyes. Remus leaned forward, his nose almost brushing yours. "What do you think?" He asked in response, his voice a low hum.

"I think if anyone should be flattered, it's you. You're a very attractive young man, if I do say so myself Mr. Remus," you flaunt, a giggle on your lips as you close your eyes from the laugh. Remus smiles, watching the way your cheeks rose with your smile. He was absolutely adoring your giggle form, but it was soon to be crushed by his friends.

"Uh- hello! What's going on here?" Sirius's voice boomed through, the three boys marched over to you two. Your hand fell away from Remus's, a small frown on your lips before you replaced it with a smile.

"We're just studying," you say sweetly, turning around so you can get a good look at them. Sirius raises an eyebrow, a suggestive gaze in his eyes as he stares between you two. Remus grows anxious, wanting his friends to leave as soon as possible.

"Studying what? Human anatomy?" Sirius jeers, a smirk on his lips as he leans closer. James and Peter laugh, obvious to Remus's dire crush on you.

You turn to mush at the gesture, turning back to your book as you hide your glowing face. Remus notices, upset at the way they were getting you embarrassed.

"Leave it pads, go bug off, all three of you," Remus sends a low growl to the male, but the rest of the boys only laugh and continue to talk. James pushes a seat open next to you, Remus giving him a dangerous glare.

"She's very pretty" James gushed, one of his fingers poking your sides. You squirm, but decide to be polite and smile towards James. You can't even tell him a thank you before Remus is telling them off.

"Prongs, get up and piss off," Remus states, his hand wrapping around the leg of your chair as he scoots you away from him. You grab your stuff, placing it in front of you. James frowns, tilting his head to give Remus a puppy dog expression.

"Can I stay?" Peter asked his own pout on his lips. Remus sighs loudly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No,"

"But moony!" They all chant at once, shushes and glares get shared between you all. Remus sighs one more time, deciding not to freak out and yell at all of them in front of you. The tall brunette collects his stuff, pushing it into his bag in a messy hurry. You frown, watching him pack up. You thought he was leaving with his friends, but Remus starts to take your own books and papers. With his empty hand grabbing yours, He pulls you up, tugging you out the door.

The rest of the boys shout behind him, trying to follow you both. Remus leads you down the hallway, a smile on his lips as he pats your shoulder for some comfort. "One second love, just wait here,"

Remus speeds over to the boys at the other end of the hall, far away enough for you not to hear them. They start to argue, hearing Remus raise his voice. Soon enough, the three boys look towards the ground and scoot away down the opposite hallway.

Remus jogs back over to you, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. You bring out your hand, making a grabbing gesture. He places his hand into yours, taking the lead as he guides you down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" You questioned, stepping down the switching staircases. Remus turns briefly at the end of the steps, waiting for it to connect with another. "It's a sunny day, let's go sit on the dock,"

"What about our potions test?" You asked, following Remus down the now given steps. He steps onto the cobblestone floors, helping you off the last step.

"It's not until Friday, we have plenty of time tomorrow. You deserve a break," Remus states, pushing open a thin wooden door out towards the back of the huge castle. He takes you down the small hill, holding your hand to protect you from tripping.

"Watch your step," he says, stepping down the small steep hill. His other hand holds your waist, squeezing it between his fingers as he helps you down.

"You're my saviour," you whisper in gratitude, leaning more towards him. The air gets thicker and the breeze grows colder as you step towards the doc.

"You get pleased too easily," Remus comments, his hand squeezing yours. You turn your head, tilting it as you walk against the wooden space.

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask, Remus looked over at you briefly. He has an unreadable face before he shakes his head.

"No, unless you're thanking the wrong person," Remus explains, walking further along the doc. He helps you sit first, following suit as his legs sprawl out. He has much longer limbs, you giggle as he stretches.

"Everyone's so nice, who could possibly be the wrong person?" You wonder, head leaning against his shoulder. Remus sighs, answering that question quickly in his intrusive thoughts. You shiver, tugging your skirt down towards your knees.

"What? Do you think you're bad?" You ask, lifting your head to get a clear look at the boy. Remus lets his head lean down, a frown on his face. You hold a confused expression, your heart aching at the thought. Before you can think, your fingers tilt his head. Remus looks with wide eyes, seeing your saddened expression.

"Remus, you're the nicest person I've ever met," you explain, emotion in your eyes as you talk to him. Remus screams at himself, knowing you had no idea what he really was.

"You need to meet new people," he jokes, but you only shake your head with a deeper frown.

