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minhosimthings · 7 months

Text

A La Folie ft. Jay

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, no smut (yet hehe), mentions of blood, violence, domestic abuse, mentions of cheating, mistresses (don't read it if you can't handle it), mentions of food, Jay has a REALLY tragic past sorry bout that, reader is an orphan, also this is really dramatic IM SORRY I CANT NOT WRITE DRAMA, open ending oohh

A/N: EYYY MR JAY PARK WOOHOO Ngl I was so excited to write this but the exams and all made this kinda difficult to write so if anyone has been waiting for this I'm sorry for the extremely long wait. Also yes this wil be in three parts yay. @yunabi436 this is for you baby 😽

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

"And from Aphrodite's rotten lovesick blood did the white flowers turn into a darker shade of red, eternally forming the flower of love."

Aphrodite and the hunter Adonis' tale had been one of boars, blood, lust and love.

For the young king of the iron-kingdom of Vadronia (rightly given its moniker), the only thing he cared about in all of those four things were the boars and the blood.

Jay Park's kingdom wasn't the strongest in all of Paradoxica just in a penny's wish and a flick of a tail feather. It was quote unquote 'molten from iron itself' as all its rulers were.

From all of his brothers, Jay was probably the one who took his duties as a warrior seriously.

Well, a bit too seriously, according to the said brothers.

"Jay would you please stop running so fast?" Sunghoon panted, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily as beads of sweat dripped from his hair and skin.

The mud track was always the hardest one to trench upon, and with Jay on your trail? It was hell. Atleast that's what Jake and Sunghoon described it as.

"Are you going to be saying that when you're running from enemy horses?" Jay turned back and glared at Sunghoon, the light autumn breeze giving him peace as it whipped his hair around.

"For God's sake Jay, no one is going to invade us now." Heeseung walked into the scene, with much less sweatier clothes and an arrow clutched in his hand, indicating he had come back from his target practice, "Give the poor guys a break."

"Yes please give us a break I'll go down on my knees." Jake was close to collapsing on the floor, his hand desperately clutching onto the nearby flag pole for support.

"You'd go down on your knees for your best friend." Jay scoffed, throwing his head back to shake the sweat out of his hair follicles, because as glorious as they were, the stray strands still annoyed him, "And you." He turned towards Heeseung, who, even though was much taller than Jay, now looked like a dwarf in front of Jay's broad figure, "How many times do I have to remind you to come for practice?"

"It's not my fault." Heeseung jut out his bottom lip, he always loved acting cute in front of Jay even if he was older, "Little princess back at home has been spying on me. And not gonna lie, I am extremely aroused."

"Why did I even ask?" Jay rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms, the bright burning sun reflecting in his eyes like the moonshine he loved so much, which he drank by the fireplace as he penned down poetry he could show to no one.

"So Jayyyy" Sunghoon dragged his words out, "Felt any sparks lately?"

"Ask that question again and you'll be running twenty laps round this track." Jay promptly replied, cleaning his face with the lavender-smelling towel the nearby servant handed to him. He always loved the lavender scented things, it reminded him of the springs with his mother, oh how she would tease him with tiny flowers in his hair, and the clink of her ruby created dagger in her belt. The dagger lay soulless now, sitting in a secretive place in Jay's room, as he stared at it and remembered that moment again and again. His bastard father, no matter how many times Jay had cursed him, he still couldn't get it out of his mind.

His mother, his compassionate, kind mother, didn't deserve to bleed out from his father's turn of blade.

And no matter how many potions he took, the smell of the blood filled ballroom still lingered in his nose at night, when he would jolt awake in cold sweat, wanting to cling onto his mother, but then he'd remember that he wasn't eight anymore, she was gone.

"Jay you're my brother and I really respect you a lot." Heeseung started, sitting Jay down on the oak bench, while Jake and Sunghoon quietly sneaked out, running for their lives back to their horses, "But you've got to find someone to love in your life, you've got to get over your fear."

"Weren't you the one who was complaining about love to Jake and I a few days ago?" Jay raised a magnificently trimmed brow, to which Heeseung chuckled.

"Yep but then I fell into that rabbit hole and I seem to like it, a bit too much perhaps." Heeseung stared into the distance, instantly losing his dramatic moment as the setting sun hit his pupils.

"Yeah, someday when I'm older maybe." Jay fiddled with his fingers, he never could keep them still, "But for now, I wanted to ask if you'd want to come with me on a hunt tomorrow?"

"A hunt?" Heeseung quizzed, lifting himself with much difficulty off of the bench, bow in hand, "You haven't invited me to a hunt in ages."

"Necessity is the mother of invention." Jay got up as well, scented towel still in hand, "And in this case it's that wild boar our men have been hunting since last month, been terrorizing the border between Tarnow and Vadronia now. I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet."

"Consider me blinded by love." Heeseung threw a flirtatious wink at Jay, who visibly gagged, "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting."

"No no no, Jay, we, under no circumstances, apply essence of Hibiscus to a water snake's venom." A lady with greying hair sighed, bending over a wooden cup, while a sturdy, black haired man gulped heavily and stared nervously at the herbs in his hand.

Jay was never very successful in his healing classes, and under the strict gaze of his teacher, old Mrs.Chun, he was far away from catching the train of success.

"I don't get it." Jay frowned like a child, setting the hibiscus flower down on the table filled with healing equipments of all kind, "Wasn't the essence of Hibiscus supposed to combat this snake's venom?"

The old lady sighed again and rolled her eyes, snatching the hibiscus from the table and setting it into a basket full of the bright red flowers. With her other hand, she picked up a wicker work basket of lavender and lifted it up to Jay.

"Lavender. I said lavender remember?" She smiled up at Jay like an encouraging teacher, "Lavender for the wounds which make a man turn purple, and hibiscus for the blood drops."

Jay mumbled the rule under his mouth before pressing the lavender petals to the venom splanched across the bown om front of him. The purplish colour immediately turned a healing shade of dark yellow, satisfying Jay and letting out a sigh of relief from the old lady.

"Just some more practice and patience and you'll be a good healer in no time." Mrs. Chun patted Jay's arm sympathetically.

"But why do I even need to be a healer?" Jay asked curiously, putting the box of potions up on the shelf where they belonged, "I'm already a warrior."

"Every great warrior needs to know how to tend to his own wounds." The old lady smiled, looking curiously at a green flask, "I made a vow to your mother to never let you fail in this subject."

Jay smiled fondly at the thought of his mother spending her hours in the infirmary along with Mrs. Chun. Mrs. Chun herself was like his mother figure, providing him the hugs his 14 year old self needed so bad years ago.

"And remember Jay!" Mrs. Chun called out just as Jay was about to leave the room, "I won't be here for the entirety of next month."

"But then who's going to look after the infirmary?" Jay turned back and raised a quizzical brow at Mrs.Chun, who smiled gently.

"My apprentice will." She promptly replied, "She's a nice girl, I told her all about your predicament of failing at healing." Jay let out a chuckle at Mrs.Chun's joke, "She'll take your classes alright?"

"Don't miss me too much Mrs.Chun!" Jay laughed, "I'm your favourite remember?"

Mrs.Chun laughed heartily to herself. Oh that boy, she thought, still a bit at heart even if he was a man to the world.

Only a bit of love perhaps, can truly lead him to show this side of him to the world.

Jay sighed heavily as he plopped down on his armchair, the most comfortable one by the fire.

Love, he scoffed, what a stupid, dangerous thing.

He believed his father to love his mother, he believed his mother to love his father even as he went out every night to quote unquote 'find himself'. Mistresses were awful buisness, and no Queen had ever objected her king having one. But of course, his mother had to object, she had to be different. She had to storm in to her husband and his lover and confront them. And his father, fire-filled man he was, had to strike a blade through her belly, making her bleed out in 14 year old Jay's arms.

And of course, Jay, blinded by his rage, had to strike his father back, skilled as his father was, Jay was more fleet footed, and in the blink of an eye, his father and his father's new toy were lying in cold blood on the floor, as Jay sobbed, clutching his mother's body, dead as a fish out of the ocean.

And his brothers had noticed, they had always noticed how Jay was never the same from that day. From the happy boy who loved to write stories and poetry and who hated to even step foot in the training yard, Jay became the mercenary king, ready with his sword clutched in hand, and his poems long forgotten to silence and withering darkness.

But it wasn't to say that Jay was a ruthless ruler, he chose not to take that path, especially not after half the kingdom starved under the rule of his father. It wouldn't have been a lie to say he was the kindest one in all of Paradoxica, except he didn't really show it in the way he spoke or acted, but by the way he controlled the administration and whatnot of the kingdom. This kept his busy, seldom leaving time for any other activities, much to the disappointment of his brothers, especially Heeseung, who had always been the closest to him, who had known what he was truly like, deep inside.

Clutching his eagle feather quill, one of his most dearest ones, Jay dipped the tip into his ink pot, letting the excess ink dry off before pressing it to his leather bound diary.

When he wrote the feelings he couldn't ever say out loud onto the softwood paper, Jay felt a sort of contentment, he had always been a clandestine philophile, so to write his proses on the idea of love, death and misery, was to create a beautiful choreography on his mindset.

Alas, if there was only someone he could show them to, someone who would understand what Jay meant in the lines, even with his messy loopy calligraphy, that would have been a dream truly come true.

But how could a man who wrote poems to challenge the angels of love themselves, ever find love?

But I am a mere narrator, what would I know?

And sometimes, just sometimes, Cupid lurked in the ballrooms of dancing princes and in the dark inkpots of oxymoronic kings.

"I have no idea what's happening, but I'm happy to be here." Sunghoon's beautiful Clydesdale horse pranced around on the grass, as energetic and as similar a persona as her owner.

"Would you tell her to calm down?" Heeseung's own chestnut's hooves guided him towards Sunghoon, "She needs the energy for the hunt." Heeseung easily managed to calm the mare down by scratching behind her eyes, to which Sunghoon drooped since he had been enjoying the prancing around a bit too much.

"Why are we going on a hunt again?" Jake adjusted his saddle, making sure he was buckled in properly to his Fox Trotter horse, "Aren't we above killing animals now?"

"Your best friend tell you that?" The clip clopping of Jay's magnificent Dutch Warmblood sent all of the soldiers to silence, "And if the animal is a wild boar, no we aren't above that."

"Whatever you say, oh great King." Sunghoon snickered, as he did a sort of bow on his horse, making everyone laugh.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, clutching onto his horse's hair, and leaning into his usual stance, "Come on now, don't want to keep a beauty waiting do we?" And with the mighty neigh of his horse, he rode off into the forest, followed by Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon, who followed with dramatic sighs.

"Sometimes I wonder if he just wants to live in an adventure book and say cringey lines all the time." Sunghoon jested, making the others laugh.

"Where on earth is Sunoo?" Jay shouted out, completely ignoring the statement made about him, as the rest of the three managed to catch up to his horse's pace.

"Probably tending to his vineyard." The wind whipped Jake's hair around, "God knows if he'd ever accept coming to a hunt with us."

"Maybe a grape hunt-"

"Shh!"

Jay's action of stopping his horse, and shushing everyone startled the others, and as the clopping of hooves quietened down, they understood why Jay had stopped so abruptly.

The rustling of the nearby begonia bushes, combined with the noises of an animal which sounded extremely similar to a wild boar, alerted them, as they drew out their swords, daggers and metal tipped arrows, all from treasure chest of Vadronia's amazing metalwork, aiming them at the begonia bushes, as Jay held up his closed fist to give the command.

"Come on out." Jay whispered to no one in particular but himself, as the begonia bushes began shaking more rapidly and the sounds of an animal's footsteps came nearer.

"Hey maybe we should-" Heeseung bagan quietly to Jay, but was interrupted by the ripping of the begonias into shreds.

And there it was, what Jay had been waiting for.

A big wild boar in its full magnificence.

Ivory tusks in full gleam, swathes of brown fur all over its damaged skin, with wounds from previous hints. A ture display of its strength, Jay thought, it wanted to intimidate them, as if to say 'see how many people haven't defeated me yet, why do you think you stand a chance?'.

"Steady now, Lady." Jay patted his horse, which was ever so graciously named Lady, although the mare's personality in battle was far away from a lady's. Jay always preferred mares to horses, he though they were more faster and agile, while horses used their brute strength. And he had a hatred from brute strength. It was what got her killed after all.....

"Jake look out!" Heeseung cried out, snapping Jay out of his daze of staring into the boar's eyes. Of all the animals of the world, he hated this one the most, he hated the way his father loved to hunt them, and how he'd come home from hunts everyday drenched in blood with a boar skull im his hands, from which his mother would recoil from, what with her hatred of the smell of iron.

Hatred, that's all that was there in Jay's life. And that's all there will be.

"Jay, we have to get back come on!" Sunghoon cried, his horse already galloping away. The boar was far too big for them to contain. "Jay?" Heeseung peered back, "Jay no!"

But the sturdy built man's ears heeded no warning as he stepped along to the boar, his sword clutched tightly in hand, the carving of his name in the metal shining bright, as if to warn the spirit of the forest that he has arrived.

"Hyung what's happe-" Jake and Sunghoon's horses had turned back to see why the eldest wasn't coming, only to see Jay stabbing at the boar, while Heeseung tried to get Lady, who was close to prancing away into the depths of the forest.

"Help me would ya!" Heeseung cried, flinging his rope around Lady's magnificent neck, to which Sunghoon and Jake came quick and flung their own ropes, "One of you help Jay!"

"I'll go!" Sunghoon's horse galloped towards Jay, but to his shock, he saw that the boar was already lying, its movements still, and Jay standing drenched in blood.

It was dead.

Jay's sword was decorated with ribbons of maroon.

"Jay what the..." Sunghoon began, but he could find no words. The boar had been big, two times the size and strength of any ordinary man, and now it was kneeling at Jay's command, kneeling dead and cold as a fish.

"It's dead." Jay growled, his breathing too heavy, and his hand clutching a particularly dark spot on his stomach, as Heeseung and Jake came to the scene, having calmed Lady down, "The tusk...."

"The tusk? What about the- Jay!" Heeseung cried, before jumping off his horse and quickly moving towards Jay's graceful falling figure.

The last thing Jay felt was the feeling of wet grass underneath his head, Heeseung's hand over his wrist, and the familiar scent of feminine lavender pressing over him before everything went dark as he had always wished for it to be.

Jay never cared much about his injuries. No matter how big or small they were, no matter if it was a paper cut to the thumb or an arrow head to the shoulder, he would simply say "Injuries happen, it's a part of life" and move on. Which proved to be a source of annoyance for his brothers, especially Jake, who had an eye for healing.

But Jay was a firm believer in the notion that twenty four hours a day simply wasn't enough. He wanted more, he craved for more, more time, more work. Although he wouldn't admit it, everyone was in unison with the fact that he was Paradoxica's biggest workaholic.

And when it came back to the topic of injuries, Jay would still keep working, whether or not he was stuck in bed, because Heeseung had forced him to stay there.

Heeseung remembered Jay's younger days. How Jay would whine and do nothing if he got even the tiniest splinter in his finger. How he would beg for a day off from studies if he merely stubbed his tie against the kitchen ladder while sneaking out to steal pastries. But the horrible incident had changed every aspect of Jay, and now, he wouldn't stop working if every limb in his body was broken.

"All for the good of the people" he reasoned.

Usually Mrs.Chun had taken care of him, scolded him too many times about taking rests whenever he'd come back from battles or fights with blood flowing out his nose. But even then he didn't care. So the vision of waking up to Mrs.Chun's berry scent was a norm for him whenever he'd get injured.

But now, the room wasn't berry scented, and nor was Mrs. Chun sitting in the corner, waiting for him to wake up.

A girl?

A girl, wearing Mrs.Chun's apron, had her head rested against his table, her eyes fluttered close.

Were his eyes tricking him or did Mrs.Chun suddenly become thirty years younger?

Feeling something heavy on his waist, Jay tried to lift his head from his pillow, letting out a guttural groan as he did. God what was hurting him so much? He could feel something hurting at his stomach.

