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reidmania · 4 months ago

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use somebody | spencer reid

part two

summary; spencer doesn’t believe someone like you could ever like someone like him, but he would do anything for a chance.

warnings; fem!reader, reader is described as being really really kind, bau!worker reader, fluff (slight angst bc spencer doubts himself) reader is a bundle of joy idk, spencer is absolutely disgustingly in love with reader. reader has a dog ( a golden retriever ) reader IS A BOOK LOVER, reader is shorter than spencer., no love confession but like there basically is. maybe a part two coming idk!

an; this is based off use somebody by kings of leon bc that song just AHHHH

‘I've been roamin' around, always lookin' down at all I see, painted faces fill the places I can't reach. You know that I could use somebody, you know that I could use somebody, someone like you and all you know and how you speak, countless lovers under cover of the street, you know that I could use somebody, you know that I could use somebody. Someone like you, off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep, wagin' wars to shape the poet and the beat. I hope it's gonna make you notice, I hope it's gonna make you notice someone like me’

If there was a single light in a room, it would be your smile. Spencer had decided that the minute you introduced yourself to him on your first day, your wide smile was the first thing he noticed, then your kind voice — ever since Spencer Reid’s heart had your name written all over it and you had no idea.

You had been talking to Emily, your hands flinging around the more excited you got about whatever it was you were talking about, you were still smiling when Spencer approached with furrowed eyebrows after Emily had noticed him in the doorway and called him over to introduce himself to the team newest member.

You had introduced yourself with probably the widest, and sweetest grin he had ever seen. He almost forgot about the amount of germs spread through hand shaking when you offered him yours. He was pretty sure he felt the most embarrassment and disappointment when he didn’t forget — and turned down your handshake with his name and a silly ramble about what your name means historically.

He didn’t miss the way your smile never dampened — not even after his rejection of your offered hand, not during his embarrassingly long ramble, not as you listened intriguingly and then told him how cool it was that he just knew that off the top of his head.

That was a year, forty three days, 16 hours and 27 minutes ago — not that Spencer was counting. But he definitely was.

Your kindness won his heart from that moment. Your smile became his moral support during a particularly tough case. It seemed all the less tense when you would meet his eyes from across the room and offer him the sweetest smile. Your small gifts you left around for each member of the team became what he looked forward to and the end of every week — each more thoughtful than the last.

Spencer had kept the collection of small gifts you had given him on the shelf of his bedroom. Each one was specific to him. If someone on the team had mentioned wanting something or something they liked — at the end of the week it would be sitting on their desk with a little pink sticky note and a small ‘I hope you like it!’ in your hand writing.

He noticed that a lot of the time your gifts for him reference whatever he had rambled about the most that week, because he never explicitly told you he wanted anything or liked something because he knew you would go out of your way to get him it — you however found a way anyways.

Doctor who figurines, books, dvd’s. one week you had noticed him fidgeting more than normal and on the friday evening you had left a small collection of different fidget toys for him, with the same pink sticky note that wrote, ‘Picking at your skin is bad!! it can lead to infections and sometimes if you do it too much you could end up needing surgery. (I dont know if thats true, doctor google wasn’t helpful!) I hope these help’

He hadn’t picked at his skin since, if he was fidgeting it was with one of the small metal fidgets you had gifted him.

“Good morning!” You chirped — suddenly the room seemed brighter as you walked into the bullpen, your bag was slung over your shoulders as you made your way towards your desk. You turned your head to offer Spencer a sweet smile.

He returned it, lifting his hand to wiggle his fingers in a gentle waving. A habit he had picked up from you. You never just waved like everyone else did, instead you just held up your hand and wiggled your fingers. When you were asked about it you had smiled and shrugged and said it seemed like your fingers were dancing.

Spencer was pretty sure it was the sweetest reasoning for something he had even heard, but maybe that was just the fact it was coming from you.

“Did you like the dvd I gave you on Friday? The documentary one — if you have even watched it yet! I thought it was interesting!!” You said as you placed your bag on your desk. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest at the way your hair fell over your face when your head dropped down to look at your desk.

He shuffled slightly at his desk to sit up a little bit straighter. “I watched it.” He stated. Any dvd you gave him he watched the night he had got it. This one particularly — he had known all of the information that was in it, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying it any less — because you liked it enough to recommend it to him.

“I thought it was interesting.” He nodded, you lifted your head and smiled and he started to wonder at what point that sweet smile would stop having an effect on him. He partly hoped it never would. “I watched another one yesterday. I think you’d like it.” He said, not mentioning the fact he had paid extra attention to all of it, making sure it included something you were interested in, just so he could recommend it to you then talk to you about it the next day.

You grinned, leaning against your desk as you looked at him. He was thankful your desk was so close to his. That you were so close to him. Close enough to have a conversation without having to talk across the room, close enough that he could lean over and help with whatever you needed if you asked.

“The documentaries you watch might be a little above my expertise. I think I’ll just be confused the entire time” You giggled out, tilting your head slightly to the side. He shook his head instantly, eyes following the hair that fell the way your head tilted, down your shoulder.

“You’re smart, you’d understand.” He said.

You smiled and raised your eyebrow slightly, “I’m not smart like you’re smart, Spence.” You shook your head, just as he had a few minutes ago.

He shrugged, “Not many people are” It came out cockier than he intended, he was about to apologise for how it sounded before he heard you let out a gutty laugh. A real laugh. “If- If you’d like.. We uh- We could watch it together and I could explain to you whatever you don’t understand” He added, then he realised he had basically just invited you to hang out with him. Just you and him, in an unprofessional setting. Now his mind was fuelled by the fear of rejection.

That fear dimmed when your smile widened. “Really? That would be great! I’d love that.” You had said.

Spencers mind went to almost a million different places in that moment. He thought about curling up with you on his couch, the documentary playing on his tv as you focused intently on whatever information was being said, he would admire you, he would ache to pull you closer and kiss your smiling lips.

Then he remembered how kind you were. The memory was both a blessing and a curse because then he remembered that your acceptance was probably an acceptance from your kind heart and want to spend time with your friend, opposed to wanting to spend time with him.

You smiled at him sweetly again before you were rushing off to greet JJ and tell her about something silly or maybe talk about whatever the two of you did on the weekend. He knew you often went out with the girls of the team on weekends.

Those nights he would lay in bed and wonder what you were doing, what you were wearing, how your hair was done, if you were laughing at a strangers jokes — you probably were. He knew that because you laughed at everyone’s jokes.

if all the joy in the world was wrapped up into a bundle and forced upon a person — that person was you. Spencer didn’t know if he had ever seen you not smiling and honestly his heart ached for the day he would have to.

“Hey Spence?” His head turned instantly towards the sound of your voice, he looked around to see you on your tiptoes trying to reach a file from a top shelf. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You didn’t need to say anything else before he was standing and walking over towards you.

He reached up, fingertips skimming along the files, “Which one do you need?” He asked gently, his eyes dipping away from the files to meet yours as you returned flat on your feet, a grateful smile on your lips, staring up at him.

“Um” You paused, eyebrows furrowing before a laugh left your lips, “The.. second one- I think” You paused before nodding.

He smiled “You think?” reaching up to pull out the second file nonetheless. He heard you sigh dramatically — he didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling still, probably pushing hair behind your ear.

“Yes, I think.” You stated. He pulled out the file, handing it to you. You took it gently, flicking through it for a moment, your eyes dancing along the words on the page before nodding.

You scrunched up your nose a little when you looked back up at him. “— I thought right! Thank you Spence. You’re amazing and great and awesome” You rambled, flooding him with praise. He felt his cheeks warm at your never ending compliments despite how often you gave them. You constantly reminded him how amazing you thought he was — when he was doing the most minimal things.

He wanted to take it as a sign that maybe you felt the same way he did but then you’d flood someone else with the same praise and that flame of hope would dwindle down just as fast as it came alight.

“You’re welcome” He settled on as his eyes lingered on yours for a moment, your cheeks were a warm shade of pink and he wondered if that had anything to do with him rather than the fact the room was just a little bit warmer than normal.

You grinned and turned away. He followed as you walked back towards the desks. He sat down at his desk, swivelling his chair to face your desk. “I was thinking — if you wanted, this weekend we could watch that documentary at mine, my dog gets a bit excited around new people but he could stay outside if it makes you more comfortable— Oh and theres a new take away shop near my house if you wanted to get dinner” You rambled about your plan’s absentmindedly as you looked over the case.

Spencer felt his heart pull for a number of reasons, one because he didn’t even know you had a dog. He couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else did and this was just a piece of information he had missed out on. Secondly, at the fact you were serious about watching the documentary with him. You actually wanted to.

He had partly assumed you had just agreed because you were kind and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and it would just be plans you two never really followed through with. He should’ve known better — because it was you.

“You don’t have plans with the girls?” He asked, eyebrows pinched together because he could clearly remember this morning hearing you and Emily talk about where you guys would go this weekend.

You let out a gentle laugh, shaking your head. “Im making plans with you actually. I go out with them every weekend, I’m sure they will survive without me for one.” You smiled sweetly at him, and his heart felt like it was being clenched by someones tight hand.

He tried to hide the fact his cheeks had turned an ugly shade of pink, and that his eyes had blinked away from your captivating gaze for a moment. “That- Yeah- Yeah. That would, thats fine. Your dog is fine. We can get dinner.” He stammered out, because apparently your kindness took away his ability to think straight. Although he knew that already.

“Great!” You smiled. Suddenly Spencer hoped this week would go fast. He turned his gaze back to yours as a question weighed on his tongue, a wonder.

“What type of dog do you have?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity as he watched you reorganise your desk. How you were smiling while doing something so mundane had his stomach filling with an ache of longing.

You raised your eyes back to his, a gasp of excitement leaving your lips at the opportunity to talk about your dog. “A golden retriever!!” You said, before going into a ramble about your dog.

He grinned as he listened to every word. He couldn’t help but think, a golden retriever. That was so fitting.

What Spencer wasn’t expecting at the end of the week, was a book sitting on his desk. The book wasn’t the surprising part. It was the pink sticky note and what it had written on it that sparked his curiosity.

‘I read this last week and I know romance novels aren’t usually your style but I thought of you. Its annotated. The key is on the back. Have the greatest night <3’

You had already left for the night after dropping everyone’s weekly small gift off around their desks and waving goodbye. Spencer knew you left a little earlier than anyone else to get the bus. You knew how to drive, you had a car. When he had asked you why you got the bus everyday you had told him you just enjoyed people watching.

He constantly worried about what may happen with the dangers of public transport and with how kind you were — well you would be an easy target. How could he tell you that he worried about you when you gave him the sweetest reasoning in the world? How could he tell you he worried without pouring his heart out to you.

Spencer went home that night and in bed he read the book you had gifted him — you were right, romance novels weren’t necessarily his favourite but it didn’t stop him from reading it with just as much interest because it was you that recommended it.

His eyes danced along the key on the back for your annotation. Pink was things you found sweet, green was moments you found interesting, yellow was things that moments that made you sad. — that one made Spencer’s lips pull into a tug because how dare anything make someone so sweet so sad?

But what really caught his interest was the blue. ‘things i want you to know’ It made him wonder what things in this book could possibly be something you wanted him to know.

When reading, he came across many colours and lines highlighted, most in pink and green, a few in yellow, but there was only one part highlighted in blue, it was lines in a conversation in the middle of a particularly mushy love confession between the two characters of the book.

‘You smile a lot.’ was highlighted in blue,

and then, “When you’re around, its hard not to’

Spencer didn’t know what it meant — thats not true. He knew what it meant, he knew what you were saying but he didn’t know what it meant about how you felt about him. His mind swirled with the possibility that you might feel something for him.

How it was possible that someone like you, could ever feel anything for someone like him had his mind in a frenzy.

That didn’t matter when Spencer finished the book and added it to the collection of items you had gifted him, he kept the sticky note and placed it back on the book. He looked over the collection — each gift partnered with the sticky note you had written when gifting them.

Spencer Reid loved you, and if he played any part in making you smile — That was enough for him.

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lives-between-lines · 7 months ago

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With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean - poly!marauders x slytherin!reader

─

Summary: Preparing for the dreaded OWLs proves to be a difficult task for one tightly-wound Slytherin. How do Remus, James, and Sirius each offer assistance, and how does she handle it?

Notes: No Voldemort, but pureblood elitism is still very much a thing. Story starts at the end of the Marauders and Reader’s fifth year. I don’t know the most about all the Marauders Era headcanons so I kind of did what I wanted, sorry if you don’t like it.

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~7.8k

p.1 p.2

─

I huffed as I reached for another heavy book on the shelf from one of the dark back corners of the library. I wasn’t in the restricted section just yet, but getting close to it. Between the weight of the other five books stacked in my arm and the height of the shelf I was trying to reach I nearly dropped them all.

“Careful, there, Princess. Might break something lugging around all those books,” someone said next to me. I nearly jumped as I hadn’t noticed anyone come down this same aisle.

I shot a glare at him for startling me. It was none other than Remus Lupin, one of those pesky Gryffindors who was constantly fighting me for my space at the top of the class. My glare intensified when I realized who it was.

“Yes, and it would sure be a shame if I managed to drop these on your foot and break something there,” I snarked.

He looked amused at me. “Whoa, Princess, no need to get feisty with me. I was just going to offer my assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance should I accept from you when you’re just as likely to try and trick me?” Lupin gave me a weary look. Typical of Gryffindors to think everyone is as blindly trusting as them.

“No tricks, Princess, just offering a bit of help,” he said with a shrug.

“Would you stop that? Stop calling me that,” I snapped at him before turning back to the book I needed. Before I could make a second attempt to reach for it, Remus stepped up next to me and I froze. But then he grabbed the book for me and set it on top of my stack then took a step back.

“Not a fan of your nickname?” He was of course referring to me being known as Slytherin’s Princess. Sometimes I like to pretend the nickname came about because I’m always top of the class, making my house proud, but I know the real reason is because I come from a wealthy, pureblood, Slytherin family and everyone thought me rather spoiled.

“I am not some simpering girl in need of a man to save her and it’ll do good for the people in this school to remember that.” Despite his significant height, I lifted my chin to Remus Lupin and dared him to say otherwise.

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, nodding his head and holding up his hands. “But you are Slytherin’s Princess, aren’t you?” His eyes light up in amusement at my frustration.

My nostrils flare as I hold back my anger. It doesn’t do me any good to blow up at some stupid Gryffindor, not when that is exactly what he wants and I am not in the business of giving Gryffindors what they want.

Instead, I turn to walk away. Take the high-ground as they say.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” Remus calls after me, quickly catching up to and following me. “Seriously, dove, I’m sorry. I was only joking. Please, let me help you with whatever on earth you could possibly need all these books for.”

I stop abruptly and turn toward him. “And why should I accept help from someone like you?” I nearly growl at him, barely holding back my frustrations.

Remus looks taken aback by my words. “Someone like me? You mean a half-blood?”

It’s my turn to be startled by him. “I mean a Gryffindor,” I bite out. This was exactly why I couldn’t stand this brutish group, they were always so quick to jump to outrageous assumptions, thinking the worst of someone like me just because I’m in Slytherin.

He looks relieved and confused at the same time, but I don’t really care to help him unpack his complex emotions about the exact reasoning behind why I don’t trust him.

I dump my books down onto the table I had claimed earlier and began to scour the table of contents in the first one. Uninvited, Remus took the chair next to me and began looking over my shoulder at the book.

“Can I help you, Lupin? Or are you just interested in being a nuisance?”

“I’m glad to be a nuisance any day, but as I’ve said before I was actually hoping to help you.”

“And as I’ve said before I’m not looking for any help.”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Is that this close to our OWLs you’re scouring books for something that you think you’ve missed, but you’ve been at the top of our classes all year, so I highly doubt you’ve managed to miss anything of real importance.” I give him a confused look, trying to discern how he’s figured me out so easily. Except he’s wrong, of course, I did somehow manage to lose the year a specific herb was realized to have certain medicinal properties. “So now I’m trying to answer the question of what does little miss Slytherin Princess think that she desperately needs to know, and will that really be the determining factor in her score on her OWLs?”

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening to me admitting defeat in front of a Gryffindor. “I don’t have the year we began to use hyssop to treat earaches,” I murmur.

Remus’s face seems to fall at my admission. “That’s what you’re so concerned about? A minor herb’s medicinal use? Not even that, you already know that, but what year that was discovered? That is such a niche detail, there is absolutely no way Sprout asks us that.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously Sprout’s not going to ask us about that, it’s Binns that I’m worried about,” I explain. Although I really shouldn’t be giving my enemy any help in preparing for our upcoming tests. I was just as desperate to best him on these tests as I’m sure he was me.

“Binns?” He asks, outraged. “Binns would never ask about that in a million years.”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that. We had a lecture on the history of medicinal herbs, hyssop was one of them.”

“And so you really think that from that one lecture he’s going to ask us when hyssop was discovered to help with earaches?”

“I was reviewing my notes and I had written down the year but it got smudged.”

“You’re actually a raving lunatic,” Remus tells me. He looks around the library like he might get up and leave, but then he turns back to me. “I realize these are the most important tests of the year, but I think you have way overestimated the difficulty of the questions that will be on them.”

“And I think you can never be too safe.”

We hold each other’s gaze for several moments. Remus finally blinks and then sighs. “Confound it all, fine. Hand me one.” He holds his hand out expectantly.

I stare at him, confused.

“Well? Are we going to look for this blasted year or not?” I blink out of my stupor and hand him one of the books I had grabbed.

We sit in silence for a long while, pouring over the texts. The only sound in this part of the library is us turning pages. The first book I look through doesn’t contain my answer, and neither must the book Remus has. Although I am tempted to go back later and double check he didn’t find it and not tell me in an effort to trick me.

After I get through two more books and Remus goes through three, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that had been nagging in the back of my head the entire time.

“Why exactly are you helping me? Surely you’d much rather be focused on your own studying.”

Remus slowly pulls his attention away from the book in front of him. He blinks at me and then furrows his brows. “Sorry, I know you said something, I just didn’t quite catch what,” he admits.

I can’t help the small laugh at his honesty. “Why are you helping me? I thought you’d want to be studying for your OWLs.”

“I am studying for my OWLs,” he replies, tauntingly. I roll my eyes at him.

“Come on, you know what I meant,” I push.

He shrugs and I think that’s going to be all the answer I get, then after a pause he says, “you’ve intrigued me. I’m curious now to find out when we started using hyssop for earaches.” There’s something about his tone that’s off, but I mark it down to him just teasing me. “Besides, I’m already plenty prepared to get a perfect score and take my spot at the top of the class.”

I laugh at his taunting. “Clearly not prepared enough if you’re not well versed in the history of hyssop,” I tease back.