His heart beats quickly, your eyes guiding down to his chapped lips. He picks up instantly on your intentions and he has no remorse to stop them.

Your eyes shut on instinct, lips moving closer to his. Your head tilts, nose brushing against his as you connect mouths. Remus expresses a content sigh, his own eyes closed. His fingers lace through the back of your hair, pulling you closer.

"You don't understand," Remus sighs after the kiss, eyes whisking open. You flutter your eyelashes, sitting back on your legs. You frown, thinking he didn't like the kiss.

"Then make me understand," you tell him, heart hammering inside your chest so loud you might go deaf. Remus smiles, one of his hands still occupied with yours. His other hand cups your face, sliding it through your loose hair.

"You'll hate me once I tell you," Remus whispers, feeling tears burn his eyesight. He wishes he'd never got bitten, he didn't want you to think he was some sort of monster.

You shake your head, leaning closer as you kiss his lips once more. Remus pulls you in, addicted to the way your mouth tastes. He pushes you back slightly, feeling guilty for not telling you what he truly is.

"I'm a werewolf," Remus says, ripping off the bandaid. You blink a few times, not comprehending what he just said. Your eyes dangle down to his scarred hands, your soft thumb tracing a particularly big one.

"Does it hurt?" You quip, eyes looking back into his. Remus feels instantly loved at your small little reaction, his heart swelling as he realizes that you only care whether he's hurt, not that he turns into a killer creature every full moon.

"No," Remus lied, a tear falling from his eye. You nod, happy with his answer. Your cold fingers come to wipe away the lost tear. you lean in for another kiss, but Remus pushes you back.

"I'm a werewolf," he states once again, you nod in understanding. "I can kill you,"

"Do you want to hurt me?" You mumble, Remus feels worried build up from just thinking about it. He shakes his head, head falling as he lets out more tears.

"Then it doesn't matter," you finish, leaning down so you can get your much wanted kiss. Remus leans into it, another sigh on his lips as he pulls you closer. The waves crash against the doc, coating the wood just in front of you with seeping water.

"I can't control myself in that state, I could hurt you," Remus whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping around your sides as he pulls you in. You sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"No, the werewolf would hurt me. It's not your fault, you can't control it," you tell him, sticking with your conclusion. Remus would never dare hurt you and you knew that.

"You're too good, what is a monster like me doing with you, hm?" Remus says, his fingers tilting your chin as he places a generous kiss against your cold lips. A smile decorated on your mouth, you shift closer to him. His body was so warm and you felt so cold, you were almost slipping under his coat for warmth.

"You're no monster," you whisper, Remus notices your shivering body. He felt sick for taking you out to the cold doc, tugging off his coat quickly as he props it on your shoulders.

"I monster wouldn't let his girl freeze to death," he contorts, rubbing your arms to get you to warm up. Your face heats at his words, you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, leaning closer as you shift onto his lap. Remus's long limbs curl around you, bringing you closer as he protects you from the now vicious wind. His hair whips in every direction, the wind so tough you can hear it.

"Yes, you're my girl," Remus juts, standing up with ease as you cling onto him. He adjusts you easily, hiding you inside his big coat. Your head rests against his chest, his arms hiking around your bottom to carry you up the hill.

"All yours," you mumble, happy with the soft protection he was offering. Your arms link around his neck, not daring to let go as he opens up the wooden door once again. He carries you inside, looking around as he spots his friends. They all gap with their mouth wide open, pointing.

"All mine," Remus mutters to you, speeding away from his frantic friends. You keep your eyes closed, letting him take you to wherever he pleases.

[chewriting]

This was supposed to be a little snippet of Kit talking to Hazel about the reason why they broke up and it sort of got away from me. I can't explain how it evolved the way it did. I'm sorry about any potential typos as I wrote it in an angst filled fervor but I'm not sorry about the subject.

Content Warnings: extensive talk about death, just generally not a great time

Sitting on the stairs of the London Institute, watching Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike ready for war, makes Kit feel fifteen again. Though it’s been three years since he was forced to sit aside while Livia’s Watch marched Brocelind to meet the Cohort–even if Kit would have stayed behind without being magically chained to a tree–he doesn’t feel any more prepared. Three years wasn’t enough time to bounce between Cirenworth and the Exeter Institute to become a formidable threat. Sometimes his arms still shake under the weight of certain weapons. He’d be embarrassed if he could collect enough emotion to form it. 

