#i was onto something and would like to not forget again

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[demonic0angel]

hasn't slept in a week dead tired Jason knocking on his neighbors door: hey Jazz would you mind watching Robin and Superboy for me so I can sleep? *holds out a scruffed Damian and Jon very much in civis* Thanks, I'll be back in an hour *stumbles back to his place*

Jon and Damian: 😮 Watch who? Who did he say you have to watch

“… we’re not Superboy or Robin,” Jon said nervously.

Jazz just blinked. Then she nodded slowly and said, “Yes. I would guess not, since you two don’t have flying powers, right?”

“Us two?” Damian said, very tense.

Jazz nodded and shrugged. “Yes. Since Robin and Superboy can both fly, right? I’ve never seen them in person, so I have no idea.”

Damian and Jon shared a look and then nodded at her, clearly not wanting to push it. Jazz just smiled idly and said, “Well, I can’t watch over you two here, so how about I take you to Arkham Asylum?”

“…you’re taking us to Arkham? Arkham Asylum?” Damian said, sounding appalled.

Jazz blinked and nodded. “I still have work. Would you two like to come with me to tour? I don’t have any meetings with any of the more… volatile patients for today. I can bring you around and you two can volunteer and help around.”

Jon looked eagerly at Damian, who glanced at his overexcited friend and then at Jazz. She smiled encouragingly and said with a smile, “I have a gun that I can use to protect you two, and I can fight. If it makes you feel better.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at her and then nodded once. He held Jon’s hand determinedly, which made Jazz’s lips twitch before she smoothed her face over in a flash.

Jazz beamed. “Great! Let’s go!”

————

Jason blinked. “Damn. They’re absolutely knocked out.”

Both Damian and Jon were completely and utterly worn out from the day they had. Usually, at this time, they’d be bouncing and nagging and screaming for patrol or excitement or games, but whatever sacrifice Jazz must’ve killed in order for peace must’ve been extremely valuable and to a very agreeable god.

“What did you do?” Jason asked, in awe.

She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “Just brought them around. They were so sweet! Although, I do want to tell you that Damian isn’t getting the amount of sleep that he needs for his age, and don’t look at me like that, I know what your nighttime job is, he still needs sleep. You should encourage him by making him associate bedtime with rewards, and I think that’ll make him less grumpy. He was very cute though! And Jon is an absolute sweetheart, I don’t mind watching them again if you’d like.”

Jason just smiled as he picked the two kids up in his arms. “I’ll give your advice to Dick and B. Thanks. Sorry for just dumping them on your doorstep.”

“You’re tired from the case, I get it. I don’t mind, but next time, I’d like a warning, okay?”

“Sure thing, Princess. Thank you again. I’ll cook dinner for us on Thursday?”

She nodded. Then she paused and said, “Also, you called them Robin and Superboy when you brought them here. Did you know that?”

Jason froze and then cursed to himself. “Damn! I knew I was forgetting something. Sorry, Princess, I forgot to tell them that you knew my identity so—”

“Hmm, yes, I figured, since they seemed really wary of me at first. It’s okay though, we had fun in the end and I think they like me a little now.” She giggled and then said, “I have to get back to my papers, but I’ll see you tonight, dearest!”

With another kiss, she ushered him out the door and waved goodbye before she left.

Jason smiled dreamily after her before bringing the kids to his bike, where he held them carefully as he drove though Gotham streets.

Damian woke up at some point, rubbing his eyes and yawning. At these times, Jason could kind of understand why Dick seemed to think he was the cutest thing in the universe. “Did you have a good rest, sleeping beauty?” He teased.

Damian nodded and said, “Next time Father wants you to babysit, don’t bother. Just bring us to your girlfriend and leave.”

Jason almost swerved. Damian hissed and held onto Jon, who grumbled and nearly knocked Jason off of his bike with his sleepy headbutt. “What! Damn, what the hell did she do for you to like her so much?!”

Damian smirked. “She has guts, smarts, skill, and compassion for the poor and unfortunate. You have chosen well for a sister-in-law and I expect you to marry in less than 3 years, understand?”

Jason looked at him like he was crazy. He appreciated the support, but he was starting to feel like Jazz might’ve replaced his brother with someone else. “… what did you three do all day?”

Damian smiled with all of his teeth. “She brought us to Arkham Asylum to shadow her work and then she defended us when one of the inmates broke out. She can perform a magnificent takedown with no hands.“

Jon also spoke up, blinking sleepy eyes, “She also let us meet Killer Croc! And we also met Poison Ivy! It was cool!”

“You should also tell her the truth at some point. We told her that you have horrific, delusional dreams because you can’t sleep and that’s why you lied about our identities.”

Jason just stared.

Yeah, that last part was definitely the usual Damian.

[cybrasigilism]

She’s Like Morphine (Player 380 x F!Reader)

content warnings: smut | winners love winning | fingering | cunnilingus | not proofread! | out of game AU | punk rocker! semi x f!reader

character: se-mi (player 380)

A/N: this was requested to me through my messages! i was already planning on writing for se-mi so it works out perfectly :) hope you guys enjoy!

thanks to @elixk1tten for the request!

MDNI! 18+ content ahead, reader discretion is advised

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

it was supposed to be a typical friday-night gig. the same old routine. se-mi had grown accustomed to seeing a pretty girl out in the crowd every now and then, but this time, this time it was different. she felt totally unprofessional because for the first time in her whole career of being a punk musician, she couldn’t take her eyes off of one person in the crowd in this dingy little dive bar…

and of course that person, was you.

you had caught se-mi’s eye from the moment she clocked you in the crowd after performing the first song. she no longer felt like she was performing just for the sake of it as usual in that moment, but she felt as though she had to impress you, specifically. like she was singing for you. she knew that she just had to get to you after the performance was done.

after the crowd of regulars dispersed from asking for photos and autographs with se-mi, she kept her eyes peeled for you amongst the many bar patrons. to many this would seem futile, as this dive bar was completely packed. but she had practically memorized your face the moment she got a good look at you out in the crowd. she had hoped that maybe you had stuck around, so she could have a chance to put a name to the face that stunned her.

lucky for her, you had indeed chosen to stick around. se-mi wasn’t the only one who was mystified with the person she saw that night, as that was exactly how you felt when she walked up to centre stage. you felt your cheeks grow hot when she looked at you, and you could tell she was looking right at you, it wasn’t a coincidence. you pretended not to notice as se-mi approached you, nervously trying to act as though you were staring into your drink and definitely not thinking the wholly inappropriate thoughts that you definitely were.

“so, did you enjoy the show?” she chuckled, causing you to jump in your seat a bit, you turned around swiftly and realized just how closely she was actually standing next to you. you stared blankly for a moment, trying to compose yourself, before she cocked her head and asked “you alright?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m okay.” you laughed nervously, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you tried your best not to make too much eye contact. “yeah, i really loved the show.” se-mi smiled, and proceeded to ask if she could sit down, to which you quickly accepted. why wouldn’t you?

“what’s your name?” my, she was rather quick to start getting to know you, wasn’t she. you were so used to people trying to hit on you without at least getting your name first that her formality shocked you. “my name?” you echoed, earning another snicker from se-mi. “what, did you forget your own name or something?” she teased, you could feel your cheeks warm up again with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, it’s (Y/N).” you apologized, bowing your head slightly. “don’t do that, you don’t have anything to apologize for.” she said reassuringly. “i guess you’re used to assholes just coming onto you without a proper introduction, huh.”

you were dumbfounded by how well she was reading you, it’s not exactly like you had a poker face by any means but her accuracy was astounding. “how did you guess?” you rolled your eyes jokingly, taking a sip of your drink. se-mi looked you up and down before blatantly saying “well it’s pretty obvious given how gorgeous you are, i’m sure you’ve got fools tripping over themselves for you all the time.” you chuckled a bit, before tucking your hair behind your ear (a classic move i know), and thanking her. “you know, i don’t usually do this… but i was thinking something.” she started, leaning in a bit so you could hear her better. “how about you come backstage? i’d love to get to know you better, y’know, one on one.” she placed her hand on your thigh at saying the last bit, causing your temperature to spike tenfold, you were positive.

“really?” you stammered, trying not to explode at the contact she just closed between you two. “are you…are you even allowed to have me back there? i don’t have a backstage pass..” se-mi giggled and looked out into the crowd. “yeah usually that would be a problem,” she looked back at you, once more giving you the up-down, “but i think i can make an exception for you.”

⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰

of all the things you expected to happen tonight, being underneath a super hot, punk rocker with her knee between your legs was the very last thing you could have thought. it was a surprise you could even focus on thinking about how you got to this point when you had se-mi marking up your neck, biting softly every once and again. your eyes were practically glazed over as she slid her ringed hands up your shirt and beneath your bra, fingers playing with your nipples. you cried out at the cold sensation of her fingers over your breasts but at the same time you’ve never felt so good. she released herself from your neck and smirked down at you.

“you feeling good?” se-mi asked almost smugly as she toyed with the buttons on your shirt, attempting to break through to what she wanted underneath. you shook your head, barely being able to formulate a sentence before she pressed her knee into your crotch. “i’m gonna need words, baby.” something about her voice just drove you insane, as if in a trance you responded almost instantly. “god, yes.” you moaned out, grabbing at her shirt and pulling her in for a kiss. you could feel se-mi chuckle against your lips, before pulling back and taking off her own shirt. you don’t know why but the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath shocked you, but what she was about to do would shock you even further.

se-mi kissed down your torso all the way to the zipper of your jeans, to which she looked up at you as if waiting for an “okay”, which you gave. she then took the zipper in between her teeth and pulled all the way down, looking up at you all the while. you felt your core heat up as she unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them off, revealing a black, lacy pair of panties. she looked up at you with a smirk and a raised brow. “you were so hoping something like this would happen, weren’t you?” se-mi snickered. you blushed and turned away, but she only laughed before affixing your leg above her shoulder. “no fault there, i’m not about to judge someone for being prepared.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, too nervous to maintain eye contact as she pulled your panties to the side to reveal just how soaked she had gotten you. “shit, how quickly did you get like this?” she asked, practically forcing you to open your eyes. “i..um..” you were well beyond the point of speaking a full sentence now. “i dunno… just need you.” se-mi could feel how desperate you were for her, hell the evidence was literally right in front of her face, and she decided to get a taste of just exactly how much you needed her.

your back forcibly arched as she licked up your pussy, you could tell she wanted to take her time with you and god, you hoped she did. she drew moans and whimpers from you as she sucked on your clit, moaning while she did so herself. you took a handful of her black hair in your hand when she eventually inserted two fingers into your hole, still sucking and licking and your clit. her motions were slow and deliberate, she wanted you to feel every thrust as she pumped her fingers in and out of you.

“ ‘s too- too much.. ‘m gonna.. ‘m gonna…” you managed to utter through your whines, she released herself from your clit, fingers still working your pussy. “you’re gonna what, sweetheart?” she taunted, her motions growing quicker as tears formed in your eyes. “‘m so close, p—lease!” you cry out. feeling your walls clench around her fingers, she could definitely tell. “you’re gonna cum?” se-mi repeated, growing breathy herself. “yeah? then do it. cum for me.” she ordered, going back to sucking and licking your clit. you were practically seeing stars at this point, thoughts and sense be damned, all you could think about was how good se-mi was making you feel, and you did not want her stopping.

your legs began to shake and your grip on her hair had not loosened, you clenched down on her fingers once more before coming off the edge. se-mi’s pace finally slowed down and before you knew it, she had moved from your pussy to your lips, kissing you softly. you could taste yourself on her lips, but you were so far gone you certainly did not care. se-mi took in the state of you and chuckled, before putting her shirt back on and laying you across her lap.

“how about next time, you go down on me?” she suggested, combing her hands through your hair. you nodded, still in a daze. you couldn’t think of anything else but her.

se-mi was like a drug, she was your morphine.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

thanks for reading! and as usual advice and constructive criticism are always appreciated and requested, I’m constantly looking for ways to improve my writing :>

[piastrisun]

rings and regrets.

pairings: oscar piastri + ex fem reader.

summary: on the night of your engagement party, as you glide through the celebration, the last person you expect to see is oscar—your ex who broke your heart.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 3.7k.⠀ warning: none.

request: could you do an oscar x ex!reader where reader is engaged to another person and oscar comes to the engagement party to talk with reader while they slow dance. just something super angsty with fluff. thanks so much!

notes: so so happy it’s a request!! i hope it’s what you imagined and that you enjoy it a lot. <3 thank u thank u

you never thought it would end like this—your life divided between a past you can’t quite forget and a future you’ve been building, piece by piece. your relationship with oscar had been everything once. there were days when it felt like the two of you were invincible, everything falling into place: shared memories, laughter, plans for the future. but when it came down to the most important thing, the thing that made you want to take that step forward, he faltered.

oscar hadn’t been ready for marriage. you’d known it for a while, but hearing him say it out loud was still a shock. the words cut deeper than you’d expected. “i love you, but i’m not sure i can do this yet,” he had told you, his voice shaking, as if admitting that to you was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

you had tried, you really had. you gave him space, waited for him to come around, but the longer you waited, the more the silence between you two stretched. eventually, you understood that no matter how much you loved him, he wasn’t going to change. the engagement ring you had imagined slipping onto your finger now felt like a distant dream.

you left. the apartment you once shared became a hollow reminder of what could’ve been, and you never looked back.

months passed, and you moved forward. it wasn’t easy—how could it be, when your heart still carried pieces of him? but you found someone who was ready. someone who didn’t hesitate when you spoke of futures or building a life together. your fiancé, thomas, was steady and warm, the kind of man who held you without hesitation, who showed you what it was like to trust again.

and now, here you are. engaged to him. a soft smile on your lips as you stand beside him at your engagement party, your hands intertwined as the music swirls around the room. it’s a celebration of a love that’s been growing, blooming in ways that feel solid and right. you’ve known thomas for a while now. he's kind, dependable, everything you ever thought you wanted. he’s a man who thinks ahead, plans for the future, and dreams of stability. he was everything oscar wasn’t—and for that, you’re grateful. he’s everything you wanted, and more.

still, there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t quite shake. it’s as if the past is lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface.

the night is supposed to be a celebration. the air is filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as guests gather to toast your engagement. it's a moment that should feel like a dream come true—your friends and family, your fiancé at your side, all gathered to mark this new chapter in your life. the venue is elegant, soft golden lights hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the carefully arranged tables. the sound of music drifts through the air, setting a light, joyful tone.

thomas holding your hand tightly as he grins at the guests, proudly showcasing the ring on your finger. you smile back at him, a genuine smile, even though your chest feels a little tight. everything is falling into place. or at least it should be.

the soft glow of string lights casts a warm, intimate atmosphere over the engagement party. couples move fluidly across the dance floor, and you’re among them, your fiancé’s hand resting lightly on your waist as the two of you sway to the rhythm of a slow song. your dress feels heavy—not from its weight but from the pressure of the moment. the words fall flat, lost in the noise of your own thoughts.

that’s when you see him—oscar. he’s standing at the edge of the room, his suit tailored to perfection but slightly disheveled, as if he’d run his hands through his hair too many times. his gaze locks onto you, and you feel the air leave your lungs. it’s been years since you’ve seen him, but the storm in his eyes is achingly familiar.

you try to ignore it, thomas’ hand gently tightens around your waist as the music slows, pulling you closer into the embrace of the dance. “you okay?” he whispers, his lips brushing the side of your ear, but you can’t answer. your eyes are locked on oscar, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t even tried to blend in with the crowd. he’s watching you, and you feel the familiar ache inside you, the one that never quite went away.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, too quickly, but thomas doesn’t seem to notice. he murmurs something else about how beautiful you look tonight, and you smile, the motion automatic, but distant.

oscar’s gaze burns through you. it’s not a look of anger, not even regret—no, it’s more complicated than that. you’ve seen that look before, in the quiet moments between you both, when he used to be afraid to let his guard down. the same expression that haunted your dreams, even after everything.

oscar approaches, weaving through the crowd until he’s close enough that you can feel his presence, though he doesn’t say a word at first. when he finally does, his voice is quiet but weighted.

“may i have this dance?” oscar asks, his tone gentle, almost formal, but there’s an undercurrent of something raw beneath it.

your fiancé looks at him with polite curiosity, unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface. he glances at you, a soft smile on his face. “do you know him?”

you hesitate, your throat tightening. “an old friend,” you manage, the words tasting strange on your tongue.

thomas nods, his smile never faltering. “go ahead. i’ll grab us some champagne,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple before stepping aside, oblivious to the weight of what he’s just allowed.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet oscar’s eyes. “this isn’t the time,” you murmur, but he’s already extending his hand, waiting. despite every alarm in your head screaming at you to walk away, you take it. the moment his hand touches yours, a jolt runs through you, the kind that feels like both a spark and a wound reopening.

the music swells around you as he leads you to the center of the dance floor. his hand finds your waist, his touch familiar but tentative, while the other clasps yours gently.

