#i have spent a few too many days before the break sitting in the library with ~5 different spanish practice and grammar books

[you-will-return]

--just a little rant dw

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 4: A Night of Song and Dance

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ your perception of elves and their stoicism changes upon seeing the way they celebrate.

Settling into life in the castle over the next few days had been made surprisingly easy. Your routine was what held you together. In the mornings, you would break your fast with Amara and Liriel. It took you a little while to warm up to them, and even still you do not reveal too much about yourself. You are still determining whether or not they report your conversations back to the king or any of his advisors. While they were pleasant and treated you with kindness, falsity could still be on the horizon. 

You would then spend a brief period in the mornings reviewing the patients and checking them for any advancements in their condition. After making those rounds and reporting to Daeron, you would sequester yourself to the library until noon. The amount of subjects and languages would never fail to awe you. Many of the books looked centuries old and a part of you was nervous handling them for fear that they would tear. 

Your eyes would begin to ache with the amount of scanning you would do. Lunches were spent in Helaena’s company, with Daeron joining briefly before quickly returning to work. Of all the people in the castle, Helaena was the one you trusted the most. She was always kind, though not much of a talker. Still, it was nice to sit with someone and eat and not have to worry about holding a proper conversation. 

After lunch, you would go back to the patients and start laboratory work with Daeron. You had been showing him how to make your concoction with the moonweed and he was still generous with his compliments on your work. While you taught him, you found yourself learning far more from his experience. It was truly a gift to have the opportunity of working with someone like him. However, during all of this, Aemond’s words still haunted you. 

I do not like to be disappointed. 

That fact loomed over your every moment, every interaction, and every breath. You had a year. Only a year to somehow solve the greatest mystery that had faced the realm in the last millennium. The absurdity of it all almost had you laughing, yet the weight kept you rooted in reality. 

It was the morning of a new day and you had been in the library for a good few hours working away at some new texts. You would occasionally write down information in your notebook. You slouched in your chair with your right elbow on the wood table and your cheek resting against your palm. It was a wonder that your eyes were still open. You got little rest that night, having tossed and turned into the early hours. Most of the information in front of you was things you already knew and you were starting to wonder if the library would have anything new to offer. 

One of the entrance doors to the library swung open. The person, an elf with silver hair that just brushed his shoulders, stumbled in. One hand gripped the doorknob tightly to maintain his balance while the other clutched a mug. His eyes scanned the area with disappointment. 

“This is not the kitchens…” A lone hiccup came from his mouth. The man was dressed in all green, with black and gold embellishments. The front of his tunic had gold thread stitched into some design that you could not quite see from the distance between you two. 

His eyes then found yours and both of his eyebrows shot up in shock, “What in the seven… are you real?” 

“Am I real?” You questioned back. You placed down the quill you were using. The man stumbled forward and placed his mug down on the table. He uncharismatically swung his legs over the long bench and sat down across from you. He rested his right elbow against the table and pointed at you. 

“Yes, are you real? Or am I seeing things?” His questions perplexed you. Why would he be seeing things? You took in his elvish features and rendered that he was drunk - well, beyond drunk. You had never seen an elf dunk nor did you think they could. They seemed too poised to participate in such matters. 

“I am real.” You looked back down at the parchment in front of you. It was covered in some description of a random plant with various sketches of it. Not what you were looking for, but had stumbled upon it nonetheless. 

“Good. I feared that I had sunk too much in my cups and became mad.” He sighed before picking his mug up and gulping down another sip of what you assumed was some kind of wine. The smell of fermented grapes hit you, though it was not much of a bother. 

“Yes,” You scanned him up and down with your eyes, “Wouldn’t want to get drunk, now would we?” Your question echoed with sarcasm but seemed to go unnoticed by the elf. 

“Are you..” He paused for a moment to get his bearings, “Are you the human that my sister told me about? The one that is working with the healers.” 

You gave him a quick nod, “Yes. I am that human. Do you mind? I am trying to work.” While in any other case, you would not mind meeting new people here, you had started to become restless in the last few hours and were in no position to try your hand at pleasantries. 

“Oh, it is rude to speak to a prince like that.” He drank from his mug again. You sat for a moment and mulled over his words. Prince? Damn, how big is this royal family? You don’t recall a brother being mentioned in your conversations with Daeron, as most of them revolved around work. With Helaena, you two just sat in silence occasionally speaking about whatever insect she happened to be fascinated with that day. 

“Who are you? And how many people are in the royal family?” You asked. 

“I’m Aegon. I’m the eldest, followed by Helaena, then Aemond, and lastly Daeron.” He explained. However, his explanation only made you more confused. Aemond was king, yet was the third born. 

“Then why aren’t you king?” You had completely forgotten about the books spread out in front of you, determined to understand the workings of such a mysterious family. 

“You wound me,” Aegon covered his heart in feigned distress before recovering, “Helaena did not wish to sit on the throne. Aemond challenged me for it. I, being the idiot, agreed to a duel.” Aegon then reached to his shirt and pulled the collar of his tunic down. There, on his pearly skin, was a nasty scar that ran down from his collarbone and disappeared under the fabric, though you assumed it went down much farther. 

“He was always the better fighter,” Aegon muttered. He released his hold on his shirt and adjusted it to cover himself again. His hands wrapped around the wooden mug, but did not sip from it. 

This gave rise to a question you had been mulling about the entire time you came here. It was always at the back of your mind, but you had been far too afraid to utter it - especially to the wrong person. However, it had been stewing for far too long and you could not resist. 

You lowered your voice to whisper, despite it only being the two of you in the library, “Is that how the king lost his eye? In your duel?” 

This question seemed to wipe any trace of drunkenness off of Aegon’s face. He sat up straighter and glared at his mug. He lifted his gaze to meet yours and there was an intensity in his eyes near paralyzing. It was not directed at you, but whatever or whoever was behind such malice would surely be dead. 

“No,” His voice was full of condemnation, “It’s best if you do not ask such a question for your safety.” 

A few moments pass, and just as you are going to continue reading, Aegon spoke, “Are you coming to the celebration tonight?” 

“What celebration?” You brought your attention back to him. You had not heard anything about a feast, but then again you do not keep up with any news regarding the castle and court. It was none of your business. You were here to work, not gossip. 

“Every week, there is a party held in one of the halls. To sing, dance, drink, and ultimately mingle. Think of it as a way to destress.” Aegon informed. To you, a party was anything but a way to relax, but you were curious about how elves did party. If it was anything as entertaining as watching Aegon stumble into the room moments ago, you would not mind attending. 

“Think about it, little human,” Aegon got up from his seat and grabbed his drink, “You are more than welcome to join.” 

He left you to ruminate. You went back to your work in silence again, but your curiousness was peaked. Perhaps it would do you some good to relax for an evening. You had done nothing but work for hours tirelessly every day. It would not be so bad, as to spend a night drinking and dancing.

Your day of work had passed and you found yourself in the familiar path of being escorted back to your room by two guards. They switched each day, so you had not bothered to get to know them. You wondered what the rotations for guards were in a castle as big as this. While you had only seen a small fraction of it, on account of you only being let in permitted spaces, it seemed ginormous. 

When you got back to your room, you opened the door to see Amara and Liriel waiting on one of the couches. You were confused, as normally they would visit you after dinner for a short period to undress you and undo your hair. When they spotted you walking in, they each got up. Amara ran off to an adjacent room that had your bath while Liriel approached. 

“Quickly, we have to get you ready.” Liriel wasted no time in grabbing your hand and dragging you to the vanity. She sat you down in the chair and began to undo your hair from the day. Amara walked back out of the room, a silken dress in hand. It happened to be your favourite colour and the fabric sparkled like gemstones. 

“Ready for what?” You questioned. 

Amara set the dress on gently on one of the couches, “For the party tonight.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing, yet that unsure feeling crept back to you. You had mulled the idea over for the day and concluded that it may not be best for you to join in. 

“Oh, I don’t know if I should go.” You spoke. Liriel ceased her ministrations on your hair and Amara froze as well. 

“There is no possible way we will let you miss this. It will be fun, we swear.” Liriel reassured you. She began to fiddle with a bunch of oils and scents laid out on the vanity desk. 

Amara helped Liriel, picking up a bottle and receiving a nod from her partner, “This one will do. Anyways, you have to go, it will be magical.” Amara began to apply the oil to your skin, infusing the most wonderful flowery scent to invade your senses. You instantly liked it and took note of the bottle. 

“I met Amara at one of these parties,” Liriel began to brush out your hair, “It was magical, truly. I saw her and just knew there was no other. A short while after we were wed.” She looked as though she was in a trance, reimagining that day. You had discovered quite recently that elves have impeccable memory and a string of envy hit you at that. What you would give to remember what little moments you had with your mother. 

“What are elvish weddings like?” You asked. Amara began to look through a jewelry box. You were not given any jewelry upon your arrival, but the two elves had gifted you a bunch of theirs as they had so much it did not matter. 

“Well, the celebrations are long, about a week. However, the ceremony is rather short. We each cut our palms with steel and hold on to one another. Some words are recited and it is sealed in a kiss.” Liriel explained. She had finished your hair and moved over to collect the dress. 

Amara moved in front of you to put on the accessories, “In elvish marriages, our souls are bonded. We feel our partner's emotions and are more in tune with them. When you bind souls, it is like your body is born anew, a feeling like no other. I had a scar on my arm and it went away.” Amara adjusted the necklace to fit perfectly and stepped back, admiring the work done so far. 

You were led out of your seat and towards Liriel who handed you the dress, “When one elf partner dies the other dies. It is seen as a good thing for us, as no one could see a life without their partner. It does not mean it has to be romantic, the bond could be platonic as well. Here, put this on. I bet it will be perfect.” 

You thank Liriel and enter the room with your stone bath. You mulled over the information you just gained as you changed out of one dress and into another. The concept of marriage in elf culture is intense. In your world, it was the simple act of exchanging rings and some vows. Matches were often arranged and not entirely pleasant. Here, it was the literal binding of souls. 

To think that two people could be so tied to one another to feel their emotions and die together, was a level of commitment that fractured your concept of the word. You shrugged on the fabric while still contemplating. Regardless of discovering a cure, if you somehow made it out of this kingdom alive at the end of the year, would there be a possibility of discovering a love like that? You had admittedly never given much thought to it. 

There was little time in your life for those pursuits. When you were young in the capital, there were boys you would play with, but it was all childhood innocence. You were still young when your father moved you two out to the countryside. In the village, the selection for people was low, and the quality even more so. You had dedicated yourself to your studies and would have most likely rejected any potential suitors had they asked. 

You emerged from the room in your dress to meet the excited squeals of Amara and Liriel. They each fuss over adjusting the silk until it looked just right. 

“No time to waste,” Amara looped her arms with you and Liriel and walked you two out of the room.

There was no sight quite like the celebration hall. It was lit up with torches and jars of fireflies. Solf banners covered parts of the trees and dark stone that made the walls. It was crowded with elves. Some sat at tables while most stood and mingled or danced. There was a large band playing music you had not heard before. It was as joyous as tavern music but had more elegance to it. Ultimately, you did not regret attending after seeing what the night had in store. 

You had little time to continue to take the room in as the call of Daeron and Aegon shook you from your reverie. You turned to see the two waving you over with excited looks on their faces. Amara and Liriel dragged you to the elves standing by one of the bar tables that held numerous kegs of wine. Your two companions bowed to the royals. 

“You decided to come.” Aegon swung one of his arms - the one not holding a chalice of wine - over your shoulder. He handed you the wine and turned behind him to get another. 

You held the drink up to your mouth and caught a whiff of its scent. Cherry, with hints of honey, hit your nose. The intensity of it made you cough lightly, to which your new friends all laughed. 

Daeron moved forward and tugged you from Aegon’s hold and beside him, “Be cautious with the wine, it is far stronger than any human brew.” He warned as he took a sip from his own cup. You decided to be brave and take a sip. Almost immediately you were sputtering. It was like the first time you had ale as a child and found yourself coughing up the liquid. Daeron patted your back with a laugh. 

“Seven hells, that warning was not enough.” You spoke. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Daeron took another gulp and wiped the edges of his mouth while scanning the room. Aegon, having downed another cup in that time, spotted some of his other friends from across the hall and proceeded to stumble his way to them. You watched on in amusement and wondered if you would ever see him sober. 

Amara and Liriel moved to the dance floor as a new song began. You watched the loving gazes they gifted one another and soft touches. It was always a pleasure to see two people in love, but something about it stabbed a small part of your heart and you did not know why. Daeron placed his cup down on a table and moved in front of you. 

He held his hand out, “Would you mind joining me in a dance?” You looked at his open palm and thought for a moment. You are not the best at dancing, but what little wine you consumed had already begun to affect you. 

“Alright, but if I break your foot that is not my fault.” You placed your hand in his and he led you to the dance floor. One of his hands moved to your waist while the other stayed holding your hand. The two of you moved with him leading. You would glance at your feet every few seconds to make sure you did not fumble. When you looked up, Amara and Liriel passed by in their dance, giggling away. 

“They look so happy.” You noted. 

Daeron nodded and spun you around, “They make a fine couple.” 

You pause for a moment before opening your mouth, “Have you met anyone?” Daeron’s face turned red, the rosy colour spreading across his cheeks. During your discussions while working, he had yet to speak on his social life. The two of you had bonded over some common interests outside of healing, but there was rarely any time to have long conversations. 

“She is a member of the royal hunting team. Sometimes she comes in with cuts or bruises from some hunt. I, uh,” Daeron stutters and falts in his steps for a moment, “I get to treat her.” 

“Then why haven’t you asked her?” You questioned. Daeron shook his head at your words as if it were a funny joke. 

“If you could see her, you wouldn’t. I can barely keep from making a bumbling fool of myself, let alone work up that kind of courage.” Daeron spun you around again as the two of your bodies moved with the other dancers in a circle. 

You looked at the elves all around, watching them drinking and laughing. Your head swivelled around and spotted more happy couples, “Would you rather spend your life cursing yourself for missing the opportunity to ask her?” 

Daeron thought over your words and you could see him working through it. In a quick turn, you almost stepped on his feet but managed to save yourself, however, Amara and Liriel were beside you and caught your fumble. They sent quick nods of encouragement to you and you gave them a small smile in return. 

“I suppose not.” He reluctantly agreed. 

“Are,” You paused for a moment and wondered if you should ask the question, “Are any people in your family married?” 

Daeron laughed, “Ah, well, Aegon is too busy with his cups to pursue such an idea as romance and Helaena has never expressed much interest in it at all. Though, I suppose that is rather lucky to dodge the keen sting of heartache. As for me, well, you know it all now.” 

“And the king?” You made eye contact with Daeron to ask that question, though you are not entirely sure why you would care. Aemond was nothing but cruel, in the brief moment of exchange between you two, and you had a hard time picturing any being tolerating him enough for romance. You did not think he had much of a heart to participate in that matter, to begin with. 

Daeron laughed even harder then, “Oh, gods, no. My brother is not interested in any of that.” 

“I thought so. Someone like that does not seem capable of it.” You let slip. You wished to swallow your words. How could you so openly insult the king, in front of his brother no less? 

“Aemond is not as bad as your kind make him out to be,” Daeron defends, “I must admit he may not be the most sensible, but all he does is protect our kind.” You took in his words and began to question the validity of the stories told to you in your youth. You learned from the history books of his cruelty and prowess on the battlefield. 

“What about,” You lowered your voice slightly, “The Great War?” It had ended centuries ago, but the scars from such gratuitous violence still cut and the blood still stained the minds and hearts of everyone. Daeron’s eyes darkened for a moment as if recalling it himself. You knew he would have been alive during that period and it once again hit you how odd it was to be among elves. They lived so long, and everyone in this room was guaranteed to be many centuries, possibly even a millennium, older than you. 

“All that my brother did was to defend our lands. What about your people? Are you telling me they did not do terrible things to protect themselves?” Daeron seemed almost lost in his memories and you instantly regretted why you had been so combative. 

“I’m sorry, Daeron. I did not mean to attack your brother like that.” You apologized. 

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, “It is alright. That is of the past and our kind’s need to stop and move on for the sake of the future. You do not need to worry about Aemond hearing this, he never comes to these parties.” 

You agreed with his reasoning, but his comment on the future threw you off, “If we have a future. With this taint…” Your voice trailed off. 

“We can fix it. I know that.” Daeron offered an encouraging smile before twirling your body around which made you slightly dizzy. 

“I just wish I had my father, he would know what to do.” You had briefly spoken to Daeron about your father's disappearance and your belief that he was still alive. It was a feeling, deep inside your heart, that he still lived. You knew he was alive, you were his child and still felt that connection. 

“Enough with the negative topics. This is your first party here, let's not ruin it.” Daeron and you made your way off of the dance floor and towards the crowds of elves mingling about. “Now, what would you like to do?” 

You hummed at his question and turned around to watch what others were doing, “I think I should like another taste of that wine.” You met his gaze with a mischievous glint in your eye. 

Daeron chuckled and patted you on the back, “Ah, that we can do.”  

The two of you ventured over to one of the many kegs to get another cup of wine. That night, you experienced the first moments of pure excitement during your stay in the kingdom. You, Amara, Liriel, Daeron, and Aegon partied into the late hours of the night, not stressing about the current weight of your dying world. 

Just for a moment, the rift between elves and humans meant nothing.

Chapter 5: The Young Elf Preview

“If I am nothing but a silly little human in over her head, what threat do I truly pose, your grace?” While your words had been aggressive, you coated them in the most flattering voice you could muster; the call of an innocent animal hiding their violence. 

Aemond regarded you for a moment as you stood there. You adjusted the weight of the books in your hands. He still was giving you a look that deeply unsettled you. You felt like a bug under his gaze, though you knew he would not treat you as gently as Helaena does to her insects. Aemond would not hesitate to squash you under his foot. 

“All humans are a threat.”

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[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.01

Sensing movement in your cell, you lunge upright and reach for your knife. It was late at night, and all the lights were out in your block. Your eyes nip as you squint to try and adjust your vision to see in the dark.

“Shit, it’s just me. Sorry,” Daryl whispers.

“Daryl? You almost gave me a heart attack.” Groaning, you lay back down. You moved so fast that your head was starting to spin. “Has something happened?”

“No.”

It has been a long day for everyone, and this would be the first night the survivors from Woodbury would spend in the prison as part of your community. You were confused about what Daryl was doing in your cell in the middle of the night, but your unspoken question was answered when he kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the top bunk. You didn’t mind him being there. In fact, it made you feel safer with him there.

Exhausted, you quickly drift back off to sleep, and in the morning, you wake just as Daryl jumps down from the top bunk. He picks up a stuffed toy Jace had thrown during the night and places it in the cot beside him.

“Daryl?” You whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m… I’m glad you're here.”

—

Six months later

Walking up the path between the fences in the courtyard, you watch as Carol hands Daryl a bowl of food. You had seen Patrick, a teenage boy, shaking Daryl’s hand, no doubt to thank him for bringing back a large deer the night before. You hated hunting but knew it was necessary to keep your growing community fed. Thankfully, the members of the prison council, including yourself, took more of an active role in different jobs, so you only joined Daryl hunting when nobody else was available to go with him.

Greeting them, you smile, “Carol, Mr. Dixon.”

“Shut up,” he says, tossing a scrunched-up napkin at you playfully. “Where are you skiving off to anyway?”

“Pee break.”

You had spent the past few hours trying to pick off walkers who were gathering by the fences. If the small clusters weren’t taken care of, the fences would start to come down. A few of the newer people brought into your community were taken aback by how unfazed your original group was while dealing with the dead. After stabbing most walkers in the head, you’d load the bodies into the back of a truck, then take them into the forest and burn them. The only downside of your community growing was the added noise attracting the dead.

“I’ll catch you guys in a bit. Be safe out there.”

—

While washing your hands, you feel eyes burning into you. You glance around but can’t see anyone else. In the bathroom; all the cubicle doors are open, and nobody was in the showers. Thinking it’s only your imagination, you go to leave the bathroom, but just before you reach the doorway, someone grabs hold of your hips.

Without looking back, you say, “I thought you were going on a run.”

Daryl’s lips trace the curve of your neck. “I am. But I wanted to say goodbye first.”

You spin around to face him and push your lips against his; the taste of cigarettes lingers on his lips. He grips your hips and pulls you in closer. There was no privacy in the prison, so it wasn’t often you got to enjoy having Daryl to yourself. He kisses your cheek, then the tip of your nose, before stepping back. “I better go. They’ll be waiting on me.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

—

“It’s a difficult decision, isn’t it?” you say playfully. “You’ve got so many toys, it’s hard to choose which one to play with first.”

Jace looks between the toys he’s holding in each hand, then throws them both down and giggles to himself. A room that was once a warden's office was now turned into a playroom for kids, and in the library, Carol would read the kids stories in the afternoon.

Jace stares up at you with his big brown eyes and reaches his little fist out. “Mom, mom, mom.”

“Mom, mom, mom.” You repeat, picking him up and sitting him on your knees. “Jace, Jace, Jace.”

He laughs again. Jace was slowly picking up words and was able to walk a very short distance without falling. Although, whenever Rick or Daryl was watching, he’d hold up his arms until one of them picked him up.

“He is without a doubt one of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen.”

Karen kneels down beside you and smiles wildly at him. The brunette had come from Woodbury; she was kind and always wanted to be involved in ongoing tasks, helping anyway she could.

Jace studied her for a moment before turning his attention back to his favorite stuffed toy, a red teddy bear Maggie had given him.

“Has he picked a name for his toy yet?”

“Baby.,” you chuckle. “Oh god, we better get back out there before it gets dark.”

She nods. There was still a load of walkers to clear, but you had set it up so everyone got a short break. Karen looks at you concernedly when you clear your throat a couple of times. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just the dry heat in here.”

After a few moments, you sigh, “Okay, Jacey, I gotta go back outside.”

“We’ll have lots of fun,” Beth says.

She had volunteered to watch the kids while their parents were on shift. You didn’t like the idea of leaving Jace in the care of someone you didn’t know, but you

—

Feeling a dip beside you in the bed, you reach your hand back to feel for Daryl and link your fingers with his. “You’re back late; how was the supply run? Is everyone okay?”