So, he stays quiet, eye flicking between small groups readying themselves in their own ways. Shadowhunters strapping thick leather pieces over their chests and shoulders, hoping it’d be enough to stop a swinging blade, at least briefly. The Downworlders are noticeably less dressed-up, but not noticeably less deadly. Vampires run their tongues over sharpened canines as they speak amongst themselves and werewolves bounce on the balls of their feet or chase friends around to work off restless energy. Several groups back, Kit thinks he can make out the bright-pink updo of the Chagford pack leader. 

A small part of him wishes he knew all their names, or any other identifying characteristics so he wouldn’t have to meet them as another on a long list of lives lost. But in the end, it wouldn’t affect him too much as he’s expecting to be added to that list. 

It’s why he’s sitting aside, watching instead of warming up his arms with a few practice strikes. It’s why he hasn’t been able to meet anyone’s eyes since entering the Sanctuary. It’s why he carefully blended into the crowd when he spotted Jem stretched over the crowd, searching. The knowledge of his impending death weighs heavy in his stomach, jostling the turkey and tomato sandwich he wolfed down earlier into a cramping torrent. 

It’s scary, the idea of dying. But Kit’s known it’s what has to happen for weeks. He had only hoped that on the day of he’d have a more resigned acceptance than jittery fear. 

His knee bounces on the step below him–fatigued from prolonged stress in his position or anxiety, he can’t tell–and it’s distracting enough that Kit doesn’t immediately notice when someone sits down next to him. They don’t immediately speak and Kit doesn’t know how strong his voice will come out if he tries to say anything, so he spares a glance out the corner of his eye. Kit’s heart clenches for an entirely new reason as his body hasn’t shut down quite yet.

“Shouldn’t you be over there, with all the other Shadowhunters?” Hazel asks, her curls bouncing as she cocks her head at him.

“Shouldn’t you be with the other werewolves?” Kit shoots back, hoping she’ll see he’s not in the mood and leave him alone.

She doesn’t grimace at his comment; she doesn’t really react at all. It’s one of the reasons Kit was so drawn to her when they were fifteen: she let all of Kit’s barbed remarks and pointed defenses bounce right off her like they were nothing but styrofoam peanuts. “I don’t really have a reason to, as I’m not fighting.”

Of which Kit is thankful. Despite his most self-deprecating thoughts revolving around how he may have never really cared about her and that she was just a placeholder for someone he’d never get to have, Kit truly cares about Hazel. He doesn’t know how he’d react if her name came up as those lost. 

Kit nods but doesn’t say anything else. It’s like Hazel can feel Kit’s hesitation coming off him in waves, as she leans closer into his space. She still smells like the celebrity perfume she buys discount and the collar of her jacket still has a bleached spot when they tried to impromptu dye her ends with Kool-Aid. Just sitting next to her is nostalgic and painful altogether.

“Are you not fighting either?” She asks. Kit ignores the hopeful upturn of her voice. The constant fighting of being a Shadowhunter always worried her.

“I am. I just don’t feel like discussing the optimal way to sever someone’s arm from their torso.”

Hazel does grimace at that. “Coming up with your own plan?”

“Something like that.”

It’s vague, just skirting around a lie. Kit wonders if he should tell her the truth. It’s been all but eating away at him: knowing that he’s got going to make it out of the battle alive but unable to make final goodbyes without raising alarms. Shadowhunters don’t go into battle expecting to die. If he at all seems too prepared to not return, people will start asking questions. 

Maybe he can still get some guilt off his chest, especially since Hazel has always known him for being dramatic. 

“Hey,” he starts, finally twisting to look at her face to face. She’s really grown into her features, much as Kit did. The strong jut of her jawline now matches her sharp cheekbones and the hair she used to wrestle day and night with is expertly contained in tight side buns. Sometimes he’ll see a picture of her on Instagram and not be able to connect the face on his phone screen to the one he dated at fifteen. She finally managed to master the wrist-flick eyeliner. “I know it’s kinda late, but I wanted to officially apologize for how we broke up.”

“Oh?” It bubbles out of her throat like a laugh. Kit hasn’t heard her laugh in a long time. 

“Yeah. I’ve just been thinking about it recently. And I feel like you got the short end of the stick there.”

“Kit, it was three years ago. I’m over it.”

“I know.” He looks up at the ceiling. Tapestries of stars, runes, and swords sway without any wind. “I just felt stupid. I actually broke up with you because I was too scared to ask if you were a werewolf.”

Hazel fully laughs now, the sound causing a few heads to turn. “Kit that’s fucking ridiculous.”

“I know! It’s dumb!” Kit cries, flopping back onto the stairs. Their edges dig into the divots of his spine but he pays it no mind. 

