#i need to train myself to draw him better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jigeuminunbich · 25 days ago

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motive | lee donghyuck (haechan)

synopsis — in which after donghyuck joins jeno on a gym day he finds himself infatuated with his friend’s occasional gym buddy, you.

genre — non-idol!au, fem!reader, comedy, fluff, and strangers to friends to lovers (?)

content — swearing, reader is mentioned to be a gym trainer + nurse tech, also is pretty direct (i won’t her) while hyuck is a loser, a bit more centered on hyuck’s pov than reader’s, jeno is unintentionally playing cupid, hyuck makes one (1) joke about jumping, and featuring jaemin and johnny for like a split second

word count — 4k

playing — motive by ariana grande ft. doja cat

author’s note — ik this is an act of terrorism but: do we all remember hyuck’s gym phase (fact check era)? … yeah. need that. also happy new year omg :D what better way to welcome it than with silly lovestruck hyuck!

i. baby tell me what’s your motive?

“Just five more minutes…”

“Tuh. That’s what you said five minutes ago, c’mon, get up,” Jeno tugs Donghyuck by his ankles, effectively yanking his full-grown roommate from his bed and to land on the ground below him.

“No!” Donghyuck spits, scrambling back to the comfort of his covers before Jeno can stop him.

“You’re the one who asked me to help you get back in the gym, remember?” Jeno sighs exasperatedly, continuing his mission of excavating his stubborn friend from his bed. This time, Donghyuck holds onto his bed’s post to anchor himself.

Donghyuck angles his head to the side as if he’s in thought, “Did I? I don’t seem to recall…”

It was, in fact, his idea. It took a while to break down Jeno’s resolve for the past few weeks and convince him to help him with training with the welcoming of the new year, but it happened. Now, being woken up at dawn just to be surrounded by sweaty bodies was starting to be an idea he regretted having.

Jeno rolls his eyes, “Well I do, now let go.”

“Never!”

“Donghyuck, I’m telling you now if you don’t get up, I will do it myself.”

A habitual snarky snicker ripples through the younger’s chest, “Is that not what you’ve been struggling to do for the past hour?”

Silence hangs in the man’s room as he registers the grave mistake he’s made: making a jab at Jeno. As the seconds tick by like stomach-churning hours, Donghyuck tosses a quick glance backwards to get a grasp of his roommate’s reaction.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Donghyuck pathetically pleads for his life when he meets Jeno’s.

Jeno nods, quietly rolling his shoulders before his bruising grip returns to pull at Donghyuck’s lower half, “Mhm.”

“Wait, agh!”

“Do we really have to do this?”

Jeno inhaled deeply, he wasn’t sure why he thought his friend’s whining would cease once they stepped foot into his usual gym. He thinks back to the many missed opportunities he had at stop lights where he could’ve pushed Donghyuck out the car, but alas it was now a regret he would just have to live with.

“Listen, you don’t have to whatsoever, but I for one will be gladly working out.”

“I—" Donghyuck prepares himself to shoot back at his roommate but his retort fizzles out on his tongue when he catches you in his peripheral sauntering towards him and Jeno.

“Hi, Jeno!” A delicate voice trills, drawing both men’s attention to you.

Jeno’s eyes crease almost on command, a puppy-like smile stretching across his face. “Hey, I didn’t know you trained on Wednesday’s?”

“I don’t usually but I switched shifts with a coworker.” You shrug with your explanation, quickly adjusting your focus to the rigid man that stood beside Jeno.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m ___!” You jut out your glove-clad hand for him to shake.

Donghyuck takes a moment to grasp that you are in fact speaking to him, a winsome smile gracing his features and ridding him of his dazed expression before he meshes his hand with yours to shake. “Hi, Donghyuck, Jeno’s roommate…”

Your grip in the handshake falters to a stop as it dawns on you who exactly has just been introduced to you, “Ah! You’re Donghyuck?”

Said man’s eyebrows jump for a moment, his smirk growing deeper. “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Well, Jeno mentioned in passing that he’d start bringing you around,” you pause as you draw your hand from his grasp to rest both on your hips, giving the comfortably dressed man a quick once over. “And that you might need a little assistance.”

The manner in which you finish your sentence is controlled, expertly hiding your amusement but Jeno does little to shield his humored snickering. Donghyuck’s face falls flat and stoic, immediately shooting Jeno with an intense glare. But it only takes a beat before Donghyuck’s attention returns to you, quickly turning his suave back on.

“Hmm. You’d be the one helping though, right?”

His charm stuns you for a bit, an amused laugh easing from your nostrils, “I would. If I’m available, of course. I tend to train others whenever I’m here,” your thumb gestures backwards towards a middle-aged woman who is stretching across the gym.

Donghyuck peaks around you for a moment, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape, “Oh, you’re a trainer?”

“Yep!” you chirp proudly.

“And a nurse.” Jeno chimes, getting an flustered eye roll out of you.

“Nurse tech,” you correct. “I’m in school to be a physical therapist.”

“Wow. And how exactly do you know Jeno here?” Donghyuck furrows his brows, apparently finding it unbelievable that someone like you would be associated with his friend. It’s Jeno’s turn to glare, and you can’t help but giggle at their exchanges.

“Just from around. Embarrassingly he corrected my form when I was working out one day, and we’ve been buddies ever since.” You affirm, gently bumping Jeno’s exposed shoulder with your first.

Wordlessly Jeno nods, supporting your story. Before Donghyuck can probe you any longer, you throw a quick glance over your shoulder.

“Ah, I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” You ask, already walking away from the interaction and back to your client.

“Uh huh.” Donghyuck responds airily, almost as if he’s in a trance. You smile at his antics, delivering a final wave their way before trotting away.

Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a moment before dreamily sighing.

“Could you be a little less pathetic?” Jeno grumbles, shaking his head as his friend practically falls over himself over you.

Donghyuck scoffs, completely tuning out Jeno’s insult with his eyes still focused on your figure across the room, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you knew such pretty people here, Jeno?”

“Because that’s not the point, now is it?" Jeno roughly pats Donghyuck's shoulder, hoping it would deter him from staring holes into your toned back.

Surprisingly it manages to work and Donghyuck peels his gaze from you to focus on his friend who begins stretching his muscular limbs, “Pfft. It is now. What other days is she here?”

Jeno stills for a moment, an exaggerated, scandalized look on his face, “There’s absolutely no way I’m giving you that information.”

Donghyuck pouts, “Will she be here tomorrow?”

“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be.”

“And why not?” The whiny tone in Donghyuck's voice would almost be endearing to Jeno if he hadn't been subjected to it for the past decade and a half. Instead, it makes the grown man sigh deeply before continuing his routine.

“It’ll be a recovery day,” Jeno murmurs dismissively.

This makes Donghyuck ponder for a moment before a wicked expression graces his face, “Hmm. So, if we work out today, we'll have to recover tomorrow?”

“Precisely.”

“So, if we don’t work out today, can we come tomorrow?” Donghyuck quirks a mischievous eyebrow.

Jeno huffs, “Precisely…”

“Cool. I’m going home!”

Before Donghyuck can even make progress toward the gym exit, a strong grip is placed on the neckline of his t-shirt. Comically, the grown man is pulled back into the exact same stop he once stood in by his roommate.

“Never mind.” Donghyuck recedes sadly, setting down his sad excuse for a gym bag on the ground.

ii. might have to curve you if you just can’t talk straight

To say Donghyuck was on a mission would be an understatement. Today was nothing like it compared to his first (forced) official gym day. He had woken up with no problems, no Jeno to tug him out of bed. He slipped on his foreign-feeling gym shoes and drove here on his own. Not because he had a sudden desire to fulfill his promise to himself, no. Not because Jeno’s threats finally and genuinely reached his ears, never that. But because of you.

“Oh hey, where’s Jeno?” You come bounding over after several minutes of Donghyuck glancing your way as unsuspectingly as he could muster (spoiler: he did a terrible job).

“Ah, he had a last minute meeting,” Donghyuck waves his hand dismissively in the air. ”I didn’t want to miss out on a chance to get in here,”

You laugh at the way Donghyuck pumps up his obviously flat chest, nodding along despite his antics. “Oh? What are you doing today?”

Donghyuck’s features drop at lightning speed, the cogs turning in his head in real time.

“…uh… I was just gonna… y’know… freestyle a bit. Maybe hit legs—” His slender hands fumble around as he wracks his mind for even a slightly plausible answer to give you.

The giggle you were biting back finally spills past your lips, deciding to end Donghyuck’ suffering, “You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?”

“Absolutely no idea.” He sighs, dropping his head forward shamefully.

You nod, finding the pout on his face incredibly endearing, “Hah. Well, I’m on my own today if you’d like to join me?”

Donghyuck physically perks up at this, his quick change in expression almost sending you spinning. The fond that graces his pink lips leave a ticklish feeling stirring in the base of your stomach, “I’d like that.”

You smirk, forcing yourself to push away the burdensome sensation. “Cool. Fair warning, I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because you’re a friend of a friend.”

A glint that you can only recognize as mischief twinkles in Donghyuck’s deep brown eyes, almost challenging you, “I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”

Turns out Donghyuck wasn’t much one for a challenge as you had initially thought.

“Ah, god. Okay, are we done yet?” Donghyuck clumsily tumbles out of seat for the hack squat machine. Not even taking into account the state of the floor that meets him when he braces himself on his hands and knees.

You snort, watching as Donghyuck— now a glistening, drenched mess— crawls around under he lands on his back, nursing his water bottle.

“We’re literally on the second exercise.” You remind slowly.

Donghyuck cranes his neck up from the ground, a horrified look on his face, “What? I feel like I’ve been at this for ages.”

“Do you complain this much with Jeno?” You playfully roll your eyes, tossing him a spare towel from your gym bag.

“Yes.” Donghyuck allows the cloth to cover his face, too drained to even attempt to block it.

“Hm. Tapping out on me already?”

“What? No! I— just give me a minute,” Donghyuck desperately shoots up from his position but clearly moves too fast for the rest of his body to process, having to slump to hoisting himself up by his elbows. You laugh at him, though he was obviously not the gym type you did find him to be incredibly entertaining. He peels an eye open at the sound of your laughter, a handsome smile gracing his face.

Trying to shake the flutter in your stomach from the look in his eyes, you flutter your eyes elsewhere in the gym. Just like his humor, it was undeniable that Donghyuck was attractive.

Donghyuck’s tired smirk deepens the more you avoid his pointed gaze-- almost as if he could sense the line of dialogue in your mind you were actively trying to dismiss, “You good?”

You clear your throat, finally forcing your eyes down to meet Donghyuck’s, “Hm? Are you good is the real question?”

It's Donghyuck's turn to be amused by your behavior, huffing out a breathy laugh before managing to sit up fully, “I’m feeling fine now.”

“Oh?" You quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of the way so he could return to the machine behind you. "Ready for your next set?”

Donghyuck basically shudders at the implication that he would have to put his body through that torture again, grimacing up at you, “On second thought, give me another minute.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Why does the gym hurt this bad?” Donghyuck groans, his cries muffled into the plush of his friend’s couch.

“I’m still tryna figure out why you just randomly went?” Jaemin voices confusedly from his kitchen.

Jeno snorts, attention half-heartedly with the assignment he’s supposed to be completing alongside Jaemin. A session that Donghyuck commonly crashes to prevent him from being quote on quote left out, “‘Cause he has a crush.”

For the first time since the man had successfully wobbled his weight onto Jaemin’s couch, his head darted up, “Ah, I just don’t have a crush, Jeno. We’re in love.”

“Did she tell you that?” Jeno peels his eyes in his roommate’s direction.

“Right by the weight rack, actually.” Donghyuck falsely recounts, head now propped by one of his recently overworked arms.

“Sure.”

“Who knew all it took to get you in the gym was an infatuation?” Jaemin strolls back into the living room, placing down the ice bag Donghyuck had incessantly requested upon first arriving on the coffee table.

Jeno scoffs, “I think everyone would have assumed that was all it took but whatever— it makes my life easier.”

“So, Romeo,” Jaemin deliberately plops down on the lower half of Donghyuck’s sore body.

“Ack!” Donghyuck yelps, his pain so severe from his friend's weight that a bright white flash blinds him momentarily.

“When are we seeing the love of your life again?”

Now that he thinks about it, Donghyuck doesn’t know the answer to this question himself (maybe if he had paid more attention to the workout split schedule Jeno had forwarded him— damn), throwing a hopeful (pitiful) look toward Jeno. The recipient sighs, lolling his head to the side in annoyance.

“She doesn’t work out on Sunday’s.”

“Monday it is!”

iii. tell me everything that’s on your mind

“Who the hell is that?”

“I would assume a fellow gym goer?” Jeno says slowly, fumbling around in his gym bag and not paying Donghyuck a slither of his attention.

“But he’s muscular!” Despite the desperate projection in his friend’s voice, Jeno continues to expertly tune him out.

“Very likely in a place like this…” he hums.

Donghyuck huffs, urgently extending his arms out towards the scene unfolding ahead of him, “Jeno, he’s stealing my wife!”

Jeno rolls his eyes, choosing to spare Donghyuck with a look over his shoulder, “What are— oh, that’s just Johnny.”

Donghyuck looks around bewildered like he isn’t the sole person in the gym throwing a fit, “Am I supposed to know who that bulky fuck is?”

“Dude, he’s like her gym dad— everyone’s actually, nothing to be concerned about…” Jeno shakes his head, completely unsympathetic to his friend’s breakdown.

Donghyuck desperately whips his attention back to you, you and Johnny.

Who the hell is above 30 and named Johnny these days, anyway?

“Look at how hard she’s laughing, I’m gonna jump.”

Jeno bites back an encouraging remark, instead choosing peace, “Why don’t you just— I dunno— do something about it—“ Jeno pans his head back to Donghyuck, mouth gaping to advise him further. “And you’re gone.”

Determined, Donghyuck struts over to you and your interaction. But the closer he gets, the more he truly realizes just how badly this guy could kick his ass— arguably worse than Jeno (and that was saying something).

“Stop it— hey! Oh, Johnny you have to meet Donghyuck,” you gesture towards the man, ignoring how he hilariously ogles up at Johnny like a house mouse. “He’s a close friend of Jeno’s!”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Johnny warmly extends his hand to be shook, and Donghyuck obediently places his obviously smaller one in his.

Through a tight-lipped smile, Donghyuck replies,“Same here.”

You’re positive that if Johnny didn’t get the cue to recede from the interaction that Donghyuck would still be standing here slowly, but surely further subjecting the older man to a prolonged handshake.

“Did you need something, ‘Hyuck?” The foreign sound of his familiar nickname from your mouth leaves air caught in his throat.

Donghyuck shakes his head profusely, scratching the back of his nape as a vice in this cramped situation he’s found himself in, “Uh, no, no. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, okay,” your lips press into a thin line, bordering a frown.

Johnny smacks his teeth, marking his departure from the interaction, “Well, I’ll leave you kids to it!”

You perk up to bid your friend farewell, “See you next week?”

“Unfortunately!” Johnny waves backwards at you both, delivering goodbyes to fellow gym-goers until he’s officially left the building.

“Hey, you okay?” You return your attention to stiff man adjacent of you.

Donghyuck clears his throat, nodding as he stuffs his hand into the pockets of his sweats, “I’m good. I should probably be getting back to Jen’… he starts getting a little impatient—“

“Donghyuck.” You call out for him before he can even gather up the motivation to inch away from you.

His head pops up and toward you like a puppy, “Hm?”

The resemblance you spot— down to his wide, wet brown eyes— forces you to swallow down a laugh, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I like consistency.”

“… I’m lost.” Donghyuck bats a few long blinks your way.

You sigh, shifting on your feet to lean towards him, “Meaning, if you’re gonna put the moves on me one day, I’d rather you not leave me hanging the next… that is your intention, right?”

Donghyuck looks between both of your eyes as he processes what you’ve just said, you almost think he’ll explode if he continues to think so hard.

“Oh… oh. I didn’t know if you were— are you into me?” He adorably fumbles around, it makes the Donghyuck you remember from his first day in the gym seem like a far stranger.

“Hm. Guess I haven’t made it all that obvious either.” You swing your foot coyly.

Donghyuck gulps, “Heh, yeah. Sorry, I did not think I would get this far,” the tail-end of his sentence sounds as if he’s speaking more to himself. Obviously your admittance still settling in for him.

You giggle at Donghyuck’s endearing deer-like expression, “So, do you wanna go out sometime? Somewhere that preferably doesn’t reek of sweat?” You propose, ruffling through your gym bag while Donghyuck follows your every movement intently.

“God yes—” Donghyuck practically melts at the invitation, earning an amused giggle from you. He clears his throat, shuffling to cross his arms and hopefully hide his swelling embarrassment. “I mean, yeah, that’d be great.”

“Cool. I’ll be expecting your call.” You hand him a small card with your number on it. Donghyuck accepts the card as if he were to hold it too tightly, it’ll shatter into pieces.

“See you around?” You effectively draw his attention back to you before he can trace his eyes over your contact information once more.

Donghyuck nods before he can control it, “You can count on it.” He affirms.

“Good.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, sashaying past Donghyuck with a coquettish wave. Just like you had grown used to, he tracks your every movement until you’ve finally left the gym, daydreamingly sighing to himself before his sweet reverie is interrupted by Jeno’s disgruntled face entering his line of vision.

“Genuinely how?”

“I could teach you a thing or two if you want, Jeno. Lucky for you we’re close enough so it’d come at a discounted price— ouf!”

Jeno tosses a deft kettlebell into Donghyuck’s hold which leads him to crumble forward like a ragdoll, “Play nice before I sick Johnny on you.”

#જ⁀➴ mads’ writes to:#lee haechan x reader #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct dream x you #nct 127 x y/n #haechan x you #haechan x y/n

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museenkuss · 3 months ago

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“How I transformed my body in 90 days” type video but I’m becoming a Renaissance Woman. Vlog footage of me reading the classics for hours on end, writing vocabulary lists, drawing in my sketch book to epic music. On day 15 I talk about how I’m slowly adjusting to my elaborate home cooked meals and how I struggle with the genealogy of the Borgias. There are montages of me educating myself on history, astrology, astronomy and dressing well, I take horseback riding lessons and go to museums. Erasmus, Machiavelli and Lucretius are stacked on my bedside table.

There’s a segment where I say “it’s day 53 and I’m really struggling… I can’t even write a sonnet. I don’t see any improvement in myself. Is this even worth it?!” The stakes are rising. I’m shown ripping up pages of rhymes in calligraphy. I swear as I rush around the kitchen, trying to prepare my oysters. I sit at my desk and sigh, head in hands, my desk covered in stacks of notes, huge volumes on art history and printed out articles. The dramatic moment comes when I for the nth time try to walk and gesture with sprezzatura while balancing books on my head for better posture. I fall. The books topple to the floor. I’ve reached rock bottom.

Black screen. Voice over: “It was really hard. I felt like Dante, in the dark forest, having lost my way. And then, I realised what I needed: I had to go on a grand tour.”