“Zach died. He got bitten by a walker.”

You pull your joined hands around to your front and kiss the back of his hand. Daryl always took it personally when someone died. Zack was just a teenage boy. Beth was dating him, and you knew Daryl would be beating himself up, thinking it was his fault she had lost someone else.

“I’m sorry.”

He says nothing; he just shuffles closer to you. Daryl had placed himself between you and the wall; the bunk beds weren’t large, so you didn’t have much room to stretch out. You and Daryl had never spoken about being together; it just happened.

“You’re so hot.”

“Thanks!” you chuckle, causing you to cough.

“No, seriously.” He places his hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine; I'm just tired and probably burned from being in the sun all day.”

[nadinebrooks]

Here is the link to my masterlist.

George Weasley: Ravenclaw Princess

Warnings: None

The Yule Ball approached and the halls of Hogwarts were buzzing with excitement. Decorations were being put up, students whispered and giggled about potential dates, and even the usually calm library was filled with an air of anticipation. 

Amidst all this, you sat in your usual seat in the library, surrounded by a mountain of books.

Known as the “Ravenclaw Princess,” you earned a reputation for her exceptional intellect and wit. Rumors swirled around that you were a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw herself, a claim that you neither confirmed nor denied. 

Despite your intelligence and logical demeanor, you often came across as isolated and detached. Your sharp mind and critical nature intimidated many, including Hermione Granger. She once admitted to the Weasley twins that she found you somewhat daunting. Fred and George, ever the pranksters, often joked that you and Hermione would make perfect friends, much to her dismay. 

As you delved deeper into her Potions textbook, you glanced up to see George Weasley creeping into the library. He looked around nervously before making his way to a secluded corner where Lee Jordan and his twin, Fred, were sitting. 

Curiosity piqued and you subtly listened as he began to practice what seemed like lines for asking someone to the Yule Ball. 

You sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. George’s approach was endearing but undeniably terrible. Gathering your books, you decided to offer assistance when Fred and Lee had left. Approaching him, you cleared her throat, causing him to jump slightly. 

“George, I couldn’t help but overhear you … practicing,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. “If you don’t mind, I could offer some pointers.” 

“Oh, (y/n), that would be great.” He looked up with a mix of surprise and relief. “I didn’t think that anyone would be able to hear me.” 

“Well, not only were you quite loud, but you decided to practice in the quietest room in Hogwarts.” You replied with a hint of amusement. “Let’s start with the basics.” 

Over the next few days, you and George spent a lot of time together. You drilled him with proper etiquette, the right words to use, and even the subtleties of body language. George, ever the quick learner when it came to practical jokes and Quidditch strategies, struggled at first but gradually improved under your guidance.   

One afternoon, the two of you found herself in an empty classroom, practicing dance steps. The gramophone that you enchanted sat in the corner playing a soft waltz, and you demonstrated the steps with ease. 

“Alright, your turn,” you said, holding out a hand. 

George took it, his larger hand enveloping yours. He started slowly, counting the steps under his breath. “One, two, three … one, two three …”

“Relax, George. Feel the music,” you advised, your voice soft and patient, 

George nodded, trying to focus. As you moved around the room, you couldn’t help but notice how his usual playful demeanor had softened. His eyes, filled with determination and something else you couldn’t quite place, met yours. 

“You’re doing great,” you said, breaking into his thoughts. 

George smiled, genuinely touched by your encouragement. “Thanks, (y/n). I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. George’s heart pounded in his chest, and he found himself leaning in closer. You, too, felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through you, your usual guarded expression softening. 

“George, there’s something I need to tell you,” you began, but before you could continue, the door burst open, and Fred Weasley stumbled in. 

“Hey George, you in her? Oh-” Fred stopped short, taking in the scene before him. A smirk spread across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?” 

“We were just practicing.” You composed yourself, clearing your throat and stepping away from George. He stepped back as well, his face turning red.

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you were. Anyway, George, we need to get to the common room. Angelina’s got some new ideas for the Yule Ball decorations.” 

George nodded, giving you a grateful look. “Thanks again, (y/n). I’ll see you later.” 

As Fred and George left, you stood alone in the classroom, your heart was still racing. You had never felt this way before, and it both excited and terrified you. As you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps the Yule Ball would be more interesting than you had anticipated. 

The next few days flew by in a blur of classes and Yule Ball preparations. George’s confidence grew with each passing day, thanks to your help. One evening, after another practice session, he walked you back to the Ravenclaw common room. 

“Thanks again for all your help, (y/n). I really appreciate it,” George said, his voice sincere. 

“It’s been enjoyable,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I grew up dancing. My mom forced me to learn, but I haven’t put anything to practice until now. I never realized how much fun dancing could be.”

George grinned. “Well, maybe we could have a dance at the Yule Ball? Just one, as a thank you.” 

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, George. Just one dance.” 

As you watched him walk away, you felt a strange flutter in your chest. You had spent so long isolating yourself, convinced that your intelligence and wit set you apart. But George had managed to break through your walls, showing you a world beyond books and logic.  

The night of the Yule Ball arrived, and the Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland. You entered, wearing a beautiful gown that shimmered like the night sky. As you scanned the room, your eyes met George’s. He looked dashing in his dress robes, and he made his way over to you with a smile. 

In the end, he ended up using everything that he had learned to ask you out to the Yule Ball. An offer that you would be crazy to deny. 

“You look stunning, he said, offering his hand. 

“Thank you George. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, taking his hand. 

As the music started, you found yourself on the dance floor, moving in perfect harmony. For the first time in a long while, you felt truly happy. George’s presence was comforting, his warmth seeping into your heart. 

“There’s something I need to tell you,”  George said softly, his breath warm against your ear. 

You looked up at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it, George?”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, (y/n). I know I joke around a lot, but I’m serious about this. About us,” he confessed, his eyes earnest. 

Your heart skipped a beat. “I … I feel the same way George. I didn’t realize it until we started spending way more time together, but I like you too.”

A wide grin spread across George’s face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. The world around you faded away, and for the moment, it was just the two of you, lost in your own little bubble of happiness. 

As the night went on, you danced and laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. The Ravenclaw Princess had found her prince, and for once, you didn’t mind being seen as something more than just an intelligent, critical mind. You were loved, and that made all the difference in the world. 

The Yule Ball continued to dazzle with laughter and music, filling the air. As the night deepened, you found yourself enjoying the festivities more than you ever imagined. George’s confession had opened a door you hadn’t realized was there, and stepping though it had changed everything. 

After your dance, you and George decided to take a break and get some fresh air. You wandered out to the courtyard, where the snow was gently falling, creating a serene, magical atmosphere. The cold air was refreshing after the warmth of the Great Hall, and you wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself. 

“Are you cold?” George asked, his concern evident in his eyes. 

“A little,” you admitted, smiling up at him. 

Without hesitation, George draped his own cloak around your shoulders. “Better?” 

“Much better. Thank you, George,” you replied, feeling warmth spread through you - not just from the cloak but from his thoughtful gesture. 

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet. Finally, George spoke, his voice breaking the quiet.

“I can’t believe you helped me so much. I mean, I’ve always thought you were amazing, but getting to know you like this has been incredible,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’ve enjoyed it too, George. More than I thought I would,” you replied honestly. “I’ve never really taken the time to get to know anyone outside of my house. I suppose I was a bit … arrogant.” 

“Well, you do have a reputation to uphold, Ravenclaw Princess,” he teased gently, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I suppose so. But maybe it’s time to let go of that title, at least a little.” 

George’s smile softened. “I like seeing this side of you. The real you. Not just the intelligent, witty, and sometimes intimidating version.” 

You blushed, feeling a rush of warmth despite the cold. “Thank you, George. For seeing me.” 

As you continued your walk, you found a secluded bench and sat down, the snow falling around you like a silent, beautiful curtain. George reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I was thinking,” he began, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “maybe we could do something together after the holiday. Just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date,” he confirmed, squeezing your hand gently. 

Over the holidays, you and George exchanged letters, each one filled with excitement and longing. When the new term began, you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Your friends in Ravenclaw noticed a change in you - a lightness, a happiness that hadn’t been there before. 

On a crisp January evening, you found yourself in the Gryffindor common room, a place you had never ventured before. George had invited you to join him and his friends for a casual get-together, and despite your initial nerves, you found yourself enjoying the company. 

Fred, always the joker, couldn’t resist teasing his brother. “So, (y/n), how did George manage to convince the Ravenclaw Princess to spend time with us mere mortals?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe I was tired of being isolated in my ivory tower.

“Or maybe she just couldn’t resist my charm.” George grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.  

Laughter filled the room, and you felt a sense of belonging that you haven't experienced in a long time. George’s friends welcomed you with open arms, and for the first time, you felt like you truly fit in. 

As the evening wore on, you and George found a quiet corner to talk. The fire cracked softly, casting a warm glow over the room. 

“I’ve been thinking about our date,” George said, his voice low and intimate. “How about Hogsmead this weekend?” 

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, your heart fluttering with anticipation. 

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough. When Saturday arrived, you and George met at the entrance of the castle, both of you bundled up against the cold. The village of Hogsmead was bustling with activity, and you spent the day exploring the shops, sipping butterbear, and enjoying each other’s company. 

As the day drew to a close, you found yourselves in a secluded spot near the Shrieking Shack. The sky was painted in hues of pink and orange, and the air was crisp and clear. 

George took your hand, his eyes serious. “I’ve wanted to ask you something for a while now, (y/n).” 

Your heart pounded in your chest. Something that happened often did whenever George was around. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend.” 

“Of course.” (y/n) nodded, her heart swelling with happiness.

He pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. 

As you walked back to the castle, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. You had found love in the most unexpected place, with the most wonderful person.

[yallthemwitches]

Part 2 (with lovesick James POV!) Merry Christmas you filthy animals

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

(please keep in mind throughout this fic Remus is like this v (because he is otherwise not present))

The only thing more mortifying about kissing the girl you fancy and not being able to reciprocate properly is having to stand in front of a bloody crowd after said kiss and not look like you are about to fucking implode. 

It had taken everything to pull him away from her—and he meant everything. His heartbeat had clanged in his ears, the smell of her cinnamon shampoo encircling him like some predatory snare--nevermind the fact that she had kissed him just meters from his bed where he had spent the past four years thinking too explicit thoughts about her to ever put on paper. 

Then, after all that, he was expected to stand next to his bloody parents ?

James watches as his dad finishes a rousing speech about ‘goodwill to all men’ and other Christmas adages before pulling his mum in for a sweeping kiss. Typical. But the crowd cheers in applause and James joins them because–of all nights–this is the one he promises to be good. It’s Christmas for Merlin’s sake, he owes it to them. 

But he can’t hold back the twitch in his jaw and knows that, if left unattended, he will grind his teeth into little stubs from the anxiety of it all. His parents, their friends, the wandering classmates might as well be speaking in monotonous droning noises—all he can hear is the delicious mantra of Lily Evans kissed me. Lily Evans kissed me. LILY EVANS kissed me.

“Uh. Prongs.” 

His nickname breaks through the void. Turning slowly, he finds Peter standing next to him, offering some sort of ruby red liquid with a defenseless, apologetic look. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

James blinks at him, unable to comprehend. The chant is entering and exiting all orifices and licking his lips, he swears he can still taste her on him. Somewhere from behind, one of his mum’s coworkers grabs his bum and he doesn’t even care. 

“Didn’t know what?”

“Uh–I mean,” Peter searches for words, knowing a trap when he sees one. “You and Evans just seemed to be pretty friendly, you know.”

Friendly. Suddenly, something cuts the mantra from his brain like taking scissors to a ticker tape. Friendly—a friend.

Lily Evans was–is his friend. He knows so because she has said it many times. How much painstaking work had been done to get to the point of even being just amicable with her? Years worth, at least a solid 365 days if not more. That’s not to say he wasn’t chuffed by the advancement: pathetic git as he was, nights at Hogwarts had delved into anticipation of just sitting next to her, smelling her beautiful hair during their library sessions and maybe (if he was lucky) getting an arm brush against his as she leans over to write some bloody adorable comment in the margins of his parchment, only to be obsessed with her curly, cramped script for the next hour…

It hadn’t not crossed his mind that maybe things were starting to turn flirty. When he was lucky enough to get her to throw her head back in a laugh, she had started to grab onto his forearm for support. Then of course there were the letters. Merlin, how many had he written? Perhaps more than he had ever written to Peter or Moony in his life– and this was just one holiday. Hours of doting on each word, striking the right balance between friendly, maybe a tad flirty, but not overbearing, and if his glasses were working correctly, hers came back just as amicable, perhaps even enthusiastic. 

But would some stray arm touches and jovial letters really equate to a kiss? 

“Do you think we should throw punch in his face? I think we should throw punch in his face.”

James blinks again to find Sirius standing in front of him, hands on his hips while Peter sports a nervous look. 

“You ok, mate? You kind of just…were out of it for a second,” Peter squeaks, eyes roaming and nervous.

“Yeah, fine. Brilliant,” James responds automatically, not sure if he really means it or not. 

“Well,” Sirius butts in, “Now that your mum’s lot have got tired of your sorry arse, can we actually have some fun around here. Flea says I can be in charge of the music as long as I keep the bumping and grinding to a minimum.”

“Right, yeah. Sure.”

James’ mind drifts again, all his thoughts slippery like black ice. Warm lips, so soft, tasting like gin and cinnamon…

“Oi,” Sirius snaps his fingers right between his eyes. “If you took some muggle drugs without me, I swear Prongs I’m going to be so upset.”

“Lily was in his room earlier,” Peter blurts out, then clasps his hands over his mouth as though to stop any other incriminating thing from exiting. 

“Groovy, Wormtail. Really subtle,” James mutters, and shifts his eyes just in time to watch Sirius’ ears practically perk upwards in interest. 

“Oh.” Sirius says in a curt, knowing tone. “Oh, I see.”

“Nothing happened. She got lost on her way to the loo.” 

Sirius smirks. “Yeah, bet it is really hard to find the loo when you are too busy using your mouth to–”

“Sirius, fuck off and drop it—Really, nothing happened.” 

He hears the pain in his voice and for some reason it surprises him. They had kissed hadn’t they? But now even that fact was starting to get murky—like all of the pieces leading up to it didn’t make for a greater whole. Maybe it was a mistake, she had just leaned too far in and his lips were just there to catch her. Or maybe she was just drunk?

He could spiral around the thousands of reasons why she could have possibly not meant to kiss him, but the one thing that he knows for certain is that Lily is his friend. Full stop. And friends don’t try to snog friends, do they?

It didn’t feel fair for a teenage boy to have to wade through such emotional traps–especially on Christmas. 

Sirius does drop it, though not before arching an eyebrow with a sly look and the boys wander away from the older crowd towards the throngs of Hogwarts students who all have slowly commandeered the front of the bar area. He can’t help himself but to look past anyone who isn’t Lily—wondering if she took his words literally and was still leaning against the edge of his desk where he left her. 

“Hey stranger.” 

A small hand grasps his forearm. Sofia beams up at him, silvery blonde hair charmed into perfect ringlets around her face like a china doll. 

“Alright Sofia?”

She gives a small smile. Telling by her eyes she’s had a few drinks and is feeling good, the liquid confidence equating to her ever grasping hand on him. 

“Just wondering if you were going to hide all night.” 

“Wasn’t hiding. Just doing my duty as a good son and host for one day out of the year.”

He shoots her a grin, one that he uses to get out of trouble and he feels her hand tighten against his bicep, fingertips pressing in like trying to commit the feel to memory. 

“Well, would you have time out of your busy schedule to be a good host to me?”

There isn’t much subtlety there. From behind her, Sirius makes a shrugging expression at him, tilting his head in a way that means your mess . 

From the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of red hair reenter the room. Lily steps out of the hall, looking a bit bleary-eyed and nervous. Bee lining her way through the crowd, she completely ignores his gaze, calling for a double gin and tonic and joining Mary and Marlene a few clusters away from him.

Merlin, she looks lovely. 

“James?” 

James snaps his head back to see Sofia still standing there, a crease in her brow from his lack of response. 

“Er–sorry. Uhm, lemme just do some rounds then I’ll come find you.”

The fact that he said almost the same thing to Lily puts a heavy weight in his stomach, but Sofia's smile brightens and she gives an enthusiastic nod, finally relinquishing her grip. 

Not knowing what direction to take, James stocks off back towards his room, the party starting to feel like a real drag. 

* * * * 

During the beginning of holiday, Lily had sent him a letter that he must have read a thousand times.

Dear James,

I hope your holiday is going well too—though I can’t say we have had much time to do anything seeing as it’s only the second day. 

To respond to your last inquiry—no, I will not write your Potions essay for you, though if you send it along maybe I can write some choice words in the comments to add flavour ( choice words meaning horrible insults that will no doubt earn you a T…)

I was watching a bit of telly yesterday (box, glowing screen, moving pictures—you have heard of one right?) and I saw a program where this bloke made the exact same stupid voice you make when trying to imitate Professor Binns. I was so caught off guard thinking that you had entered the room, I practically fell off the sofa, then proceeded to laugh at how incredibly thick I was to think that you would just apparate into my home to do something as stupid as that. 

Anyways, I don’t know why I am telling you this (perhaps a symptom of my absolute boredom). Maybe it’s to say that if you feel like showing up at my house to work on your impressions before next term, I wouldn’t be mad about it. 

Hope you’re well. And sorry Sirius ate all the Christmas cookies.

Lily

It was dumb really. She had even said in the letter that she had written it completely out of boredom, but rereading it even now, his breath catches in his stomach by the implication that she would want to see him, that she had even been thinking about him in the first place. At the time, he probably wasted a hundred rolls of parchment trying to come up with the perfect response that would encapsulate his absolute earnestness to actually visit while not coming on too strong. In the end, he responded by changing the subject almost entirely, too afraid he was getting the wrong impression of her friendliness. 

He sits on his bed clutching the letter. Downstairs, the music changes to a rock beat of Sirius’ doing and a whoop from the younger guests signals that dancing is probably picking up. He rereads the letter again, focusing on the way she curls the J in his name. When had she started calling him James? Did he really let such a monumental switch happen unnoticed?

“Uhm. Sorry.”

His eyes snap away from the parchment. Like some beautiful ghost, Lily wanders into the doorway, hands tugging at the sides of her dress. 

“Mary’s curfew is coming up and I offered to go back with her.”

“Oh, yeah. Ok.” The feeling of sinking weighs heavy in his heart.

“And Sofia is looking for you.”

“I told her I would come find her later.”

Lily’s face twists into something resembling pain, her eyes becoming glassy. 

“Yeah, well. She seems to think it’s later.”

Lily crosses the room and takes a hesitant seat next to him on the bed, letting the end of her dress fan out against her thighs. Well that’s all you're going to think about for the rest of your sodding life. 

“Is that…my letter?”

Too busy letting his teenage mind work in overdrive, he hadn’t put down the parchment. She leans in, resting her chin lightly on his shoulder to read the text.

“Oh god. I’m completely mental. I can’t believe you even kept this. I sound like an absolute nutter.”

He turns to her, frowning. 

“No you don’t. I think it's brilliant. I love that—”

Oh for fucks’ sake. Why did I use that word? 

Lily recovers for him, pulling the parchment out of his loose grasp and giving it a closer inspection. 

“You really should have heard it though—it sounded just like you. Like—” 

She makes this low droning voice that doesn’t even remotely sound like Professor Binns or his terrible impression of him. James can’t help but laugh, a loud booming one that she’s been able to pull out of him more and more. Small droplets of tears start forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Godric Evans, please don’t go into acting— Here, let me do what you just did.”

He replicates the same gravelly voice, giving it an extra dash of absurdism. It's her turn to laugh, head falling back and lips gleaming as her peals cut through the room. Before, he only speculated that it was his favorite noise, now he is sure of it. 

“I didn’t sound like that,” she squeals, giving his arm a tug. “Do the real impression again so I can compare.”

“Nope, sorry. I’ve forgotten how to do it actually. Your rendition has obliviated it.”

“Fuck off with that—c’mon do it.” 

She gives him another playful tug and this time he lets his hand go loose under her grip so their hands remain attached, falling limp into her lap. 

“Sorry, Evans, maybe next year,” he says quietly. He can tell she is feeling the same vibration from their tangled hands that he is, both of their eyes zeroed in on the clasped fingers.

Did friends hold hands when they laughed? Suddenly it was incredibly hard to remember.

“Look James,” she says, eyes averted out towards the room. “I’m sorry—about earlier. I’m not trying to blow this whole thing up, I know we are mates now and–”

What. In under a millisecond, the past three hours of his life had been reduced to pure idiocy. He hadn’t imagined it. They had kissed and it had been intentional. 

“Please. Wait–just stop.” 

She recoils and he can feel her hand start to tug away from his but he adds more pressure, resituating his fingers so they thread with hers. 

“Lily— ” he stammers. Her eyes lower to speculative slits. It’s now or never Potter. Grab the snitch or get off the pitch. 

“You didn’t ask what I want for Christmas.”

Her eyes crinkle, mouth turning downwards. 

“What?” she sputters, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

“You know,” he pries, “From before—I asked you what you wanted but you didn’t ask me. So go on, ask.”

Lily looks at him. Ever since their kiss he had felt like a storm cloud raining on the Christmas cheer, but sitting here with her has returned him to form, eyes glinting wild and expectant.

“Ok, fine,” she huffs. “ What do you want for Christmas, Potte–”

He crashes his lips down on hers before she can even finish the question, not holding anything back. Unlike earlier where he had been too shocked and guarded to reciprocate, he goes in full force this time, lips frantic and hungry. Everything starts to feel charged, the softness of her lips and the sweet smell of cinnamon revitalizing him and urging him forward. 

When they pull away, their lips are swollen and breath shallow, their fingers unraveled and on his cheek, the small of her back. His hand contracts against the warm skin, keeping her in place as if with the slightest movement she will vanish into the night. 

“I had wanted you to kiss me then, and I want you to kiss me again now.”

A smile breaks onto her face so wide it tugs perilously close to either ear. 

