#i hope this satisfies your holiday wishes! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 1 year ago

Text

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

1K notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 3 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Baby

Summary - You being a busy little bee won't stop your husband from celebrating your birthday

Warnings - None

A/N - Backtracking through my masterlists I had planned and this little drabble ended up happening. I promise, my dear friends, I will post everything I've promised. I have a 5 day weekend coming so I can get all my edits done ❤️

🎂2024 Birthday Masterlist🎂

✨️Azriel Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Peep @firefly-graphics for some ultra cute Dividers! So many options and fandoms.

Azriel stood in darkness, a single candle on a single cupcake. He was waiting in anticipation as the clock ticked slowly. You would be home soon after accomplishing a life goal.

Opening day had taken over your life, but you were officially the proud owner of the only bookstore in Velaris that had a coffee shop and bakery inside of it. You had a variety of seating and plenty of space, allowing a quiet place for others to read, work, and enjoy your favorite things, books and coffee.

Azriel was happy for you. Watching his mate, his wife, live her dreams was a reward he never felt he deserved. The only thing that hurt him was how little you had cared for yourself at this point.

Your nights were occupied with contacting authors, setting contracts with vendors, negotiating with Rhysand as he helped you pay for your dreams to come true. Your older brother had been beyond supportive, but was constantly checking your decisions to ensure they promised profit.

Not that money mattered.

This was about joy. Nothing else.

You had been so into this project that you had forgotten today was your birthday. To you, your birthday was nothing more than just another sunrise and sunset. To Azriel, it should have been a holiday within the Night Court. All of the courts, actually.

His most perfect little fae, the one he was made and destined for, the one who made him want to be better for himself and her deserved to be worshiped, and the fact that you had forgotten your birthday was killing him.

He perked up when the door opened. You walked in and froze when you saw him. Azriel stared at you as he lit the candle, his smile beginning to grow as you walked over.

He passed it to you before leaning on the counter, his eyes almost shining like hearts. Azriel watched as you blew out the candle, hoping your wish was for more time with him before moving to grab two little plates to split the cupcake with him.

His hands were on you instantly, arms wrapping around your waist pulling your back against his firm chest. “Love you so much,” he whispered into your hair. “You were supposed to come home hours ago.”

“I love you, too,” you giggled as he pouted, face buried in your neck, “I was so busy after you left. I'm sorry.”

“How busy,” he murmured. “Who stopped you from being with me?”

“I completely sold out of blind date books," there was an air of pride in your tone that hadn't been heard in years.

Azriel paused, “Really? You wrapped over 100?”

She nodded, cutting the cupcake for them, “Like I said, very busy.”

The two of you sat at the table, the dying fireplace the only glow lighting up the room. It wasn't how he wanted to spend the day, but the satisfied, tired smile on your face said it all. For you, today was perfect and that was all that mattered.

Azriel laced your fingers together, breaking the silence with his soft, deep voice, “Happy birthday, baby.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

#elizabeths.updates #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar drabble #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

303 notes · View notes

manonssunset · 1 month ago

Text

"UNWRAP ME"

pairing: huh yunjin x fem!reader

synopsys: yunjin mentioned she has a special christmas surprise waiting for you. when you arrived at home, you were surprised to find out that the special gift was her, seated beneath the christmas tree, ready for you to "unwrap" her.

warnings/tags: language, smut, nsfw content under the cut, established relationship, service top!reader, yunjin is the one giving commands, lingerie, dry humping (thigh riding)

wc: +3,4k

a/n: happy new year, guys! this is my special (super late) gift for you all, also first time posting something like this on the blog. I hope you find it hot, lol. this took me longer than expected, but I’m satisfied with the way it turned out. I reduced the smut part substantially because, honestly, you would have had to wait another 10 days to read it, bye 💀. but I still wrote almost 600 words of just them kissing, so there's that.

working through christmas was always quiet and a bit annoying, with clients constantly bragging about their exotic holiday plans or the luxurious gifts they were preparing to buy. but the truth was, you had no reason to feel envious. after all, you had the most priceless gift of all: yunjin, the kind of girl most could only wish for.

the sharp ding of your phone’s notification pulled you out of your thoughts. it was a sudden interruption, cutting through the steady rhythm of clicking fingers on keyboards, sounds that were all too familiar in the office. you glanced at the screen, expecting to see an email or maybe a quick reminder from a colleague. instead, your gaze fell on a message from your girlfriend. she often checked in on you while you worked, and you always found it endearing.

this time, however, the message wasn’t the usual question about how work was going or a casual mention of what she was making for dinner. no, this one felt entirely different.

[jen💋] your special gift is waiting for you under the tree, please get home as soon as you can ;)

(05:46 p.m.)

[you] 10 minutes and I'm out

(05:48 p.m.)

the message felt playful, almost teasing, and you were thrilled at the thought of what awaited you at home. she had mentioned before that she had something special prepared just for you, a gift that, in her words, you were going to absolutely love, said in that sensual tone of hers that always left your head spinning. to say you were eager to find out what she meant was an understatement.

-♧-

your hand trembled slightly as you gripped the keys to your shared apartment, anticipation rising with every turn of the metal. when the door finally clicked open, the soothing scent of vanilla and wood greeted you, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. as you stepped inside, you were immediately struck by an unexpected darkness in the room, the only light coming from the flickering glow of candles scattered around the space.

the silence was unnerving, an absence that made you pause. the only sound was the occasional crackle of the candles, yet it felt like something, or someone, was missing. yunjin’s presence, which you had so eagerly anticipated, wasn’t there to greet you as you had expected. she had promised to show you the long-awaited gift she’d been teasing you about all week, and yet, there was no sign of her.

your gaze instinctively shifted to the bottom of the christmas tree, and for a moment, you froze. your heart skipped a beat, and it took a second for your mind to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. she was there, wearing a black silk robe, held together with a red rope tied into a bow, like some kind of living present waiting just for you. the light from the candles reflected off the fabric, giving her an almost ethereal glow. she lay on the carpet, looking up at you with an inviting, seductive gaze.

your breath caught up in your throat, and for a brief second, you weren't sure if you should move closer or stay rooted in place. you gulped as you stood still, speechless, completely captivated by the sight before you. “you're finally home, I've been waiting for you” you felt your knees weaken at the tone of her voice, filled with control and sensuality. you couldn’t form a response, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment to be able to articulate anything.

she rose with grace, and, as she closed the distance between you two, each of her steps were accompanied by heels tapping against the floor. It was as though a muse was walking towards you, her hips swaying from side to side with an elegant, almost hypnotic confidence. your heartbeat quickened as she got closer, and instinctively, you started taking steps back, your senses heightened, your mind a mix of conflicting emotions. part of you wanted to ask what was happening, but another part was curious to see where this moment would lead.

the back of your legs collided with the couch, and you suddenly felt cornered, with nowhere to go, no escape from her approaching presence. a sly smirk tugged at her lips as she closed the distance, gently pushing you to sit down. the coldness of the cushions on your skin contrasted sharply with the warmth spreading inside you. your gazes locked, and in that instant, the desire in her eyes was so intense it felt almost magnetic, drawing you in, making you want to lose yourself in her and everything she embodied.

she positioned herself comfortably on your lap, her movements slow, milky legs peeking out from beneath the robe. it was then that you noticed the meticulous attention she had paid to her makeup, each detail enhancing her beauty. she had even chosen your favorite perfume, a sweet vanilla scent that perfectly complemented the fragrance of the candles. it was clear now that she had carefully orchestrated this moment, aiming to give you a show that you were bound to enjoy.

the sudden closeness caused heat to flood your face. the slight pressure of her body pressed against yours sent your mind into overdrive. you could feel every subtle shift of her weight, making it hard to focus on anything else that wasn’t her. your hand instinctively went to her thighs, gently massaging the soft skin that radiated warmth under your fingertips. she gently traced her fingers up your arms, the light touch sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, before placing them on top of your shoulders.

you stilled as her face inched closer, her lips just centimetres from your ear. in this proximity, the intoxicating scent of her perfume magnified tenfold, its sweetness filling your senses and clouding your thoughts. her breath was warm against your skin as she whispered “unwrap me”, her voice drenched in the same seductive tone that never failed to unsettle and allure you in. she noticed the subtle tension in your body after her words, the air thickened, growing more charged than before. your hands slowly made their way to the ribbon, fingertips grazing the soft fabric, before you finally gripped its ends.

you trembled as you undid the knot, the cool, soft fabric of the ribbon slipping smoothly beneath your fingers. the knot was simple but each movement felt agonizingly slow, as though time itself was stretching, drawn out by the weight of her gaze. her eyes, full of expectation, never left you, and the intensity of her look made your breath catch in your throat.

you held your breath as the ribbon finally loosened, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears. all the anticipation that had built from the moment she’d sent that text was unraveling now, piece by piece, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension hang in the air.

your eyes followed the path of her robe as it fell open, slipping off her shoulder to reveal what she had kept hidden until now. you couldn't help it when a gasp escaped your lips as you finally took in the sight before you: yunjin, all dolled up for you, wearing nothing more than a red lace set of lingerie. it accentuated her curves in a way that left your jaw slightly open, yet her elegance remained unmistakable. her set was far from tacky or overly explicit, it clung to her body with a sensuality that balanced provocativeness and sophistication. it revealed just enough, embracing her shape while maintaining a sense of grace and modesty.

the warm, golden hues of the room bathed her exposed skin, creating a soft, radiant glow. she resembled a living version of venus, as if she had stepped out of a renaissance painting, one that belonged in a museum. arousal swept through you as a tingling sensation began to rise. the tightness that had formed in your stomach spread lower, a pulsing ache that clouded your mind with lust. it was clear that the feeling was mutual. the intensity of her gaze and the way her eyes locked with yours was a telltale sign that she was consumed too by the same need. her restless shifting, searching for the friction she desperately craved, also spoke volume.

she broke the silence with a question, her voice quieter, tinged with an unexpected hint of uncertainty. “do you like it?” despite your obvious reaction, she still sought confirmation, her usual confidence momentarily slipping. “jen, I don't think you understand how much I love it,” you said, almost baffled by her question. it wasn’t just about the lingerie, although it was stunning, it was everything she had done for this moment, all the care and effort she had put into it, just for you. and above all, it was her, the most important person for you. “thank you, baby,” she replied, her seductive tone returning as she cupped your face with both hands and leaned closer. “now, let’s get to the good part.”

her lips crashed against yours with urgency, the relentlessness evident in the way she yanked you closer, her fingers gripping the back of your head, anchoring themselves in your hair. the contact was frantic, as if she couldn't get enough of you. she tilted her head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss as you let your hands roam her body freely, your fingers caressing her skin before resting on her waist. there was a raw desperation in the way she kissed you, as if she was trying to devour you; her longing for you was unmistakable, like she could no longer keep it contained.

the way her lips moved with yours was soothing, the warmth of her skin sinking deep into you, making everything else fade away. your bodies were so close, it was almost as if you were breathing each other in, each subtle movement heightening the feeling of intimacy. the kiss was the physical manifestation of the desire you had both been hiding, the need to feel every part of each other becoming almost overwhelming. it wasn't anymore just about meeting lips, it was about being intertwined, your bodies pressing against each other in perfect harmony.

you both pulled away briefly, her breath was ragged and shallow, a soft whimper escaping her as you squeezed the flesh of her ass. you both lingered there, a brief pause from the intensity of the session, both of your lips slightly parted as you caught your breath, chest rising and falling in sync. her pupils were dilated, a hint of something in her eyes, an unspoken impulse that was being held back, waiting to be released. you heard her mumble a quiet “fuck it” and before you could even register her words, she tugged you forward by the collar of your shirt, your lips making contact again.

her tongue ran gently over your lips, applying pressure as a silent invitation to enter. you granted her request, allowing her muscle to invade your mouth, lightly sucking on it. she let out a surprised gasp at the sensation, her fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your button up shirt. as you massaged your tongues together in a gentle but intense dance, teeth clicking and saliva exchanging, your hands returned around her waist, pressing into the softness of her skin. you carefully bit her bottom lip, drawing it between yours as you continued sucking. it was all too much for her, the sensation was overwhelming, and her control slowly slipped away.

she began grinding on your lap as you were still kissing, her body moving effortlessly as she chased her own pleasure. you guided her hips and pressed her down further more, and she let out little, desperate gasps every time your lips parted to allow oxygen in. you couldn't lie and say that yunjin using you as a way to get off didn't turn you on, the sensation was electrifying, and you felt your own desire seep through your panties, soaking them.

“mmph–ahh, jesus—” her sweet moans were muffled by your lips, creating a delicious symphony that reverberated in the confines of your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. the rough fabric of your work pants against her thin panties generated the ideal friction on her clit, making her mind go fuzzy. her hands roamed aimlessly, grasping and gripping whatever lay within reach: the fabric of your shirt, your arms, the back of your neck, your hair, and so on. she was riding your thigh so desperately it was almost cinematic: erratically moving her hips, grinding down, attempting to rub every time on the same perfect spot that gave her immense pleasure.

the room was starting to feel too hot for you. the heat from the candles, but especially from the union of your two bodies so close together, was becoming unbearable, so you decided to break the kiss to remove some of your clothing. after you delicately pushed yunjin back, allowing her body to rest on your legs, your eyes widened in surprise at the sight before you. it was beautiful; a clear, glassy strand of saliva was still connecting the two of you, a quiet reminder of your closeness. she was about to whine at the loss of contact when she also realized what she was seeing, and a small genuine smile tugged at her lips.

you took advantage of the quiet moment to finally contemplate your girlfriend’s physical state: her face had a subtle pink flush that still peeped through even under her makeup, her lips were a strong red color that matched her lingerie, and they were quite swollen, an evident consequence of the kissing. her eyes were like a window to the multitude of emotions that pervaded her: delight, confidence, a bit of frustration, and, above all, desire. as your gaze moved lower down her body, you spotted a wet patch on her underwear; the fabric turned a much darker shade of red, and you wanted nothing more than to get a taste of the source of that change.

she noticed your intense stare and turned her head, flustered. “stop staring at me like that,” she said softly, her voice pulling you out of your trance as you felt her left hand brush over the skin of your face, settling on your jaw. in that moment, all your focus was on her. “no, but seriously,” she started, her tone firm like she needed you to be serious with her. “why did you stop?” her question was accompanied by a tiny pout, which made you smile, her frustration evident in her puppy-like features. you let out a slight chuckle in response, placing your hand over hers as a sign of reassurance.

“I was honestly just too hot and wanted to take my shirt off,” you truthfully replied with a grin, finding the simplicity of your answer pretty amusing. as the words left your mouth, her pout melted away into a smile, mirroring yours. underlying her happiness though, she felt a tingling sensation begin to rise, a silent excitement at seeing you without your shirt. “do that then,” you caught her need by the urgency of her command and by the way she looked at you, as if she had already taken your shirt off with her eyes. you were more than happy to comply, gradually undoing all of your buttons just to tease her.

her whole demeanor was full of anticipation, she had folded her hands diligently on her lap while she watched you do your thing. as you slowly stripped for her, dragging out all of your movements since you knew it would turn her on more, she spotted your sculpted abs and your muscular arms, finally free of your shirt. the sight hit her all at once, causing her thighs to impulsively clench around yours and her hips to buck into the air.

heat flooded her face as she blushed in embarrassment, her reaction an obvious indication of her neediness; her head dropped into the crook of your now fully exposed neck, as if she was trying to hide from you. she took advantage of the closeness to inhale the scent your body. it was a mix of the aquatic and musky fragrance you used at work, one she could never resist whenever you wore it, mingled with the natural, comforting aroma of your skin. this mixture was fatal for yunjin, the scent did unspeakable things to her, her already soaked panties now starting to leave a wet spot on your own pants, and she was growing more desperate with each second that passed.

you were quick to detect it, knowing exactly what she was craving for in that moment, taking the lead for the first time that night. “come on, ride my thigh,” you ordered as you patted your right leg, knowing that having just one of your thighs between her legs would cause her far more friction than simply rocking into your lap. the sudden switch in your tone of voice went straight to yunjin's core as more of her fluids gushed out. she weakly nodded and stood on her trembling knees, holding onto your bare shoulders and submissively following your order. you gripped her waist to keep her stable as she moved over to your thigh, carefully positioning herself.