"Your Majesty, lie back down." He heard someone say, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the girl bending over him, forcing him to lie back down on the bed.

Jay stared at her for a few moments, trying to remember who she is before the candle went off in his mind.

The apprentice.

You were Mrs.Chun's apprentice.

"Are you Mrs.Chun's apprentice?" Jay groaned, feeling his head throb and his fingers were aching too.

You nodded promptly, before pushing Jay gently back onto the bed as he tried to get back.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Your Majesty, but you aren't getting up for another two weeks. You were stabbed by a wild boar's tusk." You stated firmly, shocking Jay at how casually you had addressed him, "His Highness Heeseung told me to handcuff you to the bed if you even try to move."

"Handcuff me?" Jay chuckled, moving his body slightly to lessen the pressure on his legs, "Where are you even going to get-"

Jay's sentence was cut off abruptly as your hands pulled out a pair of heavy metal from a secret pocket in the olive green dress you were wearing, and held it in front of Jay, effectively silencing him.

"I'm sorry if that was rude, but you are my patient, Your Majesty.." Your mouth let out a chuckle, sending a weird sensation into Jay's stomach, which he had never felt before, "So, I will do anything and everything in order to make you rest."

"So what may I address you by, My lady?" Jay quizzed you, his head now no longer throbbing for some reason. He studied your features for a while, he thought your eyes were pretty, decorated by a thin lining of kohl. Your figure was pretty too, wrapped in the striking colour of the dress you were in, combined with the beautifully familiar way you wore your hair.

"Definetly not by 'My lady'." You chuckled, picking up your dress, and sinking into a curtsy, "Y/N, you may call me Y/N, Your Majesty."

"Pretty name." Jay complemented, watching you stand up straight from your curtsy and smile impishly at him.

"You've got to take your medicine now." You reached into your apron's pocket and pulled a big vial, which was filled with a bubbling, golden liquid, "Now, according to Mrs.Chun, tricks by pretty people often work on you."

"Pretty people?" Jay scoffed childishly, thinking about whether or not he thought Heeseung was pretty, as you measured out the liquid into a cup, "Mrs.Chun needs to have a check for up there. And do you really think you're pretty?"

You strode towards him with the cup in your hand, and smiled widely. "Well, pardon me Your Majesty, but from the way you were staring at me five minutes ago, yes. I do think I'm pretty."

"Don't get your ego up." Jay warned, taking the cup from you, letting his mind linger for a few minutes on how your delicate fingers brushed his scarred ones softly, "Your parents mus'nt have taught you manners did they?"

"Well, firstly, I don't have parents." You smiled, "And secondly I need to check your bandages, they seem to be bleeding again."

So that was what the pain radiating from his stomach was, Jay thought, as he looked down to see his bandages streaked a darker shade of red. He quickly gulped down the golden liquid in the cup, a visibly disgusted expression forming on his face at how bitter it was, and looked up at you, with widened eyes.

"So...?" He said, expectantly, seeing you fumble with some clean cloth, another vial of what looked like cream, and a safety pin.

"Tell me where it hurts when I change them alright?" You said gently, making his lay down on the bed again, "and uh..."

"What?" Jay questioned, seeing your eyes linger at his wound or more specifically, his ab muscles, "Oh you can touch them it's fine."

"Oh. Oh yeah alright." You said, feeling your face heat up slightly. Bandaging him when he was still unconscious was easier than this, when he was awake. God his stare was so attractive to you, even now, as you gently touched his bandages, replacing them with cleaner cloth, you tried hard not to brush your fingers against his abs.

"Enjoying the view?" Jay asked, a cockish sneer to his voice. "There's a view to enjoy Your Majesty?" You fired back, although you most certainly were enjoying staring at him.

"You're an interesting one." Jay said, trying to make small talk as you lightly pressed against the smaller wounds with the cream, "Y/N wasn't it?"

"Yep." You said with a pop of your lips, finishing wrapping his wounds with a slight tap to check if they were secure, "And please do stay in bed and don't work. If you need anything, I'm right outside. His highness Heeseung has told me to rest in the chambers opposite yours."

The chambers opposite to his, his parents' chambers. God did Jay hate that room, all big and filled with skulls from hunts.

"If you want to you can go home, I can manage on myself." Jay said, his eyes set on yours. Why was it so hard to maintain eye contact with you?

"I know how that idea works." You smiled again, bringing that weird sensation back into Jay's stomach, "I'll go and then you'll order someone to bring you your work, so His Highness Heeseung specifically asked me not to leave. I guess you're stuck with me Your Majesty." You curtsied to finish off the impression.

"Jay." He spoke again, to your confusion, which made him stifle a chuckle, "Please, call me Jay."

"Jay." You smiled to yourself, "Well, ring that bell if you need anything."

As you left the room, quietly shutting the door behind you, Jay had the sudden urge to kick his feet in the air. The room was filled with lavender scent, your lavender scent to be specific, and it gave Jay a sense of calm, which in turn reduced the pain radiating from his stab wound.

Well this would be an interesting two weeks.

"Your Majesty what on Earth are you doing?"

Jay froze in his position at hearing a stern voice. Your stern voice, to be precise.

"Resting?" He said, trying to hide his cheeky smile, as he slowly backed away from his table. Rolling your eyes, you quickly got him back to the bed, worried that his bandages will open back again. But the only thing Jay was worried about was that his work wasn't getting completed.

"How about this?" You asked, as you finally managed to wrestle him back to the bed, "I'll do the work for you, if you agree to rest. It's in that diary right?"

"I can't let you do that." Jay grumbled, reaching for your arm, as you hurried to get to the diary on his table. The cold touch of his hand on your warmer skin made you flinch heavily, which in turn made Jay pull his hand away.

"I'm sorry." Jay quickly apologised, as you rubbed your arm, "I- That's my private diary, I don't really allow people to see it."

"Oh, my apologies then." You curtsied, still rubbing your arm, feeling extremely cold for some reason, even if the warm daylight was coming into the room through the window, "Your Majesty-"

"Jay." He corrected, shooting you the tiniest fragment of a smile.

"Jay." You said again, this time feeling more at ease, "You've got to rest, I'm begging you. Those bandages won't magically heal you until you rest. If there's anything I can do to get you to rest, I'll do it."

Jay's ears weren't actually listening to anything. His mind was too distracted again, by your scent. God damn his strong sense of smell, but you smelled like memories he wanted to forget.

"Tell me what perfume you use and then I won't work." Jay looked up at you with a cheeky smile. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable to show you his smile, which he didn't often feel with the ladies in their paraffin socks.

"I- that's a peculiar question." You said, not knowing what to feel aboutthe actual King asking you about your perfume.

"I swear on my own grave that I will rest if the great healer Y/N tells me her perfume." Jay recited, keeping his hand on his chest for dramatic effect.

"It's the lavender one we get in the town square from Marcella's." You raised your chin up high, "Now would you rest?"

"Hmmm let me think." Jay dramatically sighed, "No."

"Your Majesty, I will beg." You breathed desperately, "I will seriously-"

"Your collarbone." Jay interrupted, his attention diverting from your eyes to your shoulder, "There's something on your collarbone."

Jay took note of the way your eyes flickered quickly and worriedly to your collarbone, and how you rushed to pull the sleeve of your dress up to cover it, clearing your throat afterwards to clear the awkward air.

"Are you-"

"Your Majesty, I admire the way you hold so much strivance for your work but you really must rest if you wish to keep working for the rest of your life."

The atmosphere of the room had a drastic change, Jay could feel it, as you quickly curtsied, said a quick "excuse me" and hurried off towards the exit.

That wasn't a stain or a birth mark on your shoulder Jay knew it, as he leant back comfortably, and decided to follow your advice for a while.

He'd seen dark marks like that on someone he once knew and loved.

And something in him asked him not to rest (unless it was pretending for you) until he figured out where that bruise the size of a man's hand, came from.

Part 2 coming soon....

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436

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babyleostuff · 1 year

Note

Hi lovely I was reading your works and it's so good, serious genuinely everything is perfect I'm addicted💗I wanna request only if you have time obviously, a Jeonghan as your boyfriend pretty please💗 Thanks

thank you some much for your request love! hope you enjoy this and have a great day <3

JEONGHAN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | a lot of fluff

author’s note | if you want me to do this with any other member, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 he is always so so gentle with you

𓆩♡𓆪 in his eyes, you’re the most precious thing in the world

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves to baby you and dote on you, because you’re so adorable to him

𓆩♡𓆪 he adores being domestic with you - doing the dishes, the laundry, cleaning your apartment and watching movies/ dramas when eating late dinner after work

𓆩♡𓆪 it brings him so much peace and inner comfort, especially after a busy day with schedules or when he comes home from tour

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re like his little battery charger, he swears he gaines back his energy when he’s with you

𓆩♡𓆪 a sucker for holding hands and quiet forms of affection (even if only your pinkies are linked, it’s enough for him)

𓆩♡𓆪 as long as you’re next to him, everything is alright

𓆩♡𓆪 hugs and cuddling are a big part of your relationship as well

𓆩♡𓆪 after being away from you, he craves your touch and it’s almost as if it has some healing properties

𓆩♡𓆪 but in reality the hugs and cuddling are so great, because of how much you love each other

𓆩♡𓆪 and it’s your silent way of taking care of each other

𓆩♡𓆪 he always makes sure you know that you can count on him, no matter how busy he is - you’re his number one priority

𓆩♡𓆪 when you’re sick or feeling unwell he is always there for you, ready to become a certificated nurse

𓆩♡𓆪 even when you tell him to leave you alone, as not to get him sick as well, he never leaves your side

𓆩♡𓆪 and if he has to because of work, he always checks up on you, making you promise that you’ll text him if you get worse

𓆩♡𓆪 he just feels so bummed seeing you feeling bad and it always brings his mood down, so he wants you to get healthy as soon as possible

𓆩♡𓆪 going on late night walks are your favourite

𓆩♡𓆪 the town is a lot more quiet than during the day and it brings a sense of comfort to both of you

𓆩♡𓆪 you don’t even need to talk much, you just walk around the neighbourhood holding hands and appreciating each others company

𓆩♡𓆪 your whole relationship basically feels like a safety blanket, that you can hide under

𓆩♡𓆪 he makes you feel safe and loved 24/7

𓆩♡𓆪 if you ever point out a flaw in you or get insecure (which you should not, because you’re BEAUTIFUL) he just goes: “YAH 😒” and kisses you all over your face, telling you how beautiful and amazing you are

𓆩♡𓆪 he does NOT let you feel bad about yourself, not even once

𓆩♡𓆪 he teaches you his mastery of cheating, that you can use during game nights with the rest of the boys

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re the unbeatable couple and even with the rest of the boys knowing that you’re probably cheating, they do nothing to stop you

𓆩♡𓆪 they know that there is no point in doing so (because you’re going to find another way to cheat their asses)

𓆩♡𓆪 loves seeing you in his clothes, it makes him go 🥰 🥰 🥰

𓆩♡𓆪 especially during autumn and winter, you’re just so cuddly and huggable that he cannot resist you and hugs you at least every 15 minutes

𓆩♡𓆪 which makes you go 🙄, but it’s okay because he’s pretty and you cannot resist him either

𓆩♡𓆪 he also becomes quite sulky and pouty if you don’t pay enough attention to him

𓆩♡𓆪 like: hello, your boyfriend is in need of some extra attention (and some kisses too)

𓆩♡𓆪 despite his loving and caring nature, he teases you a lot

𓆩♡𓆪 brings up random embarrassing situations from your past and laughs about it, making you go 😐

𓆩♡𓆪 but he never crosses the line with the jokes and never makes you feel bad about yourself, it’s all just for fun and games

𓆩♡𓆪 is committed to being the little spoon in your relationship and is not afraid of admitting it

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re just so comfy and he feels so safe in your arms

𓆩♡𓆪 but just one word from you and he becomes the big spoon

𓆩♡𓆪 anything for his baby

𓆩♡𓆪 even if he’s not the most adventurous person on the planet, you’re never bored with him

𓆩♡𓆪 every second spent together is precious to you and you cherish it dearly

your messages <3

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borathae · 2 years

Text

"All it takes is one evening of getting Yoongi drunk to find out just how needy this man can actually get. Alternatively: Yoongi is drunk and that means his restraints are gone. So he decides to ride you, because that's all he really wants to do."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, Dom!Reader, he is cute & a lil bratty & also a total painslut, then his instincts kick in and he becomes so fucking needy, like SO NEEDY, she is so gentle but also slaps his face like twice, she calls him a good boy & a slut, consensual drunk sex, needy pegging in cowboy & lotus position, lotsa making out, butt spanking, cock slapping, anal fingering, handjob, blowjob, edging (m.receiving), multiple orgasms (m.& f.receiving), prostate milking, so much cum, so much drool, he squirts, belly bulging :’), vaginal fingering, he has his fangs out, biting, a very vocal Yoongi, i just need him to know that he is cute, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 10.8k

a/n: this is Sanguis!Yoongi when he is drunk and trusts her completely. It's so cute and hot and I just want him to be happy. hahah help me. I love them so much, I'm gonna rip off my own face skin and cry about them

“I wanna be fucked”, Yoongi whines against your neck, pressing your hand to his clothed crotch. He begins rubbing himself against it, lips parting in a needy moan.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna be fucked, please”, he is lulling his words, tugging you closer as he tries to get your hand inside his pants.

“And you decided that in the middle of the hallway?” you laugh, feeling your stomach tingle in excitement. He is so needy. It’s so hot when he is.

“Yeah”, he whines, “come please. Come”, he orders in a huff of air and tugs you with him as he stumbles to your wing.

“Okay, okay I'm already coming. Holy moly, you really didn’t do well with that wine, did you?”

“No”, Yoongi giggles the word. Yeah. He giggles. He giggles as he shakes his head and lifts his shoulders to his ears, adding two little skips into his steps on top of that.

“Okay, wait. Love, slow-“

The door falls closed.

Your back hits it.

Yoongi cages you in and grabs your face to kiss you.

Deep.

Passionate.

Needy.

And sloppy.

He tastes like desire and wine. He sounds desperate. Feels like fucking heaven. His knee is between your legs, punching up the fabric of your floor length dress and grinding right against your pussy. The thin fabric of your panties does little to mask how amazing his thigh feels.

“Fuck Yoongi”, you rasp, tilting your head back. The kiss breaks but he litters your neck with wet kisses instantly.

“Fuck me”, Yoongi answers you in a keen, dragging his tongue up your pulse point until he ends it with a flick right under your ear, “wanna be fucked, please”, he begs in a whisper, letting his voice tickle your ear.

You went out tonight. Like every year, the university hosted its late autumn masquerade ball and like always, you wanted to go. As did Taehyung and the boys of former Sanguis and, well, Yoongi wanted to go too once he saw how excited you were. He went with a suit and black mask like every year, while you went with the prettiest dress inspired by the Regency period and an intricately done venetian mask. Taehyung made it for you. Your masks have long been discarded by the front door. As has Yoongi’s long coat somewhere on the endless hallways of the estate.

You had so much fun at the ball. There was zero drama and even less danger. Just dancing, laughter and way too much booze. One should also mention that you did a lot of making out and that Hoseok ended up winning the costume contest with his realistic Mothman costume (it looked hotter than it sounds, promise). Back to the booze however. You drank a lot, all of you, to the point where you had to call a cab back to the estate because none of you were able to drive. Yes, even Yoongi. The Creator who normally never gets drunk because he'll heal before that could happen. Not tonight however, no amount of healing will get this man sober again. And you love it because drunk Yoongi means clingy Yoongi and that’s one of your favourites.

Most of you arrived home safely except for Hoseok who refused to come as he met a woman at the ball and he wanted to spend the night with her. The others were all busy too. At Seokjin's place. No further details needed.

Which left you and Yoongi stumbling to your wing and Yoongi acting the horniest you have ever witnessed him act.

You witnessed Yoongi drunk one time before tonight. It was back when you were still on the road and you came back from a dance. That night will always stay in your memories. It truly will.