He gives me a winning smile and something in my chest stutters at it. I must just be unsettled by his obviously false flattery.

“Can I ask you something in return?” He asks after a moment.

I consider him, then reply, “I don’t promise to answer, but you’re welcome to ask.”

He smiles again and this time it feels like my heart has been squeezed just a bit. “Well I suppose that’s fair. But are you always so…” he trails off and I get nervous at where he’s going with this. “Well, are you always so intense about knowing every little detail?” He finally finishes.

It must be relief that floods my veins when he doesn’t ask anything backhanded or rude. I actually give him a smile before glancing down at my lap.

“I have to be, don’t I? There’s one way to stay where I am and it’s by rigorous study,” I admit.

“Is it really so important to stay at the top that you have to obsess like this, though?”

I think back to what happened when I would slack off with my studies at home before coming to Hogwarts. I can’t help the way my face falls at the memories.

“I suppose it might not be so important to a Gryffindor, but success is a high priority in Slytherin,” I finally respond. It seems when I don’t know how to react I lash out, although Remus is lucky to have caught me in a good mood as I let him off rather easily.

Nonetheless he still looks a bit dejected by my response. I feel a bit bad for shutting him down when we had been starting to get along rather well.

“We should probably focus on the matter at hand, though, if we ever want to find our answer before curfew,” I say, returning to the book in front of me.

“Right…” Remus murmurs. Part of me expects him to leave at that point, after all that’s when everyone else does. He surprises me when he stays and doubles down his efforts.

I open my mouth, to say what I’m not entirely sure. I close my mouth again when I realize that I want to apologize. There’s no way that Remus wants some half baked apology from me.

Time passes in silence, the both of us occupied with our search, but my mind keeps wandering to the way I had snapped at Remus. I didn’t understand why he had sat down to help me, but I shouldn’t have antagonized him for asking a simple question. It wasn’t his fault that the answer wasn’t so simple.

I can’t help stealing glances of him every few minutes, which significantly hinders my speed in reading my book, but Remus doesn't seem to notice and I can’t get myself to stop. This means that I notice almost immediately when Remus freezes suddenly. I try not to react, not wanting to have been caught looking.

“Holy shit!” He nearly shouts, someone nearby shushes him loudly, but he’s too busy jumping out of his seat to mind. “Oh, Merlin’s beard I actually found it!” He whispers loudly this time and pumps his fist. Standing at his height above me while I sit next to him I have to strain my neck to look up at his face, but it’s such a beautiful sight with how excited he is.

“You mean you actually found the year?” I ask, matching his excitement.

He nods enthusiastically at me then points to the line of text that contains the answer we’d spent hours searching for. “Yes, yes, look! It’s right there.”

We celebrate as quietly as we can and I quickly jot down the information into my notes.

“Oh, thank you, Remus! You’ve just saved me probably three hours.” I stand to join him. It’s then that I finally check the time and realize just how close it is to curfew. “Ah, shit,” I murmur. “We should turn in for the night. I don’t fancy having a run-in with Filch tonight.”

“Let me walk you to your dorm?” Remus offers.

“What? It’s nearly curfew, you’ll risk getting in trouble with Filch. No, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my dorms for the night,” I reply firmly.

“Don’t worry about me, dove, I can handle myself. Let me walk you to your dorm.” This time Remus sounds more like he’s telling me than asking me. Nevertheless I nod in agreement and we make our way to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons.

On the way down, Remus teases me lightly about how obsessed I must be to dedicate so much effort into finding such a small detail. I tease him back about him being a nerd for helping me look for the answer. It’s lighthearted and easy and part of me thinks I could get used to having Remus as a friend. Another part of me questions what it would look like for me to be friends with a Gryffindor and whether my parents would approve or not. Then the first part kicks the second part for being such a self-obsessed ass.

Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room I wave goodbye to Remus and wish him a good night. I try not to blush when he calls me “dove,” and dart into the safety of the common room.

─

The next few weeks Remus seems to make it a habit of running into me in the library when I would otherwise be alone. In the past I had tried studying with Narcissa or Andromeda but the pair of them had bad habits of wanting to chat while I wanted to actually study, so my time in the library had previously been spent alone.

Remus was different, though. He understood my desire to focus on the material in front of me and not whether or not his hair was looking frizzier than normal.

Before I knew it I had come to rather enjoy his company. It felt almost reassuring that there was someone else who was similarly interested in studying, but wanted to do it with me. Somehow it was like studying at the same table as him made studying that much better, even if nothing of substance had changed.

─

On a Saturday morning, a couple weeks before we were to begin taking our OWLs, I went out to the Black Lake just before the sun rose. I had slept fitfully, getting more and more nervous for the tests ahead of me. There was so much pressure to do good on these, I didn’t know what I would do if I were anything less than perfect.

I don’t know why exactly I came out here, I just knew that I needed fresh air. Without much else of a plan, I sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled out my wand. I practiced a couple small charms and transfigurations on the branches and rocks around me.

“I’d say that rock doesn’t stand a chance against you, but I’d like to know what it did to deserve such treatment in the first place.”

I dropped the spell I had been using to propel the rock in the air and it fell swiftly. There likely wasn’t anyone in the school who I would not have been shocked to see, but I was especially shocked it was none other than James Potter. He’s a fairly popular boy my age in Gryffindor, mostly known for his outspokenness and disruptive behavior. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he’s actually friends with Remus Lupin.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I can’t help but ask.

“I could ask the same of you,” he points out. I finally take him in at that moment. He’s wearing loose shorts and an old Gryffindor quidditch t-shirt that he’s cut the bottom half off to show off his athletic build. His curly hair is a mess atop his head, but I get the notion it’s always like that. When I meet his eyes I’m struck by how blue they are that I can notice even with him standing several feet in front of me. I can’t help but think to myself how pretty he is. He gives me a dorky smile, as if used to the attention but still not sure how to respond.

“Couldn’t sleep so well. Thought some fresh air would do me some good,” I finally answer, not acknowledging how I’d just been looking at him.

“Some fresh air and tormenting rocks?” He teases.

“Is that all you think we Slytherins do? Torment everything?” I huff.

His face twists at my response. “No, no that’s not what I meant at all. It was just a joke, most people laugh at them.”

I sigh and lean back against the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit on edge,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to open up to this next to perfect stranger.

James takes a few steps closer and I tense up, but he just takes a seat next to me under the tree. “What’s got you so on edge?”

“Is that another one of your jokes? The OWLs obviously.”

“Oh, right. I suppose those are coming up soon.” He pauses and tears some grass in front of him. “What’re you stressed over those for?”

My brows pinch together and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re only the most important tests of the entire school year, of our entire schooling career thus far! These will determine our entire futures.”

It’s James’s turn to look at me like I’m crazy. “They’re just another test, though. And I really don’t see how they’ll determine our entire futures,” he says plainly.

I scoff and roll my eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to blow off something so important.

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole thing about being perfect in every subject and staying ahead of everyone else, so I’ll make you a deal.” I turn to him, my interest piqued. “If you do any less than perfect on each of your OWLs, I’ll turn all the professor’s hair purple,” he offers.

My jaw drops at his suggestion. “What on earth would that accomplish?”

“Well I figure people won’t be talking about what grade you got on your OWLs if they’re too busy talking about Dumbledore with a lilac beard,” he’s laughing even as he says it. I laugh, too, at that image.

“Make it bright pink and I’ll help you,” I reply through giggles.

James gives me his award-winning dorky smile and I can’t tear my eyes away.

“Seriously, though, I’ll bet you’ve already gotten perfect scores on every other test this year, there can’t be anyone else more prepared than you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, not used to outright compliments that weren’t also an insult. My gaze falls to where James is still fiddling with the grass. “A bit antsy, are you?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to work on that. I actually came out here to go for a run, it helps me burn some of my extra energy before the day so I can focus a bit better.”

I can’t imagine wanting to start the day by burning through energy, I often woke up with barely enough to make it through the day.

“Oh, I’m sorry to be keeping you. I can go back inside if you want to run by yourself,” I offer and even before I finish talking, I’m pushing to stand up.

“No, no you’re fine!” He’s quick to reassure me. “Please, stay. Actually if you want you could join me, it might help you clear your mind.”

I consider for a moment before deciding to agree. There couldn’t be much harm in it, it was still at least another hour before most people would get up for the day and I didn’t have anything better to do.

While we run I can’t help glancing over to James, who’s clearly in his own world.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, slowly illuminating our path. At one point the sun is behind James when I steal another glance at him, and the way the light catches on his features makes him look like a real life angel.

James proves to be right, the run did help me to clear my mind. When we stop back where we had started I’m feeling significantly lighter than before, even if I am breathing significantly heavier.

“That was… fun,” I am slow to admit. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Anytime, darling.” He gives me another goofy smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like, I come out at the same time everyday.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

─

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take James Potter up on his offer every day for a week straight. I quickly come to enjoy the ritual of it, waking up before dawn, sneaking out of my dorm, getting the fresh air and clearing my mind before the day.

James’s presence was a reassuring one, even if we didn’t always talk much. I had the sense that he would listen to anything I needed to say and offer encouragement.

As our OWLs loom ever closer I come to rely on our runs to center me in the mornings more and more, but I also question how long James will continue to let me join him. He never says anything to indicate he doesn’t want me to join, though, so I take him at face value and keep meeting him under our tree every morning.

─

The night before we’re to start our OWLs I find myself unable to sleep for even a minute. Of course this wasn’t a problem for my dorm mates who had fallen asleep at least two hours ago.

I toss and turn, thinking that maybe if I could just get comfortable I could get to sleep. Of course I have no such luck. Eventually I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures.

I don’t have to worry about being too quiet as I climb out of my bed, pull on a jumper, and slip on my sneakers. I’ve mastered this routine from sneaking out for my morning runs.

Two years prior Narcissa was sniffling and sneezing her brains out, but didn’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey for medicine. Andromeda insisted we could take care of her ourselves, she just needed a good, hot cup of tea to clear her system. I never knew where she learned it, but she showed me a way to slip into the kitchens undetected. She then showed me which cabinet to find the herbs in, and also which herbs were the right ones. And then she showed me how to use the kettle.

It was amazing how much better Narcissa was able to sleep after she finished her cup of tea, and the next day she was right as rain. I quickly became obsessed with the simple magic behind a “good cup of tea” and asked Andromeda to tell me everything she knew about the different recipes and ingredients. When her knowledge proved to be rather limited I went on a rampage in the library until I was satisfied─ a good two weeks later.

My plan was a simple blend to help me sleep and settle my nerves. Chamomile and cinnamon was sounding particularly tasty, although I was considering whether I might like lavender with rosemary more. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice at first there was already someone else in the kitchens. Thankfully when I did I only jumped a little.

Confused, I stared at Sirius Black as he took a kettle off one of the stoves. He gave me an amused look in return.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He guessed.

“No, I’m quite afraid not.”

He gave me a sad smile in understanding. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cup,” he offered. I can’t say why I listened, but I did. Maybe in a moment of weakness before a highly stressful event I didn’t care that I didn’t know him much, I just wanted to let someone take care of me.

“Any preference on what kind?” He asks.

“Hmm, I was debating between chamomile with cinnamon or lavender with rosemary,” I say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I proceed to list off my many thoughts on the benefits of each ingredient and what might best suit my current situation.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice that Sirius has made a decision for me and already started steeping the herbs in the water. I’ve somehow veered off onto what might make a good combination if Sirius was having a headache, or if his headache was caused by a cold and he had other symptoms what could help with that.

To his credit, he never once interrupts or even looks bored. In fact the entire time he seems to regard me with mild amusement, and I begin to get the impression that everything he encounters in life amuses him.

I don’t even stop rambling about tea when he sets my cup in front of me. After taking a sip, I start to tell him how very fond I am of lemon balm, then pause when I finally realize the cup of tea is already made.

For the first time since Sirius asked what kind of tea I wanted, he is finally given a chance to say something. “Are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Ravenclaw?”

I scoff at his suggestion. “Don’t be absurd, Slytherins can be just as studious as Ravenclaws, we just typically hold our cards a little closer to our chest.”

“Right.” He nods. “This was you holding your cards close to your chest?” He then questions.

“Well it’s not like there’s any great secret behind tea. And besides, even if I haven’t been able to sleep I am quite tired.” A yawn escapes me just then to prove my point. “Narcissa always complains about my tendency to ramble when I’m tired.”

“Why would she complain? I found it rather entertaining,” he says, lightheartedly. Even though his tone has a hint of joking to it, I feel like he’s being honest.

I give him a small smile before taking another sip from my cup. It’s still quite hot, but the flavors are still strong. “Mmm, this is quite delicious,” I compliment. “Is it chamomile with… rosemary?”

Sirius gives me a proud grin. “Ten points to Slytherin,” he jokes. A smile falls on my face.

“What have you made for yourself?” I ask, glancing at his cup.

“Vanilla and rose.”

“That sounds lovely. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“James’s mum makes it for us all the time. Do you want to try a sip?” He offers. I nod quickly and he passes over his cup. Sure enough it’s a delightful mixture. I tell him such and he tells me the measurements so that I can make it for myself.

“So what’s keeping you up on this otherwise peaceful night?” Sirius asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. He looks at me dumbly, confused as to what the obvious answer might be. “We start our OWLs tomorrow,” I scoff.

“Merlin, you can’t really be this stressed about it.” He sounds disbelieving, though I’m not sure why.

“I can and I am,” I say, matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes and turns to begin putting away the tea kettle. “Why are you up, if not because of the OWLs?” I then ask.

“Not for any good reason. Have always had trouble sleeping,” he says, but the tightness in his voice, and the way he tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear tells me there’s something else he doesn’t want to share. I can’t fault him for that, though. “Which of your OWLs do you feel most prepared for?” He asks after a moment of tense silence.

It throws me off for just a second. Most people want to know which test I’m most nervous for, want to know what area I’m weakest in, where the chip in my armor is so that they might strike there. I consider for a moment, not wanting to say something that I end up bombing. Eventually, I decide on my favorite subject. Sirius seems to accept that answer without pushing any further, so I turn it on him.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answers almost immediately. “I want to be an auror,” he brags.

I roll my eyes at the proud smirk on his face. “Of course you do.”

“Well? What do you want to be?” Sirius asks as if expecting a lame answer such as archivist.

“My parents want me to be an alchemist,” I reply in what I would guess is a lame answer.

“That’s great for them, what do you want to be, though?” Looking into his eyes at that moment feels as if he’s staring into my soul.

“I… I don’t know,” I mumble slowly and my brows furrow. I can’t help but look at my cup of tea, half empty at this point. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before, not when it came to something so major. It was always assumed I would follow the path my parents laid for me.

When I find the courage to look back up to Sirius he has a sympathetic look on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap.

In return, Sirius’s face pinches in anger. “I wasn’t looking at you any type of way,” he defends.

“Yes, you were, you had this look on your face like you were sad for me,” I accuse. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“I’m not sad for you─”

“Good, because you have no reason to be. My life is great and everything is perfectly fine.” The way I say it even Sirius can tell that I’m trying to convince myself more than him at this point. I let out a frustrated sigh. I want to say something about how I’m a great witch and I’m meant to be an alchemist, but another voice in my head whispers to explain how I really feel.

“Look,” I start, then trail off.

“It’s complicated,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I’m sure you know about my family, you know I get it.” His voice is so soft as he talks to me, as if I’m a frightened animal. But despite my flaws I am still a Slytherin, and I do not appreciate being treated like a frightened animal.

“Leave it to a Gryffindor to be so self-absorbed they assume everyone knows their tragic tale of woe. Maybe instead of staying up late to make tea and trying to relate to girls you hardly know you should work on your form for your smokescreen spell.” The words spill out of me before I even consider them. I don’t even take the time to be shocked at my outburst. Instead I storm off.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk about self-absorbed, Princess!” He shouts at my back. I nearly flinch at the nickname, but keep going out of the kitchens and straight back up to my dorm.

─

The morning before the first day of our OWLs testing I follow my same routine. I wake up early to run with James, and he tries to ask if I’m feeling alright, but I brush him off and neither of us acknowledges the way I push myself harder on this run than I ever had before.

After our run, I go back up to my dorm to shower and get ready for the day. My dorm mates still haven’t caught on yet that I’ve started getting up hours earlier. They do ask if I’m feeling flush and press their hands to my forehead, though. I shove them off with a grumbled, “I’m fine,” and shove my things for the day into my bag.

In the Great Hall I can hardly stomach a plain slice of toast, but I just manage to get it down with some orange juice. I feel a bit queasy, but today is too important to pay that feeling any mind.

On my way to the first test of the day, I think back to Remus’s reassuring words from our study session the night before.

“Look, I know trying to reassure you that you’ll do great won’t get through to you, even if I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Remus says softly, almost hesitantly. “Instead I hope you know that it will be okay if you aren’t perfect.” My heart hits my stomach and I drop my quill. I start to shut down, prepare to lash out. Why would he say that? He thinks I won’t be perfect?

“Maybe other people will have different opinions, but I will still be your friend and I know that everything will turn out okay for you.”

Oh. My heart flutters back to life. We’re friends?

For once in my life, I do not lash out at someone for trying to get closer to me, for saying something honest that I wasn’t ready to hear.

I give him a sad smile. “Thanks, Remus.” I pause for a long moment. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” I whisper. Then, because I’m not sure how to proceed after that, I stiffly turn back to my notes. Remus, ever the gentleman, goes back to his book and doesn’t push me any further.

I don’t think anyone had ever told me before that it was okay to be anything less than perfect, but his words become my mantra for the day.

“It will be okay if I’m not perfect,” I think to myself as I walk into the classroom.

I take a seat next to Narcissa. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

The professor instructs us to start. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

I read over every question three times. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

I double check each of my answers. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

I finish the last question. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

I walk up to the front of the class and turn in my test. It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

As I leave the classroom I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be okay if I’m not perfect.

My stomach begins to churn and I walk straight to the nearest bathroom, into one of the stalls, and promptly begin to lose my breakfast. I hear the door open behind me when I’ve stopped heaving.

“Think you’ve found yourself in the wrong bathroom, Princess,” someone says mockingly. Footsteps come closer to me. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind me, so I’m able to turn and see Sirius Black. Again. I give him a horrified look.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in the girls’ room?” I nearly shout at him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s walked into the boys’ room,” he informs me. I give him a disbelieving look until he shifts and my gaze falls on a line of urinals behind him. My face blushes profusely and I stare at Sirius, mortified. He gives me a pitying look. “It’s okay, pretty girl, you’re clearly not feeling well. Stay there for a moment.”

Still in shock, I stay put. I hear the sink running for a moment, then Sirius comes back with a damp towel. He hands it to me to wipe my face.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies. With a tender hand, he helps me to my feet when I’m ready. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, then.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. It must’ve just been something I had at breakfast,” I lie.