Music swells again, there’s a montage of me packing and travelling in busses and trains. Landscape rushes past. I read Goethe’s Italienische Reise on the journey. Finally, there are snippets of me in Munich, in Vienna. I take a selfie in front of Parmigianino’s self portrait in a convex mirror, showing off my own elegantly contorted hand. I’m in Florence, breathing heavily with excitement as I walk along the outside walls of the Galleria degli Uffizi. “Oh my god, there he is—“ I film the Petrarch statue, the phone visibly shaking. “I can’t believe I get to meet him…” I whisper with awe. Cut. I’m blowing a kiss at the right Grace in Botticelli’s Spring (I have a crush on her). I’m in the Loggia di Psiche in Rome, I’m kneeling on a bridge in Venice to touch it, “Tintoretto walked on these very stones..”, I’m filming the ceiling of the Camera Degli Sposi in Mantua. I’m in the streets of Grasse showing off a bottle of Fragonard perfume I bought, I’m teary eyed in front of the Concerto Campestre in the Louvre. Cut.

I’m back home. “It’s now day…79. Those were the most unrealistic two weeks of my life. And the most expensive. But now I’m back on track. I feel like I can really do this.” With newfound vigour I get back to my battered Reclam German/Latin edition of Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Day 81, 85, 89. Emotional/hopeful music. I show a Shakespeare sonnet written in beautiful calligraphy. I’m in the museum sketching the composition of an annunciation and taking notes on a Venus by Cranach. I practice a speech I’ve written following Cicero’s rules on rhetoric. I’m back on horseback. I present a cake of some sort.

DAY 90. I’m at my desk. “Wow, what a journey. Now let’s see the transformation I underwent in those 90 days.” I show side by side footage of me from day 1 and day 90. I look the same, except day 90 me is wearing all black, Castiglione style, and has better posture. Back to the desk. “I changed so much. I learned so much about myself and my limits. I’m still not fluent in Latin or Italian. But what I learned is that beauty is everywhere, especially in the struggle, and it’s worth cherishing. And now, I’m back and stronger and more curious than ever. If you haven’t followed me on tumblr @Museenkuss at this point, what are you doing? Click the follow button and give this post a like because NOW, the fun really begins. A renaissance woman never stops learning.” From under the desk, I grab two books and put them on my desk. The Tale of Genji and Sei Shōnagon’s pillow book. “It’s time to expand my horizon.” Black screen.

#I’m sure you missed these quality posts.#Museenkuss

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thinemoonshine · 6 months ago

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༄LECHE OF THE SIRENS.ೃ࿔*

corrupt!enhypen ot7 x siren!reader warning(s): those stated in the first chapter, jay is a two-faced ‘gentleman,’ he sleeps with (y/n), members are sexually frustrated, sunoo is growing more obsessed with (y/n) by the second, riki and jungwon make their appearance, (y/n) feeds to the nobles’ delusions to get what she wants, heeseung grovels type: mini series word count: 8.9k

(y/n)’s created a rift between them. she has sunoo wrapped around her finger and she who controls the puppeteer, controls the puppets—but she needs more. so, what better left to do than to subjugate the real genius behind the genius?

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 2

𝒥ongseong stirs in his bed before he sits up, disgruntled from having his sleep interrupted and grumbles as he walks to his doors. Swinging them open, he's prepared to give the intruder a good earful but finds himself frozen instead upon seeing a timid (y/n).

Clad only in her nightwear—a white satin nightdress that reaches mid-thigh with snowy lace trims, its collar lower than the typical and exposing her cleavage that makes his eyes pop and the fabric is thin…almost sheer that his gaze struggles to remain still.

His blatant ogle makes the corners of her lips curl but they fall instantly as she takes a step forward.

"If you don't mind, would you like to accompany me for a cup of tea? I know it's unconventional seeing how this is past bedtime however, I have trouble sleeping from what transpired earlier on..." She starts quietly, voice in a whisper as if afraid to awaken any other as eyes draw figures onto the floor. Jongseong can see her gulping nervously before she lifts her gaze to him. "D-did I disturb your slumber?"

He recalls his irritation from having awakened from his rest and yet, he shakes his head as a cordial, gentle smile stretches onto his face. "No, of course not. I found myself engrossed in a book and have been awake for a while. Please, come in.”

She doesn’t miss the way he rakes his lecherous gaze up and down her figure as she walks past and as soon as she hears the door shut softly behind her, she knows she’s already won.

He manages to keep his genteel manner throughout their tea time—behaving solicitously, making a few lighthearted jokes to see her smile and giggle, pouring her tea for her—and acting like a true gentleman.

If only his eyes didn’t lower to her bosom whenever she would lean forward, or to her legs whenever she would cross them or even lick his lip when she would ‘accidentally’ spill tea from the corners of her mouth from abrupt sips or rushed tilts.

“You’re very kind, Jongseong. Don’t tell the others but I feel much more comfortable with you than I am with them,” she confesses bashfully and gosh, does the pink blooms on her cheeks fuel his hunger and his legs part wider below the table as he feels blood rush between.

With a soft, endearing chuckle, he envelopes her hand that rests on the table with his which makes her raise her eyes to him with surprise. Those glossy, naive doll-like eyes that he so desperately wants to see brimming with tears of pleasure—or fear. As long as it’s him causing it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he assures and she too, titters at his claim before her focus shifts to his hold. Slowly, she lifts it up, grasping it in hers before she touches the calloused pads of his fingers. He notices. How can he not when her touch is so feathery and warm? “Ah, the sword training and instruments I’ve played over the years left their marks.”

“Do they hurt?” She asks, voice wispy as she tenderly caresses the hardened skin. There is a sudden shift in atmosphere, tension rising and heat prickling at their skin as she looks up at him curiously, intently.

The noble lets out a ragged exhale. “No… Not at all.”

At this, a smile graces her face. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Kiss.

Jongseong’s eyes widen at the sudden intimacy—her lips against the pads of his fingers, one by one. Her actions slow, so deeply tender and pure—thus, his restraint snaps.

THUD!

His chair violently falls backwards at his abrupt rise and (y/n) finds herself pinned against the wall, tongue tangled with his.

Seong grunts into the heated kiss as he presses his clothed arousal against her before a guttural groan sounds when she reciprocates, bucking her hips forward at his advance.

By the time he pulls away, their faces are flushed and he revels in the way she shudders with desire. With lips swollen and red from his relentless presses and chews, he smirks darkly—lust clouding his eyes and rationality.

“Stop,” (y/n) rejects suddenly. Her hand against his chest as she holds him back and her shaky pupils refuse to meet with his. “We sh-shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inadequate.”

Jongseong looks down at her, his breaths hot and heavy as he feels his blood rush at her meekness. Her demureness excites him in ways he can’t comprehend. To see her trembling and panting as she struggles to remain still below his fervid gaze and yet flinches and melts into his every touch—she’s so innocent and delectable.

And to be the one to corrupt such purity—

He shivers with delight, grin widens and adrenaline courses through his veins like molten lava—igniting him from the inside out as his tongue wets his bottom lip.

“Shhh… There’s nothing to worry about,” Jongseong soothes, breath steaming against the shell of her ear and at her flinch, he almost lets out a moan of contentment. “I’m just trying to help you fall asleep.”

“How?” She asks, eyes blinking up at him with a curious twinkle and Seong brushes her hair away from her face. His gaze is affectionate, endearing and even when he kisses her forehead—so soft and loving.

If only he isn’t a corrupted man.

“I’ll show you, hm?” He starts with a charming, seductive lilt and his hand gradually climbs up her thigh with a searing touch. A glint in his sharp, clouded gaze as his lips pepper kisses to the side of her neck and down to her bust.

—

Riki watches the girl who has been the centre of his brothers' attention. It’s astounding honestly, how they’re all suddenly pursuing one girl with such enthusiasm he’s never seen before.

It almost makes them pathetic.

‘They are pathetic,’ Riki scoffs mentally and picks up a pebble off the garden floor before tossing it to the defenseless girl.

She jumps when the stone grazes her arm but quickly turns to its source. Her head tilts with confusion once seeing Riki exiting through the garden's archway to her. “Do you need something?”

“I require an explanation,” the other casually replies. His sharp eyes wander up and down her figure before cocking up a brow. “You. What sorcery have you casted on my brothers for them to act like mindless mutts?”

She puts a hand on her chest, taken aback. “Sorcery? I don’t comprehend.”

He scoffs, cynical. "Of course, you wouldn't. A witch would not simply confess to being one."

"Witch...?" (y/n) repeats, now fully understanding his insinuation. "I'm sorry but, I fail to see why you would assume such a thing.”

Riki says nothing, only continuing to glower at her before turning his face away. As much as he wishes to demand for answers, to treat her just as he treats any other disposable being to get what he wants, he can’t.

The news of Jaeyun and Sunghoon almost being permanently removed from Sunoo’s residence have spread like wildfire so Riki knows better than to touch the host’s most prized possession.

He exhales heavily, irritated before taking a big step towards the girl—instantly looming over with his chest near her face. He looks down vainly before he brusquely grasps her face in his large hand, eliciting a squeak from her. “I will find out what it is that you have up your sleeves, wench. And when that time comes, trust that you will be discarded to the streets, left to rot in your worthless, deplorable self.”

A heavy, abrupt silence engulfs them. The air stills and not a single leaf nor flower is dancing, neither the slightest rustle. The chirping birds have strangely quietened and even the clouds have shifted to cloak the sun—dimming the previously sunny and cheery ambience of the morning.

(y/n)’s brows knit as her previously apprehensive gaze sharpens to a glare of antipathy. The rims of her eyes red as her pupils stare dead into his, unwavering, unafraid as her soft, amicable aura seems to thicken into something completely different.

Hateful and…baneful.

Riki would be lying if he said he isn’t the slightest bit daunted.

So he lets her go.

“You disgust me,” he hisses before leaving the scene with long strides.

(y/n) stares at his furthering back, hands clenched to her sides as her patience thins by the second. It’s taxing to be entertaining these rambunctiously revolting and uncouth men. It’s easy when they’re at sea, her home, where she has the advantage.

But here, on land, her powers are weakened and she needs to play her cards right to ensure none would escape before she can finish them off. As vexing and laborious as it is, the result is always satisfying. To see them slowly meet their demise—crying and begging for mercy. A truly picturesque view.

“Lord Riki!” She calls and he hears her nimble footsteps chase after him before her figure stands in front to halt him. He raises a brow irritatedly. “I heard you and Sir Jungwon are commendable in the arts of dance. If you don’t mind, would you…aid me with my ballroom choreography?”

The noble scowls distastefully. “Do you not have Sunoo hyung for that?”

“He’s been busy as of late—taking care of the household and whatnot,” (y/n) explains briefly and looks up at him with the most sweetest of gaze and loveliest of smiles yet simultaneously pitiable as to gain his favour. “But if you’re unavailable, I can ask the his grace Jungwon.”

Riki’s sharp eyes scrutinize her mien and his furrow deepens at the entirely juxtaposing image he sees. Was the air of hostility she felt around her before a figment of his imagination?

He hates to leave things unsettled. So what else to do then to investigate?

“Alright, I will supervise you,” he agrees and the grin that stretches on her face unexpectedly makes his heart skip a beat. That genuine look of relief and delight is an expression rarely graced unto him. Infamous for being callous and pompous, it’s obvious that he won’t receive much…liking from others. They tend to deviate from him without giving him a chance to even speak but of course, he cares not. After all, he’s much better and grand than everybody else.

“Then, I shall see you in the ballroom!” The girl chirps and with a curtsy, she rushes away—long skirt flowing behind her in soft waves, akin to flower petals gently swaying in the wind.

Riki stares, his gaze transfixed and he swallows thickly as he takes note of his rapidly beating heart.

He can’t deny, she glows.

Meanwhile, in the main lounge are the mindless mutts—as per Riki’s words—who are enjoying their time together with rounds of billiard and glasses of expensive wine.

TACK!

Jaeyun strikes a ball and exhales a heavy breath through the nose after hearing their oldest’s query. He straightens his posture. “I’ve told you time and time again that my invitation was purely because I wished to ease her worries. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Heeseung scoffs, skeptical. “As if you could have innocent intent. I say you were hoping to win her favour and perhaps even entry to her private chamber.”

A scoff emits from the second older and they turn to Jongseong who’s swirling his cold beverage inside his crystal glass, watching it with a dreamy expression and a drunken grin.

“What’s with him? He’s been acting like this since morning,” Sunghoon asks, brows knitting at their brother’s weird behaviour. “It’s like he’s got his head in the clouds.”

Heeseung crosses his arms. “He looks strangely…blissful. What kind of ‘medication’ did you take this time?”

“Hm?” Seong raises a brow before shaking his head. That same, loopy grin still on his face as he sets down his glass onto the round table. “There’s no medication. Is it a crime for a man to simply be happy?”

Now all three are casting puzzled yet judgmental looks to him before they return to their game—which becomes instantly interrupted when he speaks his next words.

“Although I must say, this elation is all thanks to a certain, breathtaking maiden. Oh, such a sweet little vixen, she is,” he chuckles before inhaling the contents of his glass within a breath. “Truly the best I’ve ever had.”

“What??” They all blurt, almost in harmony and Heeseung strides to the intoxicated man before seizing his collar.

“What do you mean by that?” Hee asks with blatant frustration and at the other’s lovesick giggle, he tightens his grip. “Tell me!”

Knock, knock.

The other two momentarily shift their focus to the door but finds themselves mesmerized upon seeing the girl that enters with a tray of biscuits in hand.

She smiles brightly but it drops after seeing the unfolding scene. “Wh-what’s happening here?”

Heeseung and Jongseong turn at the sound of her voice and the former lets go to which the latter instantly flees to embrace the girl from behind.

His arms tight around her waist as he buries his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent and basking in her warmth that makes shivers crawl up and down his spine. Memories from last night replay in his head which instantly builds a tent in his trousers. “Hi, darling~”

His friends watch as the girl’s face flush deeply and widened eyes dart across each and every one of them before she wriggles away from the drunken noble’s hold.

“I-I heard you all were spending time in the lounge and prepared some snacks,” she says quickly with a clear of her throat, completely disregarding Jongseong’s inappropriate conduct.

Jaeyun is the first to step forward and takes the baked goods from her with his own grin. His face is radiant with joy and appreciation. “Thank you. We’ll make sure to enjoy them.”

Sunghoon nods and hand reaches out to grab one—humming with eyes turning rounder and brows raised to show his awe. “I am impressed. Did you make these on your own?”

The girl’s cheeks mantle with shyness as she bobs her head subtly. “I hope you don’t mind. I know that my skills are still lacking compared to others.”

Heeseung suddenly holds her hands in his before raising them up to press his warm, plush lips onto them. A handsome smile stretches and he gazes at her adoringly while thumbs caress her skin. “Anything made by these gentle, loving touch of yours is bound to be nothing short of perfection.”

His friends roll their eyes at his nauseating flirtatiousness and truthfully, (y/n) is repulsed by it too. If it wasn’t for the other presences in the room, she would have hissed at the man who’s so brazenly grasping her hands. He knows that, thus why he chooses to be so openly ‘affectionate.’

She smiles patiently which shifts his grin to a smirk at her defeat but his victory is short-lived due to a blotto Jongseong pulling her away and into his chest.

“Stop flirting with my woman!” He slurs with a drowsy glare at the older. He then, turns the girl around to face him before smashing his lips onto hers—eliciting large gasps and imbuing overflowing displeasure within the other three.

“What are you doing??” Sunghoon roars and roughly yanks the maiden away. His grip is forceful, enough to leave a bruise and judging from that itself, it’s clear to her that he doesn’t care about her being assaulted by Jongseong.

He’s merely a greedy, bitter boy whose shiny new toy was stolen.

(y/n) wishes nothing more than to sink her teeth into his flesh and tear a large enough hole just to see him bleed an excruciatingly slow death.

But she musn’t.

“Sunghoon, I’m fine…” She quietly says into his chest as she’s crushed tightly against it and Hoon looks down at her, brows knitting before he lifts his head back to the older. Wrath flashes across his face.

“I would have you reported to Sunoo if it isn’t for the fact that I’m already walking on eggshells in this residence,” he hisses with pure disdain before letting his gaze fall onto the girl once more. The second time, he notices the swell and small cut on her lip—a sight much too familiar for him who’s spent many passionate nights with women.

“You…you slept with her? Is that why you’ve got your nose to the skies?”

Jongeong snickers, a sneaky, smug sound as he nods with droopy eyes. “And she’s absolutely amazing. Such a wonderful performer, it made me think she’s a sinful little devil-” He pauses to set his intoxicated gaze onto the furiously flushed girl—reaching out but Sunghoon takes a step back with her. “Behind an angel face.”

Hearing his words, to listen and have his suspicions confirmed verbally, Heeseung feels an indescribable…rage bubble within him. It starts from his chest—boiling and steaming and reaching his head, inevitably causing him to burst.

“Hyung!” Jaeyun shouts in alarm when their oldest brother pounces on Jongseong, instantly straddling him onto the tiles before throwing fist after fist onto the younger’s sharp visages.

The drunken Jongseong is too blotto to properly defend himself and ends up bleeding from the nose and mouth—Heeseung’s ruthless blows proving to be not only quick but fatal too.

Sunghoon quickly spins on his heels, shielding (y/n) from witnessing the gruesome scene yet makes no attempt to calm the fight—neither does Jaeyun.

Because despite not taking an active part in turning Seong into a pulp, they both feel indiff—no, delighted and relieved to see him being bruised and battered.

After all, how dare he? To touch (y/n) when they themselves haven’t? How dare he attempt to covet her on his own?

How dare he let himself be greedy, even when all of them are too?

Unfortunately for them, their entertainment is cut short by the entrance of another noble, one whom (y/n) have been awfully keen on meeting.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jungwon asks with a stiffness and volume that suggest composed authority.

He needs not to shout. The power he holds is enough to subjugate the nobles, to mute their voices and bind their movements.

The abrupt silence is deafening and (y/n) listens to the only sound heard—Sunghoon's rapidly beating heartbeat. He's nervous, scared of Yang Jungwon. They all are.

And the knowledge of that makes the corners of her mouth lift and body shiver with thrill. He's here, the master puppeteer she needs.

Sunghoon feels her tremble, misunderstanding it as a sign of fear and his arms encase her further—hoping to comfort her whilst also quelling his own anxiety.

Jungwon arches a brow, a look of displeasure formed as his tongue runs across his right molars. "Why the abrupt quietness? Where did all that vigor go, hyungs?"

Heeseung clears his throat as he reluctantly frees Jongseong's collar from his forceful grip, leaving him sprawled and wounded on the floor. "It is nothing. Just...a small disagreement."

Won runs a scrutinizing gaze up and down his figure before at the others who divert their eyes away from the noble of higher ranking and finally, his stare fixes onto the girl securely held in Hoon's toned, muscular arms. "Why is she here?"

"She just stopped by to deliver us refreshments," Jaeyun chimes and gestures to the tray of biscuits. "She has nothing to do with the argument."

"You do know that if Sunoo hyung were to discover of this, you and Sunghoon hyung would be in a position much precarious than you already are, don't you?" Won asks and the older nods meekly. "Then why do I see neither of you attempting to cease the fight?"

The mentioned two grow stiff at this, both their mind and body as they're unable to muster up a logical and excusable reason.