Yoongi swoops you off your feet, making you squeak because you didn’t expect it.

He grunts, swaying from side to side dangerously.

“Don’t drop me, I’m serious”, you warn in a laugh.

“I’ve got you”, he lulls, stumbling down the hallways, “kiss me, wanna be kissed please.”

“Mhm my prince”, you sigh, kissing him gladly.

It was strange at first to return to university after everything you went through. People looked at you weird, but you tried to ignore them. The masquerade ball is too much fun to miss out on. Especially this year when the world was finally safe. Even Yoongi let loose, asking you for one dance in the ballroom while the others got drunk in the disco. It was very nice, but also the moment you realised just how wasted Yoongi was as he whined about how pretty you were in front of other people and he never does that.

Thump.

“Ah Yoongs”, you gasp.

“Sorry.”

Yoongi just hit the door with your back, now fumbling with the doorknob to open it.

“You said you’ll be careful”, you whine.

“Sorry”, he tries to kiss you, “don’t be mad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I guess”, you giggle, “what are you doing?”

“Tryna open the door. Is it stuck or something, the fuck?” he tries to wiggle the doorknob.

“You gotta push.”

Yoongi does it with little pressure. The door opens instantly.

“Oh”, he lets out, sneaky a shy glance at you, “I knew that.”

“Mhm sure”, you say and chuckle, “kiss me, you idiot.”

“You's mean”, he mumbles and leans in to kiss you. He stumbles to your bed, dropping you on top of it and without ever breaking the kiss, he climbs atop your lap. He plops down, moving his hips back and forth in a needy grind while his hands are cradling your face. Your legs are tangling over the edge, as are his feet.

“I'm mean?” you ask him in a chuckle.

“Yeah. You messing with my heart. It keeps racing”, he says, guiding your hand to his chest, “feel it.”

“Yoongs, your heart stopped beating three thousand years ago.”

“Oh yeah”, he flutters his lashes, “doesn’t matter. Being with you's making me feel flutters in it”, he says, tapping his chest with your hand, “right there. Tingles so much.”

You twist his shirt and pull him close. Yoongi falls with a surprised gasp, gasping again when you kiss him deeply. He grows limp atop of you, except for his hips. They begin wiggling like crazy. And his feet. He begins kicking them happily.

He cups your face, breaking the kiss solely for the purpose of littering your face in big smooches.

“Loveyou, you's the best, loveyousomuch”, he slurs his words but they are clear to you.

“You are so drunk”, you giggle in a squeak.

“Ye, drunk on you”, he retorts, wiggling cutely, “is what you said to me. Remember?”

“Ye. I do.”

Yoongi kisses up and down your nose, moving on to your left cheek. He makes loud kissing noises, mixing in the occasional "mwuah" or a lulled confession of his eternal love.

Truly, drunk Yoongi is the most precious treasure on earth. Freed of his restraints and anxiety, he finally becomes who he wants to be deep down. This is him. This is the real Yoongi. And you can’t get enough of him.

Yoongi ends his love attack by sucking in your cheek and biting it gently.

“Ah Yoongi”, you gasp, moving away.

He releases you with a bop, gawking at you with puckered lips.

“What?”

“You bit me.”

“I did not.”

You snicker, reaching up it squish his cheeks.

“You're so cute.”

He huffs out air, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips, using his tongue for it until you moan and kiss him back with just as much passion.

Yoongi is the best kisser on earth. No. In the universe. Gentle but so passionate. Sweet but so rough. Loving and oh so skilled. Kissing him is paradise. Kissing him while you are both stupidly drunk? The best experience ever. You don’t ever want to stop. He makes you so happy. He feels so right. He is so perfect.

Overwhelmed by your feelings you break the kiss to litter his face with kisses.

“My cutie. My Yoongi Boongie. My handsome prince”, you mumble, kissing every inch of his perfect face.

Yoongi lets it happen with squeezed shut eyes and his prettiest gummy smile. He kicks his feet the whole time, wiggling his hips because nothing in the world could contain the happiness he currently feels.

You end your love attack by kissing his lips, falling back into the most passionate kiss ever. You are smiling so much, holding each other, feeling so high on one another.

His fingers begin fumbling with your dress. Clumsily and without any sort of plan in mind. Their only goal is to get you out of that dress.

“Shit. Goddamn it”, Yoongi breaks the kiss to curse under his breath.

“What's wrong?”

“Your dress's not opening. Why's it not opening?”

“Maybe ‘cause you're tugging on the collar instead of the lacing?”

“Oh”, his fingers slip, “I knew that. Just wanted to test you”, he mumbles, changing his grip to finally open your dress.

“Yeah, sure you did”, you say in a chuckle.

You sit up to help him, giggling when Yoongi gets off your lap to fall to his knees before you. He tugs the dress down your legs, caressing your ankles as he helps you step out of the big heap of fabric. He discards it on the floor and moves on to taking off your shoes.

Once they are discarded as well, he lowers himself to place a worshipping kiss upon your left instep.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes mesmerised by him. You are towering over him atop your big bed while he lays worshiping by your feet. You feel hot all over because of it.

Yoongi kisses your right instep as well, ending it with a little hiccup.

“Scuse me”, he lifts his head, “I'm so drunk. You have really pretty feet.”

“Well thank you, my prince”, you say and giggle, lifting your foot to dance it up and down the buttons of his dress shirt. Yoongi arches into the touch, presenting his palms on his lap as if he was made to do so.

He is fully dressed while you are barely clothed. Only a matching set of satin lingerie is keeping you modest. Yoongi can’t seem to take his eyes off of it, breathing heavily while his thighs squeeze together desperately.

“Can I see you tonight?” you ask him, trying to open his bow tie with your toes. You are failing miserably.

Yoongi replaces your toes with his fingers, opening the tie and letting it drop on the ground. He begins opening his dress shirt afterwards, submissive eyes glued to your face. This is his answer. He feels really sexy tonight. He knows that it is because of the booze. The knowledge doesn’t stop him, on the contrary, it encourages him. If he ends up doing something embarrassing, he can just blame it on being too drunk and then you won’t be able to judge him. He feels so confident tonight. Confident and like the hottest person ever born.

He drops his shirt on the floor, gasping softly when you stop his fingers from opening his belt by stepping on his hand.

“Stand up”, you order.

Yoongi obeys, getting to his feet before you. You tug him closer by his belt. Yoongi stumbles with wobbly knees, feeling his stomach tingle. He loves it so much when you are rough with him. He stumbles, catching himself on your shoulder.

“Careful”, you giggle, hugging his middle with your cheeks squished against his soft tummy.

“Sorry, is really hard to stand”, he lulls, hugging you back.

“I know, I’ll be fast”, you say, placing a loving kiss on his tummy before lifting your head. You smile at him, eyes spilling over with love. You are still hugging his waist, “you're so handsome, my love.”

“Thanks”, Yoongi mumbles, swaying his shoulders from side to side. Your sweet words only strengthen tonight's feelings. He is so, so sexy and handsome. Yoongi loves feeling that way. It makes his tummy all tingly and his brain all fuzzy.

You turn your head and bite him.

“Ah”, he gasps, cupping your head.

It was a gentle bite. Nothing more than a nibble of love. But it was on his tummy. And his tummy is terribly sensitive. Yoongi rubs his thighs together, swaying like crazy.

“Don't do that”, he whines.

You release his skin, “why?” you ask, gazing up at him with sparkly eyes.

“Feels so much”, he whispers, scratching the spot you bit.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Ye.”

You scrunch your nose up, giving him a blinding smile. One last kiss to his tummy and you sadly release him, moving on to getting his pants down. He slips out of his shoes as you work, wanting to waste as little time as possible.

The belt buckle hits his thigh as you let it fall open. It doesn't hurt, merely making a metallic clinking sound.

Yoongi is holding his breath, looking down at you with his lower lip between his teeth. You are opening his pants. One button at a time until it is finally done. You run your hands to his butt, slipping them inside the pants and tugging them down but not before squeezing his round buttocks.

He gasps because of it, feeling dizzy. The pants fall down, pooling by his feet. You touch his hips, tugging him closer. Yoongi steps out of his clothes, finally he is freed of them. He would feel really self conscious on other days, but tonight he feels good. He is so handsome when he is naked. That’s how he feels.

Your eyes are glued to his clothed cock. It is already straining the fabric of his black briefs.

“All mine”, you whisper, making his knees buckle.

“___”, he moans your name, climbing onto your lap messily. He grinds against your thighs instantly, kissing you with a needy mewl.

You chuckle because the kiss surprised you, breaking it just so you can grin at him.

“I'm yours”, he lulls, “is true. All yours”, he says, fighting you gently just so he can kiss you again.

“You're so freaking cute”, you say, “goddamn it Yoongi, I love you like crazy.”

“Love you too”, he mumbles, hiding his giddiness by pushing you into the sheets and burying his face in your neck. He begins kissing your skin instantly, nibbling and sucking on it until you feel lightheaded. The thing with Yoongi is that he loves biting. Obviously because he is a vampire. He loves biting, but he doesn’t want to go too far, which results in those really tingly and gentle bites all over your body. And they drive you insane. Truly insane.

Yoongi whines, lifting his head. He is pouting at you.

“Why? What’s wrong now?” you whine and chuckle.

“I wanna suck your tits. Why do you have a bra on?”

“Tzt, crybaby”, you arch your back off the mattress, “open it.”

Yoongi follows gladly, opening the clasp in the back and pulling the straps off your arms. He throws the piece of clothing over his back.

“That's really expensive, just saying”, you snicker.

“Is fine”, he dismisses you and gathers your breasts just to bury his face in them.

“Mhhm Yoongi”, you sigh, closing your eyes in delight. His lips are so soft, his tongue so eager. He is nibbling again, biting and sucking every inch of your chest without ever going too far. It feels so good. His fingers caress your skin as he kisses you. He adds just a little bit of strength every now and then, sending electric sparks through your veins each time he does.

Yoongi giggles, kicking his feet happily. He is so, so happy. You are so perfect and the fact that he can kiss you feels so, so good.

He lifts his head only to rest his cheek on your breasts, sparkly eyes gazing up at you.

“You're so pretty”, he whispers, sparkles in his eyes growing, “and soft and warm and perfect. You's so perfect.”

You smile, running the back of your hand over his cheek, “you're so cute.”

Yoongi looks away, wiggles and then attacks you with the tightest hug in human history. You squeak, allowing him to shake you around as he does everything in his power to squeeze you against him.

Somehow in the sweet mess of it all, he managed to change positions so you were fully resting on the bed now, heads supported by pillows and toes facing the foot end.

Yoongi breaks the hug, but stays close enough that he can kiss your neck. He is humping the side of your leg, panting against your skin.

One arm is still under your head while the other is draped over your tummy. Not for long however, just as Yoongi begins mewling softly and his cock is oh so hard against your leg, his hand begins traveling down your body, soon disappearing inside your panties.

You open your legs happily, sighing his name when his fingers begin feeling up your pussy.

“So wet”, he whispers, drawing circles on your soaked entrance.

“It's your fault”, you answer him in a sigh.

Yoongi snorts and giggles, rubbing against you in a giddy squirm.

“You always say so much”, he whines, “so mean.”

“I'm not mean I'm-oh”, you struggle with your words because Yoongi just buried two of his fingers inside of you and is now moving them in and out carefully, “I-I'm telling the…truth.”

Oh, he's got you so sensitive already. Being with Yoongi does that to you. You like him so, so much and being with him makes you so eager for his touches that whenever he finally gives them to you, you can barely even handle them. It feels so nice to be touched by Yoongi. Especially when he is as perfect and cute and amazing as he is tonight.

You slip your hand into his briefs, palming his cock.

“Wait”, he gasps, tensing up.

“What's wrong? Don’t want it?”

“No, is just that. Wanna be naked.”

He abandons you for just a second as he wiggles out of his briefs. You do the same, watching him with the biggest heart eyes ever. Whatever was in the wine tonight made him brave. You are so giddy. Normally it takes Yoongi at least an hour of sex to feel safe enough to undress and now he is doing it willingly during foreplay. He is so perfect when he is like that.

Yoongi drops into the sheets and shimmies back to you. You roll to your side, kissing his lips with sighs of his name. Yoongi purrs, kissing you back with a dizzy head. It happens naturally that his hand slips back between your legs. You lift your leg, draping it over his hips to give him better access. Yoongi buries his fingers back in your pussy, forcing a shudder to run through you.

“Feels so good”, you whisper.

“Good, you’re so pretty”, he whispers.

“Yoongi.”

“What's it?”

“Yoongi, you feel so good”, you sigh, gazing into his eyes.

He seems mesmerised by you, eyes racing between yours.

“I'm so drunk”, he whispers.

“Me too”, you snicker.

“You're not real. I'm so drunk, you can’t be real”, he lulls.

“Does that feel real?” you ask him, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You give him slow strokes up and down as best as possible in the position, putting more pressure each time you reach his tip.

“Y-yeah”, Yoongi croaks, squeezing his eyes shut, "oh god", he huffs out and whimpers softly.

“It's real, Yoongs”, you promise him.

“You's real”, he sighs, throbbing in your hand, “I'm so lucky”, he adds in a barely there whisper.

“I'm lucky too”, you breathe, closing your eyes as you fall into the sensation.

Soft moans, gasps for air, sounds of eager touches. The room fills with the melodies of your pleasure, mixing with the ruffling of sheets and the sounds of kissing each time one of you steals a kiss or two. You both know you won’t be able to orgasm soon. You are too drunk for that. But you don’t mind because it’s so goddamn amazing to be close and to touch each other and to feel those nice tingles of a loving hand for as long as you want to. You don’t want to climax because being with each other like that, all dizzy and droopy and bursting with happiness, is the best reward ever.

Yoongi stubs you with his nose, calling your attention. Your eyes meet. He looks so droopy. His face is glowing now that you are sharing so much heat with each other.

“Finger me”, he lulls.

Your hand around his cock falters.

“I'm sorry?” you gasp.

“Want your fingers up my butt. Please”, he begs, wiggling his hips.

“Hot. What the hell? Hot?”

“Please?”

“Uh heck yeah? This is the hottest thing you ever said. Let me just get the lube.”

You hate that you have to end the amazing thing you currently had going on, but this is more important. Yoongi never asks for things. At least not for himself. He'll take what you give him, but he will never ask for more. Even while you are doing something he won’t ask for another spot to be touched and you are left figuring it out yourself by accidentally touching his favourite spots and making his body shake involuntarily. So to have him ask you to do something to him, especially butt stuff, makes you want to squeal. This is the best night ever.

Yoongi is on his back once you return, welcoming you back by grabbing your waist and scrunching his nose up.

“I can't believe you're letting me do that to you.”

“Want it so bad”, Yoongi says and opens his legs, “is that good? Want another position?”

“No. No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect”, you say, having to kiss him because otherwise you would have exploded in emotion. He is the best person ever.

Yoongi kisses you back, mewling quietly.

“You're so perfect. My perfect man”, you mumble, feeling him up desperately.

Yoongi barely handles the touches, writhing under you with flutters in his tummy. His skin is so sensitive. Your palm is so soft and warm. He can’t handle how good you make him feel.

The kiss breaks once you reach his inner thighs, Yoongi has more important things to do. Like gasp your name and part his pouty lips. His skin feels electric wherever you touch it.

“The prettiest. You’re so pretty”, you praise, “and soft. Why are you so soft?”

“I'm soft”, he repeats, wiggling his toes.

“Yeah you are. Wanna keep squeezing you”, you say, squishing his inner thigh right next to his cock.

Yoongi keens, parting his legs more. It tickles, but also feels intense. His cock begins aching because of it, yearning for a touch.

You don’t give it to him, which he dislikes at first until he can feel your touch on his balls. You massage them gently, forcing the warmest sparks to course through his tummy.

“Except for there. You’re so hard”, you say, squeezing them until it hurts.

Yoongi gasps, opening his legs further. His balls feel like bursting.

Slap.

“Mo-oh my god”, he chokes out and arches his back.