“We’re idiots. Absolute sodding—”

But his lips are back on hers, mouth already open and breathing deep into her. She coils her fingers through his hair, letting the hard lines of their bodies press flush together as he crowds in further, pulling her so close that he doesn’t think he will feel anything as cozy as her body heat against him ever again. 

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants into her, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

She laughs again, but this time he catches it with his mouth, letting the sound develop into a satisfied moan. She tangles back into him and somehow he needs her closer, needs her more . He doesn’t know how he has even survived off of so little for so long. 

“What about Mary,” she gasps, pulling back just enough to speak. “She’s got curfew…I told her…” But even as she says it, her arms pull his neck tighter, her soft lips dragging their way across his jaw to his ear. 

He silences her with a kiss to the neck and a bubbling sigh escapes her, now for certain the most beautiful sound to ever exist. 

“Tell her to live a little—it's too cold to leave now,” he murmurs, not wishing to waste any more time. 

“We’re busy with a bloody Christmas miracle.”

[foreverrandomwritings]

(first one) jealous prompt & (second one) smutty prompt with loki 💚😏 romantic

“i don’t like how they keep staring at me.”

“Come sit on my lap.”

Loki and The Librarian

Summary: Odin throws a ball in honor of you and Loki. You both take a much needed break from the festivities.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x afab!Reader

Warnings: Uhm it's fluffy at the beginning and then complete filth at the end. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY!

Word count:4040

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

Loki and yourself had been in a relationship for many years now. Having met in the library of the castle. You were a newer librarian there as your predecessor had decided to retire. You were one of the few that saw him as someone other than one of the Princes of asgard. He would never tell anyone else but it was something he greatly cherished. You treated him so nicely not because you could gain something from being with him but because you treasured the person he truly was. 

You had been at the desk in the front of the library when Loki entered. He had looked at you curiously not knowing who you were. You hadn’t noticed him yet, being too immersed in the book you were reading. He walked up to the desk and cleared his throat causing you to let out a loud scream and throw your book clear up into the sky. He caught it with a smirk on his lips. His eyes scanned the cover surprised to find it was one of his favorites. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His words were gentle as you closed your eyes, hand clutching your chest as you tried to even your breathing. 

“It’s alright, I should’ve been paying more attention.” your eyes fluttered open and your lips separated as you noticed who was standing in front of you. 

“Where is Estrid?” He was used to seeing the older woman here. He had grown fond of her over the years, she would let him wander the shelves and didn’t mind him staying in the library way past her leaving. He had even gotten in a habit of bringing her tea. Which he had in his hand that wasn’t holding your book. 

“Oh she retired a couple of days ago. I am her replacement, is there anything I can help you find?” You were still sitting in your seat with a gentle smile on your lips. 

“Do you like tea?” you nodded your head eagerly, he gave you a gentle smile back before setting the delicate tea cup down in front of you. 

“I brought it for Estrid, but since she isn’t here you can have it instead.” He set your book down next to the tea as well.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. If you need anything feel free to shout for me.” Estrid had told you a little about Loki. She had told you that he was a gentle soul and that he used the Library to escape. She also told you that he didn’t like being called by any title while he was within the book filled space. You had made sure to take note of what she had said. You were glad that you did because he seemed to appreciate the casualness of the meeting. That day was only the start of a beautiful relationship. He would come into the library daily and bring you tea. Occasionally he would sit and talk with you. The talking turned into flirting and then you were barrelling head first into love. 

Your relationship had however been kept a secret from the prying eyes of Asgard for a long time. Neither of you felt like being questioned and ridiculed by others. It also made the time spent together even more special. But when his father started talking about bringing in suitors from other realms for his youngest son his mother put a stop to it. She had been surprised he hadn’t been able to tell that Loki had already been in love and for quite some time now. Loki wished he could say he was surprised that his mother knew but he really wasn’t. She had always known things about people that they sometimes didn’t even know about themselves. 

“Loki, I have decided to start sending out proposals to other realms for suitors. Thor likes to play too much, but you have potential to settle down.” Loki sputtered on his water at his fathers words. Frigga looked at her husband bewildered.

“Odin, Loki already has a woman he loves dear.” Loki had looked at his mother with wide eyes. He was thankful that his brother wasn’t here because he would have enjoyed the awkwardness of this conversation way too much.

“What is this you speak of Frigga?” Odin looked utterly confused at his wife's words. 

“He has been with the new Librarian for years now.” She gave Loki a gentle smile, he relaxed at the action. Upon the revelation his father requested that they hold a ball in honor of your relationship. Loki had persisted that that wasn’t necessary and that it would actually be something that you would be against but his father persisted. 

You had in fact been reluctant for the occasion and had asked Loki if there was any way to get out of it and he had told you that unfortunately there wasn’t. His father truly loved any excuse to throw a party so there would be no changing his mind. 

“Good afternoon love.” You had greeted Loki as he entered the library. You glanced at his hands and noticed two cups of tea meaning he planned to join you for a while. You pulled a chair up for him, setting down your book on the desk in front of you. 

“I have news for you pet.” He gave you a grimace as he spoke nerves eating away at him. 

“What is it?” You asked him, chewing on your bottom lip. He sat in the chair next to you handing you your cup of tea. 

“Father would like to hold a ball in your honor in a fortnight.” Your mouth fell open as you gaped at him.

“What in the world are you talking about?” You asked him, setting the tea down beside your book, hands running through your hair. 

“He was talking about bringing in suitors from other realms for me to wed. But my mother informed him that I had already found someone. Upon hearing the news he decided he wanted to throw a party.” His hand held one of your own as his eyes looked upon your face. 

“Is there any way we can convince him otherwise?” You did not want to attend such a big event. Let alone one that was in your honor. 

“I’m afraid not, pet. He has his mind set on a ball.” He knew of your dislike for the public eye. He truly felt bad for dragging you into this mess. But you knew that eventually loving him would mean such things. 

You had asked Loki that night while you were laid in his bed if you could meet his parents more informally so it would be less awkward the day of the ball. His mother was already completely smitten with you, having seen and talked with you in the library on multiple occasions. Frigga had jumped at the opportunity to have a meal with you and had dragged his father along to the breakfast. She had asked you if she could help you find a dress and get you ready for the ball and you had hesitantly said yes. 

That’s how you found yourself being swept across the dance floor in your lover's arms. You had both had a couple of classes of wine and had eaten healthily from the feast that was served. His father had announced your relationship and then nicely ordered you to dance. The dance was simple and one you and Loki had practiced many times in his large room after a night spent together. 

As the song came to an end he grabbed your hand and led you off the dance floor back to your seats as the crowd watching cheered loudly. You walked slowly to the head table. Frigga, Odin, Thor, Loki and Yourself all had seats at the large oak table. He pulled your chair out for you and made sure you were seated before he took his place next to you. At this point the dance floor was swarming with guests and Loki leaned over towards you.

“How are you doing, pet?” he whispered to you, noticing the way you were biting your lip nervously. 

“I don’t like the way they keep staring at me.” You told him looking into his eyes that were swimming with understanding. He knew how hesitant you were to step into the public eye. You had never desired to be someone that everyone would talk about. Now that everyone knew who you were to him it was likely that you would be gossiped about. 

“We can take a break whenever you feel like it.” He clasped your hand giving it a gentle squeeze as his eyes darted towards the exit. Most of the women had been looking at you with jealousy and disgust. Majority of the men had been undressing you with their eyes with every look they sent your way. 

“Won’t your father be upset if we leave our own party?” you asked him half jokingly. You were desperately wanting a break from the stuffy space but didn’t want to be rude. 

“I don’t think he’ll miss us much if we aren’t gone for long.” He reassured you, you seemed to be contemplating the idea of a break when Thor came over to you both. 

“May I have a dance?” he asked you, holding a hand your way. You locked eyes with Loki and he gave you a nod telling you it was alright. You pulled your hand out of his and grasped his brothers and were off to the dance floor.

Loki watched you dancing and laughing and felt warmth spread through him at the thought of being able to show you off. He loved having you to himself for so long but seeing how happy you were with his brother made him feel content. Like his two worlds could in fact collide magically. He watched as the song came to a close and you made your way back over to him, leaving Thor on the dance floor. 

“Come sit on my lap.” He said as you made your way to sit in your chair. You gave him a bewildered look, eyes darting around the room. 

“Loki.” you told him as a warning when he grabbed your wrist gently. The close contact would give you both some relief from your anxiety but it would certainly gain you more attention. 

“Please?” he gave you a pout, his eyes dancing with glee. You knew from all the nights you had spent together after a large occasion such as this that he hated being at these. All the people always stressed him out and he’d much rather be curled up in bed with you. You not so reluctantly sat down in his lap, thankful that your dress wasn’t one of the ballgown ones his mother had originally wanted you in. You had actually found one that was more form fitting in Loki's signature green and gold. 

He let out a large sigh of relief as you settled yourself upon his lap. You put one of your hands on the back of his neck under his hair, smoothing a thumb across the expanse of it. He drew a thumb across your back in circular motions as his other hand went to grab his goblet. He took a generous gulp of the wine within the cup before pressing it to your lips and allowing you to swallow some of it down as well. 

You adjusted yourself along his lap slightly crossing your ankles to seat yourself better. He hissed at the motion and the hand on your back came to squeeze your waist in a warning. You tilted your head as you questioned him with your eyes. His eyes were filled with a look that you were more than familiar with, lust. The thought of the people around you seemed to slip your mind as you ground your hips a couple of times. 

His other hand rested upon your knee that was exposed due to the slit in the skirt of the dress. His fingers were cold as they came into contact with your skin. The feeling caused a shiver to run through your body. He gave you a teasing smile, knowing how much you loved when he chilled his body. The feeling of the cold he could summon always had you writhing and whimpering for him. 

The both of you knew having you sat upon his lap was a dangerous game. It had proven to be so on many occasions. You would normally sit upon his lap while one of you read to the other in his chambers. The book would normally get lost somewhere within the room as you tangled yourself within one another on any surface you could find in his room. 

This time seemed to be no different. The closeness of the other had always been intoxicating and you could hardly think straight as he filled your senses. You could smell his scent of eucalyptus and sandalwood. You could feel his fingers upon your skin on your knee and his skin along your fingers where they sat on his neck. You heard his shaky breath as he took in the scent of you. He could tell you were aroused by the way you squeezed your legs together. 

“I am ready for a break pet.” He told you as he moved you off his lap. You took his hand in yours as an agreement and started to lead him out of the room. The thought of having him buried deep inside you had your footsteps quickening as you weaved through the familiar halls into the one that held his room. You had been there many times in your relationship so you knew exactly where to head to. 

Swinging his door open he had you against it  instantly. His hands came to cup your face as he kissed you roughly. Teeth clashing against teeth, tongues fighting each other for dominance. He let you win as he nudged a leg between your own. The slit in your dress making it easy for him to do so. You moaned against his mouth as his thigh met your clothed cunt. A wet patch had formed in your underwear and it started to seep onto the pants of his suit. 

“So wet for me already.” He said as he pulled away his hands falling towards your hips. Your hands made their way to his jacket and peeled it off of him, dropping it to the floor. He moved his leg again and it swept across your cunt once again. You threw your head against the door at the feeling. 

“Need more.” You told him breathlessly, he hummed in reply pulling away. His hand worked your zipper down your side and he pulled the straps down your arms. The dress hadn’t required a bra so you were left in just your underwear as the green material pooled around your feet. Then he was telling you to jump, slipping your feet out of your heels, you did as he ordered and wrapped your legs around him. He walked the both of you to the bed as your lips clashed once again. 

Your nipples hardened as they rubbed against the fabric of his shirt. He laid you down on the bed, the silk sheets surrounding you comfortably. You ground your hips along his in desperate need of friction. He tsked at you as he pulled his lips away from your own. Your eyes darted down to his mouth as he licked his kiss swollen lips. 

“Be patient pet and I will take care of you.” His voice was deep and sultry as he wiggled out of your legs. You groaned at the loss of contact with him. His fingers came down to your underwear and ripped them away from your body. 

“I didn’t have dessert yet. Do you think I can have some now?” he asked you while his fingers slipped through your folds. You whined out loudly, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles throbbing at your grip. He kneeled at the end of the bed, hands gripping your ankles. 

“Please, Loki.” your voice was already wrecked as you begged him. That was all he needed before he was pulling you to the end of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders and burying his head between your thighs. He licked and sucked and feasted upon your cunt. If you hadn't sat beside him at dinner you would have thought he hadn’t eaten in days with the way he ravished you. Your back arched as he slipped two fingers inside of you. He worked them in a come hither motion hitting that special spot inside of you over and over again. 

You were seeing white as he sucked your clit between his cold lips. Your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. He continued to work you through your high. His hand that wasn’t buried within you held your hips down as they jerked sporadically. You whined his name like a prayer. Praising him for how well he had devoured you. 

He sucked his fingers into his mouth once he was sure he had licked you completely clean. You sat there naked on his bed, blinking as your vision came back to you. You looked upon his ceiling at the intricate designs and the mirror that he had installed. You saw the way his back muscles flexed against his shirt. 

“You have too many clothes on.” You spoke into the air, he chuckled at your words. You watched in the mirror as he snapped his fingers and his clothes disappeared. He worked his naked body up your own before he was completely encompassing you. One of his hands held him up as the other laid on your throat. He dragged cold fingers along your neck down to your breasts leaving goosebumps in their wake. He circled them around your nipples causing you to whimper as they hardened almost painfully. He shushed you with a kiss upon your lips. 

Your hand came between your bodies and sought out his cock. Once you found it you circled your thumb across the tip. He groaned into your lips as he jerked into your hand. You guided him between your lips and slid his tip up and down gathering the slick that had pooled there again. He bit your lip as you slipped the head into your entrance, grinding your hips to try and coax him to fully slip inside of you. He did just that, slowly sinking in until his balls were slapping against your ass. 

He sat there for a moment letting you adjust to his size. While he himself adjusted to the feeling of you wrapped around him so deliciously. He found one of your hands and slipped his fingers between your own, laying it beside your head. He slipped his tongue along yours before he started moving in and out of you. His thrusts were slow and precise. Delicately unraveling you once again, much different than the relentless pace he had set when he was eating you out moments ago. 

He moved the hand that had been playing with your nipples between your bodies. His thumb coming to rub against your clit. You gasped as your fingers tore down his back. He finally pulled away from your kiss, peppering his lips along your neck. One of your hands squeezed his bicep as you whined incoherently. He sucked at the spot below your ear and you could feel a second climax building up inside of you. 

He could feel it as well as he continued to thrust in and out of you, your walls squeezing against his cock. His tumb languidly circled your clit and you moaned as he bit down into the skin of your neck. His cold tongue worked the sore spot over. He moved his mouth down slightly before he bit down again. You screamed as you came this time, your fingers digging into the flesh of his arm harshly.

“Good job pet.” He whispered into your ear as his thrusts worked you through your climax. You preened at the praise he gave you. The both of you craved the words of encouragement in the bedroom and outside of it. 

“I want to swallow you my love.” You begged him as his hips began to stutter within you. 

“You want to swallow my cum like a good little pet?” He asked you as he paused his thrusts. You nodded at him pathetically and he laughed lightly, it always surprised him how much of a mess you became for him. 

“If that’s what you want then that is what you shall get.” He pulled out of you and sat against the headboard. You eagerly got on all fours and made your way between his legs. You grasped his length in your hand and started to twist your hand around it as you pumped up and down. Licking your lips you looked at him momentarily before you dipped your head down. You sucked his tip into your mouth twirling your tongue around it, the taste of his precum and your orgasm overwhelming your tastebuds. 

He buried one of his hands into your hair as the other came to sweep his own out of his face. He let out a muffled moan as your mouth slipped down around his cock. Your hand pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. His tip hit the back of your throat causing you to gag. He had already been close to orgasm when he was buried inside your pussy so it didn’t take him long to feel his climax building up rapidly once again. 

You continued to move your hand and mouth simultaneously. His hand in your hair gripped it harshly as you deep throated him and took his balls in your free hand. He jerked his hips up into your mouth letting out a low curse of your name as you gently fondled his balls. Tears were forming in your eyes as you repeatedly buried his cock into your throat. 

He held your head still as he threw his head back, lips slipping open a moan getting caught in his throat as his cum shot down your throat. You desperately swallowed down every last drop. Moaning as the taste of it coated your tongue. You licked and sucked him clean before releasing him with a loud pop. He pulled your face to his and slammed his lips against yours. A moan leaving his lips at the taste of himself on you. 

“We need to get back to the party, Love.” you told him as you pulled away from him reluctantly. He groaned before he buried his head in your neck leaving a chaste kiss where your neck and shoulder met. 

“Can’t we just stay in here for a little while longer?” He asked you, your finger swept down his arm before gripping his hand. You brought it up to your lips giving the back of it a kiss. 

“We’ve been gone long enough my love. We can come back here after it is done. Your father and mother must be noticing our absence and I wouldn’t want to upset them.” You had always been a voice of reason for him. 

“Fine then.” he replied curtly, he snapped his fingers and you were both standing at the end of the bed dressed and hair fixed. His magic always surprised you and you gasped as you tried to steady yourself. He grabbed your arm rolling his eyes playfully, but he actually loved the way you got giddy no matter how many times you had seen him use his magic. 

With a twinkle in his eyes he snapped his fingers again and you stood outside the doors to the grand ballroom. The both of you slipped back into the room hand in hand, smiling like lovesick fools. You could feel the eyes of the Asgardians drilling into you but you did not care. As long as you could have Loki near your side you would endure the constant looks and gossip from the people surrounding you.

A/N: I love Loki so much and I want him to call me pet more than I want anything in the world.

Tags(open): @sylviebell @wkndwlff

[i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms]

Ok so first off I'm just going to say that i know next to nothing about the fancasted Slytherin boys but i have been unable to get Mattheo Riddle out of my head for the last few day so here we are now

Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader Warnings: Use of Y/n, cussing, possible bad writing.( lmk if there's any others i should add)

The summer before your sixth year at Hogwarts was spent bettering yourself in all the ways you thought were flawed. You were tired of being the odd one out in your circle of friends. You wanted the love that they had. None of them understood when you told them you wanted the fights they got into, they'd tell you you're romanticizing it too much and that it wasnt all love and roses, but you understood that, you wanted the dark parts as well as the light parts - you wanted to learn how to fix a fight. You wanted everything, but no one else seemed to want it - actually, thats not true they wanted stuff like that just not with you. With you they wanted to use your body then get rid of you by morning. You didnt like it it but you'd decided long ago that maybe its all you deserve, all you'll ever receive from anyone. Until HE was partnered with you on a project in potions class. All was well in your little fake world until HE started flirting with you anytime you'd work on the project together.

Everything was fine until one day he got a dare from Draco. "hey mate, noticed you've been hanging around with that one hufflepuff" Draco smirks at his friend whilst sitting down at a table the others had set up for studying in the library. "care to tell rest of the class if she's really as good as everyone makes her sound?" As Draco spoke Mattheo could feel his jaw tense. "And what the hell are you on about now Malfoy?" "Oh you know just the fact that your crushing on a whore." Draco leans back folding his arms across his chest before Mattheo kicks the chair out from underneath him. "And how many girls have you used for the same thing Draco? You have no right to speak about someone when your the exact same." Mattheo raised his voice looking down his nose at the blond boy. "Oh don't believe me? Give her a month, hell she'll probably be trying to jump you after a week of being just plain nice." Draco moves to his feet while speaking. Mattheo continuing to look down upon Draco says a quiet and simple "fine." before pushing the bleach blond twat back to his seat and reclaiming his to go back to studying.

Over the week following that night Mattheo let his affections pour down on you, he'd gotten to know you and he let you see parts of his soul that no one else had been able to. After the month was up and you hadnt done anything about your feelings for him and Draco realized he was wrong he started spreading the knowledge of the dare to anyone he spoke to. Gossip wasn't much of a big thing at Hogwarts so when there was big news it tended to spread like wildfire, but often got skewed along grapevine.

You had been sitting in the library with Hermione studying for a test when you'd noticed she looked as if she'd had something she'd wanted to say. So when finally you'd grown restless of her bouncing knee you ask her the question you've been dying to know the answer too. "Merlins beard, Hermione what is it." She looked up at you with a look on her face as if she had no idea what you were talking about. "Hermione?" You said her name in a questioning tone and she looked as if she caved within her mind. "Well, Draco's been talking, about the many people you've been with - and i am in NO way shaming you for anything - but he's been saying that there was a bet, with Mattheo that involved you, and supposedly he bet Mattheo that you'd go along with anything if he had y'know with you, and that that's why you've been hanging around him so much." The red haired girl spoke cautiously as if expecting you to break down right in front of her. You opened your mouth to say something, the one person you didnt want to see walked in. You had completely forgotten about agreeing to tutor him. You looked at him, no longer with a look of happiness approaching your face but instead a look of animosity grew and without a word you stood and collected your books walking past Hermoine and Mattheo going to your dorm room to collect your thoughts.

Mattheo gave the Granger girl and questioning and concerned look to which she responded with a pointed one and told him to go find Draco before turning back to her studies. So he did, he went to the grand hall to see if he was eating lunch, he went to the quidditch field to see if the blond was gallivanting on his broom. And lastly - which honestly it should have been first - he checks the Slytherin common room and it's inevitably where he finds the blond lounging on a sofa. Mattheo bounds toward Malfoy and picks him up by the lapels of his uniform jacket and shoves him to the nearest wall. Matttheo on his search for Draco had heard the rumours that were going around and each one making him angrier and angrier. He wants to yell at the boy against the wall but he doesnt want prying ears hearing. "What have you done Malfoy?" His words dripping with acidity and the blonds name punctuated with a rough shove against the wall. "I know nothing of what you mean Riddle." Another rough shove to the wall and Mattheo asks the question again. "What. Have you. Done. Malfoy."