How can they say that the reason they did nothing is because they were jealous of Jongseong? That they wanted him to be maimed to the point of no return for touching what is theirs? Of course, they each have a twisted and different belief regarding their ownership of (y/n)—each thinking that they are more deserving of (y/n) than the other.

It's laughable.

"She should not be here. Sunoo hyung will only grow more agitated than he already is if he were to find out," Jungwon sighs out exasperatedly and turns to the girl, a hand reaching out to her. "Come with me. I'm sure the maids have gone to inform the host of this...shameful and disappointing occurrence. It's best that you are absent when he comes to check."

(y/n) stares at his palm, wordless and expression ambiguous. To get a man with a character like Jungwon, what is the best approach?

Should she be unconditionally obedient and bend to his every whim? Or should she be rebellious—denying and challenging his overwhelming authority that he so very much holds pride in?

Then again, why not both?

She accepts his hand, sliding hers onto it with the softest of touches and just when Jungwon's victorious grin begins to form and fingers start to curl around hers, she pulls away.

His face falls instantly as he brings his rounded, confused eyes to the girl who's now clutching onto Sunghoon's arm like a fearful feline—much to Sunghoon's pleasure, if he is to be honest.

"How am I meant to trust and follow you? I don't know who you are," (y/n) says with deep skepticism as well as a light furrow, a striking difference to the others who wear miens of shock and fright.

Did she just say she does not recognise Yang Jungwon? The son to the prestigious, mighty noble family only second in line of power aside from royalty? If it was any other person, their head would be flying with a swing of a sword and body burnt at stake for all to see as a fair warning.

Sunghoon quickly grapples her shoulders as he looks down to her with widened, frantic eyes before back at the younger yet more prominent figure in high society. "It seems she has not been thoroughly educated seeing as how she is still ignorant to the knowledge regarding the aristocracy. It seems Sunoo has been too occupied with his household responsibilities to acquire her a tutor."

Jaeyun and Heeseung both nod their heads in agreement while Jongseong remains sprawled and inert on the floor, unconscious from their oldest's aggression.

Jungwon shifts his sharpened gaze from Hoon to the others, seeing the panic and plead for his mercy—a shocking display as their desperation is not for themselves—but for the girl who, unlike the others, remain composed and still as she stares right at him. So bold and reckless. His brows knit but he quickly clears his throat before straightening his posture with a deep breath.

"Of course, she is not to blame," he says with strained politeness. "My name is Yang Jungwon, second son of the renowned Yang Ducal Family. I am also a childhood friend of the host, your saviour, Kim Sunoo. Will this be ample enough of information for you to deem me trustworthy for now?"

All eyes dart to the lone maiden who continues her silence for a good few seconds before finally, slipping away from Sunghoon's reluctant grip to approach Jungwon.

No other words are exchanged with the others as the two stride out the room, arm in arm, with the noble guiding her away.

"Tell me, (y/n)," Jungwon starts without so much as a glance to the addressed. "What prompted for such an argument to transpire?"

His beautiful dark eyes trail towards the girl and he sees her reticence from her nervous blinks and bite onto her bottom lip. A smug grin stretches to reveal his dimple as he now triumphs in his success of unnerving her who was previously so brazen.

"It is merely a drunken fight. Jongseong have had a little too much to drink and Heeseung sought to quell his outbursts. The others were afraid that their intervention would lead to more troubles thus why they remained at the sides," (y/n) answers while deliberately avoiding the main reason for the fight: her. "It is just that."

Undoubtedly, Jungwon is not fooled. He has been friends with those rotten nobles for as long as he can remember to know that Jongseong is not one to have violent drunk habits. Something, or someone, must have caused such a chaos. "Is that so? I take it that there is no reason for you to lie to me but I can't help from wondering if it truly is as simple as you say."

"As you have said, there is no reason for me to be untruthful," (y/n) concurs.

"Agreed. So why do I feel as though you are hiding something from me?" He accuses. The teasing yet, predatory cadence of his tone acting as a warning—an indirect but clear message for her to tell him the full story or there will be consequences.

And yet, she manages to shock him once more with her response. Turning her head to him, her brows knit and stare hardens enough to reveal a sliver of her displeasure. "Why are you so eager to know? What benefit will it bring for you? It has passed and you will not be able to change anything even if you were to discover what caused it."

Jungwon grins upon noticing the falter of facade. The past few days he has seen her, she was always so gentle, sweet—a truly angelic soul but he knows better. To be able to effectively have his brothers wrapped around her dainty fingers—to have them begging for her, to have them pursue and continue to with unwavering interest—she needs to be more than just a naive, kind soul. She needs to be smart. Manipulative. And maybe even...twisted as they are, in a way, if not more.

"I merely am curious. There is no sin in that, is there?" He sings after, almost in a purr as delight fills him at her new character.

Their gazes are fixed, boring into one another and her rosy lips part to speak.

"Curiousity kills the cat."

"But, I am not a cat."

"True, however-" she starts and her scrutinizing gaze wanders his face, tracing his features with silent judgement before her lips pull to a small smile—surprising him. "You look like one. A cat."

His smug, confident thoughts turn silent at this, upturned eyes falling back to their original shape and jaw tightens.

What does she mean by that? Was that...a threat? Was she, in a way, warning him not to pry further or an impending doom will follow? She?

Insignificant she?

Worthless, untitled and nameless she?

How mindless. Brazen. Irritatingly... amusing. So very entertaining, it leaves him wanting to see more.

"I believe this is far enough. Thank you for your company and care, your grace," (y/n) suddenly says and he takes note of the lack of frigidity and impishness that she portrayed before—now returned to carry that air of naivety and sweet innocence as she bows politely. "Until we see each other again."

And with that she departs without a single glance back or hesitation and Jungwon finds himself transfixed until her figure disappears around a corner.

He gasps quietly, unaware of his own behaviour and clears his throat before hasting away to the other direction.

Meanwhile, (y/n) grins to herself as she recalls his diverse expressions in her head. Jungwon's so easily taken aback and rattled for such a renowned aristocrat. That's the thing with powerful people—so accustomed to others giving them their unconditional respect and bending to their every will that they sometimes forget that there are those who will not be subservient as how they expect them to be.

That there are others who can choose to challenge their authority and it riddles the nobles sometimes, unable to properly react and believe such truth.

Truly, the only naive and ignorant here is Yang Jungwon himself.

—

Riki stands outside the ballroom with his hand holding the handle in contemplation.

Is this the right choice? Or is it just a waste of time? It brings him no advantage whatsoever to find out more about her. After all, even if he were to discover that (y/n) is not as pristine as she is and instead, a vile, wicked with Riki believes her to be, none of his brothers will trust him.

With them being so enraptured by the girl, they'll simply think he is telling fibs, giving no weight whatsoever to his words.

Still, Riki finds himself pulling the door open since he is in fact, already at the agreed venue. But he doesn't expect to be so quickly paralyzed—not of fear, no, but more of...mesmerized by her beauty—within one foot in.

There, within the massive, empty ballroom is the dancing maiden who is adorned in soft fabric of silky white and a sheer white scarf that she uses as a prop.

Holding it in her hands, she performs immaculately as she hums an eerie yet, mystical tune that echoes within the four tall walls of the chamber—resounding and hypnotising like a siren's song.

Every single sway, bend and twirl are executed with perfection, with elegance and precision that rivals those that are already masters at choreography. Her hair flows and drapes beautifully alongside the thin fabric that she grasps in her hands—as if able to control their movements and they wave and float so gracefully that Riki's certain she must have used a kind of sorcery.

Her movements are akin to the flow of water. Sometimes slow and calm and yet so sharp and fierce at others however, they all blend so seamlessly. She not only is a virtuoso in the arts of dance, but she herself, is the masterpiece.

Riki's plush lips part as he breathes deep and slow. His sharp eyes widened slightly as she stares at her with pure awe. She glows. She undeniably is otherworldly.

"Riki?" Her soft voice echoes when she speaks and even the sound itself is spellbinding to him. He remains still as she approaches him who's still standing at the door and (y/n) tilts her head with subtle bemusement. "Why have you not entered yet? Come."

Unalike his previous hostility to the girl, he continues to be silent and relenting when she gently holds his hand to bring him further into the room.

She uses no force whatsoever as his feet seem to move on their own.

"Will you guide me?" (y/n) asks and looks up at him whose gaze has never once left her from the very moment he stepped into the ballroom. "Sunoo says that to learn ballroom choreography and etiquette is of most importance. Unfortunately, with him so busy with his responsibilities, I have not been able to sharpen my dance."

Riki says nothing at first and his hand naturally finds its way to her waist, momentarily surprising her before his other hand leads one of hers to rest on his shoulder. "I shall help you."

And that he does.

His change in character takes (y/n) aback. She did not expect him to be so easy to tame when he was so adamant against her before. But it seems to her know that he's merely a young lord desperate for the love and attention he is so deeply deprived of.

And there's nothing more fun to (y/n) than to indulge in his simple little wishes to gain his trust and affections, to make him lean on her and to be the first he searches for in times of need—just to completely vanish. Oh, how delicious his agony will be for her.

"Thank you for teaching me," (y/n) says after they've finished their lesson and Riki, like for the most of their time together in the ballroom, remains silent and only nods. "You do have commendable skills in choreography.”

Riki’s heart skips a beat at her compliment paired with that little cheeky smile that she wears and he has to momentarily move his eyes away, hiding his shyness.

(y/n)’s smile widens at this, finding delight at his crumbling walls but then a knock at the door steals their attention.

A maid bows to a perfect angle, hands on her centre abdomen before she stands back up straight. “Madam (y/n), Lord Sunoo have asked for your presence in his study.”

Riki furrows at this as mild jealousy imbues. It’s unfair how Sunoo is the only one allowed to summon (y/n) whenever and wherever he wants. But the younger quickly pushes the thought away at the realization that he’s beginning yo hold affection for the girl.

“Thank you for telling me. I shall make my way soon,” (y/n) replies and the servant bows again before departing, leaving (y/n) and the noble alone once more. “Thank you once more for being such a patient tutor. I will show you my gratitude some other day soon.“

‘Patient?’ The word echoes in the noble’s mind. Such a rare praise for him to be graced upon.

He focuses back to the girl when she offers a small curtsy before rushing the door with nimble, soundless steps. It still amazes him how she can seem to levitate.

The door swings open in her hold but she stops just as it widens to a gap wide enough—turning around to smile at him and eyes scintillate.

“You have very warm and gentle hands, Lord Riki. It seems I was wrong to believe you were a completely stoic and cold figure,” she comments lastly and throws in a small, soft chuckle before finally slipping through the space.

Riki stands still, dumbfounded and heart races fervently in his chest. He looks down at his shoes as his adam apple bobs in his throat, nervously swallowing at the realization of what’s becoming of him.

What’s blooming within him for (y/n).

And so he wears a mien of displeasure, rejecting the idea as he approaches the doors. ‘Preposterous.’

But the blush that dusts his cheeks tell no lie.

It doesn’t take long for (y/n) to arrive at Sunoo’s study and the moment she entered, she’s instantly wrapped within the warm embrace of his arms.

“I missed you. I missed you so dearly, so much,” he whispers earnestly against her head before pressing a long, affectionate kiss on her temple. “The days without your presence felt so long and torturous. I felt my sanity fleeting.”

(y/n) can’t help the giggle that emits and she reciprocates his touch with one of her own—caressing the back of his head as her fingers play with the hair tickling his nape.

Her voice is pure music to his ears, the most melodic of tunes and he purrs—nuzzling deeper into her hair and pressing her tight against his bod. The warmth from her figure makes him melt and he brings them to the couch whilst still intertwined.

Sitting her on his lap, Sunoo rests his hand on her thigh while the other gently combs through her hair that drapes down her back.

“Is your work finished?” (y/n) asks, looking at him who gazes at her with oozing endearment.

He nods, meeting her eyes and pupils dilate as his heart swells with overflowing adoration for the girl. “Finally. Now, I can spend my days with you without interruption.”

The air in the room feels light and almost infused with a sort of aromatherapy the moment she entered, untangling every knot in his exhausted muscles and fogging his brain to the point of blissful dumbness.

His eyes see nothing but her, ears hear nothing but her and mind thinking of her and only her. He’s consumed by her in every possible manner and he will not have it any other way.

“Why do you look at me like so?” (y/n) asks and lifts her hand to cup his cheek which he leans himself further into.

“Like what?”

The girl begins to stroke his cheek and he shudders at the feeling, a shaky sigh leaving past his rosy lips at the delightful sensation he has craved for so long.

“As if… you would lay down your life for me,” she finishes and he almost snorts at her words—not of ridicule, but of amusement that she only thinks it. At this point, he thought he has made it clear enough for her to know that he will.

That he will lay down his life, his everything, if it meant that it is for her.

“(y/n), I have surrendered to you, body and soul,” Sunoo declares without a single pinch of hesitation and he wraps his fingers around her arm softly before pressing his lips onto the inner wrist.

The sensation is warm and an unfamiliar fuzziness erupts from the girl’s chest and travels to every end of her limbs. Especially so when Sunoo’s other hand cups her chin and their eyes meet. “I’ve grown to love you, (y/n). So deeply and so intently, that I now see no future without you in it. If you were to disappear, I will, with no doubt perish.”

His words ignite something within the siren and her deep, searching eyes spark with an enigmatic quality.

The silence in the room is deafening aside from their soft exhales and inhales. The atmosphere begins to shift from wholesome lightheartedness to a tantalizing provocativeness.

Sunoo’s breaths hitch when (y/n)’s gaze flickers to his lips and he stills—hands resting on his sides now curling into the cushions they sit on and heart beating rapidly in its cage, almost as if it aims to break from its confines.

“(y/n),” he mewls after a while of inertia from the other, the suspense beginning to kill him as his throat dries and body trembles with need. “(y/n)…”

The girl titters warmly at his desperation, finding him absolutely lovely as he quivers ever so slightly under her and knuckles turned white from his fierce clutch on the couch.

She can’t deny him any longer—leaning forward to his lips and he meets her halfway eagerly.

A choked moan escapes him at the contact and his arms tremble as they lift to wrap around her waist. Pretty long lashes flutter as his eyelids close to relish in the moment, in her.

He gasps into the kiss when her tongue darts between his lips to explore his mouth and his brain nearly goes into short circuit, almost shutting down from the amount of pleasure and bliss he’s being filled with.

(y/n) smiles against him—hand trailing from around his neck down to his chest which causes his bod to flex and tighten in response and he whimpers when feeling her fingers trace the waistband of his trousers.

Despite being so out of breath, he refuses to pull away and (y/n) has to lean herself back just so they’d separate—immediately gaining a whine of disappointment from the noble.

“You’re so beautiful…” (y/n) praises, voice wispy and Sunoo groans with contentment at that. His pupils are blown out and they’re especially visible due to the honey tone of his foxy eyes and it fills the siren with satisfaction. “My beautiful, sweet boy…”

Her words only feed to his hunger and he’s back to chasing after her lips—prodding his nose against her cheek as he pants, craving for her taste once more yet fearful to do so without her permission.

“I’m yours, all yours,” he breathes out in feeble yet heavy mewls as his lips latch onto her shoulder, kissing every exposed surface to satiate his fervent hunger for her.

(y/n) hums and she pulls him closer, eliciting an excited moan from the lad who instantly begins to savor everything of her. Burying his nose in the crook of her neck and licking stripes of her skin—he’s addicted to her.

He lowers her onto the couch with slow, gentle motions, letting her head rest on the pillowy armchair as he sandwiches her into the couch. A soft grunt escapes him at the pressure against his hardened core and (y/n) notices instantly—feeling the stiffness as he instinctively bucks his hips forward.

Sunoo bites his lip in panic and face mantles with shame. "I-I'm sorry. I just..."

He quietens at (y/n)'s soothing shushes as her hand gently strokes his back, causing him to quiver more violently than before.

"It's alright, Sunoo. You’re alright," she assures and she lifts her head slightly, letting her lips graze the shell of his ear to which he mewls at. "Use me."

At her permit, his eyes widen briefly but soon after, he finds himself moving—frantic and desperate—and rutting against her like a poor dog.

(y/n) grins at this, whispering sweet nothings into his ear which easily drives him over the edge and eyes roll to the back of his skull as his jaw falls slack—letting out pretty little sounds and chanting her name like a mantra.

So utterly pathetically lovely.

—

That night.

Heeseung sits on the couch in his room. His bottom lip is captured between his teeth as he chews on it contemplatively, eyes drift left to right between rapid blinks and he lets out deep exhale.

Should he tell Sunoo about Jongseong sleeping with (y/n)? If he does so, then Jongseong will obviously face punishment—which Heeseung hopes to be dire enough so he can never meet with the girl ever again—and that will obviously benefit him in pursuing (y/n). One less rival to worry about.

However, it is also a risk. Sunoo has been noticeably volatile as of late, and (y/n) seems to be a constant catalyst for it. His attention and senses are piqued whenever it concerns her and even just letting her name roll off his tongue might bring unfavourable consequences.

A groan leaves his throat and his head falls against the couch, weighty from the stress.

But he wants to rid off Jongseong. The fact that the latter's already spent a passionate evening with (y/n) when she's still guarded around him shows how greatly disadvantaged he is. And even more so with (y/n) seeming to have a personal level of dislike with him.

Knock, knock.

A frustrated sigh escapes as he drags himself to the door and opens it with a harsh swing.

"You seem distressed. Would it be presumptuous of me to think it involves me?" (y/n) asks with a brow raised and tone mocking.

Heeseung stands stiff with doe eyes widened in surprise at her unexpected visit, especially at such a scandalous hour. "No... I-I was thinking of you."

"Your honesty is endearing," she coos and strides into the room without bothering to ask for his permission. She sits herself onto the edge of his bed and crosses her legs and arms—eyes darting to him a and she furrows. "Would you rather have a servant see me in your chambers at this unholy hour? Close the door."

The owner of the room does as ordered, careful to ensure that it's securely locked before approaching the girl who's so casually waiting for him.

It unnerves him somehow—how he's the one anxious and jittery at being in one same room with the maiden despite it being his own. Not to mention the clear power dynamic between them, her being supposedly more subservient and meek.

The realisation of that irks him now and his fingers curl to form fists at his sides.

"What brings you here?" He asks directly, stoic and stern to feign control.

"To ease your worries," (y/n) replies sweetly and Heeseung's hair rises at it—both aroused and yet fearful of how angelic she can sound despite the wicked slyness that lies within.

He gulps. “Wha…What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you the answer to your questions: don’t.”

The noble furrows with confusion at this before finally understanding what she means, plush lips parting in awe before it tilts to a condescending smirk—brow arching as a scoff escapes. “And why should I heed your words?”

(y/n) stares and shakes her head softly. “It is simple a suggestion. If you wish to go against it then do so. However, I cannot assure you that you would remain untouched.”

Her ambiguous statement makes him tilt his head and she continues. Leaning back with her arms by her sides to prop her figure, she too drops her head slightly backwards to look up at him.

“Do you know why Sunghoon was almost removed from the property?” She starts and Heeseung shakes his head, belatedly realizing that they’ve only truly heard the full story of Jaeyun but not the younger lad. “It is because he offered a proposition to Sunoo—to transfer me to a corrective facility to fix my ‘insanity.’ As solicitous and gracious as it is, why do you think Sunoo was so negative towards it?”