“That was a reward for being so cute”, you tell him.

“Want it again”, he begs, touching your tummy with shaky fingers. He scratches your skin softly, “please.”

And because he is so adorable right now, you can’t deny him. You slap his balls a second time, ending it with a harsh squeeze.

Yoongi moans in gratefulness, letting his eyes fall closed by rolling them back first.

“You're so sexy like this. Fuck, Yoongi”, you rasp, spanking him one last time before moving on to a new spot. You know better than to keep going. Yoongi can - and did - cum from cock torture and you don’t want this to happen. Yet.

Yoongi wants to complain at first, but doesn’t when he feels your fingers brush against his hole. Just once and nothing more than a feather light touch. He is so sensitive that it felt a million times more intense however. He chases you, tilting his hips to make it easier for you. He drops them again the second you touch him, veins filling with tingles.

You put more pressure than last time, drawing circles.

“Feels so good”, he sighs, seeking you by rolling his head to the side. Like this he can almost bury his face in your tits.

“And I haven’t even started yet”, you whisper, sending shivers down his spine. You sound so confident. Yoongi feels dizzy. You are so hot like this.

Your touch retreats for a moment. A click lets Yoongi know that you are covering your fingers in lube. Another click as you close the bottle then you touch his rim.

“Ah”, he gasps, twitching in surprise.

“Sorry, was that too cold?”

“No, is good”, he says, shivering when you begin moving, “is so good. You so good.”

“You're so sensitive”, you put the slightest sound of teasing into your voice, making Yoongi huff out air.

He flusters way too easily. He can’t bear to be teased. Especially not tonight when his senses are so heightened because of the booze. Of course he is sensitive. He danced with you and kissed you and you called him handsome so many times. He had to get sensitive. It was unavoidable.

“Now take a deep breath for me”, you whisper.

Yoongi obeys, releasing it a second later despite his efforts. He can’t help it, your finger is in his ass and that feels so good.

“Slipped right in. Wow my Boongie, you’re so greedy, aren’t you?”

He nods his head vigorously.

“Love your finger. Is so good.”

“Of course you do”, you whisper, moving it in and out of him slowly. To get him used to it. To feel him up. To enjoy his tight warmth for as long as possible.

“Don't stop”, he whispers, adding a breathy “please” as he widens his eyes at you. His pouty lips are parted and his sparkly eyes widened. He looks so cute right now.

“Oh my Boongie, you’re so cute”, you giggle, scrunching your nose up before leaning down and rubbing the tip of your nose against his’. His eyes flutter closed, a sigh slips past his lips, “my dearest love”, you whisper, curling your finger in search for his favourite spot.

“Good, is good it’s- ah, a-ah”, Yoongi gets out, voice pitched in surprised pleasure.

“There? Right there?” you ask, massaging the spot inside of him.

Yoongi opens his legs, thighs twitching involuntarily. He purrs deeply, scrunching his nose up as he nods his head.

“Yeah, right there”, you rasp, drinking in his expression, “you're taking me so well, my prince.”

It is fascinating just how tight and warm he feels around you. Truly, Yoongi’s warmth is so addicting and quite frankly, adorable as well. You realised that whenever he is close to you and he feels especially happy, he becomes warmer than on normal days. As if your presence in itself gives him enough nutrition for his body to heat up. You love to cuddle him whenever that happens, which results in Yoongi purring happily and becoming even warmer.

“You're burning up, love”, you whisper, kissing his temple.

“Feels so good”, Yoongi sighs, “one more, please.”

You slip your ring finger inside, eliciting a raspy purr from him. It vibrates deep in his chest and is filled with his honest bliss.

“Like this?”

He nods his head, cock twitching angrily as you scissor your fingers.

“You're so tight, I’m surprised that you can take me.”

Yoongi peels his eyes open, frowning at you.

“What?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Don't slutshame me.”

“Slutshame you?” You snort, “what are you talking about?”

Yoongi closes his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, no I'm not. Are you telling me that you’re my slut? Mhm Yoongi? Is that it?”

“No it’s not. Stop. Take your fingers out. I don’t want it.”

“No? You don’t? So if I do this, you don’t want it?” you challenge, curling your fingers against his prostate. You begin massaging it, forcing him to gasp and shudder.

You get to your knees between his legs and wrap your hand around his cock.

“And if I do this, you don’t want it?” you taunt, jerking him off quickly as you continue fingering his greedy bum. Quick and hard, just like you jerk off his leaking cock. It’s what deserves for pretending that he isn’t into it.

Yoongi squeaks and grips your hand with trembling fingers. He writhes, thighs trying to close in a desperate attempt to flee from the harsh fingering. It’s too much, Yoongi doesn’t know how to handle it. It feels too good.

“Mhm? If I do this, you don’t want it? Mhm?” you challenge with hunger in your eyes. He is shaking so much, it’s so cute. His bum looks so good taking the harsh finger fuck, his cock is all twitchy and leaky.

“___”, Yoongi gasps and lets out a loud “ah” followed by a whiney moan. He is trying so hard to get your hand to stop, weak fingers barely closing around your wrist.

“So cute. You’re so cute when you're shaking. You’re such a cute, little slut, Yoongi love. Such a cutie”, you coo, forcing his cock to leak all over your fingers.

“Please not so, so fast”, he begs, squeezing your wrist weakly.

“Why?”

“Cum”, he gets out and arches his back with a whiney little sound escaping him.

He feels fucked. Your fingers are so fast and know exactly where to touch. It’s like you're already fucking him. That, mixed with the dizziness of the booze and Yoongi swears he is going to crumble any second now.

“Please slow”, he begs, gasping for air.

“Cute”, you rasp and slow down, but only so you could take him into your mouth. Yoongi arches off the mattress, fingers twisting the sheets and cute hole squeezing around your digits. You are fucking them in and out of him slowly and to their fullest, giving Yoongi a taste of how it feels to be stretched out over and over again. He takes you so well, sounding oh so perfect doing it.

“No please”, he gasps, “___, please”, he whimpers, throbbing in your mouth.

He tastes so good. Like desperation and pleasure. You love it so much, slurping it up hungrily. His cock fits down your throat so nicely. Yoongi normally hates it when you deep throat him. Not because he dislikes the feeling, on the contrary he loves it, but because he is always scared that he will make you gag and therefore uncomfortable. He doesn’t have to worry about that tonight, because you are drunk. And when you are drunk, your gag reflex ceases to exist. It’s probably the added boost of confidence. You won’t ever complain, it feels so fucking empowering to be able to take his entire cock down your throat without needing to gag.

Yoongi is appreciating it as well, thighs trembling like crazy and hole pulsating around your fingers.

“You're really un-unfair”, he stutters, punching up the sheets with his toes as he curls them. Nothing else helps. He is getting his ass fingered and his cock throat fucked. He wasn’t ready for what he bargained for when he asked you to finger him. You are too good and way too eager to destroy him.

You slip off of him, allowing your drool to drip down on him. It runs down his veiny shaft until it soils his dark pubes, marking him as your property.

“So you don’t want this?” you rasp, playing with your spit, “mhm? You don’t want any of it?”

Yoongi swallows heavily, recovering for a short moment with quick pants for air.

You pull your fingers out, anticipating his reaction.

“No”, he whines breathily, “no, back. Please back”, he whispers and you hear him.

You do. But you want to tease him. You press your wet fingers against his soft rim, drawing slow circles on it. It’s remarkable how relaxed and loosened up he already feels.

“Back”, he breathes.

“Mhm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you”, you tease.

Yoongi places his hands on the back of your head, pushing you down shyly. He bucks his hips up, hitting your nose with his cock. It makes you giggle because it was funny to be nudged with his cock.

“Please”, he whispers.

“You're so fucking cute”, you gush, taking him back into your mouth. He glides over your tongue until your throat hugs him tightly. Only then, do you stuff your fingers back into him, using your wrist to control the movements. Deep and quickened and just enough to force him to twitch inside your mouth over and over again. You moan deliciously and begin bopping your head up and down, going fast because it makes him whine so cutely.

Yoongi grips the sheets again, hitting his head against the pillow twice before he decides to arch his back instead.

“More fingers please”, he begs, shaking when you purr around his cock. Deeply and deliciously. The stretch of his hole which follows makes him shake again. You listened, now burying your pointer finger in his butt as well. Deep and so thick. Your fingers in that position stretch him out so much.

“___”, Yoongi moans, “___ please. Please.”

Yoongi is awkward. About literally everything, but especially about his sexuality. Now. He never looked for labels or definitions. If a person attracts him sexually then so be it, he never cared about what was between their legs or what that would make him. He does care about how he fucks however, what he receives and how he receives it. Because receiving is hard for him, especially butt stuff. He doesn’t let anyone other than you close to this part of his body. It’s too intimate, makes him too vulnerable and requires a level of trust only you – and maybe Jungkook – achieved. So yes, Yoongi is awkward about butt stuff. Even if he loves it so much. So, so much. But this right here? This right here makes him want to keep begging you and act like a complete slut. This is the endgame. The real deal and he is burning up.

“Thank you”, he croaks, thighs shaking each time you fuck your fingertips against his prostate.

You moan around his cock, sending sparks through his veins. He is too sensitive.

“I'm gonna- ah”, he gasps, gripping your hair and twisting it desperately, “you're making me cum”, he croaks, relaxing his muscles in preparation for the warmest most amazing high ever.

Stop.

Pain and suffering.

Agony.

Yoongi has to sob and writhe.

You stopped.

Slipped off his cock, removed your fingers. They are gripping his thighs now, forcing him to stay open even if all he wants to do is close his legs and rub them together.

You laugh. Tauntingly and with enough craze in it to make Yoongi’s skin crawl in hot, dumb pleasure.

“You didn’t actually think that I'd let you cum did you?” you ask and laugh, “oh Yoongi, you’re so gullible.”

Yoongi whines and wraps his fingers around his cock, trying to jerk it off. Anything please.

Slap!

You slapped them away instantly.

“Ah”, he gasps, peeling his eyes open just in time to watch you place yourself atop of him. His legs, you force to stay open by keeping his thighs thrown over yours. Like this, your crotch is pressed right against his ass, taunting him because there is no cock inside him but all he wants is for you to stuff him with your strap.

His grabby, misbehaving hands you pin right above his head, digging your fingers into him in a strong grip.

“Keep those hands where they belong. Hear me?” you growl.

Yoongi rarely falls into subspace. Entering that state means giving up control and letting another person see the part of him he is most ashamed of. He thinks there is nothing wrong with wanting to be like that when other people want it, but he thinks it’s embarrassing when he wants to be like that. You however make it easy to fall. And fun. And quite frankly you make him love every fucking second of it. He feels so tiny and weak and that’s all he wants right now. That and your strap.

“Yeah”, he gets out.

“You do? So why did you try to touch yourself, mhm?”

“I'm a slut”, he lulls, going dizzy under your piercing gaze.

“No, that’s not it is it? Tell me the truth.”

Yoongi shakes his head, earning himself an aggressive roll of your hips. He mewls, wishing for another one.

“Tell me Yoongi, tell me.”

“I'm a brat”, he keens, rubbing himself against you by wiggling his hips needily. He needs the friction, needs to feel as if you are already fucking him. Oh god, it doesn’t feel the same. Yoongi wants to cry, why doesn’t it feel the same? He needs to be fucked so bad.

“Exactly. You’re a brat”, you rasp, abandoning his wrists to scratch down his arms.

Yoongi keeps them above his head naturally, mewling your name with closed eyes. He opens them a second later when you slap his face and therefore surprise him. They are widened and glassy, looking at you with so much submission burning in them. You slap his other cheek, gripping his face right afterwards. Your fingers dig into his cheeks as you keep him hostage.

“Don't look at me like that. It makes me feel bad that I had to slap you”, you rasp, forcing even more submission into his droopy gaze. “What's wrong?” the question may be of nurturing nature, but Yoongi knows your true intentions behind it. This is to mock him, to force him to voice his wishes even if it embarrasses him so, so much. He wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You are so mean and perfect.

“Fuck me”, he gets out, feeling his cheeks heat up instantly.

“That's not very polite of you, is it?”

“Fuck me please. Please. Please fuck me”, he begs, trembling desperately. He wants to burst, he is so embarrassed and weak and fucking sensitive. He should stop humping you like a needy dog, because it makes him want to cum but he can’t stop. It feels so good to grind against you.

“There we go. That’s better”, your features soften in fondness, “you’re so perfect when you’re being my good boy”, you praise, releasing his cheeks to instead caress them gently.

There you go again. Messing with him. To go from slapping his face and calling him a slutty brat to caressing his cheeks and calling him your good boy. Yoongi can’t handle it. He felt so perfectly degraded only to be lifted and be made feeling like the most treasured person on earth. He is too drunk and giddy for that.

Yoongi whines and throws his hands over his face, kicking the sheets.

“Please just do it, why are you so mean?” he mewls.

“Why?” you giggle, tugging his hands away to beam at him, “why are you so shy, huh? It’s just me.”

“Yeah, it’s you. Exactly”, he pouts.

Your eyes soften. You rest your chin on his hands as you hold them.

“You’re so cute”, you whisper, stubbing him with your nose. Yoongi closes his eyes, chasing you with a tilt of his head. You stay, whispering the words against his lips, “do you wanna be my good boy and get the strap for me, mhm?”

He nods his head in obedience.

“Good boy, such a good boy”, you praise, rolling off of him, “off you go, get my strap”, you order him and as Yoongi climbs out of bed, you can’t help yourself and slap his butt just once.

“Hey”, he complains, pouting at you with furrowed brows.

“You’re so cute”, you snicker, giving him the biggest heart eyes.

He huffs out air and turns his back to you to waddle to your sextoy dresser instead. He takes out his strap of choice and waddles back to bed. You watch him with a fond grin on your face, stifling a giggle because his walk is rather hilarious.

“Don’t look at me. I hate walking with a boner”, he whines, making you laugh.

“I think you look cute”, you say, “you’re swaying so much, my love. Are you really drunk?”

He falls atop your lap, rubbing himself against you. He nods his head, humming deeply.

“I’m drunk too”, you say.

“I wanna fuck”, he whines, “please put it on. Why are you taking so long?”

“Oh excuse me that I can’t really move when you’re plopping yourself down on me”, you laugh, pinching his sides.

Yoongi giggles, writhing away, “don’t tickle me”, he whines, rolling off of you. You chase him instantly, gripping his waist just to tickle him more. He laughs squeakily, pushing at your chest, “please stop. I hate it.”

“Sorry, sorry”, you snicker, caressing his waist instead, “I couldn’t resist. I love it so much when you laugh.”

“Put it on please”, he begs with burning cheeks. Truly, he is adorable. You realised by now that Yoongi gets those really pink cheeks when he's drunk. Paired with his naturally shy blush and he looks beyond adorable.

“I am, I am”, you say, slipping on the harness. You make sure that everything sits in place, sighing happily because it grinds against your clit all nicely. You are going to love using it, that much is for sure. You climb back on bed, “done, you- eeek”, you squeak in surprise as Yoongi grips you by your shoulders and throws you into the sheets.

He climbs on top of you, intertwining his fingers with you and pinning your hands above your head. Like this, his long hair is hanging into his face, framing his glowing features.

“Wanna ride you”, he confesses, grinding against your tummy.

“Hot”, you whisper, gawking at him with a dizzy head.

“So stay please”, he begs, widening his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll stay”, you whisper, having to smile, “you're so perfect, my prince.”

“You too”, he says, stealing one kiss from you and then he shimmies down your body, sitting down on your lap. He reaches for the lube bottle and opens it with one hand as the other is busy feeling up your strap.

He spills the lube all over it, lips curling into a dirty smirk as he begins jerking it off while his other hand grips your waist, thumb tracing your tummy.

“You're so fucking hard”, he rasps, leaning over you so his hair was hanging all into his face again. He places his hand right next to your head, lowering his eyes playfully, “you're so fucking into me, aren’t you?”

“Uuuh…yeah?” you let out a breathy laugh, “what the hell is happening? Where's my shy Yoongi Boongie gone?”