"Nothing, I was merely speaking with Nott in a not so private corridor about that bet we had. It is not my fault that people overheard." That sentence earned him another shove. "You'll take it back." Mattheo was trying desperately to know some sense into the otherwise senseless boy of what he'd just done without saying it outright but never the less Draco still figured it out. "You aren't in love with her are you Riddle?" Draco spoke seemingly disgusted at the fact. "You. Take. It. Back." Becoming more and more in pain, and the look on Mattheos face reminding him of a certain someone who can't be named, Draco finally surrendered, agreeing to take back what he'd said. Mattheo let go but kneeing him in the stomach before he left to make his point known. He then made his way to the Hufflepuff dorms to find you, and explain himself, and maybe grovel/beg for forgiveness.

When he gets to the to for the dorms he knocks, he has a friend in Hufflepuff that has been waiting for him. They let him in and tell him discreetly where your dorm is. He makes his way through the halls and up the stairs until he's standing in front of your door. Before he knocks he's wracking his brain trying to figure out what to say but all thoughts he had went running away when he heard your soft sobs through the door. No doubt because of him.

Instead of knocking he opens the door quietly (thank goodness it wasn't locked) and made his way inside, he closed the door behind. You looked up at the noise of the door closing and made brief eye contact with Mattheo before looking away again. "why are you here? I know about your bet so you can just forget about everything." Your words bitter as you snapped at him. "Love… there was no bet of the type that you have undoubtedly heard. Draco - called you something i don't intend on repeating to you, and I want- no- needed to prove him wrong. i am so desperately sorry for any pain he i have made you." Mattheo walks up your now standing form and kneels in front of you resting his hands on your hips. "I- I can't do this, I let you in. I- I broke MY rules for you - FOR you. Because I- I loved you." He shoots up to his feet and rests his palms on your cheeks. "Don't- don't use past tenses we can still have this, we can still do this it doesn't have to end just because of some pitiful joke i made in a fit of rage. Please, one more chance and if i fail you again i leave you alone forever, I- I promise." the look in his eyes told you he was sincere yet you still doubted it. The one person you'd let fully inside to see the darkest parts hurt you, but it was something small, and Draco has that effect on everybody. You pull his face to yours connecting your lips together, his hands move from your cheeks to the small of your back to pull you closer. When you pull away breathing uneven. "Is that a 'we can be together' type of kiss." He smiled wide when he finishes speaking. "oh shut up." You pull him in for another kiss.

[konigenblobbity]

Request: Emergency Contact

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Military!Reader (Callsign Viper)

Warnings: Angst, mention of severe injury, mention of car accident, slow burn

Request: [@lovestruckaphrodite] (this request is based on a Pierce the Vail song, but I suck at writing and i trust your words). y/n and ghost became roommates after meeting somewhere. They moved in together after something happened in y/ns life that made them either get kicked out of their house/had to leave their house so they become roommates. they weren't really close with one another regarding their jobs, but knew that both of them were in the military, just not in the same task force. then one day, Ghost gets a call in the middle of a meeting from an unknown number, but a familiar area code (the one y/n and he lived in) so he answers, and y/n was injured and had to get emergency surgery, and y/n put him as the emergency contact

A/n: this took a WHILE! But I hope you like it! Also I used the term dove - wanting it to be GN :). This work is also HIGHLY inspired to this work by @mockerycrow! If you like this please go show them some love!

Every Tuesday afternoon you spent in the same place doing the same thing. Sitting in your corner seat in your favorite cafe waiting for your drink. In fact many of the locals loved to visit this exact cafe, so you often saw the same people walk in and out of the doors. Not really caring, often reading a book or on your phone.

Its then that he walks in, you can tell by his heavy footsteps and his soft sigh as he takes his usual seat in the cafe - preferring the one closer to the window one table from you. You try not to be obvious with your gaze, watching through your lashes as he adjusts his sleeves and then places both his hands in his lap, fingers interlocked before pulling out his phone.

Ever since you started seeing him in this cafe a few months ago, you were infatuated with him. His blonde hair which he appeared to bleach himself, his signature black face mask paired with a skull patterned mask that covered up the bottom half of his face along with most of his neck, his tattoo sleeve that you only got a glimpse of on the hotter days he wore a t-shirt.

What was fascinating is how’d you see him at other places too… at your local grocery store, bank, park, even the bookstore. After a while you came to the conclusion that you had to live in the same area, or that he was simply a ghost haunting you and following you everywhere. With how much you saw him, you began to notice more about him…

Others didn’t dare look at him, let alone sit near him. His whole demeanor radiated authority and power. However rather than feeling threatened, you felt intrigued. Matter of fact… he reminded you of a lieutenant you heard rumors of around your task force. A ruthless and highly trained individual, who wore a similar skull balaclava paired with a skull mask. What a coincidence.

Finally your eyes land back on your book, not wanting him to spot you burning a hole into him with your gaze. Luckily that now gave him his opportunity to do the same, leaning back just enough to glance over the top of his phone and at you without making it obvious he was staring.

He recognized you, remembers seeing you last week at the grocery store and before that having seen you at the library. Wherever he was in the area, his eyes always managed to find you; turning a corner and hearing your familiar hum of a song, spotting your through the windows of restaurants with a friend, even walking through the doors of a store and seeing you already in line with a kind smile.

Maybe it was the familiarity that came with seeing you so often but he couldn’t help but open his mouth whenever you got close, trying to find the words to introduce himself. Yet he never could, just letting you walk off with your steps echoing the sound of his racing heart. Breaking from his thoughts as you flipped the page of your book, he took notice of something on your arm.

Right on your inner forearm, under where you had rolled up your sleeves, he saw a rather familiar symbol. The tip of two wings were showing along with the top a knife handle, he furrowed his brows and became curious. Beginning to devise a plan.

He stands up softly taps the edge of your table “Excuse me dove…” he says and you turn to look at him and giving a kind smile and letting out a soft hum of curiosity, urging him to continue. “Mind if I take some of your sugar?” He points over at the container on the end of your table “Don’t have any on my table” he clarifies further, wanting to appear smooth.

“oh! Yeah, here!” you reach forward and grab it, handing it to him “I don’t need it” you add, suddenly feeling so nervous your mouth feels the need to move and speak. It’s then that he gets a better look at the tattoo, and he smirked under his mask. It was exactly what he thought it was. Sitting on your forearm was a set of wings erupting from a SAS dagger, a banner below it reading ‘Who dares win’ in black ink.

“Would you look at that…” he mumbles softly, but clear enough for you to hear. You just look at him confused, both at his words and the fact that he hadn’t taken the sugar yet. “You a soldier?” He asks and that’s when you notice his gaze wasn’t on the sugar, but on your forearm.

Your eyes shifts down to your tattoo before lifting it back up to look into his eyes. With a soft smile you respond “Sergeant actually…” a bit of pride in your voice. Then using this opportunity to get to know this mysterious gentleman “I’m guessing you serve?” You inquire with a tilt of your head.

He gives you a curt nod, “Spot on” finally reaching forward and taking the sugar container. He holds onto it for the moment and then lifts his right hand, grabbing his jacket and opening it to show you the inner lining where a patch is sown in. It had that same symbol; the SAS dagger and wings. You chuckle softly and then mumble “What are the chances”

Just as you were about to ask his rank and which task force he is a part of, the server told you that your order was ready and simultaneously he received a phone call. You stand up and then smile over at the gentleman “it was nice to meet you…” pausing afterwards as you realized you don’t know his name.

“Callsign Ghost” he spoke with a light chuckle and reaches out his hand. You take it with a small nod “Viper” smiling as you responded. You then pull your hand back “Until next time I guess?” You ask and after he gives you a short nod in response, he walks back to his seat, takes the call, and leaves. Funnily enough not adding any sugar to his drink.

As time passed you continued to see Ghost quite often around the area, always exchanging hellos, checking up on timely things going on in each others lives. Even feeling comfortable to compliment him on his new watch to which he points out your shirt, saying how he didn’t recognize it. Making the effort to check in on each other if the person seems particularly chipper that day.

You should’ve known by how often you saw him that there was a chance you two lived in the same apartment complex. Yet you never saw him there so it was always just a theory in the back of both your and Ghost’s mind.

The first time he sees your there was a few months after you first met, when he was making his way back to his apartment and saw you at the receptionist desk he couldn’t help but be confused. Then becoming intrigued as he noticed you were arguing frantically with the receptionist.

“Look. Lydia is there any way someone can get started on the treatment today. I can’t stay at a hotel for weeks on end!” His brows furrowed at just how agitated you sounded. Spotting a large suitcase next to you along with a few bags. “Yes! I heard you the first time. Just… Is there any other apartment I can stay in?” You were practically pacing and steaming with rage.

“Then can you bring him out here! Seeing as he’s my fucking landlord!” The receptionist walks off for a moment and Ghost continues to observe. When they come back she says something that makes you scoff. You then lean over the desk and shout into the direction the receptionist had walked off to.

“Thank you so much for your help! I really appreciate how empathetic you are about the whole situation you fucking prick” Before stepping away from the desk and sitting at one of the chairs with your things. He chuckles to himself at your sarcasm, walking up to you when you pull out your phone and curse out in frustration.

“Viper?” Your head lifts and you spot Ghost walking up to you, “Hey… Ghost?” you look at him confused but then give him your best attempt at a smile. “I didn’t know you lived here.” He states and you scoff, shaking your head. “Not anymore. The pipes in the apartment above mine broke so there’s water damage everywhere. The landlord kicked me out while they fix it but didn’t give me anywhere else I could stay… so I’m currently homeless” you pinch the bridge of your nose and grumble.

He chuckled dryly “Well shit. I’m not surprised, that asshole never gives in any effort expect when it comes to drinking…” you can’t help but laugh softly at his joke. Ghost feels a butterfly sensation when he heard it, finding pride in lifting your mood ever so slightly.

“Anyone you can stay with? Or a hotel?” He then asks and you shake your head, looking at him and sighing. “No. No one I’d be willing to live with for weeks. And no hotel I’m willing to spend an unknown amount of money on for an indefinite amount of time”

At his soft hum of understanding you just shrug and there’s a comforting silence for a minute. He simply stood there as you aimlessly search through your phone for nearby hotels. “What if you stayed with me?” His words caught you off guard. Thinking he was joking you chuckle and look at him with furrowed brows and a questioning smile.

“What?” You ask and he shrugs, as if what he suggested wasn’t completely out of the blue and naively bold. “Why not? I mean we both are out most days. No point paying the rent for two apartments when neither of us spend most of our time there.” Your shock and skepticism slowly fades as you consider his words.

“Well… you have a point.” You murmur softly and put your phone in your pocket before putting you hands on your hips, looking down at your bags. “Are you sure?” You ask and he just nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Dove, as long as you pay your half and respect my ground rules. It should be just fine. I got a guest room you can use” he explains and you nod at his words.

Then sighing and shrugging dramatically. “Alright! It’s not like I got a better option right now” you smile at him and hear him chuckle dryly. With that he takes one of your bags and throws it over his shoulder, grabbing the handle of your large suitcase and beginning to walk off to the elevator with it. “Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can get settled in” you grin and grab the rest of your things, following after him.

At first you wouldn’t see Ghost that often, having different schedules and both of you immediately heading to your rooms to enjoy your time off. Slowly the two of you ended up seeking out each other’s company. Running into each other in the kitchen and enjoying a nice drink together after a long day.

Roughly two months later, when your apartment was fixed and ready for you to move in again, you spoke to Ghost and both of you agreed it would just be better to stay roommates. Over the next few months getting even closer, ordering food together for dinner, waking each other up in the mornings if one of you were sleeping in, distributing the chores, even going by a first name basis.

-

At this point you’ve been roommates for more than half a year, and it was just as any other day for Ghost. Sitting in a meeting with Captain Price up front telling the team about an upcoming mission. The goal, precautions, sub teams, targets, security, the whole nine yards.

Its then that he’s interrupted by a ringing phone. Ghost immediately cursing to himself as he feels the vibration in his pocket, meeting Price’s unamused gaze. He sighs “Off lieutenant.” To which Ghost nods “On it, sorry Captain” pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning off the ringer.

Not without spotting the unknown number and it’s familiar area code. Right from the area where you and Ghost lived. He noted down in his head to check it out after the meeting.

10 minutes later he walked out of the room, reaching his hand into his pocket and grabbing his phone. Curiosity getting the better of him as he pressed the most recent missed call. Holding the phone to his ear as it rang, leaning against the wall behind him as he waited.

After a few moments there was a click and a kind voice spoke. “Hello, am I speaking with a Simon Riley?” Ghost’s brows immediately furrowed, put at unease by the fact this stranger knew his name. “Who is this?” his tone stern and cautious as he waits for a response. “How’d you get this number?” he asks before the person on the other line could respond.

The voice then clears their throat “Thank you for calling back, this is the Woman’s and Children Highbury Hospital. You were put down as an emergency contact” the name of the hospital immediately registered with him… recognizing it as the hospital just a few blocks down from where you and him lived.

His heart caught in his throat and he stiffened up, now standing up straight looking off into nowhere. “Emergency contact?” he repeated to himself, mumbling so softly he thought the receptionist on the other line hadn’t heard him. Until he spoke.

“Yes sir. By an y/n y/l/n. They were in a severe car collision earlier today and were rushed to the hospital. They had to undergo an emergency surgery and in their files they left you as the emergency contact.” Ghost felt as if he lost the ability to speak. His phone shaking in his hand as the weight of those words sink in.

The voice of the receptionist fading away as he calls out through the phone, trying to get a response or a sign that Ghost was still listening. Realizing that in that moment of time you were lying in a hospital bed, suffering immensely, all alone. Snapping out of his daze as all his attention went to getting to that hospital.

“I’m on my way.” He spoke curtly into the phone, immediately hanging up and rushing to leave the base. Pushing past people without much care as he simply regarded them as obstacles in his way, stopping him from getting to you. As he rushed to the hospital, his mind was a storm he couldn’t manage to contain. Emotions running rampant.

Ghost never fully took the time to reflect on how he felt about you. Only knowing he enjoyed your company and couldn’t help but relax his reserved demeanor around you. Never feeling judged by you, or needing to explain anything about his past or why he acted the way he did.

Yet… as he rushed over to the hospital all he could think about was what he would’ve done if you hadn’t survived the accident. How he would’ve returned home to an empty apartment… fragments of you all around him. The photos you hung up to ‘add more life’ to the walls. Or the carpet you bought for an outrageous price just because ‘the woman who made it was so nice’.

How he would’ve never been able to share another drink with you… or argue about takeout ever again… never heard you singing to yourself while doing the chores. All those things that lifted his mood, he would’ve lost them all. If he had lost you… his closest friend and roommate.

His mind continued to fall down that rabbit hole of ‘what if’ and the more upset he got at the idea of you not longer being around, the more he realized just how much you meant to him.

Considering the idea that maybe he loved you more than a friend… cared for you so much that the mere idea of you being in pain made his knees weak. And the idea of you no longer being around had his body about ready to collapse in on itself.

How he managed to make it to the hospital without breaking down, he wasn’t quite sure. As he bursts through the doors he ignores the judgmental glances he gets. Rushing up to the receptionist desk in the lobby, the man behind it terrified at first at the sight of Ghost, still in his uniform and wearing his skull mask, rushing at him.

Ghosts hand gripped at the counter “Which room is y/n y/l/n in?!” although his voice was low and gruff the softness and worry behind it was enough for the receptionist to regain his focus. Eyes blinking and clearing his throat as he asks “A-and who are you sir?” looking at his screen as he awaits his response.

“Gho-…. Simon. Riley” he corrected watching the receptionist double check the information. “The emergency contact” he clarifies further, tapping his fingers anxiously and impatiently on the desk as he looks around, seeing people on crutches, injured, and bleeding. Images of you in that state making him close his eyes, just needing to see you. Alive and breathing.

The receptionist then nods his head and looks up at him again. “They’re in room 32 on the third floor, but I’ll warn you they-“ before he could finish his statement Ghost mumbled a thank you and was bolting down the hall. Straight past the elevator and rushing up the stairs skipping over steps with pounding footsteps.

Eyes spotting the room number at the end of the hall, and just as he was a foot away from the door, mere meters away from you… a doctor opened it and walked out. She looked up and Ghost halted to a stop as to not run into her.

“Ah. You must be Simon” giving him a sympathetic smile. Ghost could feel his heart pounding and his eyes kept flitting to the door “Y-yeah” he says quickly before trying to move past the doctor and through the door. Surprised when she steps in front of him blocking his path.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to see them in a moment” he looked at her with disbelief, eyes wide… how dare she keep him from you for a second longer. She then speaks before he can protest “I just want to warn you of the state they’re in…” and with those words he thinks better than to just burst in through the door.

Grumbling under his breath but turning his gaze back to the doctor, letting her know he was listening. She continued “They’re alive but asleep at the moment” just those two first words enough to make his shoulders relax, and he swore his vision went hazy at the relief that flooded through him.

“They are, however, suffering from major bruising, multiple broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a broken foot” her face sympathetic as she spoke, gauging his reaction. With every diagnosis his heart twisted that little bit more. Repeating to himself in his mind ‘At least they’re alive. At least they’re still here’ like a mantra, trying to focus on the ever so slight silver lining.

‘At least it’s not too late’

The doctor then finally steps aside, calmly advising him “I recommend you take a deep breath. They’re very emotionally vulnerable right now and we want to avoid stressing them out as much as possible” Ghost was more than ready to ignore that advice but at the thought of stressing you out, and remembering what he’s learned about how important it is not to panic in high stress situations, he pauses and gives a slight nod.

The doctor gives one final nod in return and then leaves. Simon takes a deep breath and with a shaking hand reaches for the doorknob. Gripping it and just holding it for a few seconds before finally finding the strength to turn it and walk inside.

There you were… lying practically lifeless on the hospital bed. Only sign of life the beeping of the heart monitor. Covered in white bandages which contrasted the deep purple bruises across your skin. His eyes continued to trace over your sleeping figure, noting the few gashes in your skin, the one on your calf even decorated with stitching.

You looked awful… it made him sick and he almost went looking for a trash can as he felt vomit threaten to make its way up his throat. He steps closer, moving to kneel on the floor next to the bed, eyes welling up in joy as he finally sees you… finally has proof that he didn’t lose you.

Eyes focused on the rise and fall of your chest and in the silence of the room… in the steady beeping of the monitor… he was finally able to organize his thoughts. Questioning himself on why he felt his world shatter when the hospital called him, why he was crying underneath his mask at the sight of you, why he could physically feel pain in his chest.

Then his eyes drifted up to your face, and even with the cuts and bruises on your face you still made his heart skip. He found himself tracing your every feature with his gaze, as if trying to map it out in his head. He’s never been this close to you before and in this moment he realized why… he couldn’t handle being this close to you.

It was as if he could feel his body physically melt next to you, hand reaching for yours before gently holding it, hoping it would keep him from dissolving into a puddle. Cursing to himself he rested his forehead against your hand and closed his eyes.

He loved you. Simon Riley really fucking loved you.

Never fully considering it before today… too afraid to even think about his feelings towards you. Yet now he regretted every day he didn’t tell you he loved you. Didn’t tell you how much you meant to him. This felt like another chance for him.

Another chance for him to share his true feelings with you because he just couldn’t lose you. Especially not without you knowing how much he loved you first. How he’d be willing to take every single one of your wounds on as his own just so you don’t have to suffer like this.

You had to know. He had to tell you before it was too late. He would wait by your bed for days on end, never once letting go of you, until you woke up. He wouldn’t let anyone or anything drag you away from him, not again. Not without a fight.

[elizmanderson]

2024 wrap-up, part 1

part two | part three | part four

[ABBA voice] here we go again, my my—

anyway, now that I've put that song in your head, let's look back at my year

writing

book stuff

as you may know, my second book, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits, releases in March 2025! so I spent much of this year editing, then editing some more, then line editing, then copy editing, then going over pass pages, then over more pass pages... the process never ends (until it's too late to make changes)

(artist: Xuan Loc Xuan)

if you find any typos in the final book come March, instead of being annoyed about them, you should recognize their determination and give them an award for MVT (most valuable typo) and a kiss on their lil typewritten forehead. because they made it not only through my own fifty six thousand rereads, but also through my agent, my editor, my copy editor, and my proofreader, and I think almost every single one of those people went through the book at least twice

anyway, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits is a cozy fantasy about an old man cursed with immortality who hunts ghosts rather than making mortal friends who will die one day. when the residents of an Ohio town beset by a vengeful spirit adopt him as their own, he must decide: leave to protect his heart, or stay to save their lives?

link to StoryGraph listing

link to signed preorders through my local indie

link to unsigned preorders through the publisher

I also received my first ever trade reviews, one of which was a starred review from Library Journal! trade reviews can convince booksellers and libraries to purchase the book, especially if positive, especially if starred. they look good on a book's resume

read the reviews here:

link to Library Journal review

link to Publishers Weekly review

short stories

because I was so busy with novel stuff, I only wrote one short story this year. part of one short story. back at the start of January.

you know what happened? I let it sit for a few days for reasons I no longer remember, and when I came back I couldn't remember quite where I was going with it a l a s

anyway it's a queer Cinderella-inspired short, and I'd love to magically figure out a direction for it afresh so I can finish it in 2025

in-progress stuff

...we still won't talk about how revising last year's cozy mystery is going, but in my defense (a) I've been on deadline for other things and (b) just nine chapters in I had already strayed so far from my scene list that I had to rethink the whole book, whoops

mostly, I've been working on the second book that this publisher bought, which has resulted in a very terrible first draft full of so many footnotes and brackets that I would almost call it a zero draft, except I can't bring myself to use that term*

(*for myself. y'all use it as much as you like, if you like it)

literally it was 79,000 words, 6,000 words of which were footnotes-to-self so as not to ruin my fancy WIP aesthetic (Blackadder and Perpetua ftw) with comments

anyway, then there was a marginally less terrible second draft, which is what my editor got (a respectable 98,000 words with zero footnotes and almost zero brackets)

THEN I was supposed to take a break and not think about the book again until my editor read it and got back to me...but instead I immediately wrote a brand new synopsis, sent it to her like "seriously you don't even have to read the version I already sent you bc it's gonna look so different," and then a couple weeks later whoops turned around started rewriting the whole story

which isn't going great bc I really DO need a break, I can TELL I need a break, but unfortunately when it comes to writing my brain is like "NO BREAK. ONLY WRITE >:[" which is Not Good. but I am trying to let myself casually poke at it instead of going hard and getting it done fast enough to send to my editor before she can even read the version she has lolol, so that's something

no-context spoilers for this WIP:

(tried finding the original post but could not, so screenshot from the internet it is)

that's it for part one! part two to follow is here! link to part two

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Sisterly advice

Wake the Dead fanfic

Pairing: Brynn Archer / Eva Archer (sisters)

@choicesfebruary2024 Prompt: Family

Summary: Eva and Brynn Archer enjoy a rare day off in the Tower.