Sirius gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve clearly worried yourself sick and we both know it.”

I don’t reply as I follow him out of the bathroom. My plan was to start going in the direction of the hospital wing, then double back to the library to keep studying. Sirius’s plan was to follow me.

“I’m more than capable of walking myself to the hospital wing,” I say tersely.

“And I’m more than capable of walking with you. I’m glad we’ve determined our abilities for this excursion.”

I shoot him a glare that would scare off most other people. Sirius doesn’t even blink at me. My new plan: ignore Sirius as he insists on walking me to see Pomfrey.

“How did you feel about it?” He asked after a moment.

I don’t respond.

“I personally thought some of the questions were a bit repetitive, like I had to explain myself multiple times.”

I stay strong.

“But maybe that’s a bad sign that I didn’t do as good as I thought.”

Just keep staring straight ahead, he has to shut up eventually, I think to myself.

“On the second question─”

“Would you just shut up already?” I snapped. I was stressed enough over how I did without reliving it with someone I didn’t even like.

Sirius holds his hands up defensively. “Someone’s cranky,” he says with a laugh.

“I am not cranky, I just don’t particularly care to discuss the test with you.” My eyes roll of their own volition.

“What should you care to discuss then?” He asks.

“With you? Not much.” Maybe if I can discourage him enough he’ll grow bored and wander off.

“It’s a bit of a trek to the hospital wing from here, though, and I’ve found conversation to be a great way to pass time.” Of course, I should know that Gryffindors are not so easily discouraged.

“I’ve found that there’s no reason for you to walk all the way to the hospital wing with me.”

“Wow, are you like this all the time?” He finally snaps back.

“Like what?” I pretend to be ignorant.

He scoffs at me. “Rude, Princess. Are you always so rude?”

I flare up at the nickname. The way he says it, it feels like he knows I don’t like it.

“Nobody asked you to pester me,” I say.

“Most people would consider this an act of kindness, not pestering.”

“How unfortunate for you that I am not like most people.”

“It would do you a bit of good to learn something from them, maybe you could start with some manners.”

“I’m perfectly well mannered, thank you very much. You’re the one who didn’t listen when I told you I was fine to walk by myself, and you’re the one working yourself up by staying with me when you could bug off to literally anywhere else.” With that I begin to speed up to leave him behind.

Sirius actually stops for just a moment, as if really considering my words. Then he rushes to catch up to me. “No, I want to know what’s so bloody great about you,” he says.

I give him a strange look. “I never claimed for anything to be so great about me.”

“Maybe not but you sure act like it, so tell me: what is so bloody great about you? What makes you so special that you think yourself better than everyone else here?”

It’s my turn to stop in my tracks. “Who the hell said I think I’m better than everyone?”

“No one has to say it, Princess.” The way he says Princess feels like venom on his tongue.

I want to hit him. Punch him in the face and give him a great bloody nose. I want to hex him. Maybe knock him off his feet. I want to scream at him. Scream that I don’t think myself better than everyone, that I’m just an imposter pretending to be perfect all the time.

It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

Tears start to well in my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was eleven and my family was getting ready to drop me off at Hogwarts for the first time.

“Do not cry, darling, it’s unbecoming,” my mother says to me. “Soon you will be sorted into Slytherin and prepare to continue your family’s legacy. You must show strength at all times, even if you do not feel it. We can not be perceived as weak.”

A single tear snakes out of the corner of my eye and down the apple of my cheek. I look down and it falls to the ground by my feet. Another tear falls, and before I know it I am fully crying. I start to struggle to breathe.

When I look back up to Sirius he looks terrified. He must think he’s what’s made me cry. The truth is it’s the last five years that have built up to weigh on me continually. It’s the way my life was gilded and no one had ever cared to look below the surface until a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin offered to help me study. Until James Potter offered to go for a run. Until Sirius Black offered me a cup of tea.

My quiet tears begin to turn into choked sobbing as I realize how sad my life really was, that these three Gryffindors had shown me a kind of genuine caring that I hadn’t known could exist.

Hesitantly, Sirius takes my hand to lead me over to a nearby bench so I can sit down and try to collect myself. It takes several minutes for me to control my breathing, and several more for my tears to subside. I finally look down to notice that I’m still holding Sirius’s hand, that I’d actually been holding it quite firmly.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I release his hand from my grasp. “You were right. Everything is so very complicated.”

Sirius gives me that same look he did last night, and I realize. He wasn’t sad for me, he understood me. But how was it fair that he would get to leave, when his brother and I were left behind with our authoritarian families? Selfishly, I think maybe he could show me the way.

I sit there, lost in my thoughts, for a long while. Sirius stays with me. Eventually the bells toll to indicate it was time for lunch. When I glance up at Sirius, he’s already looking at me.

“Can I make you an offer?” He asks.

I grow weary at his words. “I would suppose that depends on what the offer is.”

“Well, your eyes are red and swollen and you’ve got mascara tracked down your cheeks,” he starts and I grow horrified as I realize what I must look like. There was no way I could go into the Great Hall looking like the mess I surely am. He lets out a small laugh at my expression. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll grab us some lunch from the Great Hall. We can meet in the south courtyard.”

I was amazed that even after I’d been so mean to him, he would still be so kind to me.

“That would be quite nice actually. Thank you,” I reply softly.

Sirius gives me a swift nod, then helps me to stand up. We go our separate ways, me to my dorm to wash my face and apply some fresh mascara and concealer, and Sirius to the Great Hall.

─

I’ve just sat down in a corner of the courtyard for a couple minutes when Sirius shows up. I try not to look too shocked when James and Remus appear with him. Of course, I knew they were all friends, they went galavanting around the entire school proclaiming themselves marauders, but I’d never interacted with all three of them together.

It suddenly occurs to me that they likely share a dorm, and very well could have planned this all to be some grand prank on me. But they had all seemed so genuinely kind to me until this point, and I was so tired of constantly second guessing everyone’s intentions. I decided that if this were some prank I would let them have their fun at me, then show them the real wrath of Slytherin.

The three of them quickly set up a small picnic and begin lighthearted conversation. James compliments the way my hair looks today. Sirius teases James for the way his hair looks everyday, although I would argue it flatters him I don’t say that aloud. Remus gives me a knowing look as the two begin bickering.

Spending time with the three of them is easy, and feels right. Like it was always meant to be the four of us all together. None of them mentions my earlier breakdown, or even anything to do with our tests. I wonder what Sirius told them before they all came out here. Whatever it was, none of them shows me any judgment so I can guess he must have skipped over my rude behavior.

I’m sad when the bells ring again to signify the end of lunch. We clean up our area of the courtyard, then head back inside. Over the course of my time with the boys I feel my spirits lifted significantly, feeling much better and ready to face the next two weeks of tests.

It will be okay if I’m not perfect, I think to myself again, and this time I really do believe it. Because even if I’m only just getting to know Remus, James, and Sirius, I know that they are my friends and they’ll be there for me.

#poly!marauders x slytherin!reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders #marauders era #slytherin!reader #slytherin #remus lupin x sirius black #remus lupin x james potter #james potter x sirius black #harry potter fandom

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nadiajustbe · 2 months ago

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Underrated HMC moments I've never seen anyone talking about part 2

Howl choosing "H. Jenkins" for the shop's sign wich is the one and only moment in the series he actually uses his legal initials, as "H" can stand for "Howl" and "Howell" in the same time

Lettie being so angry about Prince Justin calling her "a sweet lady" that she said that she would prefer ever Howl over him. Wich is. Telling.

The King assuring that he never pushed Justin off and that everyone who knows them both wouldn't assume that.

Sophie being so RAGED with the whole weedkiller and daffodils situation she wasn't saying A SINGLE FULL WORD for about a page in the least. All of the sounds were like "argh!" and "Sophie gave the wordless glump of range"

The seven-league boots having the funniest description of use ever, as every time someone used it then the effects were simply narrated as "Zip!"

Howl raises the skull and quotes Hamlet directly to it, wich becomes a hundred times funnier when you remember that this Skull is canonically and ironically the only "person" in the room who can understand the reference.

Howl saying "Denmark" in the same sentence. And, again, they're in a fairly tale fantasy word. Sophie has absolutely no clue what to hell is Denmark. For Howl this is the basic knowledge of elementary school level.

Poor Percival being almost KILLED for transforming in the middle of a valley because people thought he's a WEREWOLF.

Poor Percival being STROKED with information of him being made of part of two other people right after experiencing heavy trauma, beheading, physical damages, not really well-planed adopting and moving a house.

Percival describing laying on the shelf and looking at the other parts of himself. What a lovely kids book.

Sophie accidentally making cayenne pepper magical. She would make a great seller-witch career because she doesn't need to know the spell in order to make. She takes random powder. She says it will do the duel fair. It makes the duel fare by making an opponent sneezing uncontrollable (wich is also just a way cayenne pepper affects people lmao)

Sophie's first thoughts after she heard that Howl is leaving the black door knob where it is being "Of course! There's miss. Angorian!'. Sophie, dear, he has a family out there.

Michael, apparently, hiding the money under the same brick Sophie will soon describe in CITA as "the brick where we're hiding money from Howl"

Miss Angorian and Howl acting like the spell in a modern Wales is the most normal thing ever. "That's a spell!!" "Oh yeah of course I suspected that"

“Didn’t know I used to fly up the wing for my university, did you, Mrs. Nose?” “If you were trying to fly, you must have forgotten how,” aka Sophie absolutely not understanding modern world sport terminology

Drunk Howell trying to get through the door MULTIPLE times, bumping on it before "discovering" the door

Calcifer "taking" that huge mention they lived (and almost never visited) in without buying it. It was literally said the owner is just Not Here.

Sophie loosing an acces to her own room. Wich must be really sad.

Witch of the Waste leaning on a swing when literally capturing Howl's family

Additionaly: Howl canonically NOT altering his clothes while rushing to save his family. He was running around in a long-sleeved medieval closes on a welsh playground

Sophie and miss Angorian having a whole fight over the guitar pulling it back and forward while it was making horrible sounds

Sophie literally pushing miss. Angorian off the house using the said guitar

Howl immediatly reacting when someone mentioned that the star Michael tried to catch looks sad.

Scarecrow literally running around with parts of Justin's body on its sticky shoulders for eighty percent of the book's finale

Howl saying he could be "the evil fairy at his own christening" which is probably a reference to the "Sleeping Beaty". Also. rises a question: did Howl HAD a christening. There's a huge chance he actually did.

Ben and Justin just. smiling at each other for enough amount of time for Sophie's narrative to say "If she had paid any attention she would see them". Am I interuppting something???

Lettie hating Howl's courting SO MUCH she asked Percival to bite him several times.

Additionally: Ben apologising to Howl for trying to bite him. That's also probably first time they're interacting

Howl ignoring all of it because sOPHIE HATTER

#yep about that lmao #hmc book #howl's moving castle book #howl's moving castle #hmc #howell jenkins #sophie hatter #howl pendragon #howls moving castle

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phoward89 · 10 months ago

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Based on this ask

Set 4 months before the 10th Hunger Games.

WARNING: Dark!Coriolanus, Spit kink, dry humping, slight degradation, fingering (f receiving), reference to stalking

The day of love, the ancient holiday of St. Valentine's Day, better known as just Valentine's Day for short, was vastly approaching. Rom-coms were clogging up nearly every station on Capitol TV, every grocer and sweet shop had large hearts full of candies on display, jewelry stores had diamond rings on display in the front windows, restaurants were being flooded with calls about holiday dinner reservations, and florist shops were bombarded with orders for roses.

February was the month of love and it seemed that everyone was losing their mind over it. But for different reasons. Couples were trying to find the perfect gift for their significant other while shop owners were trying to cash out on the commercialism of the holiday celebrating love.

You weren't a fan of the holiday, but why would you be when you've never had anyone give you anything on February 14th? You weren't anything special, just a girl that always has her nose in her books.

You were a bookworm, an impeccable student, and a good girl. Nobody notices girls like you.

You thought that nobody noticed you.

But, it turns out, you were wrong.

Your classmate at the Academy- a tall, skeletal thin boy with messy platinum curls and sparkling sky blue eyes had taken a liking to you.

In fact, he more than liked you.

The top student of the Academy was infatuated with you.

No, no, that wasn't it.

No, he was obsessed with you.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow was obsessed with you. He'd been watching you from afar for years, but now his obsession was growing to the point where he knew just watching you wasn't going to be enough anymore.

Coriolanus just had to have you.

He needed to make you his.

You were like a drug to him, he craved you and had to have you for his sanity.

So, since it was the month of love, Coriolanus Snow decided that he was ready to finally make you his.

How would he do that? Well, by being your secret admirer during love week of course.

Then on the day of love, he'd reveal himself to you; forever making you his.

On February 7th you walked into the Academy like you did any other day. You avoided the judgemental stares and gossiping from the snobs as you made your way to your locker. When you reached it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Or at least until you opened the metal box, only to reveal a white rose on the shelf above your stack of textbooks. Also, nestled under the rose was a note.

You reached for the paper, only to unfold it and discover that whoever wrote the note had perfect penmanship.

The flourish of the longhand was nothing, but perfect loops and dashes. The words were, as you quickly discovered, a poem.

Not just any poem, but a poem about roses by a poet from ancient times. The pre-Panem days.

Who would know that you enjoyed ancient literature?

“I see you received a white rose, Y/N.” Coriolanus Snow told you, seeming to appear out of thin air.

His locker was right next to yours, so you shouldn't have been startled by him. But for some reason, you were.

“Um, yea. Yea, I did.”

“Any idea who it's from?”

“No.”

“Well, then it looks like you have a secret admirer. Don't worry, I'll be on the lookout for you; tell you who they are if I learn anything.”

“You don't have to do that, Coriolanus.”

“Have you thought that maybe I want to, Y/N.” The platinum blonde countered, tilting his head in a way that made his curls rustle.

You forced a smile paired with a polite, but generic, “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Before he could say another word, you closed your locker and took off down the hall.

Coriolanus watched the swish sway of your hips as you walked away. His icy blue eyes glued to your ass.

Oh god, oh he wanted to take you from behind and smack your ass; make it jiggle.

Soon.

Very soon he'd make you his.

It's your destiny to be his because he always-

ALWAYS

-gets what he wants.

And what he wants most in this entire world is you.

Well, you on his rock hard cock, but that's besides the point.

The following day, you opened your locker to find a single white rose with another note.

It was a quote from an ancient Pre-Panem book. Romeo & Juliet by Shakespeare to be exact.

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.

And then the day after that, you found a single white rose with a tiny chocolate ball wrapped in a red wrapper inside of your lock. Of course, once again, there was a note written in perfect flourish accompanying it.

Enjoy your chocolate on this sweet day, my darling rose.

You were about to put the note back into your locker whenever Coriolanus appeared at your side. He towered over you, so of course he saw the note in your hand along the presents your secret admirer left for you.

“I see you got chocolate today with your rose.” Coriolanus observed as you placed the note in your locker and pulled out your books for your first couple of classes.

Little did you know, Coriolanus stole what little money Tigris has squirreled away for the mortgage payment this month to buy you a single piece of candy. He was poor, so poor that he didn't have a pot to piss in, but he had to get you something to impress you.

And all girls loved chocolate, didn't they?

Well, he knew his Grandma’am loved chocolate. So, safe to say, he was hoping you'd like the chocolate. That the small treat would make you fall in love with your secret admirer.

With him.

Instantly.

“Yea.” You nodded, closing your locker. The platinum blonde continued just staring at you instead of making a move to unlock his locker. “The secret admirer struck again.” You stated the obvious as a way to clear the awkward air that was starting to loom around you and Coriolanus.

“I see that.” Coriolanus smirked. “Are you flattered by the gifts your admirer’s been leaving you?”

You mulled over that for a moment. Hmm…How did you feel about all the roses and little notes? “Well, it’s sweet. But I wasn't even aware that I'm likable so for somebody to keep leaving me roses and notes is a bit of a shock.”

Still staring at you, Coriolanus flashed a smile that was all pearly whites. “Of course you're likable, darling. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

“Have you seen half of the people we go to school with?” You asked, trying not to burst out laughing as the names and faces of your stupid and annoying classmates fluttered around in your head.

“Yes, well unfortunately we're surrounded by idiots that we have to play nice with so we can step on them as we climb up the ladder to success.” He dramatically told you, baby blues rolling into the back of his head, as he finally opened up his locker.

*Oh my God? Did you just say that?” You laughed, finding his remark amusing. You never knew that he had such a dark sense of humor. “If only we started talking years ago, then we could've been sitting at the lunch table judging everyone.”

“Oh, so you enjoy my company then?” he asked, pulling a book out of his satchel and placing it into his locker.

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Just maybe?” Coriolanus pressed, grabbing what he needed for his first couple of classes and packing it into his satchel.

“Sejanus likes you, so you can't be that bad.”

Coriolanus leaned over you, his eyes flashing mischievously, and his voice a low velvety baritone, “Oh, but you're mistaken. I'm a very bad boy, I just don't get caught being bad.”

It was right at that moment the first warning bell rang for the first morning class. That bell gave you an out in a situation that had quickly escalated. “The bell rang; we better go, Coriolanus.”

He nodded, only to say, “Call me Coryo, Y/N.”

“Okay, well, see you later, Coryo.” You told him before quickly taking off towards your class.

Coryo watched your backside, fantasying about spanking your ass while roughly fucking you, before taking off to his own class.

Every day was the same thing. You would receive roses and notes filled with poems and quotes from ancient Pre-Panem literature. And everyday Coryo would make a remark about it.

So, when Saturday rolled around, you were relieved that your admirer wouldn't be able to leave you anything.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Turns out, you were wrong. So very, very, wrong.

You were at your kitchen table, which has seen better days since the wood was worn, scratched, and chipped, eating some toast made out of stale bread, whenever your mother came into the kitchen. A bundle of 3 roses tied together with a ribbon bow paired with a piece of parchment in one hand and her daily morning paper in the other.

Oh no.

Your secret admirer struck again.

“You got roses and a letter addressed to you, Y/N.” Your mother told you, placing the items on the table. “Is there something you want to tell me about?” She asked, taking a seat at the table.

“I have a secret admirer.” You honestly answered, reaching for the love note while your mother unfolded her newspaper.

“Oh, how nice. Maybe he's rich.” She smiled, watching you unfold your note.

Of course she'd say that. But you understand why though. You go to school with a bunch of snotty rich kids while you're living hand to mouth in an apartment Corso. If it wasn't for your older brother, Rein, sending home his peacekeeper’s pay, well, you'd probably be out on the streets. Your mother just wanted you to have a better chance at life then she did; wanted you to marry a wealthy man that could take care of you. Get you out of poverty.