“He left”, Yoongi says and laughs, kissing you midsmile which results in him biting your lower lip and tugging on it until you moan, “wanna eat you up. Fuck, I can’t wait to get your strap.”

“You're so hot”, you squeak out, head feeling dizzy in disbelief.

“I know”, Yoongi says nonchalantly and straightens up, placing his hand on your tummy for support. He lifts himself, shimmying up your body until your strap was aligned with his hole. He grinds on your tip back and forth, half-lidded eyes glued to your face. “Wanna take you so bad, princess.”

“Then do it”, you rasp, gripping his hips and giving them a little push down.

Yoongi lets you, widening his stance so he could take you easier. The bulbous head breaches him after a second of struggle, forcing an audible gasp out of him.

“Now I’m in. There we go”, you say, caressing his tensing thighs, “how's that, love?”

Yoongi sinks down further, placing both his hands on your tummy. Like this, his fingers are tickling your sides nicely. He huffs out air loudly, scrunching his nose up.

“How's that, mhm?”

“Good”, he croaks and bottoms out, arching his back just so his ass sticks out. His lips curl into a dirty smirk, eyes falling closed, “fuck yeah”, he rasps, chasing your girth with smooth rolls back and forth, “ah fuck. Yes, princess. Fuck princess…”

“You're so hot, I can’t believe that you’re real”, you get out, feeling dizzy. He is rubbing the strap against your clit each time he moves his hips. You are not missing out on any of the sensations, that much is sure.

“Fuck. That feels so good”, he moans, straightening up and tensing his tummy. He begins moving up and down on your cock, not wasting any second with going slow. He is drunk, dumb and horny. And free. He feels so fucking free right now. No self doubt, insecurities and mean voices in his head telling him that he is ugly. Just silence, pleasure and loud voices telling him how much of a sexy motherfucker he is riding your cock. And he wants it. Wants the rush of confidence it gives him, chasing you with fast movements.

“You're so hot, holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you pant, gawking at him with a racing heart.

Your words only encourage him to keep bouncing on you. He doesn’t care about how loud he sounds doing it, he doesn’t care about what faces he is making or how his cock moves. He'd ruin the moment on other nights, questioning every single thing, but not tonight. Tonight he is free and desperate for more. More. More. More. Give him more. Make him fall freely. More.

“Keep going, holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you praise, slapping his bouncing cock.

“A-ah”, Yoongi’s hips falter. He looks at you with ruby eyes. Your gazes meet, electric sparks course through your veins at the connection. “again”, he orders, fucking his hips into your palm.

“You drive me insane", you rasp, spanking his pretty cock.

“Yes”, Yoongi throws his head back, bouncing on your strap within seconds. Hard and fast and with the intent to not stop any time soon. That’s what he needs. Pain and pleasure. It’s the same thing to him and drives him absolutely insane.

Moaning his name, you spank his cock a third time, watching in delight as this makes it leak. You wrap your fingers around him, spreading the hot slick all over his length.

“Please continue, feels so fucking good”, Yoongi begs, dropping his head back in synch with his hands slamming down on your thighs. Like this, he is grinding on your strap more than he bounces, but the desperate freedom in his movements remains. He is making sure that his hole will remember tonight. That much is sure.

Wet squelching joins the slapping of skin and Yoongi’s unapologetic moaning, mixing with your mewls and the sound of you jerking him off.

“Leaky boy, you’re so wet for me”, you taunt, holding his cock just so you can spank the tip with your other hand.

Yoongi trembles, squeezing your thighs. He whimpers, chasing the pain with desperate hips.

“There we go, keep leaking for me. Love that so much”, you praise, rewarding him with a merciless slap to his cockhead followed by you jerking him off with two hands.

“I’m cumming”, Yoongi gasps, “I'm cumming, I’m cu- ah!” he yelps, releasing all over your torso as he thrusts into your fists. It lands on parts of your face as well, feeling hot on your skin.

“Yes Yoongi, yes”, you growl, forcing him to shake uncontrollably by jerking him off quickly, “cum for me. You perfect slut, cum for me. That’s it, shake for me. Love it when you do.”

Yoongi writhes, slamming his hands into the pillow on each side of your head.

“Fuck”, he hisses, following it up with a throaty mewl and his lips curling back to reveal his exposed fangs. He chases you. Harsh and fast. His hole is so tight, his cock so sensitive and yet he can’t stop. He can barely even think. All he runs on, is pleasure. It feels so good. He never felt like this before. Is this what he could have if only his own head wasn’t holding him back so much? Is this how sex could feel like?

Yoongi slams his hips down on you over and over again, drooling from his parted lips because that’s what he does when he feels too good. It normally only happens when he eats your pussy, but tonight you’ve fucked him into complete dumb pleasure.

You don’t mind that he is dripping onto your face, gazing up at him with droopy, foggy eyes. You have never seen him like that. So utterly lost to the pleasure. He has no idea how much this fuels you, how you are shaking in bliss because it feels like a dream come true to have him act so freely.

Your right hand moves around his cock, while your left runs up to his chest. You pinch his nipple, rolling it between your fingers afterwards.

“___”, Yoongi moans, squeezing his eyes shut, “___, I’m yours”, he pants, throbbing in your hand.

“Yeah you are. Fuck, you’re mine. Fuck, Yoongi I can’t stop cumming you’re so hot”, you growl, shaking again because his words just felt too good to hear.

“___, I’m cumming too”, he croaks, scrunching his nose up, “you're milking me”, he adds and groans, climaxing all over your tits and neck.

“I’m milking you?” you gasp, laughing breathily, “oh my fucking god, keep talking like that and I’ll break you.”

“___”, he moans, fucking his pulsating hole through the tightness. His prostate feels on fire and yet he can’t stop. This feels so good. You feel so good.

Yoongi straightens up and grips your thighs again, showing you his fangs as he throws his head back with an agape mouth.

“___ I’m yours!” he moans loudly, arching his back. His cock is leaking like crazy. His white milky pleasure is running down your tummy by now, soaking the sheets. And yet he can’t stop, leaking continuously as he fucks himself stupid on your strap.

“Holy fuck”, you choke out, “holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you whimper, spilling tears, “Yoongi, my Yoongi, you’re my Yoongi”, you sob, gripping his cock.

“I'm yours”, he moans deliciously, “spank me, please.”

You grant him his wish instantly, spanking his throbbing cock.

“Again”, Yoongi demands, chasing your hand.

Slap!

“Again”, he growls, clenching around your strap. He can’t get enough of being fucked and spanked and milked. He wants it so bad. Needs it like air.

Slap!

“Yes! Again.”

“Yoongi, you’re leaking like crazy”, you rasp, voice trembling in pleasure. You spank his cockhead, rubbing your palm against it afterwards.

“Yes, again please again”, he begs, convulsing on you with trembling thighs.

Slap!

“Holy fuck, you’re making me cum”, Yoongi laughs darkly, ending it with an audible gasp and an aggressive, “fuck.”

He arches his back, shifting your strap deeper into him. He hasn't noticed it yet, but like this you can see your cock inside of him. It is bulging his tummy, moving each time he bounces on you.

“Yoongi”, you moan, “Yoongi, why are you so hot?” you keen, spanking his cock with all the love you have for him. You can’t believe that he is real. And that the universe aligned your paths, “I'm so lucky. So fucking lucky”, you say, digging your thumb into his belly bulge in synch with your hand connecting with his cock in a slap.

“Woah”, Yoongi gasps, holding your wrist, “woah, woah, woah.”

“Feel that? That’s my cock moving inside you”, you taunt, grinding against his bulge.

“Holy shit”, Yoongi croaks, squeezing his thighs around your hips.

“Yeah that’s it. Feel it. That's how deep I go”, you growl, slamming your hips into him as best as the position allows you to.

“You're making me…cum. ___, I can’t stop”, Yoongi chokes out, shaking in anticipation.

“You're so hot, holy shit", you spit, fucking him angrily. You need him cumming again, need him to continue making a mess on you.

“Yes, yes, yes”, Yoongi chants, chasing you, “now. Now. Ah, now- ah!”

You can feel his high hitting him. You can’t believe it’s real, but you do. His tummy tenses and begins convulsing, taking your cock with hungry ease.

“Fuck, I can feel you cumming”, you growl, digging your thumb deeper into his belly, “you’re so hot.”

“A-ah”, Yoongi lets out and flinches, “no. No. Nonono why?” he sobs and comes to a stop abruptly, forcing you to lift your eyes. He is gawking at you, lips pouted and eyes sad. His hands are on your stomach, fumbling nervously.

“What's wrong?” you ask him, “don’t wanna make yourself cum anymore, mhm?”

Yoongi blinks rapidly, parting his lips.

“What's wrong?”

“I healed”, he confesses.

You furrow your brows in confusion.

“I'm sober.”

“Ah”, you understand immediately. His powers healed him. The sobering up process, which takes normal humans many many hours, is sped up for Yoongi. Which means he is clear in the head again and self-conscious. And being on top of your lap with your strap inside of him after he fucked himself senseless is not his preferred comfort place to be.

You sit up, forcing him to tilt his head back in order not to headbutt you. Your lips are almost touching, your bodies are grinding against each other, smearing his cum everywhere.

“So? Means I gotta fuck you dumb again”, you rasp, eyes pinning him down, “I wanna fucking ruin you.”

He widens his eyes. You grab his hips and force them to move. Back and forth in smooth rolls, forcing your strap to grind against his sensitive insides.

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, falling around you in a tight hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his chest is melted with yours and his hard cock is rubbing between your stomachs.

“Oh god”, he gets out, shuddering desperately.

“That's it, my prince, hold me close”, you whisper and wrap your arms around him, hugging him close, “don’t stop now, you fucking love it so much. Hold me baby, hold me.”

Yoongi thanks you with little moans and stuttering hips, fingers twisting in your hair and parted lips moving against your neck.

He is naked with you. Naked, hot and bursting in pleasure. And now you are hugging. Yoongi is actually able to feel your naked skin against his own as you make him drown in pleasure. He is in paradise. He gets to hug you naked. You are hugging. And he is sober for it. Which means, he'll actually remember it tomorrow.

“Please don’t stop”, he begs, chasing you with growing desperation. He can’t help himself. It feels so good to have you inside him.

“I won’t, my love”, you promise him, bending your legs so he can sit even more comfortably.

Yoongi arches his back, moaning each time his little bubble butt connects with your lap. The position forces your strap to go so deep. Yoongi feels fulfilled in ways that still feel like a dream to him.

“Such a good boy, you’re doing so well”, you praise him, caressing his hips. He tingles because of it, chasing you with even more eagerness. He has more leverage like that. When he was riding you, he didn’t really have a lot of support and Yoongi fucking loved it, but this right here is on a whole other level. To be able to lean against you, to rest against your body and find support in your hug gives him so much comfort. Comfort, but also the opportunity to move on your strap like he needs to. Fast and desperate. Yoongi bends his legs, hooking them behind you and begins moving like he needs to.

“Please don’t stop”, he begs you, drooling all over your shoulder, “oh god, it feels so good.”

“Yeah it does. You fuck me so good, love. So fucking amazing”, you rasp, rubbing his round buttocks in an encouraging manner.

Yoongi hates being a vampire. There is no denying that. He hates it so much, except for when he has sex with you and his powers make him feel everything a million times more intensely. That’s when he fucking loves his nature. That and when his instincts kick in and force him to act against his will in the best way possible. Like rut against you as if he was an animal in heat for example. Or drool all over you because his head tells him that it was feeding time, but he forces his body to feed on something other than blood. Your warmth and the pleasure only you can give him. It tastes so much better than any amount of blood could ever taste.

Yoongi fucks fast and hard once his instincts kick in. The gluttonous, insatiable hunger for whatever addictive substance his body got a taste from takes control of him and makes him its puppet. And that substance was your strap tonight. Your strap and the deafening amount of pleasure you make him feel with it.

Yoongi may be sober again, but mentally he is completely and utterly busted. Intoxicated on the instinctive urge to fuck and rut and ruin his little hole. Your loving hug and comforting warmth encourage him to go even harder.

“I can’t stop”, he croaks, trembling harshly, “I can’- ah, stop.”

“That's so fucking hot. You’re so hot, my love”, you moan, feeling lightheaded. He is moving the strap over your clit as he bounces on your length. Mixing that with the sound of his needy fuck and you are this close to giving up, “you feel so good, Yoongi. So good.”

“You. Too. Ah”, he gets out, breaking his lips away from your neck to instead cup your cheek and pull you into a messy tongue kiss.

You kiss him back gladly, loving every fucking second of it even it is oh so sloppy. Saliva gets mixed, loud moans exchanged and tongues shoved down throats. Truly, this is the kiss between two people utterly lost in the pleasure they give each other. It is nasty and it is fucking glorious. Breaks for air are scattered throughout the kiss, Yoongi uses the opportunities to curse and moan your name. You use the opportunities to praise him and call him handsome.

“Oh god, fuck”, Yoongi croaks, moaning weakly when you run your fingers under his lips.

“You’re drooling so much”, you rasp, forcing him to drool even more.

“Feels so good”, he whimpers, resting his forehead against yours. He knows that he is drooling. His entire chin is covered in it. It’s so embarrassing to him, but you fuck him so hard that he doesn’t even mind right now. Even in his sober state, he doesn’t care. You have him dumb and stupid on your strap, chasing his high because that’s all he wants.

“Spank me”, he begs, “please ___, please.”

“Spank you”, you repeat, “fuck Yoongi, you drive me insane”, you moan, connecting your hand with his bubble butt.

“Aa-ah”, Yoongi lets out, convulsing on top of you.

“Like this? Mhm? Is that what you want?” you taunt, landing another spank.

“Yes”, he mewls, “oh ___”, he sobs, falling around your neck. He hides his face in your shoulder, fighting for air as his body moves all on its own. It is sloppy and uncoordinated, but makes him feel so good.

“Good boy”, you praise, spanking him harshly, “you’re my good boy. Such a good boy.”

It burns so much. Yoongi sobs and forces his lips to lift from your shoulder. He guides his trembling hand to his own mouth and bites down hard. If he hadn’t, he would have ended up biting you instead and that would have made him hate himself forever. So he bites his own hand, moans muffled and body trembling like crazy.

You haven’t noticed it yet, enjoying the tighter hug he gives you and spanking his pretty butt.

“Eeh”, Yoongi squeaks, jerking into you, “hgngeng”, he lets out, coming undone from the pain and pleasure. One last time, but this time feels so good that Yoongi starts squirting all over your bodies, clawing at you because quite frankly he is a little scared of what happens to him.

You join him in his wet bliss with a pounding head, holding him so close that you could honestly merge with him.

“Holy fuck that feels so good”, you whimper, moving your hips into him needily.

Just five more strokes and then Yoongi begins flinching in discomfort, tapping your back in panic. He releases his hand, gasping loudly.

“No more”, he begs, “I can’t anymore.”

“Mhm love”, you purr, slowing down your movements until you come to a stop.

Yoongi grows heavy on your lap, flinching and twitching as he recovers. You are both so fucking sweaty, but still hold each other tighter. It’s all you need right now. To hug as you recover. No words need to be spoken – quite frankly neither of you could – and no touches need to be exchanged. Just a hug. One honest, loving hug which says everything the two of you can’t say right now.

You feel sobered up as well. Not a lot, because you are still really dizzy, but the needy fucking definitely helped your mind clear up a little. You still feel ruined though, but that’s only because Yoongi always does that to you. You finally find strength in your arm, running your hand up and down his lower back. Just a little, on the area of where his tailbone and his buttocks meet. His skin is covered in goosebumps instantly.

“Nobody gets me like you do”, Yoongi whispers, voice completely ruined.

“I feel the same, my love”, you breathe, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

“Did I actually do that?”

“You did”, you smile, caressing his hip, “you were amazing.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Hush, don’t start like this. You feel good right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, so good.”

“Then don’t ruin it with stupid questions. You know that your brain’s mean. Don’t start believing it.”