“can we talk?” oscar’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge of desperation you hadn’t expected. he looks at you, and for the first time in a long while, you see the vulnerability in him.

your steps falter, but you force yourself to keep moving, your hand trembling slightly in his. “not now,” you reply, your tone sharper than you mean.

oscar doesn’t back down. if anything, his grip on you steadies, his jaw tightening. “please, just five minutes,” he murmurs, quieter this time, but no less intense.

the air between you feels charged, and you glance toward thomas at the edge of the room, standing with a champagne flute in each hand, waiting for you with the ease of someone who trusts you completely.

your stomach twists. “we shouldn’t do this here, i can’t,” you say under your breath, though your voice trembles as much as your hands.

oscar nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “then let’s go somewhere else. just for a moment. please.”

the finality in his tone makes it impossible to refuse. you glance at thomas again, guilt pinching at your chest, but when you meet oscar’s eyes, there’s something in them that pulls you in, something you’ve never been able to resist.

you exhale shakily. “we’ll talk outside,” you whisper, breaking the spell for a moment.

the sharp night air bites at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest. as you step further into the quiet, away from the glow of the party, your steps grow quicker, more urgent. your heels sinking slightly into the manicured grass with every hurried step. oscar follows, his footsteps steady but urgent behind you. the laughter and music from the engagement party grow faint, replaced by the erratic pounding of your heart.

you spin around once you’re far enough away, the soft glow of garden lanterns casting a pale light over his face. “what are you doing here, oscar?” your words come out harder than you feel, a defensive shield against the way your chest aches at seeing him again.

he stops a few feet away, his hands still buried in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together. “i needed to see you,” he says, his voice tight. he shoves his hands into his pockets, his movements restless. “i heard about the engagement, and i—” he stops, dragging in a shaky breath.

his words catch in your chest. “you’re too late,” you whisper, though you wish, just for a second, that he hadn’t come. “you made your choice, oscar.”

“i made a mistake.” his voice cracks, and he takes a hesitant step closer, as if he’s unsure whether or not he should cross the line. “i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want to make it right.”

"and? what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?" you gesture around, your voice rising with a mix of anger and disbelief. "crashing my engagement party? making a scene in front of everyone i care about? do you think this is some kind of grand gesture that's going to fix everything?"

"i just—" his voice falters, but he holds your gaze, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "i couldn’t just let this happen without saying something."

your heart hammers in your chest, but you cross your arms, the gesture more to steady yourself than to push him away. “you couldn’t let this happen? what, me moving on? finding someone who—” you swallow hard, the words catching. “someone who actually wanted me?”

his face contorts, pain flickering across it. “don’t say that. you know that’s not true.”

“isn't it?” your voice wavers, and you hate yourself for it. “you left, oscar. you said you weren’t ready, and i waited for you to change your mind, but you never did.”

“i know.” he steps closer, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “i was scared. i thought i had time, but seeing you now… i can’t lose you. not like this.”

“what were you hoping for—that i’d just drop everything and run back to you?”

“is that so impossible?” his voice sharpens, his composure cracking. “after everything we’ve been through, is it really so crazy to think you might still care?”

“care?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet garden. “of course i care, oscar. i cared when i waited for you for years, hoping you’d finally be ready. i cared when you told me you weren’t, and i had to pick up the pieces of myself that you left behind. what about you, huh?” your throat tightens, and you shake your head, stepping back.

he flinches, his jaw tightening. “you think i didn’t care? that it didn’t kill me to walk away from you? i thought i was doing the right thing, giving you a chance to find someone who could give you everything i couldn’t.”

“don’t you dare act noble,” you snap, your voice breaking under the weight of your anger. “you didn’t leave for me, oscar. you left because you were a coward.”

the word hangs in the air between you, cutting deeper than either of you expected. he takes a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “maybe i was,” he says, his voice softer now but no less intense. “but i’m here now. doesn’t that count for something?”

“no, you don’t get to do this now. not when i’m finally…” the words falter because you don’t know if they’re true. are you happy? or are you simply surviving without him? you shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “you don’t get to show up now and act like you’re the hero of this story. i’ve spent so long trying to move on, trying to be happy without you, and now you want to rip it all apart?”

“i’m not trying to ruin your life,” he says, his voice rising again. “i’m trying to fix what happened. and you—” he stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “you’re still it for me. you always have been.”

your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in them slicing through your anger like a knife. “you don’t get to say that,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“why not?” he challenges, his gaze locking onto yours. “because it’s the truth? because you know it’s still there between us, no matter how much you try to deny it?”

“i’m not denying anything.” you snap, your emotions boiling over. “but it’s not that simple, oscar. you left me. do you have any idea what that did to me? how hard it was to piece myself back together, only to have you show up and try to pull it all apart again?"”

he steps closer, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “i know i hurt you. i know i don’t deserve anything from you, but i can’t stand the thought of losing you forever.”he sees the crack in your armor, and his voice softens, filled with desperation. “do you love him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the stomach. you look down, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “don’t ask me that,” you whisper.

“why not? because you don’t want to lie, or because you can’t tell me the truth?” he steps even closer now, and you can smell the faint cologne he always used to wear. it’s maddening, pulling you into a past you’ve tried so hard to bury.

you glance back at the dance floor where your fiancé waits, his eyes scanning the crowd. he’s everything you wanted—stable, kind, ready to commit. but oscar is everything you lost.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have come.”

“please, just tell me—do you love him?” his question knocks the air out of your lungs.

you look away, your throat tight, your mind a mess of conflicting emotions. “why does it matter?”

“because it’s the only thing that matters to me,” he says, his voice breaking. “if you love him, i’ll walk away. i swear i will. but if there’s even a part of you that still loves me…”

“stop it,” you whisper, shaking your head. “you don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“i’m asking you to be honest with yourself," he says, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “do you love him the way you loved me?”

the words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. you feel the tears spill over, hot against your cold cheeks. “why are you doing this to me?"”

“because i can’t let you go without fighting for you,” he says, his voice trembling. “not again."”

you let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to hold yourself together. “you should’ve fought for me when it mattered.”

his expression crumples, the weight of your words hitting him like a blow. “you’re right,” he whispers. “i should have. and i’ll spend the rest of my life regretting that i didn’t.”

his shoulders sag, but his gaze remains on you, raw and pleading. “if you can tell me you don’t love me anymore, i’ll walk away. right now. i swear.”

the sound of voices and laughter from the party drifts faintly through the garden, a cruel reminder of the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. you glance back toward the lights, toward your fiancé waiting inside, then back at oscar, who looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

your breath hitches. the weight of the moment presses down on you, and the music in the background becomes a distant hum. you open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. instead, a single tear slips down your cheek, and that’s answer enough.

oscar watches you, his face softening as he steps closer again, his hand lifting but stopping just shy of touching you. “i never stopped loving you,” he says quietly, his voice almost breaking. “even when i tried to move on, it was always you.”

his words shatter something inside you. “oscar…”

you look back toward the golden glow of the party, the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. thomas is waiting inside, kind and dependable, offering a love that is steady and certain. but when you turn back to oscar, all you see is the man who once made you feel like the world could catch fire and you wouldn’t care as long as he was holding you.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice breaking. “i can’t keep breaking my heart over you.”

oscar’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you but knows he shouldn’t. he exhales shakily, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulls back. “i’ll wait for you,” he says, his voice breaking. “even if it takes forever.”

your fingers close around his instinctively, a fleeting, fragile connection that neither of you is ready to let go of just yet. “you can’t just wait for me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “that’s not fair to you.”

he smiles faintly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “life’s not fair. but you’re worth it.“

for a moment, the world seems to stop. the sound of laughter and music fades completely, and all that exists is the way he’s looking at you—raw, hopeful, and utterly unguarded.

you pull your hand back slowly, your heart breaking all over again. “i don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice cracking.

oscar steps back, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he’s memorising every detail of this moment. “take the time you need,” he says softly. “but don’t think for a second that i’m going anywhere. i’m here, no matter how long it takes.”

and with that, he steps away, leaving you standing there under the stars, torn between a future that feels safe and a love that burns like a fire you’re not sure you can survive.

you glance back toward the glow of the party, then down at your hand, where his warmth still lingers. for the first time in a long time, you realise that love, even the messy kind, has never truly left you. and that scares you more than anything else.

the sound of oscar’s retreating footsteps stings, every step pulling him further away from you, further into the shadows of the garden. you should let him leave—should stay rooted where you are, let your choice carry you forward. but something inside you stirs, refuses to let this be the end.

“wait,” you call softly, barely audible over the hum of the music. but he hears you. he stops mid-step, his back stiffening as though he doesn’t dare turn around, afraid of the hope that might break him.

when he finally turns to face you, his expression is a mix of pain and something else—something fragile but enduring. love.

“i hate you for this,” you whisper, but your voice trembles with something softer than anger. “i hate that you still make me feel this way.”

oscar lets out a shaky breath, a flicker of something like relief crossing his face. “i don’t care if you hate me, as long as you don’t stop feeling something for me.”

you shake your head, your tears falling freely now. “you ruined me, oscar. and then you left.”

“i know,” he says, stepping closer, his hand lifting tentatively toward your face but stopping just shy of touching. “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, if you let me.”

the weight of his words presses against your chest, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, caught in the pull of him, of everything you once had and could never fully let go of.

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur, your voice almost breaking.

“why not?” he asks softly. “because it’s true? because i love you?”

his words make your breath hitch, and for a brief moment, the world around you blurs. you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but then you feel his hand—gentle, warm—slip over yours. it’s hesitant, like he’s asking permission with the simplest touch.

you don’t pull away.

“i can’t walk away from you again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “not without knowing if there’s still a part of your heart that has my name on it.”

your chest tightens, and when you look up at him, there’s a softness in his eyes that undoes you completely. you’ve seen that look before, years ago, in moments you thought you’d forgotten. it’s the look that made you fall in love with him the first time.

for a moment, you don’t think. you lean in, just enough to rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the cold night air. “you’re impossible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

“and you’re everything,” he whispers back, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

you stay there, suspended in a moment that feels too delicate to break. and when you finally pull back, your heart feels just a little lighter, even as the ache remains.

“go,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “i need time.”

oscar nods, though you can see the pain in his eyes. “i’ll give you all the time you need,” he says, his voice steady despite the crack you hear beneath it. “but i’ll be waiting, always.”

he presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles before stepping back, his warmth lingering even after he’s gone. you watch him disappear into the night, your heart torn but beating with something that feels dangerously close to hope.

as you turn back toward the lights of the party, you catch your reflection in the glass doors, your tear-streaked face and trembling smile staring back at you. you’re not sure where this path will take you, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like you’re finally letting yourself choose.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[okaysonny]

happy new years!! just stumbled on your latest post and i absolutely adore the way you portrayed jake❤️❤️

Can i request for Jake kim x reader where they are similar to sinu han and yeonhui’s relationship and how they act

like yeonhui trying to hit sinu many times but fails miserably (im sorry if you don’t understand my request i cant construct well since english is not my 2nd language 🥲🥲)

smack me if you can ╏ jake kim

ᯓ★ summary: a bet with jake turns into a week long quest to beat his reflexes.

ᯓ★ details: fluff, f! reader, established relationship, spoiler free, jerry appearance! he always shows up when i make jake fics i'm crying

ᯓ★ wc: 920

ᯓ★ A/N: thank youuu for your kind words! 🫶🏽 happy new year :) you probably mentioned yeonhui hitting sinu as an example, but...i took it and ran 🤫

anon is talking about this post btw, if you haven't seen it 👅

as jake quietly slurps his noodles, you sneak up behind him, winding your arm back for the perfect smack on his cheek. just as you’re about to make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist mid swing.

jake blinks at you, visibly confused. “uh…did i do something wrong?”

you huff and shake your head. “of course not! i was just testing something!”

“testing what, exactly?” he asks, raising a brow. but his lips twitch, holding back his amusement.

you glance away, a little sheepish. “i saw yeonhui try to slap sinu earlier, but he dodged it like it was nothing. i just wanted to see if you’d do the same”

jake stares at you for a second, then shrugs. “when you've been fighting for so long, dodging stuff like that becomes second nature. it’s just instinct”

you nod absentmindedly, muttering. “yeah...of course”

but as you turn to walk away, you spin back abruptly and take another swing at him.

he dodges — easily.

your jaw drops. “are you kidding me?”

jake chuckles now, clearly entertained. “told you. you’re not gonna land that slap”

“you little—” you stop yourself, gritting your teeth. “i definitely will”

jake grins, thoroughly enjoying this. “i bet you can’t slap me by the end of the week”

you scoff. “you’re on. and if i lose, i’ll buy you that special chocolate cake you devour like a pig. for a whole week”

his eyes light up at the mention of it. “deal. and when i win, don’t forget to tell everyone your boyfriend has ninja reflexes”

you roll your eyes. "whatever jake. i'm winning this"

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍰 ⋅ ☆

Monday

“woah, look over there jake!”

he glances in the direction you point.

gotcha! you raise your hand.

SLA-

without missing a beat, he dodges, turning back to you with a smirk. “nice try”

you groan.

Tuesday

feigning a pout, you sigh dramatically. “jake…i don’t feel so good. can you check if i have a fever?”

he leans forward, pressing his palm lightly to your forehead.

perfect. you aim for his cheek once more.

SLA-

but jake dodges effortlessly again, pulling back with a chuckle. “you’ll have to try harder than that”

you flop onto the couch, glaring at him.

Wednesday

while eating dinner, you point at jake’s face. “you’ve got sauce on your cheek”

he raises a brow. “do i?”

“yeah, let me get it for you” you say sweetly, reaching out.

too easy. as your hand inches closer, you shift suddenly.

SLA-

jake leans back smugly. “i thought you were more creative than this”

you stab at your food with a fork, fuming silently.

Thursday

desperate times call for desperate measures. you corner jerry in big deal's supply closet, shutting the door behind you.

jerry looks alarmed. "w-what are you doing?" he squeaks. "i don't know what you're planning, but i would never betray jake like this—"

“what? ew! this isn't even close to that!” you snap.

you exhale deeply, composing yourself. “jerry...how would i sneak up on jake and catch him off guard?”

jerry’s eyes light up with pride. “ah...boss jake could never be caught off guard. his reflexes are unmatched, his instincts sharp as—”

“alright, relax. who’s dating him, me or you?” you mutter, already regretting this. before he can continue singing jake’s praises, you shake your head and leave. "never mind...i should solve this on my own"

"where are you going?" jerry asks in confusion.

as you leave the supply closet, you pause, clenching your fist in the air — like some sort of revolutionary leader. “this isn’t just for me. this slap… is for womankind”

you march off with purpose, leaving jerry staring at you, baffled.

Friday

jake is casually scrolling through his phone when you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he glances up, pleasantly surprised, a smile spreading across his face.

“what’s this for?” he asks, his voice laced with affection.

“just...for being the best boyfriend” you reply softly, taking the phone from his hands and setting it aside.

jake tilts his head, watching you curiously as your thumbs brush over his cheeks. his smile lingers as you lean in close, and he lets his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting slightly.

and that's when you strike.

SLAP

your hand connects with his cheek, the sound echoing through the room.

jake’s eyes fly open, wide with disbelief. “what the—”

you burst out laughing, triumphant. “i did it! i won!”

jake starts laughing too, shaking his head. "using kisses to win? that’s dirty"

you grin, running off. “i don't care! i’m telling jerry you got slapped by someone with zero combat experience!”

jake blinks as he watches you bolt out the room.

you burst into the room where jerry is, huffing victoriously. "jerry! i did it! i slapped him!”

jerry stares at you, gobsmacked. “no way...you actually slapped boss jake?”

“yes!” you announce proudly, before heading for the door. “and now i'm going to the bakery! i'll be rewarding myself with chocolate cake!”

jerry finds jake on the couch, who's chuckling quietly to himself. “boss… did she really slap you off guard?”

jake leans back, a fond smile on his face. “what do you think? of course not. it was so obvious”

jerry furrows his brows. “then why did you…”

jake watches you tie your laces as you hum a little victory tune, grinning to yourself. his expression softens.

“look how happy she is” jake says, his tone warm. “losing was totally worth it to see that smile”

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[sturn777]

skater!chris x painter!reader . | ( female reader ) ( fluff ) + ( established relationship ) ( masterlist )

lana's note : random idea i had, nothing special just fluff 🤍 they're so cute tho ;(

the living room was chaos, but it was your favorite kind of chaos. sheets of paper covered nearly every inch of the hardwood floor, splattered with abstract sketches and half-dried swatches of various colors. a half-finished canvas rested on the easel in front of you, vibrant streaks of paint bleeding together, your hands moving quickly to fill in the details. brushes were everywhere, some balancing on the rim of your paint palette, others rolling onto the floor as you reached for the next color.

you were in the zone, completely immersed, your mind racing as you tried to finish your final project before the midnight deadline, which was only two hours away. the pressure was intense, but somehow, it didn’t feel overwhelming, not with chris there.

he was sprawled out on the couch, legs stretched out on either side of you, his skateboard leaning against the wall nearby. the faint smell of weed lingered in the air as he took a slow drag from his blunt, the smoke curling lazily around him. every so often, his free hand would come down to run through your hair, his fingers grazing your scalp in a way that made you momentarily forget about the time crunch.

“it looks perfect, baby,” he said softly, his voice a little raspy from the smoke. you hummed in response, not looking up from the canvas but feeling your cheeks heat at the compliment.

“it’s not, though,” you muttered, dabbing a bit of paint on the edge of the canvas to fix a mistake that had been bothering you. “it still feels off. like, something’s missing, but i can’t figure out what.”

chris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you work, his hand rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “it’s just in your head. you’re too close to it right now. step back for a second.”

you sighed but set your brush down, stepping up and standing straight to take in the piece from a different angle. chris was right, it did look better than you’d been giving yourself credit for.

he must’ve noticed the slight shift in your expression because he grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “see? told you. you’re a genius.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “thanks, chris.”

he chuckled, leaning back into the couch again. “you’re welcome, baby. just let me know if you need anythin'…”

“you’re already doing plenty,” you said, glancing back at him. “just… keep sitting there and looking cute or whatever. it’s helping.”

his grin widened. “anything for my favorite artist.”

you turned back to your canvas, feeling the pressure ease just a little. with chris there, the chaos of the deadline didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @beautyloves ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @scream6fanxx ; @amelia-sturniolo3 )

divider : @issysh3ll

[thebisexualdogdad]

could you do something with Sofia Falcone/Gigante where she uses male reader all night as her own personal sex toy??