You can't fault her for wanting better for you. For wanting you to avoid making some of her mistakes.

You didn't say a word, just shrugged as you read over your note. You couldn't help but smile at the words written in that perfect looping, swooping, flourish that you've grown to adore.

These white and red roses I give to you are a promise of my affections towards you. Red roses symbolize love while white roses symbolize purity, perfection, and an untarnished new love. I have nothing, but both in my heart for you, my darling rose.

Your mother leaned over your shoulder, reading your note. “Seems like you've managed to snag the heart of the Poet Laureate of Dogwood Lane.” Your mother huffed, only to grab her coffee cup.

“I think it's sweet, mother.” You defended your secret admirer, placing the note down and picking up your tiny bundle of roses.

As you smelled the faint, sweet scent of the roses, your mother sighed, “With words like that, he's a poor boy.”

“Mother, don't act like that. It doesn't matter to me if my admirer's rich or not, as long as he's nice to me.” You scolded your mother while leaving the table and taking your roses over to the kitchen sink, so that you could put them in a tall glass of water.

Your family didn't have any vases. They were broken the night your mother received the news about your father's death. She grabbed every vase in the house and threw them at the walls with all her might, screaming and crying with heartbreak.

“Y/N, it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man. You remember that; it'll keep you from doing something stupid.”

But what if you wanted to do something stupid?

On Sunday you received another rose from your admirer and another note. It was a simple note, but it was sweet none the less. Of course, you put the rose into the water glass the other 3 were in.

And come Monday, you received another gift from your secret admirer. You asked Coryo if he had any clue who your secret admirer could be because you really wanted to meet them, tell them that you thought they were sweet. He told you that he knew, but would tell you the next day.

Valentine's Day.

Of course, he was going to be a troll and make you wait until Valentine's Day to find out what he knew about your secret admirer. Damn. He would.

So on Valentine's Day you walked out of your front door, expecting to make the walk to the Academy and ask Coryo what he learnt about your secret admirer, only to find him pacing the floor right in front of your apartment. He had something behind his back and he seemed to be, for a lack of a better word, nervous.

“Coryo, what’re you doing here?”

Stopping in his tracks and turning to face you, he smiled while pulling his hand out from behind his back. Extending a perfect white rose to you, he smiled, “Y/N, my darling rose, I've come to tell you that I'm your secret admirer. That I'd like to take you to the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy tonight.”

“You? You're my secret admirer?” You couldn't believe your eyes and ears. It was Coryo all along. How could you not see it? Before he could utter a reply you took the rose from him and smiled, “Coryo, I'm glad it's you.”

Of course you're glad he's your secret admirer. You enjoy his snarkiness and he's hot. He's tall, has broad shoulders paired with a small waist, and his platinum curls frame his angular face in a way that makes him look like a Greek god.

Before Coryo could utter a word, you threw yourself on him; hugging him. He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. Resting his chin on top of your head, he asked, “Are we going to the dance?”

“I'd like to, but I don't think I have anything to wear. Or at least anything that hasn't been worn one too many times already.” You admit, feeling a bit bad that you'll probably miss the dance because you don't have a slew of dresses to pick from.

Coriolanus understands where you're coming from. He too has the hard burden of keeping up a filet mignon steak appearance while on a cabbage and watery broth soup budget.

So, pulling away slightly so that he could use a hand to tilt your chin up; making your eyes lock, he told you, “I'll bring you home after school; my cousin Tigris can fix you up for the dance. I'm sure she'll have a suitable dress for you to borrow, since she's a remarkable seamstress that’s always making something.”

When Coriolanus brought you to his penthouse, you were shocked to find out that he lived in your building on the Corso.

He lives on the 12th floor in your building! Oh, how the universe has a funny way of fucking with you.

Coryo living in your building’s the reason why he became your low key stalker, watching you from afar for so many years. It's why he singles you out. Why he’s your secret admirer.

When you entered the Snow penthouse, you discovered that it was in poor shape. That he was poor, just like you were. That he was acting at school, acting like he had all the riches in the world when he didn't.

It should've bothered you, but it didn't. Coryo was just trying to survive being at the Academy with a bunch of rich snobs. What choice did he have, but to lie about having money. He has to blend in somehow.

Coriolanus was excited for you to meet Tigris, Grandma'am too, but unfortunately the penthouse was empty. His cousin left a note detailing that she took their Grandma'am out to run a few errands. She told.him roughly when they'd be back too.

Fortunately they'd be back in plenty of time to help you get ready for the Valentine's Day dance that Coryo wanted to take you too.

You thought that he wanted to take you to the dance because he likes you, but that was only partially true. Coriolanus wanted to take you to show you off. Stake his claim to you. Mark you as his own.

Once everyone in the Academy saw you on his arm, they'd all know that you belonged to him.

Coriolanus always did like showing off his most prized possessions. But, unfortunately, he doesn't have many of those these days. So, now that he has you right where he wants you, it's time to show you off.

But to do that he needs Tigris to shine and polish you. Make you look dazzling, like a diamond. But, since his cousin and their Grandma'am are out, having you be made over by his cousin’s magical fashion touch will have to wait.

Coriolanus decides that since he's got you all alone in his penthouse, he might as well act on his fantasies of fucking you.

And that's how you find yourself in Coryo’s room, splayed out on his twin sized bed in nothing, but your simple white panties as he sucked and nipped a spot below your jaw. His hands were on your boobs, massaging them roughly as he grinded his boxer clad bulge into your wet, aching core.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache in your pussy. “Coryo, please…” You whined, feeling the platinum blonde sucking harshly at a spot right below your jaw.

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you?” Coryo taunted huskily in your ear. His warm breath tickling your earlobe; sending a new rush of heat down to your wet center. “Hmmm?...” He hummed against your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

You placed a hand in his light blonde curls, only to pull his head up. Making his lust blown eyes meet yours. Biting your swollen, over kissed lips, you admitted, “I'm a virgin, Coryo. I don't know if I'm ready to go all the way yet, but I need you to touch me.”

Of course you were a virgin. He knew that. Coriolanus just wasn't expecting you to be hesitant about wanting to fuck him.

Damnit!

He didn't want to be a virgin anymore. He wanted to have his first fuck with you.

Okay, honestly, he hated people and would only be fucking you since you're his. After all the hard work he did wooing you with the secret admirer gifts and notes, he'd be a fool to try and find somebody else.

Coriolanus gave you a lopsided smile, only to stroke your cheek and confess, “I'm still a virgin too, my darling rose.”

Coriolanus Snow’s a virgin? But he's so hot. How is he still a virgin? Like, with his looks you thought he would've had a few hookups under his belt.

“Why?” You asked, curious eyes looking up into his icy baby blues.

“I'm too busy studying to do anything.” Coriolanus smoothly lied.

Truth was, he could go out and find somebody to fuck if he wanted to, but he was too busy watching over you from the shadows to do that. So, in fact, it wasn't studying he was too busy doing, but obsessing over you. Following you around whenever you went out. Even lurking nearby your apartment, in an alcove where you'd never see him, for the chance of sneaking a glimpse at you whenever you open the door to take out the trash or something.

Yes, he studied his subjects for school, but not with the same obsessive diligence that he studied you.

Trailing his fingers down your neck, until his hand reached the hollow of your throat, he smirked, “Plus, I guess I was waiting for the right girl.”

“Yea?” You ask, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. You couldn't believe your ears, Coryo just said, in so many words, that his wait was over because you were the right girl for him. That made your heart soar.

Coriolanus’ blue eyes sparkled and his plush lips turned up in a soft smile. “Yea.” He nodded, hovering over you. “We can wait until we're both ready, darling.” He offered, stroking the hollow of your throat. “I promise.”

And despite being obsessed with you to the point that he was literally your stalker, knew everything about you, and wanted to own you, he meant it. He wasn't going to push you into giving him your virginity. But that was because he worked too hard (because giving you a roses, notes, and a piece of chocolate for an entire week straight was hard work) to get you to notice him, trust him, and love him back to ruin it by pushing you too hard.

Coriolanus is a patient man, he can wait a bit longer to fulfill his fantasy of stuffing his cock into your tight cunt. At least he gets to fulfill his other fantasies with you. But, he hopes by summer he'll be balls deep inside your tight cunt.

He had an obsessive love for you and he wanted nothing more than to claim you as his. In every way possible.

And that urge to claim you is what spurs him on; what has him biting at your collarbone, soothing the teeth marks with a few laps of his tongue. The platinum blonde smirked against your skin as he felt your fingers tighten around his hair as little mewls left your mouth. It sends pride coursing thru his body, knowing that being marked by him turned you on.

Coriolanus wraps his lips around one of your nipples only to roughly tweak the other between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to let out a small, breathy moan.“Coryo…”

Your reaction to his ministrations caused him to grind his boxer covered bulge into your soaked panty covered pussy. He moaned around your nipple, the feeling of your wetness soaking his hard dick driving him crazy. He needed some friction to relieve his aching cock and by how you were frantically canting your hips up to meet his, you needed some relief too.

Coryo sped up his pace, only to roughly squeeze your tits while biting your nipple. You felt pleasure mixed with pain, causing you to loudly moan and claw at Coryo's back with your hand that wasn't tangled in his hair.

Letting your nipple fall from his mouth with a loud pop, he smirked, “You sound so beautiful when you moan for me, little dove.”

One of his hands trailed down your body, only to squeeze your hip. His thumb brushed against your hip bone as his hand, that was still on your boob, harshly palmed it. He stopped grinding into your core, causing you to whimper and buck your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to move again.

But he didn't move. Instead, his icy eyes stared straight into your soul as he asked, “I want to take your panties off; finger fuck you real good. Can I do that, baby?”

Could he do that? Of course he could. Didn't you tell him you wanted him to touch you before? Was he being shy or was he giving you an out? You didn't know, but all you knew was that hearing that he wanted to finger fuck you sent a fresh pool of wetness between your legs.

“Yes.” You nodded. Your voice was a desperate whine as you told him, “Please, Coryo. I need you so bad.”

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

He pulled your panties off, only to toss them over his shoulder. Your instant reaction was to close your legs, but Coryo placed his large hands on your knees, preventing your legs from closing. “Don't get shy on me now, Y/N.” He reprimanded you, lust blown icy eyes locked onto yours as his platinum curls framed his elongated face perfectly like a halo.

You couldn't tell him he was being serious or playful with his reprimand, so you just nodded.

His attention fell to your slick pussy. You were so wet for him. “That all for me, darling? Fuck, your so wet.” He groaned, gnawing on his bottom lip as he felt his already rock hard cock get painfully harder. God, just looking at your perfect, pretty pussy dripping and drooling juices just for him sent a possessive pride straight to Coriolanus' heart.

It gave him an ego boost knowing that he's the one to make you so wet. That only he can do that, make you needy and wanting for him.

Serves you right to be wet between your thighs because of him. God only knows how many nights he fisted his cock, worked up with need for you. It's only fair that he makes you into a needy wanton little whore for him.

“Yea, it's all for you.” You nod, letting your hands run over his chest. You can feel his ribs underneath his pale skin as you tell him, “It'll always be for you.”

Coriolanus gave you a needy open mouth kiss as he hovered above your body. The kiss was messy and took you by surprise, but it also turned you on. A feral look flashed in his eyes, which was more black then icy blue at the moment, before he grabbed your chin in his hand. Keeping you jaw open with his hand, he uttered the declaration of, “Mine, mine, mine.” Before spitting right into your mouth.

You felt the spit rolling down your throat, becoming one with you in an exotic way. Coriolanus’ smiled widely, showing too much of his pearly whites, at the site of you swallowing down his spit. “You're mine, my darling rose. All mine and I'll never let you go.”

Yes, you were all his. His personal little slut. His darling rose. His, his, his.

Coriolanus’ face hovered dangerly close to yours as he snaked a hand between your bodies. But, before he could touch you, you stopped him by grabbing hold of his wrist.

He gave you a startled look. Did you change your mind? Did you want to stop?

Fuck, he hopes not.

No, you didn't want to stop. Infact, you wanted him to take off his white boxers so that you could see his cock. You wanted him bare before you since you were spread out for him.

And you told him so.

And boy, oh boy, he was so happy to hear you say that.

Quickly, he stood up and pulled off his boxers. Seeing his large cock, that was at least 8 inches with veins running alongside it, you felt desire heat up inside of you.

“Can I touch it?” You asked as he knelt back on the bed.

“Yes, you can touch it. But after I'm done with finger fucking you. Okay baby?” He cooed, settling back between your legs and cupping your soaking wet cunt with his large hand. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, little dove.” Coriolanus told you before running a long finger up your slit.

A shiver felt down your spine at the feeling of him teasing you with his finger. You let out a ragged breath as his finger slipped into your tight pussy, only to languidly thrust a few times. You felt yourself grow wetter as he pulled his finger out of your wet hole, only to bring it up to his mouth and suck on it.

Coriolanus’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, “Mmmm…you taste so sweet.”

“Coryo, please.” You begged. His teasing was driving you crazy.

Deciding that two could play that game, you reached down with your hand and grabbed his hard cock.

“Fuck.” Coriolanus gasped as you experimentally ran your thumb over the leaky, red tip of his cock. His breathing was harsh as he said, “I got an idea. Think you’d want to try it?”

“What is it?” You asked, curious to hear this idea of his. You felt like you'd explode any minute now, so if he had a way to ease your aching cunt, then you wanted to know. Especially since he keeps getting distracted when it comes to fingering you.

Maybe he was nervous because he'd never finger a girl before, or maybe he was just a tease that liked to edge you. Who knows. But what you did know was that if you weren't touched soon then you were gonna go mad.

“Well, we’re worked up and I don't know how much more alone time we have, so I thought we could just grind together like we're fucking. But of course I won't put my cock inside, just rub it thru your wet folds.”

“Yes, yes, Coryo. Please, just make me cum.” You rattled out, feeling desperate. Hell, you’re at the point where you're tempted to just start playing with your own pussy to cum. That's how bad you needed to cum right now.

“Goddamn, baby, you're such a whiny little slut for me.” Coriolanus cooed, holding his cock and using the tip, oozing with precum, to rub against your clit in a teasing manner.

Well, it seems like Coriolanus Snow's the type that likes to play with his food before he eats it.

His metaphorical food. The boy's practically starving to death with nothing, but stewed cabbage and watery broth to eat. So, he doesn't play around with real food.

Hunger is a weapon; he knows that all too well.

But your lustful hunger for him is something that he uses as a weapon of sorts. He uses it, teasing and edging you, to make you beg to be his. Beg to be filled by him, just for a blissful release to satisfy the throbbing ache in your wet cunt.

Your wet cunt that’s hungry for his cock.

And by God, he's going to give you his cock.

Coriolanus stopped teasing your clit with his tip, only to roll his hips into yours, sliding his hard cock along your slippery wet folds. His fingers dug into your hips and yours dig into his biceps while you both let out loud, throat moans. The feeling of his cock sliding thru your folds was heavenly for the both of you.

With every movement Coriolanus made, you matched. Being the first time either of you have every done anything remotely sexual, your movements at times were sloppy and rushed. Frantic even. But it felt good.

The only sound in the room was that of your moans and heavy breaths mixed with the obscene sound of Coryo's cock slipping between your squelching wet pussy. Oh, the pressure of his cock rubbing against your cunt was delicious.

It felt better than any of the times you've fingered yourself, rubbed your clit, or humped your pillow.

Yes, dry humping Coriolanus was better than anything you've ever felt before.

“Feels so good, Coryo.” You mewled, clawing at him, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

“Yea.” Coryo huffed, his brow furrowed with sweat as he felt his cum heavy balls begin to tighten. Leaning forward, caging you in with his arms on either side of you, Coryo's breath ghosted your kiss bruised lips. “You feel close to cumming, baby? Huh, little slut, wanna cum?”

Nodding eagerly, you wrapped your arms around his back, scratching it in an attempt to bring him closer to you, as you let out a sharp moan. “So close. I'm so close, Coryo.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Coryo groaned, bucking his hips even sloppier and faster in a desperate attempt to make you both cum.

His fists are white knuckling his bedsheets while your nails rake up and down his back, attempting to anchor yourself as your release neared.

Groans and moans mixed with the wet, sweaty sound of skin slapping together and the loud squeaking of the old bed filled the air as you felt the rubber band inside of you snap.

You cum hard, harder then you've ever cummed in your entire time as a teenager. “Oh, Coryo. Coryo.” Tumbling from your lips in a sweet, moaning chant as your secret admirer continued to slide his cock between your folds.

The feeling of your cum, wet and flooding his dick, drove Coryo wild. It was better than anything he could ever dream of. Imaging how you feel when you cum during the nights he tightly fisted his cock doesn't even compare to the real feeling of your juices coating him, dripping messily down his dick and thighs as you squirt and soak the mattress beneath you.

Coryo's hips made one, two, three more tilts upswards towards yours before he’s burying his head in your shoulder and groaning out, “Fuck, darling. Fuck…”, as he cums, painting your pussy with ropes of his white hot cum.

Chest heaving as he pants to catch his breath, Coriolanus backs away from you, only to admire the was his cum decorates your glistening puffy pussy like fine pearls. Oh, if only he had a camera to take pictures of you. The site was so beautiful, so erotic.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He complimented, his voice a breathy murmur as he settled himself next to you.

Turning you head to look at him, you smile. “Yea?”

“Of course, baby.” Coriolanus replied, a smile coating his lips as he extended his arm out in a gesture for you to tuck into his side. “You're the most beautiful girl in the world.” He declared as you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso. “You're my girl, yea?” Coriolanus asked, his icy eyes looking a bit vulnerable, as he held you close.

Vulnerable. Now that's something you never thought you'd say about Coriolanus Snow. He always seemed so confident, but right now while asking if you're his he seemed to emit some form of vulnerability. Subtle, but still in his baby blues.

“Yea, I'm your girl.” You confirm with a love struck smile.

Coriolanus relaxed when your words washed over him. He has nothing to worry about. You were his now. All the hard work he did being your secret admirer paid off.

Turning his head to look at the alarm clock in his bedside, he sighed, “We need to get dressed. Tigris and Grandma'am will probably be home soon.”

Grandma'am and Tigris welcome you with sparkling smiles and happy hugs when Coryo introduced you as his girlfriend. Tigris was excited that Coryo had found somebody while Grandma'am was elated that the daughter of the late Colonel Halvir (who served with and died with her son, General Crassus Snow, during the war in District 12) was her grandson's girl.

You're happy that the Snows accept your brand spanking new relationship with Coryo because you knew that your mother wouldn't. And you know that your older brother's too busy with his new officer's commission in 12 to care either.