“I know, sorry”, he whispers.

“It’s okay. You’re my most loved. You know that, don’t you?”

“I am?”

“You are, my love.”

“I love you too”, Yoongi breathes, hugging you tightly, “so fucking much.”

You giggle, squeezing him right back.

“Oh Yoongi Boongie, you are so sweet.”

He purrs, snuggling into you. He sighs, growing heavier on your lap.

“I’m done for”, he whispers.

“Yeah same. I have no idea how often I just orgasmed”, you say, making him chuckle.

“Same”, he says, wiggling his hips, “we’re so dirty.”

“Yeah I know”, you snicker, making him snicker as well.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“Of course not”, you assure him, “why? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No. No, I was just asking because I lost control.”

“You did?” you gasp.

“Yeah”, he says and huffs out air, “felt so good, it’s not my fault”, he whispers in a little whine.

“So that’s how you lose control? Oh my fucking god Yoongi, you are so hot. What the hell?” you gasp, forcing him to lift his head just so you can smooch his lips.

He managed to lick them clean so you would have no idea that he bit himself, except for one little stain of blood on his chin. You wipe it away, furrowing your brows.

“Did you bite yourself?” you ask him.

“No?” he lowers his eyes, “shut up, you’re so mean. It’s your fault”, he whines with a pout.

“Wow okay, I see how it is”, you laugh, “fine, I’m taking all the blame, but I’m not regretting it. You were so hot”, you say, pecking his lips.

Yoongi grumbles, but smiles shyly, leaning into your touch with closed eyes. He looks utterly content with the situation.

“My pretty prince”, you whisper, grinning goofily, “I wanna eat you up.”

“Mhm”, he hums, wiggling his toes when you bite his cheek gently.

“So sweet”, you say, snickering, “also sweaty as fuck”, you say, smacking your lips.

“Ew, you’re so weird”, he whines, pushing at your chest gently, “why would you say that?”

“Why? It’s the truth”, you tease, laughing when he pulls a funny face because of it.

“I’m insecure, don’t say that”, he whispers, pouting cutely.

“Gosh, I’m sorry”, you caress his cheek, “I was only teasing, I don’t mind when you’re sweaty. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah”, he mumbles.

“Mhm good”, you peck his cheek, “still wanna take a shower together? I feel really sticky.”

“Give me two minutes. My legs are dead”, he says, sighing loudly, “seriously, they’re dead.”

“You’re so cute. Of course, take as much time as you need”, you say, “I think you just like sitting on my strap and you’re pretending that your legs are weak.”

Yoongi stays silent but huffs out air, making you snicker and pat his butt.

“Be quiet”, he mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I am, I am”, you say, chuckling fondly.

1K notes · View notes

galaxiasgreen · 2 months

Text

📚🐦‍🔥Stay With Me

Slow burn Garreth x F!Reader romcom-mystery [T-Rated, 5.6k words]

You don't meet his eye. "I've prepared you some questions, for this... tutorship." You unbuckle your satchel and take out not one, not two, but four rolls of parchment, one for each subject, and slide them across the table. "It's simple multiple-choice so I can figure out how much you know. It won't take you long to do." He stares at them, open-mouthed. "You've set me homework?"

Garreth Weasley is good at Potions… and not much else. You, a bookish, lonesome Ravenclaw with a weighted family secret, are good at everything… except Potions. Assigned together for a mutual tutorship, Garreth is sure he won’t meet anyone more boring.

But the potions lab isn’t the only place where sparks will fly.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, fluff, tutoring together, grumpy x sunshine, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, pining, love triangle, dark secret, sworn off love, Everyone Can See It.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

A/N: Just to note, in this story Garreth and others fought Ranrok with MC. Enjoy!

He calls you Prim, mostly because you hate it.

It's not a nickname Garreth gives you for fun (though make no mistake, he loves to tease you with it). No, it's a nickname that's descriptive, deriving from your most cardinal trait. Prim, because you are. Prim and proper and academically minded. Meanwhile he's never had an aptitude for learning, preferring the freedom of exploration over the rigid structure of curriculum.

On paper, you seem like a match made in hell – but in practice? Well, he's always up for a challenge.

He doesn't get to meet you, though, until the dawn of his sixth year, when easy classes and free periods for the exam-weary older students are over. He doesn't even meet you on the day he first hears of you.

Back then, you were merely an illicit suggestion.

"I'm worried about you, Garreth."

He sinks into the chair in Professor Weasley's office. He's been here so many times now it practically feels like a second home, mostly for, ahem, disciplinary reasons, but there are the rare moments when his aunt calls him in for a quick catch-up, tea and biscuits, sometimes to discuss family news – a great grand-uncle dying or one of his cousins announcing a betrothal.

When the professor called him in this time, two days into the term, he thought maybe his parents were expanding their gnome collection and she wanted him to advise against it (there is such a thing as too many gnomes, and it's any number more than zero). Or maybe his sister Clara needed help adjusting to the school – she's a first year now, after all.

So it's like the rug is yanked from under him when she asks about his grades.

"It's two days into the autumn term, Auntie," he says, not prepared to have this conversation so soon. "What's there to worry about? I haven't even had all my N.E.W.T. classes yet."

"That's exactly what I wanted to discuss with you. You have so much potential, Garreth. You are incredibly bright and passionate, and I know you are capable of so much, but your O.W.L. scores left a lot to be desired, and I worry that you won't be able to handle the workload this year."

"Don't know if you remember," he says airily, "but I practically saved Hogwarts—"

"Yes, yes, last year in the caverns below with your friends, I know, Garreth. I was there." Her lips bunch. "But no school-saving antics will boost your grades. Your heroics are the only reason you don't have to repeat your O.W.L.s, and you won't have such an opportunity this time around."

He drops his head on the back of the chair, groaning. Imagine stopping a whole goblin rebellion... and still having to write history essays. He literally made history.

"Your father suggested something I actually like," she says, drawing Garreth's eyes back down. "It seems you need some motivation, and I know you work well when you're with your friends. Therefore he suggested you pair with someone. A mutual tutorship, if you will."

"You want to give me a study buddy?"

"Yes! Oh, I do like that phrasing much better."

"You can phrase it any way you want. Still wipes."

"Garreth..."

"Come off it, Auntie. What are they gonna' do? Sit with me doing every piece of homework I have? And I didn't flop at everything. I got an Outstanding in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Which were your only top grades, half of which because Hecat saw fit to reward your capabilities against Ranrok last summer," she remarks shortly, taking a piece of parchment. "You don't need a study buddy for those subjects. You do, however, need one for History of Magic, Astronomy, Divination and," she stares meaningfully over the rim of her spectacles, "Transfiguration."

He grins sheepishly. "As it happens, I know someone who's great at it?"

She sighs, putting the parchment aside and dropping into her chair. "I know you want to become a potioneer, Garreth, but even the most famous potioneers are well-rounded individuals and excelled in subjects outside of their specialty. Look at Professor Sharp! He was an Auror!"

"Okay, I get it, I get it." All this talk depresses him – all this knowing that he's a problem depresses him. "I promise I did try. I just— find revising very hard and demotivating. And you know, the whole saving-the-world thing..."

Professor Weasley gives him the look.

"I made it to N.E.W.T. classes, didn't I? I'll try this year, I will. You don't have to get me a... study buddy."

"Oh, but I think I do, and as it were, I happen to know the perfect student to match with you. A very bright young lady one year your junior, a Ravenclaw. She excels in all her subjects" – she pauses – "except Potions."

"So you want me to teach her Potions," he clarifies, "and her to teach me everything else?"

"That's right."

"Doesn't seem fair."

"I think you'll find it will be." She makes a knowing face that he doesn't like. "So, what do you say? Want to give it a try?"

"... Can I say no?"

"No."

He sighs. "Brilliant."

His schedule's already packed with classes and homework, now that his education's ramped up for sixth year, and he mulls on the extra work a mutual tutorship will bring for the next few days. Explaining it is even more difficult, when he has to tell Leander he's missing Quidditch for this.

"A study buddy?" he scoffs, as they lounge in the Gryffindor common room after classes that day. "Sounds right horrid."

"Tell me about it."

"Who're you pairing with? Do you know?"

"No idea. A Ravenclaw in the year below, apparently."

"A younger swot? Merlin's pelvis, couldn't she have put you with, I don't know, Amit? Or Everett? If she wanted a Ravenclaw?"

Garreth slouches. The sofas are so comfortable he doesn't want to move. "Bet she knew if she put me with either of them we'd get no work done, Everett because he'd be too busy trying to prank me, Amit because he'd be wasting time describing irrelevant extra stuff."

"Oh, no," Leander panics suddenly, "if this works then she might start doing it to all of us. I don't want a study buddy!"

"Relax. It's only because I'm her nephew that she's testing it with me."

He's sure his aunt wouldn't care quite so much if the same blood didn't run through their veins. After all, she has no children of her own – so Garreth and his sister are the closest she'll get. All her motherly affection, and motherly reprimand too, goes to them.

So when he gets the owl on Sunday afternoon to meet promptly in the library during lunch the next day, he sucks in his gut and resolves to at least try and have fun with it. He likes meeting new people, even if he doesn't like the circumstances – maybe he'll get along with the new Ravenclaw. Maybe they won't be as boring as he suspects.

He heads to the library the next day – late, mind, because he didn't particularly feel like rushing from Charms – and spots Professor Weasley waiting by the front desk.

That's the first time he sets his eyes on you.

Waiting placidly at his aunt's side, you're perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. Your waistcoat is straight, your long skirt starched, your shirt tucked in and top button done. You hold your books in your hand – because of course you do – and the satchel draped over your shoulder bulges with more of them.

You're the picture of a prim Ravenclaw student.

And it fills him with misery.

"Hello, hello," he says to you both, "sorry I'm late." Not.

You purse your lips, like you can detect his lie, but say nothing as his aunt gives him an admonishing glare. "That you are, Garreth. Did I not say you were to be prompt?"

"I grabbed some extra parchment, Professor," he makes sure to use her epithet in the presence of other students, "because I didn't know if I would need it."

By the way her brow loosens, it was a good lie. "All right. Come along, I've reserved a table for you both."

He decides to introduce himself to you on the way upstairs. "Nice to meet you."

You introduce yourself as well, but it's clear by your aloof eyes that you were also roped into this arrangement. "Nice to meet you as well," you repeat awkwardly, voice high with tension.

Turns out, Professor Weasley reserved an entire table, right at the back of the top floor. It seems unnecessary, the isolation, how you've obviously been coerced.

"Now, your proper sessions will take place after classes finish for the day, so for now I believe getting to know one another's style of learning would be most prudent." Professor Weasley ushers you to two seats next to each other. "I'll be sitting over there to keep an eye on you. Madam Scribner has given you both permission to have a quiet chat, so why not break the ice?"

It feels so forced Garreth would prefer to get a Howler right now, but under his aunt's stringent gaze, he plops onto the chair and tosses his bag under the seat. You draw out the seat gracefully, fold yourself upon it, and gently place your satchel, then books, on the table. There is method, he realises, to your movements.

"So..." he claps his hand awkwardly. "Where are you from?"

You clam up immediately, and he doesn't know why that's the wrong thing to ask, but he backtracks.

"Sorry, I mean – you know, where do you live?"

Your frown is still pronounced, but some relief breaths free. "London. You?"

"Devon."

"Right. I've never been there."

"It's nice. Except in the winter. Then the sea air is like murder."

Silence. He has a feeling he'll have to nudge all conversations, which is simply brilliant.

"Have any family?"

"Just my parents. They— they used to live in Asia, before coming here." You shift. "You? I mean, besides the professor."

"How much time do you have?" When you don't answer, he tugs his collar. Tough crowd. "Er, I have a younger sister. Clara, she's called. She's just started her first year. Little menace. Was hoping she wouldn't be Sorted into Gryffindor, but I guess it runs in the Weasley blood. Then there's my cousins, but there's so many that if I named them all you'd miss all your afternoon classes. Hey, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing?"

You don't even crack a smile. This will be a long, painful conversation.

"Why don't we get started then?" he suggests instead, because the faster he does this, the faster he can leave. "I mean, discussing what we're meant to be, er, learning together? Shouldn't take very long for you if you're only failing Potions."

Your cheeks bloat. "I'm not failing. I just... need a little boost."

Touchy. Okay.

"Well, I'm not afraid to admit I'm failing."

"Yes," you say, and you list on your fingers as you go. "Transfiguration, History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy. That's four subjects."

"Hey, last year it was five, but luckily I managed to wrangle a Kneazle before it bit Professor Howin, so she bumped up my grade." He's still quite proud of that moment. You make an unimpressed face. "What? You should be grateful we don't have collect Flobberworm mucus together."

"Okay, well, I've prepared you some tasks to complete."

His amusement drains like pus from a Bubotuber.

"What."

It's a statement of disbelief so sheer he doesn't even accompany it with the tonal flick of a question.

He stares at them, open-mouthed.

"You've set me homework?"

"It's not homework."

"It's work that I have to do in my own time. It's homework."

Your lip curls in displeasure. "Like I said, if I'm going to tutor you, I need to know how much you already know. Then I can incorporate it into my lesson plan."

"Your lesson plan?"

"How else are we going to know what to cover per session?" you ask, bewildered. "You must have something planned for me, right?"

Of course he doesn't. He was just going to give you potions to brew and point out where you'd gone wrong. He rakes a hand through his hair, thinking about whether he could get away pretending to have a stomach/ head/ knee/ butt ache.

"If you don't want to do it later," you say, "you can do it now. Then I can be prepared for our first official session."

How about I run and never look back? With his aunt's watchful gaze on his back, he reluctantly unfurls the first scroll. Transfiguration. You hand him a quill and inkwell and he surfs through, ticking the answers he thinks are right.

"You're not even reading the questions."

"Am too."

"Glancing your eyes over words isn't the same as reading."

Oh, Merlin, you will be the death of him. Sniffing indignantly, he slows down, actually taking time to read the questions. How many exceptions are there to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? He tries the rest, though not very hard, because just reading this stupid parchment has left him perplexed, and hands the scroll to you when he finishes.

He's halfway through puzzling when Geminis are born for the Divination quiz – he guesses February – before you roll his parchment up again.

"So? What's the verdict?"

You can't control the grimace on your face, and it's all he needs to know.

He's a total shambles. A failure.

"It's not— unsalvageable," you say hastily, your expression flattening. "But we have a lot of work to do."

He drops his head onto the table so loudly Madam Scribner yells "SSSHHH!" from the floor below.

When he's completed all your scrolls and falsely promises to make a list of things for your Potions O.W.L.s, you collect your belongings, slotting each book and scroll into its rightful place in your bag, give a quick word to his aunt in thanks and leave without goodbye. The whole exchange was about twenty minutes but to Garreth felt like twenty years. He tromps up to Professor Weasley in utter disbelief – and despairs in the way her grin unfurls.

"I told you it would be a fair exchange."

"She's made me homework, Auntie!"

"SSSHHH!" Scribner yells.

"Sorry!" he squeaks over the bannister. "Homework, Auntie. And— lesson plans. She told me I was practically unsalvageable!"

"I definitely heard not unsalvageable, Garreth."

"You can't be serious with this girl."

But Professor Weasley simply pets his shoulder.

"Your future is at stake here, Garreth. It's about time you start taking it seriously. She will help you. You will help each other."

But he really doubts it.

He waits for you outside of the Ravenclaw common room entrance for your first session later that week.

Dread roils through him as he leans against the bannister. Two hours of this, thrice a week, when he could be doing literally anything else. Quidditch has started again – which his aunt has barred him from playing due to his grades – but he could at least watch the Gryffindors practice, watch Leander and Eric Northcott toss Quaffles between them.

He's never had a mind for anything that doesn't interest him. History, divining the stars – both approaches. Even turning butterflies into bells doesn't capture his attention the same way potions do. There's just something about the way you can play loose and fast with the rules, with the ingredients, with the measurements, with the method, that delights his curiosity.