Sofia Gigante x male!reader

When Sofia called you to come over you knew exactly what it was she wanted from you.

It was the only thing she ever wanted from you and you were more than happy to oblige to her needs.

The night started with her dress on the floor and you between her legs, bringing her to two orgasms with the expert work of your tongue, one on her couch with the other on her kitchen counter.

She grips your hair and tugs you back up to your feet, “take me to my bed. Now Y/N,” she growls, kissing you sloppily to get a taste of herself.

“Yes ma'am,” you mumble into the kiss, wrapping her legs around your waist and hoisting her up.

Stumbling through her home you stop at her door, pressing her firmly into the frame as she pulls your shirt off, tossing it to the ground.

She rubs her slick pussy on your now bare stomach, groaning and leaning her head back letting you nip and suck at her neck.

You finally reach her bed and toss her down, Sofia watching in anticipation as you pull your belt off.

Your pants fall around your ankles and Sofia grins at your erection barely contained by your underwear.

“Making me cum really turns you on doesn't it,” she smirks.

“Why do you think I'm willing to come over at the drop of a hat for you,” you reply, your underwear joining your pants as you step out of them.

Sofia chuckles and you climb on top of her, kissing her again as you raise her hips up and ease your cock inside her.

She grabs your ass as you find a steady motion of your hips, her lips hanging agape at how good you feel inside her.

As much as you wanted to cum you knew you weren't allowed to.

Sofia never let you cum until she was finished so you focused on her, adjusting her hips to find the spot that made her eyes roll back.

Her hands move to your back, nails digging into your skin purposely trying to draw blood.

“Just like that Y/N you're always such a good boy for me,” she sighs, dragging her nails down your back.

The marks she leaves sting but you would take it a hundred times over for Sofia.

Eventually she cums again but she still isn't satisfied so she flips your positions so you're now the one on your back.

She glides her fingers across her stomach and up to her breasts, circling her fingertips over her nipples which makes your cock throb inside her.

“I bet you want to cum don't you handsome,” she says, slowly rolling her hips to taunt you.

“Please Sofia,” you beg.

“Not yet, you're here for my pleasure and don't you forget that,” she grunts, raising her hips so you nearly fall out of her and sinking back down roughly.

“Fuck,” you moan, Sofia repeating the motion before bouncing on your cock more rhythmically.

You attempt to touch her breasts but she swats your hands away, “you only get to watch.”

She has a devilish grin on her lips as she continues her movements, pinching and twisting her nipples which you so desperately wish you were the one doing.

You stare at her in awe completely lost in how beautiful she looked.

She reaches a hand down, rubbing her clit which soon makes her cum for the fourth time while she screams your name.

“Sofia,” you pant when she slumps over in exhaustion and she knows you're about to burst so she decides to put you out of your misery.

“Go ahead and cum Y/N,” she says pushing her messy hair out of her face.

Before she knows it you've flipped your positions once again and hold onto her hips, hastily pounding into her.

Sofia smiles wickedly when she feels you fill her, your hips stilling as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks.

When you finish you pull out and fall next to her on the mattress, trying to catch your breath.

Sofia smiles and leans over to kiss you sweetly, “that was as good as always.”

She gets out of bed and finds her robe, slipping in on.

“I'm going to take a shower I think you know your way out,” she says.

“You don't want me to join you?” You question, sure you were dead tired but if Sofia wanted another orgasm you would always do as she asked.

“Maybe next time,” she says picking your underwear up and handing them to you, “goodnight Y/N, I'll be in touch when I need you again.”

“I'll be waiting for the call,” you tell her.

“I know you will dear and that's why you're my favorite toy to play with,” she says cupping your chin and kissing your forehead.

[the-broken-pen]

Hey can you do one about a villain with teleporting powers

The hero woke up gasping, scrambling upright in bed as the back of their neck tingled in warning. Their eyes darted around the room, blurry, before settling on the far wall.

The villain watched them, idle and unimpressed.

The hero’s lungs, traitorously, forgot how to breathe. They wheezed slightly, one hand clenching onto the blanket, the other sliding underneath the pillow for their knife, where–

The villain hummed, and the hero’s attention snapped back to them at the same time they managed to draw in a painful, terror-addled breath. The villain’s gaze was unnerving as they flipped a knife over their knuckles.

The hero’s knife.

“You,” the hero managed, but they couldn’t think of anything to say, and they were so tired and their pulse was jackrabbiting in their ears.

The villain seemed to know this.

“I warned you,” they said. They didn’t even sound mean about it. Just a gentle reminder–hey, don’t forget to check the mail, hey, it’s your mom’s birthday, hey, can you feed the dog?

‘If you keep interfering, I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth and make you stop. There is nowhere I will not find you. Do you hear me? You cannot run from me, so don’t make me chase you.’

The hero swallowed.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

The villain nodded like they had expected this. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, though, yeah?”

The hero knew the right answer. They knew that the proper response would be to slide off the bed onto their knees, to swear in every language they knew that they wouldn’t do it again. That the villain would be the only one allowed to splash blood onto the streets of their city, and the hero would choke on the pain of doing nothing and stay silent in it.

“You knew I wasn’t going to listen to you,” the hero said, and it was accusatory. The villain shifted slightly. “You had to have known I wouldn’t stop just because you threatened me.”

The villain shrugged one shoulder. 

“Of course I did. If you were the type of person who would have stopped, I would have killed you instead of giving you a warning.”

The hero’s grip tightened on the blanket. “That doesn’t make sense. If I was going to stop then why kill me–”

“I don’t believe in weakness,” the villain interrupted. Their gaze was searching and heavy on the hero’s face, knife still spinning over their knuckles. “Which is why you’re alive, because you have never been weak.”

The hero’s jaw tensed.

“You wanted this.”

The hint of a smile pulled at the villain’s mouth.

“Of course I did. You think I didn’t know you would try and run? You think I didn’t know exactly how you would react the moment I threatened anyone in that cursed city?”

“So you weren’t actually going to kill anyone?”

“Oh, no,” the villain corrected. “Of course I was going to. They don’t matter to me.”

The hero’s stomach turned. 

“Those are people–”

“They’re a drop in an ocean of humanity. You know better than to think I would care about something so trivial,” the villain said.

“They’re not trivial–”

The villain sighed, harsh in the darkness of the room.

“I bore of this. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

The hero jolted back.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The villain sighed again, as if they were dealing with an unruly child and getting a headache for their efforts. It sent the hero bristling like an angry cat.

“There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t find you. You know that, right? There is no end of the line for this. You can drive until you run out of gasoline, until your feet bleed, and you drain your accounts of money. And I will follow, and I will leave every person who helped you nothing more than a stain on the ground, until you decide the trail of bodies isn’t worth avoiding me. Is that really something you want?”

The hero set their jaw, rising to their feet. 

“You won’t find me,” they swore. And the villain–

The villain laughed.

“I know your face. Of course I can find you.”

The hero was missing something, and the lack of knowledge felt like a sword over their head. 

“I don’t–”

“There’s no way you would have known,” the villain said gently, like they knew how much it bothered the hero that they were missing something that was apparently vital. 

They probably did know.

The hero glared.

The villain looked on the verge of another laugh.

“Once I’ve seen a face, I can find a person anywhere in the world. No matter how far. That’s all I need. You could go to the other side of the planet, and I could teleport to you without a second thought.”

The hero gaped.

“Any face?”

The villain paused. “Yes.”

The hero’s throat went abruptly dry.

Any face–

“You could do so much good,” the hero said, and their voice broke slightly. “Do you know how many people you could save? Natural disasters and missing persons cases and–”

“You misunderstand me.”

“You could–”

“I don’t want to do good.”

The hero stopped.

“You don’t want to do good,” they said flatly.

“I am not a good person,” the villain said. “I don’t want to do good. I want power, and I want to do as I please, and I want you.”

The hero was going to be sick on the wooden flooring. They were barefoot, and weaponless, and that fear still ran up their spine.

“I am a person. You cannot have a person.”

“You are a glorious, powerful being,” the villain countered.

“That doesn’t make me less of a person.”

“No,” the villain agreed. “But it does make you something other than trivial. How could I do anything other than want to have that?”

The hero backed up a step.

“You can’t have me.”

The villain matched them, silent even as they stepped forward.

“You plan to run?”

They sounded amused.

The hero supposed that was better than anger.

“Stay over there,” the hero said shakily. The villain obliged, settling their hands into their pockets. Like this was a means to an end. They had flipped to the back of the book and read the ending, and were watching the hero catch up to the scenes they had already seen played out. The villain’s eyes burned into them.

And abruptly, skin going cold, the hero realized there truly wasn’t a way out of this for them.

The villain would never let them be. They could run, like the villain said, and the villain could kill every person who so much as looked their way. They could hide, and stumble through cities and down alleys and the villain would always be around the corner. 

They had little doubt that every other person in this shitty motel was already dead. 

The villain grinned like they could read every thought as it crossed the hero’s face.

“Where will you go,” the villain said. They stepped forward until they were close enough to touch. 

It wasn’t really the sort of question that wanted an answer.

“Everyone else in this building is dead, aren’t they?”

The villain cocked their head, as if to say, Come now, you know the answer to that.

The hero didn’t think they would ever be able to draw a full breath again.

“Where,” the villain said, soft like a secret. “Will you go, little hero?”

It felt like dying. It felt like reaching out to help someone a second too late. A second too slow to catch the building as it fell. The wrong side of a fire before it blew up.

“With you,” they whispered, and the villain smiled wider.

“What was that?”

“You heard me,” the hero snapped, and thrust their hand out. The villain took it without hesitation.

They tugged the hero into them, leaning to slot their mouth next to the hero’s ear. The hair on the back of the hero’s neck stood up.

“You could do so much bad,” the villain whispered, and the hero ground their teeth hard enough to hurt.

Anger flared bright enough to drain every ounce of fear from their body. Because this was the worst case scenario, wasn’t it? What could be lost.

“Every step you make, every blow you deal and fire you start, I’ll be there. And I'll stop you. Again, and again, and again. You want me?” The hero bared their teeth. “Then have me.”

The villain tugged them closer, and laughed.

“I look forward to it,” the villain replied, and then darkness swallowed the both of them whole.

A week later, a team of agents entered the motel to find it coated in blood and the smell of death.

A month later, everyone knew there was a fight of immovable power and unstoppable force shattering its way across the world. 

A year later, the victor panted through a bloody grin, bruised and crackling with vicious unleashed power, and laughed. Because truly, the ending had been on the horizon since the moment the two of them had first met.

[kreate-io]

Yeah, we love whumper who works for a more powerful entity… but also Caretaker who has a mentor/boss?

I mean, consider you have your whumpee post whump, getting all the comfort caretaker could offer. They've been through hell for God knows how long but all that can be forgotten as they watch TV with Caretaker.

All is well, all is at peace, and as the sun sets, they begin to tire… Whumpee's eyelids droop lower… and lower…until sleep claims them softly and mercifully.

Their head lolls against Caretaker's shoulder, alerting Caretaker to Whumpee's passing out. Caretaker, ever caring, gives a warm smile and gently caries Whumpee to bed. Of course, on the way, Whumpee awakens, cradled like a bride in Caretaker's arms. They protest, saying they can walk fine, but they're already being tucked in and sleep isn't quite done with them yet.

Whumpee, on the brink of sleep, mumbles "Goodnight…" as they're claimed by exhaustion again.

"Goodnight, whumpee," Caretaker whisper as they leave the room, shutting the door and engulfing it in darkness.

What a night… Caretaker sighs and slumps against the door. At least Whumpee is safe and sound for now. Though it's only a matter of time till something goes wrong again… they let out a sigh. Things are getting out of hand…

They push themselves off the door and make their way back to the couch with an indescribable sense of dread sitting in their chest. It's another trash bag added to this garbage pile of emotion in their heart. Fear, guilt, inadequacy, it all sits heavy in their chest, suffocating them.

Caretaker plops down onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with another deep sigh. The TV drones on quietly in the background and bathes the room in a depressing, artificial glow. Everything burs into the background of Caretaker's mind, but their eyes, lidded with lethargy, catch something reflective on the coffee table. Their phone.

They can't help but cringe a bit. It's been a while since they last spoke and it would be so weird to just vent call… but Mentor said they were always welcome to do so and, well, something has got to give.

With a deep breath, Caretaker grabs their phone and dials their number.

The phone rings. Once, twice, thrice…

"Hello? This is Mentor. Who am I speaking to?"

Caretaker gulps, "It's me, Mentor." They manage to say, "Do you remember me?"

"Well, 'me' isn't very telling," Mentor teases, chuckling a bit, "tell me your name and maybe I can answer."

"It's Caretaker."

The line is silent for a nanosecond. Caretaker almost repeats themself, then—

"Oh! Caretaker!" Mentor gasps. They sound quite pleased, "Of course, how could I forget, my little apprentice."

Caretaker chuckles, "Yup, that's me…"

"Oh, it's been so long." Mentor points out. Something (presumably a bed) creaks and they let out a soft sigh, "Tell me, tell me, how are you?"

"Well…" Caretaker sighs. It's now or never. They shut off the TV and head to their room, ready for a long night if talking.

[ellitx]

Chapter 22: Foreboding Conundrum

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to: fridaynightcat

warning: slight NSFW content ahead

word count: 9.7k

           A loud jingling could be heard in the room. Usually, Venti left you undisturbed as you slept and you would wake up on your own. Sometimes, if you were the first one to wake up, you’d find him still asleep as well, his arms around you. And if he was the first to wake, he’d kiss your temple and ready himself for the day.

           The jingling continued and it was hard to go back to sleep with all this commotion. You groaned and rubbed your eyelids as you yawned. “Venti? What’s the noise all about—” 

           You were cut off, replacing it with a gasp as something soft squished against your cheek, nuzzling and rubbing into your skin. You backed away and blinked as you focused your vision onto a small white creature floating before you. 

           It was no ordinary floating creature. It was someone you knew well, one who was hard to forget with its small happy chimes, flapping its wings as it twirled around in joy. How could you forget its white form and its signature cute little two sprouts sticking out of its head?

           “Barbatos…?” You sat up and rubbed your eyes. The wind wisp twirled over you and nuzzled your cheek. You cupped him in your hands and looked at him flabbergasted.

           “Good morning,” Venti greeted. He walked to your bed and leaned down, kissing your cheek. “Did you have a good dream?”

           You blinked owlishly as you stared at Barbatos and then at Venti. Were you still dreaming? You rubbed your eyes again and squinted.

           “Venti? Am I dreaming?” 

           The bard laughed and sat next to you. “In this life with you? It feels like a dream come true to me.” Barbatos flew onto his palm and Venti patted his head. The wisp let out a familiar jingling of delight, dancing circles on his hand.

           Venti reached over, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as he smiled softly. “But no, my dear, you’re very much awake,” he reassured you. His emerald eyes sparkled with warmth as he tilted his head toward Barbatos. “Looks like he couldn’t wait to greet you this morning. Isn’t that right, little one?”

           Barbatos jingled again in agreement, flitting around your head before settling back into Venti’s palm. You watched them both, still slightly dazed, before a small laugh escaped your lips. “He’s quite the early riser, isn’t he? Unlike someone I know,” you teased, raising a brow at Venti.

           Feigning mock offense, he placed a hand over his chest. “Ah, your words wound me! I’ll have you know that I’m always up before the sun when it comes to making sure my love has everything she needs.”

           You couldn’t help but chuckle at his dramatic response, shaking your head. “Alright, alright. I was starting to worry when I hadn’t seen Barbatos these past few weeks. He’s always with you, and it’s not often he shows up as my wake-up call.”

           Venti smiled, gently stroking the wisp perched on his palm. “Ah, he’s been resting. I think he missed you more than he let on. Though I can’t blame him for that.”

           You squinted your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “I swear, if you were keeping him from me, I will never forgive you.” 

           His sea-green eyes widened and he waved his hands frantically. “I wasn’t! I swear! Barbatos tell her the truth!” He pleaded to the wisp who nodded and jingled frantically as well. 

           You raised a brow, leaning in slightly to inspect the pair. “Hmm… you both seem suspicious to me.” 

           Venti gasped, clutching his chest as though your words had physically wounded him. “Suspicious? Me? My dear, how could you even think that?!” 

           Barbatos let out an indignant jingle, circling your head in what seemed like an attempt to defend his friend. 

           “You two are terrible liars,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “But I’ll let it slide this time. Only because Barbatos looks too cute to stay mad at.”

           Venti sighed in exaggerated relief, slumping forward. “Oh, thank the winds! I thought I’d be banished from your good graces forever.” 

           You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re impossible.”

           “And yet, impossibly yours,” he quipped, winking at you before holding out his hand. “Now, come on. Today deserves a special start. Breakfast is ready and I was hoping you’d join me.” 

           As you took his hand, he didn’t waste a second lacing your fingers together. He was practically beaming early in the morning, a bright smile lighting up his face that even the sun couldn’t win from such radiance. He tugged you forward, guiding you out of the bedroom. 