Hee frowns, growing more puzzled at her riddle and what she is leading to, only able to shake his head side to side.

“Simply, it is because he interpreted it as Sunghoon trying to steal me away. It is the same with Jaeyun where he understands his little act of defiance as him coveting me, to attempt to win my affections. So you see, dear Sunoo perceives all of you as his enemies. You are no exception,” (y/n) finishes and Heeseung stumbles backwards at her abrupt rise.

Taking small steps forward which leads to his retreat, the back of his knees eventually touch the cushions of his couch before ultimately stumbling onto it. He gasps when (y/n) climbs atop him—legs straddling his lap as she cages his head between her hands that rest on the seat’s header.

“You’re a smart boy, are you not?” She taunts and despite it meaning to be of insult to him, he finds himself perking—heart racing and breaths hitching in anticipation and want. “Then, I believe you will make the right choice, Heeseung.”

The mention of his name with her tongue makes him eager, wishing to hear it more and more and his hand travels upwards to gently hold her arm. “At least, tell me why. Why are you so against me telling Sunoo? Will it not be more favourable for you to have me removed—seeing as how you don’t seem to very wlecoming of me? Or do you hold so much affection for Jongseong that you fear having him separated?”

Saying it aloud pierces a shard into his chest.

'She does not hold any affection for me. She does not... want me.'

The reminder of that pains him so even when he tries his hardest to reject it. He refuses to succumb, to be defeated and crushed by the weight of this disappointment and grave hurt but with every passing second, it only grows.

He thought his feelings for (y/n) was mere infatuation—short-lived and cheap obsession, something that will dissipate within a few days—but it's clear now that what he feels is much more real and complex than he ever expected.

Heeseung truly likes her. He's besotted, enamoured and it's excruciating to know that his feelings will never be reciprocated.

"What are you saying?" (y/n)'s airy, enchanting voice distracts his from his thoughts and he's made to meet her eyes by her hands that cup his jaw to lift it. Seeing her however, only fuels the flames of anguish in his heart and his cheeks flush as eyes water.

"Am I not correct? Is what I say not true?" He manages to ask through his cracking voice and he purses his lips after to quieten the sobs that threaten to escape.

"Yes...but also no," (y/n) replies and Heeseung frowns, confused and even more so when she lowers slightly to plant a fond, lingering kiss on his forehead. When she pulls away, he's staring up at her with eyes glossed over and lips parted with surprise. "It is true that I hold affection for Jongseong but, it is untrue that I am unwelcoming of you. If anything, I am most inclined towards you."

"You jest," Heeseung denies, brows knitting but the stardust in his eyes belie his actions—secretly hoping she will refute him. “If you mean what you say, then you would not have been so cold to me while you are so sweet and loving to the others.”

His near-sulky response through his pouty lips make her giggle and seeing it ignites the hope Hee holds.

“Silly, aren’t you? Have you not yet understood? The reason why I am so cold to you, and only you is because you are the only one I truly am comfortable with. You are the only one whom I trust enough to reveal my true self—you, Heeseung, are special.”

The sparks in his eyes multiply like stars in the black night sky, twinkling brighter and bigger, after hearing her explanation.

Can it be…can she really be telling the truth?

Before he can ponder on the thought, he’s rendered speechless, brainless by the chaste kiss that (y/n) graces him and he gasps into it.

“Again,” he breathes out after she pulls away but shr presses her finger against his mouth when he attempts to push forward. “Please. I’ve been dreaming for this day for so long. Can I not have just one more?”

“The type of man you are, you will not be satisfied with a kiss,” (y/n) slurs provocatively and Heeseung’s adam apple bobs anxiously and excitedly.

She stands, hands now behind her back as she looks down tenderly at the panting man who’s clearly struggling in his seat—and trousers. “As much as I am fond of you, I only grant rewards to those who deserve it. Do you think you are deserving?”

His lips part and quiver, wanting to answer and yet unsure of what to say.

(y/n) smirks before turning away from the young lord whose anxiety only grows at seeing her departure.

It is no wonder that she can only take one full step before suddenly being halted by a pair of hands gripping the back of her long skirt with vehement determination.

“I deserve it! I do! I shall do as you say and bring the knowledge of your affairs with Jongseong to my grave! I w-will not say a word so please, please,” Heeseung begs for her approbation with chest heaving violently from heavy breaths. “Reward me with your affections. D-did you not say that to you, I…I am special?”

(y/n)’s spine tingles with anticipation and delight at the vulnerability his portrays—turning around to set her eyes on the other who's settled on his knees, dead set on having her even at the cost of his own pride.

She tuts in pretense before hovering her hand above his head to which he lifts himself slightly to touch his crown against it, letting out a shuddered breath at her warmth. "Can I trust you?"

Heeseung nods vigorously with eyes wide and fingers taut around the fabric shielding her legs. His hair bounces and he crawls forward to nuzzle his face against them. "Yes, yes, you can! Just please, I yearn for you so gravely. My mind has been filled with nothing but thoughts of you. I've made it a habit of mine to stroll in the garden every day in hopes that I could meet you, or even catch the slightest glimpse of you and yet, I never could. It's driven me half-mad. "But after hearing that you've shared an evening with Jongseong, my rationality have been tested and the thread of sanity slipped between my fingers much easily than I ever expected. I've never felt this way to anyone ever before and I struggle—I am tortured each day without having your presence, your attention despite knowing that you've bestowed it upon Sunoo so unconditionally. I—You...you've bewitched me, (y/n). And yet, I find it so grand, so beautiful as it is excruciating."

(y/n) only stares at the poor, pitiable vile noble—watching as his glassy eyes pool the longer she remains silent. To him, her quiet is devasting. He interprets it as rejection and despite being a man who can easily obtain what he wants—with or without consent—he finds himself needing her approval. He craves to hear her validation.

And (y/n), as always, knows that. She's aware of how poor little Heeseung is actually a sheep beneath his wolf' clothing. He acts so tough and cold to remain untouchable, to remind those around him that he is a man of power—a snap of his fingers and they'll be sent behind bars or stripped off their clothes.

Unfortunately, the more he plays this daunting, dominating character, the more he forgets his true skin and how truly vulnerable he is. And once that shiny armour of bravado is torn off his figure, he is left bare, naked for all to see.

Much like he is now.

"My poor Heeseung. All this time I have been so aloof with you to conceal my admiration but it seems I have grown overboard. Look at you," she coos as she too joins him on the floor. His eyes never leave hers and his head lowers to now be face-to-face as he sniffles.

With a nose as red as Rudolph and eyes as clear and vulnerable like a prey against predator—he is truly a sight to behold.

"It is only fair that I make it up to you, hm?" She asks wispily and once again, his head bobs violently, eager to be rewarded and she grins—cupping his cheek with one hand and gently pulling his head back by the hair to expose his neck. "Of course, anything my love wants, he shall have."

'My love.'

The endearing term echoes in his head and he whimpers at how pretty it sounds. How pretty she sounds. And along with her hot, pillowy lips pressed against his throat, it doesn't take much time for him to emit a guttural, rumbling groan before he bursts right then and there—writhing and convulsing in her hold as she continues to devour him until the break of dawn.

After all, she is hungry—and vain, iniquitous men just happens to be her favourite delicacy.

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 3 (the finale)

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

inspired by ‘milk of the sirens’ by melanie martinez and ‘siren’ by kailee morgue

𝜗𝜚 finally the second's part here, so sorry it took so long!! (┬_┬) i'm sorry to those who i said it would come out last two weeks ago, i hope this chap's entertaining enough to make up for it!! anyways, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog for some motivation!! but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

taglist for this series is closed—thank you for supporting ♡

@angelicyouth @lilyuwon @sakanelli-afc @lakoya @clara12o @heeseung-min @inkpot-winters @lilikisuki @randomanothercreature @laylasbunbunny @hveanlyanqelic

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mindless-existence1 · 1 month ago

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More sfw Mha boyfriend headcanons

Authors note: Kinda a part 2 but does relate to the other one at all. My friend helped me with the Ida stuff so thanks pookie. Also this is kinda an in-between fic just so then I can keep myself motivated to write the requests I have

Contents: I think like one curse word

Pt1

Mha Masterlist

My Masterlist

Includes: Bakugo, Denki, Ida, and Tokoyami

Ida would schedule times to hang out with you when he's free. Not because he like hates you or smth but he just has a very set schedule he likes to stick to. If you want to hang out outside of the set time then most likely it'll turn into a study date.

Denki is a yapper and he often yaps about you. His poor friends have to deal with him mentioning you constantly. Something completely random comes up and he's going "Oh I remember y/n was talking about that one time, speaking of them..." he's a simple man you loves his partner.

Tokoyami is a drawer I feel. He'd have a sketch book/journal he carries around for sure. In a not creepy way he'd draw yiu a lot. Like a muse kind of way. He'd never show you butbthen you find it and he has to explain how he just finds you so perfect and then after that he shows you his drawings.

Bakugo would definitely not even realize how in love with you he is untill kirishima or someone mentions it and then he's noticing how different he acts with you. Have him tied around you damn finger.

Ida definitely wakes up hella early to exercise and specifically run (obviously). He'll try to get you to wake up early to but often times he wants to wake up way to early. You just kiss him goodbye most mornings and fall promptly back to sleep.

Tokoyami is a poet I bet. Or at least a song writer which is basically the same thing. His muse? You. In his journel/sketch book he has poems along with the drawings. Another thing he's probably embarrassed about bit high key he's just in love. He has so much to say but is too embarrassed to say it.

Denki would love to share headphones with you. I fear his tase in music would either be shit or the best in the planet. If it's bad you help him shape it to be better. He'd love to keep his in during class so then he can think about you isntead of whatever boring thing you are getting taught. Also I fear he'd forget to charge them all the time.

Bakugo is the type of guy to tell you no while simultaneously doing it. Like you ask him "could you get me a glass of water?" "No is already getting up to get a glass" or he'd tell you know and wait all of 15 seconds before doing it for you.

Denki when he gets nervous will let out little zaps on accident. As most the tickle or leave a slight sting but nothing crazy. So for your first kiss he's freaking out, obviously, and accidently zaps you. Face is bright red and he's now embarrassed for the rest of his life. Definitely wants to go die in a hole but when you start laughing and kiss him anyway he's fine.

Tokoyami would also like to share earbuds with you but like I said before his music taste is immaculate. Personally I like Korn and maybe im biased but I think he'd like that band to. And just all around metal/rock bands. But also just good music in general. Unlike denki he'd charge his earbuds religiously. He'd die without his music same bro.

Bakugo after a hard day of training would go straight to your dorm. Somehow he thinks it's way more comfortable then his. He just plop down on your bed before a shower before changing clothes anything. Which would be ew but he'd eventually do all that but first he needs a kiss and small cuddle with his partner first.

Ida would look up relationship stuff. This is probably cringe but like I fear he'd get nervous about his first relationship and then all the sudden he's looking up "how long should you date before you kiss your partner?" Eventually he realizes he just needs to take everything at his own speed.

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wroetominter · 2 months ago

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Charity Match - George Clarke

Oh shocker, I rise from the writing dead because I have the feels again and need to release them somehow. I hope everyone else feels the same as I do in saying, George better be in the sidemen charity match this spring!

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none, fluff.

———

I had been a long time fan of the Sidemen and their friends for many years. I loved to watch their videos and support wherever I could. Merch drops, their random trading card drops, the like. When they announced they were doing yet another charity event, I jumped at the opportunity to finally attend.

Sat at my laptop, poised and ready to purchase a ticket when they dropped, I felt nerves creeping in, hoping I would get lucky enough to get the seat of my choosing.

Hearing the boys in a ChrisMD video playing in the background, my focus was temporarily drawn to them hiking a mountain. I couldn’t help be distracted by the words they were saying, soon snapping back to my computer as my options for Wembley stadium finally appeared. I panicked, searching for something that was close to where the players come on and off the pitch.

I purchased myself a ticket, feeling relieved that the pressure was over. Shutting my laptop, I was finally able to focus on the video in front of me.

In the months leading up to the game, the players had finally been announced. I wasn’t shocked to find that ChrisMD, and his channels frequent visitors the Arthur’s, George, and Isaac had also been selected to play. As a promotion, and probably to make the stands look like an authentic football match, they listed new merch on the Sidemen clothing website. This included mock football kit tops, sporting the different players so you could show your support. I was excited by this, wanting to differentiate other fans in the audience and build some friendships with like minded individuals around us.

Scrolling through the list of players, I knew pretty instantly the kit I was looking for. Selecting the YouTube all stars kit, personalized to the player “Clarkeey” as listed on the website. I completed my order and smiled, satisfied I would be well dressed for the game coming up so quickly.

—

I finished my outfit with the new football top, tucking it into my jeans slightly to show off my belt. I decided rather casual outfit, seeing as I would be sitting in the stands for a good majority of the game I wanted to ensure I was comfortable. I had dressed in a black jean, with a matching black and gold belt, and some white Nike sneakers with my new football top. I had pulled my hair up, knowing a football match could get quite warm.

Pulling a few loose hairs down to frame my face, and popping my wallet, and lip balm into my pocket I was ready for the match.

The tube to Wembley ended up being extremely packed, as expected. I scoured social media to pass the time, watching story after story. I paused on George’s for a few extra moments, admiring how well he suited his football kit in the photo he took with Chris before the match.

I was quite drawn to the man, finding both his looks and his humor alluring. The type of person that draws you in just by looking at a camera. I stopped my swoon as the train stopped, and we all filed out to get to the stadium.

I quickly found my seat, deciding to grab a drink before the match as well. I settled on a pint, taking it back to my seat and admiring the view of the pitch, and the group of men practicing in front of me. Although I do enjoy the actual football aspect of the matches, you can’t blame a girl for also finding pleasure in watching a pitch full of attractive men run around for 90 minutes.

Locking my eyes to the area in front of me, where I quickly spotted #3, “Clarkeey”. He was practicing between him and ArthurTV, looking incredibly focused. From their videos, George’s competitive side had always been apparent to me. He was quite good at the majority of challenges they had done, finishing in the top three ranks on most occasions. It was no surprise to me that he likely had been practicing his match skills for weeks, or months prior to the match.

I realized I had been staring, but I could have sworn that he looked back up to me. I felt a blush creeping to my cheeks, realizing that he likely had not looked at me, but into the crowd of thousands of people. I brushed it off and snapped a few photos of myself and the pitch, posting them to my stories and socials to show off that I was indeed at the match that day. If it didn’t end up on social media, did it really even happen?

Looking around me, I decided to check out who had been sitting near me as the crowds began to settle in with the match starting soon. To my left, was only three empty seats remaining, whereas to my right, there seemed to be a group of older school age boys cheering on the sidemen as they warmed up. I was roughly three rows from the front, happy I had paid the extra amount to have such close seats as I could see the players ready to begin the match with precise detail from my seats.

The three people needing their seats to my left finally showed, and I recognized them pretty quickly. It ended up being none other than the parents and sister of Chris. I smiled at them politely as they took their seats, Kelly next to me.

“I’m glad I’m sat next to another girl, and not the screaming boys just down there” she said to me, “I’m Kelly, what’s your name?”

I giggled slightly at her remarks to the boys to my right. “I’m Y/n, nice to meet you. You’re Chris’ family, right?” She nodded.

“Yes, the few unlucky enough to call that weirdo family” we laughed together and spent the next few minutes chit chatting. I found myself relaxing more with her, knowing I had someone to talk to helped ease my nerves of coming here alone.

The match started, and the excitement and fun made the time fly by. Cheering as goals came and went, jumping up with his family when Chris scored a goal, and cheering everyone on when the game was over and the winners announced. This year, the YouTube Allstars had taken the trophy! They raised Chris up, holding the trophy and I stood there clapping like a proud mom, watching the group of lads I frequently watched with so much joy between them.

Snapped from my trance, I felt one of the boys to my right tap my arm. Turning to face him to see what he wanted. “Are you George’s girlfriend?” He asked. I was a little taken aback by this, wondering where he could have gotten that impression.

“No, just a fan. Sorry” was all I could think of in response. I clocked one of his friends filming this interaction on his phone.

“Oh, seemed like it from the kit, my bad.” He walked away with his mates, clearly trying to make their way to the front to get closer to the lads. Strange, I thought to myself.

I told Kelly about the interaction and she laughed with me. She pulled me in a little closer, wanting to whisper her next statement to me. “I’m going to bring you down to the pitch with us when we go see Chris” she said. My mouth agape I stared at her, which made her start to laugh.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” I asked her. I was of course excited, but equally nervous for this.

“Yea, absolutely! I was given a plus one and didn’t use it. And I like hanging out with you, you make these events fun. I hope we can do something together soon after this as well. It’s tough to find a friend that both knows this weird world I’m attached to, but simultaneously doesn’t just use me for information about my brother.” I smiled at her kind words.

“Yes, let’s absolutely hang out more. I agree, finding friends in general living alone in London has been difficult for me as well.”

We sat in our seats, waiting for the crowds to die down a bit before security was to come grab us and bring us down to the pitch for family and friend celebrations.

Scrolling through instagram, I found myself on the export page seeing different posts from the match. I saw one in particular that caught my eye. It was a photo of the back of Kelly and I, standing and cheering. With my hair tied up you could clearly see the “Clarkeey” written across my back as we cheered.

The caption read “Chris’ sister and apparently George’s secret girl cheer YTAS on.” I was dumbfounded. This was the second time in the last fifteen minutes I had been told I was George’s supposed secret girl. Looking through the comments I found many people commenting that they thought the same thing after seeing me at the match. A few comments didn’t seem shocked by seeing me, quoting “she is his type after all”. I turned my phone off, trying to shake this from my head as we were led from the stands down to the pitch.

We went to Chris first, obviously so his parents could congratulate them. I was introduced as Kelly’s friend, which although true felt funny as we were incredibly recently friends.

“Congratulations Chris, your goal was so fun to watch!” I told him.

“Thanks Y/n, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I heard we broke last years record for money raised as well, overall I would call this a pretty successful day.” I agreed with Chris’ words.

An arm was soon brought around Chris’ shoulders as we stood around talking. I looked at the new addition to the group, finding George now standing with us.

His hair was slightly stuck down to his forehead from sweat, and he smiled at the group, clearly on cloud 9 from the days events.

“Hello Chris and family” he said, acknowledging the rest of us. His family politely said hello, and Chris’ mom came to give him a hug. I assumed they were well acquainted from how long him and Chris had been friends.

With George stood next to me, it felt rude between the two of us not to introduce ourselves as Chris and his family had become distracted in their conversation.

George turned slightly towards me, sparking the conversation.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly, I’m George Clarke.” He said extending a hand to me. I shook his hand.

“I’m Y/n, supposedly your secret girlfriend.” I mentally face palmed at my awkward conversation starter.

His eyes raised and I rolled mine, pulling out my phone to show him the numerous posts I had found. He laughed at a few of the fanboy comments, cheering him on.

“What sparked this debate online?” He asked with a seriously charming smirk on his face.

I turned my back towards him, showing off the kit I was sporting. He laughed,

“Ahh, yes. That makes sense.” We laughed together.