“fuck!” she exclaimed when you suddenly pulled her down onto your leg with force, the unexpected contact with her sensitive clit causing her to gasp loudly in response. her face contorted with pleasure as she began riding your thigh, her hips moving like waves, crashing and withdrawing in a rhythmic pattern. “oh–oh my god,” she moaned beautifully, letting out melodic sounds with each movement of her hips. “this feels so good,” the pleasure she was experiencing led her eyes to close tightly and her mouth to open.

“good girl, keep moving,” you purred into her ear as your hands dragged her back and forth. her brain short-circuited at the name you gave her: she squirmed on top of you, her hips stuttering as a familiar sensation started to build inside her. she mewled in response; the commanding, dominant yunjin who had left you flustered just minutes ago was now a moaning mess under your touch. “ah— god” she threw her head back as she felt your thigh twitch and stiffen beneath her, providing the perfect solidity against her clit.

as she continued to hump, your hands left her waist and slowly worked their way up to her chest, not without lightly scratching her skin, causing a burning sensation to spread beneath the surface. you began massaging and caressing her tits over her bra, lazily rubbing circles with your thumbs across the fabric. just the light pressure was enough for her to feel pleasure as more lewd sounds left her mouth. so it came as no surprise that, when you exposed her nipples and pinched them with your fingers, she let out a guttural scream. “fu-fuck–please, keep— ahh— keep doing that,” she begged as you twisted and pulled her sensitive buds.

her insides started to burn, a tight knot in her low abdomen indicated that her orgasm was near. “are you close?” you asked as you noticed her movements become sloppier and her moans rising in pitch. “y-yes, I— please— please let me come.” her voice trembled as she pleaded for your permission. as much as you wanted to tease her, to push her just a little further, you couldn’t resist and granted her request. “go ahead baby,” the moment you were done speaking you felt her body still in your hands, her back arched and her head thrown back. her vision faded to black as she reached her climax, a wave of pleasure washing over her as she cried out a mixture of curse words and little “thank you”s.

she collapsed into your arms, her body was now a limp weight pressed against your chest. her head nestled against your neck, her eyes closed as she focused on regaining the stable rhythm of her breath. you gently stroked her hair as a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you, the only sounds being the soft crackle of the candles and her breathing. the warmth of her body pressed against yours was like a gentle caress, a comforting embrace that made you melt into your seat. “can we stay like this for a bit?” she asked softly, her voice hoarse from all the moaning, and her arms tightened around you as she clung to your torso. “of course,” you replied, leaning your head over hers and caressing her back, savoring the closeness. “whatever you want.”

a/n: oof, this one was really long to write, I'm so sorry for the wait, guys, hope you like it!

#le sserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin #huh yunjin smut #huh yunjin #jennifer huh #yunjin x reader #thigh riding #yunjin smut #yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #marty talks #christmas smut #le sserafim imagines #kpop smut #wlw

313 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ ��𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤmodern!oberyn martell x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, modern au

word count: 2k

summary: when you accidentally blurt out one of the fantasies that you kept locked up in your head, oberyn is more than eager to oblige to your request.

warnings: piv, anal sex, first time anal, rimming, fingering, lots of lube and praise

a/n: we did a secret santa for our server space sisters and my giftee was @iamasaddie! Happy holidays love! I hope you enjoy this little smutty fic, I definitely enjoyed writing it 🎄🎄🎄

can you guys believe i couldn't find one decent image of a peach being fingered???? a shame really

**stunning divider by the amazing @saradika <333

Everything about Oberyn drives you crazy.

The way he dresses, the way he smells, the melodic lilt of his voice—every part of him you adore and cherish. You’re undeniably lucky to have this man in your life and not only that but to have him as a partner is something you’re in awe of every single day. He satisfies you like no man ever could. He gives you every bit of himself. His tongue, his fingers. . . it’s almost as if the man was solely created to bring pleasure to you.

But, despite all of that, you’re still not as open as you wish to be. You can never be as blunt with him as he is with you. He needs to drag your desires out of you. Tease you until you snap and practically shout at him to make you come. Oberyn doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d said on multiple occasions how much he enjoyed it.

“Look at you so wet around my cock,” he purrs, the back of his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth roughly on the word cock. Oberyn’s right. You are wet. Soaked even. Every time he rocks you forward you feel the wet fabric of the bedding scraping your outer knee. You moan loudly into the pillows, fluttering around him as he fucks, fucks, and fucks himself deeper into you.

You’re not sure where you end and he begins. Sex with him is always like this. Mind numbingly beautiful. Satisfying. You feel the warmth of the Christmas lights framing your window kissing your sweaty skin. Your clit throbs. You don’t think you can hold on much longer.

But just as you’re nearing the edge, Oberyn’s thumb traces the tight rim of your other hole. He slowly pushes in, only a bit, the stretch adds enough pressure for another moan to come tumbling out your lips, your upper body fully falling. Oberyn hums, his hips slowing into a sensual grind. “Does my sweet girl want me to fuck this hole next?” This is something that he teases you about more often than not. He’s never acted on it though. “So fucking tight.”

He pushes his thumb till the first knuckle and it’s like electricity shooting down your spine. Your entire body jolts, the words leaving your throat before you even realize what you’re saying.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes yes yes—please fuck me there—”

Oberyn stops.

So does your heart.

Fuck fuck fuck. That was meant to be a secret.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing!” you answer quickly and high-pitched. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oberyn dips until his lean chest is firmly pressed against the curve of your spine. His lips touch your ear, his breath warm and inviting. The hand that was teasing your hole slips to the side to cup your ass. He kneads the muscle tenderly.

“Are you sure?” he hums. “Why would you hide this from me?”

“I. . . wasn’t. . .”

“Ah, so you admit it is something that you want.”

You let out an airy chuckle, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Just trick me into admitting things.”

“I just asked a question,” he says innocently. It’s a bit hard to focus on his words when he’s cock deep inside of you. “Now, tell me why this is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

Oberyn drags his lips down to the base of your neck and kisses you, your body melting into the sheets instantly. You’re glad he can’t see your face right now. You don’t think you can admit this while those observant eyes are looking down at you.

“I’ve never tried it before. And. . . I was nervous to ask about it,” you take a sharp inhale. “I did want to tell you. I just—You’re already so much better at this than I am, I didn’t want to look even more inexperienced.”

Before you know it Obeyn has you by the shoulders, twisting your body enough so that you’re facing him instead of keeping your head buried in the pillows. You chew on the inside of your cheek. He looks serious. Did you say something wrong?

“Better at what?” he asks even though he knows the answer.

“At sex.”

“Sex is not a competition, and for what it’s worth you are good at it. And I love being your first when it comes to intimacy. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he starts moving again, the heavy drag of his cock between your legs making your eyes roll. “But, if you are still feeling anxious let me prove to you how much I love being your first—and last.”

Your lips curl into a small smile, “Last?”

His smile is sinister. Teeth showing as he dips to your neck, taking a slow, yet sharp, bite. A whimper rattles your throat. “Is it wrong for me to want to humor the idea that I’ll be fucking you somewhere no one has before and that no one else will ever touch you beside me?” Oberyn pulls out, your body immediately aching to be filled again. “Get on all fours.”

You oblige eagerly. Your arms are shaking as you prop yourself up, the inside of your thighs slick. Oberyn reaches for the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of lube. When he disappears behind you again you expect the cool feel of jel, but instead, you receive his mouth—and tongue.

“Oh fuck—”

“Be still,” he growls, gripping your hips. “Let me feast.”

He swirls his tongue around your asshole, hot saliva dripping right against it. You shudder as he pushes it through, teeth grazing the flesh gingerly. Oberyn parts your cheeks with both hands and pushes the wet muscle deeper. Pleasure rakes your body, your core throbbing with need. You’re close. Just a couple swipes of his tongue and you’re already there, ready to burst.

He mouths against you and when he deems you wet enough, he slips a finger inside. Your body tenses around him, the sensation foreign but not unwanted. Oberyn’s one hand cups your sex, fingers starting to draw patterns around your throbbing clit while he thrusts the fingers in and out. Moan after moan rips from your throat. The stimulation against your clit loosens you further. He slips another finger. Both knuckle deep as he fucks you with them.

“That’s it. You’re stunning like this. Beautiful.”

You fist the sheets, hips sloppily grinding back to meet the fast movement of his fingers. “O–Oberyn please. . .”

“Oh you think you’re ready?” he chuckles and for some reason, the sound urges a fresh gush of wetness to roll out of you. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck this sweet ass and maybe. . .” he groans. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

Your breath catches in your throat, “Please fuck me with your big cock Oberyn—I need it—Need you—”

He hums and something about the way he moves makes you think he’s not satisfied with your begging. And here you thought you’ve been doing a good job. He pulls away both hands and drags them up your back, cupping your shoulders. You’re in near tears when his cock spreads your folds and grazes against your clit. “You want me to fuck you here?”

Oberyn’s a cruel, cruel man.

“N—No,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Not. . . not there.”

“Where then?”

“My. . .” Damn it, your voice is trembling. “My ass.”

You say it silently, barely above a whisper. He hisses through clenched teeth, pulls back his hips, and snaps forward, fucking your thighs instead of where you really need him. “Louder,” he commands.

“Fuck me in the ass—” you practically shout. “Please please please fuck me in the ass—I want to feel you—Been wanting it for so long.”

You sigh happily at the feeling of a generous amount of lube being poured down from the bottle and directly onto your hole. Oberyn pours some into his palm, jerking himself until he’s fully coated in lube. The bulbous head of his cock teases your hole, your back arches for him, urging him to go on.

He fills you inch by glorious inch. The sounds he’s making behind you are downright sinful—your body reacts to his sweet moans, your name falling from his lips. You feel so full. Once again your upper body falls to the sheets, your poor arms too weak to support yourself any longer. Oberyn keeps your ass up in the air, still pushing his cock deeper.

“So big,” you slur, your body feeling aflame.

“Just a little more. You’re taking me so well, such a good girl.”

Your body jerks as he buries himself a bit deeper, has he always been this thick? “Say that again. Tell me how good I am, please.”

Oberyn blankets your shuddering body, holding himself still, he begins to whisper in your ear, “So good. You’re always my good girl, even when you do keep secrets from me. You’re the perfect glove for my cock. I am going to fuck you so good that your inside will be the shape of me.”

Just as you get wetter and wetter at his words, Oberyn fills you to the brim. You choke around nothing, every nerve thrumming with pleasure. Your body squeezes him tight and when you finally loosen a bit, Oberyn groans.

“Can I move?”

“Please.”

He squeezes your hips as he pulls out, the heavy press of his cock making you see stars. Then before you can gather yourself he’s pounding into you, stretching you to your limits. There’s a hum in your ears and vaguely you can hear him moaning your name. Your mouth floods with saliva, his teeth sinking into where your neck connects with your shoulder.

Desperately you reach back and take a hold of his wrist. Your touch only spurs him on, hips deliciously moving in and out. The sound of skin slapping against skin becomes louder and louder.

“Oh god,” you moan, your fingers tightening around his wrist. “I’m gonna come.”

“Can you come like this?” He asks genuinely. “With my cock in your ass?”

You don’t think you can actually. Your close. So very close that you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, but you just need a bit more, just a little touch—

“Do not—“ Your hand stills, you weren’t even aware that you’d begun to move your arm to stroke your clit. “Tell me. Tell me why you want and I’ll give you fucking everything.”

“I—I need you to touch me.”

Oberyn doesn’t make you say it twice. He’s stroking your clit with fast strokes, his hips in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Hear licks you from the inside out and the pressure between your legs builds, builds and builds until you can’t take it anymore.

It happens all at once, your body shatters into a million pieces as you shudder around him, his cock splitting you open over and over. Between your moans you can hear him groaning your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect.

You feel the rush of wetness running down your thighs and Oberyn’s fingers that were so deftly circling your clit moves to your hip, squeezing the flesh.

“That’s my sweet girl, coming so pretty with my cock in her ass—I’m going to come, fill you until you’re dripping—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Your entire body clenches, hugging his cock tight. Oberyn comes with a shattered breath and shallow thrusts, he pushes forward, balls deep. Another orgasm washes over you, your body thrumming with pleasure.

“Fuck—“ he rasps, slowly easing himself out. A shiver crawls up your spine as come slips down between your cheeks and down your thighs. He kisses the skin between your shoulders. “You look so good like this. So full of come.”

“Wish I could see,” you hum.

“Next time I will bring a camera.” He collects himself on his fingers and slips them inside of you, a moan deserts your lips. “Or perhaps I should fuck you again.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“Do not ever hide anything from me again. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x fem!reader #oberyn martell smut #modern oberyn martell #game of thrones fanfic #got fic #oberyn martell fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #space sisters secret santa 2023

863 notes · View notes

hazbinshusk · 2 months ago

Text

It’s the holiday season, and I know most of you may be spending an extended period of time with family and friends. So, kind-hearted as I am, I thought I would take a moment to remind you that while you’re spending quality time with them...

Husk Edition

Not to think about Husk sitting next to you at the dinner table, listening along to whatever conversation is playing out around you. He’s working hard not to look so damn sullen – Charlie had managed to track down half the hotel’s actual families for the occasion, yours among them. The two of you might not be so into labels, might not be announcing any time soon what you have between you to the people sitting opposite you, but he still finds himself worrying that they won’t approve.

Don’t think about him sipping at glass of wine or whiskey as he listens to you try and justify whatever crap they’re judging you for now, his other hand making a slow, familiar journey up over your thigh.

You’re not to think about the way it starts out innocently enough – a calming reassurance against the scattered stress of the high holidays. But as the meal carries on into seconds and thirds and the both of you had had a little more than you should to drink, his hand wanders higher, his own anxieties soothed by the feel of your warm skin against his heart-shaped palm.

Don’t think about him kneading into the flesh of your thigh, the softest of purrs rumbling through his chest – barely audible over the dull roar of warring conversations. His claws digging lightly into your skin, ghosting up just under the hem of the dress you wore to make your mother happy. You can feel the soft breeze of his tail twitching back and forth by your ankle, notice the soft tilt of his lips as you glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Don’t think of him retracting his claws to tease those long fingers delicately over your inner thigh, or the way that soft smirk twitches wider when you feel yourself part your legs instinctively to his touch. Husk will accept another drink with ease – for once not the bastard who has to serve the drinks – and you’ll have to force your voice not to catch as you tell Niffty that yes, you would like some pie. No, you’ll keep it steady even as you swallow back the whimper that threatens when Husk tugs your underwear to the side and runs a fingertip up against you.

Don’t think about how satisfied he’ll be to find you wet, how his ear will flick greedily towards you to catch that little hitch in your breath as he brushes a finger against your clit. He didn’t intend to do this… he’s not a total creep… but how can he resist when your lips part that way at his touch, your teeth grazing your bottom lip? At the scent of your growing excitement teases at his senses, overpowers the rich smells of the dinner spread across the table. All he can do is thank fuck that Niffty had dressed the table with a long, wide tablecloth that spills out over your laps, and hope you keep letting him get away with this.

Don’t think about the way Husk’s hand is going to feel between your legs; those slow, gentle touches that send those addictive little sparks swirling into the pit of your stomach. The way your hand will clench too tightly around your fork as you try to busy yourself with your food, try to appear like everything is normal even as you begin to desperately wish you could grab him by the arm and drag him off to the nearest private room so you can fuck him until you’ve forgotten all about the guests of honour.

Don’t think about Husk leaning across you as though to reach for the basket of bread rolls, just so that he can murmur in your ear how wet you are, how much he wishes he could bend you over the table right here and taste you. You’ll shudder – whether its because of his words or the way he slides a finger into you, who could tell? His nose just manages to brush against your cheek as he sits back again, and it’ll take everything you have not to turn your head to chase his lips for a kiss.

Don’t think about the way Husk will finger you slowly, steadily, pausing only when people’s eyes begin to linger on you for a moment too long. His thumb teasing against your clit and your face flushing with heat the more you try to keep yourself calm. Your breathing quickens and you’ll swear you can taste blood from where your teeth have been digging into your lip.

Don’t think about the way Husk’s own breathing will grow unsteady when you reach over to clutch at his thigh under the table, shifting your hips as subtly as you can against his hand. It’s amazing you don’t tear his pants with the way you’re gripping at his leg, and Husk’s tail curls around your calf, and he has to dampen his purr with another whiskey.

Don’t think about how badly he’ll wish he could fuck you. To kiss you even… to feel you moan against his tongue. He wants to taste you… to suck your sweetness off his fingers or to better yet, bury his face btween your thighs and feel them squeeze around his ears as he assaults your clit with his tongue.