He wiggles his arm so it doesn't go to sleep. He's been to the Ravenclaw common room a few times, usually with Amit – for when they need to get back at Everett for catching them with a dungbomb. Unfortunately it means he's well acquainted with the eagle knocker.

"Honestly, Mr Weasley," it enunciates with that high and mighty tone, "if you sulk any harder and your expression will stick permanently to your face."

"Know from experience, do you?"

It doesn't bother to grace that with a response.

"What quandary plagues you so?"

"I'm doing a study buddy programme."

The knocker toots – literally, like a trumpet. "Hundreds of years I have guarded this tower, and never have I heard something so funny!"

"You could be more sympathetic."

"For the boy who thought it would be funny to tickle my nose with a feather when I was asleep? I think not!"

"I didn't think you had a nose!"

The door swings open then, and you step out. Prim, proper, picturesque. You startle at the sight of him.

"I thought we were to meet in the library."

"I was passing by, thought I'd come up and walk with you."

Suspicion flutters through your eyes. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would you want to walk with me?"

He blinks. Is he being stupid, or has he missed something? "Er, because it's a nice thing to do, and if I have to waste six hours of my life on this mutual tutorship every week then I should at least get to know you better."

"I see."

Something not quite as strong as displeasure edges your voice, but you fall into step with him – not missing the way he makes a rude face at the knocker on the way downstairs.

"Look, I'll be honest," he begins, "I don't like this arrangement any more than you do, but I'm naturally pre-disposed to not taking anything too seriously, so even if we have to endure revision together, we can at least try to have a good time with it. Sound fair?"

You don't answer immediately. "What's the catch?"

"What? No catch. I just don't want to be totally glum each time I see you."

Something flashes across your expression, but it's too fleeting to identify it. "All right, that's... understandable."

"Great."

Conversation is stilted, however, even when you get to the library. You don't immediately warm to him, which is odd, because he's very used to people immediately falling for his magnanimous charms. You pull out your notebook – a timetable neatly journaled into the opening page – as he dumps out his parchment and quills.

"Since our sessions cover six hours per week," you say, "I thought we could work on your subjects for four of them, and then two hours on Potions for me."

"Right, fine." Sounds positively wretched. "My aunt's got Sharp's permission to use the potions laboratory this Friday, so I guess we can do it then."

"The potions laboratory?"

"Yeah. What? Did you think we could do Potions work without... potions?"

"Shouldn't we focus on the written portion?"

He frowns. "The written portion of the Potions O.W.L. is tiny. Like, miniscule. And boring."

You draw yourself up. "I don't find it boring. The essays are the best part."

Oh dear Merlin. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the majority of your Potions O.W.L. depends on actual potion-making." He grins. "Why? Scared, are you?"

"Why would I be scared?"

"You seem keen not to do it. Don't tell me you have some tragic backstory involving an exploding cauldron."

"No," you grind out. "I just... don't have a natural affinity for it like I do all my other subjects."

"That must've been really hard for you to accept."

He's teasing, but your face sours. Wow, you really are a tough crowd.

"Let's start. History of Magic."

This is one of those subjects he needs to know for his career choice – potioneers are expected to understand the history behind advancements in potion-making, after all – but Professor Binns makes it near-impossible to derive any sort of interest in the subject. The first topic of the year, the disbandment of the Wizards' Council in 1707, is already so dull Garreth can feel himself melting into the floor the moment the ghost opens his mouth.

"Now, I've already started the essay about the tumult of the Ministry of Magic's early years." You pull out a roll of parchment. "If we compare the key argument points—"

"Wait," he says, holding up his hand, "what do you mean, you've started the essay?"

"The essay that Binns set."

"You're doing N.E.W.T. level classes?"

"I'm doing N.E.W.T. level homework," you correct. "The professors assign it to me and I work on it with my regular homework."

"How do you have time to eat? Or sleep?"

You shrug. It's all so easy to you. You probably dream of your textbooks. It's so boggling.

"As I was saying," you continue, "we ought to start by comparing the points we've both made for the essay."

He just can't fathom it. Is there any point getting to know you when your spare time is dedicated to nothing but grades and studying? How can anyone be so academically good at (almost) everything, take on extra work, agree to tutor a frankly hopeless student... and still find time to enjoy other things?

"Right, yes, comparing essay points," he mumbles. "Sounds good."

Then again, he thinks, when neither of you move, and your eyes begin to narrow, you don't seem like the type of person to enjoy anything.

"You haven't started the essay yet, have you?"

"... Does a sphinx speak in riddles?"

You groan.

The first Potions session that Friday is a fun one – because now he gets to test you, watch you squirm and sweat. After the painful four hours together, scribbling theory for Divination and star charts for Astronomy, it's finally time to show what he can do. You're always so put together, so he wants to see how bad you are, see what it is that justifies asking for his help in the first place.

Professor Sharp is waiting in the potions laboratory when you both arrive, seated at his desk marking homework.

Garreth grins. "All right, Professor?"

His expression curdles exponentially. "I trust I don't have to keep one eye on you for the entire two hours, Mr Weasley?"

"'Course not, sir. I'm only here to supervise my charge. In fact, you could say I'm the professor here."

"That doesn't fill me with much more confidence," Sharp mutters, then flicks his quill. "I've prepared the one on the left. Work quietly, please."

You seem nonplussed when Garreth steers you to the potions station. "Do you have a... reputation?"

"Don't know what you mean."

"You must do, by the professor's tone. You're a— miscreant."

"I'm a creative," he corrects. "Professor Sharp just doesn't appreciate my artistry."

"I can hear you, Mr Weasley."

"See? No appreciation whatsoever."

He gave you a list of ingredients to bring, and as he lights the fire beneath the cauldron, you sort them on the table – a bezoar in a mortar, mistletoe berries tied together with twine, Mooncalf tears in a phial. He notices you spend an inordinate amount of time placing them in neat, agreeable piles, rather than, you know, starting the actual potion-making, and he tucks this information away.

"Right, so, today I thought you could brew the antidote to common poisons."

"Antidote," you say stiffly. "Common poisons."

"That's what I said."

"Isn't that a third year subject?"

"It is." He smiles devilishly. "But we're going to do it with a twist."

Your brow furrows. "You're supposed to teach me relevant things, Garreth."

"You'll be lucky I'm not adding my own spin on it. No, just a simple improvement to up the ante. We're going make sure our potion can also act as an antidote to spider venom."

"Spider venom?" Your hand reaches for the textbook, but Garreth palms it away. "But— I need the recipe."

"You won't get the full recipe in your O.W.L. exams. You only get a list of ingredients and vague instructions. But it's better to learn by doing, and you will be expected to understand how the property of each ingredient affects the potion." He gestures. "Shall we begin?"

Your lips are flat as you fill the cauldron with standard potioning water – two pints of it, until it bubbles nicely over the flames. You know the first step by heart, which is to crush the bezoar into a fine powder and add four measures. Good start. With each of his thorough explanations, you fidget, uncomfortable.

"Why not just feed someone a bezoar? It works, doesn't it?"

"Why do we extract essence of dittany instead of just nibbling on the stem? Because combined with other ingredients the potion is more powerful. A bezoar wouldn't work against more virulent spider venom on its own, but it will in the potion we're brewing, because its healing properties are enhanced. Also, have you tried shoving that whole thing in your gob? Tastes rank."

"Wait," you say suddenly. "I need to write this down."

"The tastes rank part, or shoving in your gob part?"

You ignore him, grabbing your quill and scribbling furiously.

"Watch your cauldron. It's bubbling over."

You squeak, dropping the quill and stirring. A sheen of sweat coats your forehead, which is pretty hilarious. You've only just started.

"What's the next step?" he asks.

Your eyes skim the ingredients, frantic. "Erm... Mooncalf tears?"

"Try again." When you grimace, he says, "Begins with Stuh. Ends with andard ingredient."

You glare at him. "This doesn't make sense. Why add that now?"

"It's a stabilising agent. It emulsifies the ingredients together."

"Like eggs in a cake," you murmur, which surprises him. "But we've only added the bezoar to the water. What's there to stabilise?"

"Bezoars don't dissolve in water, and this will help the ingredients we add next."

He can see your frustration. Suddenly it makes sense why you hate Potions so much. You don't understand the science behind it – ironic, for someone who seems so methodical, and so proficient at other more technical subjects like Transfiguration. You pour the herbs into the brew, watching cautiously as the liquid thickens and changes colour from grimy brown to forest green, and notes of saltiness waft into the air.

"Good." The potion isn't looking too bad – maybe a little too green, but not unworkable. "Now, what next?"

"... Mooncalf tears?"

"Nope. You need to desaturate the brew."

"So turn up the heat?" He gives a firm nod. "For how long?"

"Well, you've added standard ingredient, which acts as a thickening agent already, and bezoar powder burns easily, even in water. Do you think much heat should be applied?"

"... Maybe?"

"Bet your examiner would love that answer."

You scowl. "Just tell me."

"Bring it to simmer," he instructs. "But only for a few minutes. For the aforementioned reasons."

After you write this down, you nudge another piece of wood into the fire pit below, then adjust the knob for heat. After a few moments, the bubbles pop ferociously on the surface. He watches you watching it, transfixed, eyebrows sloping in intense concentration. It's clear you desperately want this to work – but something holds you back, whether it's just disinterest in the subject or not. You lower the heat after three minutes, leaning back.

"Now do we add the Mooncalf tears?"

He laughs. "Merlin's beard, you're desperate to get those tears in. No, now you wave your wand and let it stew. Do you know for how long?"

"I remember this," you say. "It was about thirty minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Well now I'm not."

His grin only grows. "What type of cauldron are you using?"

"Pewter."

"How will that affect the time?"

"Isn't pewter less conducive of magical properties than the others, and therefore makes brewing time slower?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"Garreth."

"Yes, you're right," he says. "You're a right laugh, you know."

"You're not," you remark tersely. "So it stews for more time then?"

"Probably about forty-five minutes, though I reckon with how you bunged all the standard ingredient in, it'll probably need a few minutes more. We'll eyeball it."

You squeak. "We can't— eyeball it!"

"'Course we can. When it's reduced enough, we'll take it off the heat."

Still, it's about a fifty-minute wait, and unfortunately you decide to get him back for all the fun he's having by asking how his History of Magic essay is going (... it's not). Even Professor Sharp laughs when he stumps at the first bullet point.

When the fifty minutes slog by (and they do slog – probably because Garreth dies a little with each legislative policy he has to know by name), you check the potion again. The water has boiled down to a gooey liquid, half the size it was before, and the colour has deepened.

"Now you have ground unicorn horn to add. This is where it gets interesting." His voice dances with glee, but you look like you'd rather get punched in the face. "The recipe for the regular antidote calls for a pinch of unicorn horn, then two clockwise stirs. But to work against a more potent poison like spider venom, you need at least two pinches, and double the number of stirs, to let everything combine."

You hunch over your unicorn horn powder. "Are you sure this isn't one of your creative exploits?"

"Hand on heart, this is all by-the-book," he says, then calls out, "In fact, I should really get some house points for it!"

"Don't hold your breath," Sharp calls back.

Garreth winks at you. "Worth a try, right?"

Your brow drops in exasperation.

Still, you follow his next instructions carefully. Two pinches of unicorn horn powder, then four stirs of the cauldron, and it hisses and pops as the powder melts into the solution. Finally you add two mistletoe berries, careful to keep the toxic leaves away, and wave your wand to finish. It's as expected – not bad for someone who claims to struggle at the subject, though he had to coach you through most of it.

"So... how do we know if the potion works?"

"Funny you should ask." Garreth reaches for his bag. "I have a spider I keep in a jar—"

You scrabble away at once. "What?" you shriek – it's the first explosive emotion he's seen from you. "No, no, no—"

"Merlin, that was a joke! 'Course I don't have a spider in my bag!"

Your shoulders drop. Your expression storms.

"Not. Funny."

But he giggles. "Come on. That was kind of funny."

"You really are a miscreant."

"Not a fan of spiders, are you?"

"They're detestable." You shudder, crossing your arms. "I don't know how anyone can stand the creatures."

"I think they're kind of cute. You know, in an ugly sort of way."

You step back to the station, gesturing with your chin to the potion again. "So? How do you know if we succeeded?"

"Colour, consistency, smell. Is it teal? Yes. Is it thick, and the bottom of the cauldron is only visible when you scrape it with a spoon? Yes. Does it smell like Graphorn dung?" He sniffs. Winces. "Oh yeah."

"How do you know what Graphorn dung smells like?"

"You don't want to know." (It involved Everett, naturally.) "So, with all those factors, we can safely say the potion was a resounding success. Huzzah!"

Yet you don't seem particularly pleased. He's not sure why, given that his aunt implied you were so poor at the subject even a mediocre brew was unthinkable. But maybe your bar to success is much higher than his. He helped you a lot, after all – maybe you'll only consider these tutoring sessions a win if you manage to brew an entire potion by yourself, without his ogling over your shoulder. Without someone literally telling you what to do.

And if that's what you want, okay. He's happy to help. The quicker you pick up these potions lessons, the quicker he is freed of your prickly company.

"Wait," you say suddenly, "what were the Mooncalf tears for?"

"Oh, those?" He chuckles. "They're not for anything. They're just to bamboozle you."

Your glare is potent enough to set him on fire.

"I am trying to learn here, and you fooling around is not helping."

"Who says this isn't helping? You'll never forget Mooncalf tears aren't in the antidote now, will you?"

"But— that's—!" You let out a groan. "You're being insufferable."

He just laughs harder. "You're so prim, it's hilarious."

"If wanting to learn things the proper way makes me prim, so be it."

"The proper way? Oh ho ho, no. There's no proper way."

"Written study is the proper way."

He leans on the potions station, grinning villainously. "Then I'll prove to you that it's not all about textbooks and words on a page. You're going to learn so hard you won't know what hit you. You'll see."

Your raise your chin, derision clear.

"Very well then, Garreth."

"All righty then, Prim."

He sees how it digs. "What? Don't— don't call me that!"

"Only calling you what you are, Prim."

When the session ends, he agrees to start that essay – or at least think about starting it – and you agree to review your notes for the antidote, but no matter how many times you remind him of your real name, he teases you with the moniker until you part ways. Unfortunately for you, insufferable doesn't quite have the same ring to it, and you wouldn't dare deign to his level of immaturity.

So at the end of the first week, you still call him Garreth.

And he calls you Prim.

[Next chapter coming soon] <3 [Divider credit, gorgeous art by Lyworth]

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #prim #stay with me #acvasverse #my writing #my stuff

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faggot-vampire-dies-epicly · 4 months

Text

Respite

Summary: After a really bad argument with your brother Mike, you are left feeling distraught after both of you said things you shouldn't have. As you're struggling to come to terms with what happened, you find comfort in the person you least expected. | Words: 4.225K. Requested by @xxinmyfnafworldxx.

Warnings: Mentions of child disappearance. Mentions of poverty. Cursing, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, family drama, family issues, unresolved romantic tension. Smoking. A bit of an age gap, since Reader is younger than Mike and Vanessa. Fem!Schmidt!Reader.

A/N: Okay, yeah, I know this took long but I was busy, sorry. School is beating my ass, my cousin got into a car accident and a stray dog bit me in the leg. It may not have the same quality as the last one, but I did put in a lot of effort, and I do like how this turned out, so I hope you guys like it too.

Main Masterlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

Nebraska, 1987.

“During autumn, Nebraska is colder than at home. So don’t take off your sweater.”

That was the first thing your dad said when he helped you get out of the car.

Garrett and Mike were already playing tag around the campsite. You chuckled and ran after them, following them into the woods.

That night, at the police station, as you sat beside the only sibling you had left now, you realized your dad was right. Nebraska was indeed colder than Hurricane.

November, 2000.

The past months had been rough.

With Max’s disappearance, you had no choice but to quit your job and stay home to look after Abby while Mike was at work.

After all, Mike had an accident (that he didn’t want to tell you anything about) which caused him to lose another job, which meant even more cost-cutting since he couldn’t keep one job for too long, nor get a high-paying one.