“And apparently I’m your type, so the people around me sort of assumed, since I was with Chris’ family.” I said.

I was happy that this conversation didn’t feel awkward. It felt light and filled with banter. Knowing my usual track record with men, this conversation was 10 times better than my usual interactions.

“To be fair to them, you are my type.” He said. I felt myself freeze slightly, just staring back at him. I could tell he felt nervous about my reaction to his words based on the words he had just spit out. I nudged him slightly, playing into his flirtatious nature.

“Well if the kit wasn’t obvious enough, you’re my type as well so I suppose they aren’t far off of their assumptions.” George agreed with me and we had a laugh together. Our moment being spoiled by the other lads, ArthurTV, Arthur Hill, Bach, Reev, and a few others joining the group and talking about the major after party celebration they were planning.

“You need to come, pleaseeeee” Kelly dragged out grabbing my arm. Of course, I was secretly praying I was going to be invited. Wanting to continue the conversation George and I were having.

“Of course, I’ll be there.” I said to Kelly, catching George looking at me from the side, a smile forming on his lips. I couldn’t help but blush to myself. Immediately wanting to tell Kelly about the entire interaction I pulled her to the side, filling her in on the details.

“Oh my god, yes! I am making it my personal mission to make sure you talk tonight!” She squealed. It felt so nice to have a wing woman on my side for this.

With this being a party, I wanted to go home and freshen up a bit. Kelly asked to tag along so she could get a rest from the big crowd. I agreed of course, as we made our way back to my flat.

I showed her a couple different outfit choices. Bring it was March and still a bit chilly outside, I settled on a nice but casual sweater top, and some new jeans to compliment. I felt put together but casual so I would still be comfortable.

We talked endlessly about the party, as Kelly begged me to tell her again about the conversation I had with George.

“I don’t know, he told me I was his type, he was definitely flirting, right?” I questioned.

“From everything Chris has told me he’s normally not good at talking to women. I would say yes absolutely. He had the balls to come out directly and say it, he was totally into you!” She divulged that she didn’t have many friends to share this kind of stuff with, so she was really excited to see how this night played out.

Entering the event, she let me know she was going to make herself scarce and go find some other people to converse with while I essentially shoot my shot, as she put it.

I searched the crowd, not finding George anywhere. I settled myself for a moment, realizing he had to be around somewhere.

“What will you have to drink?” His voice rang from behind me, scaring me slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he lightly led me by the small of my back a little closer to him so I could hear him better. My heart fluttering at his small action. The room was crowded after all.

“Umm, I think I’ll have a vodka redbull and pineapple please” I said to him.

“Coming up,” he walked away towards the bar and I felt myself let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He looked insanely good after the match. Dressed in jeans, a white tshirt and a flannel top pulled over it, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him. “Here you are” he handed me the glass, keeping his pint close by him.

We were stood at a bar height table, drinks going by quickly and conversation flowing. It felt natural to be talking to him. It was almost as if we had known each other forever.

“What brought you to the match alone anyway?” He asked as I told him the story of how I ended up here. “No boyfriend?” He added taking a drink of his pint.

“Well, I have been a long time fan, so I figured it was time to come out and support in person, plus, with it being for charity it was a good opportunity overall.” I said, taking a sip of my drink as well. He kept staring at me, and I realized I completely glazed over his addition. “Oh, no, no boyfriend.” His eyes softened a little at my confession.

“Good, I’m glad to hear.” He smiled and I could feel my cheeks heating up. “I don’t often find someone I connect with this well. I was really hoping you’d come tonight.” He confessed. If I thought my cheeks were red before. “I’m sorry I feel like I keep rambling, I’m not good with these situations, really.” I couldn’t quite find the right words in response, causing him to continue his nervous ramble. “If you don’t feel the same connection it’s no worries, really. I just wanted to get to know you a little more I guess and I-”

“George” I cut him off. He pulled his eyes to mine. I placed a hand on his on the table, sensing his nerves. “I want to know you more as well. Believe me, the connection you’re feeling is reciprocated.” He sighed, looking down at our hands together and laughed.

“Thank god, otherwise I look like an idiot here.” I laughed with him.

“You look really cute, not like an idiot at all.” It was his turn to blush at my words.

“You look amazing as well, indeed still my type.” I laughed at his callback to our earlier conversation.

I was thankful for my fangirl antics, which now led me to George.

We spent the rest of the night together, laughing together and with his friends. I could tell his friends were not used to him hanging out with a girl, based on their comments non stop about it. It was funny to see George so flustered by their comments, normally seeing him so confident and casual on the screen.

I heard my name, turning to find Kelly sneaking into our group.

“Was the plan successful?” She quietly said to me. I tilted my head down a little, to show her George’s arm had been wrapped around my waist and rested on my side for the majority of the night. She smiled massively at me, giving me two thumbs up and running off. I laughed which caught George’s attention.

“What’s funny?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” I slid closer to him, reciprocating the arm around the waist and rejoining the group conversation.

This was a very successful night.

#george clarkey #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #George Clarke #George Clarkeey #wroetominterimagines #chrismd #arthurtv

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

General taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen @erin-m-harmon

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #Azriel acotar #a court of silver flames

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and-so-he-rambled · 9 months ago

Text

Costume

(Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters)

Masterlist

“You’re going to fight Batman?” Daniel’s curious eyes peeked over the table, watching Vlad feed material into the sewing machine.

“Not exactly, I’m planning to avoid him as much as possible, but I’m sure we will cross paths.”

“Are you going to fight him with your superpowers?”

“No, remember how no one can find out we’re special? Not even Batman, he’d turn us in to the bad men.”

“Oh.” Daniel continued to watch him as he cut and arranged black material. He’d gone light on any body armour since he didn’t need it and needed the extra movement. He did have some for appearances and in case his powers still were on the fritz by the time he went out. He was getting better with time, but it wasn’t perfect.

“You should be a Badger.”

Vlad paused, looking at the child.

“Pardon?”

“A badger! Wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Vlad staring after him.

He returned with his animal encyclopedia, plopping in on the table and pointing to a honey badger.

“You call me little badger and so Jazz showed me, I’m this one.” He pointed to the badger on the next page, a European badger. “But these ones are called Honey Badgers and they’re really cool and mean, and you should be one like Catwoman is a cat.”

Vlad thought that over. It did seem on brand for a Gotham rogue to have a theme, and while he was only planning on petty thievery it couldn’t hurt. He had gone more for the vampire look once his fangs had grown in but a badger was different enough that nobody would connect the two identities.

“I’m not calling myself Badgerman.” Daniel giggled at that, delighted. “Perhaps you’re on to something though.”

“Would you help me pick a design? I just can’t choose myself.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in joy as he ran away to go find his drawing pad.

Jazz and Daniel worked together for the next few hours, his sister keeping him from making it too complicated. They ended up with a catsuit with a gray stripe down the back with lots of secret pockets and zippers. The mask he had to make a few alterations on, but it had a more American badger design with white down the center of the face and up the cheeks, leaving two stripes of black over his eyes. Jazz vetoed the full cape, with both Vlad and Danny complained about, but he managed to sell her on the shoulder cape.

“I can’t believe I’m going to become a two bit criminal for a giant bat.” Vlad murmered at he started in on his sixth hour of costume creation. He’d cheated with being able to change his ghost clothing at will after a few years of trial and error, this was hard. “I was supposed to be a scientist.”

Jazz was face down on the table, but she raised an arm to synthetically pat at him.

“Th’ goal is t’ avoid th’ bat.” She reminded him sleepily before falling back alseep. He took a break to bring her to bed.

The first goal when they got a payout was to get an apartment with their new identities. As much as he wanted them to stay ghosts it wasn’t feasible for the kids. They needed lives, to be children. Daniel was getting better control of his powers with daily training and eventually he might be able to go to school.

Vlad knew they couldn’t stay in Gotham forever, that once day the government would catch up to them and they’d have to disappear again, he was pretty Jazz knew it too. He needed to give them something before that happened. This time he’d spread the money into off shore accounts, they’d never be left with nothing again.

#Gotham rogue Vlad Masters #danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #jazz fenton #Batman #dc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc

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fuck-customers · 1 month ago

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i love when the resident kitchen idiot that everyone hates, who everyone has been complaining about for months, who kept getting bumped between sections because he wouldn’t do the work expected of him, who only still had a job at all because we didn’t have a body to replace him with, decides to come in at 9:30a for a brunch shift drunk enough that people can smell it on him and gets fired before he can punch in.

it was our last shift before a four day weekend for thanksgiving, you couldn’t give it an extra 4-5h?

the hilarious thing is that we’ve been in a temp chef shuffle since he got hired and every. single. one of them. has immediately fucking despised this guy. the first chef (who hired both me and the kitchen idiot) had probably the lowest standards of quality for our style of venue and would put up with a lot more bullshit than was definitely reasonable but left to go start his own restaurant. then it was our sous chef (who had been hired shortly before me) who would baby him through everything like he’s helping a pre-k’er figure out his letters and left to get his trade journeyman’s—leaving me as the person with the longest tenure in this kitchen and foisting the idiot onto me as his “trainer.”

thing is, i do not have the patience to train someone who refuses to be trained. if i can tell at a glance that it’s not simple misunderstanding due to language barrier, but malicious willful ignorance, i’m not gonna be fucking nice anymore. i’m gonna start actually calling out the bullshit that everyone else had been dancing around for two months prior and the more i have to repeat myself the less happy i’m gonna be and the more aware of it i’m going to make you.

the temps who came in after the sous left agreed with me btw. which included first chef’s boss and another temp. idiot got himself fired less than a week in to our new permanent chef’s tenure and even HE came to me in private to ask if there was anything he could do to get the guy to give a fuck, and i just told him “there’s nothing you could say to him that nobody else already tried” which he sympathized with.

i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you slice meat that you need to wipe down, sanitize, AND reassemble the slicer AND sweep the floor under around the station afterwards as part of completing the task. i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you plate desserts that the point of the toothpick is to keep the plastic wrap OFF the cakes, so it’s not peeling up the frosting/glaze, so that it’s presentable for the customer, and thus punching a hole through the wrap to spear the toothpick through and press the wrap flush to the cake is completely counterinfuckingtuitive. i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you use the food processor that you 1. need to mix all of your ingredients in a separate bowl BEFORE trying to blend them, and 2. need to make sure the blade is in position BEFORE dumping in a bunch of shit that’s going to gum up the works otherwise. i shouldn’t have to reiterate to you and have you repeat back to me three times in quick succession that you only need to follow up to a certain step in the recipe with only a certain collection of ingredients, almost literally draw you a fucking diagram, and then turn around to find you’ve fucked it up so badly it’s clear you didn’t even look at the recipe at all and just the ingredients list (despite having made this recipe before) and have simply proceeded to waste an hour of everybody’s time and the better part of a week’s worth of product—and then fuck it up AGAIN somehow when told to redo it, so that i, AS USUAL, have to waste prep time coming back through behind you to make sure we actually have any usable fucking product.

it got to the point where he was literally turning to me and the girl who still works cold line with me and asking why we weren’t doing the tasks we (as his superiors in the section) kept assigning to him, or at least the part of the task that comprises like 80% of what needs done, and he outright told the latest temp chef that he doesn’t like being expected to do what’s asked of him when he got confronted about it. if not for the fact he got himself fired i would’ve had full clearance to tell him the next time he asked some dumb shit like that “because it’s your job, and if you’re not gonna do the work you’re being asked to do, you can clock out and go home, because otherwise why the fuck is anyone paying you to be here?”

oh well! good riddance to bad rubbish. love it when the trash lets the door hit it on the way to taking itself out.

the funniest thing was when he tried to come back in today, the first day after that four-day holiday, like he expected to still have a job. bro you came in drunk before 10am lmao you don’t have a job anymore you just have a fucking problem. and i have one less! goodbye, i wish you a very harsh wake-up call and a hearty go fuck yourself! get better soon, far the hell away from me ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney

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hidden-snow · 1 year ago

Text

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈ＲｕｎｎｉｎｇＨｏｍｅｔｏＹｏｕ〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,506

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

He was everywhere.

When you were supposed to be training the younger hunters, when you were telling stories to the children, when you were eating meals with the rest of the clan.

No matter where you were, you could count on him being nearby, keeping an eye on you as if you were his and only his.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought, mainly because you knew that, no matter what, you would never belong to anyone. Especially not to him.

Though… in a way, it was also kind of sweet that he cared so much about who you were around. Annoying as it was, he was very eager to show that he still cared about you despite all these years of separation.

No matter what, though, you were determined to not allow him to get into your head again. Not this time. Not ever again.

Gritting your fists, you set yourself into the mindspace of the task you had to do now; some one on one training with a young student who was currently a bit farther behind than the others.

Walking along the trodden dirt path, you came to a clearing surrounded by thickly growing plants, trees towering over you as if reaching to the blue hued sky above. You draw in a slow breath, letting it out slowly as you wait for your student to show up, bow resting against your back.

“I hope you don’t mind. I convinced Ìtseì to let me have this training session with you. I could use some practice with you.”

Exasperated, you turn to level Neteyam with your best, coldest glare, only to find that he was unfazed by your hostility. He simply smirked back at you, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his bow from behind his back.

“Are you sure you still know how to use a bow? After all that time, swimming with the reef people… it probably left you extremely rusty.”

“Ah, there’s that spitfire I’ve been waiting for,” Neteyam responded, notching one of his feathered arrows. Intricately carved, delicate and deadly. Quick to pierce hearts, sharp enough to end a life in one shot.

Just like how he ended the life you’d had before.

You shake your head, regathering your thoughts to what you needed to do.

“You’re a big boy. Help yourself. Since Ìtseì did not show up, I will go and hunt by myself,” you respond, turning your back to the male, fully intent on hunting alone.

Except, he didn’t leave you alone.

You were beginning to wonder if this was a behavioral pattern that had been forged into him by his father from a young age. After all, Neteyam followed Jake around all the time as a child, ready and waiting for orders or instructions that only he could take care of.

That had to be the reason for his stalker-like behavior.

Pushing aside heavy, large leaves and small viney shrubs, you could hear him behind you, despite the fact that he was very obviously trying hard not to make a sound.

“Following me is not going to get you on my good side,” you warn softly, throwing the comment over your shoulder aggressively as you walked a bit faster.

He wasn’t discouraged, nor did he seem to be bothered by your sharp words or your dismissive behavior. In fact, it seemed to spur him on more, his footsteps speeding up so that he could catch up with you.

“Come on, Y/n. Can’t we just talk? You and I, together, like we used to do. Please.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist and you yank away, at the same time swinging your bow at him, instinctive training kicking in. He ducked down, barely missing the slash of your bow in the area where his face had been mere seconds ago.

“Do not touch me, Neteyam te Sulli Tsyeyk’itan. I am not your yawne. I am not your childhood friend. I am not your toy or your plaything. You have destroyed everything we once had. You have crumbled every bridge that sat between you and I. I want nothing to do with you.”

This time, he falters, a look of horror and shock on his face. But you aren’t really sure if that was directed towards the fact that you’d tried to hit him or the words that had just spilled from your lips.

You turn away to hide the tears that were now burning hot and fresh in your eyes, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He didn’t even deserve that.

Your feet move before you can think about it, taking you rapidly farther away from the stunned form of the boy who’d ruined your life. You were certain he’d leave you alone now. After all, he was smart, quick to understand the things people were telling him.

Or at least, he used to be.

Your ears twitch to the sound of him running to catch up once more and you sigh, rolling your eyes. Obviously, the ways of the water have dumbed down that intelligence, considering how desperate he was to ignore your stinging-sharp words and your ice-cold disposition towards him specifically.

“Y/n, stop walking.”

You don’t belong to him. You never did. So why did your feet falter in your path? Why did you hesitate to keep going, even as you turn to face him once more?

“Open up, Y/n. I’m back. I’m here. I’m here and I want to talk to you. I want to fix what I broke before. Please, let me explain myself to you.”

There’s a hint of desperation in that smooth tone of his, a soft drop of pleading that didn’t belong to the body that spoke the words. He’d never been the begging type before.

You open your mouth, prepared to respond in the same way as before, when a sharp sting erupted in your cheek and you tumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

Your hand slides up, cupping your sore cheek, as you stare up in shock at the male looming over you, a new expression on his face. Unreadable and hard to pick apart.

“I just want you to hear me out. Just onc- oomph!”

Before he’s finished, you’re launching yourself at him, slamming your shoulder into his abdomen and knocking him to the ground, the soft grass beneath your feet doing nothing to cushion his fall.

“You don’t deserve my attention!” you shriek, grabbing and yanking at his braids as you wrestle him in an attempt to win the little brawl. He’s fighting back, which you had to give him credit for. It wasn’t something you’d expected from him.

Rolling in the grass, disrupting plants and innocent, wandering wildlife, biting and scratching and pulling at anything you can get your hands on, you realize he’s not going to let you win easily.

And for once in your life since he left, you welcome this. Everyone else had been taking it easy on you, seeing as how you were pretty destroyed by his departure. Things had been done for you if they seemed to be too hard. Your parents had doted on you for the past three years, trying to make up the love that you’d lost.

You needed a challenge.

And he was providing it.

It was exciting, exhilarating, full of promises of a frustrated loss or an awarding victory.

You put your all into this little sparring match, putting all of your otherwise-useless training to use. When it became clear that he was doomed to lose, he still refused to fold, fighting until the very end.

When he tapped out, the sensation of a satisfactory win filled you up inside and you couldn’t help the grin that began to grow on your face.

You sat in the grass, working to catch your breaths, silence spreading out between the small clearing you’d both found yourself in.

It was nice, peaceful and calm. Like the days you’d shared as children, playing in the streams under careful adult watch or laying in the grass and staring up at the sky as his siblings ran around picking flowers and playing games.

“Please, talk to me,” he murmured after a while, breaking the soft, gentle silence that had begun to fill you with melancholy as you reminisced on the days of your childhood.

You stand slowly, dusting yourself off as he watched you, trying to come up with the right way to explain yourself.

“I can’t,” you respond, finally meeting his gaze.

“Neteyam, you cannot fix this. Not now. Possibly not ever. I’ve moved on with my life. Don’t you think it is about time that you moved on with yours as well?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even bother to get up, and you grab your discarded items from the ground, not saying another word.

Yet… as you walk away, you realize with a sinking heart, that perhaps, you’d not gotten over him as much as you wanted to believe you had.

Taglist // @earthling55

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar fandom #avatar fics #neteyam #Neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #running home to you series

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pit-and-the-pen · 9 months ago

Text

Got it Bad- Nessian x Reader

I just reread Silver Flame and I… Listen. My bisexsual ass does not know who I love more.

Summary: Smut (18+), Threesome (M x F xF), p in v sex, face sitting, oral (m/f receiving), spit, shy reader and slight dom! Nesta and Cassian, slight cum play, porn no plot.

Pairing: Nessian x mated! reader

This is my first threesome that I’ve written

Another one I wrote on my phone so only slightly edited.