Word count: 1,200

Rating: Teen

Today has been an almost perfect day, Eva Archer reflects.

She’d had the day off from pest control. Brynn and her crew were also on a rare break from scouting.

She and Brynn had woken up late, enjoyed a half decent meal for a change – scavengers had brought back apples from a nearby grove – and spent the afternoon playing cards with Cassidy, Dirk, Troy and Mack.

Even Troy had refrained from cheating, mostly. He’d slipped her a couple of aces under the table when her pile of chips had run dangerously low, grinning charmingly at Cassidy’s amused smirk, the others oblivious to the maneuver.

This was about as perfect a day as she could hope for within the confines of the Tower.

Her wandering thoughts sour at that.

The Tower.

Forever cooped inside a large, windowless, oppressive bunker. Surrounded by too many people, all busy eking out a living, oblivious to the world around them, living and working under the flickering of artificial neon lights.

Of course, there were bright spots in that otherwise bleak world.

Her Sister Brynn and her scouting crew, Cassidy, Dirk, Brianna. Their quirky friend Mack. And Troy, her best friend and partner in crime. They had become her adopted family. Made her existence in the Tower more bearable.

Eva dreams of being able to head out and see the world. Feel the grass between her toes again. Visit some old world relics she faintly remembered from her childhood and would avidly read about in Troy’s magazines - amusement parks, libraries, museums... She wants to swim in the sea. Feel the warm, salty breeze on her face.

Eva barely remembers life before the drones, before the Tower. She had been so young when people had started to change, when they’d lost their fathers and had been forced to flee. Brynn, still a child herself, taking on the parenting role.

“Hey! Earth to Eva! What are you daydreaming about?”

It’s the main reason she wants to become a scout so bad. To Brynn’s immense displeasure. Too dangerous, she’d growl, shutting down every attempt at a conversation.

Brynn pulls her out of her reverie with a light tug. Both sisters are sitting cross-legged on Brynn’s bottom bunk, the older sister’s hands nimbly working on braiding Eva’s fiery red hair.

“Nothing... I just.. I’m realizing, I’m starting to forget what the outside world looks like, feels like...” Eva murmurs, looking at her hands.

Brynn freezes, a pained look on her face.

“Eva...”

“And I know what you’re going to say, outside is dangerous, full of drones. And I know you’re right, I’m not trying to minimize the danger. But still, you get to actually leave this place for a while, breathe fresh air, feel the sun on your face... The last time I saw any of the outside world was when Troy ...”

Eva clamps her mouth shut, realizing she’d said too much.

“When you what? Eva, when the hell did you see the outside world with Troy?!” Brynn rounds on her, furious.

“It’s not like we left the tower or anything, Brynn! A... a few months ago, he took me to see the northern lights up on one of the top floors. We may have snuck back up a few times since... but only at night, with no one around to see us, I swear!”

“Are you kidding me, Eva?! Do you have any idea what’ll happen if Blackstock’s people find you sneaking into off limit areas? And after curfew at that?! God, I don’t know who's the worst influence between the two of you.”

Brynn stares at her, furious, then lets out an amused chuckle.

“You know, I thought the two of you were sneaking around making out or something. Was working myself up to the birds and bees talk. I definitely did not suspect late night stargazing. You’re such dorks!”

“Making out?! Birds and - what on earth gave you that ridiculous idea?” Eva splutters, face heating up.

“Oh come on, little sis, I’m not blind. I can see how you look at each other. And the not-so-subtle flirting.”

Wait, what does Brynn mean about Troy looking at me like… Eva’s mind spins as she thinks back to their daily interactions. His charming smile, his soft brown eyes sparkling with mischief and affection…

Nah, he’s just being friendly, as he’s always been. My best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Could they ever be something more?

She shakes the thoughts away.

Brynn smirks, enjoying her sister’s discomfort a little too much.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eva mumbles, “Troy's just a friend. Besides, he’s a huge flirt. And a goofball. And an ass more often than not. He’s really not my type.”

“Uh Huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Brynn smiles, amused.

“Okay, since we’re going there, what about you and Dirk? I see the way he looks at you. The guy worships the ground you walk on!” Eva turns towards her big sister, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Brynn becomes serious, a little hesitant.

“Dirk and I... It’s complicated. I know he cares about me. And I do have… feelings. But when you’re out with someone risking your lives on a near daily basis, you need to fully trust them. Right now, we have a great dynamic going with him, Cassidy, Brianna. We have each other’s backs, but we also know none of us will hesitate to do the hard thing if one of us got bit. If Dirk and I became something more, I’m worried it’d cloud our judgement if things went south...”

Eva takes in the admission, brows knitted, then grabs her big sister in a crushing hug.

“Brynn, you deserve happiness. And love - even if it’s with someone as grumpy as Dirk.”

Brynn scoffs at that, but Eva continues.

“I swear, you’re always putting everyone’s needs and wellbeing ahead of yours. Even the damn job. You’re always looking out for me -”

“It’s my job, even though you don’t make it easy, you brat!”

“Well, if you weren’t such a stuck-up ass all the time ...”

“Watch it, lil sis...” Brynn growls, eyes narrowing in warning.

“Or what? You gonna -”

Eva squeals as Brynn lunges at her, jumping off the bed. She ducks as a pillow sails right above her head.

“I swear Eva, I don’t know how I even put up with you.” Brynn mutters, getting up to grab her boots.

“’It’s cause you loooove me!”

“You’re lucky we’re related or you’d be out on your ass. Now get a move on or we’ll miss evening rations.”

“Yeah yeah.” Eva smirks.

She suddenly turns serious, pensive.

“For what it’s worth, Brynn, I get your concern that letting someone in may… complicate an already good thing. But if you don’t, you can also miss out on the chance of something amazing.”

Brynn stops to ponder. Then smirks.

“Wait, actual words of wisdom from my little sis? I guess you did learn something in between all your suspensions. Any chance you’ll follow your own advice?”

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Riiiight.”

Eva rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around Brynn to give her a hug.

Brynn reaches up and playfully rubs her knuckles on her sister’s head.

“Ouch! Brat!”

Both sisters giggle and tease each other as they head out into the labyrinth of neon-lit hallways.

[eds6ngel]

Hello dear! I have an idea about Robin, how she found out that the reader is bisexual! 💖💜💙

hi, my love! of course i can do this! as a bisexual woman myself, some of the description of this story hit home, so i hope you find comfort in it too <3

warnings: fem!reader. swearing. mentions of homophobia. mentions of religion. lesbophobic & homophobic language. coming out. hurt. comfort. fluff. kissing. childhood best friends to lovers [1.5k].

Falling in love wasn’t easy. It wasn’t the magical fairytale it was made out to be. But, not in the way that everyone else found. Most people had their normal fears: rejection, break-ups, cheating. But you? You had the added fear of being in a relationship with a woman in small town Indiana.

You heard the names, the stereotypes, the classic “You need Jesus,” Hawkins was one of the worst places to be gay.

At least in the big cities like New York, you could find small-knit communities, bars, hangout spots for fellow gay people, but Hawkins? You were left in the dark. Well, except for one person.

You had been best friends with Robin Buckley since childhood. The two of you met in English class in 2nd grade, forced to sit next to each other by the teacher’s annoyingly arranged seating plan. However, you soon became friends after realising how many interests you had in common.

And to this day, the last year of school, you were still as close as your seven year old selves.

Robin was an undeniably beautiful girl, one of the prettiest girls in Hawkins. You just thought that for many years, that was a test of close friendship. She had a stunning personality, gorgeous aura and was the kindest person you’d ever met, of course it was normal to also find her face beautiful, right?

But, apparently not. As you rambled about Robin to your other friends, they used to make jokes about how you were “acting like a lesbo,” or “becoming a queer.” And, although those terrible words that were not used nicely, perhaps they were right.

But, you knew you liked men too. Some of the guys at Hawkins High were gorgeous, you had dated a few of them for that matter, and although they all ended in break-ups, their gender never played a factor in that.

However, one day you were fortunate enough to stumble across the word “bisexuality” in one of the feminist books buried at the back of Hawkins Library.

“Romantic or sexual attraction to both males and females.”

It felt… right. Accurate. It felt like you.

From there on, your exploration went deeper. You didn’t want to just be friendly with Robin, you want to be romantic with her. Hold her, kiss her, love her. That’s what you wanted to do.

And fortunately, Robin had already told you her biggest secret, she exclusively liked women.

The reason Robin felt safe enough to tell you that she was a lesbian was because of a certain day spent at her house. Her mother had on one of the religious channels, the preacher rambling on about how being gay was a sin, and how all gay people are going to Hell. And you simply replied, “What a bunch of bullshit. It’s just two men or women in love, why is that such a big deal to them?”

And less than a week later, she had come out to you. Those two simple sentences stripped away any worries she ever had about her sexuality.

So, it was an automatic given that Robin would accept your sexuality, those worries were off the table. But, just because she’s into women, doesn’t mean she’s into you.

And that’s where you can connect with the general population. That fear of rejection. What if she didn’t see you that way? The soft touches, the closeness, the longing gazes, what if they were all platonic?

But, it was worth a shot, right?

Your picnic was long abandoned, paper plates of food sprawled across the checkered pink blanket as you and Robin lay flat on each end.

You were simply basking in the hot, breezy summer air, eyes closed as you breathed steadily. You talked when you wanted about whatever. There would be long moments of silence before ten minutes of talking about the latest delivery at Family Video.

But now, the conversation had taken a more serious turn.

“Did you see what was on the front page of the Hawkins Post the other day?” Robin asks.

“I don’t think so, I only read them if I pass by the local corner store,” you reply.

Robin sighs, a sense of sadness laced in her tone, “There was this candid shot of these two guys kissing. It was definitely taken from in the bushes or something, it was out in the woods. But—“ she takes a breath, “The headline said: ‘The Queers are plaguing Hawkins.’”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you let out, your mouth becoming dry at the thought of the potentially life-threatening headline. “Please tell me they haven’t found out who it was.”

“Not that I know of,” Robin replies, “But, this is Hawkins. It’s only a matter of time, you know?”

You nod, knowing that she was right. This was a scary place to be different in any shape or form. Anything that went against God was deemed “Satanic.” But, even so, would God approve of their actions? At their hurtful words, their harmful behaviours?

“How do you cope with it?” you ask Robin, “Knowing that you’re a lesbian in a town that despises your pure existence?”

Robin sighs, “You just have to hide it. You know, Steve knows, and that’s it. Whoever you crush on, you just have to look for signs. Signs that they are into women. Which is almost never, but, you just try your best.” She takes a breath before continuing, “And then you have to basically build a friendship, build that trust so you know that if you do admit your crush to them and they are actually straight, they won’t spread your secret around.”

Her answer provided everything you needed to know, and all the pre-cautions she listed you didn’t have to worry about, because she was accepting, she was into women. You just had to pray that she reciprocates.

“Um… Robin?” you let out, her letting out a small hum as you ask, “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. You’re my best friend, you can tell me anything.”

You sigh, sitting up from your laying down position, “Recently, I’ve been thinking about relationships, about who I like. As you know, most of my relationships haven’t ended well,” you chuckle softly, “But, maybe it’s because I haven’t… explored enough.”

Robin looks at you with confusion, following you in sitting up herself, knees tucked up to her chest. You exhale, “I found this book at Hawkins Library. It talked about sexuality, about different definitions and things, and… I found one, and I think it might define me.”

You can sense Robin’s face soften as you explain yourself, you know she knows what you are getting at. “Do you know what bisexuality is?”

Robin smiles, “Men and women, yeah, I know what it is.”

“Yeah, well… I think that’s what I am.”

Robin grins at you, her facial expression soft as she replies, “I’m so happy for you!” she beams, “I’m glad you’ve found yourself. That’s hard to realise living here, so I’m proud of you.”

You turn your gaze away from her, “There’s something else I want to say… I didn’t go searching for answers for no reason,” you start.

Robin’s face contorts back to that same confusion that she started with, “I was telling my friends about you, and they accused me of being… queer,” you frown at the word, “And I thought about it… and maybe they were right.”

“Are you saying you realised because of me?”

You nod, “Yeah, Robs,” you take a breath, “I like you. I like you a lot. And I know it’s probably wrong for me to assume that you like me back just because you like girls, like obviously you don’t like every woman and that’s actually really fucking offensive the more I think about it—“

But, you are cut off by a pair of lips on your own, the feeling of that soft, delicate skin of hers brushing your cheek that you love oh so much.

Robin quickly pulls back, beginning to ramble herself, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to cut you off, and definitely not in that way. I should’ve asked you permission first, like why didn’t I even think of that—“

However, you proceed to copy what she did to you, leaning forward and delicately taking her top lip in between yours, pushing her hair out of her face softly with your hand. As you part, you giggle as you stare up at her, a few inches between your faces, “You’re cute when you ramble, you know that?”

You can see Robin’s cheeks heat up at the compliment, her gaze avoiding yours as you lift her chin up towards you, “And when you blush.”

She smiles gently as she whispers out, “I like you too.”

You chuckle, “I’m glad to hear that,” before capturing your lips between hers once more. The pair of you cupping each other’s cheeks as you fall back against the picnic blanket, giggling like a pair of school children.

Maybe this is what life was worth living for. Falling in love with your best friend whilst kissing to your hearts content in the middle of a field of wheat. It may not be perfect for everyone, but it sure was for you.

thank you for the request! i really hope it was what you wanted <3

[mrscorcoran]

One more secret won't hurt / Bunny x reader

Part 1

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Chapter 2: Encounter with the weirdos

Sundays are for walking. Just like Saturdays are for reading and Mondays are for crying. It feels natural, meant to be. The college is surrounded by miles of woods, dissected by dozens of trails in every direction. A dream campus for an avid hiker. If I could, I’d spend my every waking hour exploring every trail, every nook and cranny of this beautiful Vermont wilderness. But trying to be a semi-functional adult that passes all her classes, I decided I’d dedicate only my Sundays to this hobby. Being responsible sucks ass.

But I am nothing in my soul if not responsible. So, on Saturdays, I made my way down to the little library to work on the week’s assignments and papers. Being a literature major means most of my day is spent reading and writing. I enjoy the reading part, but writing can be such a pain in the ass, having to find exactly the right word to describe something, having to come up with a combination of words in an order that’s never been done before or it’s plagiarism, and don’t get me started on writer’s block. Knowing I get to explore a new path the next day is what gets me through these harrowing Saturdays.

So, I make my way to the library, my bag hanging off my shoulder, full of assignments due way too soon, screaming in agony to be completed. It’s 8 a.m. Too early for there to be too many people in the library on a Saturday. It buys me a few hours of reading with no distractions. It’s not like I have issues staying focused, like ADHD or something, I’m just extremely nosey. At least that’s what I tell myself to avoid taking meds.

I find an empty table near a window and sit down. I put on my noise cancelling headphones just in case, pull my copy of Frankenstein out of my bag, and start reading. Of course, I’ve read it a hundred times before, but now that I gotta analyze it for an essay, I find my brain completely blank. What original thought could I possibly have about a 200-year-old book that hasn’t been said before? What could I analyze that hasn’t been analyzed from a hundred different perspectives already? Maybe re-reading it will jiggle a decent idea out of my fried-out brain.

After a few dozen pages and exactly zero ideas, I put the book down and remove my headphones to take a small break. I release a heavy, exhausted sigh and rub my eyes. With my ears free of the headphones, I notice the library is not so quiet anymore. I look up and immediately spot the source of the noise. A few tables away I see a small group of people dressed oddly formal, discussing something in a strange language. Latin, maybe? Greek? Specifically, one of the boys is the source of the commotion. He’s not screaming; in fact, he’s using a regular speaking tone, but in a library that’s pretty much the same thing.  The others reply to his arguments in whispers, but this does not make the blond guy speak any lower.

I have seen this group around campus, talking amongst themselves and disappearing into the vine covered building, but I’ve never seen any of them in any of my classes. I haven’t paid too much attention to them, but it’s not hard to notice they are a bit odd.

The redhead seems annoyed, his head buried in a notebook while he aggressively scribbles something down, not paying any attention to the loud discussion happening around him. The only girl sitting with them is very pretty. She’s listening carefully and offering a few words here and there. The guy sitting next to her looks exactly like her but with shorter hair. I assume they’re either twins or it’s a very freaky coincidence. He also seems a bit disinterested in the outcome of the discourse, rolling his eyes a few times at the other boys. The two other dark-haired guys are the most involved, pointing at something in one of the books, and then at some scribbles in a notebook.

But the loud one, the blond guy with the glasses, is the one that caught my eye. I’d say that’s easy to do when you’re being this loud in a quiet place, but it’s not the loudness. He looks so excited, speaking in that gibberish sounding language, his hands moving around wildly, as if he’s trying to prove the most important point ever. He has my full attention. I stare at his lips, trying to make sense of any of the sounds, when I finally catch a few English words.

- “But that would make no sense though! Why would they be sailing to Carthage to attack?” then a few more words in the strange language. “See? It’s the aorist!”

- “Why are you so stubborn? We can just use the locative case, you can remove the epi if you don’t think they’re going to attack, and those who think they will just keep the epi. Problem solved,” said one of the dark-haired boys.

Holy shit. Even in English I have no idea what they’re talking about. Sounds like they’re trying to translate a very complicated text.

I keep staring at them, occasionally glancing down at my book to be less obvious. His energy is so contagious, how are the rest of them not scream-speaking like him? I have no clue what they’re even disagreeing on, but I’m on his side. He almost looks out of place here, like he should be on a pirate ship somewhere, yelling out orders, or maybe on a T.V. ad, trying to sell something outrageous with a surprising success rate, not here in a quiet library, talking about whatever ‘Carthage’ is.

My book is forgotten on the table after a while. It’s not shaping up to be a very productive Saturday after all. When I look down at my watch, I realize it’s almost noon. I see the group packing up their stuff and making their way out of the library, probably to grab some lunch. I should do the same, so I pack my half-read book and my blank notebook into my bag and start resignedly walking to my dorm to get food. I don’t think this Frankenstein paper is going to get written soon. My mind is still on the mysterious group, and the loud guy that seemingly stole more than just a bit of my attention.

[clouds-rambles]

Hey bestie may I request diluc,childe,zhongli,and venti having a bad nightmare over their s/o wanting to break up with them and when they wake up their s/o isn’t there but really they’re in another room or something if that makes sense!! Thank you 🤑

Hi bestie positively evil... i love it <3 nobody question why zhongli and the reader are married in all my headcanons thanks lmao

Pairings; (Seperate) Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, and Venti x reader

Warning(s); panic, nightmares, hurt/comfort, injury mention

Keep reading under the cut!

Diluc

Diluc wakes with a start, his brows furrowed as he takes a moment to arrange the events of his nightmare in his head

Both you and he had a particularly explosive argument after he had come back injured from a night protecting Mondstat 

You had left the winery after exclaiming that you refuse to date someone who has such a lack of regard for his own life. In the long run you’d be saving yourself from further heartbreak if he ended up dead on the front porch

Diluc wonders if dream you could be right...

The red-head finally notices the cold side of the bed you should be sleeping on. He more than remembers going to sleep with you

Panic sets in at the bottom of Dilucs stomach. He must be imagining things right? You’re probably just in the bathroom

A beat passes

Then three

No, you’re not in the bathroom. He would have heard you by now...

What if the dream was actually what had happened last night. A breath catches in the mans throat as he gets out of bed and throws a shirt on

If he couldn’t find you in his home has he truly lost you?

Diluc speedily walks through the halls of his home, checking the spare rooms, the study, the library, the living room, the dining room, the

Diluc opens the door to the kitchen his heart threatening to break out of his chest at the pace it’s beating when he finally spots you drinking a cup of tea, in your pajamas

Thank the archons it was just a dream

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” you ask getting up from the table in the kitchen to your sweating, hyperventilating partner

Diluc says nothing but opts to hugging you, his head bowing to your chest as he breaths you in

“Diluc, you’re worrying me” you tell him returning his embrace and rubbing circles on his back

“You weren’t in bed” is all he offers to tell you. You don’t push him on the details of why he is so panicked

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for a herbal tea” you explain kissing the man on his bed of fluffy hair “I have a cup left in the kettle, I can pour one out for you” you offer

“Please” he breathes, but doesn’t move to let you go from the embrace, you can stand to hold him and tell him sweet nothings for a little while. Tea can always be reheated

Childe

It would only be right, and he suspected as much. You had told him that because of what has recently transpired in Liyue you cannot find yourself to love a brutal harbinger

Maybe its for the best. Childe concludes not paying much attention to his weeping heart. Maybe, you’d be happier not to be under the constant eye and scrutiny of the Qixing, the Milleth, and the watchful eye of Childes own fatui informants

Without much pause form Childes last thought the man finds himself waking in his room, unsure if the dream was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he feels your side of the bed and notices a distinct lack of warmth... and you

He cries

Childe curls himself up in a ball determined to not get caught by anyone showing such an extreme and out of character emotion, he let himself cry. He’s pretty sure he’s sobbing loudly but he doesn’t care. It’s just him in the house anyway. The one person that he doesn’t mind seeing such emotions has left him

That’s until he hears the distinct click of the bedroom door open “Oh my archon Childe, are you okay?” you ask quickly making your way to the side of his bed and placing a hand on his shoulder

The man looks up to you, he isn’t sure if you’re real 

“I thought-” he starts “I had a-” he tries to find his words without seeming like a crazed person “You weren’t-” 

“It’s okay babe, I’m right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere” you console “I just had an epiphany in my dream and I had to write it down” you add explaining your absence. Childe nods along 

“Stay” he tells you as you wipe the tears out of his eyes. You nod and hum

“Of course” you lay onto the bed and let Childe wrap himself around you

You hum him to sleep and whisper sweet nothings

Zhongli

‘I can’t love you anymore Zhongli, I feel obligated to come back to Liyue after every adventure, it’s starting to take a toll on me’

‘But our vows, [name] we made a contract at the altar’

‘To love each other, yes? Zhongli there’s no love left in this marriage, you sleep in the spare bedroom whenever I’m back, we sit in silence over dinner, I don’t think I’ve kissed you in months. The lack of love itself is the breach in the contract’

‘But I-’

‘Think about it, do you really feel the same love that you felt on the day we got married?’