“You could have always just asked. It wasn’t like I was actively trying to hide it from you.”

“I can see that now.”

“Kit I like, never eat sugar.”

“I know.”

“Church hated me!”

“Church hates everyone!”

Hazel giggles, sounding more like a hiccup, before sobering. They stare at each other for a while, sky blue meeting olive green. She sighs and lays next to Kit.

“When we broke up, I was pretty upset. I thought we were good together. Deep down I didn’t think we were going to be together forever, but at least a few months longer.” She looks down at Kit’s hands, clasped over his stomach. There are several new scars that weren’t there last time she was close enough to look. “But the more I thought about it. I realized something.”

She looks back up at Kit’s face. Somehow, Kit knows he’s not going to like what she’ll say. “That your reason was just an excuse.”

Kit’s heart kicks up. “Well yeah. I just said it’s because I couldn’t make myself ask if you were a werewolf and then it became too late to reasonably ask.”

“No, Kit, that’s just an excuse too. There’s something deeper,” she persists. Kit definitely doesn’t like what she’s implying. He jolts back up, leaning against his hands in a poor attempt to look casual. The rigidity of his shoulders gives away how upset he truly is. 

“Hazel, I was young and stupid. I really didn’t have deep trauma tied to our breakup.”

Of course, since she’s known him for years, the lie fails like a musket misfiring. But she backs away regardless, placating hands coming up between them.

“I know you don’t owe me anything. I can accept young and stupid. I’m really only saying anything in case you didn’t feel it too.”

He risks a look across the Sanctuary. It’s hard to get a clear view, as this is not the epiphany scene at the end of a rom-com and people keep passing in front of him, but Kit finds him easily as he was aware the second he arrived and has made a note of his every movement since. Ty. This isn’t the first time Kit’s seen him in full Centurion garb, but it has yet to not cause his breath to catch. He’s supposed to be authoritative, in his military-style undercoat and shiny shin-guards, but Kit can’t help but think he looks like a prince. 

Ty doesn’t notice Kit’s attention, too caught up in his conversation with a few of the other graduates from his class. He’s gesturing animately to a notebook in his hands. None of them look bored or exasperated to be getting orders from someone younger. Kit feels the corners of his mouth quirk up minutely. 

“Unless you already knew.” It’s enough to snap Kit back to his conversation with Hazel. The look she gives him is knowing, though the pinch in her eyebrows makes it look like she’s in pain. 

A familiar burn makes its way back up his chest. He’s gone months without feeling it, with finally talking to Ty again being enough to ease some of the aches he’s learned to live with since Los Angeles. Their relationship still isn’t great and Kit will probably never reach the level they once had. But Ty confided in him for certain snags in his investigations and they were actually able to patrol a few times in relative silence. 

It strikes Kit that, since these are his last few moments, he’ll never actually be able to make amends with Ty. 

“It doesn’t matter. Just puppy love that’s overstayed it's welcome.” Kit wants to be able to brush it aside. Talk about it with a steady and detached voice. But he’s hardly told anyone about how he still feels about Ty. Brushing around the truth feels like digging his fingernail into a new scab. His newest realization feels like someone tore the entire thing off, blood and serum pooling as his skin throbs. 

“Does he know?” Hazel asks because she’s somehow gained the ability to ask just the right questions for the hot knife in Kit’s heart that he had hoped was long cooled to twist. 

“He knows. He just doesn’t feel the same way,” Kit mutters. It feels too real, saying it out loud. He’s thought it to himself on multiple occasions. But somehow getting the words into the real world cements them. Makes them true. 

“Oh. I’m really sorry Kit.” She sounds genuine and the press of her palm against his shoulder is comforting and gentle. Though he knows her mind could change if she knew the whole story. But he can’t share all the details without possibly giving up Ty’s crime. It does feel nice though, to have someone listen and offer sympathy. As if he’s just a boy with unrequited feelings. 

He rests his temple against her shoulder, the angle slightly off as he’s grown a few inches taller than her. Without him noticing, tears begin to drip down his cheeks. Hazel’s arms come up to tightly squeeze Kit’s shoulders and he lets her. He lets her believe he’s crying over a boy. He lets her believe she’s comforting him through a brief moment of heartbreak. He lets her cheek rest against the top of his head while he mourns his own life.