WC: 2.8k

It truly wasn’t fair sometimes, having not one but two insanely beautiful mates. The heat that had lingered over your whole body seemed to flaring up full force as you watched the two of them training. It was your turn to sit and watch, and watch you certainly did. Beads of sweat were rolling down Cassian's toned abs and Nesta’s face was deliciously flushed as she blocked every one of Cassian’s moves with expert skill. The noises coming from both of them were enough to make your face heat up, shifting slightly in your spot on the ground. The longest you watched them, the more your mind drifted. How Cassian’s sweat would taste as you kissed your way down his stomach, the sweet noises you would draw out of Nesta. It was driving you wild.

There was absolutely no reason for you to be wanting them this much. Cassian had already wrung two orgasms from you before you had even gotten out of bed this morning.

“You okay, sweetheart, you look a little warm?” He said as he crouched down to get a better look at your face. He brings up a gentle hand to rest on your cheek and the gentle touch has you biting back a whine. Recognition flashes across his face, the small shift sending the scent of your arousal straight to him. “Does seeing us train turn you on, sweet girl?” He teases and it takes every ounce of your willpower to not jump him right there at the tone in his voice. That sweet voice with a slight bite in it turns your knees to jelly every single time. You find it in yourself to nod and he turns his head back to Nesta. She raised an eyebrow at him and he leaned back in to whisper into your ear. “Why don’t you show our mate how much you like it?” You blushed and caught Nesta’s eyes before sending all of the need down the bond. You're rewarded with her intake of breath and that pretty pink creeping up her high cheekbones. She stalks over to Cassian and I and offers me a hand. Nearly stumble over myself trying to grab it, the action causing Nesta to give a small laugh. Your blush intensifies as Nesta hauls me to my feet. Your mouth dries out when you notice how close her face is to yours. When you try to angle your head to join your lips, she wraps a hand into your hair, holding you still. She runs her nose over your jaw line and down your neck. The touch pulling a pitiful whine from your lips.

“She does feel a little warm Cas.” She pulls away from you, leaving you cold as a shiver runs down your spine. “Maybe we should bring her inside.” Your stomach flips at the suggestive tone of her voice and Cassian’s wings flare out slightly as he catches onto her meaning. He’s practically pulling you back to the house, Nesta and you laughing together at his urgency.

Nesta’s lips are on yours the second the door is closed, my back pressed against the hall. You suck down her strawberry and mint taste until you're panting against her. Your hands wind into her braid and she nips at my bottom lip, asking for permission. You don’t hesitate to let her tongue lick into my mouth, moaning at the contact and she bites your lips again for good measure. When she goes to pull away, you use your grip in her hair to pull her face back to yours. Cassian clears his throat from the other side of the room, “Nes' ' was all he said and Nesta was unwinding your hands from her hair and walking over to him, leaving you breathless against the door. He pulled her onto his lap and brought his lips to hers. The kiss heated up and you saw Cassian's grip move down to her hip and started rocking Nesta against his thigh. You moaned almost at the same time she did and the pair broke apart. Nesta gave you a wicked smile and hopped off Cassian's lap only to start pulling off her training clothes. Inch by inch her gorgeous skin was revealed to you and all you could do was remain stuck to that stupid door, legs refusing to move.

“Come here bunny.” Cassian cooed at you and it was like he put you under a spell, feet finally moving you in the direction you wanted. Nesta came up behind you and you stood in front of Cassian and teased at the hem of your shirt, asking permission to take it off. You nodded, whimpering out a small “please”.

“Arms up” she said and you obliged, the material feeling too rough as it trailed up your heated skin. Cassian’a eyes darkened as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra and your breasts were on full display. Nesta made a soft ticking noise before her hands were wrapping around your front, hands going to teasingly play with your hardened nipples. It was only her contact at your back that stopped you from melting to the floor. Her mouth trailing open kisses along your shoulder and deft fingers tweaking your nipples. Your head leaned back onto her shoulder as you cried out. You could vaguely hear Cassian shuffling out of his own clothes, the various buckles of his leathers clanking as he threw them somewhere in the room. He gently pulled you out of Nestas hold, the female behind you making a displeased noise.

Cassian laid you on your back and started to pull your pants along with your panties off in one swift motion. You gasped softly as the cold air of the room hit your soaked core. Cassian and Nesta smirked at each other when they saw the slight shine of your arousal on your thighs. “We barely touched you and you’re already soaked.” Nesta teased but the words were lost because at the same time Cassian had swiped a large finger up your folds. He pulled away, fingers glistening and you felt your face heat up. He brought his fingers up to your mouth and you gladly took them between your lips. The make above you groaning as you swirl your tongue along the digits. You sucked hard and he pulled his fingers out with a popping sound, a long string of spit coming off his fingers. Nesta pulls Cassian in for another kiss, you can’t look away from the heated moment and Cassian goes to wrap his arm around Nesta before she pulls away. She climbs into you hips, thighs straddling yours and squeezes your cheeks. You instantly open your mouth and she spits on your tongue. You can taste her and Cassian, mixed with the linger taste of your own arousal and your core clenches. She closes your mouth gently and watches with a primal look in her eyes as you swallow, sticking your tongue out to show her. She pats your cheek gently, “good girl.” She praises and you smile dumbly at her.

The groan you hear from besides you has your eyes moving over to Cassian. His hand wrapped around his hardened length.

You tap Nestas legs and she climbs off of you. Sliding off the bed, you take the few steps it takes to stand in front of Cassian. He leans back onto his arms, stopping the motion of his hand, as you sink to your knees. His hands are sweeping your hair off your shoulder before he’s even in your mouth. Giving a light pull so your chin is tilted up. You’re eye level with his throbbing cock and you let out a whine at not being able to have him in your mouth. “Want it that bad?” Cassian growls out, you nod as best as you can with his grip on your hair. He lets out a heavy breath and flexes his hips, letting you know you can get started. And that you do.

You instantly take him half way down your throat, the sudden contact making him yelp which turns into a throaty moan. What you can’t take in your mouth, your hands are stroking. Following behind your mouth as you take him deeper each time. Head bobbing up and down at the fast pace he likes. “Look at my sweet little Bunny, you look so good with my cock in your mouth.” He says between grunts. You hum at the praise and are rewarded with the buck of his hips. Hands still in your hair, he uses it to pull you off of him, the question in his eyes. All you do is take him in your mouth again, letting him rest on your tongue. That’s all it takes for him to start thrusting into your mouth. Harsh thrust that pulls pretty gags from your throat. Your nose touches those toned abs and he holds you there just long enough for tears to prick in the corners of your eyes before he pulls you all the way off. You’re panting and going to lean back to him but he stops you. “I think we’ve left out our other mate. Why don’t you go make it up to her?”

You look over to Nesta and are met with the sight of her rubbing slow circles on her clit. Her eyes lock on yours and that’s all it takes for you to raise off your knees and join her again on the bed. Crawling over to her, you lightly swat away her hand and replace it with your own. Copying her slow pace. She squirms under your touch and moans softly. You speed up your movements. “Need… need more” she moaned. You’re rewarded with her pretty scream as you sink two fingers into her, fingers already brushing that sweet spot inside of her. You’re so distracted by her pretty noises that you don’t realize Cassian coming up behind you. It takes every bit of concentration not to stop your fingers as Cassian lifts you up and crawls under you, placing your dripping core over his face. You give Nesta a particularly hard thrust as Cassian licks a long stripe up your cunt. Arching into his face, he wraps his hands around your thighs and licks lazily up and down.

Nesta’s and your moans fill the room as you slip another finger inside of her, moving faster still. Her hips buck to meet your hand and you know she’s close. Smirking to yourself at her blissed out face. You pull your fingers out and resume the tight circles on her clit. She hisses slightly at the sudden change, eyes fluttering open. Her mouth hangs open as she moans a garbled version of your name. Small shakes rack through her as she grips onto your wrist. Her orgasm barreling through her and your hands don’t stop as you work her through it. She falls back against the mattress with a content smile on her face.

Cassian really starts on you once he realizes Nestas finished. He pulls you even tighter against his face and thrusts his tongue inside of you. Your back arches and your hands shoot out into the sheets to steady yourself. Nesta still laid back on the mattress, eyes now watching you ride Cassian's face. Your moans raise in pitch and she pulls herself off the mattress. Kneeling in front of you, she pulls you in for a searing kiss. Capturing every moan Cassian pulls from you, she greedily swallows them down. Her hands land on your breasts again and start to kneed at the soft flesh. Cassian scrapes his teeth lightly over your clit and that’s all it takes for your own orgasm to rip through you. Hips bucking against his face as Nesta sinks her teeth into your lip, muffling the scream that tears out of your throat. You sag against her and Cassian slips out from under you. Once your breathing has settled slightly, you look back at Cassian. His face and chin coated with your release. “Nes, you go first.” You offer and she’s smirking as she crawls over to Cassian.

A rough hand on his shoulder pushes him to his back and she’s already sinking down onto him. He roars once she’s fully seated against him and when he goes to grab her hips, she playfully swats his hands away. Instead she places her hands on his chest and uses the leverage to grind against him. His hands knot into the sheets and you can only watch the place where they’re connected. Cassian's thick length slipping into and out of her, that creamy ring at the base from Nesta’s previous release. It’s enough to make you moan. The sound only makes Nesta’s hips speed up. She finally lets him grip her hips and he starts to meet her thrusts. High pitched whines leave Nesta’s mouth as a string of curses falls from Cassian’s. You can’t stop the hand that trails down your stomach, skin itching with need. You don’t even bother to pause as you thrust a finger into yourself. Biting your lip to stop the loud cry the action pulls from your mouth.

The pair looking over at you, eyes hazy with lust. Nesta gives Cassian a few more long strokes, slowly raising and lowering herself before she pulls off of him. “We can’t leave our needy girl out of this,” She winks at you, “As much as she does love watching me fuck you silly.” You whimper at her words. Both of them turn their attention back to you. Cassian pulls your hand away from your aching hole, ignoring your whine. He’s pushing you down to your back and Nesta is already climbing up to your head. Your hands find her thighs and help her get situated as she lowers herself onto your waiting tongue. You groan at the taste of her. Your hand gliding up to her clit as you fuck her with your tongue.

Cassian’s fingers slip into you and the moan you release into Nesta has her cursing above you. Grinding harder onto your face. Once Cassian has stretched you out enough, he withdrawals his fingers and you feel his thighs brush against yours. You part your legs wider, silently begging him to fill you. He pushes in achingly slow, inch by inch to let you adjust. His hands wrap under your knees to push them up to your chest.

You can do nothing but cry out as Cassian starts to plow into you. Hips digging deliciously into your thighs and you feel tears start to roll down your face. Mind already numb to anything but your mates over you. Blood is drumming against your ears, you would be surprised if the others couldn’t hear your frantic heartbeat as the three of you work to get each other off. Nesta finishes first but you pull her back down, holding her hips to your face, your tongue not stopping. She twitches against you, head thrown back in a silent moan. Her hands twist themselves into your hair and the painful sting on your scalp as she pulls only spurs you on. She moans out, “Please, don’t stop.” So you don’t.

Cassian’s harsh thrusts are sending you over the edge before you can even process it. His own cries are muffled by Nesta’s thighs. His thrusts get deeper, pulling out less and less until he’s bucking his hips against yours. Grinding deep into you. Nesta and you come for a second time together. When she rides out her bliss, she’s tapping on your shoulder, signaling you to let her up. You can finally hear Cassian’s moans. He’s loud enough to shake the paintings on the walls. Grunting and panting, followed by strings of curses. “Such a perfect little cunt. You take me so well, take both your mates so well…Fuck. I love you. Both of you.” His hips stutter a little and you can tell he’s close. You see Nesta’s hands go to stroke that tender spot on his wings and that’s all it takes for him to fill you up. He pulls out, his seed leaking onto your thigh. You have to push Nesta away from your leaking hole as she swipes her tongue through your folds. Too worn out to have her mouth on you.

The three of you lay panting on the bed. Limbs tangled around each other as you all bask in your post-orgasmic bliss. Cassian eventually pulls away from the bed to run a bath for all of you. Your tub almost has its own room to be able to fit all three of you, including Cassian’s wings. Both you and Nesta are wrapped in a tender kiss and Cassian joins you back on the bed, he tucks both of you onto his chest. The three of you drift off to sleep wrapped in each other. Bath completely forgotten.

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razorblade180 · 3 months ago

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Inspiration

Ruby:Yo-yo?

Carmine:Hmm?

Ruby:Ren told me you paid a visit to him for some training. Said you did pretty good.

Carmine:Not really. Stances were okay but aura manipulation is weird. Probably won’t rely on it too much.

Ruby:Seems like you’re drawing inspiration from everyone you can. If that the case, I have something for you.

The reapers reveals a long weapon’s case. She puts in the ground in front of her daughter and taps it with her foot, causing it to open up. Two curved blades lay brightly inside. Their detail is so intricate in the engravings and design. It’s obvious they’re meant to combine. Carmine picks them up to find they have little heft to them but are drastically lighter than her own sword. She might as well be holding nothing.

Carmine:Wow, these are crazy looking. Not necessarily my style but I can see how they could be useful.

Ruby:They’re what Cinder uses.

Carmine:…….What? How did y-

Ruby:These are replicas I made and trust me when I say they’re identical. If you put them together then it can fire arrows.

Carmine:Why would you ever make these?

Ruby:Because, my little huntress, I can be as petty and spiteful as anyone else when pushed far enough. Use these on patrol and missions for the next month; study them well. Utility, movement, reach, all that you can.

Carmine:“Know thy enemy” right? I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this from you considering our differing views on how to handle the situation.

Ruby:I made a vow to you the day you were born that I will be a mom before a huntress when it came to making sure my family was safe. I still plan on finding and taking out Cinder myself, but if for some reason you find her first or she finds you, then by all means, give her every layer of hell you can.

Carmine:I don’t suppose you’ve made me a parasol blade too?

Ruby:If only that’s all it took to learn Neo’s moves. I mean this, just avoid her. She’s at least a three person job and two of them need to hate her.

Carmine:Heh, okay then. Mind if we go a few rounds then?

Ruby:…It’s better if you ask Ren?

Carmine:C’mon. I know you don’t like training me but-

Ruby:No, it not that. I just…I might go too hard if you’re using those.

Carmine:So? Honestly you’d be doing me a favor. Everyone always talks about how intense you can get, all the stories of your passion and hardcore moments. I don’t get to see that. I actually feel weird for never seeing you angry. I get angry all the time!

Ruby:Sweetie, what kind of a parent would I be if I took out repressed rage on my child in a sparring match?

Carmine:…Better than Raven. Better than your mom too.

Ruby:!? Wha-

Carmine:I think you’re pretty cool, despite everything that’s happened. We always try to our feelings out but honestly it never really works well. I get you’re trying to be an example, but it’s okay if normal being a mom doesn’t come as naturally as a huntress. Mix both. I don’t care. I kinda need both. I mean if I can survive you then Cinder would be easier by comparison. Plus…it’s not like I could stop myself from swinging at you seriously either.

Ruby:Did you..are you saying I piss you off?

Carmine:You’re my mom. Every daughter gets pissed at their mom.

Ruby:That’s not…inaccurate. Sigh Are we really doing this?

Carmine:Are my eyes silver? *points blade out* Well, Mrs. Hero? Show me why Cinder is too chicken face you head on!

Ruby:Fine, but name a restaurant first. You may think I prefer being huntsman 24/7 but I’d like to have some regular quality time with my daughter after this.

Carmine:Hmmm, how about your home cooking?

Ruby:…*smiles* Deal.

#rwby #rwby au #ruby rose #carmine arc rose #rwbabies #rwby rosebud

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imawreck · 4 months ago

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Lean On Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky notices you’ve been struggling recently, and he can’t help but try and make you feel better.

Author’s Note: I have not dealt with depression myself, but I have been around many who have. I tried to write this story based on some of the ways they have described the feeling to be in order to make it as accurate as I could. This is for the lovely individual who reached out to me for a request! I hope this gives you the comfort you need, and I send all my best wishes to you <3

Warnings: This fic deals with depression, so if that is a triggering topic for you please be wary and read with caution. Also like one use of y/n.

Word Count: 1,975

It was happening again.

That sinking, hollow feeling had begun to creep into your chest and draw open the doors in your mind that hid all those viscous thoughts you desperately tried to escape.

The self loathing, guilt, and the constant sorrow that seemed to follow you with no cause at all.

And Bucky could tell.

It was in the way you had gone from holding yourself tall while walking through the halls or talking to the team members. It was in the way your voice didn’t carry as happily, choosing to make yourself known less and less. He had watched your shoulders cave inwards and your head bow instead as you shuffled around the tower in the recent weeks or even chose to stay in your room all day.

He knew something was wrong.

Bucky had been your friend ever since you had joined the team. He had been taken with you from the start, drawn to your kindness and your down to earth attitude. You were a splash of color in his otherwise dull and colorless life.

It had taken him a while to gather the courage to talk to you that first time in the training area, to walk up to your confident form and smiling face and attempt to introduce himself without scaring you away. It had been easier than he’d thought. You had smiled at him, showed him equal kindness despite his rather bleak and bloody past, and even continued to seek him out for talks in your free time.

He had grown rather accustomed to you. Gravitated around you, even.

So when you’d started to dull, the brightness fading from your smile and the life in your eyes dimming, he had to do something about it.

He rapped his metal knuckles on your door, his ears listening intently for your melodic voice to beckon him inside. When it doesn’t, he eases the door open a crack, keeping his eyes on the floor just in case you’re indecent.

“Y/N?” His hushed voice calls into the room, and he hears a rustle and a concerning sniffle in return. It spurs him to open the door wider, “Can I come in, Doll?”

There’s a moment of silence before he hears the covers of your bed shift and your soft voice call to him, “Come in.”

He shuffles inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. It takes him a moment to adjust to your dark room, blinking several times before he’s able to take in the outline of your small form on the bed.

You sit against the headboard, knees pulled to your chest and eyes downcast. This wasn’t normal behavior for you, especially when he’d come to visit you. Normally, you’d have yanked the door open and welcomed him with one of your famous hugs. He’d swing you around like he always did, and he’d soak in that wonderful little laugh you’d let out.

But this, this sent alarm bells off in his head and made his heart squeeze anxiously. “Hey, dollface,” he kept his voice low, soothing. “I didn’t see you at dinner and everyone was wondering if you were sick or something. Wanted to come check on you.”

Bucky eased himself onto the side of the bed, his weight dipping the bed slightly. You kept your eyes down, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. It wasn’t something you did often, and Bucky picked up on it pretty fast.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, “No, I’m not sick. I just felt tired, that’s all.”

He knew it was a lie, at least partially. He could faintly see the dark circles under your eyes in the dim light streaming in from your window. He might’ve missed it if the moon hadn’t been out.

“Doll,” he frowned, giving you that ‘we both know that’s bullshit’ look, “you can’t lie to me.”

You knew he was right, knew your pathetic excuse was as see through as glass. Bucky could read you like a book, knew you better than anyone else did. Even when you had first met, he could tell when your mood would change the slightest bit. He was just that in tune to you.

Bucky watched as you worried your lip some more, and tears began to well in your eyes. It broke his heart to see you like this, to see you struggle to talk to him, to trust him with whatever was making you wither like this.

He wanted to reach out to you, to comfort you any way he could, but he needed you to come to him. He didn’t want to push you, to accidentally make you feel trapped.