Just like Coryo said she would, Tigris dolled you up in a dress that she made. She even did your hair and makeup for the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy. She made you look like a princess.

And everyone knows that a princess needs her prince.

And Coryo's your prince, giving you a white rose to pin on your dress. It matches the one that he had pinned on his label.

Coriolanus Snow proudly walked into the Academy's ballroom, showing you off on his arm.

Everyone will know that you belong to him. And when people ask how you got together you'll tell them about Coriolanus being your secret admirer during the week of love.

It sounds like a plot of a Capitol TV rom-com. But, unknown to you, your love story with Coryo would play out more like a true crime thriller.

Like an episode of Dateline.

Except that he'll never harm you. No, he's just the sociopath, narcissist, manipulative snake that destroys everyone's lives to make you the queen to his king.

His First Lady Of Panem.

But that didn't matter at the moment. All that matters is that right now you're happy with your secret admirer.

With your Coryo.

And he's happy to finally be able to be with you, because stalking you all the time was fucking exhausting.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88, @v-love

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wwilloww · 6 months ago

Text

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened.

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit.

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind:

Are you going to come home?

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you.

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing.

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile.

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.”

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause.

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight.

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you.

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest.

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head.

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back.

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out.

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.”

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch.

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while.

“In a tree?”

“In a tree,” you confirm.

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.”

“Were you?” you smile.

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin.

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look.

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties.

“This,” he emphasizes.

“Oh.”

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider.

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.”

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t.

“I think you forget too quickly that I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win.

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.”

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you.

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening.

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands.

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you.

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes.

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands.

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.”

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.”

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off.

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much.

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.

“Oh. Okay.” Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this.

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.”

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else.

“Did that hurt?”

“No, not really.”

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.”

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.”

Jimin chuckles at that.

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm.

“Of course.”

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.”

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond.

“A toy?”

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch.

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”

The answer is easy. “Yes.”

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.”

“I want to be your toy.”

“Good.” He grins.

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch.

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it.

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful.

“Hmph.”

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief.

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black.

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?”

“Why?”

“Because I can see you dripping through them.”

You warm at the implication.

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself.

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you.

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you.

“I’m—“

“You’ve soaked your panties through.”

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you.

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed.

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker. It’s delightful.

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted.

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more?

He seems to notice your hesitation.

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress. You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what.

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious.

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips.

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.”

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine.

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out.

“Oops. Got a little caught up.”

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?”

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.”

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure.

“So needy. So desperate.”

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.”

“Don’t good toys say please?”

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you.

“Sir?”

“I—I… It just slipped out!”

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away.

“Patience, kitten.”

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,” loud and clear. He laughs at your expression.

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?”

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin.

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him.

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.”

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck.

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva.

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, Jimin.”

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in.

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too.

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight.

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up.

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back.

But then his eyes flicker away from yours.

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.”

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white.

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming.

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you.

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?”

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.”

You huff.

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.”

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp.

“Wha—”

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.”

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.”

Your eyes widen.

“Shit. I forgot.”

“I know you forgot.”

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.”

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.”

You roll your eyes.

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them.

“I should remind you why I asked you to do this?”

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin.

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.”

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on.

“There’s knowing you do it for me.”

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh.

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.”

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily.

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself.

“But—”

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?”

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?”

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face.

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.”

“Maybe they should.”

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door.

“Hoseok—”

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other.

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks.

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.”

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?”

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”

“Let me get dressed.”

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.”

Hoseok coughs.

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.”

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.”

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk.

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.”

You roll your eyes.

“Asshole.”

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless.

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.”

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

Text

“Nerd”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: After Yoongi encourages you to go out shopping with his friends as a way of getting to know Seoul, he's surprised to find out what a bookworm you are. (I suck at summaries, lol sorry)

Warnings: swearing,

A/N: Thanks to @vicky-chaos for this request! Tbh, I’m the exact same way as you described yourself, I have more books than I have shelf space for, lol!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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“Are you sure you won’t miss me too much?” You asked Yoongi as you pulled on your coat.

“It’s only a few hours, I think I’ll be able to manage.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Go have fun.”

“And you better make sure they get back in one piece.” He warned jokingly, turning to Hobi and Jimin, who’d been watching your whole exchange with amused grins.

“We will, don’t worry.” Hobi promised.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna know what angry Meow Meow looks like.” Jimin sniggered, ducking out the door before Yoongi could swat him, using the nickname for your boyfriend that he’d happened to overhear as they’d arrived eariler.

“Bye.” You said, giving him a quick peck.

“Bye, be safe.” He replied, waving as you and Hobi filed out the door.

It was strange, in a way, after having spent over a year doing the whole ‘long distance’ thing with you(or as he liked to refer to it, “fucking torture”), a couple hours apart while you went shopping with Hobi and Jimin should seem like nothing, but he couldn’t help noticing himself growing a bit antsy for your return as the afternoon passed.

He was still getting used to the fact that you were actually here in Seoul with him, that it wasn’t just a dream when he woke up every morning with you there next to him. Watching you not only settle in, but thrive in his city and with his circle of friends had almost made him fall in love with you all over again.

It was just beginning to grow dark outside when he heard the front door open.

“We’re back.” You called.

He rounded the corner to see Hobi helping you drag several heavy looking shopping bags through the door.

“Where’s Jimin?” Yoongi asked.

“Asleep in the car, Y/n tired him out. I think they could out-shop me.” Hobi chuckled, making you duck your head as you flushed, mumbling out an embarrassed “Shut up.”.

Yoongi grinned, happy to see you and his friend getting along. “Did you at least have fun?” He asked you.

“I did, I found lots of nice things.“ You said as you crouched to greet Holly, who’d been circling your feet excitedly. “What about you Hobi?”

“Yeah, it was a very educational trip.” He said with a grin. ”Are we still on for lunch on Sunday?”

“Definitely.” You nodded.

“I’ll see you then, bye!” He said, giving you and Yoongi a nod before ducking back out the door.

“Bye!”

“See you, Hoba.” Yoongi called, dragging you against him as soon as Hoseok was out of sight.

“I need a kiss.” He said seriously.

“Aha! So you did miss me?” Your face lit up as you grinned at him smugly.

“More than you know.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours before you could tease him further, relishing the contented sigh he felt you release at the contact. He loved knowing you were as gone for him as he was for you.

“Now, wanna show me what you got?” He asked, drawing back to look at you.

“Okay!” You nodded, grabbing a few of the bags, before heading for the living room to have more space to unpack everything.

“I got this book on Korean Folklore, I thought it looked interesting.” You explained, settling on the floor and digging through the first bag. “And this one’s about mid-century architecture, I thought you might like it. Ooh, and this one’s been on my wish list for ages, I was soo happy that I found it!”

Yoongi sat watching as you pulled out book after book, and a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth at your excitement.

“Why did you buy two of this one?” He asked suddenly, noticing two identical covers.

“One’s in my native language and the other one’s in Korean, I thought it would help me practice reading Hangul.” You said, not looking up as you continued to rummage in another bag. When you didn’t get a response, you glanced up to see him just staring at you with an amused expression.

“What?” You asked.

“I just didn’t realize you were such a nerd.” He said, chuckling.

“I am not!” You said defensively.

“I’m not making fun of you, I just think it’s cute,” He clarified. “I didn’t realize how much of a bookworm you were.”

“I didn’t mean to buy this many, I just got excited.” You said, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“I like it though, it’s fun seeing you excited.” He said. “It’s also kinda fun knowing there’s still some things we don’t know about each other yet, like little surprises.”

“I thought you didn’t like surprises?” You asked, leaning up to rest your hands on his knees.

“I like you though,” He said, leaning in. “So I’ll make an exception.”

“M’kay.” You grinned, closing the gap between you to catch his lips.

You were more than happy to be his exception, on this and many other things.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi blurb #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts one shot #bts requests #bts blurbs #bts blurb #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts x y/n #bts x reader #yoongi oneshot #7ndipity

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vioartemis · 1 year ago

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Friends?

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: One day, in the library, you catch Wednesday's attention... Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: none a/n: expect a part 2, not proof read, it was in my drafts for like 3months now so I can't guaranty it's not awful (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Wednesday pushed the library’s door and directly walked to the aisle she knew had the books she needed. After 10 minutes spent in said aisle, she let out a frustrated sigh; she couldn’t find the books, which meant someone either borrowed them already -which was unlikely, or the librarian forgot to put them back on the shelves.

Either way, it annoyed her.

Now she had to talk to the librarian to ask if the books were here, and it would probably take longer than necessary.

When she arrived at the desk with a blank expression, the woman was writing something on her computer, not sparing Wednesday a glance.

“I would like to borrow some books.” She said through gritted teeth, causing the librarian to look up

“What books?”

Wednesday put a piece of paper with the references of the books on the desk as an answer.

“Botanical curses & poisons, and The supernatural” the woman read out loud “You’re lucky, they’ve just got returned”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. Even if she did think it could’ve happened, she was still surprised. She didn’t actually think anyone else would ever borrow these books. It wasn’t common seeing someone read that kind of books -or read at all. And usually Nevermore students only read the books in the school’s library.

She didn’t hear the door while she was in the aisle, which meant the person was still there. Maybe she had found a classmate with the same interests as her? Which didn’t mean she would try to befriend them, but it was always good to know.

“If you’re looking for the girl, she’s in the aisles over there” the librarian said, as she had already put the books on the desk

Wednesday looked at her, a frown on her face, but nodded once and grabbed the books.

She then walked to the aisles the woman talked about. And here you were, looking at the books on the shelves, reading the back of one while holding another in your arms; Royal art of poison. Wednesday had read that book before, she recognize it was a good one.

Her attention then shifted on your face, even if she could only see your profile. She was sure she never saw you at Nevermore. She usually had a good memory for that kind of things, so maybe you didn’t have classes in common.

After looking you up and down, she walked out of the building to go back to Nevermore.

On the way there, she couldn’t help but think if she had seen you in the hallways, she would’ve never thought you would read this type of books.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The following week, Wednesday tried to find you in the school. Unconsciously at first, as she didn’t really care, but then it became more and more important to her as she couldn’t seem to see you. That frustrated her. You had to be somewhere.

And yet she couldn’t find you.

She always got what she wanted, it was unusual for her to ‘fail’. So naturally, she decided to go back to the library.

When she did, she wandered in the aisles, looking for you. Unsuccessfully. It was like you didn’t even exist.

She felt like she was losing her mind, and it wasn’t as fun as she anticipated.

Just as she was about to go back in the aisle she saw you in for the first time, she saw Thing out of the corner of her eye. He was pointing a nearby aisle, signaling you were in there.

You were indeed in the aisle, looking at the books on the shelf in front of you. Venomous was already in your hands. A book about earth’s deadliest creatures… Wednesday thought.

Then your hand rose up to pick up another book; The Black Dahlia.

Now Wednesday was really interested by you. She never met anyone who knew about her favorite unsolved murder case, let alone read about it.

She took some step closer to you and grabbed a book on the shelf.

“You might as well read this one, if you’re interested in the Black Dahlia case.” she said as she handed you the book

You gave her a surprised look, not expecting anyone to recommend you any books in that section, let alone about this case.

“Oh, thanks” you grabbed the book “Do you know much about this case?”

“Of course, for it is my favorite unsolved murder. How come you know about it?”

“I saw a documentary on tv yesterday. Just thought I’d read some more about it. It seems to be a very interesting case” you explained

“Indeed.” A little pause “So what are you? Werewolf? Siren? Psychic?”

You frowned, confused as to why she would ask that.

“Are you from Nevermore?” you asked

“Are you not?”

You shook your head.

“I’m at Jericho High, sadly”

“‘Sadly’?”

You nodded.

“There’s a bunch of idiots there. Like- a whole bunch. I don’t really fit in. They’re all about social medias, hating on outcasts for no reason”

Wednesday looked at you, waiting for you to continue and explain yourself.

“I prefer books, even if I have to admit that scrolling on Pinterest while listening to music can be addicting. As for outcasts… I’ve always been interested in them, especially vampires. But I mean- every ‘class’ of outcasts I read about was interesting”

The raven took a moment to think about what you just said.

“It’s unusual to see a normie who doesn’t hate outcasts. Are you sure you’re a normie?”

“Pretty sure, yeah”

She looked you up and down after that, analyzing you. You seemed to be honest, she didn’t sense any hostility coming from you.

The following days, Wednesday caught herself thinking about your conversation, and by extension, about you. As much as it pained her to admit, something in you attracted her. Or at least made her ant to know more about you, which led her to the library once again.

This time, you were sitting at a table, reading another book about poisonous plants, some other books stacked next to you.

“Are you planning to murder someone?” she asked as she sat on the chair facing you

“Holy shit…! Do you make a habit out of scaring people?” you asked, half joking, a hand on your chest after her voice made you jump

“It’s more of a hobby. Who is going to be your victim?”

“No one!” you chuckled, once your heartbeat calmed down a bit “I’m just trying to find information about Aconitum, like where it grows, etc”

“Why?”

“I want to experiment with it myself, simple curiosity” you shrug

So you did want to poison someone. Interesting. She thought.

“No, no, I can guess what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to kill anyone. But you never know when that kind of information can be useful”

“Indeed.” she nodded, even if she was a bit disappointed

“And if I did want to kill someone, I would probably use something else like Nightshade or the Nerium Oleander -but I’d have to find some first” you added “Anyways, I need to go, I have class… See you later, maybe?”

Wednesday looked at you as you packed your things and left the library, not without putting the books back on their shelves. You definitely had a little something that made her look forward to the next time she would be in your company. That thought surprised her; she usually wasn’t one to seek others’ company.

She stayed sat at the table for a few minutes, lost in thoughts, before standing up almost abruptly. She walked to the door and was about to leave, when the librarian called her.

“Hey, wait a sec!”

Wednesday turned to face the woman who got out from behind her desk. She handed something.

“What is that?”

“A micro-cassette recorder. It must have fallen from your friend’s bag when she left. I thought you could give it back to her”

“She’s not my friend.” Wednesday said blankly but took the object anyways

The librarian rolled her eyes at the smaller girl and went back to her desk while Wednesday left the library, putting your recorder in her backpack.

“What’s that?”

Wednesday looked up from her typewriter; Enid was holding the recorder.

“A micro-cassette recorder.” she simply said “Put it back where it was, Enid.”

“Oooh what are you doing with it? Recording podcasts? I thought your thing was novels” the blonde continued, not listening

“‘My thing’ is novels.”

“Then what’s on this recorder?”

Before the raven could say anything else, the werewolf pressed the play button.

“Okay… Is it recording? Ah, yes, the numbers are moving. Okay okay… um… Where do I even start? God I must look so dumb talking to that thing… Anyways. Uh… Day 1 of research on outcasts, I guess? Is that how they do in movies?”

The recorder stopped playing, for Wednesday had pressed the button again, taking it from Enid’s hands.

“Whose voice is that? It’s not yours”

“Of course not. It’s…” she paused, looking for the right words “… it belongs to someone I met at the library.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?? I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Why do you have her recorder then?”

“She forgot it. I just keep it until I can give it back.”

“Hmhm, sure”

Enid said with a big smile, before going back to her activities: laying on her bed and scroll on Instagram, probably. The other girl watched her do so, then went back to her writing, putting the recorder on her desk.

After half an hour of peaceful writing, she heard Enid tell her she was going in Yoko’s dorm for whatever gossip session they had every week. From the corner of her eye, Wednesday saw the recorder move closer to her.

Thing was pushing it in her direction.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you want to hear more?” Thing signed

“I wouldn’t like it if anyone read my novel without asking me first.”

“But you’re curious”

“… Of course.”

“Listen to it then! Maybe you’ll be able to help her. She seems nice, she won’t get upset” Thing signed quickly, almost as curious as Wednesday to hear your research

“Fine. Give it to me.”

Thing pushed the recorder further so she could grab it. She did, and pressed play again, but not after a glance at Thing.

“A word to Enid and I’ll snap all your fingers.”

“Hmhm… so I borrowed this book in Jericho’s library about outcasts -I’m surprised they have books about that considering the way they see them. I think it was a pretty interesting book!”

Wednesday listened to what you had to say on that book, then fast-forwarded to a bit later on the record.

“… lost count of the days at this point. It’s crazy how I can’t find anything more than what I already read! It’s like normies’ knowledge about outcast is only the basics -not to say the clichés. God, I wish I was at Nevermore. I’m sure they have sooo much more books there. Not only about outcasts, but about poisonous plants as well!”

The raven was about to stop listening when you started speaking again.

“Oh, yesterday, I met a girl at the library! She advised me to read a certain book about The Black Dahlia case. She said she was from Nevermore. Well, she didn’t deny it. I wonder what’s her gift… But it’s a weird question to ask, isn’t it? I bet she knows lots of outcasts if she studies there… of course she does, what I am even saying?”

The record stopped by itself after that.

Wednesday had the tiniest smile on her face. You were smart, that she had noticed when you first talked, yet hearing you speak freely like that made you sound so clumsy. You were passionate, that was for sure.

“Thing, do you think you can find her quickly?”

A knock on your bedroom window caught your attention. Your stopped what you were doing and opened it. To your surprise, a hand -without a body- ran (?) in your room.

You looked at it, mouth agape, certainly not expecting that.

“Hi…?” you said hesitantly

The hand stopped on your desk and starting signing.

“I uh… don’t speak sign language… sorry”

The hand paused, as if it was sighing.

“You can�� hear me?” you asked, surprised

It gave you a thumbs up as an answer, before showing its palm to you. A message was written on it with a marker: ‘You forgot your recorder at the library. Call me.’ Followed by a phone number.

“Thank you”

You said while typing the number on your phone, before calling it.

On the other side, Wednesday was waiting in front of Enid’s computer. She remembered how to use it from last time Enid told her. When she saw you were calling, she pressed the spacebar to pick up.

She certainly didn’t expect to see you with Thing on your shoulder.

“Hi!” you said with a smile “So you found my recorder? I was afraid someone random found it…” you paused “Your room is… more colorful that I would’ve imagined”

“It’s my roommate’s side.” Wednesday frowned, a bit offended you could think she would decorate her room this way

“Oh. What does your side looks like then?”

She turned Enid’s computer to show you -quite proudly.

“Ohh it’s nice! Wait- you have a typewriter?? That’s so cool! Like the overall decoration”

Thing typed lightly on your shoulder.

“Oh, yes, sorry. He’d like me to drive him back to Nevermore. Which I can understand, it’s a bit far away… So, we were wondering if you could open a window or something? I don’t think your principal would appreciate if someone from outside came without permission”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Let’s say it’s for keeping my recorder safe, that way we’re even” you smiled

Wednesday nodded, and said she would open their window, just before your parents called you from downstairs, asking who you were talking to. While you were answering them, Thing gave the raven a thumbs up.