‘[name]-’

Zhongli wakes up with a start, his heart beats a little fast for a second. The man convinces himself it’s just a dream he had, but the coldness of your side of the bed seems to speak otherwise

In all fairness, Zhongli should have rationalised his dream before he started wondering the house like a mad man. The only time he sleeps in the other bed is when you’ve suffered an extreme injury, dinners are often spent with jolly laughs and conversation. And Zhongli prides himself on the amount of affection he gives you around the house... and in the bedroom

But most things aren’t making sense in his head right now

“Zhongli my love” you call him upon noticing him in the hall. You had just come out of the bathroom after a midnight toilet break “Are you okay darling?” you ask placing a hand on his shoulder

The tenseness in Zhongli’s shoulders dissipate as soon as you initiate the touch

“I love you” he tells you, the declaration is out of nowhere to you. But you smile at him and embrace him

“And I love you too” you pause bringing up your hand baring the ring that sits on it “And this ring is a reminder of our vows and my unyielding love to you” you tell him with a smile

Zhongli chuckles at you and returns your hug “You seem to always know how to comfort me my dear”

“It’s because I’m a mind reader” you jest matching your spouses chuckle

Venti

Disappeared. So much so that the thousand winds could tell Venti that you were in fact not in Mondstat and had travelled to Liyue from the time Venti was playing music in the tavern to when he knocked for you early the next morning

The only trace you left was a letter. Unmistakeably written by your hand

‘Venti, writing this in a letter is much easier than saying this to your face. I am quite simply tired of your antics, no matter try to talk to you, you seem to always brush me off. Be it the nights you spend at the tavern, my general concern when you disappear for days at end just to tell me you were at the thousand winds temple, stormterrors lair, or windrise, no matter how much I tell you I checked all three. Being in a constant state of concern isn’t good for me, it’s emotionally draining and I’m terrified of finding you dead somewhere, despite your archon blood. By the time you read this I’ll be in Liyue where I’ll be staying with a friend for a while. Tell me I’m going somewhere you can’t follow, and I’ll tell you this is how I have felt many a night. I wish I could have kept loving you, [name]’

A harsh way to break up Venti admits to himself rereading the paper a few times before waking up

A dream?

Venti holds his chest, surely a dream couldn’t conjure such a horrific sinking feeling that makes him want to just vomit

Looking to your side of the bed for your comfort the sinking feeling intensifies when he doesn’t see you

So it wasn’t a dream? Venti doesn’t want to call on his kin, the thousand winds, again just to be told once more that you’re currently in Liyue sipping tea with this cousin you had mentioned in the letter 

The archon sits up in bed and takes deep breaths, he doesn’t want to explain to anybody that he had a panic attack over your horrific breakup letter, no no

After calming his breaths Venti steps out of bed with a shaky few steps before walking downstairs to engage in the typical breakout routine. Snacking. Maybe when you left you had elected to ignore some of the snacks you love to litter about your abode

When Venti walks in to the living room towards the kitchen he sees you nursing your head on the couch

“[name]?” he asks in almost disbelief

“Hm,” you answer before looking up to Venti “Oh hey love, sorry I’ve got a headache” you greet properly after a moment. Venti grins at you which causes you to tilt your head. Why is your headache so grin worthy? Weird...

“Would you like some paracetamol?” he asks walking beside you, you shake your head

“I just took some” you reply looking up at your partner “Though I’d love to rest my head on your thighs” you add. Venti more then obliges and settles down on the couch

“You know I had the strangest dream” Venti tells you after a prolonged amount of silence, you hum to let him know you’re listening “You left me” he says bluntly

Oh

Damn

You bring yourself up to Venti’s face with a smile and give him a kiss “I love you Venti, I wouldn’t leave you for even the prettiest lyre” you half console half jest

“That’s because the prettiest lyre is mine” Venti chuckles and you nod pressing another kiss to Venti’s lips

guys it’s 2.42am I’m so sorry if there’s grammatical errors, my brain isn’t catching up rn

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break.  When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War,  minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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 You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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 Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

 ♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

  The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

[erwinsvow]

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

summary: you and eren, your boyfriend armin’s best friend, have always had a strange relationship. things take a turn when armin goes home for the weekend, leaving the two of you alone on friday night.

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), guilty reader feels bad, implied infidelity, masturbation, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy kink

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: i once said i would never write for eren, so i guess that was a fat lie! enjoy!

You’re not sure about exactly when you became so comfortable with having Eren around. It was kind of like a two-for-one deal with your boyfriend, Armin, since he was so rarely seen without his best friend at his side. Their majors were so different that they hardly ever had classes together, and so the pair of them made up for lost time by spending all their other time together. 

It wasn’t totally out of the blue if Eren would crash on the couch next to you, while you were curled up beside Armin, hands interlaced and head resting softly on his chest. You’d jolt at the impact of Eren—a huge guy compared to anyone’s standards—jumping beside you and disrupting the peaceful intimacy you were sharing with your boyfriend. Armin didn’t seem to be annoyed or frustrated, and so you wouldn’t prove to be, either. You and him would welcome Eren with a laugh, directing him to the leftovers from your take-out and enjoying the company of a man who wasn’t your boyfriend far too much. 

It was easy to fall into the trap of it. Maybe Armin was always missing the way Eren’s eyes raked over your figure whenever you’d walk into the room. Maybe he was too enraptured by his marine biology textbook to notice how Eren stared at the supple skin of your exposed thighs when you took a seat next to them, dress hiking up a little or skirt much too short for a study-date with two boys. You were never much of a tease because it was so easy when you and Armin started seeing each other, so natural and comfortable that you didn’t have to try any unusual flirting methods on the golden-haired boy. As a result, he didn’t really know what bubbled under the surface of your skin and all the different thoughts that plagued your mind. 

So you think that’s why it was so easy to fall into the trap of it all, making eyes at Eren while your boyfriend sat right next to you. Choosing outfits that had previously been stuffed into the depths of your closet, because you didn’t think Armin would approve. You kept up the facade in front of your lovely boyfriend, though, because at the end of the day, you loved him and no one else. You didn’t want to break his heart by cheating on him with his closest friend, even though the electricity between you and Eren made all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and made goosebumps appear on every inch of the soft skin of your legs that Eren loved to leer at so much. No, because at the end of the day, it was plainly wrong to even think about another man when you had Armin in your life. 

That’s what you told yourself when you stopped exchanging glances with Eren, started wearing blue again instead of green, and asked Armin if you two could have more time alone. You thought Armin looked confused, and he was, but for entirely different reasons. While you had been concerned with Eren’s gaze and intentions, Armin had been silently paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend. You thought he was innocent, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. And there wasn’t a thought in Eren’s head that Armin couldn’t figure out well in advance. If you wanted to fuck Eren, all you had to do was ask, but he quickly realized you were trying to be a good little girlfriend again, rather than the devilish slut you had been recently. Well, if you weren’t going to do anything, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. 

Eren had always wondered why you spent so much time with Armin, and by virtue of association, with him. Any other little girlfriend would at least take some time alone to study, but you practically spent every minute at Armin’s side or in their shared apartment. Armin’s explanation of how you didn’t get along with your roommates made so much sense, especially now that you were going to be sleeping in Armin’s room for the weekend while he went back home for a ‘family emergency’. 

You had asked Armin if Eren would be going back with him in a certain voice, one that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as he eavesdropped from his own bedroom. A mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and excitement? Was that excitement he noted? He wishes he could look into your eyes to tell, but all he can do is listen to Armin tell you that Eren would be staying in the apartment. 

Eren can almost hear your heartbeat speed up, eyes blinking quickly and heat rushing to your face. Of course Armin trusted his best friend to stay with his girlfriend for a weekend. The two people he loved the most would never betray him, and so he had nothing to fear. 

Back to being the devoted girlfriend you are, you help Armin pack his bags late Thursday night. You folded clothes on his bed and tucked them into the duffel bag neatly, while Armin looked around for his books. He would be leaving right after his classes Friday morning, and so you knew by the time you returned after your classes, he would be long gone, leaving just you and Eren to fend for yourselves Friday night. 

In the morning, you’re greeted by Armin pressing a kiss to your forehead as he heads to his eight-am lecture. Through the daze of sleep and heavy-lidded eyes, you grasp his hand softly in a failed attempt to keep him with you a little longer, but you hear him murmur something that distinctly sounds like “Don't worry, baby, Eren will take care of you” before he leaves.

You fall back asleep after, missing the way Armin and Eren talk briefly before he departs. You wake up in Armin’s bed alone, to the sound of your alarm. Usually, Fridays are your favorite day of the week because you have a light schedule and you get to spend most of the day with Armin. His classes end right when yours start, so you’d get to grab coffee with him and meet for lunch after, before either heading to the library to get work done or to his apartment because you knew Eren wouldn’t be around and therefore you could be as loud as you want.

But not today. You had to get breakfast alone, before going off to class and sitting in the library alone. You didn’t realize how quickly the day had passed by, in between studying and texting Armin to make sure he got home safely, and avoiding the pit in your stomach that kept reminding you that you’d be going home to Eren soon. You looked outside the library window from your seat, and saw the sun was setting, meaning the library was closing soon and that you had to face reality. You’re thinking about how to put going back to the apartment for even longer, maybe stopping somewhere to eat dinner, when your phone buzzes with a text notification. 

You pick it up quickly, hoping it’s from Armin, but your stomach drops again when you see the screen lit up with Eren’s name. A singular message from him reads: Did you eat yet? 

Bastard. How does he know your thoughts before you even think them? 

You’re faced with two choices. Lie to him, then go get dinner by yourself, and then finally go back to your own home and put up with your terrible roommates for another night… or go to the apartment, order dinner with Eren, and avoid his lecherous looks long enough to get yourself safely inside Armin’s room with the door locked. 

You feel your heart pounding inside your chest at the thought of having dinner with Eren alone. He never did anything too forward or telling with you, but you suspect it was only because Armin was always right beside you. There’s no telling what he would do if he got you alone. Your heart’s pounding, but another feeling altogether is creeping into your stomach and up to your chest, one that’s making you feel hot all over despite how chilly the air in the library is. 

You’re nearly lost in your thoughts until your phone buzzing again brings you back to reality. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in as you read his text, this time longer; We can order dinner when you get here. Promise I don’t bite.

You feel like hurling your phone across the empty library, because every sane thought in your mind is telling you not to go over there, but every bone in your body feels like it’s being pulled towards Eren. Suddenly you think back to all those times you had teased him intentionally, and how strange you feel right now, like two different versions of yourself are fighting with each other. A third buzz makes your decision for you. 

Am I really so much worse than those roommates of yours?

Eren was many things, but that was one thing he was not. You quickly remember just how often you had shown up at Armin’s doorstep in tears, or so angry you had steam blowing out of your ears, because of how much you hated them. You only had to deal with them for a few more months, so it was easy enough to avoid them and only stop by to get clothes and the occasional shower. To make matters worse, it was Friday night and they would definitely be having some kind of a party or get-together, which meant there was no way you’d be getting any sleep there. 

I’m on my way, can we get pizza? 

… 

It’s only seven-thirty when you and Eren are sitting on the couch, some movie playing on the television that you aren’t paying attention to. Your nerves only let you eat a slice of pizza, while Eren scarfed down nearly half the box. You knew you were fucked when Eren opened the door, clad only in grey sweatpants and the slick sheen of sweat apparent on his entire body, from his muscular arms to his abs.

Bastard, bastard, bastard. He opened the door like that on purpose, just to see you react with a splutter and blush red.

“I’m just gonna jump into the shower, can you order the pizza?” he shouted to you while walking back to his bedroom. He came out with a towel, and you had barely processed the words because the only thing you could think about were his arms. You knew Eren was fit, anyone could tell just by looking at him, but you had no idea he was built like that. If you were a lesser woman, you would have tried to sneak glances at Eren getting into or out of the shower during all those opportunities you had, but you never did, because it felt wrong to look away from Armin’s blue eyes to focus on Eren.

But now, with no one else there to stop or distract you, your eyes were glued to his muscular figure. It wasn’t too hard to think about how easily he could pin you somewhere—up against a wall, or a door maybe, or across the dinner table. It wouldn’t even take him both hands to keep your head shoved down or keep both your arms pinned back as he—

“Hey, you okay? Did you hear me?” Eren asks again, standing right in front of you. He’s trying his hardest to sound sincere, but there’s a smirk on his face as he observes your behavior. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear as day now.

“I-I’m fine. What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever kind you want, just get extra cheese. Menus on the table,” he says, before turning back around and walking to the bathroom. You’re almost jaw-dropped as you watch him walk away, and hear the water turn on. You take several deep breaths, reminding yourself to stay calm. After dinner, you could go into Armin’s room and be completely fine. 

You order the pizza and go into Armin’s room to sort your stuff out, looking through your bag and searching for clothes to sleep in. You knew you had packed them, but you suddenly couldn’t find them anywhere. Your shorts and t-shirt were missing, and you quickly realized you left them on your bed while you had gone to grab your toothbrush. Damn it. 

Armin has a collection of perfectly soft and comfortable shirts to sleep in, so you open one of his drawers and pull out a dark green one, with some design on it. There’s no shorts that would fit you among Armin’s clothes, so you’ll have to do without them tonight. It’s fine though, considering the door will be locked and you’ll be safe and sound once you and Eren go to bed. Or so you thought.

Now you’re sitting on the couch, still dressed in your day clothes and feeling hot again. You knew Armin liked to keep the apartment on the warmer side, but you had never felt quite this warm before.

Eren glances at you with a quizzical look, and you realize your shiftiness and breathy pants are more noticeable than you thought. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out and you barely ate a thing,” he comments, keeping his eyes on you which somehow makes you feel even worse. His gaze is piercing, and though you never really cared that Eren always looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes, it’s bothering you now more than ever.

“I-I’m okay,” you get out, before suddenly standing up and taking off the cardigan you had worn all day. “I think I just need to shower, good night Eren,” you say, before walking away much too quickly. Eren’s eyes don’t leave you until you’re inside Armin’s room once more, wondering why you’re so hot and bothered at a simple stare from him. Him, who is not your boyfriend, and barely qualifies as your friend and for some reason has you wet from looking into those green eyes for too long.

Enough. 

Armin was kind and sweet enough to let you sleep at his place when he’s not even there, and you wanted to repay that kindness by having dirty thoughts about his best friend? No, it wasn’t right, in fact, it was inherently wrong. You take a few more moments in Armin’s room, inhaling the familiar scent of his fabric softener and all the old books on his shelves, before taking your towel and going to the bathroom. Eren is still in the living room, eating and watching the movie, you presume, and you wish to God he would leave you alone and go out to party or fuck some other girl, but he’s not. He’s spending a quiet Friday night at home with you.

The hot water and clean soap distract you from your thoughts, but the tension and heat growing in your body is only exacerbated when you run your hands across your body. There’s something very wrong about touching yourself in the shower when Eren is a dozen feet away and could hear you easily—but that’s a risk you’re willing to take if it meant it would get illicit thoughts of him out of your brain for the rest of the night. 

One hand goes to play with your hardened nipple, as the other tenderly begins to rub circles on your clit. Your hands try to imitate Armin’s, and he’s always gentle with you, but as you let out a muffled moan, you realize it’s not Armin’s careful touch you want right now. It’s Eren’s rough fingers, fingers that would move in and out of your wetness harshly, not waiting for you to adjust to their size. Eren wouldn’t start with one, like Armin, he would go for three and keep his thumb on your clit, rubbing so fast and in just the right way, while his mouth would be on your tits—tongue doing the talking for him on your sensitive nipples. He wouldn’t care to stop if it was getting to be too much, and he wouldn’t let you come down from your high before starting again, he would just keep going. Eren would know when you’ve had enough, and just once didn’t meet his requirements for enough. 

If anyone could see you right now, you could die from embarrassment, furiously fucking your fingers and completely unaware of how loud you were being as you tried to imitate what Eren would do to you. But imitating wasn’t quite enough, You were so close, you could almost feel that tight knot in your stomach unwind, just a little more—-

Knock. 

“Hey, you’ve been in there a while. Everything okay?” Eren’s voice is muffled from outside the door, and the waterfall coming from the shower suddenly felt like it was pounding beside you. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a frustrated, stifled sob. 

“Y-yeah! I’m almost done!” you call back out, fingers still inside you. You remove them with a gasp, shaking and face burning at the idea that Eren might have overheard you. You get out of the shower on wobbly legs, wrapping the towel securely around you and heading to Armin’s bedroom to change and put an end to this strange day. You don’t notice that Eren’s door is cracked open a little.

As strange as it sounds, you feel much better once you’re in Armin’s shirt and just a pair of panties, ready for bed. A nagging voice in the back of your head wants you to finish what you started in the shower, nipples hard again as the air seems cooler than earlier, but you push the thoughts aside. Another day.

You grab your water bottle to take your birth-control pill, eight forty-five on the dot, but realize its contents are empty as a result of your earlier hot flash. You tiptoe into the kitchen, extra careful because you don’t want Eren to hear and come out, but as you fill up a glass, your roommate for the night is suddenly leaning against the counter. 

It should be illegal the way he says your name. Sultry and deep and rolling off his tongue without even trying. Eren doesn’t have to change a thing about him to be the very definition of the word erotic, which is coincidentally the only word you can use to describe this encounter. 

He’s forgone the shirt he had on earlier, when you were eating together, and you knew he had put it on just to make sure you didn’t choke on your pizza. Just in those sweatpants again, you could see everything you had tried too hard to avert your gaze from, on display right in front of you. 

“E-Eren,” you stutter out, skin burning again even though it was cold now. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay. What are you taking, there?” You flushed again at the idea of having to tell Eren it was your birth control, because it felt as if he already knew somehow. He watches you with that damn smirk and a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

“It’s ibuprofen.”

“Oh.. ibuprofen, huh? That’s weird, because every time I asked you if you were okay, you said you were fine. Were you lying to me?” His tone is dangerous, somewhere between amused and angry.

You didn’t even realize he had gotten so close to you, until you tried to take another step backwards to put some distance between you two, but you were met by resistance from a cupboard, signifying the end of the wall.

“I-I wasn’t lying, I just forgot-” You hear him click his tongue. He’s dangerously close to you now, you can feel the heat coming off of his body and one more step from him would make you feel the cold breath of his exhales.

“Forgot what, baby? It seems to me that I just caught you in a lie.” Another click of his tongue. “Now, Armin always says you’re a good girl, but I don’t think a good girl would lie to me like you’ve been doing all night, right?”

Armin. The very mention of his name makes something recoil inside your chest, makes you remember how you don’t want to hurt him like this, and how much pain he would be in if he found out about this little interaction between you and Eren.

You try to push back, but Eren extends his arms up, trapping you between them and the cabinet, leaving no way for you to escape. 

“Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?” 

The simple sentence is enough to send your brain, skin, heart on fire, as you let out a breath and find your head nodding up and down. Your body seems to have a mind of its own, wetness seeping from between your folds and no doubt creating a darkened patch on your panties.

“Good girl,” he mewls, dragging out each syllable as he speaks. “I thought I might have to punish you if you kept lying to me, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue anymore. Am I right?” He watches you dumbly nod again, eyes very much blank and just focused on one thing: him. He nods too, mocking your movements and smirking again. “Should we play a game? How about I ask a question, and you have to tell the truth? Sound good?”

Everything’s on fire, and you can’t hear anything besides the thumping of your heart in your chest. Long gone are your inhibitions and desperate hope of a quiet night in with your boyfriend’s roommate.

“First question…” Eren trails off quickly, looking down your body slowly. He takes one hand down from its position of blockading you and brings it to the hem of your—Armin’s—shirt. He plays with it there before continuing his sentence. “What were you thinking about in the shower earlier?”

You feel your breath catch in your throat and a quick flame erupts in your chest at the humiliation you feel—so he had heard you after all. And he interrupted you on purpose.

“You-you were listening? I-” Eren laughs, a low rumble from his chest meeting your ears as you begin to quiver from your position against him. 

“I wasn’t listening so much as you were being loud. It seems to me that you wanted me to hear you, isn’t that right? Or else what kind of a filthy slut would be so loud?” 

You tremble at the name he calls you, not used to sort of degradation Eren is putting you through. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that he’s not wrong, and your behavior is akin to some kind of whore. Maybe you’ve been like this all along, and you just needed the right person to bring it out of you. Your head feels utterly empty and devoid of any more thoughts, and you blank at what to say to Eren next. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you splutter out, feeling incredibly small near Eren, who towers over you. There’s something sadistic in Eren’s gaze, but you notice him soften up at your apology.

“What are you apologizing for?” he questions, quieter than before. He knows the two of you are alone, but he can’t bring himself to raise his voice at you.

You, the bane of his existence, and a blessing all at once. Since the day Armin introduced you to him, there’s been nothing he’s wanted more than for you to meet his gaze and look at him the way you looked at his best friend, with love and adoration. He got a few lucky weeks where you didn’t immediately shy away from his eyes, when he felt like you were challenging him to do something, anything. But it went as soon as it came, and suddenly he was seeing less and less of you. Until this opportunity from Armin’s departure, that is.

“I… I was being a slut,” you whisper back to him, tears lining up at the waterline of your pretty eyes as he moves a hand to your jaw and forces you to look right at him while you speak. You shudder at the touch of his skin on yours, but you don’t want him to stop all the same. 