The next words you spoke made his heart shatter.

“I don’t want you to think I’m weak.”

You had mumbled it, barely above a whisper, but he could hear the tremble of your voice. The fear in your tone, like you were afraid that just speaking it would shatter you.

Bucky thought the world of you. You were smart, kind, selfless. Always helping him and the others, always being someone they could all trust and talk to freely. But you had always been especially kind to Bucky. You always understood when he needed space, or knew how to comfort him best when he was having one of those darker days. You knew about his nightmares, helped him through them even. You were his rock when he felt his world would crash down in the blink of an eye, always bringing him back from the edge.

And Bucky had realized that even though you were always there for the others, you had never truly asked to talk about your own issues. You’d never let on when something was wrong or asked for help.

With his heart tearing in his chest, he threw caution to the wind. His arms circled around you, pulling your curled form into his lap. “Doll, I have never— could never—think you were weak.”

You buried your head in his neck, clenching your teeth to try and keep the tears from falling. “But I am, Bucky. I’m weak and useless, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, threatening to burst. He had never felt this kind of torment before. Not even when he had been in the clutches of Hydra.

“Hey— hey. You are the strongest person I have ever known. Even stronger than Stevie.” He couldn’t bare to hear you talk about yourself like this, to see you so low.

Bucky pulled you tighter against him, curling his metal arm around you to press you closer to his chest. Maybe, if he held you close enough, he could protect you from whatever dark thoughts had taken hold of you. “Talk to me, Babydoll, please. Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head.”

You didn’t want to confess to him, didn’t want anyone to know about your struggling. It was yours to handle, your own responsibility to deal with, not anyone else’s.

But as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, your resolve began to crumble. Tears began to leak from your eyes, soaking the neckline of his sweatshirt. Your chest felt tight as you muffled the sobs wracking your body.

Bucky felt all of this, the tremble of your body, the dampness collecting on his clothes from your tears, and just held you tighter. Any more, and he might crush you.

“I struggle with depression.”

There, it was out there. He knew, and now he’d think less of you. He’d treat you differently like everyone else always did, and eventually it would be too much for him.

You tensed up, preparing for whatever words came out of him. For his pity or a lecture like most gave you. To tell you it’s all in your head.

Instead, Bucky’s flesh hand began rubbing your back. The gentle motions soothed the tension in your spine, comforting you without words.

His soft lips pressed against your temple, and he mumbled into your hair, “Have you ever thought less of be because of the things I struggle with? My nightmares, fears, all of that?”

You frowned against his neck, sniffling and shaking your head. “No, I haven’t. Not ever.”

“Then why would I think you were weak just because you struggle sometimes with how you feel?” He asked, still gently rubbing your back.

“Because you have a reason, Bucky. You were tortured for decades.” You mumble, another rush of tears following the tightness in your chest at the thought. “I haven’t suffered like that, there’s no reason for me to feel this way.”

“Just because you haven’t been through something traumatic doesn’t make how you feel or your struggles less important.” Bucky pulled away from you just enough to hold your eyes, “Feelings are hard, Doll, for everyone. Avenger, or not. Hero, or not. Everyone struggles with something. It doesn’t make them weak, or lessen their value as a person. It just makes them human.”

At his words, the final walls you’d put up came crashing down. Sobs wracked your body, and the tears streamed down your face. Bucky let you cling to him, let you cry as he placed gentle kisses to your temple and held you tightly.

After a while, your tears subsided and your sobs had dwindled to an occasional sniffle. Still, he held you close.

“I want you to know,” he said softly, “that you are important to this team, to all of us. To me.” The cool fingers of his metal hand gently nudged your chin, beckoning you out of the juncture of his shoulder. “I want you to know that I don’t think less of you, that my opinion of you hasn’t changed a bit. And I want you to know that you’re not alone, Doll, that you’re never alone. That I will always be here for you. No matter what.”

There was no doubt on his face as he said it, and he held your gaze as he brushed a gentle thumb across your chin. “This team loves you, and they think the world of you. I know that each of them would tell you exactly that. I know that they wouldn’t want you to suffer all by yourself. You let us all share our problems with you, so share this with us. Let us help you.”

His brows pinched as his voice got a little quieter, leaning his forehead against yours. “Or at least let me help you, if you’re not ready for that yet.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and a fresh wave of tears welled up. But it was a good kind, the relieved kind. “Okay,” you whispered, “okay.”

He smiled then, a small encouraging one. A little blush appearing on his cheeks, “I love you.”

Your eyes widened, and you blinked up at him. “What?”

“I love you, Doll.”

You knew he did and he knew you did too and had for a while. Neither or you had said it though, stuck in some sort of limbo.

To hear him say it, even after what you had confessed, lifted your heart a bit more.

You knew that your struggle was going to be hard, and that it would have its ups and downs. Some days would be worse, and some would be better. Bucky knew that feeling better than anyone, you realized.

You smiled then, that beautiful bright one that was near blinding. The one Bucky loved the most.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

He kissed you then, soft and gentle, with the fingers of his flesh hand curled into your hair. You knew then and there that Bucky would always have your back. That you could always trust and confide in him without judgment.

And you knew that you’d be okay.

—————

Authors Note:

For those of you who struggle with depression, please know that you are never alone. You are loved and cared for and valued, no matter what. No struggle is less than another, no matter what you come from or what experiences you’ve had or haven’t had. <3

— Ayden

#depression #angst #marvel #hurt/comfort #fluff #bucky barnes #winter soldier #mcu #fanfic #x reader

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s4svnn · 23 days ago

Text

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Sixteen

The hours passed more quickly than I anticipated, and as I lounged on Jungkook’s oversized couch, I found myself grudgingly admitting that staying at his house wasn’t as bad as I’d initially thought. Sure, the circumstances weren’t ideal, but his place was a hundred times better than my cramped apartment. The space was immaculate, filled with high-end furniture, and equipped with every comfort you could imagine.

And the quiet. God, the quiet was a luxury. No neighbors yelling through thin walls, no leaky faucets dripping incessantly. Just peace.

Jungkook had left earlier to attend a meeting, leaving me to my own devices—or, more accurately, to the iPad he’d handed me with a casual, “Use this for whatever you need.” Since all of my own electronics other than my phone were still at my apartment, it was a lifesaver.

I’d decided to spend the afternoon catching up on some design work. The iPad was surprisingly intuitive, and once I got into the zone, I completely lost track of time. Sketching and colouring ideas for upcoming projects became all-consuming, the stylus gliding effortlessly across the screen. I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I didn’t hear the front door open, nor the faint footsteps approaching.

“Miss Banks?”

The deep, unfamiliar voice startled me so badly that I nearly dropped the iPad. I whipped around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing a few feet away. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, a tiny earpiece nestled in his ear. His neatly styled hair and calm demeanour screamed professionalism.

“Who—” I began, my voice shaky.

“I’m Ace,” he said quickly, holding up his hands as if to show he meant no harm. “One of Mr. Jeon’s security detail. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh,” I said, blinking. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Ace gave a small smile. “That tends to happen. We’re trained to move quietly.”

I relaxed slightly, setting the iPad down on the coffee table. “Right. Well is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, his tone polite. “Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable while Mr Jeon’s out. Is there anything you need? Food? Water? Anything at all?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. But, uh, thanks for checking.”

Ace nodded but didn’t leave right away. Instead, his expression softened slightly, and he tilted his head as he looked at the screen. “You’re an artist?”

“Something like that,” I replied, surprised by his interest.

“That’s impressive,” he said, his tone genuine. “I can’t even draw a straight line.”

I laughed despite myself. “It’s not as hard as it looks. You just need practice.”

“Trust me,” he said, grinning. “I’ve tried. Stick figures are about as far as I get.”

I chuckled, the tension easing between us. Ace had an easygoing way about him, and it wasn’t long before we were joking and laughing like old friends. He told me a story about how he once mistook Jungkook’s delivery guy for a potential threat and ended up accidentally tackling him in the driveway.

By the time we were both laughing uncontrollably, I’d almost forgotten where I was.

“What’s so funny?”

The low, familiar voice cut through the laughter like a knife. I looked up, startled, to see Jungkook standing in the doorway. His sharp eyes flicked between me and Ace, his expression unreadable but tense.

Ace immediately straightened, his amusement vanishing as if it had never existed. “Mr. Jeon,” he said respectfully, inclining his head.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, his tone calm but laced with authority.

“I was just checking if—”

“Go do your job,” Jungkook interrupted, his gaze hard.

Ace hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Of course. My apologies.”

With a quick glance at me, he turned and left the room. The atmosphere shifted the moment the door closed behind him.

I glared at Jungkook. “What was that about?”

He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“You didn’t have to be so rude to him!” I snapped. “He was just being nice.”

Jungkook’s gaze narrowed. “He’s not here to keep you entertained. He’s here to do his job.”

“Oh, so now I’m not allowed to talk to anyone?” I asked, standing up and planting my hands on my hips. “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” he said, his voice sharp.

“Oh my god.”

“What.”

I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Are you jealous?”

He scoffed, his eyes widening slightly. “Jealous? Don’t flatter yourself.”

I took a step closer, my smirk growing. “You are. It’s written all over your face.”

“You’re imagining things,” he said defensively, his arms dropping to his sides.

“Am I?” I teased, enjoying the way his composure seemed to crack.

Jungkook didn’t reply, but the way his jaw clenched gave him away. I laughed, shaking my head as I grabbed the iPad from the table.

“Alright, Mr. Not-Jealous,” I said, turning back to him. “I think we should add a few more rules to your precious list.”

His brows furrowed, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “What kind of rules?”

“First,” I began, holding up a finger, “you’re not allowed to touch me. No more surprise kisses, no leaning into my space—none of that.”

His expression darkened. “What—”

“Second,” I continued, ignoring his protest, “you can’t boss me around unless it’s life-or-death. I don’t care if you’re used to everyone jumping when you say so.”

“This is my house—”

“Third,” I cut him off, “if I catch you being rude to your staff again, I’m calling you out on it. Every single time.”

He stared at me, his frustration growing by the second.

“Fourth,” I added, “no more walking around shirtless.”

“Why the hell not?” he demanded.

“Because it’s distracting,” I said simply, grinning at the way his ears turned red.

“Fifth,” I concluded, “you’re not allowed to break any of my rules.”

Jungkook glared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “No.”

“No?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not agreeing to any of that,” he said stubbornly.

“Suit yourself,” I said with a shrug, turning back to the iPad. “If you don’t follow my rules then I’m sure as hell not following yours.”

His exasperated groan followed me as I sat back down. I couldn’t help the smug smile that crept across my face in having succeeded in getting a reaction out of him.

As I sank back onto the couch, iPad in hand, I tried to pretend Jungkook wasn’t looming nearby like a storm cloud waiting to unleash its fury. His glare was practically searing into the side of my head, heavy and relentless, but I kept my eyes glued to the lines of the design I was perfecting.

For a moment, I thought he’d finally get the hint and stalk off to brood somewhere else. But, of course, that would’ve been too easy. Jungkook wasn’t the type to let things go.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” His voice cut through the quiet, sharp and tinged with irritation.

I sighed, finally looking up at him. He stood in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes locked on mine with a challenge I didn’t care to entertain. “What are you talking about now?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “The rules. This whole list of yours.You’re trying to make this difficult on purpose.”

I leaned back against the couch cushions, folding my arms. “I’m just setting boundaries, Jungkook. Isn’t that what peaceful cohabitation is all about?”

“Boundaries,” he scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “You mean a bunch of ridiculous rules designed to make my life miserable.”

“Your life isn’t miserable,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “You live in a mansion, drive cars that cost more than my entire existence, and have people at your beck and call. Forgive me if I don’t feel sorry for you.”

His jaw ticked, but instead of firing back, he leaned forward, bringing his face uncomfortably close to mine. His dark eyes locked onto mine with a heat that made my pulse flutter despite my best efforts to remain unaffected. “You don’t know the first thing about my life,” he said, his tone low and challenging.

I swallowed hard, willing myself not to react to the magnetic pull of his presence. “You’re right,” I said evenly. “I don’t. But I do know one thing—you’re not going to intimidate me into getting rid of my rules.”

A flicker of something—frustration, amusement, or both—passed across his face. His lips twitched like he wanted to argue, but instead, he straightened up and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back a fraction. “Keep your stupid rules. Let’s see how long you last before you break one.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion blooming. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He smirked, the arrogance in his expression making my blood boil. “Just don’t come crying to me when you realise how hard it is to resist.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

But before I could fire back, he turned on his heel and strode toward the hallway, his broad shoulders radiating smug satisfaction.

“Resist!” I called after him, my voice incredulous. “You’re the one who can’t seem to keep his hands—or lips—off me!”

He didn’t even pause, disappearing around the corner without another word.

I sat there fuming, his words playing on an infuriating loop in my mind. The audacity of him to suggest that I’d be the one to slip up first. If anything, he was the one who couldn’t seem to keep his distance. Wasn’t that what this whole argument was about? His inability to just let me exist without interfering or—God forbid—touching me?

The thought lingered longer than I wanted it to, sparking an unwelcome warmth in my cheeks. I shoved it away and focused back on my designs, channeling all my frustration into the crisp lines and bold ideas taking shape on the screen.

But no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, Jungkook’s words—and the way he’d said them—continued to linger in my mind. Every sharp smirk, every heated look, every infuriating, arrogant word echoed in my thoughts.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After several hours hunched over my iPad, sketching and re-sketching, exhaustion began to creep into my body. The ache in my shoulders and the slight burning in my eyes were enough to make me set the device aside with a frustrated sigh. The couch had been comfortable at first, but the position I’d sunk into for so long was now wreaking havoc on my back and neck. I let my head fall back against the cushions, closing my eyes for a moment to reset.

Without meaning to, I drifted off into a nap.

When I woke up, it wasn’t the peaceful kind of rest I’d hoped for. My neck felt stiff, my shoulders tense, and my lower back throbbed faintly from the awkward position I’d apparently curled into. Groaning, I pushed myself upright and rubbed the back of my neck, grimacing at the soreness. Stretching my arms above my head, I leaned to one side and then the other, small pops emanating from my joints as I tried to shake off the discomfort.

Despite the stretches, the tension in my muscles didn’t completely fade. I needed to move, to get my body into motion and loosen up. Jungkook’s house was massive, far bigger than any space I’d ever lived in, so there was plenty of room for walking around without feeling confined. My gaze flicked toward the closed door leading to his room.

He was probably still in there, which meant I could roam around freely without worrying about his rules. Sure, exploring the house had technically made it onto his ridiculous list of rules, but what harm could it really do if I stuck to the downstairs? It wasn’t like I was rifling through his things or prying into his life. I just needed to stretch.

I stood and padded toward the hallway, passing through the wide archway that led out of the living room. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that made you hyperaware of every small sound. My bare feet barely made a noise on the smooth, polished floors as I wandered into what I quickly realised was the dining room.

It was grand, far more impressive than anything I’d ever seen in person. A long, polished oak table dominated the room, surrounded by at least ten high-backed chairs upholstered in a rich navy-blue fabric. A glittering crystal chandelier hung overhead, catching the faint light from the wall sconces and casting tiny, dancing reflections onto the tabletop below. Along one wall, there was a built-in sideboard with shelves and cabinets that displayed ornate silverware, china, and glassware that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than an actual home.

The room exuded a sense of elegance, but there was something impersonal about it, as if it had been designed for appearances rather than comfort. I couldn’t imagine Jungkook actually sitting here for meals unless he was hosting one of those elaborate, high-society dinner parties you saw in movies.

Curious, I continued down the hall, eventually stumbling into another space that immediately caught my attention: the wine bar.

It was smaller and cozier than the dining room, but no less impressive. Dark mahogany shelves lined the walls, each one holding an array of wine bottles arranged by region and vintage. The sheer number of labels was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the level of organisation and curation. A marble-topped bar sat in the center of the room, complete with high stools and a glass rack hanging overhead. Everything gleamed under the soft ambient lighting, giving the space an air of understated sophistication.

This room felt more personal, like a place Jungkook might actually use. I could imagine him sitting here late at night, nursing a glass of something expensive as he brooded over whatever it was that occupied his enigmatic mind.

I lingered for a moment, running my fingers along the cool marble surface of the bar before deciding to move on. I walked past the formal sitting room, which looked pristine and untouched, as if no one had ever dared to sit on the perfectly arranged furniture. The entryway with its grand staircase and towering ceilings made me pause briefly, but I resisted the urge to head upstairs. Exploring the second floor felt like crossing a line I wasn’t ready to breach just yet.

Eventually, I found my way to the garden.

The cool night air hit me the moment I stepped outside, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of freshly watered plants. The garden was expansive, with stone pathways winding through perfectly manicured hedges and clusters of vibrant flowers. Low garden lights illuminated the space, casting a soft glow that accentuated the natural beauty of the foliage.

I tipped my head back to look at the sky, which stretched endlessly above me. The stars were scattered like tiny diamonds across a velvet-black canvas, their light faint but steady. The moon hung low and full, its silvery glow bathing the garden in a soft, ethereal light. It was breathtaking, the kind of tranquil beauty that made you forget about your troubles, even if only for a moment.

As I wandered, something unusual caught my eye near the edge of the patio. A large, round shape sat beneath a gray waterproof sheet, tucked into a corner as if trying to blend in with its surroundings. Intrigued, I made my way over and carefully lifted the edge of the sheet.

My curiosity quickly turned to delight as the sleek surface of a jacuzzi came into view. It was larger than I expected, with built-in jets arranged around the edges and a control panel that hinted at customisable settings. The polished metal and acrylic exterior gleamed faintly under the moonlight, and I couldn’t help but grin at the discovery.

The idea of sinking into warm, bubbling water was beyond tempting, especially with how stiff and sore my body felt. For a moment, I hesitated, glancing back toward the house. Would Jungkook care if I used it? Probably. But then again, this was his fault. If he hadn’t been so insufferable earlier, I wouldn’t be walking around with my muscles in knots.

Decision made, I headed back inside to prepare.

Once at the wine bar, I quickly stripped out of my clothes, folding them neatly into a pile and setting them on the countertop. The cool air against my skin sent a small shiver down my spine, but the promise of the jacuzzi’s warmth kept me from second-guessing. I grabbed a towel from the bar’s storage unit and made my way back outside.

Dipping a toe into the water, I sighed in relief at the perfect temperature. It was warm enough to soothe every ache and pain without being overwhelming. Without wasting another second, I slid into the jacuzzi, the bubbling water enveloping me like a comforting embrace.

I leaned back, resting my neck against the edge of the tub as the jets worked their magic on my tense muscles. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax completely, the stress of the day melting away with each passing moment. For the first time since arriving at Jungkook’s house, I felt truly at peace.

But unfortunately for me the peace didn’t last long. After about ten blissful minutes of soaking in the jacuzzi’s bubbling warmth, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the serene stillness of the garden. My body tensed instinctively, the quiet invaded by the firm, deliberate sound of someone walking toward me. Reluctantly, I lifted my head to lock eyes with the last person I wanted to see.