And whatever you do, don’t think about how goddamned pleased the bartender will look when you finally cum, your body jerking enough that you knock the table and the cutlery rattles against the wood. Just how quickly do you think you’d be able to make enough excuses so you can get the both of you away from the table and back to his room for round two?

#husk #husk fic #my fic #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin husk

120 notes · View notes

barleyo · 8 months ago

Note

Hii! Merry Christmas<3 Can I request some nsfw for sir nighteye please? He works late and doesn’t get home until really late at night and the reader is kinda sad because they’re lonely without him. Ty :))

All I Want For Christmas.

Sir Nighteye x F! Reader (smut)

A/N: As you can probably tell, I got the request last year during Christmas. Shame on me for taking so long, I truly apologize. You can beat me up if you wish, anon, I wouldn't blame you </3 (also if you noticed re-used writing of mine from other fics in this... mind your business)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Nighteye's real name used, smut, p, handjobs, oral (f receiving), established relationship

The holidays were always hard. Mirai was dedicated to his job, being Sir Nighteye and all, even as the winter months approached. He never forgot about them, per se, but he never made much room for them. He tried to get off of work earlier when he met you, making sure that he would at least see you before you went to bed every night. A call, a text, anything. He did his best, but no matter how hard he tried, work was his driving force in life.

You tried to not let it bother you, you knew the hardships that came with being with a pro hero. You kept that thought in your head as you stood near the oven, bending down to shove your last batch of cookies in.

You had been baking the whole day in preparation for Christmas. Hoping that Mirai would join you, you had an apron sitting on the dining room table for him, but that hope had faded out at around 9:30 P.M. when you realized it would be another late night of work for him. Your hands trembled a bit, the heat of the pans seeping through your old, worn oven mitts as you transferred a hot tray to your makeshift cookie decoration station.

You slapped icing on the warm cookies, blowing on them as the sweet frosting melted off of the tops. Your table had become cluttered and messy, with icing, sprinkles, flour, and crumbs dusting the tablecloth.

“Damn it,” you mumbled, slipping your thumb into your mouth after catching a scoop of icing on it. You took a whole cookie, hands fidgeting at its warmth as you struggled to hold it, and took a bite, trying to enjoy yourself as much as you could, despite your husband's absence.

“They look nice.”

“Hmph?" You spun around quickly, hand wiping quickly at the crumbs on your lips. Your eyes relaxed when you noticed the familiar green tufts of hair and golden eyes before you. “Yeah, I’ve been making them all day.” She held back from adding 'no thanks to you' at the end of her sentence.

“Do you need any help? I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. I can help out for as long as you need me to tonight.” Mirai offered his hand out to you, but let it fall down to his side when you coldly turned away from him.

“Most of the work is done already, I don’t think I need your help.” You winced at her own words, feeling the venom they were laced with. “I think you should just head to bed. I can handle this."

His stoney face didn’t budge, he clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer. “I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help you. I enjoy spending time with you, doing things that you enjoy.” Rolling up his sleeves, he began clearing the table of the cookie cutters and mixing bowls, placing them softly in the sink. “I will wash those later, do not worry.”

You ignored his words and tried to urge him away again. “Aren’t you tired from work? I really think you should go to sleep. Working for so long just to come home and do more work can't be healthy.”

“Is that what this is about then? Me working so long?”

“No, it’s not. And there is no ‘this,’ nothing is going on,” you scoffed, dripping more red icing onto a stray cookie.

There was silence for a moment before you felt arms wrap around your waist, firm but gentle. You placed the icing bag down on the table and tried to look, but your neck couldn’t crane far enough to see him. He slouched down, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“Mirai, no, it’s not like that, I know your job is Important. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a hero, but I just wish…” your voice fizzled out a bit when his large hands started to travel up and down your body, stopping at your chest momentarily.

“That I’d make more time for you? I hear you, dear. I’m not being fair, am I? Here you are, doing all of this alone, and during the holidays. Leaving you alone at a time like this isn’t considerate. Leaving you alone at all isn’t right on my part.”

He licked a stripe over your neck, sucking on the spot softly. His teeth edged the skin, leaving a small purple mark on it. After examining it once more, he let go of you and spun your body around to face him.

“I know you’ve missed me,” Mirai said softly, “I’ve missed you too. Being with you, feeling you, all of it. Can I show you how much I’ve missed you?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please.”

He used his long, thin fingers to untie the knot at the back of your apron, shooting it down to the floor. He made quick work of your pants too, leaving only your shirt on.

Before he touched you, you quickly made your move and unbuckled his belt, slipping his cock out swiftly.

Giving a few, testing strokes, you held as much of his cock that she could manage in your fist. You went fast, tip to base, knowing he would want to stop to please you instead. He shuttered a bit, hips threatening to snap into your hand.

“You spoil me," he said softly into your ear, jaw tensing with each stroke, "but right now is not about me. I want to apologize to you, to make you feel good. Let me.”

You didn't let go, instead you focused on the head of his cock, rolling it in your hands. “Not until you cum. I've waited too long for this."

Mirai took a breath through his nose and huffed at you. "Fine."

He stopped holding his composure and let himself sink into the pleasure that your hand provided. He could cum quite quick if he let himself go, but his tense nature let him last quite a while in other circumstances.

His breathing went ragged and sharp. He brought his hips back and forth, fucking into your hand desperately. He pulled your hand off of his dick before he could cum, not honoring your little agreement.

"Hey, you promised," you whined, frustration crossing your face while you looked up at him.

"I know. I am such a liar, aren't I?" His breathy laugh fanned your face, and the small smile he flashed was enough to erase any anger you had in that moment.

He placed his hand gently on your face, tipping your head to look up at him. "Do you want my mouth, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"Your mouth." You felt his hands manhandle you upwards, placing your body on the table behind you.

"Good. I always like when you choose that option."

His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding small circles around your clit.

"Stop moving," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound. Your legs kept pressing together, as if you were trying to push him away. He slipped one hand between your thighs and forcefully held them apart.

His large tongue slid through your wet folds, slowly teasing through, from your entrance to her pulsing clit. He stopped at your clit again and clasped his lips around it, sucking on the tender bud. He let dribbles of spit fall from his mouth onto your cunt, only slurp it back up again to keep you wet and messy.

Not hesitating, you reached your hand down and gripped his hair, holding him in place, and rolled your hips onto his face.

He didn't mind, simply letting a soft laugh escape his lips. It was cute, the way you took what you wanted from him.

Your legs stuttered as you moved, twitching while moans caught in your throat. Your hands still pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose nudging your clit sent you over the edge. A sweet wave crashed over you, making you practically vibrate with pleasure.

After your grip on his hair loosened, your husband stood up and looked down at you, eyes peeking past his fogged up glasses.

"So, do you think you can forgive me now?"

You rolled your eyes at the smirk that played on his lips and shook your head. Rolling over, you pushed your ass up against the tent in his boxers.

"Not yet."

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #x reader #bnha x reader #sir nighteye x reader #sir nighteye #Mirai Sasaki x reader #smut fanfiction #x y/n #mha #my hero academia

163 notes · View notes

dragonfly0808 · 2 months ago

Text

Hiatus

So… this is a post I’ve been debating with myself these past 2/3 weeks on whether to make or not.

Some of yall may have noticed that I’ve been taking quite a few breaks from s4 and I have unfortunately just finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve hit a bit of a writing block when it comes to my Winx Club rewrite.

I’ve had a few frustrations during s4 (even though I’ve managed to keep my writing up to my own personal standards, it’s been very difficult) and- despite being halfway through the season, unlike past seasons I still have no idea what I’m going to do with s5 and it’s just been getting to me.

And now I am forced to accept that if I keep forcing myself to churn out chapters and stressing out over keeping you all waiting until I’m satisfied with every chapter, the only thing I’ll do is kill my creativity and my love for this rewrite.

I’ve been working on this rewrite for nearly 3 years and it kinda low-key shames me to say that I am officially placing it on hiatus.

To me ‘taking a break’ and ‘hiatus’ are 2 completely different things, I know I’ve taken breaks before but I always had some vague idea of when I’d return but this time… I just don’t know.

I have been working on my Original Novel and works for other fandoms that have just been filling me with inspiration in a way I haven't been able to feel with Winx Club for a bit now.

I hope I have built up enough trust over these past 3 years for you all to believe me when I say that I will be back. I am not the type to leave things unfinished, especially a story that means so much to me and that I am so very proud of and that has helped me grow so much as a writer and has helped me get through some difficult times and express certain emotions and grief in a way I never could’ve if I hadn’t dived into this 3 long years ago.

I was really hoping to post chapters for Xmas and New Years as I have past years but I just can’t- HOWEVER, on January 28th, the third anniversary of Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas, I will post… something. I don’t know if it will be a chapter or not but I will do something for the anniversary.

If you wanna know what I’ll be up to; I will be working on my Original Novel since I have finally landed on exactly what idea I want to work on. I will also be working on 2 projects, one for ATLA (Zutara post-canon self-indulgent thingy) and another one that I honestly don’t know if I’ll go through with since it’d be a pretty big project and I’m still thinking about how I’d go about it, but that I am very inspired and excited about.

So yeah, thank you all for your never ending support and- again, I WILL BE BACK, this is not an abandonment of the rewrite, it’s just me having to prioritize my mental health and protect both my love for writing and my love for the rewrite. I’ll be going through my inbox this next week and answer a bunch of stuff that I just haven’t really looked through in a while.

Thank you so much for understanding and for your support. I hope you will wait for the return of the rewrite and that maybe you will give my other projects a chance when I post them. I will be posting a lot of my inner thoughts on the rewrite and my other projects chapters + thoughts on my Ko-fi if you wanna check that out.

I wish you all Happy Holidays!

With eternal love and gratitude,

Yours Truly, Dragonfly

#winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx fanfic #winx headcanons #veiled wings and shattered panoramas #Crossroads of destiny and will o’ the wisps #i will return

87 notes · View notes

tonixe · 1 year ago

Text

—santa baby

A/N: Another Coriolanus Fic, I know, im obsessed. But I'm still in love with him. Christmas special, and the votes were counted, and the winning side was smut, not surprised though. I wanted smut too!

WARNING: fingering, creampies, virginity loss, p in v, teasing, groping, breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating.

PAIRING: Young! Coriolanus x virgin!reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

You enjoyed the holidays, the festive decorations, and the lovely atmosphere of the holiday, it filled you with much peace and joy throughout the month. But this month was your favorite, Christmas is a day that you get to gift people, and though people coup up in the Capitol, you were spoiled with many gifts from your parents and others, but you especially liked to gift people with your own expensive, spoiling others made you feel happy, enthralled even. Surprising from someone of your caliber to say.

You especially liked to gift your loved ones, your mother, father, siblings, and especially your beloved, Coriolanus Snow. You were in distress about what to gift him for this especially holiday, though you knew he always got something to satisfy your craving for luxury. You didn't know at all, even trying to talk to Tigris about what Coriolanus always wanted, she, herself didn't have an answer for this difficult question. A thought bloomed in your mind, though of the four years of marriage you shared with Coriolanus, you never ever had a sexual encounter with him. Was gifting him your virginity too scandalous, but you didn't know anything else that would do it for him, he did have everything a man wished for,

What would a president of Panem want for Christmas, you sat down and read through catalogs and catalogs of magazines to get you an idea of what to do. You knew Coriolanus adored having you wearing lingerie, especially the lacy ones that showed skin, you felt queasy at the idea, your cheek getting hotter by the second, pursing your lips together, but there wasn't any other way...right?

Your idea was to make a special set of lingerie for you to wear for Coriolanus, you wanted something that would match his signature red suit. Something lacy, with ribbons and cute little bows. You manage to get a tailor that would set up the special lingerie collection. Attending the fitting was hard, especially with Coriolanus wanting to know where you are every second, can't have Panem's prized jewel going missing?

You had a bunch of peacekeepers guarding your every move, walking into the tailor shop and out, even going inside. It was hard to keep this secret hidden from Coriolanus, especially with the loyal guards who reported your every move. But you manage to keep the secret, even making the tailor meet you in a secluded area of the shop to get the measurements.

But in the end, it was able to be complete, the dainty luxurious fabric into a piece of lingerie fitted for your delicate curves, it was a babydoll delicate, with stockings with matching bows on the top of the seams. It was perfect, you hoped that would enjoy that gift, but some part of you doubted. Days after days passed, and it was the prized day, the day you were ready for.

You snuck out of your shared chambers, your plan was to surprise him, writing down a little note and leaving it by his side. Taking out the box with the special garments inside the parcel, sliding on the red delicate lingerie, and mesh tights. Wrapping yourself with a red ribbon, tying your hands together, tightening it with your teeth. Carefully getting into the medium-sized box, you were almost done until you heard footsteps through the hallways, and quickly put the box top on. Your heart rate increases, and you feel your palm getting sweaty...

Hearing Coriolanus's voices through the box, closing your mouth shut. You didn't want to spoil his precious gift, hoping he would at least be satisfied with the surprising gift, crossing your fingers in hope.

Coriolanus called out for you, realizing that you were beside him when he woke up. He knew you enjoy the holidays and this one in general, as he stepped out into the living, there was already a gift he planned to present to you, but looking at the strange box, it was red with a silver ribbon, and was slightly moving. He cocked his eyebrows at the scene, cautiously walking towards the present.

His hands reach for the box and open it, your frame being revealed to him, your eyes making contact with his. "So, this is where you were, my dove," He said, chuckling at your struggling form, "Merry Christmas, Corio" You gave him a shy smile, but you should have seen how you looked in Coriolanus' perspective, the red ribbon wrapping around your body, and near your chest area squeezing against your breast, awaiting to spill out of their confinements. Flickering your eyes away from him, feeling Coriolanus grabbing you out the box shocking you. The red ribbons still confine to your body, as he bridal carried you, "So, this why you were so distinct from me, trying to make this little gift" he smirked, your eyes hestitiately looking away from his bright blue eyes.

His footsteps carry you to your shared chambers, your heart beating in your chest. As he delicately put you on the edge of the bed, your body still confined with the ribbon, he took out some embroidery scissors, slowly cutting through the ribbon except the ones on your hand, as he placed it down on the delicate wooden desk.

His eyes wandered on your half-naked body. Your body looked smooth, doll-like. Your perky chest with hard peaks, his hands touching your confined ones, and he put them over your head. "You did so good for me, dove" he whispered, his fingers touching you, tracing the line of your stomach to your collarbone making you shiver. He outlined your stomach down to your pelvis, gradually dragging off the lacy red panties, making you anxious as your eyes followed his fingers dragging off the delicate panties. Extending your legs, looking at the panties fully being extracted, and throwing them to the other side of the bedroom. The cold air ghosted against your cunt, as your legs trembled.

"Corio.." You whined, you were embarrassed, the feeling of butterflies fluttering around your stomach, "I'm just enjoying my Christmas present, darling" He inched his face, whispering to your ear, as his fingers danced to your delicate petals inching to the bud. His fingers gradually inserted his digits into you, a strife of moans coming out of your lips, as you curved your back up in pleasure. His fingers pulling out of you unbearably slow and plunging back in making you tense up. The brutal pace made you break, your chest heaving as you tensed up at his fingers before his fingers picked up in pace, and it turned into a reckless frenzy. His fingers fucking you harshly, flickering your pearl.

A wanton of moans ripping out of your throat, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, his lips connecting to yours, his tongue exploring your cavern, leaning into the intense kiss. His fingers are still at work, fucking you harsily. You lifted your hips up for him to thrusting deeper into your pussy, withdrawing from the kiss, as you stared at Coriolanus with droopy eyes, your lips parting apart.

Turning your head away from him in embarrassment, "Don't look away from me, dove" He gently turns your head to him, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. Your body felt hot, sweat dripping off of your body. His fingers drove into your cunt, the sloshing sound of your slick, your body getting hotter. Feeling a hot wave of pleasure crashing onto you, curving your back up as your juices mixed with your slick, tensing up your hands against the sheets. Feeling his fingers leaving your cunt, covered in clear fluids. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment, "You made a mess" Coriolanus said, flickering your eyes at his frame, your hands taking his arm, surprising him. Placing his cum-coated fingers in your mouth, your tongue swirling against his fingertips, staring at him with doe eyes.