           The smell of breakfast wafted through the air— the scent of fresh-baked bread, eggs, and fruits and berries— as you walked into the kitchen. You smiled as your suspicions were confirmed. He must’ve woken up early to prepare this breakfast for you. Still, it was a mystery if today held any special significance for him to go to such lengths and effort.

           A soft tune floated through the air as he hummed happily to himself, setting out the breakfast he had prepared. He pulled out a wooden chair and bowed with theatrical flair.

           “A seat for my lady,” he offered.

           You sat down, smiling and offering your lover a sweet thank you. You felt warmth flooded your chest, his thoughtfulness always bringing a smile to your face.

           He sat down beside you and the pair of you began digging into the meal. As you ate, he filled you in on all that had happened over the past few weeks— from his search for inspiration for his songs and poetry to his newfound interest in wine. You smiled as you listened to his tales, occasionally feeding your wisp friend some berries and petting his tiny head.

           When Venti finished recounting his recent adventures, he rested his chin on his palm, his eyes sparkling as he watched you. "You know, I think I’ve outdone myself with this breakfast. Perhaps I should open a tavern and call it The Bard and His Beloved. What do you think?"

           You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "A tavern? You’re not going to make me perform for the audience, are you?"

           You could still clearly remember the day when you, Venti, Barbatos, and your mother would stay in a tavern to collect intel and hide from the guards. Venti would often bring out his lyre and sing ballads to the patrons while you and your mother admired his beautiful voice. 

           And more often than not, he would pull you to join him, even inviting Amos as he switched his instrument to gittern. You could still hear the slow, enchanting melody he strummed that day, a tune your mother joined effortlessly as if it were second nature.

           From the first few notes that left her lips, you instantly recognized the song. The language was uncommon but you knew the lyrics well by heart. She smiled at you and your lips opened on its own, your voice harmonizing and weaving through the notes effortlessly, complementing her own. 

           You could never forget the way the tavern had fallen silent, the patrons enraptured by the duet between a mother and daughter in such a beautiful, enchanting, and unknown foreign language. Amos always sang that particular song for you as a lullaby when you were little, and oftentimes you’d still ask her to sing it for you as a form of relaxation. Performing it together brought a kind of closeness you hadn’t realized you’d missed.

           You could still picture her radiant smile as she glanced at you between verses, her eyes shimmering with pride. Venti’s accompaniment on the gittern only made the moment more magical as his fingers danced over the strings. A smile tugged your lips as you reminisced the memory, absentmindedly humming the ancient song. 

           Venti’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. "What an enchanting song accompanied by a beautiful voice,” he mused. “If I opened a tavern, I would only have one customer. You’d get the finest songs, the finest wine, and the finest meals. All on the house. How does that sound, windblume?"

           You rolled your eyes playfully, popping a pink berry into your mouth before retorting, "As long as you don’t serve only apples, I might consider it."

           He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Such cruel words! Apples are staples of a fine diet!" Barbatos jingled in agreement, earning a laugh from you. "Looks like even Barbatos is on my side," Venti said with a smirk, sitting back triumphantly.

           "Well, I’ll be the judge of that," you teased, reaching for another slice of bread. 

           The morning continued like this, lighthearted and full of joy, with the three of you basking in the simplicity of the moment. Venti, ever the dreamer, seemed content just to be near you. 

           When everyone finished eating, you insisted on cleaning the table and you didn’t let Venti argue back. 

           “Sit down and relax for once,” you said, pointing at him with mock authority. “You already did all the cooking this morning. Let me handle this, please?”

           Venti pouted and huffed, but his expression softened with pride when you kissed his cheek. You pulled away and scooped up the empty plates. “If you really want to help, you can entertain Barbatos. He looks like he’s about to sneak off with an apple again.”

           At the mention of his name, the wisp jingled innocently and quickly darted behind Venti. The bard chuckled and reached out to pet the small spirit. “Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t try to be chivalrous.”

           As you carried the dishes to the sink, you could hear Venti softly whispering to Barbatos. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile. The sight of your lover gently cradling the wisp made your heart warm and fuzzy. It was strange how the presence of such a small being could evoke such feelings, but Venti always had a way of drawing out emotions and reactions from you that only he could do.

           You hummed the same ancient song again as you washed the dishes. You could feel his eyes on you but you didn't mind. While you were busy, the wisp quietly left the tower, leaving you and Venti alone. 

           The silence was palpable now, and you dried the last plate and put it back to its rightful place. When you looked back, Venti was still sitting at the table, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. His usual confidence was replaced with something more hesitant.

           “Thank you for the delicious breakfast. I’ll start preparing myself and take a bath,” you said, walking past him.

           “Wait!” All of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist. You stopped, looking at him curiously. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. His emerald eyes met yours briefly before darting away. “Do you…” he paused, his voice growing softer than usual. “I was thinking… would you— uh… maybe—“ 

           He faltered, furrowing his brows deeply against his temple before taking a deep breath. Finally, he looked into your eyes directly. “Do you want to… take a bath together?” he finished. 

           You blinked, his words hanging in the air between you. Of all the things he could have said, you hadn’t expected that. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you processed his question, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

           “H-huh?”

  —

             The lake stretched out before you, its crystal-clear waters shimmering under the soft light filtering through the canopy of trees above. The surface rippled gently as a cool breeze swept across it, and the faint scent of wildflowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest. 

           Along the edges, clusters of smooth stones lined the banks, and soft moss blanketed the ground. The water itself was pristine and the faint sound of a distant waterfall added a soothing melody to the tranquility.

           Apart from washing yourself in this lake, you also do the laundry here. It offered clean water and privacy. More than that, it was a perfect combination of nature's beauty and resourcefulness where all necessities intertwined seamlessly.

           You were surprised Venti invited you to take a bath with him. It was a bold invite, but what surprised you even more was how easily you had accepted it.

           It was Venti after all. You had been with him for the longest time and had done more intimate things. How was this any different from what the two of you do? 

           Well, that was what you often said to yourself when you gave in to his pleas.

           The water rippled as the bard stepped into the lake, his tunic placed neatly on top of a rock. He sat behind you, the warmth of his skin against your back made you melt. You let him pull you in, the two of you getting closer and closer. You could feel his heart beating quickly against your back and his breath tickling the top of your head.

           "Venti?"

           "Hmm?"

           You leaned further back and craned your neck so you could look up at him. He tilted his head downwards. His braids were undone as it fell forward, nearly touching your face. His hands snaked over your waist as he gave you a gentle smile. "Are you feeling uncomfortable?"

           You shook your head and turned away as your cheeks warmed. Taking his hand under the water, you laced your fingers through his. He silently watched as you raised them to your lips, then angled your face back up at him.

           “I love you…”

           His heart immediately quickened and a blush bloomed across his cheeks, creeping all the way to the tips of his ears. He was frozen for a moment, wide-eyed, before a giddy, almost bashful smile spread across his face.

           Looks like he wasn’t the only one who felt the same.

           His fingers came to rest on your bare hip feather-lightly, and you shivered as they floated up against your side, barely skimming the dip of your waist.

           “I love you too, windblume…”

           He kissed your head softly, hesitantly, almost in apology, as his hand traveled reluctantly to your sides barely touching the sides of your breasts.

           You jolted in his arms, softly gasping from the contact. You saw his cheeks redden, but his green eyes were tender, vulnerable, filled with longing. Timidly, you rested your arms at your sides, letting your chest bare and free beneath the water as you laid your head on his shoulder, staying quiet but accommodating his silent desire to touch you.

           Slowly and ever so carefully, he gently traced its contours, cupping one mound as his fingers sank into the soft flesh. You whimpered lightly as he squeezed your breast softly, your back pressed against his as goosebumps trailed along the path of his touch. Tentative caresses built courage until his other hand fondled your unattended breast.

           Your eyes fluttered shut at his ministrations, a gasp escaping from your parted lips as you peeked with one eye at how he tweaked and flicked your right nipple. Your heart beat rapidly, and you couldn't help the small moan that escaped from your throat.

           "Hmm..."

           A gushing sound reached your ears and you tried not to squirm. He continued teasing the tip, a trail of water flowing down his slender digits and then swirling on the surface, before returning to its source.

           His nose was back in your hair again, and his mouth dipped slowly to kiss your neck, right on the edge between its back and its side.

           “[Name]?” he asked softly. You hummed signifying him to continue. “Can I?” You didn’t know what he meant but you nodded mindlessly.

           You gasped as he pinched your nipples, and you could feel his member twitch behind you. His hands continued their exploration, traveling down the curve of your waist, then the expanse of your stomach. His fingers splayed against the smooth skin, feeling the softness of your tummy, then downward further, until it came down to rest on your thigh, his fingers softly moving to the inner side of it.

           He shifted a bit, readjusting his arms around you, craning his neck a bit further to rest his chin on your shoulder. You bit your lip as his fingers caressed your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. You felt a bit small next to him, definitely noticing the difference in size. Perhaps he had grown taller. If you recall correctly, your height had been just a few inches shorter than his, but now, he towered over you a little. Your shoulders were about at his chest level, and now your head was slightly below his chin. No wonder why he loved resting his head on top of yours.

           His skin was hot too— so warm it distracted you from the cold water that you could bask in his heat instead. He tenderly kissed your cheek, his soft lips brushing against your skin and leaving a comforting sensation. Then he placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder, tracing the Anemo mark he had implanted onto your back. Venti felt the shiver that ran through you at his intimate caress, savoring how it made you feel, even as it left you feeling lightheaded.

           He hummed, pleased with himself, and continued, a thumb rubbing the hood of your clit while his finger massaged the entrance. You were a writhing mess, gripping his forearms for support as he played with you. He inserted a finger into you, and you bucked against his hand. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the way his chest heaved against your back as his breaths grew more erratic. His movements were slow and patient, and you panted softly with each stroke.

           You sank into the tranquility of the moment, any worries of the day didn't matter, there was only you and him and your precious connection. You settled together wrapped in the embrace shared, feeling the mutual warmth of his body. The silence was soothing and so was his breathing. It made you so drowsy, you could fall asleep then and there. You could hear the furious pounding of his heartbeat. How if you twisted your body, his breath hitched in his throat. It was nice to know that at least his body was always honest with you.

           “Venti…” you called, almost as if you were whimpering. The bard behind you hummed and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

           “Yes?”

           “Sing to me, please…”

           He tilted your head and leaned closer. You could feel yourself clench around his digits, the stretch and the pressure building. The coil inside you was tightening, and you could feel the tension rising in your body. His heart raced to see you so aroused in his arms.

           “What song?” he muttered, his breath fanning over to your lips. Before you could speak, he closed the distance and kissed you. Venti held your cheek lovingly, his thumb brushing your wet skin, and he tilted his head to deepen the intimacy.

           His kiss was tender and loving, yet urgent. Hungry even. For weeks, months, and even years—you did this for each other. Though neither of you put words for it or called it such, it was love. It was the kind that felt both deeply and calmly. It was gentle and comforting, but passionate and full of intensity.

           A small moan came from you and he looked under his lashes to see your face all red. The water may have cooled it off but it still made you warm. His eyes glowed and he let one of his fingers play with your clit one last time before pulling away. Venti kissed you again, never stopping. He could never get enough of you nor does he intend to stop everything right now.

           He turned you to him, the waters splashing as he settled you between his thighs. A small shaky sigh slipped from your delicate lips as his member prodded between your legs, rubbing across your tender folds. 

           He tugged your hair softly, exposing the side of your neck and nibbling at your flesh, kissing you with the most affection. While his lips were occupied, his hand explored more of you, lightly trailing down to your bottom before grasping at it. You gasped sharply and he squeezed the plump flesh tenderly with just enough pressure to make you moan against him. Your hands found refuge on his shoulders and pushed yourself closer.

           Staring up at him with your [eye color] eyes, Venti swallowed the lump sitting on his throat and started rocking your body against him in slow motion. Your breasts moved in the same way, and with every rolling he made, your breath shuddered.

           One hand held your waist for support while the other was on your rear as he rolled you again, rubbing you back and forth along the shape of his shaft, coating him with your wetness. Your mind was a haze and your thoughts were muddled. All you could do was cling onto his shoulders, hoping it would steady you. Digging your nails into his skin, Venti continued to roll you along his length.

         The friction sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body and you pressed your chest against his. Your moans gradually became louder and more frequent as he quickened his pace. Venti groaned as he kept moving, rocking you faster as his hips bucked upwards to meet yours. You sighed shakily next to his ears at the tickling sensation, yet there was a sickening feeling ripping to your throat. You gagged softly, your palms flying up to cover your mouth.

           The water splashed around the two of you as Venti breathed softly and lowly against your skin, still moving your hips back and forth as he slid his length between your folds, too intoxicated to notice your nauseated visage. You swallowed and waited for the sensation leaving your throat to pass, but it refused to do so.

           “Heavens—!”

           Without warning, you pushed Venti away, cutting off your intimacy, and stumbled out of the lake. You barely made it to the shoreline before collapsing to your knees, retching violently. Tears pricked at your eyes as you stared down at the mess before you, your abdomen spasming painfully.

           “[Name]? What’s wrong?!” His panicked voice echoed from the lake. Without second thoughts, he wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed another to bring with him. Reaching your side, he crouched down, his worry evident as he draped the towel over your trembling shoulders.

           “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, tears spilling over your cheeks in shame. “I didn’t mean to…”

           “Shh, it’s alright,” he reassured gently. “I should be the one apologizing… D-Did I go too far?”

           You shook your head. “No, no… I just felt sick all of a sudden…” you mumbled as he patted your back to ease the pain. Your lover frowned and looked at the puddle of vomit. “Did you eat something bad…?”

           You shook your head again but weakly. As you were about to wipe your dirty mouth with the back of your hand, Venti stopped you. Instead, he carefully guided you back to the lake and doused his hand with water to clean your lips.

           “It’s probably just nausea...” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction. Venti’s eyes flicked to the Anemo symbol marked on your back that faintly glowed before a frown etched his face. “We should go back to the tower and have you lie down. You look far too pale.”

           “I’m alright… I’m sorry for worrying you.” You tried to tell him it was nothing to fuss over, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t ease up until he’d seen with his own eyes that you were lying down in bed. Venti slid his arms underneath your knees and back, lifting you with ease despite your protests. 

           “You shouldn’t push yourself. It’s best if you stay inside for a bit until you recover.” You nuzzled against his chest and hummed, pulling the towel close to you to keep you warm. It felt cold all of a sudden.

           “I’m not sure what made me sick, but I’m sure it’ll pass.” Once inside your abode, Venti assisted you in drying off and donning your attire. Once you wore a fresh dress, he put on his usual white chiton. You crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket over to your chest. 

           “I’m sure I checked and tasted all the meals before putting it on the table… Did you eat any of the fruits I left?” he asked.

           “Only those pink berries…”

           Venti hoped that wasn’t the cause… He heaved a sigh before his lips held a ghost of a smile. 

           “Be sure to get some rest, [Name]. If there’s anything you need, please tell me immediately.” He softly kissed the crown of your head whilst his thumb rubbed over your knuckles. The locks of his raven hair tickled your cheeks. 

           He smelled like fresh flowers, the sun’s warmth, and the sweet fragrance of Cecilia flowers. It was such a contrast from the smell of strong, bitter alcohol. 

           Alcohol…

           Your head throbbed causing you to groan and shift in your bed. Silently, you drifted off to sleep. 

  —

             You spent the majority of the morning resting, at Venti’s persistence, even though it had just been a temporary bout of nausea. He even refused to let you leave the bed, which resulted in Venti doing everything by himself. Fortunately, Barbatos was there to accompany you. He was quiet and seemed to understand you weren’t feeling well.

           Though as an alternative that you wouldn’t be bored, your lover stayed next to you. Your head was on his chest, your legs tangled with his, and your arm was draped over his torso. Caressing your long hair, he kissed your head gently and whispered reassurances you would get better soon. You nuzzled closer as he cradled you close to him, occasionally grumbling whenever your chest felt burning, but his arm wrapped around you protectively made you forget it. 

           The lighting in the tower suddenly darkened and a looming shadow blocked the sunlight. You turned and saw large flaming eyes peering through the window. You gasped and screamed as you sat up, instinctively holding onto Venti for dear life. 

           Laughter bubbled from his lips as he gently cradled you closer. “Relax, my love. It’s just Dvalin who wants to visit you,” he reassured. 

           Your wide eyes darted to the window again, where the dragon’s massive form tried to peer in more closely, his head nudging against the small frame. “I told Barbatos to inform him of your condition. He’s also worried and wants to check up on you.” 

           The dragon pushed its head again onto the small window, before realizing it was pointless due to his large size. The same large blue flame eye peered through the hole, searching for you to see how you were doing, but Barbatos blocked his view, who was angrily scolding Dvalin who disrupted your rest. 

           The dragon huffed and you swore you felt the tower shake as you tightly held onto Venti. Dvalin’s clumsy attempt to see through the small window was almost endearing, and despite your initial fright, you felt a sense of comfort knowing even a creature as mighty as him cared for your well-being.

           “Uh, just stay outside, Dvalin. We’ll come out to you,” the bard said. The dragon rumbled softly in acknowledgment, backing away and finally allowing the sunlight to stream back into the room. Without a word, Venti’s hands slipped beneath your legs and carefully scooped you up from the bed.