“That’s okay, baby,” he says in an incredibly reassuring tone that has you wondering what he’ll do next. “I like my girls a little slutty, but just for me, right?” You nod again, quickly. “Besides, I have to make it up to you, you know. I stopped you right when you were getting real close, didn’t I? I could just tell from those pretty noises you were making.” 

The next few moments pass by in a blur, Eren’s arms move and suddenly you’re over his shoulder, ass up and out as the shirt you’re wearing rides up. He delivers a quick slap, making you cry out, as he brings you into the room and lays you on the bed. He’s standing between your legs, a hand on each thigh keeping you spread open for him as he observes closely the impact of his actions on you. 

“You’re just soaking through your panties, aren’t you? Are you really that eager for me?”

You let out a whine, not wanting to answer his question because your face is burning again at the idea of Eren staring so closely at your clothed pussy—and you let out an even higher-pitched squeal when he uses a finger to push your panties aside, and look at your wetness completely. 

“So wet, and so pretty, all for me, huh?”

“Y-yes. All for you,” you let out with a moan, eager for Eren to do something. Anything at all would set you over the edge, with how you’ve been feeling these last few hours. But you think he knows that, because his actions are all teasing you and leaving you wanting more, blindly clenching around nothing at all as his fingers barely graze your clit. He lets out a laugh at your desperate antics, and you’re about to come from the slightest touch, and suddenly you feel the bed moving as Eren wraps his lips around your clit and pushes his tongue against you.

You didn’t even know you could make the noise that you let out, a scream and a cry and carnal moan all wrapped in one. You know Eren thinks the same because he looks up at you from his position between your legs, laughing against your core. The vibration from his laugh makes your legs shake even harder, as you feel Eren’s tongue attacking your clit at an even faster pace. You’re seeing stars and completely unaware of everything else, like how Eren’s nimble hands slid your panties down and tossed them to the side somewhere, landing near the bookshelf, so close to the edge when you feel his fingers teasing at your opening and plunge in without any warning. 

You were completely right about your earlier predictions, feeling Eren quickly add a third finger inside you as you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the obscene noises from leaving your mouth. You do have neighbors, after all, despite how much empty your head feels of every thought besides one; Eren. 

He pulls his mouth away from your sensitive nerves for just a second, just to chastise you before continuing his actions.

“Don’t do that,” he says the words against your lips, “I want to hear you.” 

You weren’t sure it was possible to feel even more pleasure than you were now, but Eren’s words made you feel feral as you let out another loud moan, this time not muffled. You think he calls you a good girl, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. You whine when you feel Eren pull his fingers out of you, suddenly so empty when you had been so full moments ago. You’re trying to collect the words to tell him to keep going, and how this is the second time he’s ruined your finishing, but you just can’t. The only thing that comes out is a mumble of ‘please’ and ‘Eren’ 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not stopping,” he says, pulling himself up and hovering over you. One of his strong arms is by your head, holding himself up as the other hand, the one that had been inside of you, finds its way to your mouth. “Open.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw quickly for him as he shoves the fingers into your hot mouth.

“Suck.” Another command that has you reeling, doing exactly as he wants and swirling your tongue around Eren’s long fingers. They’re coated with your heady wetness, and the taste is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you don’t stop. It feels entirely too dirty and filthy, but you’re willing to do anything to get Eren’s approval now. His words are clear now.

“Good girl. Since you’ve been so good, I think you can cum now.”

His fingers leave your mouth quickly, and he’s fiddling with your hands now, that were previously gripping the sheets so tightly you were scared they might tear. He pulls up your shirt even more, exposing your tits to the cold air of the room, and puts your fingers on your hardened nipples. He doesn’t give a command, but you know it instinctively, that he wants you to play with your nipples while he makes you come. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to follow his orders, but you go ahead anyways. You’re teasing yourself in front of his hungry, wolf-like gaze, as you clench on nothing every time you run your fingers over your sensitive nipples.

Satisfied, he returns back to his position between your legs. You’re crying out before his fingers even reach your wetness, and choke on your moan when he inserts three at once again. You know there’s no way you’ll be able to hold out now, and if he stops again you feel like you might explode into a million pieces. His tongue is rough against your clit, moving in the perfect motion, and one more thrust of his perfect fingers against that spot inside you will have you cumming so hard— Eren speaks against your pussy, a singular word.

“Cum.”

You feel the knot snap in your stomach and your orgasm shakes through you like a bolt of lightning. You hear yourself release a scream before you can stop it, fingers leaving your breasts and grasping onto Eren’s dark strands for dear life, because he hasn’t let up on his actions yet. He keeps going, riding you through it, tongue and mouth continuing on and fingers pumping in and out so quickly that the bedroom is filled with a crude, squelching noise. You’re not sure exactly how loud you were, but your throat is dry and scratchy, and you’re swallowing just to feel some relief. You feel Eren slowly retract his fingers, breathing heavy against the soft skin of your thigh, as you find your way back to reality. You don’t look down at Eren, but you hear him licking his fingers, tasting your wetness in such a sinful manner, you know you can’t look at him do it.

Reality sets in, and you look around your surroundings. Every single one of your senses had been preoccupied with Eren minutes ago, but now that they were free again, you take in the comfortable scent of the sheets and the lingering scent of your slick leaves your thoughts as you take in the familiar scent of old books. Your heartbeat was just returning to normal, when you look around and realize you’re in Armin’s room, on Armin’s bed, as Armin’s best friend gave you the most powerful orgasm of your life. 

You sit up quickly, breathing rapidly as your shirt falls to cover yourself, and you meet Eren’s eyes again.

“Lay back, baby, we’re not done yet.” There’s a haze over your thoughts, and his words, because you want to fight him, and yell and scream at him for bringing you into Armin’s room when you already felt so horrible about what you’ve done, but you can’t summon anything. The only thing you can think about is Eren’s dick, and how it would feel inside you, and how your sensitive walls would take him. So you follow Eren’s orders, and lay back down. Eren hovers over you again, pulling at your shirt, up and over your head, and it lands with a soft thud on the carpet. 

He’s looking at you now, up and down slowly, but different than all the other times. He doesn’t have to rush to take it all in this time, because you’re on display just for him now. So he takes his time, and starts with a soft kiss to the skin right above your heart, wondering if he can hear the hard thuds or if that’s just his imagination. You look at him while he continues his ministrations, wondering why he’s being so slow and careful, because you hadn’t expected this.

His lips work their way up, to your collarbone and then your neck, taking his time to suck on the skin and pepper it with kisses once he hears you hiss in pain. He murmurs an apology against your jaw, before his teeth take your bottom lip between them. He lets go soon after, too eager to feel your lips against his. He’s scared you might pull away, but you don’t. You know you’ve done something terrible, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

He kisses you deeply, tongues finding each other and exchanging that heady taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, your hands finding the side of Eren’s face and trying to push him onto yourself even harder. You’re not sure if you ever want to pull away from Eren’s lips, but he finally does, trying to catch his breath. You look into his green eyes for a moment, and find your own eyes watering. 

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” Eren’s words send you scrambling again, too eager for the fullness you know is inevitable when he finally fucks you.

You feel yourself grabbing for the waistband of his sweats, but Eren’s faster than you. His one hand pins both of yours against your chest, as he clicks his tongue in that obnoxious way again.

“Patience. Only patient girls get daddy’s cock.” You want to scream at him about how patient you’ve been, all this time and all of tonight, but you bite your tongue. You don’t need Eren’s punishment on top of the torture he’s put you through already. 

You let go of your resistance and watch with wide eyes as he removes the only thing that was in your way. His erect dick snaps up against his stomach once it’s freed, and you swallow without thinking, looking at the sheer size of him. He’s just as big as you had imagined, the tip a pretty, dark pink with white beads of pre-cum gathered at the top, and every vein causing you to descend further and further into a wanton state. It’s his thickness that you weren’t prepared for. If three of his fingers were such a tight stretch, you can only imagine what this would do to you. But at the same time, you think you might die if Eren doesn’t fuck you right now. 

He watches with that damn smirk as you stare at his dick with more eagerness than he’s ever seen before. He holds his length in his hand, directing himself to your entrance but not pushing in. He holds himself there, running his dick over your folds and almost succumbing to the inviting wetness of your cunt, but he stops himself. 

“Do you want my cock, baby?” Another surge of heat rushes through your body, feeling almost light-headed at how difficult he’s making this. But you weren’t about to start misbehaving now.

“Y-yes, yes, Eren, please-” You hiccup out, feeling yourself lose the battle against your watery eyes, as the tears roll down your face. “Please, I want it so badly, please, please, please—Oh!” 

Eren pushes in without any warning, watery eyes being his own breaking point. He could have finished on the spot seeing you cry begging for his dick, and he was determined to make you cum again before then. The noises you’re making are incredibly obscene, and he knows you’re being loud enough to notify the entire floor, but he’s not going to stop you. He’s only about half way in, but he wants to be nice and let you adjust to him.

“P-please, Eren, please-” You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging Eren for. A part of you doesn’t think it’s possible to feel more full, and another part of you wants Eren to fuck you so hard you forget everything and everyone. 

He’s about to chastise you again to be patient, and let you know that he’s doing this for you, not him, but he realizes his actions are louder than his words. With another thrust, he pushes his entire length in you. You moan again, this time with a breathy gasp, and he can’t help the smile on his face. You look so pretty crying, trying to take his entire dick and struggling immensely.

He thrusts slowly, wanting to make it last and make you feel every last vein of dick deep inside you, but the way your tight cunt grips him has him speeding up before he can help it. The noises filling Armin’s room are beyond lecherous, as the only sounds are of his tightening balls smacking against your skin with every deep thrust, and the lewd noise of your wetness taking him. 

He’s got you on your back, sitting up between your thighs and one leg hoisted on his shoulder, and thrusting so hard you can feel his hip-bone bruising your skin. There’s only one thought left in your head, and that’s how good Eren feels inside you. The aching burn of his initial assault is long gone, leaving just the feeling of Eren filling you up. Your hands remember his earlier order and find their way to your hardened nipples again, pinching and teasing, putting on a show for Eren as he moans loudly. Every noise he makes goes straight to your core, making you clench around him harder than before.

His lithe fingers find your clit again, and you throw your head back and moan even louder at the feeling. You were so, so sensitive already and this was the last straw. One more of Eren’s thrusts, hitting that special spot inside you, and one more touch of his fingers on your clit sent you screaming to your second orgasm. You were clenching tightly, as Eren worked you through it again and kept his thrusts going. You were seeing black, screaming his name and God knows what else, as you came and waves of pleasure washed over you and heat radiated from your head to your toes.

Eren’s continued thrusts kept going, even after your pussy tightened around him. You were out of breath and sweaty, and you felt Eren’s hips stutter as he leaned forwards and found your hot mouth again. You were kissing again, his lips on yours as you swallowed his moans and grabbed his arms to steady yourself. With another rapid succession of thrusts, Eren moved his lips to your neck and groaned loudly as he came inside you. You felt the hot ropes of his cum deep inside your pussy, as he kept going and going, eventually pulling out of you with a heady moan. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and onto Armin’s sheets, as you laid incredibly still beside Eren, both of you trying to catch your breath. You were ashamed to look Eren in the eyes, avoiding his gaze still as you felt your heart rate return somewhat back to normal. 

“Hey,” was all he said, breathlessly, and with a deep look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “Are you okay?” 

He straightened himself up, leaning against the bed frame and opening his arms in an inviting manner. You wanted nothing more than to avoid his touch, but you felt the exhaustion in your limbs and you convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being held by him for a few minutes. You leaned against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling up the covers to shield you both from the cold air. You were content to fall asleep right here, every sense of yours taken up by Eren, but you couldn’t just yet. 

“What are we going to tell Armin?” you breathed out dejectedly. It was the one thought that was plaguing your mind, the one thought stopping you from being happy and peaceful beside Eren tonight. 

“Oh, baby. You’re acting like this entire thing this wasn’t his idea.”

...

thanks for reading! part two with armin, anyone?

[jeagerism]

heaven (it’s calling my name)

✒ word count : 7.1k

✒ characters : eren yeager x reader

✒ explicit warnings : smut, like graphic shit i’ve never written, u give eren brain (a blowjob), yes ppl call giving head giving brain, eren repays the favor, i think he choke u a little at one point, consensual sex bc we fuck heavy with that, eren wraps it b4 he taps it, he’s respectful and hot

✒ warnings : modern!au bc canonverse eren makes me sad, eren is the definition of "cold boyfriend who’s only soft around you", except he’s kinda not ur boyfriend, oh god, he calls you teach a lot, and sweet thing and pretty thing he just thinks ur an object, im joking, he’s really bad at history, eren is a little shit, he majors in criminal justice bc one day levi mentioned he’d be good at it, and eren looks up to levi cry cry cry, oh yeah it’s a college!au too bc eren would...be in col….my heart hurts, im down bad for a yt man

✒ summary : Eren’s an annoying type of pretty. The type of pretty that hurts to ignore.

✒ notes : fuck u mechelle, even tho u wont see this

You’re quite sure that you’re five minutes away from leaving Eren Yeager to lie in the mess he’s made for himself.

Sliding your notebook away from you on the library table, you sigh through your nose, pulling your phone from your pocket to check the time. The giant numbers on your screen are a cruel reminder that you’ve been waiting for Eren for going on thirty minutes now, going between sending him warning texts to cursing Erwin out in the shared group chat between him, yourself, and Levi. The passing time only makes you more and more agitated, watching the water droplets drip down the stupid drink you’d brought for him when you’d arrived earlier. 

A part of you curses yourself for deciding to take up tutoring him in the first place. 

Which isn’t to say you had a problem with Eren Yeager, at least not always. You’d see him fairly often before starting these weekly sessions, given the fact the two of you ran in overlapping social circles. You see him at parties, and game nights, and even the soccer games Levi always asks you to show up to. Some part of him just made you want to pull your hair out, from the way he fought with Jean at every social gathering, to the way you'd been forced to sit next to him during every spring break trip since you'd started college.

He was always too loud, too jumpy, too much.

Nevermind the fact that he looked terribly attractive most days, or that he was always the one to get everyone home safe if they drank too much, or that he’d bugged Erwin for his soup recipe because Armin had gotten sick one week.

He also never showed up to his lectures, and would always ruthlessly bicker with Jean whenever they were in the same room. You don’t think he’s ever been on time to anything your friends have invited him to.

Or to the study sessions he’d gotten Erwin to beg you for, you think. Dropping your head forward against the uncomfortable wood of the table, you release a quiet groan.

"How am I supposed to help him when he doesn’t try in the first place?", you’d sighed to Erwin. "He barely shows up for his own classes—which, may I add, he wouldn’t need a tutor for if he did—so what makes you think he’s going to come to a tutoring session with me?"

Every part of you is aching from spending so long cramped into the material of your chair. Brushing your shoes against the bag by your foot, you begin shuffling the papers strewn across the table into a neat pile, gathering your different colored folders together. Papers you’d spent forever printing out for Eren, because he’d complained about getting so many things mixed up. Folders that Eren had teased you for relentlessly during your first few times together, something about "history being white and not orange".

Just as you’re standing to swing your backpack over your shoulder, hurried footsteps meet your ears, a hand slamming itself down atop the table in front of you.

"I’m here." 

Rolling your shoulders back, you give the boy in front of you an unimpressed look. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry that he’s missed the crucial time you’ve been giving up for him, pale grey eyes trained directly on the hand you’ve got on your bag. Your eyes drag down his figure, across the hair that’s gathered at the back of his neck, run down sneakers and withering brown hair ties circling his wrist.

Your words come out in a flurry, "I have been waiting for you for so long that I finished an entire essay, Eren. I had other things to do today, things that could’ve been done if—"

Eren cuts you off, plopping himself down in the seat adjacent from yours. He gets to work pulling out a notebook from his backpack, scrawled writing labeling it for history. The straps from his bag are tattered, some parts held together by mere threads. You never comment on this, because you know the only reason he has one at all is because Armin had bought it for him as a Christmas present awhile back. His hands, ivory and gaunt, flip the pages over until he’s seemingly satisfied with where it stops, and he glances back up at you, waiting and calm.

"C’mon, Teach," he drawls, nodding his head for you to retake your seat, "don’t got all day. You’ve got other things to do, remember."

Something about the way he talks to you makes you want to strangle him, and shut him up, and everything in between. He doesn’t make any other moves than that, lips set in a straight line, seemingly uninterested in whatever you’re going to say next, as if he knows you’re not going to leave.

This is your fifth studying session you’ve had with him, and he’d been late for the first, and the second, and now this one as well. You’re doing this for Erwin, you remind yourself, and also because the sooner you helped him pass, the sooner he’d be out of your hair. 

As frustratingly captivating as Eren was, he also annoyed you to no end, and you know there were plenty of others that would agree with you.

However, the idea of getting up and leaving him here puts an uneasy feeling in your stomach that you don’t like.

So, with a baited breath, you drop back down into your seat, ignoring the corner of Eren’s mouth lifting when you say, "I thought I told you not to call me that, stupid."

Ignoring your comment, the brunette scribbles a circle onto the edge of his paper, humming as he waits for you to push your folder over to him. You do, tapping your finger against the page to guide him. He begins working silently, flipping pages in between bouts of silence while you wait for when he’ll need you.

After a few minutes, he looks up from the folder halfway, head still bowed the tiniest bit. "Thanks," he utters, refocusing after nodding his head to himself. 

Your face feels warm when you look away.

The following few weeks after that are better.

Despite endless warnings, he still shows up late, but the time gets less and less with every tutoring session you have. He shows up with his things all organized, and he even brings you bottles of water instead of the abnormal amount of Kickstart he always had with him. You almost think it's his way of making up for the tardiness. You almost want to kiss him for it. That realization has you cutting one of your meetings short, letting Eren and his confused look make his way home without the normal amount of work you send him off with.

During another Saturday evening spent pouring over books, nestled into the corner of the couch in your shared apartment with Levi and Erwin, you watch Eren with a curious stare. He’s got a pencil twirling in between his fingers, rambling on about some part of his lecture that he didn’t understand earlier today. His legs are clad in the stupidly soft sweats he’d stolen from Erwin months ago, a price for carting him back home after he’d puked on the younger’s clothes. He’s buried in the old mathletes sweater he’d coveted for ages, and his long hair is tied up in his same overly messy bun, select strands tailing out every which way; curling around the nape of his neck, hanging in front of his eyes.

"Teach?"

"Hm?"

Eren waves his hand in front of you, skinny fingers passing in front of your vision once more before he lets them drop back down to hit his lap. "Zoning out on me again?" The candle burning on the corner of your entertainment stand casts flickering shadows across his face, silhouettes dancing across the bridge of his nose, the height of his cheek. "Terrible instructing method if you ask me." He gives you a boyish grin from his side of the couch. "Don’t know how we’ve made it this far with that."

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest. "I don’t know how anyone else puts up with you." 

"You do, don’t you," he calls, and he’s not smiling anymore, simply observing the squinted eyes you give him. The upward motion of his eyebrows draws his lips into a tiny pout. "What, not up for admitting your crush on me, yet?"

"Shut up," the slight shake in your voice must not be noticeable, and if it is he makes no note of it, chuckling and leaning his head back into the cushions of the couch. 

"Listen this time, yeah? Otherwise someone might think there’s not a thought inside that pretty head." He starts back on his babbling of topics he’d found difficult, tossing in little jabs at his professor, about how stupid Jean had looked when he’d passed him on his way back to your apartment. 

A part of you thinks it's to keep you on your toes. Another thinks it's just an effort to get you to smile.

And you do. Because his teasing words weren’t as far off than he may have thought.

Eren has a maddening habit of messing with you to distract from the work he’s supposed to do, prying embarrassment from the center of your soul in order to achieve breaks from the endless studying he needs to pass his final.

Said finals are tomorrow, which gave you plenty of reason to show up at his door hours before, arms full of material he’d need to remember if he’d intended to pass. He’d let you in with a heavy sigh, body pressed against the front door as you slid past him, eyes taking in the warm beige of the interior. Something you were sure Armin and Mikasa had managed alone, seeing as Eren’s entire color palette consisted of blacks and the occasional splash of white and blue. 

He leads you past the living room, where Jean is stuffing his phone into his pocket next to Mikasa, who’s slipping on her shoes. She gives you a nod as you slip off your own, and Jean does as well, before his eyes are snatched away by Eren’s hand, extended with his middle finger poised towards the boy, slight smile offered along with his crude gesture. He keeps it faced towards him all the way until the two of you disappear around the corner, concealed by the hallway walls. 

"You didn’t have to do that," you murmur, kissing your teeth with a shove of your shoulder into his. Eren shrugs, uncaring as he twists the doorknob of his room, pushing his door open for you to step into his room. The front door closes as you do, and you look back at him in question.

"They’re going to some bullshit soccer game." He’s gone to every bullshit soccer game this season.

Laughing, you plop down on the edge of his bed, laying the armful of study material down onto his bed; you jerk your head towards where his history textbook rests on his bedside table. Seeming to get the memo, he hefts it into his arms, scooting up to the headboard of his bed. He gestures for you to do the same, watching your form as you lean back into the wall, sorting things as you normally did for your meetings. "Well, when you pass, we can go to the next. If it’s not too bullshit for you."

He doesn’t respond, and when you look back up his eyes are already on you. 

"We could?" You nod, humming. "Like, you and me?" 

"Yes, Eren," you reassure, growing increasingly warm at the devoted attention he has on you. "Wouldn’t mind if you wouldn’t. Plus, imagine how many girls in your chemistry class would be jealous that Eren Yeager is going to the football game with someone that isn’t them."

A quiet noise of disbelief falls from his lips, "You play off as shy a lot for someone who makes jokes like that." Another mumble comes from his direction, muffled by the hand he passes over his mouth. 

"What?"

He bumps his knee into yours, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Ah, yeah right," you protest, slapping his thigh with the orange folder grasped in your hand. "What’d you say?" Again, he shakes his head, moving his head to see in front of you. "Eren." You move in front of his line of sight, lips pouting at him. "Just—"

Reaching out with a frustrated sigh, Eren’s hand cups your jaw, stopping you in your place. His washed out eyes meet yours, unwavering as he keeps you in position. "I said," he voices, not even pausing to blink, "what if I don’t want to go with anyone else?" His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek, soft and slow, his face moving closer to yours bit by bit. "You’re pretty," he whispers. There’s so little space between the two of you that you’re sharing the same breath; the little wisps of hair gathered at the front of his face tickle your own, and his nose nudges yours when he speaks next.