His eyes lit up with amusement, as you cleaned his fingers, pulling out his hands from your mouth, saliva coating his fingers. "Are you sure this is your first time, dove" He whispers with delight, you nod, "I want..to satisfy you, Corio" you mumble from your lips, "You are" he cups your cheek, "No..I want to pleasure you, please" your doe eyes looking at his cold eyes. His lips parted at your innocent appearance. Before you sat up, leading him down onto the large bed, your knee digging into the sheet as you pulled off his pants along with his boxers.

Feeling yourself swallowing at the size of his cock, as it strung up. The tip with an angry tip and is covered in colored veins.

Your hand slowly strokes it, your ears hearing groans slipping out of his mouth. Your fingers rub the tip. "Fuck, Y/N" he groans, "Is everything okay?" you questioned, feeling anxious that you're hurting him, "Yes, fuck" he muttered before you took his cock whole into your mouth, your tongue swirling the tip, hearing moans. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft, his moans getting louder, feeling his hands tangled in your hair, as you looked up at his trembling form.

His hand forced you down, making you gag. Tears pricking up on your waterline, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. As he face fucked you, salvia drooling down your chin, moaning against his touch. Feeling yourself getting wetter, your doe eyes look up.

His hands never leaving your hair as he forced you down before he released his load down your throat, the bitter-salty taste hitting your tongue. Feeling his cock soften in your mouth, withdrawing from him. "Did I do good" you cocked your head to the side, as he examined at you, making note of your half-naked form. His hands making contact with your cheek, as he caressed gently.

He just nodded as you looked at his member harden, as you crawled on top of his body. His hand makes its way on the top of your lingerie, taking it off, and discarding it. Placing your hands on his shoulder, feel his hand on your waist, as you lowered yourself down on his cock. Feeling searing pain in your lower abdomen, stifling a groan from your lips. You felt his hands on your hips dragging you down, bottoming himself, "it's too big... corio" you quivered, "Your doing so well, dove" he gently lift your chin up slightly, as you stared at him.

His hips gently thrust up into your cunt, making you shiver in delight, biting your lip down. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder making him groan, resting your head on his shoulder, adjusting to the pain. "I'm going to move, okay... Dove" he whispered, you nodded your head at the statement, before feeling his hands on the plush of your bottom, the slow-motion as he gripped your hips feeling his cock leaving you and his then lowering your hips down.

Tears prick on your waterline, biting your lips at the discomfort, his hands rubbing your waist. His hands picking up speed, picking and dropping you down on his cock, the gradually simmering moment of pain, turning into pleasure in your core, moans coming from your lips, throwing your head back in thrill. "Corio" you whined, his pelvis thrusting up. His cock rubbing at your cervix. Your body riding him, feeling addicted to his touch. "Corio–corio" your mouth chanting his name like a prayer, "I'm close..please" You were breathless, his cock slipping out of you and in. Feeling a wave of satisfaction crashing down on you, moans ripping out of you. The lewd sounds of your body mixing with his, your high-pitched moans ripping out your throat.

Feeling his cock leaving you, making you whine, "Lay down" he whispered, pecking your lips as you obey, laying down as he line up with you, pushing his cock into you, thrusting in and out of you, your this bouncing on impact, his hands pressing your legs down on your chest. "Fuck" he groans, his hands pressing your legs closer to you, into a missionary position. Feeling him deep inside you, "Corio–I'm close" you cried out, adjusting your arms around his neck.

His mouth connects to your neck, sucking the vulnerable flesh, you whined out on impact. "I'm close too" he grunted, his pace getting faster, the melody of slapping skin echoing through the room. "Inside please" you whispered, pulling Coriolanus closer to you, feeling your orgasm crashing down on you, moaning out.

Feeling his hot load filling you, his mouth crashing into you, moaning against him. The sensation of his cock dragging out of you, makes you whine. Sweat covers your body, cringing at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you. Your eyes hesitantly looking down, staring at the mess between your legs, light pink liquid dripping out of you.

"Merry Christmas, Corio" you exclaimed, your tired form not letting you stand up, discomfort ringing through your body. Your eyes flicker at the colored stained window, snow falling decorating the scene. Feeling the bed bending at his weight and leaning onto you, leaving a kiss on your lips, "Merry Christmas, my love"

315 notes · View notes

jennaispunk · 2 months ago

Text

Puppy Love

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Rating: E (it's fluff)

Word Count: 2.4 k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, established relationship, one brief mention of drug use (weed), brief allusion to smut, one tiny (bad) period joke, sweet!Dieter, no description of reader is given, if I missed anything let me know.

A/N: This fic was written for @bitchesuntitled, as a gift for the @dieterbravobrainrotclub Secret Santa Exchange. Happy Holidays, DD!! 💜 I hope you enjoy this little slice of Dieter fluff. Thanks to @sp00kymulderr for organizing.

moodboard by me. dividers and banner by @saradika-graphics

“Dee, please stop talking about that dog.”

You tilt your chin up and look at him. You swear he hasn’t shut up about that dog since filming wrapped. Somehow, this dog really made an impression on Dieter. You knew he was an animal lover, but this was bordering on obsession.

“I can’t help it, babe.” He huffs. “If you saw him, you would have fallen in love too.”

Dieter sighs. He doesn’t really know why but something about that dog just got to him. Maybe it was his story, or the way he looked at him. All Dieter knew was that he connected with Rolo instantly. That rescue Greyhound had left his mark on Dieter’s heart. He knew what it was like to be used and abandoned. No living creature should have to endure that. He’d spent every day since wishing he could have taken Rolo home and given him the life he deserved.

“I’m sure I would have, but you talk so much about him. I’m starting to get jealous.”

You can’t resist the temptation to tease him, but there is a silver a truth in your words.

“Jealous?” he smirks, rolling the two of you over and pinning you to the mattress. “You have nothing to be jealous of, babe. You’re a much better kisser than he is.”

He rolls his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You know exactly what he’s trying to do, and you love him to much for it not to work.

“Gee thanks.” You giggle. “You sure know how to make a girl feel so good about herself.”

His brow arches and he brings his face closer to yours. Your lips are millimeters from colliding, your breaths mingling.

“I’m about to make to make you feel so damn good.”

The twinkle of mischief dances in his eyes as his hand works its way under your sleep shirt.

You lay awake long after Dieter fell asleep, jealous of how easily he could drift off. It always took you forever to fall asleep, your mind always going into overdrive at the worst possible time, even after you’ve been thoroughly satisfied by the man you love.

Christmas was just around the corner and that was the reason for this bout of insomnia. Dieter had told you that gifts didn’t matter to him. He enjoyed spoiling you, and anything he wanted or needed he could get for himself anytime. Still, you wanted to do something special for him this year. To give him just a little of what he’s given you. What do you get a man who has everything? That question had you racking your brain for nights on end. Then it hit you. What better gift than a puppy? Not just any puppy, though. You had to figure out a way to get Rolo. That would be a Christmas present he would never forget.

The next morning, a quick Google search gives you the contact information for the rescue organization. You scroll through their website and find Rolo’s picture among the dozens of other adorable dogs in their care. The first step was going to be contacting them to see if Rolo is even available for adoption. If he wasn’t, all bets were off. You chew your bottom lip as you think of a way you can make the call without Dieter knowing.

“What ‘cha thinking about, babe?”

Your eyes snap to meet his. You clear your throat and close the webpage. Cocking your head to the side, you give him a cheeky grin.

“Breakfast.”

You surprise yourself with how quickly the word rolls off your tongue. Lying to Dieter was something you didn’t like doing, but it was necessary. A little white lie wouldn’t hurt. Anyway, he’d forgive you once he saw Rolo.

“Breakfast, huh?”

He raises his brow, not quite convinced but willing to let it go…for now.

“Yeah. How about I make us some of my famous French Toast? And Bacon?”

“You sure know the way to my heart, babe. I love your French Toast.”

You smile at him as you slip your phone into your pocket. Rising from the couch, you pad to the kitchen and begin gathering the ingredients.

Making the excuse of having to run errands, you head out into the bright California sun. Running errands wasn’t a complete lie, you did need a few things. Stopping at Starbucks, you order your favorite drink and find an empty table. This is the perfect place to organize your thoughts and get a plan together away from Dieter’s nosy self. You pull out your phone and call the rescue.

“Thank you for calling Tails Rescue. This is Mandy speaking, how can I help you?”

You relay the situation to the girl on the other end and breathe a sigh of relief when she tells you Rolo is available for adoption. The adoption manager is available this afternoon and Mandy sets up a time for you to meet Rolo and talk details.

You’re smiling like a fool as you disconnect the call. Dieter is going to be so excited on Christmas morning. The look on his face is going to be priceless.

The second you lay eyes on Rolo in person you know exactly why Dieter fell in love with him. He’s a little shy at first, but within a few minutes, he is laying his head in your lap and looking up at you with a slightly dopey expression. Rolo’s mannerisms and sweet face are too much to resist, much like Dieter himself. This one-eyed Greyhound with beautiful brindle markings has completely stolen your heart, just like Dieter said he would.

There’s a bounce in your step as you walk back to your car. This dog is going to be the perfect addition to your lives. The only thing is your going to need some help in pulling this off. You need somewhere to store all the things you need to buy for Rolo: food, toys and a comfortable bed. There’s nowhere in your apartment to hide those things without Dieter finding them. He’s a notorious snooper and always finds your gifts for him, no matter where you hide them. Luckily, you know just who to call.

Walking back into the apartment, you drop your bags on the dining room table. Dieter immediately starts rifling through the bags to see what you brought home.

“Hey, nosey. Get out of there.” you tease. You reach out and slowly pull the bag away from him.

“Come on, babe. Is there anything in there for me?”

He wiggles his brow at you and reaches out for the bag, pulling it back over to him.

“Not this time. Unless you’re about to start your period soon.”

You smirk at him and wink. He huffs at you and begins rifling through the bag again, undeterred by your little joke.

When he finds nothing in the first bag that interests him, he sets to work on the second bag.

“Really, babe?” he asks. “More lights for the Christmas Tree? Are you afraid Santa won’t remember where you live?”

You slap his arm as you giggle. The way he says it makes part of you wonder if he still believes in Santa Claus.

“These are to replace the ones you broke last week. You ate too many of Luke’s special brownies and you spent hours trying to make the colors change, remember?”

The string lights you had on the tree weren’t color changing but Dieter, in his inebriated state, had tried for hours to get them to change, destroying them in the process. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you came home and found him.

He chuckles softly and nods, preoccupied with the other contents of your shopping bag.

“I thought you’d like these. They’re color changing and they even come with a remote.”

That’s enough to get his attention and he picks up the box. Examining the box, he studies the different settings and patterns that he can try out.

You snatch the box and playfully narrow your eyes at him. It probably was a bad idea to buy color changing lights, but you hope he won’t make you regret it.

“No playing with the lights while you’re high, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” he mumbles, snatching the box back from you.

He turns the box over in his hands, examining it once more. His brow furrows and he looks up at you.

“These say ‘chew proof’. Who the fuck is going to chew on our Christmas lights?”

You shrug and walk over to hang your purse on the hook.

“I didn’t even notice that. I just thought the color changing effects were cool.”

You grab an item from your purse and present it to Dieter, hoping to distract him.

“I got you a Kit Kat. King size for my king.”

You raise your brows at him then lean in to kiss his cheek.

Christmas was just a week away and you had been so busy. Between decorating the apartment, buying gifts to ship to your sister and her family and making sure everything was ready for Rolo’s arrival, you felt like you barely had any time to yourself. All you wanted was a nice hot bubble bath and maybe an edible to help you relax.

Everything was all set for Rolo’s big debut. All the things your new addition would need were safely stored at your best friend’s house. You made arrangements to pick Rolo up from the rescue on Christmas Eve and he would stay with her overnight. She’d bring Rolo to you early Christmas morning and then Dieter would get the surprise of his life.

Dieter was out having dinner with his agent, and you had the apartment to yourself. You dip into your stash and shed your clothes as you head to the bathroom. As you wait for the water to reach the perfect temperature, you turn on some soft music. This is just what you need to de-stress. With the tub now full, you drop in your favorite bath bomb and sink into the steaming water with a contented sigh.

You slip out on Christmas Eve under the pretense of visiting your best friend to exchange the little gifts you had for each other. After your visit, you head to the shelter and pick up Rolo. Getting him all set up in his temporary home, you head back home to Dieter.

Christmas was a big deal for Dieter. He never had a traditional Christmas growing up. His parents were barely present and his Christmases as a child were meager at best. This was your third Christmas together, and the two of you had started your own traditions. He was waiting for you when you got home, already in his Christmas pajamas and the Chinese food spread out of the coffee table. The living room lights had been dimmed and the lights on the tree glowed, casting blue and purple shadows on the wall in almost an ethereal pattern.

You quickly changed into your Christmas pajamas and met him on the couch. You each silently made a Christmas wish before you ate. Once dinner was done and dishes were cleared, you settled back onto the couch for your Christmas movie marathon: Christmas Vacation for him, It’s A Wonderful Life for you. Dieter wrapped the blanket around you as you snuggled into his chest.

Six A.M. on Christmas morning, you slowly creep out of bed, careful not to disturb Dieter as he snores lightly. He rolls over and you freeze in your tracks, holding your breath. You exhale softly when he doesn’t wake up and you make your way to the door.

Your best friend arrives right on time, and you thank her profusely for all her help. You get Rolo’s things tucked into the living room and put on his brand new collar, complete with a name tag and a big red bow.

“Welcome home, Rolo.” You whisper as you lightly scratch his chin.

“Let’s go wake him up, huh? He’s going to shit himself when he sees you.”

The two of you head back into the bedroom and you watch Dieter for a moment. You almost hate to disturb his peaceful sleep, but you can’t wait another moment to give him his gift.

“All right, buddy.” you whisper. “Go say hi.”

You hold your breath as Rolo pads over to the bed and softly nudges Dieter’s arm.

“It’s too early to be fooling around, babe.” he groans and rolls over, away from you.

You stifle a giggle and silently urge Rolo to try waking Dieter up once again.

Rolo appears undeterred and sticks his cold nose right on Dieter’s bare back. You erupt into a fit of laughter as Dieter bots upright.

“What the fuck!”

His hands rake down his face as he tries to get his bearings. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and is greeted by an enthusiastic nuzzle.

“Rolo! Hey boy!”

Dieter lovingly strokes Rolo’s head and neck. His mouth is slightly agape as he turns his wide eyes to you.

“Babe…what?…is this real?”

Seeing Dieter so happy makes your heart swell and your vision blurs with unshed tears. His reaction is even better than you had hoped.

“Yeah babe,” you answer softly. “It’s real.”

He leaps from the bed and sweeps you into his arms. He squeezes you tight, lifting your feet off the ground. Your giggles fill the room, and Rolo bounds around you in a circle at the commotion.

“This is the best Christmas ever. I can’t believe you did this for me. Thank you.”

His lips softly brush against yours as his fingers tangle in your hair. Your lips move in tandem, languid movements; there’s no rush, just the physical manifestation of love.

“You’re welcome.” you whisper softly against his lips, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” he echoes. “I’ll make sure I properly thank you tonight.”

He wiggles his brows and smirks. His hips gently rock against yours, as if you were oblivious to his meaning. Dieter was never one for subtlety.

“Mmmm…I’m going to hold you to that.”

Your fingers run the length of his stubbled jaw. The quiet chuckle that you elicit vibrates between the two of you.

The peace around you shatters as he grabs your hand and yanks you toward the living room, almost making you lose your balance in his haste to get you moving.

“Come on. I can’t wait for you to open your gifts from me.”

#puppy love #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #fluff #the dieter bravo brainrot club #secret santa fun

61 notes · View notes

shinne55 · 3 months ago

Text

**Silent Confession**

Victor Grantz x Reader

Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.

Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.

It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.

During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.

Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.

The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.

The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.

And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.

On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.

During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.

His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.

**To the postman

Thank you for your hard work**

No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.

Was that it? A letter for him?

A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.

That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.

The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.

**Dear postman

I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**

The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.

Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.

A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.

**To the Dear Postman Victor**

He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.

Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:

**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**

Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:

**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**

No more letters arrived.

Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?

For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.

He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.

“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”

*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.

Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.

**[Who is she?]**

It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.

**[YN]**

**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.

“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”

He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:

**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**

The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.

“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”

Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.

He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.

*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.

Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.

Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.

And even if they had never met before—

“Hello?”

He wanted to be by her side.

What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?

“Victor?”

As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.

You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.

When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.

“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.

“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.