Kit doesn’t want to die, a feeling he might have not been able to share three years ago. He has a family now, a little sister. Who he’ll never get to see grow up. He had just started to get the hang of throwing daggers and now he’ll never get to feel the pride radiating off Jem when he inches ever closer to a bullseye. The magic Tessa had worked so hard to help him hone buzzes angrily underneath his skin, frustrated by its owner's weakness. There will be no more days beginning with fresh chocolate pastries Jem brought back after his walk, no more mid-afternoon naps with Mina cradled against his chest on the couch, no more movie nights buzzing with excitement to show his favorites to Tessa. 

Then there’s Ty. He blew all his chances to suck it up and apologize. All the perfect moments of them alone in the library, gone. That night on the roof, with Livvy floating just off the edge acting like a referee in their biggest argument, wasted potential. Ty sticking around as Kit got patched up after a run-in with the fae that nearly left Kit headless, the words clung against his throat. He’ll never know that Kit is sorry, so fucking sorry, that he’s just too afraid to hear how he’s nothing again to actually get it out. 

He sniffles into the lapel of Hazel’s jacket. It would be embarrassing if he could muster the energy to care. The only hope is that people are minding their business. Her hands dip to scratch soothing circles into his back. The pattern acts like a magnet, drawing all his tension out of his shoulders to follow her manicured nails.

Even when the tears dry, he keeps his head down. He can’t possibly catch someone’s gaze with puffy, red eyes. Something settles in his chest. Like a drop of water calming a raging reservoir. Like a fire dying to a smolder. Like wind finally letting up to leave perfect silence behind. 

“Hazel?” Kit asks.

Her nails don’t stop their circling of his spine. “Yeah Kit?”

“I need to ask you something, but it’s okay if you can’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“If I die,” he feels her tense and one of his hands runs down her upper arm in a soothing gesture, “if I die, can you tell my parents that I don’t want to be added to the Silent City?”

She pulls away, her eyes like stones. Her mouth is pressed into a harsh line and the perceived pain in her eyebrows is obvious now. “You don’t?”

Kit shakes his head. Ever since he heard about the Silent City, how the ashes of fallen Shadowhunters become the very walls that keep it stable, Kit knew that wasn’t where he wanted what was left of his body to reside for eternity. “They can burn me. But I want my ashes to be scattered in the ocean.”

Hazel opens her mouth as if to speak but nothing comes out. She shakes her head violently and pulls Kit back into her arms. It still feels like an acceptance. 

Sadly, there’s a call for anyone not fighting to gather around Magnus so he can portal them home to safety. Hazel clings to Kit’s shoulders, shaking. A cowardly part of him wants to go with her: return to Chagford while everyone else fights in a war he has no real stake in. But even though Kit’s been a Shadowhunter for barely three years, he pulls up some of their characteristic bravery deep within his chest. They part, Hazel teary-eyed and Kit carefully neutral. It looks like there’s more she wants to say, maybe she can tell that Kit isn’t going to come back alive. Just like she knew Kit’s heart was already with someone else when they dated. She just takes a deep breath, squeezes Kit’s hand, and turns on her heel to go home. 

He can’t watch her leave, so he scans the room again to catalog everyone he even remotely cares about. Jace and Alec tower over a collection of younger Shadowhunters, flanked by Clary, Simon, and Izzy. Distantly, he can make out Emma and Julian applying runes to each other's arms more out of habit than necessity. He saw Christina showing someone how to notch an arrow in a crossbow earlier but he can’t spot her now. Dru sits cross-legged with Mark tying her hair back into a tight bun as he sharpens several daggers lining his hips. Jem and Tessa are helping to hand out weapons at one of the many tables, working until the last moment when they’ll be asked to stay behind–they have a three-year-old daughter at home. Now alone, Ty spins a bow staff around his hand absent-mindedly, scanning the crowd himself. Probably hoping to find Livvy in the crowd of nameless Shadowhunters and Downworlders. 

Kit’s still afraid, but he’s slightly more content now. His plan isn’t the easiest nor the best. But it’s the one with the least amount of casualties. Ideally just him. It’s all worth it if everyone he loves can make it back relatively unscathed. Grieving will be better than dead. 

He whispers his prophecy under his breath. All of Faerie will fall under her shadow when she reaches her full power. It applied to his ancestor and it must apply to him too. He only hopes that he’s doing the right thing, that this will prevent a disaster. There’s a smear of white in the corner of his vision. 

It’s Livvy, floating some distance away above the heads of some Shadowhunter Academy graduates. She stares right at him, face unreadable. He wonders if she can sense his incoming death, intentional or otherwise. If she even has that power. 

She tilts her head, appraising. He settles on giving her a two-fingered salute. Even though she can’t make out the details of her face, he feels like she blinks before she disappears back into the crowd.