           You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he carried you down the spiral stairs and out of the tower with Barbatos following behind. Once outside, he brought you to a lush field of flowers. Placing you gently on the soft ground, you noticed Dvalin nestling on the field and patiently waited for your group to settle. 

           Turning back to Venti, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you murmured softly.

           But your lover, ever so dramatic, pouted and pointed to his lips. “You missed,” he said with a mock sigh. You giggled and indulged him, kissing him on the lips just as he’d asked. The kiss lingered, longer than usual, enough to satisfy his whims. 

           Just as you began to pull away, Venti’s hands gently found their way to the back of your neck, holding you in place to prolong the moment. You melted against him, completely lost in his warmth, until you were abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched jingling and the sudden presence of a dragon’s snout nudging its way between you both. 

           The unexpected intrusion broke the moment, leaving you flustered and Venti laughing softly as Dvalin huffed, seemingly disapproving of being ignored for too long. He pushed Venti aside with little effort, while Barbatos floated over and dove straight toward you, nuzzling your face affectionately. The wisp’s enthusiasm sent you tumbling back onto the grass. 

           “Barbatos! Stop! I’m ticklish there!” you squealed, laughing as the tiny being squished its face against your cheek. Before you could recover, Dvalin decided to join in. He lowered his head and gave your face a wet lick.

           “Hey! Back off, both of you!” Your lover cried, rushing to your side and wrapping his arms protectively around you. He glared at the two troublemakers. “[Name] is mine!”

           But his protests fell on deaf ears. Dvalin swung his head, accidentally— or perhaps on purpose— sending Venti flying across the field like a rag doll. 

           “Aaaghh!!!” he screamed. You gasped, your hands hovering over your mouth as you watched him tumble through the flowers. Barbatos jingled joyfully, floating beside Dvalin like a triumphant little accomplice.

           You laughed as you reached up to scratch the dragon’s neck, your fingers brushing over his coarse scales. “You are very big…” you said in awe, your gaze following the span of his wings.

           From somewhere off to the side, Venti’s voice rang out. “I’m bigger!” 

           Your face immediately turned bright red, realizing his words. “V-Venti!” you stammered, your embarrassment clear as you avoided his gaze.

           Dvalin snorted, clearly unimpressed, and gave Venti another flick with his snout, sending the bard sprawling again. Unbothered, the dragon settled his head onto the grass, rumbling happily as you continued to stroke his face.

           It wasn’t long before all three of them were vying for your attention. The scene was so chaotic and endearing that you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Hearing your soft chuckle, the trio immediately halted their antics, turning toward you with curious expressions.

           You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning at their adorable competitiveness. “Alright, alright, there’s enough of me to go around.”

           Venti grinned and puffed out his chest, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, gentlemen, if it isn’t obvious, I am in the first line. Lover first before dragons and wisps,” he proclaimed with an air of exaggerated pride. Just as he was about to stride confidently back to your side, he was once again casually swept by Dvalin, turning his head back to you as if it were nothing.

           “You insolent dragon—!” Venti huffed, shaking a fist in the air as he tried to regain his composure.

           Before the bard could launch into another tirade, a deep, resonant voice interrupted, startling you. “You have had your time with the lady, day and night. Is it not fair that we, too, desire to see her and ensure her well-being?”

           The words came from right beside you, and you froze in shock, your eyes wide as you searched for the source. It wasn’t Venti or Barbatos, and Dvalin’s great maw was far too still to have spoken. It wasn’t until the dragon’s deep, rumbling chuckle followed that it clicked— the voice belonged to Dvalin himself.

           “D-Dvalin?” you stammered, blinking in disbelief. You had always speculated the dragon to be some sort of a guardian, a force of nature, and a majestic creature, but to hear him speak directly to you was an entirely different experience.

           You had almost forgotten that he could speak, though you vaguely recalled hearing his voice before. But since when had he spoken to you directly? Blurry fragments of memory swam in your head, yet the longer you think of it, the more your head throbbed with a dull ache. His glowing eyes softened as they met yours, and his voice, though commanding, was surprisingly gentle. It pulled you out of your train of thought that would otherwise bother you for the rest of the day.

           Dvalin rumbled with a slight nod, lowering his head closer to your level. “You are important to all of us, Lady [Name]. Your strength and presence are deeply cherished.”

           Behind you, Venti scrambled to his feet, dusting off his tunic with huffs. “Oh, so now he speaks,” he muttered under his breath. “And here I thought dragons were supposed to be silent protectors.”

           Dvalin huffed a warm breath that rustled Venti’s hair. “And here I thought bards were supposed to be humble,” he retorted, his tone laced with amusement.

           You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the playful banter between the two easing the tension. Barbatos jingled happily by your shoulder, floating in circles as though cheering and reminding you he was still there. For now, it seemed you were at the center of a tug-of-war between your lover, a wisp, and a dragon— all of them determined to keep you smiling.

           As promised, each of your companions would get equal attention on what they’d like to do for the day. Barbatos was the first one, much to Venti’s shock, and from his words he felt “betrayed” the wisp was hogging all your attention. Though he couldn’t truly be mad at him, and neither was Dvalin, since he was practically away for who knows how long when you were in deep sleep.

           Your little companion jingled joyfully, beckoning you toward the lake. He perched on your shoulder for the journey, his little chimes ringing and echoing through the surroundings.

           Once you arrived, he left your shoulder and floated over the water’s surface. The still waters rippled as the winds gradually began to dance around him. The three of you silently watched in awe and your eyes widened as the waters surrounded him in a spiral, forming the shape of a helix that gradually rose higher and higher. In a burst, the waters popped, showering you all with light, sparkling drizzles.

           You clapped, your smile wide with delight whilst Venti silently smiled at Barbatos’ performance. For a little creature like him, there was still so much mystery in the magic he held.

           Now that you think of it, didn’t he hold some important position? You thought deeply, wondering where you had recalled that memory. Barbatos's jingles cut off your train of thought, clearly basking in the applause offered by his audience. The droplets glistened like diamonds in the sunlight as Venti chuckled softly, crossing his arms as he leaned toward you.

           "Impressive, Barbatos," Venti said, his tone was playful yet it held a hint of mockery. "But don’t you think you're showing off a bit too much? Not everyone has the luxury of turning water into sparkles, you know."

           The wisp chimed a giggle, clearly unfazed by Venti’s comment. Instead, Barbatos floated down to the lake’s surface again, spinning in place like he was stirring the water. Ripples danced outward and you tilted your head, curious about what the little wind wisp was up to. Venti, on the other hand, was busy trying to get your attention as he began talking about his plans for the rest of the afternoon.

           Before you could react, Barbatos launched himself toward Venti, dragging a sudden wave of water with him. It splashed directly onto the bard, drenching him from head to toe. Venti yelped in surprise, flailing as the cold water soaked through his white robe and dripped from his hair.

           "Barbatos!" he sputtered, his voice rising in a high-pitched whine. "You cheeky little troublemaker!"

           You couldn’t hold back your laughter, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. The sight of Venti standing there, completely soaked and utterly dumbfounded, was far too amusing. Barbatos jingled again, this time in what you could only interpret as triumphant mischief.

           Venti’s eyes narrowed playfully. "Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?" Without another word, he scooped up a handful of water and flung it back at Barbatos, who zipped away just in time to avoid being hit. Unfortunately for you, Venti’s aim was a bit wide, and the splash ended up soaking you instead.

           "Venti!" you gasped, wiping the water off your face. He froze, realizing what he had done, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his apology.

           "Oops," he said with a smirk, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. You didn’t let him get away with it. Scooping up some water of your own, you splashed it right at him.

           "So it’s war, is it?" your lover declared, a wide grin spreading across his face. He scooped up more water, and before you knew it, the performance had turned into the stage for an all-out water fight. 

           Barbatos joined in as he created small splashes while Venti tried to shield himself from your attacks, laughing and splashing right back. The area was filled with the sound of laughter and water splashes as the little wisp darted around you and Venti, his jingles blending with your laughter. You were so caught up in the playful chaos that you didn’t notice the massive shadow looming over the lake. Dvalin, who was perched a short distance away, had been quietly observing the scene. His massive head tilted slightly as he watched the three of you frolicking in the water. Despite his stoic nature, it was clear he felt left out. 

           The dragon huffed softly, then without a sound, he raised one of his massive claws. The shadow it cast grew larger, stretching over the lake and your small group. It wasn’t until Venti noticed the growing darkness that he realized what was about to happen.

           "W-w-wait, Dvalin, don’t—!" Venti stammered, his hands shooting up in a futile attempt to stop the dragon. But it was too late. With a flick of his claw, Dvalin slammed it down gently against the edge of the water, causing a massive splash to surge outward like a tidal wave. 

           The sheer force of it sent water flying everywhere and the wave hit you square on, knocking you backward into the shallow water. You closed your eyes tightly and braced yourself, using your arms to shield you from the impact until the waters calmed down.

           You heard Barbatos buzzing around in a jingling frenzy, clearly disheveled. As you opened your eyes, the sanctuary seemed to turn silent as a pair of deep green eyes bored into your own [eye color] ones. Venti was in front of you, his hair clinging to his face as it glistened with droplets of water.

           His arms were planted firmly on either side of you, elbows sinking slightly into the lake floor as his fingers steadied to anchor himself. He must’ve pushed you aside to save you from the large wave. You could feel the resistance of the water against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the rush of heat flooding through your chest at his gaze.

           He didn’t move, nor did he speak. He simply stared at you, his expression unreadable yet entirely captivating. His eyes traced over your face, memorizing every curve, every detail, as though he were seeing you for the first time and falling all over again. The soft rise of his chest and the tension in his shoulders spoke louder than words could.

           Your heart was caught in your throat as a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sun or the water surrounding you. The distant jingles of Barbatos, the rustle of leaves, the faint huffs of Dvalin, it all blurred into the background. All you could focus on was him.

           Slowly, he leaned closer, the rippling water parting softly around him as he moved. Every inch forward felt deliberate as his damp hair casted faint shadows on your face. Your breath hitched as his face drew nearer, the curve of his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

           And yet, you didn’t back away. The tips of his fingers dug slightly into the lake floor as his nose brushed yours, his damp locks brushing against your forehead. Slowly, just a few centimeters away, his lips ghosted over yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as Venti closed the gap and— 

           A loud, high-pitched jingling cut through the air like a bolt of lightning. Startled, both you and Venti froze, the moment shattering as the familiar buzzing of Barbatos grew impossibly louder. Before either of you could react, the tiny wisp darted directly between your faces with frantic jingles.

           You blinked in surprise, your lips parting in shock as the wisp circled Venti's head like an overzealous guardian. Venti let out a groan, his expression shifting from soft, loving adoration to exasperation as he sat back on his heels, his hands dragging through his damp hair. 

           “Barbatos…” he muttered under his breath, his tone had a tinge of annoyance masked by a forced playful tone. The wisp continued its jingling tirade, completely unrepentant, as he floated down to bop against your forehead to chastise you as well.

           Your cheeks burned up as you looked away, wringing your damp hair and the fabric of your soaked dress between your fingers. The awkwardness of the situation wasn’t lost on you, especially with Dvalin’s narrow, unblinking eyes fixed intently on you from where he lay in the field. You swore the dragon’s gaze held a hint of amusement, which only made it harder to look at him or the mischievous wisp still jingling about.

           Meanwhile, Venti had resorted to squishing the poor wisp between his hands, tugging at his small sprout-like top as Barbatos flailed and jingled indignantly, attempting to flee from his friend’s clutches. 

           Before you could dwell on your own embarrassment any further, Dvalin, who had been watching silently, unfurled his wings, causing the air around you to swirl. The moisture evaporated from your skin and clothes. Within moments, you were completely dry, though your hair was a bit tousled from the breeze.

           Venti ran his fingers through his now-dry hair to smooth it out. He looked up to Dvalin and placed a hand on his claw affectionately. 

           “Thanks for drying us off.”

           Dvalin rumbled contentedly in response. Your lover turned back to you, brushing a few stray strands of your hair from your face. “Let’s head back to the tower. We need to change into something comfortable, otherwise you’ll get sick again.”

           Without waiting for your reply, Venti took your hand and helped you to your feet. You followed him back to the tower, the playful chatter of Barbatos and the occasional rumble from Dvalin accompanying you along the way.

           Once inside, Venti insisted you change into something warm and dry. He handed you a towel and one of your cozier outfits before grabbing his own spare fresh clothes and disappearing to give you privacy to change. 

           Once you had dressed up, you headed to the kitchen. Your eyes locked on the basket of apples sitting near the windowsill, and then an idea struck you. Picking up the basket, you made your way outside where Barbatos and Dvalin were waiting. 

           The wisp jingled excitedly at the sight of the juicy red apples, circling you in giddy anticipation. You chuckled at his excitement and reached into the basket and handed him a small piece, which he immediately devoured with happy chimes. Dvalin lowered his head patiently waiting as you reached for another apple and offered it to him.

           He took it delicately between his teeth which he quickly swallowed. He eyed the basket behind you and to the small wisp who was still munching on his own apple. Recognizing what he wanted, you heaved the basket close to him and clasped your hands together.

           “Well, since you dried us off, you deserve a treat!”

           The dragon took the basket between his teeth and chugged all the apples, throwing the basket aside as he munched on the juicy fruit. He let out a pleased rumble and laid down on the grass.

           The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see Venti in a loose white tunic paired with shorts that stopped a little above his knees. Though, unlike his usual outfits, there was a hood attached to this one.

           “Love, lunch is ready.”

           Venti approached and wrapped his arm around your waist as he observed the wisp and the dragon.

           “You had me worried when you weren’t responding to me…” he pouted as he turned to you. You giggled and pinched his round cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t see you either when I went to the kitchen to grab the apples. I’m more surprised you quickly prepared something.”

           Venti’s smirk widened as he straightened up, gently tugging your hand to guide you back inside. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises,” he quipped.

           As you walked together, Barbatos jingled along, and Dvalin rumbled softly before curling back down on the field, content with his fill of apples.

           Inside the tower, the aroma of a warm meal greeted you. The table was set with a bowl of steaming chowder, grilled fish, and hash browns. You took a seat beside Venti who was already helping himself to the food he had prepared. 

           There was something about eating a home-cooked meal in these peaceful fields that warmed your belly like nothing else. After being bedridden in the morning, spending time with the boys had left you starving. 

           But not today. You had been sure that the nausea would pass immediately, but upon inhaling the freshly cooked food, your stomach just dropped. All at once, your stomach twisted violently and the nausea was back with a vengeance. You stood up abruptly, startling Venti. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you quickly dashed toward the sink.

           You tried to hold yourself together, but the burning sensation in your throat became unbearable, and soon found yourself hunched over, purging the contents of your stomach that mirrored the events of the morning. 

           You heard the wooden chair scraped against the floor as Venti rushed over, a hand brushing your back in soothing motions as you continued retching. The acidic burn in your throat made tears well up in your eyes and you turned on the faucet to wash away the remains.

           You felt utterly drained.

           “I-I’m sorry,” you gasped, sinking to your knees as exhaustion overtook you. “I’m so sorry. After you went through all the trouble of preparing this… My stomach isn’t cooperating with me today.” Your voice trembled as you wiped your mouth with a napkin and discarded it. 

           Venti handed you a glass of water to soothe the burning in your throat. His jaw was set tight, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by visible concern. He abandoned the unfinished meal entirely and knelt down beside you as he continued rubbing your back.

           “Don’t be sorry,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand up, guiding you as gently and carefully as he could while your legs wobbled. “Barbatos, prepare tea for her. I’ll help [Name] get to her room.”

           The wisp jingled and hovered over to the basket of herbs, using its powers to prepare the said drink. You gave Venti a weary smile as he heaved you off the floor, carrying you once again for the nth time in his arms. It must have been tiring for him to carry you over and over.

           “You didn’t have to carry me... I can go there myself,” you said in a low voice, but Venti narrowed his eyes. 

           “Nonsense. You’re sick and I can’t leave you alone.” He ascended the stairs with ease and once he reached the familiar wooden door, he pushed it open with his body and carefully settled you down on the mattress.

           Not long after, Barbatos came in with a cup hovering above his head. Venti took it and petted his head before sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the tea. Without a word, you laid your head on his shoulder as you let the warm cup distract you from your unease. His free hand instinctively held yours as you leaned against him, offering silent reassurance. His fingers lightly traced circles on the back of your hand grounding you in the moment. You closed your eyes, your brows furrowing as you pushed away the twisting in your stomach.

           The steam from the tea curled upward, carrying the faint, soothing aroma of herbs, easing the tension in your chest as you brought the cup closer to your lips. The silence was comforting as you sipped the tea. Its warmth spread through your body, and though it didn’t fully erase the discomfort twisting in your stomach, it was enough to make you feel a little less fragile. 

           You tilted your head slightly, your eyes catching Venti’s expression. His usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a quiet seriousness as he studied your face for any sign of further distress. Barbatos jingled softly nearby before settling himself on the nightstand. You gave the little wisp a small, grateful smile before returning your gaze to Venti. His teal eyes reflected nothing but care and an unwavering resolve to see you through this.

           He scanned over the teal marks imprinted onto your skin, deeply lost in his own thoughts while he continued to caress your hand. You placed the still-full tea onto the nightstand and your movements momentarily ceased his pondering. 

           As he watched you shift beneath the blankets, his concern didn’t waver when you pulled the blanket up to your shoulders. Even while the sun was still out, the teal marks on your skin glowed recognizably to his eyes. To mere humans, the glow would have been faint and easy to miss, but for Venti, the brightness brought a new vivid essence to the hues of the ordinary.