**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**

“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”

You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.

His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.

“I… like you.”

No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.

“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”

Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.

He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.

Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.

**To YN, from Victor.**

**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**

“Victor…” You clutched the letter.

He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.

**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**

The letter ended there.

“But what is it that you want?”

He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.

“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”

He wrote something else in his notebook:

**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**

You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.

**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**

You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.

In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.

#victor grantz x reader #idv postman #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv x you #identity v

78 notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 6 months ago

Note

hello!! i’ve been reading you’re gale fics and i stumbled across the one where they meet once he goes back to school! i loved it so much and was wondering if you could do a part 2 kind of on their relationship once they officially become a couple?

hi, darling! thank you for your request! 🎀 I really like this story because it's different than usual Gale fics 😊 in this part they are apart for the summer holidays and they miss each other meanwhile her mum wants her to meet her son's friend who is closer to Reader's age and all that and then Gale shows up to visit because he's been missing his girl 😌

[ PART ONE ]

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Your relationship with Gale was going steady and everyone seemed to be interested in it, which was giving you both more attention than usual. You weren’t a very social couple and yet everyone wanted to talk to you all of a sudden as they hoped you would answer some questions that they had about him. Who he was, where had he come from, why did he have those scars on his face… You were only smiling gently at those people and trying to avoid answering such questions.

Your roommate Kathy and her boyfriend Jack were the only two people you talked to about such things – although you were still quite angry at Jack for looking into Gale’s personal documents to find out about his past. But since he had already known it anyway, there was no point of lying in front of him or avoiding the subject anyway.

With time people eventually gave up and let you go, disappointed about not getting many answers to their nosy questions. Thankfully, everything went back to the old ways and you were quite invisible again and so was Gale because everyone just had gotten used to him being around and remaining a little mystery. Also, someone had spread a rumour already about him being a pilot from the war. You had a nasty feeling it was Jack but you didn’t want to ask him because you didn’t want to fight with him and Kathy. Gale had assured you it was fine – after all, the new rumour was believable enough for the other, less pleasant rumours to stop. And most people were satisfied with this information about him without asking any further questions.

The semester was slowly coming to an end and you were sitting under a tree in the park, enjoying the warm weather with your head on Gale’s shoulder. Both of you were reading books for your upcoming exams and you were chewing on a pen but your thoughts were getting distracted.

“How will you spend your summer holidays?” You asked him, all of the sudden.

Gale looked down at you with a furrowed brow as he chuckled.

“I’m gonna visit my family for some time but then I’m gonna come back here, I think,” he answered. “And you? Going back to your family, I assume?” He asked and you nodded, anxiously.

“I’m gonna be out for the whole summer,” you explained. “But now… Now I’m thinking I should perhaps only go there for a month and spend the second one here with you?”

“I don’t want to keep you away from your family, love,” Gale smiled gently and caressed your cheek with his fingertip.

“And what are you gonna do here without me around?” You crossed your arms after closing your book loudly.

“Same as always,” Gale shrugged his arms. “Same as I was doing before we started seeing each other,” he explained.

“But you’re going to miss me, right?” You bit on your lower lip.

“Of course,” Gale shook his head and kissed the top of your head. “I’m going to call you and send you letters,” he assured you as he squeezed your arm. “You’re going to miss me, too, right?”

“Right,” you nodded with a shy smile but you looked away.

You couldn’t help an awful feeling that you would miss him more than he would miss you. Gale was a mystery to everyone but to you as well sometimes – he was a stoic and demure man, which was understandable because of his past and his age but… Sometimes you wished he would be more open with his feelings.

Gale took you to the train station on the day of your departure back home and he was standing on the platform and waving his hand after you as you were staring through the window and waving back. It was like in that song Love In Vain and for some reason you couldn’t help but feel sad and nostalgic about this farewell even though you would be back in two months.

But would everything be the same between you two then? It was hard to believe.

It didn’t help that at home everyone seemed to question your relationship. You expected everyone to be excited about you finally finding a partner and about him being a mature man who was a war hero but apparently everyone had some problem with that.

“What does he look like?” Your sister wanted to know. You sighed at her shallowness but you tried not to get angry because she was only a teenager. You took out the picture that Kathy had taken of you and Gale inside the library. “Why does he look like this?” Your sister asked.

“What are you talking about? He’s handsome!” You protested and she took the picture from your hands to take a closer look.

“The scars on his cheeks…”

“Well, he was in the war,” you reminded her with an eye roll, getting annoyed already at her comment.

“I don’t know… He looks stiff and sad,” she handed you the picture back.

“War does terrible things to men. Are you sure he’s, you know, right in the head?” Your father squinted his eyes at you as he lowered his newspaper. He only took a brief look at the picture and cleared his throat.

“Gale is perfectly fine in the head,” you clenched your jaw and looked at your mother, hoping she would back you up on that but she sighed instead.

“Why couldn’t you find yourself a boy your age, darling? And what is he even doing right now? Are you sure he is not flirting with other girls? Women his age, I mean?” She put her hands on her hips.

“Gale is not like that…” You started but you knew how pathetic that sounded like. Every woman who had been cheated on had probably used the same words. Your mother shook her head and muttered something to herself before walking out of the room to check on the pie in the oven.

You were growing insecure because of their words and comments. You sent Gale a letter in which you assured him of your love and you also added how much you missed him. You hoped to remind him about your devotion.

Not long after, your mother came up with a great plan of setting up a date for you with her friend’s son. You had been refusing that many times because how could you worry about Gale cheating on you while going out on a date yourself? Your mother’s friend and her son were invited to dinner at your place once and you even said it to his face that you had a boyfriend but he didn’t seem to be discouraged.

He was quite handsome, that boy. His name was Bobby and he was only slightly older. He had just finished his education and he was going to settle down in your hometown and start his own business. He had a bright future ahead of him due to his confidence and his father’s money.

Everyone kept insisting on you going out with him to the point you just had to agree but you kept repeating over and over that it was definitely not a date – just a meeting with a friend.

Bobby took you to the restaurant and ordered meals for you both without even letting you take a look at the menu.

“I just know what you’re going to love. Everyone loves it. My father knows the owner and it’s their best meal,” he assured you sweetly but you did not like his behaviour anyway. You decided not to comment on that, though.

“Thank you,” you only answered as your mother would expect you to.

“So, when are you graduating?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I still have two years to get a Bachelor degree,” you explained. “And so does Gale.”

“Why are you so pressed about getting that degree, hm? You have that… Gale already,” he winced a little at the mention of the name. “Most girls only go to college to meet their husband.”

“Gale is not my husband yet,” you straightened yourself but you felt your heart pounding at the mention of such possibility. It filled your whole body with butterflies. “And even if he was, I would still want that degree and I know that Gale would support me in that. He knows how important it is for me. I haven’t worked so hard to get to college just to resign because of a man,” you explained and Bobby rolled his eyes.

“And what is he even doing there?” Bobby asked. “How old is he?”

“He’s going to be thirty in two years,” you answered and Bobby whistled.

“And he’s wasting time on getting degrees instead of starting something for himself?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“He is not wasting time, he is getting a degree! And I know already he will want more than just a Bachelor. All the professors praise him, too,” you answered. “I’m sure he’s gonna get a Masters or even a PhD.”

“Degrees are not for everyone. I mean, not everyone has to have one. We need simple workers, too. And if I was his age, I would try to catch up on the time I lost and go to work. He should accept the fact that his chance to get properly educated is already–” Bobby started and you widened your eyes at his rudeness.

“He was in the war, for God’s sake, Bobby! He was fighting in Europe so you could be safe here and study yourself… How can you not be grateful for that?” You shook your head.

“Was he? Your mother told my mother that your Gale had spent over a year in the camp for the prisoners of war,” Bobby scoffed. “That’s hardly fighting.”

“You have no idea what he’s been through,” you snapped back and then the waiter brought the food to your table so you smiled at him and took your plate.

Just like you had been expecting, the food was awful. You only ate a little bit and watched Bobby devour his whole plate.

“You know, our mothers would like us to get married. For you to drop out of college and become my wife,” he told you between one bite and another. You felt your guts turning inside out at that.

“Thankfully, we don’t agree with that, do we?” You looked him up and down and Bobby shrugged his arms.

“Thought you would do, but your brain’s already filled with… ideas. That’s why I’m against women going to colleges,” he explained.

“What ideas?” You wondered out loud. “I don't mind becoming a wife and a mother one day. I just want a degree first,” you explained.

“Yeah… All that talk. Sorry, I don’t buy it,” he chuckled.

The rest of the meal went pretty quiet. Bobby paid for it and he walked you home as the sun was slowly setting down. He insisted on walking you up to the front door of your house, so you knocked upon them and waited there awkwardly in silence.

When your mother opened the door, she looked pretty uncomfortable and… scared? You wondered what had happened. You expected her to be overjoyed and ask a million questions about your “date”.

Then, your heart skipped a beat when you spotted a familiar person standing behind her… It was Gale.

“Your boyfriend paid you a visit,” she whispered at you and you met his gaze.

Gale approached you and you nearly gasped to have him so close again. You nearly forgot how handsome he was in real life. His baby blue eyes were even sadder than usual, though, and you knew why. He turned to extend his hand towards Bobby.

“Nice to meet you. Gale,” he introduced himself, classy as always.

“N-nice to meet you, sir. Bobby. I mean, Robert,” Bobby shook his hand and you would laugh at that if you weren’t so scared of Gale witnessing that boy walking you home in the evening. Your dress, your makeup, your hair… It was obvious there had been some sort of a date going on between you two.

“Thank you for entertaining my girl and being such a gentleman to walk her back home,” Gale told him and Bobby looked away anxiously.

“No problem… We just had dinner together, that’s it…” He explained.

“Yeah!” Your mother added. “Told you, Mr. Cleven, they’re just friends,” she nodded eagerly and you furrowed your brows at her.

“Well, thank you for tonight, Bobby. It was nice,” you smiled fakely at the boy and you took Gale by his hand to walk inside the house with him.

Your mother said goodnight to Bobby and closed the door behind him as you and Gale were standing awkwardly together in the hall.

“We are all in the living room, getting to know your boyfriend better,” your mother explained to you as she put her hand on your shoulder and smiled nervously at Gale. “Mr. Cleven wanted to surprise you because he was missing you so much. You’re going to sleep with your sister tonight, I prepared her bedroom for Mr. Cleven to sleep in.”

You only nodded at that. Your father walked out of the living room and hurried Gale to come back to them because he was very interested in some story from the war. You let go of Gale’s hand and watched him walk away before you followed your mother inside the kitchen.

She was slicing a pie when she looked up at you with guilt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” She whispered. “I didn’t know he would come… Obviously, I wouldn’t make you go on that date with Bobby if–”

“It was not a date,” you interrupted her. “And it was awful. Bobby is not a good man. Why did you change your mind about Gale, though?” You furrowed your brow at her.

“Seeing him in real life, I mean… He is a very kind man and you can just… You can just feel that he’s good,” she sighed. “And much more handsome than in the picture,” she smiled nervously at you. “I’m glad that you have him and–”

“It’s too late for that,” you interrupted her again. “And God only knows if I still have him,” your lower lip trembled but you moved away when she approached you to give you a hug. Shaking your head, you walked out of the kitchen and you sniffled your tears back before joining the rest in the living room.

You sat next to Gale on the sofa with a soft smile. Your father was occupying an armchair and listening to Gale’s story with nothing but pure interest on his face. Your sister was sitting on the armrest of his armchair and listening as well even though girls like her were usually not into war stories.

You watched your family fall for Gale for the rest of the evening while you kept sitting there and worrying if you weren’t losing him in the meantime. Knowing how awkward the situation currently was, your father didn’t even ask him any serious questions about the nature of your relationship.

When the clock struck midnight, everyone decided to go to bed. Gale was especially tired after his train ride. You went to the bathroom first and took a quick shower before getting into your nightgown. Gale was a gentleman and he allowed your sister to take a shower before him but when they were talking about it in the corridor, you hid inside your bedroom. You sat on the bed, remembering to make space for your sister, too.

A slight knock upon your door made you look up anxiously. You knew it was Gale and your heart became a lump in your throat.

“C-come in,” you whispered.

He opened the door shyly and walked inside, looking around with a soft smile at the sight of your room.

“I finally have you for myself for a short while,” he said and approached your bed. You noticed that he left the door to your room ajar – such a gentleman, always.

“You don’t know my sister, Gale. It won’t be a short while. Her quick shower is at least half an hour long,” you chuckled and he smiled at that.

“Can I sit next to you?” He asked and blushed a little.

“You don’t have to ask me such things,” you moved slightly to make more space.

“Don’t I?” He took a seat next to you and looked deep into your eyes. You opened your mouth to answer but he continued. “Listen, I understand. I am older than you and I am not exactly… I am not exactly the happiest person, I have a past… I understand, I really do. And I am not angry, I would never be angry at you but… You could have written that to me. I just don’t understand the lies. At that, I am a little angry but I’m trying not to be, I assume you were scared of hurting or rejecting me,” Gale’s voice broke a little and so did your heart because he had misunderstood everything so awfully and yet… He was so kind and gentle about it. So understanding. “You sounded so sad in your letter; that you missed me and that you… That you… That you loved me,” his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to come here and make sure you were alright. I’ve been missing you like crazy… And… Yeah, you could have just written to me that you met someone else.”

“Gale…” His name was all you managed to let out in a broken whisper. You caught his trembling hands into yours and squeezed them, trying to pour all of your love into him in this small gesture. “Gale, it’s not like this… Please, believe me,” you started. “Bobby is the son of my mum’s friend and they wanted us to date despite me telling them I have you already. They were very pushy and I agreed to have dinner with him. It was not a date, though, and it was awful,” you cracked a smile through your own tears. “I don’t want to ever see him again, in fact. He was rude and we don’t share the same beliefs or ideology. But even if we did and if he was kind, he would only become my friend and nothing else. Because I already have a boyfriend and I am happy with him and proud of him and…” You shook your head and gasped, trying to find the right words. “And if you don’t believe me, I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Short silence occurred. Gale blinked away all of his tears and his lips finally curled up in a soft smile. You loved that genuine, loving smile on his face. You let go of his hands to cup his cheeks and caress his scars with your thumbs.

“I believe you, my love, why wouldn’t I?” He asked quietly. “It didn’t make sense to me why would you lie in your letters anyway. It didn’t seem like my girl at all,” he admitted.

“I am. I am your girl,” you nodded to assure him and you pulled his face down to join your foreheads together. “And I would never lie to you like that. I would never break your heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he pecked your lips.

“Ugh,” your sister’s sigh made you both move away from each other and look up at her. “I can go to my room. Mom will not notice,” she told you.

“No, no,” Gale shook his head and stood up. “I am leaving for the night now.”

Sometimes, you hated what a gentleman he was.

“Goodnight, girls,” he winked at you and squeezed your sister’s arm before leaving the room.

“Do you share a room together in college?” Your sister asked when she laid on the other side of your bed.

“No!” You felt your cheeks heating up. “Girls have their own dormitories and boys have their own,” you explained and laid down next to her before turning the small lamp by your bed off.

“I didn’t know… But that makes sense,” she admitted and moved closer to you. “Do you think I will go to college, too? Is it fun?”

“It’s very fun. And I hope you will go,” you kissed her forehead. “You just have to keep getting good grades,” you assured her.

“And do you think I’m going to meet a nice man like Gale there?”

“Oh, dear,” you laughed softly. “I hope so. But a man like him is one in a million.”

“You must miss him terribly when you’re here and he’s there,” she sighed.

“I am. And you know what? Tomorrow, I might go back with him,” you told her as you made this decision inside your head this very moment. You didn’t have to see her face to know that she was sad about it. “You can go with me if mom and dad agree. My roommate is with her family so I have space in my room,” you assured her and rubbed her arm. “And now go to sleep, little one.”

You tried to fall asleep, too, but you could only think of Gale being in the room next to yours, in your little sister’s pink bedroom. You chuckled at the thought.

When her breath was steady and you were sure that she had fallen asleep, you carefully slid out of the covers and you tip-toed to her bedroom where Gale was. He was tossing and turning when you entered and you thought that he couldn’t fall asleep either but no, you quickly realised that he was having a nightmare. He had told you about them before but you had never witnessed them yourself.