Jungkook stood at the edge of the jacuzzi, arms crossed over his chest, his posture as rigid as the glare he was directing my way. The soft garden lights illuminated the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the dark intensity in his eyes. He didn’t look amused, though there was a faint hint of something—curiosity, perhaps—lingering in his expression.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with that signature irritation I was starting to recognise.

I tilted my head lazily and leaned back against the edge of the jacuzzi, pretending to be unfazed. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m soaking in this luxurious jacuzzi you conveniently left outside for all to enjoy.” I paused for dramatic effect, my tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Lovely placement, by the way.”

His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing like he was physically restraining himself from saying something harsher. “I told you not to wander around the house.”

“And I didn’t wander,” I said matter-of-factly, letting my hand glide lazily through the water. “I was stretching because I woke up with every muscle in my body screaming in pain. It’s not my fault I happened to stumble across this oasis in your maze of a mansion. Should I have sent a memo first?”

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” he said firmly, ignoring my attempt at humor. “Rules are rules.”

“Oh, please,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Don’t act like those rules of yours are gospel. They’re just a way for you to micromanage me, and honestly, they’re not doing much for my aching muscles, Jungkook. So excuse me if I decided to prioritise my physical well-being over your fragile sense of control.”

His eyes narrowed at that, his posture stiffening further. “Fragile sense of control?” he repeated, his tone dangerously calm.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said,” I replied, refusing to back down. “Honestly, what’s the big deal? I’m just using the jacuzzi. It’s not like I’m hosting a rave in your precious garden.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion frustrated and slow. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” I challenged, folding my arms across my chest. “Enlighten me, Jungkook. What exactly is so wrong about me sitting here, minding my own business, and trying to loosen up a few knots in my back?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on me, dark and unreadable, and I could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. Finally, with a long, exasperated sigh, he threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fine,” he muttered, stepping back slightly. “Do whatever you want. Just...don’t drown or something.”

“Wow, such concern,” I said dryly, reclining back against the edge once more. “Don’t worry, Jungkook, I promise I won’t disrupt your carefully curated bachelor lifestyle by doing something as inconvenient as dying in your jacuzzi.”

He shot me a look, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead, he shook his head and turned to leave. “Five minutes,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Then get out.”

“Sure thing, Your Majesty,” I said under my breath, closing my eyes again and letting myself sink back into the water.

For a brief moment, I actually thought I was in the clear. The garden fell silent again, the soft hum of the jacuzzi and the faint rustle of the night breeze lulling me into a rare sense of calm. I let out a long breath, my muscles slowly unwinding in the warm water, as I tried to forget about the frustrating man I was sharing a house with.

But, of course, Jungkook wasn’t one to let me enjoy my peace for long.

The first sign of trouble came when a splash of water hit my face, jolting me out of my relaxed state. My eyes flew open, and I immediately sat up, wiping the droplets off my face.

“What the fu—” My words caught in my throat as I took in the sight before me.

Jungkook was climbing into the jacuzzi, his expression as smug as ever. The glow of the garden lights reflected off his damp skin, and to my utter disbelief, he was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, my voice rising as I stared at him.

“Enjoying my jacuzzi,” he said casually, sinking into the water with a satisfied sigh. “You don’t get exclusive rights to it just because you decided to break the rules.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest as I glared at him.

“Am I?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Last I checked, this is my house. If anyone’s breaking the rules, it’s you.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to break your stupid rules if you weren’t so obsessed with controlling everything,” I retorted.

“Controlling?” he repeated, his tone mockingly offended. “I’m not the one setting up ridiculous boundaries to make life miserable.”

“You really can’t live without touching me, can you?” I shot back, my words laced with sarcasm.

His smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. But then it was gone, and he leaned back, draping his arms lazily over the edge of the tub.

“You’re imagining things,” he said smoothly. “This isn’t about you. I just wanted to enjoy my jacuzzi without worrying about a guest accidentally drowning in it.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “Right, because you’re such a selfless host.”

He shrugged, clearly unbothered by my sarcasm. “Believe what you want.”

I stared at him for a moment, my frustration warring with a begrudging sense of amusement. He was infuriating, sure, but there was also something almost...entertaining about the way he refused to back down.

“Fine,” I said finally, leaning back again. “You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed, though the playful glint in his eye made me wonder if he had any intention of keeping his word.

As I closed my eyes again and tried to recapture the calm I’d felt earlier, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I’d be able to endure sharing a house—and apparently, a jacuzzi—with someone as insufferable as Jungkook.

The silence in the jacuzzi was palpable, broken only by the soft hum of the bubbling water around us. I closed my eyes and tried to steady the erratic beating of my heart, willing myself to ignore how close Jungkook was. The way his presence seemed to fill every inch of the space around me made it impossible to fully relax, even though the water soothed my sore muscles.

But, of course, peace wasn’t something Jungkook allowed for very long.

“So,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “I’ve decided what we should bet on.”

I opened one eye to look at him, already bracing myself for whatever ridiculous idea he was about to throw my way. “When did we agree on a bet?”

“Our conversation from before remember,” he said, leaning back against the edge of the jacuzzi as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a way that immediately made me suspicious.

“And?” I prompted, narrowing my eyes at him.

“And,” he continued, dragging out the word just to irritate me, “I bet that you’ll touch me first.”

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with? How mature of you.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “It’s a fair bet. You’re always acting so above it all, like I don’t get under your skin. Let’s see how long that really lasts.”

“Please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If anything, you’ll be the one to slip up first.”

His smirk deepened, and something about the way he leaned forward slightly made my pulse quicken. “Is that your bet, then?”

“Fine,” I said, sitting up straighter to meet his challenge head-on. “I bet you’ll touch me first.”

“And the stakes?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, though his gaze was sharp and focused.

I thought for a moment, wanting to come up with something that would wipe that cocky smirk off his face. “Whoever loses has to do whatever the other person asks. No questions, no arguments.”

His eyebrows rose in mock surprise, but the amused grin never left his face. “You’re that confident, huh?”

“More like realistic,” I shot back.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly to seal the bet. But the moment my fingers wrapped around his, his grin turned into a full-blown smirk.

“You just lost,” he said, his voice laced with triumph.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You touched me,” he said, holding up our joined hands as if to make his point perfectly clear. “Bet’s over. I win.”

My jaw dropped as realization hit me. “You cheated! That doesn’t count!”

“A bet is a bet,” he said smugly, releasing my hand and leaning back like a king who’d just won a war. “Now you owe me.”

I glared at him, my frustration bubbling up alongside the water. “What could your majesty possibly want me to do?”

His smirk softened into something more playful, but the glint in his eyes remained as dangerous as ever. “Oh, it’s nothing crazy,” he said, his tone dripping with false innocence.

Before I could protest further, Jungkook reached out again, this time grabbing my wrist and tugging me forward with surprising ease. My body moved before my brain could catch up, and suddenly, my chest was pressed against his, my legs brushing against his in the water.

I froze, my breath catching as I looked up at him. His face was so close, his dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“I want you to kiss me,” he said, his voice low and steady.

My eyes widened, and I blinked at him, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I’m not shy,” I said quickly, though my voice betrayed me by coming out softer than I intended.

His expression was unreadable, but the way his hands rested on my hips, holding me firmly but gently, made it clear he wasn’t planning to let me go anytime soon. “Then prove it.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing in my chest. My mind screamed at me to pull back, to say something sarcastic and end this before it got out of hand. But my body seemed to have other ideas.

Taking a shaky breath, I closed my eyes and leaned in. My lips brushed against his lightly at first, tentative and unsure, but the warmth of his mouth against mine made it impossible to stop.

The kiss deepened quickly, Jungkook’s hands sliding down to my thighs as he pulled me even closer. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and I felt his fingers press into my skin, holding me as if he was afraid I’d let go.

His lips moved against mine with a confidence that made my head spin, and I found myself gripping his shoulders to steady myself. The heat between us was overwhelming, and every brush of his mouth felt like a spark igniting something I couldn’t control.

When I finally pulled back for air, my chest heaving, Jungkook’s forehead rested against mine. He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “I wonder what pretty noises I can get you to make.”

My cheeks burned, and I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. He didn’t give me a chance to gather my thoughts, leaning in again to press his lips to my neck.

The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip to keep from making any sound. His mouth was warm and soft, leaving a trail of kisses along the sensitive skin of my collarbone.

“Jungkook…” I whispered, unsure if I was pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“Yes princess.” He hummed against my skin, his grip on my thighs tightening as if to anchor me to him. The sound sent a rush of warmth through me, and I felt my resolve slipping further away with every touch, every kiss.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Neither of us said anything, but the unspoken tension between us hung heavy in the air, impossible to ignore.

“You’re such a pervert,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, his hands still resting on my thighs. “You’re the one who made the bet.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue and remind him that he’d cheated, but the words died on my lips the moment his kisses began to trail lower. My breath hitched as I felt the soft press of his lips against the skin of my chest, each kiss igniting a spark that traveled down my spine.

My chest rose and fell with nervous anticipation as he paused, his lips hovering just above my breasts. His gaze lifted to meet mine, dark and questioning, as if silently asking for permission to continue. The intensity in his eyes sent a wave of heat coursing through me, and I felt my cheeks burn under his stare.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gave him a shy nod, my curiosity and the pull of the moment far outweighing my nerves.

Jungkook’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles before he leaned forward again, his mouth leaving a soft, lingering kiss in the valley between my breasts. The simple gesture sent shivers racing through me, and I felt my body respond in ways I hadn’t anticipated—my skin warming, my breaths growing shallow, my mind clouded with sensation.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he slid his hands up my sides, his fingers grazing the straps of my bra before pushing them down. The fabric gave way easily, and before I could fully process what was happening, his lips were on me.

The first touch of his mouth against my bare nipple sent a jolt through me, and I gasped quietly, my fingers instinctively clutching at the edge of the hot tub for balance. He moved with a hunger that was both overwhelming and intoxicating, his tongue and lips working in tandem as he lavished attention on one breast and then the other.

Each pull and flick of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure through me, leaving me breathless and trembling under his touch. His hands weren’t idle either—one rested firmly on my waist, holding me in place as though he were afraid I’d run any second now, while the other skimmed up my thigh, the sensation leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the bubbling water and the erratic pounding of my heart.

He hummed in response, the vibration of the sound against my skin making me shiver. The way he moved—confident, deliberate, and utterly unrelenting—made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

I tilted my head back, my eyes fluttering shut as I surrendered to the moment. It was impossible to think about anything else—about where we were, about the consequences, about the bet we’d made. All I could focus on was the heat of his mouth, the way his hands seemed to mold perfectly to my body, and the delicious ache that was building in the pit of my stomach.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were slightly swollen, his breathing heavy. He rested his forehead against my chest for a moment before lifting his gaze to mine. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, filled with something that made my pulse quicken all over again.

“You’re too tempting for your own good,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down my spine.

I stared at his disheveled face in awe, unable to look away. His hair was damp and slightly tousled, his lips swollen and pink from the intensity of our kiss, and his cheeks were dusted with a deep flush that made him look almost boyish. For a fleeting moment, he reminded me of someone who had just shared their very first kiss with their childhood crush—vulnerable and utterly endearing.

Jungkook caught me staring and arched a brow, his smirk returning despite the obvious redness in his face. “What are you looking at?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with teasing.

“You,” I replied before I could stop myself. My own cheeks flared as I realized what I’d just said, but I tried to cover it up by adding, “You look different. Not so cocky for once.”

His smirk widened, and the cockiness I’d just mentioned flared back into place as if I’d summoned it. “Different, huh? Is that your way of saying you like what you see?”

“Don’t push your luck,” I shot back, rolling my eyes, though my lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Before I could overthink what was happening, Jungkook closed the small distance between us once more, his hand cupping the side of my face. “If you’re going to stare at me like that, I might as well give you something to really look at,” he murmured before capturing my lips again.

This time, the kiss was softer. There was no rush, no urgency—just the slow, intoxicating press of his mouth against mine. It felt like he was savouring the moment, drawing it out as long as possible, and I couldn’t help but melt into him. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and I clung to him as if letting go would break the spell we were under.

Jungkook’s hands began to roam, one slipping down to my ass lightly squeezing the flesh, while the other cradled the back of my neck. His touch was firm yet gentle, and every brush of his fingers against my skin sent a thrill racing through me.

“You’re addictive,” he murmured against my lips, his words making my heart skip a beat.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my head spinning. “You’re one to talk,” I whispered, unable to hide the smile that tugged at my lips.

His eyes softened as he looked at me, and for a moment, it felt like the world around us had disappeared. There was no bubbling water, no cool night air—just him and me, tangled together in a moment that felt far too perfect to be real.

But Jungkook, being Jungkook, couldn’t let the moment stay tender for too long. “You know,” he said, his smirk making a comeback as his thumb brushed over my cheek. “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to think you’ve already forgotten about your little bet.”

“Forgotten?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Hardly. I’m just playing along since you already gave in.”

“Playing along, huh?” he teased, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine. “That’s a bold strategy. Let’s see how long it lasts.”

He kissed me again before I could respond, his mouth moving against mine with a renewed fervor that made my heart race all over again. It was impossible to think when he kissed me like that, and maybe that was the point—maybe he was trying to throw me off my game.

But two could play at that.

I slid my hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between us. If he thought he could distract me into losing, he was sorely mistaken, I was going to prove just how much he craved my touch.

Jungkook groaned softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it took everything in me not to smile in triumph. His grip on my waist tightened, and I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain control.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice low and husky.

“Right back at you,” I replied, my own voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. Whatever was happening between us, it was undeniable, and neither of us seemed willing—or able—to stop it.

“Should we call this a draw?” I asked, half-joking but also half-serious.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “This game is far from over.”

And with that, he held me tighter against him body and stepped out of the jacuzzi making his way inside and up the stairs to his room.

He tightened his grip on me, holding me securely against his chest as he stepped out of the jacuzzi with ease. Water dripped from his body and mine, leaving a trail behind us as he made his way toward the house. I shivered slightly as the cool night air hit my damp skin, but Jungkook’s warmth was enough to keep me from protesting.

Without a word, he carried me through the sliding doors and into the house, his steps steady despite the slippery floor beneath him. I could feel the strength in his arms as he held me, and though part of me wanted to object to being carried around like this, the other part of me was too distracted by the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear.

“Jungkook,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hmm?” he responded, his tone casual as he started up the steps.

“You’re soaking wet, and so am I,” I pointed out, though it sounded more like an observation than a complaint. “We’re going to ruin the floors.”

He chuckled, the sound low and deep. “I’ll survive. And so will the floors.”

I huffed, but before I could say anything else, we reached the top of the stairs. Jungkook turned toward his room, pushing the door open with his shoulder before stepping inside. The familiar scent of him—something warm and woodsy—wrapped around me as he gently set me down on the edge of his bed.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice softer now as he brushed a strand of wet hair away from my face.

I blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden tenderness in his tone. “Where are you going?”

“To grab towels,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Unless you want to sit here and drip water all over my bed.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, watching as he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. A moment later, he returned with two plush towels in hand. He tossed one onto the bed beside me and used the other to start drying himself off.

I hesitated for a moment before picking up the towel and wrapping it around myself, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed I felt in just my bra and underwear. Jungkook didn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, he looked entirely too comfortable as he ran the towel through his hair, the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement.

“Are you always this bossy?” I asked, trying to fill the silence as I began to dry my arms and legs.

“Only when someone breaks the rules,” he shot back, his tone light but teasing.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not seriously still mad about that, are you?”

He smirked, leaning against the edge of the bed. “I’m not mad. But I am curious. What made you decide to break the rules tonight?”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I was sore, and the jacuzzi looked inviting. It’s not like I was snooping around or anything.”

Jungkook tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my stomach flip. “You could’ve just asked me for permission, you know.”

“And risked you saying no? I don’t think so.”

His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, his hands resting on the bed on either side of me as he leaned down. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as his face hovered just inches from mine. “And if you weren’t?” I challenged, though my voice lacked the confidence I was trying to project.

“If I weren’t,” he said, his eyes flicking down to my lips, “you’d be in a lot more trouble.”

He started to pull away, but before he could fully step back, I grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. Caught off guard, Jungkook stumbled backward, landing flat on his back against the plush mattress. Without thinking, I climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap in nothing but my bra and underwear.

The movement was instinctive, fuelled by a mix of adrenaline and mischief, and the look on his face made it all the more satisfying. His wide eyes darted up to meet mine, his cheeks flushing a deep red that crept down to his neck.

“What are you—” he choked out, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

I smirked, leaning down slightly so our faces were closer. “What’s the matter, Jeon? Cat got your tongue?”

His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where to place them. He looked utterly flustered, and it was a stark contrast to his usual composed, cocky demeanor. I couldn’t help but laugh softly at his reaction, enjoying the rare sight of him so off-balance.

“This is payback,” I said teasingly, my smirk widening as I watched him struggle to maintain eye contact.

“For what?” he managed to ask, his voice a little higher than usual.

“For cheating,” I replied, placing my hands on his chest for balance. “And for thinking you can always have the upper hand.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he let out a shaky breath. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with tension.

“Am I?” I challenged, tilting my head. “Or are you just scared I’m winning?”

He chuckled softly, though the sound was strained. “You think this is winning?”

“Pretty sure I’m the one in control right now,” I said, trailing my fingers lightly down his chest.

His hands finally moved, gripping my hips firmly but not aggressively. “You’re in control, huh?” he said, his voice regaining some of its usual confidence despite the way his ears were still tinted pink.

“Completely,” I confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

In a swift, unexpected move, Jungkook rolled us over, flipping me onto my back as he hovered above me. His hands pinned my wrists gently to the mattress, his smirk now fully intact as he loomed over me.

“How’s that control working out for you?” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

I glared up at him, though the heat in my cheeks betrayed my attempt at annoyance. “That’s cheating.”

“Again with the cheating,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re just mad you can’t keep up.”

“Oh, I can keep up,” I shot back, struggling lightly against his grip.

Jungkook’s gaze softened for a moment as he looked down at me, his smirk fading into something warmer. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re confident,” he said, his tone more sincere than I expected.

I rolled my eyes. “Flattery isn’t going to get you out of this.”

“Out of what?” he asked, leaning down so our faces were inches apart. “You’re the one who started this.”

“And I’ll finish it too,” I said stubbornly, though the way my heart was racing made me question how much longer I could keep up the act.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to my lips, and for a moment, the teasing air between us shifted into something heavier. The tension crackled like a live wire, and I realized with a jolt that I wasn’t entirely sure who was going to make the next move—or if I even wanted to stop him if he did.

He leaned down further, his breath warm against my skin. “You talk a big game,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I think you’re just as caught up in this as I am.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat as his lips brushed against mine—not quite a kiss, but enough to make my pulse spike.

“Say the word,” he said, his voice husky and low. “And I’ll stop.”

I stared up at him, torn between the rational part of me screaming to push him away and the reckless part urging me to pull him closer. After a long pause, I finally whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a soft smile before he closed the distance, kissing me deeply, his grip on my wrists loosening just enough for me to free my hands and slide them up his back.

It was electric—every touch, every kiss igniting something inside me I didn’t know was there. My fingers tangled in his damp hair as his kisses grew more fervent, and for the first time, I stopped overthinking and let myself get lost in the moment.

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