Of course it was your plan all along, bringing her here… she thought, a slight smile forming on her lips again. Well played.

After going out by your bedroom window, took your bike, put Thing in the little basket attached to the handlebar, and started making your way to Nevermore. On the way there, you talked with Thing; he used your phone to type and made it read the text out loud so you could hear.

When you arrived at Nevermore’s gate, you left your bike against the low wall near the entrance. To your surprise, the gate wasn’t closed -which was a good thing. You got on the school’s territory, walking silently to the school itself.

You had only ever seen it in pictures, and you had to admit, it was way cooler to see it for real.

Thing tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality, and pointing at a big round window with a metallic spider web on it. It was probably the dorm you had to reach.

“You could’ve told me it was on the fourth floor…”

You examined the architecture of the school, before cracking your knuckles and starting to climb.

“If I fall… I hope I won’t break too many bones”

After what seemed like an eternity, and three times almost falling, you finally reached the balcony. You took a moment to lay there, catching your breath, Thing patting your arm reassuringly.

He then disappeared inside and came back with the raven right as you were standing back up.

“Thing said you were hurt.” Wednesday said, her eyes shifting from your face to your hands, bruised by the climbing

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve done rock-climbing with my parents before, I’m used to it”

“… If you say so.” she paused, and handed you your recorder

“I almost forgot about it” you chuckled, taking it from her hands and putting it in a pocket of your vest “Thank you”

Wednesday nodded. You did the same, as a goodbye, and were ready to go back home, when she spoke again.

“If you want more books about outcasts or something else…” she stepped forward and gave you a piece of paper “… let me know.”

You took the paper and opened it. Another phone number. You had guessed the previous one wasn’t hers, and according to what Thing told you, she never used the phone some guy gifted her.

You smiled and put the paper in your pocket.

“Thank you”

You were about to leave, but you remembered something.

“You never told me your name”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n”

“Wednesday. Wednesday Addams.”

“It was nice seeing you, Wednesday” you smiled “It’s probably going to sound weird… But I enjoy your presence, I feel understood. I hope we’ll be good friends. Anyways, good night!”

With that, you climbed down the wall, disappearing from her field of view.

Wednesday looked at the sky; it was dark, lots of clouds, but the moon was still visible behind them. It even illuminated the raven’s face.

Thing tapped in her direction.

“I only tolerate her presence. Don’t imagine things.”

More tapping, and what looked like he was rolling his eyes.

“One more word and you’re locked in the drawer until I decide otherwise.”

Thing saw it as the sign to go back inside, not wanting to risk it.

When she was alone on the balcony, Wednesday’s eyes shifted to your small form while you were getting on your way home.

Her little smile was back, that smile which was so unusual to see on her face, that only the people she really cared about ever saw.

Friends, hm? I suppose that’s what we are.

[Next part]

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday #wednesday x fem reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday netflix

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girldriveroscar · 22 days ago

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my sister disagreed with me when i said oscar wins the “driver with the sluttiest little waist” award. do you agree with me and if so do you have photographic evidence

anon i am so glad you asked.

are we talking about the same oscar piastri? LIKE. oscar-doesn't fill out his race suit around the middle making him look extra hipped out because his waist is so invisible-piastri? that guy? because if i have to suffer the second-hand embarrassment of this ill-fitting race suit we are getting it CLEARED in the books that its only fitting like this because oh did a piece of lint just fly by? oh no just oscars INVISIBLE waist... ITS TINY.

I mean... the comparison speaks for itself...

AND HERE COMES THE BACKTALK....

ive seen the pics alright. yes, Charles is Dorito-esque. yea. max has got girlboobs for days okay. landos a grab-able manslut by gods all-mighty designation. yeah I've. seen. it. all. ill go as far as agreeing with all these statements!

...what you fail to consider in this discussion. is that tiny waistness expands beyond the dimensions of the assumed arguments. sure a shoulder-to-waist ratio can do wonders in I-need-to-grab-him-ism however.. that's only one half of the whole pie! we fail to consider the entire realm that is the shelf life of this pie. oscar piastri is not working his gluteus medius like an onlyfans model charging double for backshots for you to dismiss his ass-to-waist ratio. i repeat oscar piastri is not doing 15 reps of bouncethatass DAILY for u to ignore the shelf he's procured specifically for that freaky ass quadlock admin to slide him into skin tight lycra and say now turn to the side *tongue emoji*. if your ass fat enough that its defined in baggy ass race overalls. i mean. do i even need to repeat myself that the fabrics not even touching his waist…

one must consider what makes the waist small. What makes the waist slutty. leclercs tight ass is not the bag of chips you crave with your 6 inch sub. What You Want. With Your Six Inch Sub. Is Two pale white Globes of asscheek filling Both hands. To sluttify the waist. you need a landing dock. you need a point of reference. you need ass!

if you're still unconvinced. well.

look me in my eyes and tell me every time he shimmies into those black fireproofs. Popping his stupid little hands on his hips. youre not Viscerally reminded that Btw yea he Does have baddies wrapping their legs all the way around his tiny waist. BTW YEAAAA.

and the Real slutmanship of it all is that oscar doesnt DO it for anyone. hes not even trying dude. he just looks like that for the love of the game… like sorry but theres nothing sluttier than accidentally popping a whole lip out ur thong without even knowing. which is essentially what's happening here. i rest my case.

Cont. gallery for those still in denial…

#entered a fugue state writing this #op81 they're discussing the societal implications of your phat ass on tumblr #op81 how will you respond.#idek man.. I don't know...#hope this is convincing enough anon #asking myself what its all for.. idk man. idk.#do i taint the op81 tag with this bs... yes methinks...#oscar piastri #asks

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probablysimpledreams · 9 months ago

Text

You're All I Desire

(Dazai x reader: NSFW)

a/n: omfg it has been a moment since I've written a full fic but here I am !!! the idea for this one has been on my mind ALL DAMN DAY bc the Dazai brainrot has been so real lately my man <3 my man <3 my mannnnn <333 so enjoy some smut xoxo

cw: mention of masturbation (reader getting off by thinking of Dazai & Dazai getting off by thinking of reader), use of clit vibrator, gender neutral reader however reader does have female parts, Dazai refers to reader as "Bella" aka his famous Belladonna petname, Dazai eating reader out, thigh hickeys

word count: a tad over 1.6k

You mentally curse yourself as you pull up to your apartment complex, putting the car in park. After turning off the car, you and Dazai begin heading up into your apartment. Of course of all the days in the world, the day you're assigned to help Dazai with a case is the day you leave all the documents you needed to give him at home. It already took you an entire week to convince Kunikida to let you take them home so you could continue work later into the night with the comfort of your own TV and snacks right at your fingertips. If only you had woken up ten or twenty minutes earlier, then you wouldn't have been rushing out the door this morning.

"Okay they should be-," your eyes widen at the disastrous sight that was awaiting you behind the door. "FUCK ME!" you exclaim as you throw your shoes at the entranceway, Dazai's faint laugher in the background as he follows your lead. "I promise it's usually this bad," you sigh as you turn to Dazai, turning back to the mess of an apartment in front of you. This week you promised to cat sit for your friend, assuring them the cat would feel right at home in your apartment. What your friend failed to mention was their cat's love for wrecking havoc in new places.

"It's cute~" Dazai chuckles as he looks around your messy yet cozy apartment. "You have a good eye for decor," he mentions as he begins walking around the living room, giving himself a self guided tour. You smile at his compliment, trying not to show how nervous having him in your apartment makes you.

It was pretty obvious to everyone at the office that you had a little crush on Dazai. I mean, how could you not? Not only was he beautiful, but he was funny and smart and so much deeper than the persona he puts on for the world. Something deep inside wants to unravel these layers he hides himself under, both literally with bandages and emotionally with his charming nature.

You only allowed yourself to fantasize so much about him though since you were unsure what he felt about you. Sure he flirted with you almost daily, but at what point is that Dazai just simply being Dazai? You always allowed yourself to indulge in his flirting advances, but never forgot that it was just a workplace crush.

"Shit and they were right here," you sigh, palm of your hand hitting your forehead in frustration as you stand in front of your desk. Dazai looked over your shoulder, scanning the desk covered in old papers, a random book, pictures of you and your friends, and random trinket. A small smile forms on his lips as he studies these items, imaging you sitting here at night hard at work. The thought made his heart skip a beat. You were too cute for your own good.

"Time to get searching then!" Dazai exclaims, a little too excited for your liking. However, he was right as these documents needed to be found as soon as possible. You began looking around the desk as Dazai trailed off to other rooms. Too focused on finding these documents and keeping your job, you didn't may much attention to him doing as he pleased. Dazai smiled and hummed to himself as he peaked into your bedroom, admiring how your personality was so clearly visible through your decor. He couldn't help himself as he began scanning your book shelf before moving to your bed, poking the random plushies threatening to fall off your bed. He then finds his way to your nightstand, chuckling at the random assortment of things you sleep by. After scanning the small table, he raises an eyebrow at the halfway opened top drawer. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opens the drawer fully. Oh and is he happy he did.

"Phew okay Dazai I found the papers! We should get going or else-," your jaw almost dropped as you stared at the sight in front of you. Never in a million years did you image you would walk into your bedroom to find Dazai sitting on your bed, twirling your vibrator lazily in his hand. "Put that away. We're leaving."

"But I didn't get a chance to play with my new toy," he pouts.

"Dazai, I'm being serious." You try not to show how embarrassed you are, knowing it will only fuel his flames.

"So I am," he smirks as you walk towards him, trying to take the vibrator from his hands. "Tell me Bella~ Tell me all the fantasies you have of me when playing with yourself~" he teased, waving the wand around. You go silent at his taunt, face feeling flushed as you try to get words out. I mean of course you can't help yourself some nights, allowing yourself to get fully lost in the idea of Dazai touching you, pleasuring you. His name leaving your mouth in a muffled whimper as you finally find release. But he didn't know this, right? Because that would be weird. You wanted to yell at him for even thinking such nasty things, but your face gave the truth away.

Dazai's heart nearly stopped beating as he watched you fight yourself at his taunts. You usually never get this worked up over him, that's when he realizes: you actually do get off to him. His head almost exploded at the thought of you alone in your room, desiring him and only him. He was only half way kidding when he made this comment to you, not realizing you felt as much for him as he did you. He's had a full blown crush on you since you began working for the agency, but never expected his advances to go anywhere. He also was guilty of getting himself off to thoughts of you, letting desire run rapidly through his veins most nights. However, he wrote it off as another sin he will one day have to answer for. He would have never expected you to commit the same sin. The idea drove him crazy. Without thinking, he pulled you by your shirt into a sloppy kiss.

Your eyes widen as he pulls you in suddenly, but it doesn't take long for you to melt into the kiss. He helped you get seated on his lap, your body slowly grinding against his as the kiss deepened. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tugging at his hair as you two continued making out on your bed, like two horny teenagers. The last thing on either your or Dazai's mind was getting back to the office as you felt a familiar wetness between your legs, and Dazai's hardening cock. The two of you pull away from each other's lips, a smile on his face as you pant.

"You're easy to get worked up~" he teased, making you roll your eyes and chuckle. Even in a heated moment he was too much, and you loved him for. "Here, let me help you." He shifts where he is sitting, lowering you onto your back. Once you're comfortably laying on your back, he slides your pants and underwear off so he can begin softly kissing your thighs. You whine as his lips leave soft, teasing kisses along your flesh.

"A-aah," you shut your eyes as he bites down on your inner thigh, sucking on the skin until a dark mark is formed. He chuckles before tracing the area with his tongue, leaving more soft kisses along this sensitive area of your body. "D-Dazai....please.....please touch me," you whine, becoming impatient as he repeats this process along your other thigh.

"How could I ever say no to you, ______~" he smiled as he turned the vibrator on, immediately finding the highest setting. You scream out as the toy made contact with your clit, an amused smile spreading across Dazai's face. He began moving the wand up and down, eyes glued to the way your body trembled as the vibrations shot through your body. Your hands began gripping the sheets as you quietly moaned out his name.

"That won't do," he sighed before applying more pressure to how he was holding the wand, increasing the vibrations on your clit.

"D-DAZAI!" you exclaim.

"Much better~" he teases as he continues playing with you, practically drooling at the sight of you. You're so close to coming, and Dazai can tell. You whine as he suddenly pulls the toy away from you, head shooting up to look at him and see what on earth he thinks he's doing.

"Dazai what the f-OH FUCK," you throw your head back as his mouth makes contact with your swollen clit. You moan as his tongue swirls around, his hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs wide open. You scream a mix of curses and his name as your legs shake, Dazai's face becoming slick with your juices. It doesn't take too long until you reach your climax, pulling at his hair as your thighs practically suffocate him. Dazai doesn't slow down, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you ride out your high. Your legs continue to shake as you try to steady your breathing, watching as he sits up to wipe his face, massive grin shining on his face.

You smile up at him, starting to sit up yourself. "We should probably actually start hea-," you're cut off by him pushing you back down on the bed with one hand as his other hand begins undoing his belt.

"Oh, Bella," he smirks, "we're only getting started~"

#bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut

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neocrias · 2 months ago

Text

Two worlds apart

synopsis: After having some strange dreams about other dimensions, you take off on a journey to explore the nearby forest. What you hadn't expected was falling asleep next to a fairy circle and waking up to a very peculiar - and handsome - nymph close to you.

pairings: jun x reader

wc: 6k

aus: sweet as possible; star-crossed lovers

warnings: cursing; reader is referred to as a girl

Light...There's so much light. And a breeze, too. So soft, passing through your hair. Everything is so calm and apparentely good, but there's something missing and a strange feeling in your chest rises as you take a deep breath. Finally, a heat covers the light from where you laid, and all you can see is the pair of rosy cheeks, plump lips and a glowing skin hovering on top of you. That's when your heart fills up entirely: there's nothing to miss now. He's here.

You stand up in a hurry, feeling your heart pounding as a droplet of sweat runs down your temple. Your hand runs to your chest, sensing it rising and falling rapidly as you scan the dark room around you, getting each second more familiar with the well-known bedroom.

– Not this again… – You run your hands over your face, trying to recover from the fright that the dream so realistically gave you. An emptiness spreads through your body as quickly as the cold night and the small cottage seems smaller than it ever was. You look around, your eyes getting used to the darkness as the silhouettes of the furniture become clearer. – I need water.

You get up, looking for the simple kitchen beyond the walls of the small room. The ancient wood creaking under your feet as you tried vehemently to ignore the involuntary pain in your heart. Why do I always feel so bad after these dreams?

Why do I miss so much something that I don't know what is?

The water you were pouring into your glass almost overflows in the midst of your drowsiness and agitated state of mind, causing you to take a few steps back. Your head lifts again to the kitchen sink, looking beyond it and through the window that surrounded it. The impression of seeing a bright light amidst the darkness of the forest startles you for a few seconds, but the vision soon dissipates, leaving only a darkness too frightening to stare at for long. "Enough, this has to stop."

–And how's life as a reclusive hermit? – Ahrin, your best friend, asks over the phone, her voice slightly shaken by the audio.

– I don't know… I guess normal. – You answer, monotonously, popping another snack into your mouth as you absent-mindedly watch the TV on some uninteresting channel. – To tell you the truth, I've been having some strange dreams. I don't know if they're memories of when I used to come here as a child, but they always make me feel a bit sentimental.

– Girl… what if you're being haunted by your dead grandmother? What if she doesn't want you there? – Ahrin's voice is laced with humor and you let out a muffled laugh.

– I guess if my grandmother didn't want me here she wouldn't have left me this cottage in her will, would she? – You scoff, rolling your eyes.

– Yeah, so I think you're going crazy with the solitude and all the bush and forest around you. – She concludes. – “The Shining” ass type of thing. Please don't kill your wife and child.

– It's always so comforting to talk to you, Ahrin. – You ironize with a scoff. – I don't know… these dreams have been disturbing me too much, I always wake up with the feeling that something is missing. It's like I'm suffering. Ahrin, do you believe in…

But a loud noise suddenly interrupts you, making you look straight at the bookcase behind the television.

– Y/n…? Are you still there?

– I'll call you back, Ahrin. – You answer, hanging up. Getting up, you notice that a book from the last shelf has fallen onto the cottage's shag carpet, and you roll your eyes at yet another of the strange occurrences this house has provided you with.

Your life in the city used to be very stressful. The exhausting routine of working for a large company took all your time. And that's why, when your distant and reclusive grandmother passed away, leaving you the cottage where she had lived for most of her life as her only inheritance, you thought it was a great idea to take a few months off for yourself, quitting your job and living off small savings while taking some time to rebuild your life bit by bit.

However, life in isolation in the small cottage on the edge of the forest also had some stresses on a psychological level. At first, everything seemed perfect, but over time, constant signs began to terrify you: things falling, doors and windows opening and the repeated dreams - every night, they revealed themselves to you as something new, comforting you among the lights and breezes, until you spotted that mysterious figure with an undefined face and woke up, panting and with a feeling of enormous emptiness. Of course you tried to rationalize these events, but you couldn't help letting your superstitious mind take you to darker places, and at times you could swear you were being haunted by some kind of ghost or otherworldly creature.

Life without people was also a challenge: although you hated the crowded spaces of the city, and always refused to go out to big parties or restaurants full of people, being absolutely sure that you would love being able to be alone for a few months in the chalet, now this reality was turning against you, and the loneliness was starting to show. Talking to yourself was good, and a very common habit of yours, but sometimes you felt like you really needed someone by your side to listen to you, if only for a few moments. The loneliness was so widespread that last week you found an injured bird in your yard and didn't think twice about naming it, caring for it for days and crying tears when you had to return it to the wild. "I could have kept it a little longer."

Putting away your daydreams, you stood to pick up the book and return it to its original place, but something about the title startles you, giving you a very strange feeling: Fairies and Other Magical Beings, the letters say in spaced golden graphs across the thick green velvet cover.

As you looked at the book, a scene flashed through your mind.

– Grandma, what are fairies? – You asked as you looked curiously at the book on the top of the shelf. Your feet stretched as far as they could towards the curious artifact, but you still couldn't reach it.

– Ah, dear, fairies are very interesting creatures. They live in the forest and are very tiny. – Your grandmother's rough hand ran through your hair, messing it up a little. – But don't confuse them with the nymphs: they also live in the forest, but they are responsible for the elements of nature. There are the water nymphs, like the ondines, the air nymphs, like the sylphs…

– And the sylphs live in the forest behind your house! – You asked, excited by the subject.

– Of course they do. – Your grandmother's smile gradually grew, forming wrinkles around her eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered this moment that had been stored in the back of your mind for so long. Your grandmother's smile, always a symbol of sweetness and affection for you, took on a sinister air of mystery as you remembered that day - as if she knew something you didn't, and was proud of it.