“Gale…” You touched him gently, scared of what he might do when he suddenly wakes up. However, you didn’t want him to be tormented in his sleep anymore. “Gale…”

He opened his eyes and sat up, breathing heavily. You turned the small lamp on your sister’s bedside table and you sat on the edge of the bed to cup his sweaty face. His eyes were widened and he looked like he couldn’t recognise you or the place – but the second part was quite understandable.

“Baby, it’s me,” you cooed sweetly. “You’re at my place, in my sister’s bedroom,” you told him. “You’re safe,” you added to assure him and you felt his muscles relaxing.

“Was I… Was I loud?” He asked and rubbed his face with his hand.

“No, darling, I just sneaked out of my room to lay with you for a while but I saw you were having a nightmare,” you admitted and Buck looked at you in a funny way – nearly as if he was scolding you. You giggled a bit at that and fixed his ruffled hair. “Well, I don’t have to lay here if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he pulled you closer by your waist and you ended up laying on his chest. He hugged you tightly and you hugged him back as his fingers played with your hair. “I just didn’t expect you to be such a little rebel.”

“There’s still a lot about me for you to learn, Mr. Cleven,” you teased.

“I can’t wait,” he whispered in all seriousness before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*buck #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

107 notes · View notes

jjungkookislife · 1 year ago

Text

Quarterly Fic Rec List 2023 #4

Hello! This is the last list of 2023! These are the wonderful fics I ended my year with! I hope you enjoy them! If anyone would like to be removed from this list; please let me know! As always each of these fics has its own content warnings, and most, if not all are 18+ so Minors Do Not Interact!

Seokjin

daydream @joonie-beanie

summary: Your literature professor has a bit of a…gift. A gift that let’s him see other peoples thoughts when he wants to. And despite the fact that he warns his class openly about this gift, one day you forget, and find yourself in a bit of pickle when Kim Seokjin reads your mind, and finds you imagining some not so school appropriate scenarios…involving him.

pink panther @gimmesumsuga

summary: The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are

9 months to fall in love @floralseokjin

summary: It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in. Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it. Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

dream come true @sugaurora

summary: Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

whole @yoongiphoria

Yoongi

can't afford love @dollfaceksj

summary: Your childhood dream of having 2 children in a big house with a blooming marriage by this point in time has been eliminated the moment divorce came knocking at your door. With only one child and finding yourself back at square one, you ask your ex-husband—Min Yoongi—if he’d be down to fulfill 1 of these 3 things on your childhood’s bucket-list. And no, it’s not giving you a big house.

u suck !! @kithtaehyung

summary: Jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume.

three tangerines ^

summary: throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart.

broken pt. 1 ^

summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell.

ghostface killers @gimmethatagustd

summary: You’ve had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn’t know is that he’s had his eyes on you, too.

red & white @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: you and yoongi have something to share this holiday

Hoseok

spookie coochie @gimmethatagustd

summary: The only monster Hoseok wishes you were interested in finding this Halloween season is his monster c–

drink champagne in my airplane @bangtanintotheroom

summary: Your friend Hoseok decided to use his excessive wealth for good and take the both of you on a much-needed vacation. The flight was meant to be relaxing until he broke out one of his most expensive bottles of champagne.

a holly, jolly crisis @kpopfanfictrash

summary: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

12 lays of christmas @minisugakoobies

summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

it's a promise @sahmfanficbts

arranged marriage au

Namjoon

close, closer, closest @augustbutwinter

summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven’t met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn’t.

make an effort @7ndipity

summary: When you ask Joon to be your fake boyfriend, he ends up finding out about your very real crush on him. Luckily for you, the feeling’s mutual.

a word from our sponsors @ugh-yoongi

summary: you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

Jimin

cloud nine @suga-kookiemonster

summary: “he’s here again,” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot--devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room.

menace @eoieopda

summary: Far and away the worst of your brother’s friends, you added Park Jimin’s presence in your life to the long list of grievances you held against Seokjin. Too bad you can’t keep your hands off him.

crescent bound @parkhabits

summary: One night you’re having the best hookup of your life and the next you’re being told that the little mark on your neck is more than just a hickey and that Park Jimin was more than you expected too.

the dark side of the moon @dovechim

summary: falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes.

a remedy for mondays ^

summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

heavy petting @kittae

summary: Your boyfriend is not just a cat hybrid, he’s also very needy! When you come home from work and you expect him to be all over you, you’re fairly disappointed to find he prefers a nap over some well-deserved quality time. You’ll make sure to pay him back for that.

the devil in his details @johobi

summary: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it’s a 5′8″ pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you’re the form you want him to come in.

me, you, and this thing we have between us @boymeetsweevil

summary: You’re pregnant and jimin is…happy about it

devil's advocate @7cypher

summary: You had met the devil on a hot summer day. He had shown up in a red polo, red cap, and white sneakers on his feet. That day, you had invited your devil into your home and he hasn’t left since.

no strings @kpopfanfictrash

summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

the ten days of ex-mas @kpopfanfictrash

summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling. Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Taehyung

midnight @sailoryooons

summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes.

the holi-date @kpopfanfictrash

summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

of lace and lust @hobidreams

summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.

hush @suga-kookiemonster

summary: four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?

rotten angelcake @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

sausade @kimvvantae

summary: no one is born to be alone and no one can be complete in oneself - that’s why, in this world, every person has a pair, someone that complements their soul in every aspect. you, however, are an exception to the rule, for the mark on your wrist indicates that your pair has passed away way before you were born.

kinda hot @kimnjss

summary: you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

Jungkook

jungkook drabble @euphoricfilter

summary: obsessed gf m/c and equally as obsessed boyfriend jungkook. he’s the light of her life, and she’s the reason he smiles

blessed with a curse @sweetestofchaos

summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them.

seasons don't fear the reaper @augustbutwinter

summary: life is short, they say. one day everyone meets their death, they say. how often can you meet yours before he takes you with him?

because i love you ch. 13 @readyplayerhobi

summary: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

a holiday snowdown @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.

all grown up @btsgotjams27

summary: A family reunion brings back the young boy you grew up with. Though he wasn’t the doe-eyed boy you once knew, he stood in front of you all grown up.

this is us ^

summary: you start to fall hard for jungkook.

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror ch. 2 @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

the gentlemen @honeymoonjin

summary: Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

of storms and vampires @wishesunderthestars

summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn’t simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook’s sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

oh, little red @jincherie

summary: You knew they warned you about that path for a reason, you knew you shouldn’t take it as a shortcut. You knew, but you were running late, and you did it anyway. Oh, little red, just what have you gotten yourself into?

Ateez

Seonghwa

let me keep you warm @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: “Are you cold?” “A little bit but I’ll be okay.” “Come here, let’s get you all warmed up.”

#jjungkookislife fic rec list #jjungkookislife fic rec masterlist #jjungkookislife fic recs

254 notes · View notes

writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

Text

when you know, you know

Read on AO3

Word Count: 7,169

Rating: T (just some smooches)

Summary: You and Garreth Weasley aren't on speaking terms, not since you were caught stealing billywig stings for him and subsequently banned from Honeydukes.

But the dawn of your sixth year brings a potion brewing contest, and you might finally have a chance to put him in his place.

A/N: Happy first birthday, Hogwarts Legacy! The HL discord server I'm in came up with the theme of One Year Later, and this is my submission. Thankful for all the lovely people I've met through this fandom, who encourage me to write every day <3

“Welcome to your sixth year of potions,” Professor Sharp says gruffly, leaning against his desk. “I hope you’re all prepared to start exploring the theories of potion composition, and have read the first five chapters of your textbook over the summer holidays as instructed.”

Sebastian groans next to you, flipping open his book. You snort, craning your neck around the room to assess your classmates.

Everett, Sacharissa, Andrew, Nastai, Poppy, and Grace–all of them still have the post-summer slump, faces glum as they wished to be free of the potions dungeon. At the station next to you, Leander looks ready to fall asleep. He was practically using his fingers to keep his eyeballs open during the double potions period.

Next to Leander, you can’t help noticing Garreth Weasley. It's unusual to see him so engaged; Garreth is normally the class clown, always trying to figure out a way to disrupt the lesson. Instead, he’s sitting stick straight, scribbling every word Sharp had to say. His notes were neatly organized, ingredients for the day’s brew already portioned out and chopped.

“What’s gotten into Weasley?” you whisper to Sebastian.

Sebastian scoffs. “Oh, he’s probably trying to get on Sharp’s good side, with the potion making contest coming up.”

“What contest?” You ask, albeit a bit too loud.

“I was just getting to that point,” Sharp says your name; the entire class had turned their attention to the two of you. Even Garreth was staring, despite the iciness between the two of you. It’s been months since you last spoke, exchanging choice words in a shouting match after he’d gotten you banned from Honeydukes. After all, he was the one who’d assured you Mr. Flume wouldn’t be home, and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to steal the billywig stings.

Nevermind that, you think, turning your attention back to Sharp’s lecture.

“Every year, I challenge the sixth year class to create a new potion,” Sharp drawls. “Many of the students who’ve won in the past have gone on to become some of the Hogwarts’s most successful potioneers. The winner of the contest will receive after hours access to the potions classroom, unlimited usage of the ingredient cupboard, and their name included on the plaque in the trophy room.” he explains.

Sharp continues droning on about the rules; you feel Sebastian’s breath tickle your ear “Garreth’s been assuming he’ll win since we were second years,” he whispers. “I’d love to see you put him in his place.”

You swat at the freckled brunette, who lets out another audible chuckle. Scanning the room again, your eyes briefly make contact with Garreth’s. He looks at you with something fierce in his eyes; it’s almost threatening, you think. He also looks a tad bit deflated, but considering the two of you aren’t friends anymore, you don’t really care to know why.

“Sure, I’ll enter.” You say loudly enough for Garreth to hear. “I’m sure it’ll be a clean sweep.”

Garreth’s eyes turn to slits before he refocuses on his notes. His face is turning red as he scribbles on the parchment, and you can’t help feeling a bit satisfied at his reaction. Suits him right, you think, for being such a coward. You’re going to kick his ass and get back for the ten detentions he bought you last year.

Sharp’s NEWT level class is just as painful as you’d imagined it would be. Sacharissa nearly slices her own finger off trying to cut open a sopophorous bean, and Everett faints from the blood. Andrew sends his own bean flying across the room, thwacking Natty in the forehead; it incites a verbal altercation that has the two nearly come to blows before Sharp can separate them. You and Sebastian can’t help but laugh watching them, falling dreadfully behind in your own quest to brew a draught of living death.

“Look at those prats,” Sebastian nudges you.

You look over at the two redheads adjacent to you–they’re working diligently, ignoring the dramatics of the classroom. Garreth is clearly guiding the process, Leander eagerly observing him as he chops and stirs. They’re the only two students in the classroom even remotely close to brewing the potion correctly, and it’s a little surprising to you that Garreth would be so tame.

He tilts his head, copper colored hair falling in front of his eyes. His hair is longer, shaggier than last year. You also can’t ignore how much larger his forearms are, probably from detentions spent lifting the cauldrons to and from the storage room. They’re thick and freckled, a dusting of hair—

Garreth turns his head, glaring at you. You’ve been blatantly staring at him for a whole minute now.

“Oi, get it together, woman.” Sebastian chides, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “I don’t think your cauldron is supposed to be purple—“

“Dammit!” You curse, turning back to your own brew. . Sebastian laughs as you thwack him on the shoulder, stirring your potion. It’s no good–the brew has turned the wrong color, and now resembles a fudgy texture.

“So much for winning the competition,” Sebastian teases you. Your face heats up with embarrassment as Sharp walks over to your cauldron, assessing your work.

“Better luck next time, I suppose.” Sharp says gruffly, raising his eyebrows at the thick goop.

As expected, Garreth and Leander win the day’s best brew. It takes twice as long as usual for you to scrub your cauldron, cheeks red from both embarrassment and the extra elbow grease you have to put in. Sebastian, despite his promises to stay as long as he can, has already abandoned you to get to lunch ahead of the rush. At this rate, you’ll miss lunch entirely.

“You should really throw some ashwinder eggshells in there.”

Looking up, you see Garreth standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. In lieu of the traditional blazer, he’s gone a bit casual with a crimson and gold Gryffindor sweater. It looks a tad tight on him, and well worn. Likely a hand-me-down from one of his many older brothers, you think.

“Mixed with water, they’re quite abrasive. It’ll help with the cleaning.” Garreth suggests, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder.

“So, we’re talking again.” your tone is flippant; you scrub even harder at the baked in potion caking your cauldron.

Garreth rolls his eyes, dropping his bag to the ground. “Let me help,” he says gruffly, elbowing you out of the way. He takes a handful of ashwinder eggshells, sprinkling it into your cauldron. You peer over the edge as he dribbles water inside.

“Now put on your dragonhide gloves,” Garreth advises. “Don’t want to get burned, do you?”

You do as instructed, slipping the gloves on. Garreth hands you the wire brush again, and this time the sludge slides off the edges of the cauldron with ease.

“See? Not so bad.”

You open your mouth to thank him, but Garreth has stepped away from your station. Bag in hand, he gives you a wary look.

“Earlier, when you were staring,” Garreth trails off.

“I wasn’t staring.” you scoff. In reality, you were , but that’s not the point.

“You were,” Garreth countered. “You weren’t trying any funny mind tricks, were you? I’d heard a rumor that you and Sallow were trying to study legilimency–”

Eyebrow raised, you cross your gloved arms. “Why on earth would I need to read your mind, Weasley?”

“To steal my potion recipe.” Garreth blurted, eyes narrowed. “For the contest. You’re trying to win, I overheard you and Sallow talking about entering.”

You scoff in his face. “Why would I need to steal a recipe from you ?”

Garreth straightened, pushing his copper hair out of his eyes. “Because everyone knows that I,” jerking his thumb towards himself, “am going to win. I’ve been planning my submission since I was a first year, and I’m not about to lose to you.”

Whatever warmth you thought Garreth Weasley was going to give you is long gone. You lean back over your pewter cauldron, scrubbing aggressively.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stoop so low, Garreth.” You seeth. “You know what? Just for that, I am going to enter Sharp’s contest now–and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Like hell you are,” Garreth huffs, leering down at you. You hadn’t noticed just how tall he’d gotten over the summer–

Focus, you remind yourself, eyes flitting away from his form.

“What are you two still doing in my classroom?”

You and Garreth spin around, almost knocking your cauldron over in the process. An exhausted looking Sharp stands in the doorway, his palm on his head.

“Not you two,” he mutters. “I had a feeling the two of you would be battling it out for best brew.”

“We were just comparing notes, sir.” Garreth says easily, backing away from you. “She needed help cleaning her cauldron.”

“Not your best work today,” Sharp reminds you, peering into your now sparkling clean cauldron. “The two of you should be off to lunch, or else you’ll miss the meal.”

“Yes sir,” the two of you chirp in unison. Garreth takes his leave while you’re stowing your cauldron away, and he’s nowhere to be seen once you get to the Great Hall for lunch. You want to fight, defend yourself against his accusations, but it doesn’t look like he’ll give you the chance.

His loss , you think, meandering over to your house table.

The first month of classes has been hell. While you’d pictured your sixth year to be quite leisurely with the extra free periods, you’ve spent every study hall cooped up in the library, buried in your books. Despite passing last term with flying colors, it feels like you’re going to spend your entire life catching up to your classmates. You might be the hero of Hogwarts, but you still feel stupid in History of Magic, stumbling over your words.

You’re cursing to yourself as you run through the streets of Hogsmeade, trying to make it to J Pippin’s before closing. Sharp’s potions contest has fallen to the bottom of your priorities, but the events of lunch earlier in the day have pushed you to work on your submission. You’d been sitting at the table with Sebastian and Ominis, lamenting over your shared arithmancy assignment when Garreth and Leander walked into the Great Hall, loud cheers and whoops coming from the Gryffindor table. They were sopping wet, hair windswept, having just tested Garreth’s potion submission.

“No one will be able to beat him,” Leander had declared loudly, rustling Garreth’s long red hair. Garreth was grinning broadly, a gaggle of fifth year girls surrounding him in awe. That alone was irksome; as if they really knew Garreth Weasley.

“Since when did Garreth Weasley become the hottest commodity?” Ominis asked, tilting his chin in his palm.

Sebastian took a sip of his pumpkin juice, snorting. “Probably because he grew five inches over the holidays,” he joked. “Lost the pudge too.”