"Not so forward now, hm?"

And it’s hot. The air, his hand where it rests against the underside of your jaw, the way his eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes before they lower again. It’s suffocating, and you’re sure that any longer here, with him, will only make the next few weeks even more complicated than being in his presence did in the first place. There’s a numerous number of reasons why letting Eren get this close is wrong, nearly fatal. 

Which is why you pull away. There’s a surprised glaze that passes through his eyes before he’s back to his normal, dead stare. Goosebumps rise on your skin.

"I should, uh, go? We can, like, study more later. At the library, or the campus coffee shop, just not..." Not here. Pushing your hair behind your ears with a deep exhale, you gather your jacket and bag into your hands from the corner of his bed. You eye the colored folders sprawled beside him, but they’re too close to him for you to even consider going back for them. You could always ask for him to bring them to you later. In public. Where it wouldn’t just be the two of you, alone.

Eren Yeager is collateral damage. You know this. He’s failing a couple classes, he never showed up for those classes, hell, he’d even ditched your first studying session without a word to you. You’re astoundingly aware of it all.

Your feet tingle where they meet the floor, and you’re about to stand when he calls out to you.

"Where are you going?"

"Home?" You turn your head to face him, eyebrows raised in question. He’s got one of those stupid pens in his hands, twirling it around with a disinterested gaze that almost made him seem bored of you.

"Who said you could go? You’re staying."

"Why?"

Whatever resolve you have to leave him here clings desperately to the forefront of your mind. He leans back, back meeting the wooden headboard of his obnoxiously comfortable bed, eyes barely open, yet you know for a fact he’s watching you anyways. And as he opens his mouth, lips tilted up at the corners like he knows something you don’t, you can feel that resolve slipping through your fingers like water.

"To help me out."

"Eren."

His head tilts to the side, gesturing for you to move forward. "Help with school, Teach." His voice sounds teasing, eyebrows raising. "That test is tomorrow, so unless you’re planning on teaching me on the way, you’re staying." Tapping his finger against the textbook now open across his thighs—when the hell had he done that?—he sighs at the squinty eyed look you’re giving him. "I can call Armin if you don’t want to." And then, quieter, he says, "And I won’t try and kiss you again."

I’m not sure if I want that, you think. What comes from your mouth is different, more practical, controlled. "Yeah?" 

"Scouts honor," he swears, shrugging his shoulders, finger still prodded into the pages of his book. The comforter is soft underneath your fingers when you sit back, scooting back up beside him. Once your back meets the headboard, orange folder in hand, you nod your head. After a few seconds of silence between you, other than the sounds of shuffling paper and humming, another quiet murmur comes from his way. "Not unless you want me to."

"Eren!"

"Chill, I’m ki—I’m just kidding!"

"This is bullshit."

It’s the fourth time Eren’s said that in the last thirty minutes, becoming increasingly more annoyed with the information presented to him with every minute that passes. You can’t blame him though. He’d worked silently beside you for another four hours after your almost kiss, other than the times he’d ask you about something he’d read or check to see if he’d gotten an answer right. And even your hands were cramping up from writing corrections on his fake tests, the words swimming on the paper.

"You're almost done," you comment, pen scratching against the paper with every letter you write, "here—you even got most of the questions right on this." You toss the stapled bunch of papers over to his side of the bed, the two of you having migrated to different spots during your endless working. The papers hit the bed just beside his knee. 

Eren eyes them with quiet disdain, but picks them up anyways, scanning the words for less than a second before he lets it fall back onto the mattress. Despite his attempted disinterest, you catch a glimpse of a small smile when he looks back down at the textbook in his hands. 

"Does that mean we can take a break?" He reaches up, hands clasping above his head to stretch. A soft groan escapes, eyes closing. He looks tired, you notice, strands of unkempt hair invading his face, mouth set in a tiny grimace. "I’m tired of reading about old people and the Mediterranean Society—"

"Mesopotamian," you correct, but he’s already sliding off of the bed, your words falling on deaf ears. He stretches again once he stands, his shirt rising to expose pale, silky looking skin. Checking the time on your phone, you hum in thought. "Fifteen minutes. Then we go back to working. If we work fast enough, we could be done in...an hour?" 

Nodding his head, Eren brings a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Be back in a second. Want anythin’?" His eyes pass over you while you shake your head, washed out grey feeling like needles on your skin. He passes through his door without another word, pulling it closed gently behind him.

Sighing, you lean your head against the wall, flexing your hands to work out the cramps. You’ve been writing for hours, either correcting Eren’s mistakes, writing out guides for what he needed more work on, or the piles of work you’d needed to work through on your own. You close your eyes, waiting for Eren’s return while still wringing your hands out.

"Falling asleep on me already, Teach?"

Said boy plops down on his bed, resuming his previous position. He’s got two bottles of water in his hand, one of which he holds out to you. He eyeballs the way you rub your hands after accepting it, still attempting to remove the kinks. 

"No, sorry, just ready to get this over with." Grabbing your pen from where it lays between the folder in your lap. "Ready to—what’re you—" Eren pulls the pen from your hand, tossing it to the table beside his bed, where it rattles before rolling and hitting the floor. "Hey," you whine, eyebrows furrowed at him.

He envelopes one of your hands in his, holding it stationary before slowly beginning to knead his fingers into the muscles in your hand. 

"You kept wincing every time you wrote something down earlier," he explains, not bothering to look up to see your reaction. You’re almost thankful for that, widened eyes trained on his face, then where his hands are holding yours. "And seeing as it's kind of my fault you’re doing all this anyway, figured I should do something to help." He continues massaging your hand, switching to the other not soon after. 

Still watching him, you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. "Why do you even take history anyways? You hate it. And you’re...not very good at it. No offense."

His gaze travels back up to yours at your words, seemingly unamused at your jab. "Shut up," he replies. Scooting even closer towards your spot against the wall, he huffs. "I forgot to sign up until the last day sign ups were going on. Accidentally checked off the class and now here I am." He shrugs, and stops massaging your hands. However, he doesn’t let them go, holding them in his hands, resting on your legs. "It’s a Gen Ed course, so I was gonna have to take it eventually anyways."

Eren’s eyes on yours make you realize that you’re just sitting here, too distracted by holding his hand and hearing him speak softly instead of finishing what you need to do now. 

"We should really go back to studying. Got alot more to do."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do we?"

"You’ve got a final in fifteen hours and we still have so much to go through." You suck in a breath, releasing it slow and steady, shoulders relaxing.

His grasp slides up from his hands to just below your elbow, hold light. "Hey, Teach?"

"Hm?"

"Can I try something else instead?"

Your heart jumps in your chest, and even though you know what he’s going to do, you nod your head anyways. Even though you’d been hesitant about it before, you want him to kiss you anyways.  

And I won’t try and kiss you again. Not unless you want me to.

"Yeah," you whisper, already leaning towards him. 

He pulls you in by his hold on your arm, a little too fast, chest knocking into his with a shallow breath. He kisses you with fervor, his lips fitting against your own. You move forward again, Eren’s head tilting back to accommodate the decrease of space. Rising onto your knees, you slide your way onto his lap. The crinkle of paper meets your ears, and you disconnect your lips as you look towards where the noise came from. Eren groans in annoyance, snatching the few stray papers and folders within his reach up, and tossing them over the side of his bed. He even shoves his history book to the floor, hitting the carpet with a loud thump. 

"There," he grits out, pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth. "Now stop worrying about the stupid work and—"

"Can I suck you off?" 

The words have him freezing in his pot, lips still working around the middle of his sentence. Splotches of pink begin flooding his face, and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck with a muttered curse. "You can’t just say things like that, you know." The steady stream of air from his breathing makes you shiver, hands steady on his shoulders, fingers smoothing over the muscles of his shoulders underneath his shirt. His cheek is warm against your shoulder, and a small part of you revels in the glory of making him flustered. "Not after how much I," Eren breathes, lips skimming over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"How much you...?"

Slowly, Eren removes his face from its hiding spot, pulling back with baby pink cheeks. "How much I’ve wanted you before. How much I want you now." His fingers trace shapes into your sides, and for once you think you see something other than disinterest in his eyes. "Pretty hard not to notice someone like you, Teach."

Surging forwards, you connect your lips with his again, messy and all teeth and tongue. His mouth is warm against yours, nipping at your bottom lip for access, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You pull back, huffing at the way his lips chase yours. Sliding back off of his lap, you push your knees into the soft mattress, sitting pretty and quiet before him.

You’re pretty sure you’re way too far in to be embarrassed now, what with you asking to give him a blowjob a mere two minutes ago. But when he’s looking at you like this, watching you through lidded eyes, you’re still, the prickling feeling of self consciousness hot on the back of your neck.

"Getting all shy on me again?", Eren murmurs, eyes low and dark. The intensity of his gaze makes your stomach clench in anticipation. 

Breathing in to try to calm your trembling hands, your hands reach for the strings of his sweats, pulling them undone with bated breaths. You tug the fabric down enough to reach inside his boxers, pulling the length of his dick free. Hesitant, you wet your lips, eyes locked onto the path of veins that stretch to the underside of his cock.

"Hey", Eren breathes, sliding his hand along the underside of your jaw, soft as he tilts your head to face him. "We stop anytime you say so, yeah?"

You nod, humming despite the part of your brain telling you not to embarrass yourself. You brush your fingers over the pretty head of his length, excitement racing through you at the muffled groan he releases. A quiet hiss escapes Eren, hands twitching at his sides, fisted into the grey sheets. He’s hard when you take him into your hand, barely grasping it with your hand loosely wrapped around the base. 

"You can grip it tighter than that you know," he murmurs, head tilted to the side, cold eyes taking in every movement you make, "you’re not gonna hurt me, pretty thing."

Heat spreads from the back of your neck to your cheeks. "Okay, uh, yeah, I..." You readjust the hold you have on his cock, wide eyes jumping back up to meet his at the groan that rumbles from his throat. "I don’t wanna be bad at it." 

"Bad?", Eren exhales, watching as your hand begins stroking up and down the length of his dick, hips stuttering, pushing it even further into the warmth of your hand. Swallowing, his next words are choked out, "I don’t think you could be bad at this if you tried." He settles even further back, watching as your pretty hand works his cock up and down. 

You give a few more experimental pumps of your fist, drinking in every moan and twitch. Beads of pre cum drip down from the tip, following a  direct path down until they meet your fist, adding lubricant to the steady stroking of his cock. When you look back at him, eager to commit the moment—the moment you made Eren Yeager helpless—to memory, your heart jumps in your chest at the sight before you.

Eren’s eyes are still on you, just barely able to see from the lazy drooping of his eyes due to the pleasure. God, he’s stupidly fucking pretty. The type of pretty that makes you angry; but also the type of pretty that makes it easy to move forward, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. "Shit, you’re..." It takes almost everything in you to continue instead of getting lost at how good he looks like this—head tossed back against his headboard, small whines and breathless praises thrown into the air between you. "Oh, fuck, you can...yeah, like...like that. You’re so good." You swirl your tongue around the tip, taking as much of him as you can, jerking what you can’t fit in your mouth with your fist. 

"Hey, shit." The hand cupping your cheek guides you backwards, lips disconnecting from the head of his cock with a soft pop. A string of spit connects your lips to the tip, catching the light from his bedside table. "Pretty," Eren whispers, thumb swiping over the mess of spit and pre cum that covers your chin. He drags it across your bottom lip, gathering it and dipping the finger back into your mouth. Lips closing around it, you pause at his unblinking stare, before hesitantly swirling your tongue around his thumb like you’d done to his cock; another deep groan comes from the swell of his throat. "You’re killing me, Teach."

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his firm grasp on your chin keeping you pulled against him. He moves you backwards enough for your elbows to meet the mattress underneath you, back falling against it soon after. From above you, Eren looks ethereal, lips puffy, cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted pink. He abandons his hold on your chin for placing his hand beside your head, caging you in between both arms. "Wouldn’t mind seeing you like this more often."

Dipping back down to you, his nose bumps into yours as he reaches down, palm sliding across the expanse of your thigh, pulling it to rest against his hip. His fingers stroke the skin, soft hum reverberating from him. 

"You’re so soft."

Your head is mush at the feeling of his hands all over you, lips smoothing over every patch of skin they can find. His hand travels from its place on your thigh, fingers teasing the edge of your hip, trailing up and around your navel, and over the fabric covering your chest before he rests it against your throat. His fingers leave a pleasant weight at the base, just barely enough pressure to know they’re there. Eren’s hair falls in a curtain around him as he presses his mouth to your own, wanting and desperate. "Want me to touch you, pretty thing?" 

He gives your throat a final squeeze before abandoning it in favor of tracing his hand over the area where your thighs meet, teasing his fingers over the space between them. "Want me here?" 

"Please," a whimper accompanies the forward grind of your hips against his hand, something that has him chuckling. You’re too desperate to be embarrassed, eyes stinging with tears. "Please." 

Eren presses another opened mouth kiss to your lips, before trailing down, peppering kisses across your neck. He continues his journey down, pausing in between to mark soft spots of skin, temporary tattoos that resemble his desire, until he’s resting his cheek against your inner thigh. Glancing up, Eren’s lips lift upwards in the tiniest of smiles. The strands of hair framing his face tickle. "Still okay?"

Nodding, your chin brushes your chest when you meet his gaze. "Yeah, just," an exhale, "want more." A few beats pass, eyes darting back and forth between him and the grip he has on your thigh. "Please."

He huffs out a laugh. "Since you asked so nicely." Tapping against the side of your hip, Eren loops his fingers through the band of your shorts. "Up." At his command, you lift your hips from the bed, letting him tug the shorts and underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. The first touch of his fingers against your core makes you cry out; he tugs your thighs open further, your cunt open to his fingers completely. His fingers dive between your folds, welcomed to the wetness gathered there. Another lewd whimper falls from your pouted lips.

"You’re so noisy," he scolds, thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit, tutting when another stuttering moan comes from your mouth. The hand that’s not making a mess of you is clutching the skin of your thigh, keeping it pressed into his mattress. "Barely even done anythin’, and you’re this loud." His hand cups your dripping cunt, middle finger sliding between your folds with ease. "You sound so pretty though, don’t you?" Eyes fluttering shut, you drag your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself, hips pushing themselves against his touch. "Ah, eyes open, sweetheart." Your thighs twitch ever slightly, hole clenching and sending a fresh wave of arousal to meet Eren’s fingers. 

"Can’t," you whine, voice cracking. His fingers slip even closer to your entrance, making you clench around nothing, desperate for something. Your head drops back even further as the brunette sinks two digits into your little hole, hips attempting to arch off the mattress. "E-Eren!" 

"You can’t," he repeats, working his fingers inside of you with a disapproving hum. "Baby’s gone stupid over my fingers already, hm?" A short cry is given as his answer, whining as his fingers slip out from inside of you, leaving your core empty once more. Another few seconds pass before something hot fans out against your swollen cunt. "Gonna let me make you cum, sweetheart?" 

You nod hurriedly, your hips canting into the air, only for them to be pushed back down. 

"Use your words, sweet thing. Not too fucked out that you can’t tell me what you want, are you?" Wet fingers scale your side, all the way up to your chest, where he cups your breast through the material of your shirt, swiping his thumb over the cup of your bra. "Wanna come, yeah?" 

"Y-Yes, Eren, please make me come, I—" Fisting the cotton material of his blanket, your head dips even further back into the mattress. 

Chuckling, Eren’s hold on you tightens, and he pulls you closer to him, nose brushing the inside of your thigh. "Don’t worry, pretty baby," he drawls, teeth nipping at the inside of your thighs, "I’ll make you come." Eren’s tongue flattens against your slit, pulling a long, drawn out whine from your throat. He’s got his forearms wrapped securely under your legs, mouth pressed perfectly against your core. His tongue traces circles against your clit, before sucking the bud into his mouth.

He’s cocky enough without you shouting his name like a prayer, but you can feel the rumble of his words as much as you hear them when he says, "Fucked so stupid all you can think of is me, huh?" His tongue dips below to lap at your juices before dragging up to tongue at your clit; you keen, chest heaving. You let go of your grip on the sheets, hand clumsily travelling towards where his is wrapped around your thigh. He flips his hand over, palm up to meet yours, fingers tangling together when you slide your hand into his. His touch is grounding, fingertips tingling where they press against his own. "Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this; wanna do this every day. You’re so wet, so pretty, aren’t you? Just for me?"

"Yes," you choke out, tightening your hold on his hand, squeezing it harder and harder, "it’s all for you, Eren, o-only for you."

"Good," he calls, fingers joining his ruinous descent of your cunt, swiping through the wet mix of spit and cum, stroking up your slit. Eren tucks two fingers into your entrance, pausing once they’re knuckle deep, seated within the warm, wet walls of your cunt. "Gonna make you come, yeah?" He starts on your core with a newfound pace, fucking you with his fingers eagerly. His tongue dances over your clit, adding fuel to the loud squelching made every time his fingers sink back into your cunt.  

Your juices coat his fingers entirely, making it easy to slip them in and out of your tight hole. Your core feels full, stuffed with his fingers, entrance stretched by the scissoring motion of the slick digits. Lewd moans and whimpers fall left and right from your pretty mouth, mixed in with shouts of his name, begs for more. A wave of pleasure crashes through you, stomach clenching tight, your cunt clamping down on his fingers. "E-Ere—" The boy between your legs takes one last lick against your messy slit before you fall apart, body shaking underneath his hold. Legs attempting to close around his head, Eren pushes them back down, greedily lapping at the cum gushing out of your sweet cunt.

By the time your breathing has returned to normal, he’s pressing his lips against the inside of your thigh. Your hand is clutching his in a death grip still, to which you blink bearily at him, lower half still tingling from the aftereffects of your orgasm. Eren lifts himself from between your legs, trailing open mouthed kisses up the base of your stomach, pushing the material of your shirt up to make room as he goes. He stops just below your breasts, biting a final kiss there. "Still good?" 

Nodding shallowly, your hands tangle into his hair, pulling his face down to your level. His eyes stare through you, pale grey making your core clench around nothing once more. "Think you’re pretty, too," you murmur into the space between you. He pulls back with a short laugh, stretching his arm to pinch the hem of his shirt between his fingers. Quickly, he pulls the offending material up and over his head, throwing it to the other side of the bed. His eyes scan the bedside table to his right; it gives you a chance to ogle at the bare skin before you, contracting with each inhale and exhale. Reaching down, Eren opens the drawer, rifling through the contents before coming back with a square foil packet between his ring and middle finger. 

Bringing the packet to his mouth, his teeth rip into the side, dragging the excess away. He works the condom out of the packaging, letting the wrapper fall to the floor beside his bed. Rolling the condom over the head of his cock, Eren continues until it’s resting at the base.

"You would be the type of guy to have condoms in your bedside table."

Scoffing, he drags you closer by your ankles, slipping his hold up underneath your knees to slot himself between your legs. "I got them for you."

"Who said you would’ve ever gotten to use them?", you laugh.

Eren grips the base of his cock, sliding it through your folds. "Guess I don’t have to worry about that now, do I?" He looks as good as he always does, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes trained on the place where your bodies meet. Letting your slick coat his cock, he pushes his hips forwards, tip prodding at your entrance with a choked moan. The head of his dick sinks into your heat with ease, your last orgasm making your walls take him in with no problem. 

"Look at you, pretty thing," he growls out, "taking my cock so well." He doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against yours, pelvis brushing against your abused clit. Eren rolls his hips, his dick sliding from back from your hole, before being sucked back into your greedy cunt. Your nails dig into the bed, letting out stammered whines and pitched mewls as he fucks into you. His cock brushes your sweet spot, drawing a near pornographic moan from your mouth. "Such a perfect little cunt, taking me like I was made for you." He taps his finger against your clit, rubbing the swollen nub in fast, circular motions. 

"So...So good, Eren, I..." you cry out, mouth agape, legs beginning to tremble with pleasure. Your cunt leaks steady onto his cock, soaking his length with your juices. Clenching around him, your cheeks warm at the moan that Eren gives. His pace becomes rushed, pounding against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars over and over again. The delicious drag of his cock against your warm walls makes you crazy, body jerking with every sharp thrust into your pulsing cunt. The pitch of your cries is so loud Eren smushes his thumb against your lips. And without thought, you take his thumb into your mouth, velvet tongue encasing the digit.

A growl slips from his mouth, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Each moan that you release vibrates against his thumb, serving towards his hips snapping against your pelvis harder, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating throughout the room. "Come," he commands, cock setting a bruising pace against your slit. "Come around my cock, pretty thing."

His words have you keening around his thumb, your body going into overdrive at the sparks of pleasure that shoot through your entire body. Eren continues his short thrusts into your cunt, panting before he goes still, a pleasant, unfamiliar warmth invading your walls. He goes still over you, releasing one final, drawn out choked groan. After a moment, he removes his thumb from where it's resting against your tongue, his cock slipping out from your wet hole, and collapses beside you with a short exhale. Eren wraps an arm around the front of your waist, laying it there for a second, still, before pulling you into his side. You rest your cheek against his chest, body still buzzing. 

Once your breathing returns to normal, feeling returning in your legs, you wet your lips with a laugh. "We never finished reading the rest of the material, you know."

Eren’s chest shakes underneath your head, cheek vibrating with the deep rumble. "Fuck Mesopotamia, Teach." He walks his fingers down your arm, all the way down until he’s lacing his fingers with yours. "But we could always do some more studying."

You hum, even though your eyes are practically already closed, body feeling heavy and warm. You’re leaning into him more, nearly half asleep when another rumble pulsates against your cheek.

"Sure I’d remember anything if your study methods are jumping me." 

You’re walking back home from your final class days later when your phone buzzes in your hand. Unlocking it, your eyes zero in on the notification on the screen. It’s from Eren, and your lips tilt up gently into a smile. 

He passed his final with an eighty-nine.