           “I think I’ll try to sleep. Even if it’s only for a little while,” you murmured, your voice soft and weary.

           Venti nodded, his eyes gentle as he tucked the edges of the blanket around you, making sure you were snug and comfortable. “That’s all I ask, songbird,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. 

           His words carried a tenderness that fluttered your heart. As you closed your eyes, you felt the gentle press of his lips on your forehead, lingering just long enough to calm your mind and discard the stress that was brewing.

           “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he whispered against your skin, his hand returning to rest atop yours. 

           Though the ache in your stomach hadn’t entirely subsided, his presence eased the growing discomfort. You nestled deeper into the blanket, his steady breathing filling the silence. Slowly, exhaustion began to pull you under. Your eyes fluttered shut as darkness enveloped you. Despite the chances of a peaceful rest were slim, you still took the opportunity to recover.

  —

             The night had been torture. You were unable to get a wink of sleep, tossing and turning and feeling just as nauseous as you’d been throughout the day. You felt bad for waking Venti in the middle of the night, occasionally leaving the room to get yourself water to rid of the uncomfortable sensation. Once he saw how tired you looked, he wrapped an arm around you and sang a soft lullaby as a way to calm you.

           He didn’t let himself close his eyes, not until he saw you asleep before him. It helped quite a bit, but it regrettably affected his own sleep. He couldn’t be too angry, though, especially when he had you in his arms, snuggled up against him with his chest as your pillow. You held onto him tightly, afraid he might leave.

           Venti could never deny you the warmth or the safety, especially when you were sick. When morning arrived, you had the worst wake-up call. The unwelcome churn in your stomach greeted you once more and the burning sensation in your throat flared up, making your breath hitch as you scrambled out of bed.

           You immediately reached for the bucket Venti had prepared the night before as you hunched over it, retching with weak, shuddering coughs. The commotion startled Venti awake. He bolted upright and saw you in the corner hunched over. Immediately, he rushed to your side, his expression twisting with concern as he crouched beside you. 

           Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel relieved he had thought to prepare the bucket. Otherwise, you would have found yourself in the middle of the hardwood floor. Gentle fingers swept the hair off of your forehead, keeping it up and out of the way as Venti waited for the bout to finish. With one last cough, you exhaled, catching your breath as sweat formed on your brow.

           "Sorry..." You managed weakly, earning a distressed frown from your lover. 

           He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Shhh, no need to apologize,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with worry. You weren’t burning hot. He then checked your pulse next, finding nothing alarming, though the furrow in his brow didn’t ease. 

           Then, he froze. From the corner of his eye, the faint teal glow beneath your clothing caught his attention again. Faint in the light of dawn yet bright enough for him to notice. His chest tightened as he sat down beside you, taking your hands in his own.

           “Close your eyes for a moment,” he requested gently.

           You hesitated but obliged, squeezing your eyes shut. He asked a series of questions and though his tone was calm, you faintly sensed he was wavering. “Have you felt any burning sensation in the past few days?”

           “No,” you murmured.

           “Headaches? Indigestion?”

           You nodded faintly, still too weak to speak much. As you answered, a soothing breeze kissed your skin. It wasn’t cold, nor was it warm— it was perfectly neutral, enough to ease the growing tension in your body as it brushed over your back and stomach.

           “Alright, you can open your eyes now,” he finally said.

           When you did, you were met with Venti’s distant gaze. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his hand rested over his mouth as if he were lost in thought. You tilted your head, worry seeping into your voice.

           “Venti? Is it… bad?”

           His teal gaze snapped back to yours, and a soft smile graced his lips. “No, no, nothing bad,” he reassured, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease completely.

           Standing, he offered you a hand and gently guided you back to the bed. “I’ll make breakfast. For now, you should rest.”

           Venti lingered at your side longer than you had expected. His hand held yours firmly and his eyes flicked repeatedly to the faint glow of the teal marks on your skin. Silence hung heavy in the air, and just as you opened your mouth to ask what was on his mind, he knelt down, clasping your hands in his.

           “[Name]…” he began, but a long silence stole his words. He paused, seemingly debating his next words. Instead, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Pulling away slowly and reluctantly, he caressed your hand with his thumbs, rubbing your skin gently back and forth.

           “After breakfast, I’ll be outside for a while,” he finally said, but hesitation was evident in the way his hands lingered over yours. “It won’t take long.”

           You blinked in confusion and it made it hard for him to look at you. Archons, he didn’t want to leave you alone here. The expression in your eyes reminded him of the time you were pleading to his friend to stay with you. 

           It was a hard choice for him. Herbs and tea wouldn’t help much for your recovery, and if things get serious that would drastically affect your life, he’d blame himself if he lost you— the only person in his life who was still with him and loved him so dearly. 

           You looked away and he felt his heart crack when you didn’t give a single objection to his remark. Your fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress and your wrist as you contemplated his words. 

           He cupped your cheek and gently turned you to him. “[Name], I promise I’ll be back soon. I won’t be late, okay? Do not leave beyond the borders. You have to wait for me no matter what, alright, my love? I have to take care of something first but I will come back. Promise me you will not do anything dangerous, and you have to eat. Alright, darling?”

           His worried and distraught tone surprised you. You had never seen him like this before… The only time he had been this frantic was when you were nearly attacked by the guards during an infiltration. You placed your hand on one of his hands cupping your cheek and nodded. “A-alright. Just come back soon, okay?”

           His chest felt a bit lighter and he couldn’t help but give you a peck on your forehead. He leaned his forehead against yours and let out a sigh. You have always been good and patient with him. Venti didn’t deserve you. You were too good for him. No wonder why he was lucky to have you. 

           With one last lingering kiss to your temple, he pulled away and stood. His hands hesitated at his sides before finally falling away, as though forcing himself to sever the connection. 

           “Barbatos and Dvalin will be here. They’ll keep you safe,” Venti reassured, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.  

           The small wisp jingled in affirmation, floating closer to you protectively. Venti gave Barbatos a small nod before turning toward the door, his steps slow and hesitant. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning over you as though memorizing every detail before he finally stepped out.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Kyle x gn!reader This one is for all my chronically ill readers. There is no mention of what exactly the reader struggles with, there's only symptoms mentioned. Whatever bitchy little sickness has it's clutches on you. You're so much stronger. You fight every day even when you don't feel like it and I'm proud of you. Never forget that you are loved and deserve softness and care. You do not need to earn love or care to deserve it. It doesn't matter whether some days or all days look something like in this story. You're worthy and your life is worth living. I'm glad you exist. I'm sending Kyle to take care of you. Please point out to me if I messed the gn! part up anywhere. Content/Symptoms: hurt/comfort, reader can't stand up or move much, feelings and thoughts of shame and inadequacy, crying, exhaustion, taking a bath, unability to eat, unability to shower

Kyle will be so disappointed in you. He will be back today and you’re in bed. He wrote you this morning that he’s boarding the plane and can’t wait to see you again. You can’t wait too, but at the same time you wish his plane would get delayed or he’d have to go on another mission.

Anything so you can pull yourself back together before he sees you. Anything to give you just a little more time to be able to pretend like you’re a normal functioning human being. But at the same time the only thing you want is Kyle and his gentle hands.

You try to will yourself to get up but your body feels so heavy that the only thing you achieve is tears welling up in your eyes. Why is this so difficult? You only want to sit up. Why can’t you even do that? When was the last time you showered?

He can’t see you like this. You can’t let him see you like this. You can’t have him come home to you in bed barely able to bear the strain of breathing and being alive.

Sure he knows, but knowing and seeing, experiencing you like this are two completely different things. The shame settles in your stomach, hot and biting and now you’re really crying. Crying from the exhaustion of trying to get your body to do something while it doesn’t even move a millimeter and from the shame of probably smelling bad and looking like an absolute mess.

The last time you ate was two days ago, but you’re not even hungry. How pathetic, that you can’t even manage the bare necessities.

Normally you’d be cooking something for Kyle’s return, but you traitorous body won’t even let you sit up. Cooking is out of the question.

You take your phone in hand again and check the time. Kyle didn’t say when exactly he’d be back, it could be any moment. Now if only you could get up, so you can make yourself at least appear more or less normal. You can make up some excuse as to why you didn’t cook but if you at least manage to pretend like you’re fine then Kyle can’t be disappointed.

That’s the moment you hear the lock on the front door opening and adrenaline shoots through you, the shame making you pull the blanket over your head and hide. It’s futile, he will find you. But maybe you can pretend like everything is okay and you just slept in. Maybe you can pretend for a few seconds longer that there’s another reason why you’re in bed.

“Baby?” You can hear the confusion in his voice and a silent sob escapes you. This is the first time you haven’t ran to him as soon as he opened the front door. This is the first time you haven’t immediately wrapped him in your arms and clung to him.

You hear the bedroom door open and he walks in. Of course he immediately notices you in bed and he sits down beside you. The mattress dips, making you slide a bit closer to him. Gentle hands pry back the blanket and his beautiful face comes into view, brows furrowed. You barely resist the urge to hide again.

“Hi, baby.” He murmurs and you break, loud sobs breaking out of you.

Immediately Kyle gathers you in his arms. His strong arms crush you to his chest and your fingers crumple his shirt between them, grabbing onto him. You hide your face in his neck and cry harder because he can surely smell that you haven’t showered. He’s probably disgusted.

One of his broad palms begins to calmly stroke up and down your back while he shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, pretty. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He holds you a few minutes until the sobs have calmed down to slight sniffles and hiccups. His warm palms cup your face and he holds you to look into your eyes, making sure you don’t turn your face away from him.

“What is it? What happened? Did someone hurt you?” He questions, gaze switching between your eyes as if the answers to all his questions can be found there if he catches the right moment.

You shake your head and look down. He’s still studying you and when he sees your bottom lip tremble his thumb immediately strokes over it gently, trying to ease the tension.

You hate how thin and hoarse your voice is when you answer. “It’s the things I told you about…. Where I can’t stand up and stuff…” You trail off, hoping he won’t need more of an explanation. Somehow the thought of having to explain it out loud again makes you want to shrivel up and die.

The light bulb going off over his head is practically visible and he gently smiles at you. His lips briefly find your forehead. “I remember, baby. Anything I can do?”

You helplessly shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. I wanted to cook for you. Wanted to clean the apartment and smell good and be good and I messed it all up, but I can’t. I’m just so – I can’t…” Another sob tears from your throat but your tears have run dry. There isn’t even enough strength left to outwardly show your emotions.

He pulls you close again, swaying to a slow rhythm only he can hear. The motion is calming, repetitive and you find yourself relaxing just the slightest bit. “Shhh, it’s okay. Coming home to you is enough.”

He keeps holding you for a few long moments and you breathe him in. Warm, clean, safe, Kyle.

“I’ve got a proposal for you, pretty.” He mutters against your scalp and you try not to think about how bad you probably smell, cringing a bit at the thought of how oily it probably is.

“Hm?” Is all you can get out. Your eyes are drifting close, exhausted from all the emotions.

“Let’s take a bath together. I’ll prepare it and carry you there and everything. We can order take out and then spend the entire evening on the couch.”

You nearly cry again at how exhausting that sounds. Tears gathering in your eyes as you imagine what he just proposed. But you want to try, so you nod against his chest and he gently pries you off him.

“I’ll be right back, baby.”

You sink back against the mattress, exhausted. The guilt rolling over you like waves, again and again. The only shelter you have from it are Kyle’s soothing words and you tell yourself again and again, that you’re enough.

When you look up Kyle is already back, standing in the doorway and watching you. Despite what you expect there’s a small smile on his lips. You didn’t say anything but Kyle’s voice rings out.

“No, baby. You’re not a burden. I knew about this. I’m glad to have you here.”

You’re too tired to fight the tears gathering and raise your arms in his direction, making grabby hands at him and he laughs. “Come here, baby.”

His arms go around you and without any sign of strain he lifts you up and starts carrying you to the bath. You press little kisses against his neck as thanks while he does, brush your nose against the soft skin on his neck and a boyish giggle escapes him. “That tickles, darling!”

A tired grin makes it’s way onto your face and you do it again just to hear him giggle again. You squeal as Kyle gets on his knees in the bathroom and unceremoniously lowers you into the tub. With your clothes still on. The water is heavenly and receives you like a warm embrace.

You blink up at him, mouth open and he laughs.

“Payback is a bitch.” You slightly splash him with water and he gapes at you. “Hey! How dare you! Just you wait until I’m in there with you.”

He rips his clothes off and you let your gaze wander appreciative over his skin. How any man is allowed to look that good is a mystery to you.

He kneels next to the tub, butt ass naked, and helps you peel off your own clothes. The water sloshes in the tub as he gets in behind you and draws you closer between his legs until your back is against his chest.

He presses a soft kiss against your temple and starts humming. You settle against him, feeling your body relax. The warm water is soothing around you both and you find the tension and shame slowly uncurling.

You take one of Kyle’s hands and he holds it up for you as you compare the size of his hand to yours for a moment. Then you intertwine your fingers.

When you bring them up to your mouth and kiss his knuckles you can feel the deep sigh he heaves against your back.

If there is true calm on this earth it’s here, wrapped in Kyle’s arms as he holds you at your lowest.

“I love you.” He mumbles behind you.

“I love you too. I’m sorry.” You answer quietly.

“Don’t apologize, love. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know my words won’t magically change how you feel. But I swear, that I don’t mind this. You’re not a burden. Sure, I don’t like seeing you like this, but it’s not because I don’t want to deal with it. It’s because I want you to be well. But I’ve got you, no matter what. I’ve got you and I don’t want anyone else.”

[ceresun]

going to the yule ball with them

pairings : g. weasley x gn! reader, d. malfoy x gn! reader, n. longbottom x gn! reader

extra : these are some headcanons I posted on one of my old blogs but have been rewritten! I will try and post more because I genuinely do love writing and I want to do more of it this year. If anyone could send in requests though it would be great!

neville longbottom :

when asking you to the yule ball, he’d definitely be quite nervous! part of him actually considers just not asking you at all and hoping some miracle would happen and you’d ask him instead. when he finally does gather up some courage to ask you, he’ll be fidgeting with his robes the whole time. it’s quite cute!

part of him didn’t expect you to say yes, so when you did he let out an audible gasp. honestly, if you hadn’t said yes he would’ve dug up a hole and buried himself alive out of embarrassment. but luckily you accepted!

on the night of the ball, he’d be up in your house’s common room waiting for you to come down from your dorm so you two can walk to the great hall together. but when he sees you he’s honestly quite speechless. he’d comment on how nice your outfit is and is basically all heart eyes from then on. he’s just wondering how he bagged a baddie lolz.

when he finally pulls you onto the dance floor, he’d just be a nervous mess. he’s constantly worrying that he’ll mess up or accidentally step on your feet. luckily he practiced quite a lot, so the chances of this happening are slim.

throughout the night he’d make it his goal to be a gentleman to you all night. there’s this specific scenario of him that i see when ii think of him and his date is that, if you were to wear heels and feel uncomfortable in them after the ball was over, he wouldn’t hesitate to give you his shoes. he doesn’t mind if he has to walk back in only his sock on the cold castle floors as long as it means you’re comfortable </3.

overall, he is quite a gentleman and if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion i would give him a 10/10! :3

george weasley :

out of both of the weasley twins, i’d like to think that fred is a tad bit more outgoing. although fred didn’t exactly do something flashy for when he asked angelina, i’d like to think he would have. so, this sort of leads me to believe that george would go for something not as flashy as something fred would do. i just know that he was up late thinking of ideas ways to come up and ask you, but fred would just be constantly interrupting his train of thought with some outlandish ideas.

in the end, he resorted to just simply going on a hogsmeade trip with you and asking you there. he was definitely blushing quite a bit when asking you and blushed even more when you accepted! he’s just so happy hehe :’3 he tries acting nonchalant about it but it’s a bit obvious.

he’s somewhat embarrassed that he doesn’t have a new suit or anything of the sort, but seeing your outfit kind of just completely made him forget about that. like neville, george also has heart eyes when seeing you for the first time in your outfit. he just thinks you’re so beautiful!

if you’re on the shorter end, it’d be just a tad bit difficult to dance properly with him due to him being quite tall. you guys make it work out in the end though. for someone who’s short, dances like a waltz probably aren’t the best with someone tall like him. freestyle dances are probably the best fit for you two!

if you’re tall and around the same height as him you guys shouldn’t have much of an issue with formal dances like a waltz. freestyle dances would still be fun though! but then again i don’t take george to be much of a dancer.. he says fred took all of the good dancing genes between the two. he’d still try and learn for you though! the whole night would just be spend laughing and having a great time together.

overall, he’s fun to be around and you’d never experience an ounce of boredom with him. if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion i’d give him an 11/10! (biased but whatever)

draco malfoy :

moving onto your guy's clothing, he's actually quite picky with what you two will be wearing at the ball. he is very keen and intent on you two looking good with one another. his family likes to uphold their appearance on occasions like these, so if you’re his date be prepared for his pickiness! it doesn’t exactly matter if you don’t have the money for the probably very expensive outfit he’d pick out for you because he’s the one paying for it.

he wouldn’t be as surprised or taken aback by your appearance on the night of the ball. this being because he had already seen you with it on when trying it on. he still makes sure to compliment you though!

coming from such a well known and wealthy family means he’s probably had to attend many balls and nice events, so he’s had many lessons back at the manor on formal dances. this doesn’t exactly mean he paid attention though.. so he really only knows how to do a waltz. he’s also a bit more shy when freestyle dancing. he says it’s embarrassing but he’s just being silly.

i won’t say that he makes you sit down with him and talk, but then again he doesn’t want to be alone for the night. he’s just not much of a dancer. you two still manage to have fun though! i have a feeling that some of your guys' conversations were just gossip and making fun of others (mainly on draco’s end).

overall, he’s quite picky but still a gentleman nonetheless! if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion, i would give him an 8/10!