“Sebastian,” you warned, flicking him in the head. “Don’t be so cruel.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, shrugging. “It’s true,” he argued. “Anyways, I can’t wait to watch you put him in his place during the potions competition. Do you have your brew ready?”

“Of course I do,” You lied, turning back to your parchment. “Don’t be silly.”

In actuality, you didn’t have your brew ready whatsoever–you’d spent the last month tinkering with several recipes, but nothing seemed good enough for submission. With potions due tomorrow, you’ll have to spend the rest of your day working on the brew. The rest of your classes for the day go unattended, spending the afternoon cooped up in the Room of Requirement to draft a recipe. Nothing seems to be working, and you’re out of focus potions. You could brew them up yourself, but perhaps some fresh air and a walk will do you good–therein, a trip to J Pippin’s was necessary.

The bell rings as you push the door in, Parry Pippin smiling at you from the register. You entertain his small talk, questions about your summer holidays, all while anxiously checking your pocket watch for the time. You still had your arithmancy homework, as well as a four foot scroll due in Transfiguration next week to work on–

“You haven’t run into Mr. Weasley, have you?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look up at Parry. “No, I haven’t.” you say sharply, taking the carefully wrapped package full of focus potions that he’s packed into your arms. “Why would I?”

Pippin clicks his tongue. “I’m fresh out of the stench of the dead, that’s all. Mr. Weasley was trying to purchase some more for his potions project. Nasty business, procurement. It’s hard to find a supplier that’ll face up to the inferi in the first place.” The register opens, and he begins counting your change. “I recommended he reach out to you for assistance.”

You blink at the shopkeeper. “Me?”

“Well of course,” Pippin snorts. “You’re rather fearless, aren’t you? Not that it matters, of course, he was quite put off by the suggestion. Asked me where he could find them, and I pointed out an old abandoned treasure cave a few miles north, up in the valley. Can always find them lurking around there.”

“I’m sorry , you directed a student to an inferi den?” You gape.

Pippin looks at you, eyebrows raised. “Don’t they teach you how to fight them and what not? Isn’t that what Defense Against the Dark Arts is for? Anywho, Mr. Weasley seemed rather confident in his abilities. Think he was a bit embarrassed that I recommended he ask a girl for help.”

You block out whatever Pippin is saying, tucking the package under your arm as you leave the shop. While it’s not your responsibility to look after Garreth (considering recent events and his rather frosty attitude towards you) you can’t help feeling a bit worried. Most students don’t have much experience with the undead; you only have a basic grasp on battling them due to Sebastian’s shenanigans the year prior. Inferi are tough, even for most grown adults to deal with; any wound inflicted by one can render even the strongest wizard ill.

The sun is beginning to set, and while you know you should head straight back to the Room of Requirement to work on your contest brew, you turn towards the path north. You’re certain you’ve visited the treasure den Pippin is talking about before, and it won’t hurt to check. If the clearing is empty, you’ve just gotten extra exercise for the day. If not–well, you don’t want to think about that quite yet.

You’ve forgotten how long the trek to the Hogsmeade Valley is, feet aching as you stumble over the rocky terrain. You bet that even if Garreth has gone to hunt the inferi, he’s likely given up by now, gone back to the castle already. You doubt Garreth wants to battle the inferi–he’s always had a distaste for dueling, preferring to watch everyone battle it out during Crossed Wands rather than participate.

You swallow thickly, trying to push the image of Garreth fighting the undead out of your mind. Despite your anger towards him, you really don’t want him to go up against something he’s not ready for just to win a stupid class contest.

The sky is dark by the time you round out the hill. From a distance, you can see the wooden arch to the old treasure den, and to your relief, nothing is disturbed. You’re about to turn on your heel to go back to the floo Upper Hogsfield when you sniff the familiar putrid stench of inferi. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar groan, and then anxious yelps.

“ Diffindo ! Ah, shit!”

You drop your parcel in the long grass, disappearing into a blue wisp as you close the distance between yourself and the voice. Of course, it’s Garreth, looking panicked and battered as he tries to slice through the inferi. They’re not fast, but his leg is bleeding, and he doesn’t know that severing charm will do no damage to the undead.

“Garreth!” you yell, sliding through the rocks towards him.

Garreth’s eyes widen, crying out your name. Despite his injury, he’s holding his arm out as if to shield you. That bloody Gryffindor bravery, you think, swatting his arm away.

“Get back,” Garreth yells. “Get to Upper Hogsfield, I can hold them off–”

“Get out of the way, you idiot,” you shriek, waving your wand towards him. Depulso might be a bit extreme, but all you can think about is getting the wounded boy out of the way. As soon as you hear Garreth yelp, landing on the soft grass, you turn your attention back to the inferi, who are closing in.

“Confringo!” you pant, unleashing fiery flames from the tip of your wand towards them. The heat of the fire has them shrieking and turning away. Several of them disintegrate, leaving behind the precious bounty Garreth had sought them out for in the first place.

It’s quiet, except for your heavy breathing and the screeches of inferi, all turning into piles of ash as you defeat them. Once you’re sure the last one has been slaughtered, you turn back to Garreth, a few feet away in the grass. He’s staring at you, dumbfounded, as he clutches the gash on his leg. He’s looking rather pale, the blood seeping from his cut a strange dark color.

“Garreth,” you breathe, falling to your knees next to him.

“It must be infected,” he says slowly. “From the inferi.”

There’s no time to waste. You dig through your hip pouch, pulling out one of your spare wiggenwelds. Garreth will surely need a blood renewing potion and some more itensive healing potions when you get back to Hogwarts, but this will do for now. Pulling out the stopper, you push the vial into his hands.

“I can’t believe Pippin would direct you to an inferi den,” you snarl, tearing a piece of your cloak to make a makeshift bandage. Garreth is quietly sipping on the wiggenweld, trying not to look at the damage. “I have half a mind to report him to your aunt–”

“Don’t,” Garreth begs. “Please, don’t. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“Garreth, you could’ve been killed.” You argue.

“It’s my own fault.” he says miserably. “Fire is what destroys inferi. I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

You give him a wry look. “Well, potions is your better subject.” you joke.

Garreth ignores your quip, downing the rest of the healing potion. “You came up to find me.” he points out, pushing the empty vial back into your hands. “Why?”

You shrug. “Pippin told me you didn’t want my help, and I assumed you’d go off trying to get the ingredients for yourself. You shouldn’t go up against them alone, Garreth.”

“You fought them alone,” Garreth points out. “You could handle them.”

“Well, either I fought them, or else you’d be turning into an inferi yourself right now.”

“Probably best to not waste my good looks on being a zombie.” Garreth jokes. Taking note of your stern face and unwillingness to laugh, he winces. “Should we get back to school now? Perhaps we can make it to Upper Hogsfield; take the floo from there. But make sure to get some of that stench of the dead before we leave.”

Garreth carefully supervises you as you scoop up the murky essence into your vials; he eyes you as you tuck them in your bag. Garreth tries to get up on his own, groaning as he balances on his good leg, swatting away your helping hand.

“Let me help you, you twat.” you urge him, slinging his arm around your shoulder. It doesn’t do much–he really has grown, and you need to stand on your tiptoes to even support him.

The two of you stumble through the grass and you pass your sad little package on the way down. Oh well, you think. Your potion is the least of your worries, considering Garreth is still dripping blood next to you. Despite his protestations that he’s doing fine, you know from the way he’s clutching your shoulder that he’s not.

“You’re not going to take me to the hospital wing, are you?” Garreth groans as you support him to the flickering green flame outside of Upper Hogsfield. “If you take me there, Blainey will tell Aunt Tilly, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that lecture yet.”

“I have somewhere else you can go.” you offer, biting down on your lower lip. You’ve never invited anyone into the Room of Requirement before–Professor Weasley strictly forbade you from sharing the room, and you’ve kept it a secret from Sebastian, Ominis, and Natty for almost a year now. But you’re sure you can’t get into too much trouble, especially if you’re healing another student.

“Do you trust me?” You ask Garreth, slipping your arm around his.

The redhead looks down at you, perhaps a bit skeptical. “I trust you.”

“Good. Not like you have a choice anyways,” You remind him, turning back towards the flame.

“Okay, now this is truly unfair,” Garreth complains, splayed across your settee. “Aunt Tilly is officially my least favorite family member.”

You snort as you sprinkle mallowsweet into your bubbling cauldron. “Because she didn’t show you the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes,” Garreth barks. “You’re telling me I’ve been sneaking into Sharp’s office after hours just to trial potions, meanwhile there’s a perfectly good potions lab in the astronomy tower? Rubbish,” he mutters. He picks at the piece of your cloak that you’ve tied around his thigh; it’s still bloody, and he looks peakish.

“The blood renewing potion is nearly done,” You assure him, walking away from the cauldron to assess his wound again. “Why do you need the stench of the dead so badly?” you ask, wrinkling your nose as you take off the bloody fabric. “Is it for your potion contest submission?”

Garreth swallows thickly. “Yes,” his voice is careful, trying not to give anything away. He inhales sharply once the fabric has come off; his wound, despite the wiggenweld, still looks worse for wear.

“Oh, come off it,” you roll your eyes, waving your wand to summon a fresh roll of linen. “Just tell me what it is. I guarantee you’re going to win anyways.”

Garreth gives you a funny look before bowling his shoulders over, letting out a loud sigh. “I’ve created a bottled tornado,” he admits, wincing as you bandage him up. “Bit of a play on the thunderbrew; you take the potion before entering battle, and you have full control of a windstorm against your enemies.”

“Is that why your hair was so fucked at lunch?” you muse.

Garreth rolls his eyes. “It looked good, okay?”

The two of you glare into each other’s eyes for the first time in quite a while; after a terse twenty seconds, both of you burst into laughter.

“Was it that bad?” Garreth wheezes.

You laugh, visibly shuddering. “Not that bad, actually. Those fifth years rather enjoyed it.”

Garreth rolls his eyes. “The most attention I’ve received from any of those girls, ever. Leander has been trying to talk me up to them, find us a double date.”

You’re quiet for a moment, stomach twisting with unfamiliar anxiety at the idea of Garreth and Leander sharing butter beers with those girls. Not that you care, really, but you miss hanging out around the Three Broomsticks every Saturday with Garreth. He’d been one of your closest friends until the incident at Honeydukes, and then nothing .

“Is that why you want to win the contest so badly?” You blurt. “For notoriety? Or just attention from the girls?” You joke.

Garreth shakes his head, shaking out his ginger mane like a lion. Sometimes, you think it’s too fitting that he’s a Gryffindor. “Nah, not for that.”

“What for, then?”

Garreth chews on his lower lip. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“Uh, no. Just that there’s a lot of them.” You admit, resting your palms on your knees.

“I’m one of seven siblings.” Garreth says, head falling back against a pillow. “There’s Arthur, Benedict, Cornelia, Deirdre, Edwin, Frederick, and myself.” he counts out his siblings on his thick fingers.

“Alphabetical order?” you asked, slightly amused.

Garreth rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.” Your eyes flit down to his torso; the hem of his shirt has risen, exposing a freckled stomach. You think back to what Sebastian had said–how Garreth had lost his baby fat over the summer, his once soft stomach turning muscled and strong. You try not to linger on the thatch of red hair trailing down to his waist.

“Artie, Deirdre, and Freddie played Quidditch for the house team. Cornelia and Edwin were both prefects, and Benedict was head boy.” Garreth explains.

“A successful bunch,” you offer.

“Successful besides me.” Garreth grumbled. “Mum wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I didn’t get prefect our fifth year. I’ve always been middling at Quidditch too, so no hopes for the house team.” he says moodily. “Just plain, untalented Garreth. The only thing I'm even remotely good at is brewing a potion, so I've been hoping to win ever since I was a first year. All my siblings tried, but none have won. Thought I might get my own name out there, instead of just being the youngest Weasley.” His eyes are glued to the ceiling, but you can tell from the furrow in his brow and hardened jaw that he's frustrated.

You tilt your head, giving him a disapproving look. “I think you’re talented, Garreth.”

“I think you’re talented too,” Garreth points out. “Which is why you’re probably going to win the potion making contest. Sharp hates me, after all.”

“I think you have a fair shot,” you argue. “You’ve spent all summer working on your potions.”

“Yes, but you’re you.” Garreth fights back. “You’ve had magic for what, a year? And you’re the most powerful witch I know.”

“It’s not that easy,” you mumbled under your breath, smoothing down the front of your trousers as you stand. You step back over to the station; the blood renewing potion has finished, a thick purple sludge that leaves a metallic smell in its wake. You pull out a clean vial, trying to ladle the necessary amount.

“Everything seems to come easy to you.” Garreth pointed out. “You defeated a troll, took town the goblin rebellion–”

“At what cost, Garreth?” you shout, closing your hand into a tight fist. “Ow!”

Garreth shoots up, propping up on his hands to peer over at you. You open your hand, shaking it out–you’ve shattered the vial. Cursing under your breath, you walk over the wash basin, muttering a quick charm to get the tiny shards of glass out of your hand.

“Let me help,” Garreth pleads, hobbling over towards you.

“Get back on the couch, Gar.” You seethe, pointing across the room.

Garreth puts his hands up, still shuffling your way. You wag your hand; it’s still stinging, but it’s just a surface wound. A wiggenweld and a bandage will do just fine.

“Let me,” Garreth says quietly, his tone soft towards you for the first time in ages. “It’s my fault, after all.”

“It’s not your fault,” You sigh. “It’s me, being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re the furthest thing from stupid.” Garreth assures you. “I meant to say that it was my fault you got caught last year.”

You pause. Is he really apologizing now?

Garreth takes the roll of linen, wrapping it around your palm. “You were looking for the billywig stings for me,” he says, tearing the linen with his teeth. He sets down the roll, tying a knot around the bandage in your palm. “I’m the reason you got caught, and you covered for me. Flume could’ve called the aurors for burglary, and I let you take the fall.”

All you’ve wanted for the past six months is for Garreth to own up to his part in you getting all those detentions and losing fifty house points. You feel a little satisfied, but at the same time sad–you could’ve been friends all this time, instead of strangers. Losing him made the other Gryffindors go icy against you, and it drove you further into Sebastian’s arms. While you love your other freckled friend to death, you can’t help but wonder what trouble you could’ve avoided had you not felt so isolated.

The thought overwhelms you, and you burst into a loud sob.

“What’s wrong?” Garreth panics.

You wipe a tear from your eyes. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing at all.” you blubber.

“It’s clearly not,” Garreth says gently.

“It’s just we’ve been avoiding each other for months,” you take in a shaky breath. “And I’ve missed being your friend.”

Garreth lets out a loud sigh, his hand trailing down to touch your forearm. It’s hard not to melt into his warm touch.

“I’m sorry,” he admits. “I was being stubborn. I should’ve apologized ages ago, I’ve missed you too. I was just so intimidated by you, I forgot how to be your friend.”

“Intimidated, by me?” You gape.

Garreth gives you a look, raising his thick eyebrows. “You’re the Hero of Hogwarts,” he waves his free hand. “You only just discovered magic a year ago, and yet you’re at the top of the class. You’re the best duelist I know; you bloody saved my life tonight.”

“I’m not a hero,” your voice falters. You’re not. Garreth would be horrified to know what you’ve done–dabbled in dark magic, taken life (even if not by choice).

“You’re a hero to me,” Garreth murmurs.

You look into his deep green eyes. They’re warm and honest; the Garreth you’ve gotten used to has a cold stare, eyes flitting away from yours as fast as possible. This Garreth makes your stomach flip, but not in an uncomfortable way. He’d always elicited that reaction from you, from the day you’d met. Garreth had always been cheerful and cuddly, an arm always tossed around your shoulder as you sat together or fiddling with the hem of your robe. It had gotten to the point where you might actually believe the rumors that he'd had a crush on you, considering the way his hugs lingered or the way his eyes caught you across the classroom.

For a second, you wonder if he ever actually did have a crush on you. You also wonder if he still might.

“You should take the potion,” you change the subject, shaking off his grasp.

Garreth obediently sits back down on the settee while you scoop the thick potion into a clean vial. He looks up at you with a smile as you settle down next to him, as if his leg still isn’t shaking and bloody.

“Bottoms up,” you press the vial into his hand.

Garreth takes the blood renewing potion, shuddering as the thick sludge passes through his throat. He shakes out his hair, setting the empty vessel down on the side table.

“How do you feel?”

“Feeling better already,” Garreth assures you, and you know he’s telling the truth. His cheeks are reddening, the color flooding back into his face. You look down at the gauze wrapped around his leg; thanks to the potion, the other healing potions you’d forced him to take are now kicking in.