You shake the thoughts away, staring at the book in your hands for a while before opening it and scanning the chapters fiercely. Fairies. Sylphs. Elves. Elementals. Forests. Potions. Circles. Magic.

– Shit, am I being haunted by a… fairy?

– Okay, recap this for me, please… Do you think you have a fairy living with you? – Ahrin's voice resounded with laughter through the cell phone line.

– Yeah… A nymph, to be precise. – You answer, focused on carefully removing the fragrant apple pie from the oven. – They live in places like this, isolated forests. It's quite common, in fact, for people to see these apparitions in rural towns, really. Just google it.

– Yeah, yeah, it's all the same. Girl, are you okay? Do you want me to come and visit you? – Ahrin asks, starting to sound a little more worried and cautious. You roll your eyes at your friend's tone, knowing that you really were sounding a bit crazy with all that talk of magical creatures. For a few moments, you regret having told anyone about these daydreams: maybe you really were going mad because of the solitude in the cottage. Maybe that warm pie in your hands was another sign that you were crazy.

Thinking to yourself, you roll your eyes, frustrated at having let yourself go so far.

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that. – You finally reply. – I have to go, I'm busy in the kitchen.

With an “okay, bye” rather suspicious, Ahrin hangs up the call, and all that's left is the tortuous silence and the incredible smell of your baking. Tempted to eat the pie, you control yourself, leaving it cautiously on the small kitchen table.

– Now let's see if I'm right or going completely mad. – You whisper to yourself, staring at the pie with your arms crossed and a sudden, strange feeling that you're being watched.

Shrugging, you walk to the bedroom, ready to sort out some things on your laptop.

– No. fucking. way. – The words come slowly out of your mouth. – So it's true.

The half-empty pie tin stares at you with overwhelming irony. The leftover pieces of pie, cut in an imprecise and rounded way, no longer looked as tasty and lively as they did when they were first taken out of the oven: now, they looked almost stale. And absolutely devoured, in your own home, by someone who hadn't been you. But that was the least of it, of course.

You run to the bookshelf in the living room, placing your hands on the famous greenish book, endlessly searching through its pages without any kind of calm or order, almost making a few tears in the process.

“Fairies and nymphs usually accept gifts from humans, as long as they have been left willingly. Some of their favorites are baskets of fresh fruit, freshly-baked pies, pretty flowers or nectar juices. Be careful, though, because once a food or drink is touched by a magical creature, its fruitful and vital energy is taken away, and the food will no longer do anyone any good. Never consume the remains of a fairy or nymph.”

Your eyes go from the book to the rotten-looking pie, making you frown a little. You decide that the best thing you can do now is throw the pie away, being careful not to touch it any more than necessary.

Okay. Now you know what's been plaguing you for the last few months, but how do you stop it? How do you stop the dreams and get that crazy nymph out of your cottage?

“A good way to communicate with the fairies is to go to the places where they live: forests, fields and flowerbeds are good examples. Leaving offerings such as those mentioned above can arouse gratitude in these little creatures, thus guaranteeing you friends and companions who can help you when needed.”

– Good. – You sighed, dropping the book on the nearest table as you prepared in the kitchen to fill a basket with all the fruit, flowers and baked goods you could find in the little cottage. – Now I have to go into the middle of the forest to feed these creatures in exchange for a little peace. It's the height of it.

You looked up unconsciously, as if asking some greater force to help you. With the cloudy, cold weather outside, the urge to stay at home was great: but you had to do it. If it was going to guarantee you at least one peaceful night's sleep, without those strange dreams and the feeling of loss, then it was worth it.

A shiver ran down your spine as you surveyed the empty cottage one last time before closing the front door behind you.

The book, still open on the table, illustrated a very important last paragraph, which your haste had prevented you from reading:

“Be very careful with fairy circles. In dense woods or forests, it is common to find mushrooms planted in a circular shape, almost on purpose. These are actually powerful portals to the world of fairies and nymphs: and as tempting as it may seem to travel to another dimension, the ethereal world of nymphs holds far more magic than a human heart can bear. Never enter a fairy circle.”

You don't know exactly how many minutes have passed since you entered the dense forest, but the thin mist doesn't leave you much sunlight to guide you. It's the first time since you moved into the cottage that you've risked walking alone through the forest which, despite being isolated, still seemed full of dangers. You vaguely remembered walking among these same trees in early childhood, but you understood that a child's mind finds these natural mysteries much more enchanting than the troubled mind of a lonely young adult.

The cold wasn't tearing, but it was a little uncomfortable. The warmth permeated your skin without burning, but left an ominous reminder that it was all around you, and the air you inhaled went deep into your lungs.

You didn't have to go that far to deliver a basket to a bunch of hypothetical nymphs, but you wanted to make sure you wouldn't be bothered by any more strange beings - whatever they might be. So, when you reach a clearing after a long walk, you decide that's where you're going to stop and sit down to rest for a while.

– Okay, here are the fruits. – You grumble, holding out the basket to the empty space in front of you. – They're not very fresh, because it's not the season, but…

You shrug, feeling a sudden tiredness take over your body.

– Now, please, please, – you plead, putting your hands together in prayer. – Take these strange dreams away from me. I can't stand it any longer. There's something, here, – and your index finger travels to your chest, pressing lightly – that hurts every time I wake up.

But before you could complain any more about how uncomfortable it was, your eyes began to get heavier and heavier, along with your limbs. Of course, your rational side wouldn't let you sleep in the middle of the forest, but it didn't seem to be working, as if there was some kind of trance moving you towards it. Yes, leaning a little and lying down on the damp grass seemed the right thing to do. Naturally, that forest was calling you, and you could swear you heard a soft voice moaning some kind of deep incantation, guiding you as your eyes closed softly. And just like that, you fell asleep.

Without even realizing how many mushrooms surrounded you.

Light… lots of light. And sparkles through the light green trees, as if everything was shimmering. The slight rustle of leaves above you calmed you down. Everything seemed perfect, even the slight warmth of the sunlight above. It's when your eyes open a little wider that this light is dimmed, and all you can see are rosy cheeks and plump lips, hovering above you as your heartbeat increases.

"It's happening again, another one of those dreams that messes with me,” you think.

But as soon as you blink your eyes hard, hoping to wake up, you are faced with a new sight as soon as you open them wide: a pair of eyes. Brown. Dark. Deep under the light flutter of curious eyelashes.

You let out an exclamation of surprise and the air around you seems to speed up. The breeze, once calm, becomes desperate along with the pair of eyes above. The leaves around the clearing begin to fly around you and you finally sit down on the ground where you were lying before.

Your eyes search for the person you had never seen before, even though he appeared in all your dreams with his mysterious and unrevealed face. Your heart beats harder than ever and you bring one of your hands to your chest to try to stop the feeling that closes your throat.

But there was no one in the clearing apart from you - and, of course, the leaves flying wildly around you.

– I think she can see me. – A sweet, unsure voice practically whispers next to you, but there's no owner for that familiar yet distinctive sound.

– Stop being a coward, Jun. – A second voice joins the conversation, a little harsher. Your eyes scan the clearing, but there's no one there. A sense of dread runs through your body, chills running up your spine as you feel your head getting more and more airborne and your blood freezing.

– Who's there? – You take the initiative to ask, your voice shaking in the process. The flying of the leaves slows down for a few seconds, limiting itself to a few smoother glides.

– I don't think she can see us now. – The same second voice comments, and you quickly turn in the direction you felt the sound come from. To your surprise, the sudden movement of your torso brings you face to face with a new sight: a man.

You almost scream with shock, but something inside you stops you, and you find yourself completely dazzled by the sight: a young man with fine features, platinum hair and flowing white clothes was watching you carefully, leaning over your figure as you sat on the ground. Your eyes met and you finally understood. It was him. The boy who appeared in your dreams.

The rosy cheeks, the lips. It was all recognizable to you. His face was centimeters apart, but you couldn't feel his breath on you, and for a few seconds it seemed too unreal. Almost as if it was just that - a dream. Translucent and bright.

His eyes flickered in your direction a few times, but you just watched him in silence. For some reason, the apparition didn't disconcert you: on the contrary, you felt calmer than you had in months. Your heart still beats heavily, and something like nervousness didn't leave your chest. Something inside you told you that this was an important moment, but you didn't understand why.

– Who are you?

– You shouldn't be here.

You say in unison. The boy hesitates a little, unsure, and it's almost as if he's afraid to address you.

You look around. The leaves in the clearing have stopped fluttering and the wind no longer blows hard. Now, only a light breeze hung around, caressing your cheeks and hair.

– Where am I? – You asked emphatically, looking out at the unusually bright and ethereal clearing.

– In the realm of the fairies. A place highly unsuitable for humans. – The same harsh voice you heard earlier utters, and a dark figure beside you catches your eye, making you turn to face the new person in the clearing.

Another young man materialized in front of you. This one, also with delicate and beautiful features, but dressed entirely in black, with sharper eyes and a wry smile on his face. You feel like you know him, but you've never seen him before.

– We need to take you back. – The one in front of you says again, in a disappointed tone.

– So you're the ones living in my house? – You ask acquisitively and the two young men exchange guilty glances. The one in white arches his eyebrows, but the one in black just shrugs, unconcerned.

– You're the one who took me there, so… – The black one says, nonchalantly. – And Jun is just plain stupid.

– Sicheng… – The one in white warns, reproaching him.

– Jun… – The other imitates his tone, mocking his friend.

– Jun? – The name escapes your lips before you can think, and it sounds like a question. For a second, the name seemed strangely familiar, but now you couldn't understand where the knowledge came from.

– That'd be me. – He replies, gently, giving you a cautious smile. The young man extends his hand towards you and you accept it. As soon as your hands touch, a warmth spreads through your body and a shiver runs down your spine. There is no roughness in Jun's hand, and his touch is so soft that you hardly feel it.

You finally stand up, coming face to face with the boy. It's only then that you notice a subtle movement behind Jun's back, and you lean a little to see what it is.

Wings. Yes, he's a fairy.

– Air nymph. – Sicheng interrupts your thoughts, waving one of his hands in front of you to snap you out of your trance. – There is a difference.

You're startled - especially at the possibility of that strange being reading your thoughts.

– Sorry, it's involuntary. – He explains himself, again interfering in your thinking. – And also hella funny. – Jun arches his eyebrows at him, incredulous and impatient.

– Let's get you out of here. – Jun gently changes the subject. – Don't worry about him.

– Why do you appear in my dreams? – You pluck up the courage to ask. You didn't want to leave without answers.

Jun's eyes widen and an expression of surprise takes over his face. Sicheng follows him, looking extremely curious about the situation.

– For God's sake, Jun… What have you done? – Sicheng asked, turning to his alleged friend. Your eyes turn to the two boys alternately, trying to get some clue as to what was going on - and what they didn't want to tell you.

– What are you talking about? You were the first to interact directly with her! A human. – And Jun's tone was a mixture of accusation and forced contempt, trying to reproach Sicheng, who was unfazed.

– In my defense, it was her who interacted directly with me.

– I didn't do any of that! – You defend yourself, seeing the two pairs of dark eyes turn in your direction. Sicheng grinned mischievously arching one eyebrow in your direction.

– Are you sure about that, cutie? – He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You don't lose confidence, but you begin to wonder if you haven't actually interacted with a fairy in recent months, even indirectly.

And only then, paying attention to Sicheng's smug posture, do you realize that he doesn't have a pair of translucent wings floating behind him.

So he's not a nymph…?

– Touché. – He jokes before you can vocalize your feelings. The boy then uncrosses his arms, tilting his head a little before surrounding himself in a black smoke that gradually grew around him. From head to toe, feathers appear on his body as his form shrinks in size.

The transformation before your eyes makes you open your mouth in shock, but it all starts to make a little more sense when the man in front of you takes the form of a bird. And not just any bird: the crow you helped recover from an injury weeks ago.

Sicheng, in his bird form, displays some of his feathers ironically, and you finally understand the familiarity you felt towards him before. A feeling of naivety passes through you, unsettling you a little.

The little crow bends down towards you and, as his last act of cockiness, he takes off into the forest, without waiting for your reaction to his big revelation.

– Show-off. – Jun complains, watching the bird fly away.

– So, what do I do to stop you from haunting my house? – You ask, now alone with the nymph Jun. He turns, giving you a slightly affected look.

– That won't happen again. – He mutters and you can see a slight blush rising to his cheeks. – Now I'm going to get you out of here, come on. I'll explain on the way.

You shrug, and although it didn't seem like the safest thing in the world to walk behind a nymph through a strange, shimmering version of the forest you knew, there didn't seem to be many other options either.

– How did I end up here? – You begin, after a few seconds of silence. Your incessant questions didn't seem to affect Jun, who remained patient and focused on the trail in front of him.

– The fairy circle. – He replied, unapproachable. – The wheel-shaped mushrooms, basically.

– Ah… – You start to remember some of the blurs and how a sudden sleepiness came over you when you entered that part of the forest. – And can't we go back and get out?

– The entrance door is not the same as the exit in the fairy world. –Jun turns and smiles sideways.

Your heart squeezes at the nymph's smile, but you don't understand why. It was the same feeling as always with all those dreams, and you feel the urge to keep asking him questions until you finally understand what strange connection you had with him, or what kind of spell he was putting on you.

You are stopped, however, when you notice the familiarity of the place around you. A small stone path, a garden neatly planted under the blue sky and not interrupted by the green of the dense forest that surrounded it: this was it! Your house! The cottage!

As much as the idea of getting out of that world excited you, something dark flashed across your face in a matter of seconds: if you got home now, you would never have the answer to your questions, and you would never be able to confront Jun about his constant appearances in your dreams.

– We're here. – You exclaim dejectedly. Squinting your eyes slightly, the cottage seems strange. The colors are more vibrant, the paint chips that had faded at the edges of the wooden walls were now impeccably painted, the vines that used to climb up around the house were no longer there, and a soft yellow light was coming from inside the cottage, which emitted a thin smoke from the chimney that you were sure you hadn't left on.

– The fairy world is a parallel dimension to the human world. – Jun begins to explain as he notices your strangeness. – Many things are very similar, even the same, but they are just deformed projections of what you have. They are irreconcilable. – He lowers his head slightly, hiding his face so that you don't see him, but you notice his sad countenance.

– It's strange… Why do I feel like we've already met? – You have the urge to touch him, and the words are out of your mouth before you know it. Jun arches an eyebrow in your direction, waiting for some explanation of what you've just said, but nothing comes. Even you don't understand what's going through your head, and maybe that's just the effect of the shimmering translucence of this perfect, complicated world.

– I've been to your cottage a few times. – He begins, looking embarrassed. Jun takes the lead, walking to go around the house and continue on your way. – It's subtle, but sometimes what we do here in our world can affect yours a little, and vice versa.

– So you were the one who knocked things over! – You exclaim excitedly, picking up your pace to walk alongside Jun. Strangely enough, even the nymph's gait was light, and he often moved and you could barely notice much effort on his part, as if he barely weighted anything.

A shy smile grows on his lips, and he tries yet once again to hide his face from you in a shy manner. Jun scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable at having been caught, but you're willing to find out more. You lean in his direction, trying to get a glance of his eyes, but Jun just suddenly stops in his tracks, almost bumping into you at the sudden proximity. Looking right into his eyes, and standing so close to the nymph, a strange sensation passes through you, and it's as if you've overlapped the image of a much younger Jun in front of you.

You blink, trying to dispel the strange image, and all that remains are the familiar features of the boy in front of you. A shiver runs down your spine, and suddenly you feel an absolute but unfounded certainty that this was not your first time in the fairy world.

Jun lets out a mirthless laugh, having no idea what had been going on in your mind for the last second, and turns away from you, keeping walking smoothly and determinedly through the bright forest.

– Speaking of which, that pie was great. – The boy murmurs, almost inaudibly, but you hear perfectly. His lips move into a smile, which precedes a laugh.

–I knew I wasn't going crazy! – Jun follows your laughter, seemingly amused by your reaction. – How can you touch things from the human world?

You're curious again, and this time Jun seems a little more willing to answer you.

– As I said, the things here are copies of your world. – He shrugs his shoulders. – If you have a pie there, the pie appears here, especially if you make it with the intention of giving it to a nymph. It takes a bit of energy on our part, but we can access your world a little more easily than the other way around.

You make a sound of confirmation, understanding a little about the boy's explanation.

– Can you… watch us? – You ask, curious. Jun blushes at the implication of your speech, and nods slightly. His confirmation also makes you a little shy, and you begin to wonder how much Jun has seen of you in your daily affairs.

– I didn't mean to scare you. – Jun begins, sounding apologetic. – With the things falling and all. I guess I just ended up being a bit too curious, and clumsy too. I'm sorry.

He lets out a shy laugh and you follow him.

– No problem. – You raise your arm and lightly touch the boy's hand in a gesture of consolation. The touch sends shivers through your body when you come into contact with Jun's soft, delicate skin. Again, an image flashes through your head, along with a very strong sense of longing and tenderness.

All of a sudden, you realize that you can't leave the fairies' world. At least not without the answers you seek.

Jun seems to feel something similar, and slowly walks away, watching your facial expression with his eyes, searching for anything different. He tries to act normal, but it's clear that the spark between the two of you has reached him too, in ways you can't understand.

– Why do I dream about you, Jun? – You ask almost in a whisper. The trees around you have become denser along the way without you noticing, and now the world around you seems darker than it has ever been. The pronunciation of his name on your lips affected him, and you can tell by his wide eyes. The nymph stops in front of you and seems to question whether or not he should answer your question. He hesitates a few times, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it.

A soft breeze circulates, and you feel a little calmer. However, this doesn't stop your heart from beating uncontrollably fast. A dark shadow passes across the sky, startling you and Jun, who swallows dryly.

– I don't know much about human dreams. – He replies at last, focused on looking at the sky.

You realize he's lying, and are ready to question him once again when the same dark shadow passes over you, stopping behind Jun at an impressive speed, transforming into the human version of Sicheng you had met earlier and interrupting the conversation.

– I see you've finally arrived. – Sicheng explains, stopping beside Jun with his calculated gait, but not at all as light and subtle as the nymph's. – The portal to go back.

You squint your eyes, trying to understand what is so special about that dark part of the forest. Sicheng notices your gaze, and moves a little away from the two of you to show you with a wave of his arm something behind the dark trees in a clearing that had gone unnoticed by you.

Tombstones. Rocks. Stone angels. A cemetery.

The image wouldn't terrify you so much in the world you come from, but something about seeing that place right there, hidden in the middle of the forest, surrounded by such a sparkling and beautiful reality was unsettling on an inexplicable level. The pounding in your heart became a strong squeeze and a pain that you couldn't tell where it was coming from.