© ceresun >ᴗ< -> my works are not to be translated or reposted without permission!

[thefixations-ofmine]

snippet: new year, new me

a/n: I suck at titles, please be nice. This is a snippet for something I'm working on for the bucktommy winter fest, and it's inspired by this exchange here. I currently have 1,8k on it, but I'll be adding/editing more tomorrow and before posting on Saturday. I'm not sure if I'll take this one to the nsfw part or if I'm rather going to use next week's prompt for that. I'll see where this takes me!

“There’s still time to turn around, man.” Eddie offers, and Buck shakes his head. He’s gotta do this. For himself. And for Tommy, perhaps.

“I’m okay, yeah. I’m okay.” Buck rubs his hands onto his jeans - the tight blue ones he remembers were Tommy’s favourites. The same jeans he wore on the night- Buck shakes his head.

Yeah, he really needs to talk to Tommy.

The house looks a little different, and in his current state, Buck can’t really tell why. The grass is a little longer than usual, but that’s not it. Tommy was never really a fancy landscaping guy so the hedge and small bushes are the same. New roof? Nope.

Then Buck’s eyes fall onto the bright red, 2019 Charger parked in the driveway and his brows bend with curiosity. Did Tommy have that bad of a crisis that he made an impulsive (and expensive) decision?

Ha! Buck silently laughs to himself. Ironic.

Then his heart tightens at the thought of Tommy going out and changing plenty of things about himself that he might have been holding back because of their relationship.

Eddie catches the change in energy and tries to comfort his friend; “I remember he told me he was thinking of getting a more recent sports car because working on classics was becoming expensive.”

“But he loved his truck. I loved his truck…” Buck whispers, reminiscing over their short trips and the laughs they shared eating take-out and watching planes take off at Burbank.

After a deep breath to control himself, Buck nods and thanks Eddie for driving him over, that he’d catch an Uber back to his place if Eddie got called while on his stand-by shift.

He jumps out of the truck and wills himself to walk to the door.

It’s eleven forty-five.

There’s a few seconds too many after his first knock and Buck goes for another. The door swings open as if the person was waiting behind it for whomever it was to dare knock again.

The comforting smell of the house drafts out, bringing up a wave of emotions.

“Can I help you?” There’s a tall, broad man on the other side of the threshold, but it’s not Tommy. The features are similar though; blue eyes, dark hair, muscles all over and a nose that would crunch up on his cheek during a kiss like Tommy’s and-

“Who is it, Sal?” Buck hears Tommy shout from inside. Sal. What a stupid name.

“Some random mook.” Sal turns around to tell. Then his piercing gaze falls back onto Buck; “You’re bumming out our party. The fuck you want?”

“Um, well-” There’s a moment of disbelief that makes him forget everything he needed to say. Tommy’s already got a date. Buck was sure he’d be alone moping, or at least working an extra shift, but he’s already found another man to spend his spare time with. Tommy was better at going out to explore than he was apparently.

Fuck off. Not on his watch.

You can find my masterlist here. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in this and/or future works!

[doeeyedseer]

Some positive things said about elain.

“Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light."

"I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger."

"'Elain nodded, smiling up at me, and it was tentative joy—and life that shone in her eyes. A promise of the future, gleaming and sweet. "

"But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart"

"She had come alive here and her joy was infectious. There wasn't a servant or gardener who didn't smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies an tarts at various points in the day. I marveled at it, actually- that hose years of poverty hadn't stripped away that light from Elain, Perhaps buried it a bit but she was generous loving and kind- a woman I found myself proud to know, to call sister."

“Beautiful—she’d always been the most beautiful of us. Soft and lovely, like a summer dawn.”

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room.”

“Elain quietly washed his face. Combed out his hair and beard. Straightened his clothes. She found flowers—somewhere. She laid them at his head, on his chest. We stared down at him in silence. “I love you,” Elain whispered, voice breaking.”

"The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something … It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken.”

"Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw everything Nesta had done and understood. "

"For a moment, I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she'd spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression. "

"I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.”

"She loves her garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when - when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that."

"and Elain was so gentle, so sweet …"

“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

“Elain, who had been gentle and sweet. Elain, who was to marry a lord’s son who hated faeries …”

“Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees."

“Nesta met her sister's warm brown eyes. When human, elain had easily been the prettiest of the three of them, and when she'd been turned High Fae, that beauty had been amplified. Nesta couldn't put her finger on what changes had been wrought beyond the pointed ears, but Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful. Elain never seemed to realize it.”

“Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

“Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens—she had purpose, and joy, and friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysand’s household. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special."

"I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. "

"Lost to whatever fog of memory had crept over him, he was smiling mildly at his beloved Elain, the only one of us who bothered to really speak to him at all."

"There was a slight sparkle in her brown eyes.As if she’d been enjoying herself with them. I put a hand in my chest, leaning against the wood panels of the stair wall. Rhys’s hand covered my own a heartbeat later. “that was what I felt,” he said, “when I saw you smile that night we dined along the Sidra,”

“Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre"

"I smiled at my sister, memorizing her lovely face, and wiped her tears away. "

"My sister was beaming, content- prettier then I'd ever seen her, even in her simple muslin gardening dress. Her cheeks were flushed beneath her large, floppy hat.

"Her face had somehow become more beautiful- infinitely beautiful, and her ears...Elain's ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair."

"The cauldron purred in Elain's presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. "

"The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. "

"Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves."

"Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows."

"I'll do it," Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn't wait for either of us before she strode out , graceful as a doe."

""Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. "

Bonus:

" I knew they’d both die the moment that power hit them. Anything, I begged the Cauldron. Anything— The king’s hand began to drop. And then halted. A choking noise came out of him. For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

“Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row. " She nodded toward Azriel. "I think she's got you beat for secret-keeping.".

“I mean, she’s been brave when she had to be, but she’s never been confrontational.”

“But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.”

[imbaebi]

Black dress.

ִֶָ࣪☾. 김 승민 —

paring: introverted nonidol!seungmin x fem!oc

tags: Suggestive🩷, club romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst?

warnings: suggestive context(implied sex but no smut!), make out & one night stand, creepy guy, name calling(oc is called a bitch /neg), jealouy if you squint, drinking, partying(at a club). Tell me if I missed some!!

wc / cc : 3.9k / 22k

synopsis —---

Seungmin, finally decides to come out of his comfort shell even if it was under... circumstances. Now what happens when he fucks up and forgets to do one thing? What is he supposed to do now?

—-- ⪩⪨⪩⪨

This outing was supposed to be relaxing...

    Seungmin sighed and signaled the bartender, Roeun for another drink. This was going to be his fourth cocktail so he was a bit tipsy but mostly sober. He originally came here with Hyunjin and Bangchan but those two were swept to the dance floor by two pretty girls so now he was alone.

    Roeun slid the drink across the counter towards him and Seungmin nodded his head as a way of saying thanks. Seungmin brought the drink to his lips, the sweet cool liquid hit his tongue and throat satisfyingly. He finished the drink pretty quickly and was about to order something else, when Roeun tsked at him.

    Roeun, basically knew Seungmin and his friends since they were here every other weekend—like how single men were. And every weekend his friends would go flirt with girls while Seungmin drunk the night away. Did this guy have no social life?

    “What's your deal?” Roeun asked him.

    Seungmin was definitely taken aback, he definitely didn't know Roeun enough to have beef with him nor did he remember doing anything to him...

    “What do you mean?”

    “Everytime you come here with your friends you always end up alone, drinking your sad social life away. Why?” Seungmin felt a bit offended but what could he do? Roeun was speaking the truth... He didn't have to answer to him since he was just the bartender, it wasn't like they were friends or something.

    But it wasn't his fault. It's not like he enjoyed coming to the club, his friends just started dragging him out here. He simply just got used to the loudness and amount of people that were here. Not saying that he was able to approach anyone after getting used to it... This is what happens when you bring your introverted friends to a public place and then just leave them alone. ...He couldn't blame his friends though—those girls were pretty, who could resist trying to charm them?

    “Not going to answer?” Another tsk. Roeun stared at Seungmin for a moment before speaking again. “Tell you this... I won't let you buy another drink unless your bring a girl over—or guy, however way you swing.”

    Bring a girl over? Who did Roeun think he was? He couldn't sweet talk a girl like Bangchan did or pull someone just by being drop dead gorgeous like Hyunjin. Seungmin frowned.

    “Chop chop, Seungmin. We don't have the whole night. Oh and maybe lose the frown? You're a good looking guy but we don't need people thinking you're mad at them.”

    Seungmin sighed and got up. Roeun sent him two thumbs up as support. Seungmin didn't have any intention to actually find a girl to talk to, that was too big of a step for an introvert like him. He'd rather just walk around a bit and just watch people. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and looked onto the dance floor. He saw Bangchan who was dancing with some brunette. He didn't see Hyunjin though. Ah nevermind, there he was—Hyunjin was at one of the tables making out with a Blondie. Seungmin felt a twinge of jealousy but he tried his best to force it away. He didn't need that right now but how could he not feel that after someone just pointed out how sad his life was. He wished he could at least get someone's attention...

    Seungmin walked over to a quieter part of the club, kind of regretting it though since that seemed like the hot place couples decided on making out at, which was gross. He tried to avert his eyes away but unfortunately everywhere he looked, someone was shoving their tongue down someone's throat. He closed his eyes for a second debating if he should continue his exploring of the club or if he should just head back to Roeun and beg to call this whole thing off. Seungmin opened his eyes and right as he did, he bumped into someone. Well more like this someone ran straight into his chest. Reflexively, he caught the person and looked down at them, it was a woman with a short black dress. The first thing he noticed were her wide eyes, she looked shakened.

    “Are you okay, Miss?” He asked.

    “Help me,” She pleaded. “Some guy is following me. Could you like pretend to be my boyfriend or something?”

    That's when Seungmin noticed this guy who had his hair slicked back, he looked rather annoyed. His eyes searched for a few seconds before they landed on them. Seungmin panicked a bit and held her close, his hands around her waist but keeping it respectful. He prayed that the guy with slicked back hair would just go away. Unfortunately though his prayer wasn't answered. The man walked right up toward them.

    “Hey, pretty. Why were you running?” The man had the audacity to ask, just straight up ignoring Seungmin's presence.

    “I don't think she wants to talk to you.” He gritted his teeth.

    “Oh yeah? What are you, her boyfriend?”

    “Yes, actually.” He answered without hesitation. The man was silent for a moment, he hadn't expected that.

    “You're really lucky you get to have that bitch.” he said before he turned around. Seungmin felt angry, how dare he just call this women a bitch and then walk off? He had almost forgotten he was even holding the woman by the waist if it weren't for her small sigh of relief. He released her, and placed his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

    “Are you okay?”

    “Yeah.. just a little shaken up. He had been following me all over the club.” She said. “Thank you for helping me.”

    “It was no problem.” He assured. He took a tiny moment to register her face. She was pretty.. like really pretty.

    “How about I buy you a drink?” Seungmin managed to say without stuttering. And then he quickly added, “It'll help calm you nerves..”

    He wasn't sure if he could face rejection right now, so he used the 'it'll calm your nerves' card. The woman smiled at him a bit.

    “Okay. Nothing too strong though.”

    The two walked over to the bar; Roeun was rather surprised to see that Seungmin had actually brought someone over. And so quickly too...

    “Hi! What can I get you two?” Roeun asked, switching into bartender mode.

    Seungmin turned to the girl he was with—she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

    “Tequilla sunrise, please.”

    “I'll have the same.”

    “Two tequila sunrises coming right up.” Roeun turned and began grabbing the liquor and orange juice to make the drinks.

    He noticed that the woman beside him was rather quiet than most girls he has been around. Maybe she was just shy...

    “We never really got to introduce ourselves. I'm Seungmin, and I'm twenty-four.” Seungmin spoke, starting a conversation.

    “I'm Haeun and I turned twenty-two a week ago.”

⪩⪨

    Haeun ended up staying at the club longer than she had planned, all because of a certain attractive man. Originally, she came here to celebrate her friend, Bora's birthday but Bora invited Haeun's ex and was all over him the whole night. Talk about fake friends... Then she noticed the creep following her. She was planning to leave but she was worried this guy would follow her outside, but Seungmin came to her rescue—now she spent the last hour with him, just chatting. Shy as she was, Seungmin was really easy for her to talk to. She wasn't sure why, because Seungmin was very good looking and she usually shuts down when speaking to anyone who interests her—maybe she was just tipsy... 

    Partying wasn't her scene, she'd rather stay home. But Seungmin had made it more enjoyable for her. She wanted to get to know him better and maybe they could become friends. Haeun rested her head on her hand and leaned on the bar counter, staring at Seungmin. Her brain felt a little foggy, perhaps the alcohol? He was currently talking about how he's been learning guitar for a couple years and other stuff but she was hardly listening, catching few words. She was suddenly remembering his hands on her waist earlier and how she felt safe with them around her... He looked so cute right now, as his eyes had lit up talking about something. What was it? Ah singing... She bet he sounded like an angel.. a sweet guardian angel. A familiar beat started to play through out the club, she perked up. It was one of her favorite songs.

    “Oh, what luck! I love this song.” She smiled softly. She stood up, and took his hand suddenly. “Come dance with meee!”

    Seungmin had followed her onto the dance floor, where Haeun let loose. She moved fluidly to the beat, relaxing even more. She was smiling and having the the time of her life.

⪩⪨

    Seungmin had let himself get dragged onto the dance floor, to be honest he hadn't been expecting that. Haeun looked so happy right now, he couldn't help but smile too—Haeun must really love this song. Seungmin danced by her side, the music getting to him. He was having fun, more fun than usual—the alcohol was definitely getting to him and it was definitely not because of her. A few songs passed and the two were still on the dance floor, surrounded in the crowd of other people. The next song changed the atmosphere—a little slower than the song playing before and way more spicy. Haeun swayed her hips mesmerizingly, already getting into the mood of the song. She looked attractive in the little black dress she was wearing.

    On the dance floor it was getting more crowded since the song changed so Haeun was pushed close against him. It caught him off guard for a second but he quickly recovered and put his hands on her waist a little hesitant at first but when she didn't react badly he kept them there; and instead of reacting in a way he thought she would, she began grinding against him slowly but still matching pace with the song. The heat that flooded through his body was intense, like someone had turned the heater on at max. It felt so... right. His hands slid lower to her hips before he could stop himself. She leaned her head on his chest and looked up at him—the look in her eyes made him question his restraint. Did she feel the increase of temperature too? They stared into ones eyes for a bit until the change of song made them both snap back to reality. Seungmin removed his hands from her hips and she took a couple steps away to give him some space.

    The air between them was still tight with electricity and want. Seungmin swallowed before following Haeun back to the bar. He watched as her hips swayed with each step, her black dress tight around her hips. She sat down on one of the bar stools, her dress that inched up her thigh slightly did not go unnoticed by him. He sat down next to her and tried to keep his eyes on her face. She made eye contact with him and smiled,

    “...That was fun.” Her little lip bite did not go unnoticed. This woman was driving him crazy!

    “Roeun, some fireball shots please.” He needed something to settle this feeling.

    “Fireball shots coming right up!” Roeun quickly made the shots and gave it to the two.

    Seungmin quickly down the shot, the burning feeling tingled inside his throat. Haeun did the same and downed her her shot too. He could feel the alcohol take over his senses. If he wasn't drunk already then he was definitely drunk now. He was about to ask Haeun if she wanted another shot when he caught her staring at the other side of him. Her lips carried a frown. Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed and turned to look at what she was looking at. It was a couple, they were giggling and pushing at each other—she was over clinging onto the man. The woman with the bob had a slight smug face as she glanced at Haeun before she kissed the guy's forehead.

    “Do you know them?” Seungmin asked. He had a worried look on his face, sobering up at the different mood radiating off Haeun.

    “Unfortunately I was invited to her birthday party.. that's my ex boyfriend and friend. Well ex friend now...” She rolled her eyes. “She's just trying to show off that she stole my ex but unlucky for her I don't have any feelings for that jerk.”

    He could tell that the sight of those two was getting to her. She huffed and glared at the bob girl. Seungmin placed his hand under her chin making her look at him, her eyes widen a bit at the sudden gesture.

    “You shouldn't focus on those two when I'm right here, Haeun.” He saw the small shiver that went through her, his eyes darken slightly.

    “Okay then...” She trailed with a slight smirk, staring at his lips. The familiar heat came over them, and it radiated off them; the bob woman and the ex came up to them unfortunately breaking the mood.

⪩⪨

    “Haeun~ You didn't tell me you brought a guest!” Bora smiled innocently—but Haeun knew she was checking him out with her beady eyes. She grimaced, feeling annoyed.

    “Chul said this was your boyfriend?” Her ex, Dowon spoke.

    “Chul?” She asked confused, who the fuck was Chul?

    “Somewhat tall guy with a mustache.” Dowon prompted.

    When Haeun showed no sign of recognition, he rolled his eyes. “He was wearing a grey button down and he has slicked back hair.”