“You’re brilliant, you know?” Garreth murmurs. “You’re beautiful, brilliant, and so damn brave. That’s why you’ll win Sharp’s contest.”

“Will you stop saying that?” You snip at him.

Garreth gives you an incredulous look. “It’s a compliment.”

“You don’t realize how much work it is,” you say, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “To catch up to all of you. Having this magic, not being able to control it–it doesn’t make any of the day to day any easier. It seems like there’s always something I have to learn, things I should know by now that I don’t. I feel like a fraud most of the time.” you admit, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” Garreth tuts, wiping at your face. “You’re no fraud. You, my dear, are the real deal. I’m the one bumbling around, getting scratched up by inferi–”

You shut your eyes, clutching at the hand he’s resting on your face. “I won’t let you talk about yourself like that,” you argue. The thought of Garreth, one of the most clever wizards you know, feeling inferior to his siblings is still fresh in your mind. “You’re marvelous, Garreth. You’re one of the best potioneers here at school, and you’re going to win.”

“But what about your submission?” His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

You shrug. “You need it more than I do–I already have my own space here, and you deserve the recognition.”

Garreth purses his lips together. “I can’t finish mine, unfortunately. Not without the ingredients–”

“Trust me, we have plenty now.” You assure him. “I probably have the rest of what you need here,” you say, scrambling to your feet. You rush back over to the potions stand, conjuring a clean cauldron. “I’m assuming you’re using the same base as a thunderbrew–”

Garreth is over to the potions station in three quick strides, closing the distance between you. He grabs your wrist, but his touch is soft.

“You’ll really help me?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Even if I’ve been an absolute prat towards you for the last six months–”

“I think if last year proves anything, I’d do anything for you, Garreth.” You want to look into his eyes, but the moment feels too charged. "You were one of my first friends here, and I care about you."

Garreth’s eyes flit down to your lips. “As a friend?” The question hangs heavy between the two of you.

You shake your head. “Yes...but also, no. Not just as a friend.” you say slowly, hoping he'll understand.

Garreth doesn’t release his grip; his fingers move down, tangling with yours. He takes a step closer and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. You look up at him, opening your mouth to say anything , but you don’t get the chance. Garreth’s lips crash against yours in a tender kiss, the pad of his thumb running over the back of your hand. You tilt your head up a bit too eagerly, your teeth clacking against his.

Garreth pulls away, and you’re momentarily mortified until he descends back upon you, this time wrapping his arms around your waist tugging you close. Your hands are in his hair, grasping at the copper locks you’ve spent the last six months eyeing. It’s just as soft as you thought it would be. Sighing into his touch, you can tell the freckled boy is smiling against your mouth from the curve of his chin. His tongue glides against your bottom lip and you grant him access, warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach as the kiss deepens. You want more, even if you're being greedy. You don’t want any distance between the two of you whatsoever anymore.

Garreth pulls away and you whine at the loss of him. He presses his forehead against yours, looking quite bashful. The look in his eyes says everything you need to know for now.

I’m sorry.

I’ve missed you.

I have feelings for you.

“Should we get to brewing?” you ask breathlessly, gesturing down to the empty cauldron.

“Let’s. I want to get it out of the way–I think the two of us have some more catching up to do.” Garreth teases, his hands hovering over your waist.

You grin, turning your attention down to the cauldron. Garreth’s warm body encases yours from behind, listing off all the ingredients and their exact ratios. His chin lands against your shoulder, breath tickling your ear as he whispers the instructions. It's only after he presses his lips against the nape of your neck that you slam the chopping knife down, hands shaking.

“If you keep this up, we’ll never finish.” You warn him.

Garreth’s chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Fine, fine.” he sighs, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he steps away. “I’ll observe some personal space for now, but the moment we’re done…” his voice trails off. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

You swat at him, rolling your eyes as he starts chopping mandrake leaves. The air in the Room of Requirement feels thick, charged with the tension between the two of you as you take turns stirring the altered thunderbrew. Before long, the cauldron is emitting sparks of lightning and gusts of wind, indicating your success.

“Back to catching up?” Garreth asks, chewing on his bottom lip as he bottles the brew. As soon as the potion is stowed away safely, you nod, and the redhead wastes no time taking you back to the settee.

You never did manage to have the time to come up with your own potion. Garreth had insisted on working through the night to help you come up with your own submission, just so he could win fair and square, but you'd shrugged him off. You'd only entertained the idea of entering to compete with him in the first place. Besides, you would rather save the precious time in the Room of Requirement for other activities.

Professor Sharp had just announced the winner of the potion brewing contest before the bell rang. In a tired, yet unsurprised tone, Sharp announces that Garreth has won by a landslide. The class is roaring and chanting for him; Sharp is perturbed that he’ll have to grant the budding potioneer access to his classroom and store cabinet after hours. Nevertheless, Garreth’s name is quickly etched into a little silver tag that will be added to the plaque in the trophy room, and class is dismissed.

“I can’t believe you bungled up your potion.” Sebastian shakes his head, slipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

You shrug, clutching your books against your chest. “Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was really hoping you’d put Weasley in his place,” Sebastian mumbles.

You turn your head over your shoulder, eyes immediately locking with Garreth’s. He’s standing over his cauldron, sprinkling ashwinder egg shells into the vessel as he smiles at you. His cheeks are a bit flushed–you’re not sure if it's from the heat of the cauldron, or from the memory of the kisses you’d shared in the Room of Requirement after finishing his contest submission.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Seb.” You assure him. “I think I’ll be putting him in his place much more often now.”

Sebastian doesn’t catch on to your innuendo, shrugging as you pass through the door. “Fancy meeting Ominis for lunch?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I”ll catch you both later. I think I left my quill behind.”

Once Sebastian is past the corner and out of view, you turn back around, slipping into the potions classroom. You were hoping for a moment alone with Garreth, but Leander’s whinging cuts the silence.

“The two of you couldn’t stop staring at each other all period,” Leander shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

Casting a quick disillusionment charm, you slip into the store room, leaving the wooden door slightly ajar to watch the boys interact.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee.” Garreth assures him, waving his wand to rinse out his cauldron.

“Are the two of you friends again?” Leander asks. “Sallow must be pissed.”

You shuffle forward, trying to get a better look at the two of them.

“He’ll get over it,” Garreth laughs, picking up his cauldron to stack it against the rest. His shirt is rolled up above his elbows, and you bite down on your lower lip as you watch the muscles in his forearms flex.

“I knew you’d win,” Leander snorts. “You’re the best in class, everyone knows it. You deserved it. But honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t even enter.”

“I know,” Garreth shrugs. “But she’s smart too. Quick as a whip, hell of a duelist. I don’t think we ever thank her enough for what she’s done.”

Leander scoffs. “Why are you kissing her arse? Oh no, don’t tell me you have a crush on her again.” he complains, rolling his eyes.

Garreth chuckles, walking back over to the station to pick up his book bag. “Crush on her? Mate, I’m going to marry that girl someday.”

Your heart stops for a moment, cheeks aflame. Garreth had confessed his feelings to you in the Room of Requirement, after the two of you had to drag yourselves apart at the risk of taking things too far. Now that you were back in his life, he assured you that there was little chance of him ever letting you get too far away again. You’d agreed wholeheartedly then, but your mind hadn’t even gotten to the idea of life post-school.

Marriage . Marriage to Garreth Weasley. The thought of it is comfortable, like a worn in sweater or a cup of tea. You can imagine waking up every morning to his lips pressed against your neck, encased in his warm embrace.

Yes, you might like that.

Even though you have a disillusionment charm on, you swear Garreth is looking straight at you through the crack in the doorway. He has a dreamy, faraway look on his face, one that makes you want to barrel out the door and tackle him to the ground right now.

“Now you really sound like you’ve been confunded,” Leander laughs. “You’re sixteen, Gar.”

“It’s more than that.” Garreth says fondly. “I know it is.”

“Whatever you say,” Leander snorts, heading towards the door. “Coming to lunch?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Garreth echoes.

You hear Leander grumbling to himself, his footsteps becoming quieter as he gets further away from the classroom. Finally, you hear nothing at all except the familiar hum of the boisterous Gryffindor boy you’ve been itching to spend time with all day.

The door flies open and Garreth reaches out, tapping your shoulder. It disarms your disillusionment charm, and you blink up at him in shock. He’s still beaming, a toothy grin accompanied by freckled rosy cheeks. Before you know it, the door is shutting behind you, and he’s backed you into the shelf. The taller boy has you pinned against it, muttering a quick locking charm before he slips his wand into his back pocket.

“I hope you heard me,” Garreth murmurs, brushing hair out of your face.

“I did,” you stammer. “You’re mad, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth grins broadly, his hair falling against your forehead as he presses his body into yours.

“Maybe,” he sings. “But you heard me. When you know, you know.”

You have no complaints. With Garreth wrapped around you, sixth year might not be so daunting.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #writing-intheundercroft #you can't tell me garreth isn't the dream boyfriend #i don't write enough for him WAHHHH

214 notes · View notes

inner-viper · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas with your FS

Guys, I will be officially selling all my paid readings on my online shop ONLY! There will be different divination, rituals, spells, and dream interpretations! Place your orders HERE!! I do live tarot readings too! Please check it out, thank you for all your support!

https://innerviper.com/

FULL NSFW Love Tarot Reading Pack on here!

https://innerviper.com/products/full-nsfw-love-tarot-reading

Check out the Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/InnerViper

Pile 1 Sexual Tarot Deck: 6 of Swords, 3 of Wands, 2 of Swords, and 4 of Wands

“Under the mistletoe, we kiss tonight. This marks our eternal love for each other..” “I want to keep you away from everyone, to hold you, kiss you, fuck you.. Ugh too bad we can’t escape them”

It seems like your first Christmas is at a family gathering of theirs. I feel like you both wanted to collaborate on the Christmas events from each side of the family. Either one of you could have a lot of extended family members! Anyways, this starts off as being very uncertain and not knowing where to look. It’s like you both had plans for this time around to be alone but ultimately it was not a viable option. I am getting a vision of your FS answering a call from their family, their family wants to hang around and have a cute holiday party. It seems like you will be slightly disappointed because you may have been planning a holiday getaway in secret but now you have to cancel your vacation. Regardless the chemistry between the two of you is still there! You both decided to lay off having sex. I feel like this pile has these moments in the relationship where they get infatuated with each other. It is like you both want to consume each other's souls. There is a strong sexual energy here. I am picking up that you like to tease a lot! You seem to enjoy wanting to make your FS dripping/leaking. It’s almost like you are taking out your anger on them haha. It seems like you like to transmute energy with your FS. I am sensing that you enjoy having the freedom to tease them all you want. During the Christmas holiday week, you will be touching them and edging them. It's not enough for them to cum though. They will be SO frustrated with you, they may at times snap at you during this week because they want you to satisfy them. I am getting a vision of you smiling at them and rubbing circles into their ass, really touching all their erogenous zones. You will even be taking lewd pictures to send to them while they are out. When it comes to Christmas day, you both will be riled up. You both can no longer take it anymore, you must unleash all this lust. This sex is going to have you both passing out but there will be challenges to get away from family! I am sensing that this party event is at your FS parent’s house. During the party, you both will be giving flirtatious stares, discreetly touching each other, and doing gestures that no one else understands. I am getting a vision of someone lifting up their skirt/dress and not wearing anything underneath it! You both will find ways to sneak off and share a kiss or two. I am sensing that every 30 minutes you both find somewhere hidden to be to make out. There is a lot of tongue energy here, my lips feel wet. So I am sensing that this kiss is quite erotic. I feel like this is the pile that is really into making out. You both will explore each other's tongue and mouth. You may enjoy the feeling of their tongue against yours and vice versa with your FS. Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Pile 2 Sexual Tarot Deck: 10 of Swords, Death, The Stars, and The Hierophant

“Hold my hand, take care of me while I go through this despair” “Take away my pains, I no longer wish to cry but I can’t help it”

This pile has some dark energy to their reading. I feel like there will be an event with your FS that will leave you sad, and almost depressed. I am not sure but some people that choose this pile may struggle with depression and dark thoughts. I hope that you can find some peace at times though. Anyways, there seems to be a death in the family or this is around the time that a family member has passed away and you no longer wish to grieve over it but you can’t help it when it comes to their anniversary. You seem to struggle with keeping it together, there will be moments where you want to scream and cry for help just so you don’t hold it in anymore. The collective of this pile may be people who struggle to ask for help when in need. It’s almost like you have this hyper-independence mindset. There is a vision that I am seeing of you being alone and crying alone in the dark. For some reason, you may hide what you are going through from your FS. I can sense that they will mention how you seem to have changed, and that they are always there for when you need to talk but you are trying to put this brave front. Now, the next vision that I am seeing is them catching you crying. I am seeing a vision of someone finding you outside crying to yourself, knees held against your face, and the sounds of weeping distraught. They are going to surround you with love and care at this time. They don’t want you to feel like you are alone because you aren’t. I am sensing that they were really festive and into the holiday spirit. They were excited to have spent time with you and their family. You didn’t want to ruin that for them so this is one of the reasons that you convinced yourself to hide it. You did not ruin their holiday spirit but they are upset that you didn’t talk to them sooner. During the Christmas holiday week, they will be attending to your needs. They will be around more often, taking care of house chores, bringing soup, and creating a comfortable safe space. They want you to be able to express your emotions fully. They don’t want you to bottle it up, they want to see you feel more comfortable around them. There is also this desire from them, they desire to be the one to see you vulnerable. A raw authentic version of you, a desire to see who you really are. They want to see you drop the high walls that you may have put up to keep others out. In a way, this will build a stronger relationship between the two of you. Now during Christmas day, I see that you two will be more comfortable and relaxed with each other. I feel like your FS didn’t want to spend time with their family because you were still grieving for some you both attended Christmas Day for a brief period of time. Either way, you end up at your house/apartment. I feel like this starts off very slow and passionate. It feels like this starts off with sweet compliments from them. They will be caressing you, rubbing circles into your skin, and trailing sweet kisses all over your body. They will be very gentle and ask if you want to continue because they really just want you to feel relaxed. Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Pile 3 Sexual Tarot Deck: 2 of Wands, Knave of Swords, 8 of Wands, and 4 of Swords

“Come I know you want more..” “Let’s have multiple back-to-back orgasms”

This pile is very passionate and fiery with their FS. I feel like you both are looking forward to spending the holidays alone. You both may have wanted to go on a trip by yourselves. I feel like you both spent a lot of time with family a week before so they wouldn’t feel saddened that you guys aren’t there with them. For some people who selected this pile, I feel like you may not have a good relationship with family so it is natural for you to just spend this holiday at home all cozy. Although because of that they want to bring an abundance of love to you. There is a general sense of wanting to make Christmas Day special, I feel like either one of you did not have the best holiday. Perhaps it is because either one of you did not grow up with celebrating this holiday but you or your FS could have grown up with it. It’s almost like they want to introduce you to a special occasion. You or they could put a lot of effort into making things perfect, so you’ll find it to be shocking that they are stressing over minor details. I see them asking your opinions on which country you want to be in, what activities, and what you want from each unique location that you may have selected. Your FS is wealthy, this is the pile that could have millionaire spouses. For some people, they are amazing at budgeting, so they make a good income to support both of you. Throughout the week, you both will be busy with a lot of fun spontaneous activities. I feel like there is so much teasing energy here. You could be wearing more revealing clothes, tighter fits, and showing off more of your collarbones than usual. They will be really into it, I see you both like to do some color coordination. You both are such a cute couple because I am seeing you both planning what to wear together. Whenever you both go out to dine, I feel like this is where the teasing is more prominent. You both have the correct words to say, there is a lot of dirty talk. Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Ok, so I am hearing a deep sexy masculine voice and a sweet seductive woman’s voice. Whoever you are into, they have a sweet deep voice. I feel like you may even have a voice kink because you will be squirming just from their voice alone. There may be times when you think you are seducing them and they will match your energy and do the most. It’s like you both are competitive with each other. I feel like this pile's energy enjoys switching and exchanging power dynamics. There is a sense of trying to overly dominate each other and I feel like some days on this trip you give up and vice versa. There is so much fun energy here, they may be into worshiping you. I feel like you’ll have so much because they make you feel good about yourself.

Now for the sex.. On Patreon

Thank you for reading!

256 notes · View notes