– A source of life as a gateway. – Sicheng explains. - And a den of death as the exit door. – He clicks his tongue, seemingly displeased by the morbidity of the place.

But you weren't ready to leave yet. You needed to understand what it was you had been feeling for so many months. You needed more time with Jun. You needed to see him and feel again that strange sensation that had been troubling you. You couldn't leave without understanding him.

Why was his presence so familiar? Why did his smile hurt you? Why did your heart beat so fast when he approached? What were you feeling?

– When a nymph loves a human, that person is condemned to a deep connection with them. – Sicheng said, without looking anywhere in particular. – Come on, it's time she knew.

– Sicheng, don't… – Jun warns, and for the first time his voice sounds less soft and more serious.

But the shapeshifter doesn't listen to his colleague and comes dangerously close to you.

– Thoughts, strange physical responses, dreams… – He lists, searching your eyes for every reaction. – That tightness in your chest, you know? All courtesy of our loverboy here. – He points at Jun, who knits his eyebrows together, disturbed.

Your gaze alternates between the two boys, and now they seem a little taller than before. Without you noticing his approach, Sicheng appears at your side and pushes you. He doesn't use enough force to knock you down, but only to make you unbalanced, tumbling to the side and finally into the gloomy clearing of the cemetery.

Just as you stabilize yourself, you're invaded by a sharp headache. The last thing you see around you is the despair in Jun's eyes before the memories flood back.

– My grandmother told me about you… You're a fairy! Look at your wings!

– I'm a nymph, to be precise.

– Ah, it's all the same!

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that…

Jun's smile lit up the clearing, and the cemetery no longer seemed as sinister as when you had accidentally wandered into it.

It turns out that childhood comes with a gift: curiosity. And spending the vacations at your grandmother's cottage on the edge of the forest after hearing thousands of stories about magical creatures definitely helped to feed it. When you got lost, you cried desperately, but you didn't expect another boy to appear: a boy with wings and a kind smile.

– Can we be friends? – You asked, raising your pinky finger towards Jun. He didn't seem to understand exactly what you meant, so you gently brought his hand up to yours, showing him how to cross fingers together. – There, now we'll be friends forever!

The memory causes a tear to involuntarily run down his cheek, and Jun seems to understand exactly what was going through your head, because his gaze goes exactly to the gravestone where you first met, more than ten years ago.

But that wasn't the only memory that flashed before his eyes.

– And then he broke up with me! – You finished explaining the story to Jun, who nodded calmly. You hid your head a little more between Jun's outstretched legs in the forest grass, feeling him stroke your hair with the greatest delicacy in the world while you tried to hide the tears forming in your eyes from him.

Jun placed his hand lightly on your cheek, turning your face so that you were facing him. Lying there on the grass, watching Jun above you and the blue sky that hung imposingly above him, none of your problems in the human world seemed to matter. Only he mattered, and now you understood why, at sixteen, every boyfriend you'd ever had had dumped you: you only had eyes for one.

The nymph leans over you, and the warm touch of the sun is overshadowed by Jun's equally warm closeness. You felt a refreshing breeze around you both, and some fallen leaves circled you in a slow dance in the wind before Jun's lips finally touched yours, transforming the whole world you had known until then into something new and far more beautiful.

The crying was now more aggressive, and you were sobbing. Your hands went to your lips, unable to bear the weight of the memory. In the midst of your confusion, Jun had approached you unbeknownst to you, and rested both hands on your cheeks, wrapping them around it tenderly.

– How could I have forgotten you after so many years? – The thought tortured you. There were so many memories with Jun, at so many different stages of your life, that now it finally made sense to feel the absolute emptiness you had felt over the last few months.

A large part of your life had been erased, but not your love for him.

Jun brought your bodies closer, sticking your foreheads together while he breathed irregularly, his eyes closed. You enjoyed the closeness for a few moments, trying to force your mind never to forget that moment, even though it already seemed to slip through your fingers like sand.

Finally, the nymph sighed deeply and brought your lips together with a ferocity that was unlike his usual delicacy. It was a desperate, thirsty, longing kiss. If you hadn't remembered Jun for all those years, and had still suffered his absence, you couldn't even bear to think how much Jun had had to be alone with the memories of both of you. His hands wrapped around your waist, gluing your bodies together in sync. Your hands squeezed the back of Jun's neck tightly, as if he was going to disappear in that instant and you needed to prevent him from doing it so.

The kiss was something new for you, but at the same time it was painfully familiar, and you could taste his tears between the two of you. Jun finally separated them, still holding you close, squeezing you for fear that you would leave.

– I missed you so much.

– So why did you let me go? Why did you make me forget you?

– I didn't… I…

– Humans and nymphs can't be together, Y/n… – Sicheng interrupted, also entering the cemetery. His words didn't say anything absurd, but you felt them like a knife in your chest.

It didn't matter. It would be different with you two. You and Jun could work together: you were born for each other.

A rebellious feeling overwhelmed you, and you knew that now that you finally had your love back, you wouldn't give it up.

But Jun's taciturn gaze, which never left his face, was affected by his friend's harsh words. You felt that he didn't think the same way as you, and that killed you inside.

– I had to do it. – He whispered so that only you could hear. – I couldn't take you out of your world, and I didn't want you to suffer… The distance helped, but when I realized that you'd gone back to the cottage, and were now living there… I couldn't keep my distance any longer. I was wrong and selfish. I never imagined that you would dream of me.

– No, I don't mind. – You exclaim, full of fervor. Deep down, there's a small part of you that understands that this was the best thing to do for both of you, but you didn't want to let him go for anything, especially not after spending so many years without Jun. – I'm not going back. I want to stay with you.

But Jun just held your trembling hand into his, gently bringing it to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there, without taking his eyes off yours.

– I'll leave you two alone. You know what you have to do. – You heard Sicheng's voice behind Jun, and the young man suddenly turned into a crow, flying away.

– Please. – You beg, letting the tears run free down your cheeks. Jun's grip on your hand tightens and his eyebrows draw together in an expression of deep pain. The nymph nods quietly, very subtly, and you feel your heart grow lighter.

– I love you. – Jun says in an incisive whisper, meeting your eyes in reaffirmation. He moves closer again, planting a kiss on your lips that is much calmer and more restrained than the last one, lingering for a few seconds next to you. – And I need you to live.

A push on your shoulder shoves you away, and you feel yourself fall. Your eyes widen as you take one last look at Jun, noticing the bright tears falling from his eyes, a mixture of guilt and pain

And then, darkness.

Light… there's a lot of light. An uncomfortable, painful, cold light.

– Oh my God! – A voice exclaims as you open your eyes with difficulty, feeling your whole body ache. – She's here!

Sounds of leaves rustling on the ground and flying through the air in a spiral around you wake you up, and the pain of the recent farewell attacks you again.

Two hands find you, gently holding your shoulders. For a few seconds, your heart stops beating in futile hope. When you look ahead, however, it is Ahrin's face that stares back at you in shock.

Your friend begins to cry, hugging you tightly. She drops the lantern she was holding to the ground, leaving the forest around you dark again, but not dark enough for you not to notice the circle of mushrooms surrounding you. The darkness, however, doesn't last long, and many other lantern lights appear, with hooded people approaching the two of you in the midst of the storm that was wetting everything around you.

– What are you doing here? How did you get here so quickly? Who are these people? – You ask, still holding your best friend who is bursting into tears.

– Quickly? Y/n, I haven't been able to talk to you for over two months. You've disappeared.

Your alleged disappearance into the human world had caused quite a stir. Although you had spent little less than a day in the fairy world, time had flown by much faster in your world, and it was only then that you understood why Jun had made such a point of keeping you away, even if it hurt both of you.

Living with him would mean giving up everything you've known so far - which you would do, for him - but God only knows what long-term effects the fairy world would have on a human. At least those were the thoughts that comforted you when you remembered Jun.

Since then, you've never dreamt of him again. Even if you wanted to, and even if you tried. You were afraid of forgetting him again, so you tried to communicate in every way.

– Fine, we'll try again tomorrow… – You huffed, letting your shoulders slump in disappointment as you looked at the dining room table. The apple pie seemed to stare back at you, completely untouched.

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

Writer's Block

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been stuck in a bit of a rut trying to write for these boys, so I decided to write a fic about writer's block to get out of my writer's block. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked as well as it did

Warnings: established relationship, swearing, domestic fluff, writer's block, food, eating, cuddling, forehead kisses, references to Clopidogrel the squirrel

Word Count: 2,436

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The little black bar blinks mockingly at you. The only mark on the empty document, taunting you for your lack of creativity, of imagination, of perseverance. Blink, blink, blink. Waiting for you to type anything. And you come up pitifully short.

You sigh and shut your laptop. You look around the living room, at the little knick-knacks you brought from your apartment when you moved in, the cozy blankets strewn about as the days get colder, and the clock on the wall. You could watch TV, pick out a book from the shelf, put together a puzzle…

You open your laptop again. The empty document continues to mock you.

What do you want to write about? Action? Well, you’ve never been very good at writing fight scenes or thrilling chases. How about some romance? Eh, you have no idea where to start with that, and relationship drama sounds about as appealing as a moldy pizza crust from the bottom of a week-old dumpster. If you were a bit cleverer, you would try your hand at a murder mystery.

“Love?”

You hum.

Zayne comes around the sofa to pick up your empty mug from this morning that sits lonely on the coffee table. He looks down at you skeptically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” you admit. He’d pry it out of you either way; might as well tell the truth. “My brain is stuck, right now. All I want to do is write, but nothing is coming out.”

“Why not take a break?”

“Because nothing else sounds good to do,” you try to explain. “Trying to do anything else feels bad, but trying to write also feels bad.”

He closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with getting something to eat. We can go to that music-themed diner we saw the other day.”

You sigh, long and drawn out, but the look he gives you advises you not to argue with him. “Okay.”

He smiles slightly. “Your brain needs time to rest, even if all you want to do is push through it.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Go get dressed. Something warm; it’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, doctor.” You draw yourself up from the cushion, body aching from sitting there for so long. He raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “Yes, my love.”

“That’s better.” He returns the kiss and heads into the kitchen to rinse out your mug.

You shoot one last glare at your laptop, before going to the bedroom to change.

The drive is mostly quiet. The soft hum of the AC pushing warm air throughout the car being the most prominent sound in the silence. You watch the people passing by, walking or biking along. You try to make little stories for some of them.

While Zayne is stopped at a red light, you point out his window at a teenage girl being pulled along by an overexcited dog. “She stole it from the pound.” He chuckles lightly, caught off guard by the sudden remark. “It’s a gift for her little brother, because their parents won’t let them get a pet. She’s gonna say it was running loose when she found it, and, ‘Oh please, can we keep it? We’ll take good care of it!’”

“Will they let her keep it?” he asks as the light turns green.

You huff and sink into your seat, staring back out of your window. “Who knows?”

He reaches over to hold your hand in your lap. His thumb runs over your knuckles, tracing the familiar path it takes every time you’re upset, brushing over the silver ring on your finger. It’s almost Pavlovian how quickly it soothes you. “I think they just might.”

You know it pains Zayne to see you like this, acting like a petulant child just because you can’t think of a few good words. You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Mhm, but can I anyway?”

He breathes a quiet laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“Then, I’m sorry for acting like this. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Of course. If you would like to make it up to me, we should go to that crepe stand in the park.”

You laugh and pinch his hand. He squeezes you back in return. “Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, we can go there after lunch.”

The diner is snug. All sorts of band memorabilia line every inch of the walls. The tables are decorated with images of album covers, protected by a layer of see-through plastic. You manage to snag a booth right by the door, giving you a perfect view into the connected gift shop, lined with instruments and CDs.

As you wait for your food, named after old 1980s and 90s songs, you and Zayne catch up. Small updates on how Yvonne and Greyson are doing, in exchange for an odd article you saw on Moments. You tell him about a cat you saw the other day that you forgot to tell him about, and he updates you on Clopidogrel, the squirrel who comes to his office window to beg for nuts. Once the food arrives, though, conversation is exchanged in favor of listening.

Over the old music blaring a little too loudly in the diner, you listen to the full tables of friends and family that chat. You overhear something about an Aunt Mindy who’s just adopted another parrot, despite already owning three. Someone’s boss who keeps microwaving fish for lunch, and the ongoing notes-on-the-fridge war about it. A friend of a friend of a friend who met some celebrity, or so they say, but they can’t be trusted to tell the truth because of such-and-such.

A couple sitting behind Zayne, right beside the entrance to the gift shop, seem to be on their first date. The guy is talking a lot, even speaking over the girl he’s with at some points. You try not to stare when she suddenly blows up about him not listening to her. He talks over her again to try defending himself. It gets so bad, two staff have to tell them to leave so they stop disturbing everyone else. They don’t even get their food as they stomp out, continuing to complain all the while. Zayne shoots you a look that says he knows you’ll be using this for your writing at some point down the line.

Bellies nearly full, with just enough left for a dessert crepe, Zayne takes a moment to take in the decor. There’s one sign high up on the wall that says, “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t there!” It must be quite old. Really, all of the stuff in here could be considered antique. It’s fascinating to see it being appreciated instead of locked away behind glass; given the chance to live again.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leads you back to his car, parked in a lot nearby.

“Mhm. But now I keep thinking…”

“About what?”

“How glad I am that none of our dates went that poorly.”

He chuckles softly. You smile and hold onto his arm, leaning into him. “Well, there was that time early on…”

You laugh at the memory. “You should have gone right home! I told you not to worry about dinner!”

“I couldn’t leave you to eat at that restaurant alone, exhausted or otherwise.”

“But then I had to drive you back home, anyway! You know how I don’t like driving your car.”

The car in question unlocks with a beep. He opens up the passenger side door for you to get in. “I’m glad my perseverance didn’t ruin your opinion of me,” he says, before shutting the door and rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once he gets in, you poke his arm. “Of course not. It just meant I had to get on your ass more about overworking yourself.”

“Yet you still ignore my advice…” He gives you a pointed glance as he starts the car. “Do I have to start getting on your ass about overworking yourself?”

“You already are!”

“I could be far more insistent about it than I currently am.”

“Please don’t.”

The park by the hospital is familiar and welcoming, as always. A light breeze caresses your cheeks as you start walking side by side, and you’re glad you dressed warmly like Zayne said to. Still, you may or may not have used it as an excuse to walk even closer to him, to “conserve heat” as you fake a shiver. He’s so used to your antics by now, he teases you about the possibility of keeping an extra coat and scarf in his car for you.

The people at the crepe stand know you already. You try not to think about how often you must visit for that to be the case, as they ask if you want your usuals and get to building the crepes exactly as you like. Zayne is just patient enough to let you take a quick photo of both of your treats together to post on Moments. You fondly wipe away a small glop of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth that he misses, and he catches your hand before you can put it on his nose instead.

You walk to a secluded little bench that you’ve practically claimed for yourselves. You’ve never seen anyone else sit here, ever. It’s tucked away beside a small pond, where ducks huddle together as they float, flat beaks tucked under their wings as they enjoy an afternoon nap. The bench itself is old and worn down, covered in lichen and carved into by old lovers. But it’s yours.

You sit side by side, watching the waterfowl and enjoying your treats. When you finish your crepe, you lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, indulging in being a little more affectionate in the extra bit of privacy you have here. It feels nice, just being here with him.

“Thank you again for this,” you say softly. You can’t fight the smile that appears on your face when you feel his head rest on top of yours. “The head editor has been hounding us all lately to write something spectacular. As much as I love working for the paper, sometimes it makes writing painful.”

He hums in understanding. His fingers trace mindless shapes against your hip, only stopping when you squirm from how ticklish it is. “You went into a job that makes your hobby into work, but that detracts from the relaxing, fun experience it used to be.”

You sigh. “Yeah. And then the stuff I do end up writing for fun, I hoard to myself. I haven’t done that for years, because I like sharing my stuff with other people. Now, it’s like I have to keep that little scrap of joy all to myself.” You close your eyes and turn your head to press your cold nose against his jacket lapel. “I know I should just quit and find something else to do, but even if I want to write a novel or a book of my own, I’d still be turning my hobby into a job.”

“You would be able to work at your own pace.”

“Then who’s to say I’ll ever finish anything to be able to publish it?”

“What would happen if you didn’t publish anything?” he counters. “Aside from posting on the internet.”

You pause for a minute. If you did quit, start writing for yourself and decide to write a novel, what would happen if it never got published? There wouldn’t be an editor or boss looking over your shoulder, hounding you about deadlines or appealing to a larger audience. And there wouldn’t be people expecting a novel from you unless you bring it up yourself. You could work on a secret project for years with Zayne as your only witness and there would be no worrying about other people getting hype and losing interest when you take longer than expected. Sure, you wouldn’t get paid, but money wasn’t a concern with Zayne’s career, and you could always do a little freelance if you felt like it, or find another job that doesn’t involve writing, so you can keep it as a hobby all to yourself again.

You sigh, as though a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and lean a bit heavier into his side. He welcomes it easily, adjusting his arm to wrap around your back so he can rub your arm. “I’ll put in my two weeks notice tomorrow,” you tell him. “Which means I still have to figure out what to write about for this assignment.”

“You’ll think of something,” he assures. “You can always write about that girl and her stolen dog.”

You chuckle. “Her parents will post up flyers about a missing dog, and an employee at the pound will see it. It’ll be a huge scandal. And just when she thinks she’ll have to give up the dog - which they’ve named Sir Butterton the Third - her parents will finally relent and adopt it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and he smiles down at you with those ever-calming hazel eyes of his. “See? You’ve already got a plot synopsis. The rest will come naturally.” He squeezes your hand, which has grown cold after spending so long in the cool breeze and autumn weather. “Now, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“You’re out here, too! You could catch a cold just as easily.”

“All the more reason to hurry back.” He stands first and helps you from the old bench. You’re not sure he even consciously thinks about it before doing up your jacket to keep the cold air from getting in. You don’t mind. It gives you a chance to admire the man you’ve chosen as your life partner. He gives you a questioning look. “What’s on your mind now?”

You smile and reach up to playfully adjust his scarf. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering who I should base the dad on in my story.”

His ears turn pink, but he shakes his head, taking your hand from his scarf and leading you back toward the car. “If that’s the case, I would recommend a different name for the dog in your story.”

“Oh? What should it be, then?”

“Aprotinin.”

“I’m not naming the dog after a drug!”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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cinnaminsvga · 11 months ago

Text

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #min yoongi #the sleep deprived series #this has been IN MY DRAFTS for months now....#god i am so stuck in my monster phase #i want to write more... MORE...#is this what it feels like to be inspired #idk who i think i am but man... love this guy #kinda obsessed with this au tee bee aych

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