    Haeun stiffened a bit. So her ex knew the creep from earlier...

    “So is this your boyfriend, Haeun?” He asked again.

    “Dowon—”

    “Yes, I am. What do you want?” Seungmin spoke before she could answer. The edge to Seungmin's voice told her he did not like Dowon at all.

    “How long have you two been dating?” Dowon narrowed his eyes. Bora began kissing his neck with a sly smile on her lips while staring right at Haeun, trying to get a reaction out of her. Dowon promptly ignored her kissing.

    “That is none of your business, yeah? You aren't with her anymore so fuck off.”

    The surprise was evident on Dowon but he masked it quickly with a glare. Haeun was also surprise but she didn't let it show, she was surprised by the way it made her feel.. inside. Dowon pushed Bora a bit to get her to stop kissing his neck. Dowon was about to speak again, when Seungmin stood up and pulled her up—he put his arm around her waist

    Haeun would be lying if she said she didn't find Seungmin being protective of her hot. And he had his hand on her waist again, bringing back the memories of before—making her not care at all about Bora and Dowon. They were nothing but mere thoughts in the back of her mind—right now she was too focused on the scent of his cologne and closeness...

“Let's go somewhere quiet, away from these jerks.” Seungmin shot them a glare before he whisked her away.

⪩⪨

    He led her to a part in the back of the club, a place he would go when he needed solitude. It was farther way from the speakers and had usually empty restrooms.

    Seungmin stopped walking and looked at her. Was she okay? She looked back at him, whatever discomfort and annoyance that was in her eyes earlier was gone. Her face flushed for whatever reason, making her look eatable. Seungmin shook the thoughts out of his head to focus and ask,

    “Are you alright, Haeun?”

    “...Yeah,” She answered quietly. Her eyes looked distracted. “Kinda...”

    Her husky voice, breathless. He felt a wave of that familiar heat.

    “...Kinda?”

    

    “What... What would you do if I were to kiss you right now?” She asked suddenly.

    Seungmin flushed lightly. What would he do if she kissed him right now? The thought of just feeling her lips made him burn inside.

    “How about we find out?” The sudden boldness from his strained voice caught them off guard. It was obvious since on the dance floor, a tension followed them both and did not ever free them from itself. A kiss was definitely what they both wanted, everything in them wanted it...

    So who were they to refuse their own desires? Seungmin grabbed her by the waist, something he found he enjoyed doing. He leant down and hesitated a moment, it wasn't because he was scared, he just wanted this kiss to be just right. Seungmin kissed her lips gently, instantly feeling the flames of desire ignite on his skin. It was electric, electric as the spark of electricity that went through them. Her fingers went to his hair, digging themselves into the locks of brown. The gentle kiss was turning into something more ravenous, her fingers went from his hair to his chest.

    He broke the kiss, both of them panting. He had almost forgotten that he was in a public club. Did she want more? He didn't want to do something she didn't want... As if hearing his thoughts,

    “Do you want to continue this somewhere else?”

    His eyes darken at her suggestive question. Seungmin bit his lip and without a word he led to the restrooms, they were usually empty as it was mentioned earlier. He guided her inside, locking the door behind them. He cornered her slight against the wall.

    “Are you sure? We don't have to if you're not comfortable.” He looked into her eyes.

    “Don't worry, I'm up for it.”

    Before he knew it, she pressed her lips onto his. The kiss was hungry, hungry after the intense spark of electricity that ran through them earlier. If they thought it couldn't get any hotter, they just proved themselves wrong. He pressed her against the wall, her hands roamed all over his chest and tugged at the buttons of his shirt. The intensity of the kiss was almost too much for them, they broke apart gasping for air. The gasping didn't take long because Seungmin had soon taken her lips again, this time licking her bottom lip for entry which she allowed, parting her mouth. He explored the new area briefly before they both started battling for dominence. Haeun went on her toes to get better access of succeeding their tongue battle, however Seungmin wasn't about to lose so easily. He pushed her back against the wall roughly without breaking the kiss and he shoved his knee between her thigh which made her squeak in surprise and reluctantly gave up and allowed him to take dominence. Excited, he was since he enjoyed being in charged.

    Seungmin broke the kiss, letting them both get some air. Seungmin looked in her eyes for a moment, the look was more vehement than when they were on the dance floor. He swallowed and moved his knee to balance himself a bit causing Haeun to whimper at the friction. Seungmin went and attacked her neck, sucking the soft skin—she tilted her head as he left kisses and bruises on her neck, making little sounds as he did so. Her hands went to his soft hair and entangled her fingers in it. She shut her eyes as he sucked on her sweet spots, she bit her lip surpressing any noises that were itching to come out. He went lower down her neck to her collarbone, leaving no place untouched. When he reached down to her cleavage that was uncovered by the black fabric of her dress—he made sure to kiss her chest before looking right into her eyes. The needy look in her eyes was enough to set him off and loose any type on restraint he had left.

    Soon her dress was bunched up to her waist and the clinking of of his belt was echoed through the restroom.

    Roeun stared at the two across the club with a knowing look. Haeun's disheveled hair and Seungmin's flushed face disclosed it all what they had been up to. He had never imagined that the two would fuck each other in the bathroom, Seungmin surprised him more and more this night.

    It was getting late, Haeun was sleepy after their prior activities. Seungmin was also feeling tired, after all they did have lots to drink and he did just get laid.

    “My Uber is here...” Haeun informed him.

    “I'll have to find my friends but I'll walk you outside first” He definitely wasn't going to let her walk outside the club by herself this late at night. She smiled softly, making him feel warm inside.

    He walked her outside and helped her find her Uber. He made sure she was safely in before saying goodnight and watching her go off. He went inside to find his friends, which didn't take long—Hyunjin and Bangchan were sitting at the bar, speaking to Roeun.

    Roeun was the first to notice Seungmin, a little knowing smirk curved his lips. Seungmin took a seat next to Chan and rested his head on the counter, his face flushed slightly. He was tired so he didn't want to deal with any teasing. He heard a glass slide towards him, he lifted his head.

    “Have some water, min.”

    Seungmin took the glass, sitting up. He yawned a bit before he sipped the water as his friends stared at him with raised brows, trying to figure out. ...So what did Roeun tell them?

    “Roeun was telling us...” Hyunjin started, staring at Seungmin intensely as if to figure out the truth by looking. “That you met a girl?”

    “And that you guys fucked in the restroom?” Chan added.

    Seungmin just sipped his water, ignoring the question which caused his friends eyebrows to raise. Was it really that shocking for them? He didn't really like that reaction, maybe he should start talking to more people. Chan and Hyunjin looked almost proud which made him feel worse.

    “Does it matter?” Seungmin asked tiredly after swallowing the liquid in his mouth.

    The three study him for a moment, what happened to their friend who kept to himself and who was this new guy?

    “Was she pretty?”

    “Yes. She was very pretty, hot even.” Her face engraved into his sleepy mind as he answered.

    “So?”

    So? Seungmin looked at Chan, what did he mean by that?

    “Did you get her number or was that like a one night stand?”

    One night stand? Number? That sentence woke him up almost instantly, filling him up with such a terrible feeling. How was it possible for him, Kim Seungmin, to forget such an important thing? He hadn't gotten her number... He frowned, he fucked up...

    “Can we talk about this another time? I want to just go home.”

    The three were rather surprised by his tired and slightly upset tone. Did something happen between their friend and this mystery girl?

    “Oh yeah... Sure.” Chan said awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond.

    The three left the club, Hyunjin and Seungmin shared an Uber since they both lived in the same apartment complex. Soon Hyunjin and Seungmin parted ways, him living on the floor above Hyunjin's.

    Seungmin unlocked his apartment door, stepping inside the quiet area. The silence made his thoughts loud, louder than he'd liked. So now what? He only knew her face and her first name, not like that would get him any leads on who she was. He covered his face with his hands, why was he such an idiot? The first girl that he genuinely had interest in and then he goes and messes up, forgetting to ask for her number. What was he supposed to do now? Call it a one night stand and forget about her?

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Rabbit Restoration Project: |9|

After Springtrap left you alone, you had been hoping that dealing with the drawers wouldn't take that all that long--at best, just a single hour.

Unfortunately, that was far from the truth.

Going through your home, you made the discovery that, except for a few select rooms--such as The Restoration Room, and its connected bedroom--the rabbit had made a mess everywhere.

Doors were all swung open--which already gave you the biggest hint as to what happened, before you even checked--you'd always kept the rooms closed up when they weren't in use.

It had still been around two when shoving your neighbor out, and when you had given Springtrap the little deal. I should make sure with him...

Now, though?

After speedwalking through the house, checking through every room--cleaning up the contents all over the floor, and hastily attempting to stuff each of the collapsed drawers back into their original locations...

...Before returning to The Restoration Room, trying to see if there was anything that you missed in there, before attempting to fix the doors hinges, and debating on simply sticking something over the hole...

Maybe if I got two mirrors, and placed them over the issue, I'd just forget about it at some point. Your first thought had been. You didn't hate it.

...Collapsing onto the couch after having additionally making something to eat, you sluggishly pulled your phone out and just dropped it onto the cushion.

A finger tapped against it, and the screen came to life--a little too bright for your liking in the moment--but you didn't feel like trying to adjust it.

Up on the right corner of it, it revealed that there was 45% of battery life left--but that's not what you cared about. What you did care about were the larger numbers on the screen, instead.

8:47PM. You groaned, raising up momentarily, onto plop onto the couch again--this time, just on your back. I really spent that long...?

A hand raised and was placed firmly in the middle of your face. I haven't even managed to do all that much today... Rather than your face remaining neutral, it began to frown.

That morning, without having been able to sleep at all, you'd busied yourself with editing a newer video of yours--something considerably easier than the rabbit that you had restored.

After all, when you'd come across that item, and brought it home... it didn't exactly grow legs and walk away and then make a horrible mess of your home. The object certainly had manners.

Morning drives had always been a decent enough occurrence--but they usually happened so early in the day, that almost nothing ever seemed to happen.

Everyone was still so sleepy--and there had only been a handful of times where you'd see or hear much of anything--others driving, or going out for a walk--with or without an animal.

And while there were certainly moments where you had managed to see something on the sidewalk, it had never been anything so major--usually just trash.

You doubted that old animatronics were left out near the street often--if they were, and they were just like Springtrap, well...

Wait. Your eyes grew wide, and as quickly as possible--accidentally causing yourself to feel dizzy in the process--you got up from the couch. Springtrap. He's been alone for a few hours.

When going through and trying to fix everything, you hadn't really seen the rabbit all that much--except for a few brief glimpses here and there. He didn't seem to be doing much...

That had been hours ago, though. Whatever he's doing now, I don't hear anything. You snatched up your phone--which had gone down to 39%. Maybe he doesn't want me to hear anything. Or maybe he's just...

Feet moving forwards, you rubbed at your forehead. I don't know... I just hope he isn't making everything go back to square one. I don't want to stay up until five in the morning.

You doubted that fixing everything he'd messed up would have taken that long earlier--when going through everything--if you hadn't kept stopping for frequent, decently sized breaks.

There had been enough moments where you considered stopping for the day, and just going to lay down--way too many times to count on either hand... but you wanted to get it all done.

It also didn't help that you couldn't help but find yourself getting distracted with some of the drawers items. Some of which were things that you had nearly forgotten about completely.

The ones that you had thought were the most interesting, you'd dropped them off into your room--figuring that would be the best place for them, without forgetting again.

You yawned.

The arm... wait. It's still back there. A huff. I did want to move it... maybe I could go and bring it to him to keep him calm enough.

Focusing your walk on returning to The Restoration Room, you silently debated on where you would find the rabbit after. What if he went out into the back or front yard? What would someone say?

Although, as the room came into view, it's entry wide open, it looks like you didn't have to stress about where else the rabbit could be within your home.

Standing beside the desk, with a grip on the arm, but not exactly holding it--it seemed more like he was finally keeping it from falling--was Springtrap.

He seemed to be staring at all of the equipment in the room. Did he not see any of it when I brought him in earlier? Your pace quickened, and his ears twitched.

Just a second later, his head lifted, meeting your gaze--but not for very long, as your eyes fell to the floor. Why is he staring like that...

"You've finished." Springtrap stated.

"Yep..." Murmuring, you stepped foot into The Recreation Room, lifting your eyes up--staring at him--but not into his eyes again. It's not like he can turn someone to stone...

You cleared your throat. It wasn't the first thing that you wanted to ask, really--but so much was continuing to repeatedly kick the door down. "Hey. About when you broke open the door... what was-"

Not allowing the question to be finished, Springtrap interrupted you for yet another time that day. "Move."

"What?" You blinked, frowning. Although, your legs--as if they couldn't resist the word--were beginning to slowly move backwards.

He grunted and held out his hand. It was a gesture from the rabbit that you assumed had to mean stop. And a second or two later, your legs listened.

"Move along." While he almost seemed to sound to be on edge, there was a tiny sliver left to suggest that he was still enjoying your reactions. "If you plan on questioning me..."

He doesn't want to talk about it. Why? You yawned again. I don't want to risk anything happening...

"Um..." It took a few moments for another thought--another question--to make itself far better known, pushing the previous one out of the way. You hummed.

"Why were you just on the sidewalk earlier?" You pressed yourself against the wall, taking a moment to relax against the rather cold surface. "I'm... guessing you came from someplace else."

"Fazbear's Fright." Springtrap answered much more easily, his eyes seeming to briefly roll at the name. "A horrid excuse for a 'haunted house'."

"Fazbear's... Fright?" You repeated slowly, confusion seeping through your voice--enough to certainly be noticed by the old rabbit.

"Mm."

"Was that really far from here? You must have walked pretty far." No wonder he was just collapsed, then. Even if these things aren't supposed to get exhausted...

"No." The rabbit rasped. "It was here. I don't believe it was far."

"In this town??" You stopped leaning against the wall.

"Of course." Springtrap spat. "Where else would I be talking about? It was built here. I've been here." He took a few steps forward.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" You waved your hands a little frantically, and the rabbit stopped advancing, a scoff escaping from him.

"I just... I guess I wasn't paying all that much attention to recent things."

"Obviously."

"So..." You shifted around on one side.

"It burned down." Springtrap added. He didn't sound upset any longer--but he did sound rather exhausted. "I escaped as it did. It damaged my arm well enough, however."

"Is... that why it came off so suddenly when I hit you earlier?" You slowly asked.

"Partially, I suppose." Springtrap wheezed.

Nearly a minute went by, and neither of you were saying anything--allowing the silence to begin stretching a rather decent amount--straining at the same time.

It was as if the both of you were waiting for the other to say something. Although, you had noticed how... difficult it sounded when the rabbit spoke. Maybe he doesn't feel like it any longer...

You sighed. "What... What exactly is "Fazbear's" supposed to mean? What's it supposed to be?"

The rabbit's eyes seemed to widen farther than they should be capable of. "You have never heard of it? Of Freddy's?" He sounded displeased.

Even though Springtrap didn't necessarily sound angry, you still found yourself raising your hands up defensively. "Sorry... no. But I'm... I'm guessing it had something to do with animatronics...?"

Springtrap stared.

"...You know, if this haunted house had the name, and... brought you into its walls." You awkwardly added.

He kept staring, still looking rather displeased about something.

"Actually, I have another question." You held in the new yawn that was trying to squirm out. "They... they did have to go and bring you to this haunted house, right? You weren't just... already there?"

A nod.

"So, where were you originally when they-"

You huffed as Springtrap, for an amount that you weren't keeping track, interrupted you yet again. "My turn." He moved away from the desk.

"But I..." You trailed off as you spotted the look in the rabbit's eyes that he was giving you--it made you feel a bit chilly. He doesn't want to talk about that either... what happened?

"No more questions like that." He lowly hissed, before gesturing towards the desk in the room, among all of the other items.

When Springtrap spoke again--just a few seconds later--he sounded more relaxed. "What exactly is all of this? Earlier today, you mentioned fixing me."

You smiled, and cautiously moved a little closer, ignoring the two yawns that escaped from your lips. Springtrap simply stared, ears twitching.

"Well... I could show you?" You offered. "I could go ahead and start working on you." I should have already been doing it that this morning.

An instant later, you were in Springtrap's grasp.

His hand had shot forwards--dipping--and found its place beneath your chin. Once it was there, the rabbit pulled you closer, and you let out a tiny grunt from how quickly it had been done.

Springtrap's eyes remained almost completely still--only briefly gliding down or up--but the movement was so small, you thought you were imagining it.

But what you weren't imagining was what the rabbit seemed to be doing. He's examining me?

There was a hum from the rabbit--seemingly satisfied with his examination, perhaps--or just to let you know that he was finished. A moment later, his hand dropped.

"Go to sleep. You're exhausted." He stated, putting a little more effort into his voice to actually get the words out. Springtrap began moving past you.

You twisted around to watch him go, sighing.

"I don't need the state of this to worsen, just because you're about to start counting sheep."

His shoulder bumped into yours again as the rabbit fully passed through the room's entryway, whispering something else--but it was far too quiet for you to actually hear.

Although you didn't leave the room yourself yet, you stood in the entryway a few seconds after Springtrap made his exit, and watched him carefully.

Fortunately, he didn't disappear around a corner, and start doing whatever he pleased--like opening the drawers all over again.

Instead, you watched as the rabbit made his way over to one of the windows, awkwardly fiddled with the blinds, before staring up at the darkened sky--the full moon making itself known.

It was pretty, at the very least.

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