Abby had been there with him the night of the “accident” and she didn’t want to say a thing about it either.

It was driving you insane.

At least things with Aunt Jane had gotten better. But that only was because you had found her passed out in the living room the same night Mike had been injured, and she never came back to bother you and your siblings ever since.

So currently, you were struggling financially, like you always did.

Mike always got the worst of it.

The smallest portion at dinner, the cheapest clothes, the most worn-out shoes.

You lived in a perpetual state of worrying about him. He would just give you a tired smile, and say, “It’s alright.”

You knew it wasn’t.

Everything changed after Mike lost his job at that old restaurant.

Mike and Abby’s relationship had been magically fixed, or at least that’s how it felt.

She wasn’t shutting both of you out anymore, and Mike had become more calm and understanding.

There was also Vanessa, the police girl who had stayed a couple of weeks at your house. She was Abby and Mike’s friend and had also been involved in whatever happened in that old place.

Mike had let her stay in the house while recovering from whatever injury she had suffered.

She had slept on the couch. Sometimes you would go to the kitchen for water in the middle of the night, and you would find her awake, looking through the window.

Vanessa never talked much, at least not with you, she seemed to like Mike more. But you would still stay with her until she whispered goodnight and slipped under the blankets.

Sometimes, you would stay even after she had fallen asleep. You were the only one who could wake her from her nightmares after all.

Then she had moved out and you barely saw her. Sometimes she would drop Abby off from school, or Mike would invite her to dinner.

Vanessa was… fine.

It’s not that you didn’t like her.

No.

You liked her very much.

But you didn’t have time to acknowledge what that meant. Much less let her know.

Not that you were thinking of actually doing it.

After all, it seemed like everyone's life was improving, except for yours.

You still couldn’t go to college like you wanted to, since there were no babysitters around to look out for your little sister.

Mike was still jumping from job to job, getting paid barely enough to help with the mortgage and the basic groceries. And you couldn’t help with that either, since nobody wanted to hire you just for the part-time, and even if they wanted to, Mike wouldn’t approve of it.

And even worse, you couldn’t even go out to make friends, because, even if your older brother had changed, he was still as overbearing and overprotective with you.

You were sure that if you went to look at the meaning of overzealous on the library computers, his name would be the first thing to come up.

It always drove you nuts.

Even if you were young, you were already an adult. You didn’t need him to always keep an eye on you.

You understood it was just a trauma response. You really did.

You were there the day Garrett was kidnapped, after all. You recalled the horrified look on Mike’s face as they were interrogating him. His cheeks were tear-stained, his eyes red-rimmed, and he was so pale anyone could have mistaken him as a ghost.

You could remember him saying, “I just looked away for a second. I swear it was just a second,” to your parents' sorrowful faces over and over again.

Still, it didn’t mean you had to suffer such consequences. You wanted to live a normal life, as normal as you could, regardless of what had happened.

Abby sighed profoundly and shifted on her seat, frowning at her drawing.

You were in the kitchen, making dinner, and close enough to her to notice her discontent, so you pushed the salad you just finished aside and looked at her.

“What’s wrong, Abz?”

She made a face, meeting your gaze. “My friend from school invited me to have a sleepover tonight, but Mike won’t let me go.”

You frowned. When did this kid make friends at school?

And why were you just finding out about it?

“Well, uh,” you trailed off. “Did he give you a reason? Like, is he going to stay late at work tonight?”

Abby shook her head, looking back at her drawing, and put the crayon she was holding down on the table.

Just then, as if you had summoned him, Mike opened the door and stepped into the house.

Abby and you turned to look at him as he took out his jacket, and stepped out of his shoes.

He smiled at Abby, first, ruffling her hair, and looked at her drawing.

“That’s a good one,” he murmured, looking at Abby. He then turned to look at you.

“What’s with that face?” Mike asked casually.

“Abby told me something interesting,” you said, focusing on the salad again.

Mike hummed, peeking into the pots on the stove, and checked what you were cooking. “What did she say?”

You huffed, setting the salad to the side again.

“Well, first of all,” you turned to look at him. “I have just been made aware that she has a friend in school.”

Mike chuckled softly, leaving the pots alone to face you. “Ah, yes. It’s true, she has a school friend.”

You huffed, frustrated. Did neither of them feel like this was important information? After all the time Abby had struggled to make real friends?

“And also,” you continued, “her friend invited her to a sleepover, and you didn’t allow it.”

Mike sighed, already tired from the conversation. “Yes, that’s true, too.”

“So, why can’t she go?” You crossed your arms.

Mike shrugged. “It's not safe for her.”

You scoffed. “You're unbelievable. It's just a sleepover. What's the worst that could happen? Kids consuming too much sugar? She asking her friend's mom to call you because she misses her room? ”

Mike huffed, shaking his head, and tried to walk away from the conversation.

You followed him across the hall and into his room.

“Come on, Mike. What's the worst that could happen? Seriously.”

Mike sighed, turning to face you while he tossed away his tie. “I don't know – I mean, we don't know these people. God knows what strange habits–”

“Are you hearing yourself?” you said, disbelief clear in your voice. “You’re accusing people you don’t know of being,” you gestured with your hands, “weirdos, just because you’re afraid of letting Abby out of your sight!”

Mike rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I'm not afraid, I'm just being careful! It's my job as an older brother–”

“You won't have control over her all her life. You know that, right?” You argued back. “She might be a kid right now but she’ll keep on growing and things will get out of hand, Mike.”

The conversion was turning into a whole-blown argument. You knew you shouldn't press Mike's buttons further, but it was too late to care about that.

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. “Don't start this again.”

You scoffed, “Start what, exactly?”

“You know what. I'm not in the mood to argue.”

“You're never in the mood for anything!” You snapped at him. “All you do is work,” you continued. “Or rather, try to keep your job and watch over us like you're our bodyguard. You are going to asphyxiate us with your intensity.”

“I'm just trying to keep you two safe!”

Your voices were raised so high that Abby could probably hear the discussion from the living room.

“Keep us safe–”

“Oh, please,” he practically mocked. “You know I have reasons!”

Before you could argue back, he continued.

“Abby is a kid. She doesn’t understand the dangers she could be in, and you,” Mike met your gaze, “you think I don't notice how you look at me sometimes? Like I'm ruining your life? Like you hate me?”

You huffed, “I don't hate you! I just– I just want some space, okay?”

Mike scoffed, but you ignored him.

“I want to be able to go out at night, to have a job, and make money not only for us to have something to eat, but to buy things for myself too. I want to stop worrying so much about you!”

You took a long breath, trying to calm down.

“I want a normal life. A normal, relaxing life, Mike. Where I can make friends and go on dates without having to sneak out because you won’t agree.”

“Y/N–” he tried to interrupt.

“No!” you cut him off. “You think I don’t know who I remind you of? You think I don't know that when you look at me, you think of Garrett? You think I don’t hear when you tell Abby I look just like him?”

“That’s not true!” he shook his head, now seemingly hurt. “Look, I'm just trying to look out for you! For you and Abby. I'm your big brother–” he said, exasperated. And that was your last straw.

“We don't need you to protect us! Did you forget what happened the last time you tried to look out for one of us?”

A deafening silence followed. Mike deflated, his words dying in his mouth.

You looked at each other for a second before you realized what had been said.

“Fuck,” you exhaled. “Mike, I'm sorr–”

“Get out.”

“But–” You approached him, and tried to take his hand but he cringed, pulling away.

“Please, just…” he trailed off, not looking at you. “Just leave.”

You looked around, thinking of what to do.

Something, anything that could change the situation you were in.

But of course, there was nothing to do, at least not until Mike had calmed down.

So you left his room, looked at him one last time, and closed the door.

You stood still outside his door, letting everything sink in. You were still angry, but you also felt guilty.

Using Garrett’s kidnapping as an argument during the discussion was a low blow. If there was a hell, you were fucked.

Running your hands through your hair, you approached the living room.

Abby was still sitting at the dining table, eyes fixated on her now-finished drawing.

“Abby?” you called, softly.

She didn’t react. It was one of those moments when she felt stressed so she wouldn’t acknowledge you– or anyone, for that matter.

You sighed, took your jacket from the coat hanger, and stormed out of the house.

You walked for a while, just following the river.

After a good fifteen minutes, you stopped. It was cold, and your jacket wasn’t warm enough.

You sighed in frustration, kicking rocks into the water, and finally decided to sit on the grass.

“Was it really that serious?” You thought. After all, even if it was annoying, Mike's overprotectiveness had probably saved you from a lot of trouble.

You ripped up handfuls of grass as you stared at the water.

“Yes, it is,” you said out loud. Blaming him for Garrett’s disappearance was shitty, but you knew your anger was justified. Mike couldn’t keep being like this.

Not with you, and not with Abby, either. He needed to understand. To learn.

But how would he understand and learn if you only told him about your frustrations after bottling up and then exploding?

It wasn’t fair to him, either. Mike would just feel like you’re being antagonistic.

Grumbling, you rummaged through your jacket’s pockets. The wind had started to pick up and you needed something to warm up.

You pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter from the front pocket of your jacket.

You huffed. Mike would kill you if he found out.

Lighting the cigarette, you took a quick drag and as you put the items away again, you felt something strange in your pocket.

Frowning, you placed the cigarette between your lips and reached into your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

Humming, you unfolded it without care, not remembering what it was.

You almost choked on the smoke.

It was a drawing from Abby.

She had given it to you a few weeks ago after you picked her up from school.

It was a drawing of you, her, Mike, and a little airplane toy. Garrett's favorite.

“God-fucking-dammit,” you said, putting the cigarette back in between your lips to avoid getting ash on the paper.

“Language,” a voice behind you said, and you jumped, turning around.

Standing there, with her blonde hair swaying slightly in the wind, was Vanessa.

“Great,” you thought.

Out of all the people you could have run into this situation, it had to be her.

You noted was wearing civilian clothes: jeans, a cheap-looking sweater, and a jacket. Her hair was also down. Very different from her usual everyday look.

“That’s bad for your lungs. You know that right?” she said, pointing to the cigarette between your lips.

You grumbled, turning to face the water again, and she took it as an invitation to sit beside you.

“I mean that,” Vanessa said, staring at you.

You took a drag and blew the smoke away from her. “I know.”

She hummed. “Does Mike know?”

You frowned, looking at your shoes while the cigarette slowly burned in your hand.

“There’s a lot of things Mike doesn’t know about me,” you answered, meeting her gaze.

You stared at each other for a moment before she spoke again. “Can I?” She said, pointing to the cig. You handed it to her, and she took a puff from the cig.

You smiled. “I thought you said it’s bad for your lungs. What changed?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, blowing the smoke. She took another puff, then looked at you.

“Nothing has changed, it’s still bad,” and as she said it, she threw the cigarette into the water.

You gasped. “Hey, those are not cheap!”

It was her turn to smile then. “I know.”

You huffed. “Between this and Mike’s pills, I think you can be considered an environmental terrorist.”

Her smile faltered. “He told you about the pills?”

You nodded slowly, humming. “Mike tells me everything,” you said with a smile.

You paused, your mind returning to the night that he arrived limping and with several superficial wounds and scratches, and with a trembling Abby beside him.

“Almost everything,” you thought out loud.

Vanessa looked at the glistening water. “What makes you say that?”

You scoffed. “Come on. Something happened to him in that old pizzeria, and he won’t speak about it. Neither will Abby.”

You looked at her. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

“And I’m assuming you won’t, either.”

She cleared her throat.

“It’s…” She paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just something I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

You sighed, looking towards the water again. “Called it.”

You two stayed silent for a moment before you spoke up again. “How did you find me anyway?”

Vanessa sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Of course.”

Mike had told her to find you.

“He's your brother, Y/N,” she said softly. “I'm sure he only wants what's best for you.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Yeah sure..." you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "He's always known what's best for me. Like when he convinced me to leave my job so I can stay home and be a housekeeper.”

Vanessa's brows furrowed. “He did?”

You sighed. “It's… more complicated than that, but… that's how it feels.”

A beat passed in silence.

“I know he's doing it because of Garrett,” you murmured.

“Doing what?” Vanessa asked carefully.

“This. All of this…” You sighed. “Not letting Abby hang out with her new friend, convincing me to stay home and take care of her...”

She watched you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“I can't go out at night, he's constantly barging into our rooms, I can't date anyone,” you sighed, and she seemed to understand, her expression softening.

Slowly, Vanessa reached out to you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"I understand that Mike can be overprotective at times, I can't deny that,” she said softly. "I know it must suck not being able to go anywhere or do anything without him always checking on you..." she sighs, looking you in the eyes empathetically. "But we both know he just wants to protect you, even if he’s doing it in the wrong way. He loves you dearly.”

You avoid her gaze, your eyes focusing on the grass underneath you.

“It's worse with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

You smile bitterly. “Because apparently, I’m the only one who looks just like Garrett.”

Silence.

“I–” She began but cut herself off.

“I just wish,” you continued, “he could just try to move on. At least now he's aware it wasn't his fault, but,” you took a deep breath. “I feel like he's still stuck trying to be a protector instead of just being our brother.”

Vanessa stayed silent, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t feel like hearing fake reassurances while talking about Garrett or his disappearance.

“Every time we try to talk about it, it just turns into an argument,” you whispered

“And why's that?” Vanessa squeezed your shoulder. You felt your heart flutter at the gesture.

“I guess… because we're both too stubborn to hear each other out,” you chuckled tiredly, running your hands through your hair.

Vanessa opened her mouth, but you interrupted her.

“I fucked up today,” you turned to face her. “I kind of… blamed him for Garrett's disappearance.”

Vanessa seemed shocked by this. Then she sucked in her breath between her teeth.

“That's–”

Your expression turned bitter as you felt your face flush in shame.

“I know, you don't have to tell me.”

You hid your face in your hands. “He seemed so distraught, so hurt, I can't… I can't stop thinking about it.”

You felt your nails dig into your scalp. “I can’t stop thinking about the pain in his eyes, I can’t unsee the way he just… shrank.”

Carefully, Vanessa rested her hand on your back, and when you didn't protest, she started rubbing small, comforting circles.

You feel a knot form in your throat.

“I…” you swallowed. “I remember it. The day he disappeared.”

A pause.

“I remember it so vividly,” you huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “I sprayed almost the whole bottle of ketchup on my sweater. Mom guided me to the tent so I could change,” a shaky breath slipped from your lips, and you felt her stomach churn.

The dread, the fear you felt that day would never leave your system.

“Next thing we knew, Mike was running and yelling, desperate. You closed your eyes, the memories flooding your mind.

“Mom, Dad! Help, they took him! They took Garrett!”

You stayed with your eyes closed for a few seconds, as Vanessa kept rubbing your back reassuringly.

“Did you know I had a brother?” She began.

“Really?” You asked with surprise in your voice.

“Mhm,” you could hear her smile in her voice, “we used to be really close. He was always looking out for me.”

“What happened to him?”

Her hand stopped. You tensed up.

“He… disappeared. Many years ago. Just like Garrett.”

You pulled slightly at your hair. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…”

“It's okay,” she said in a solemn voice, but with a small, resigned smile on her face.

“Why are you telling me this?” You finally faced her again.

“Because you can never take your family for granted. You shouldn’t say hurtful things to each other, and if it happens, you should let it cool off and then talk about it, not run away.”

Oh, now she was scolding you.

“I didn't–” you cringed. “Mike asked me to–”

She giggled. Giggled.

“I'm not saying it only because of you. Mike needs to understand that you're an adult now, that he won't always be able to protect you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Will you help me, then? Will you talk to him?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, Y/N. You two need to sit down, talk, and finally start listening to each other.” She gave you a small smile.

You sighed, nodding.

“Come on,” she said, standing up, shaking the dirt off her jeans, “I'll take you home.”

She extended her hand, and you took it without thinking twice.

Vanessa parked her car in front of your house, sighing softly before turning off the engine.

She looked at you, and after a few seconds, you met her gaze.

“You know,” she smiled, “I’m pretty sure you two can actually come to an agreement.”

You huffed, “That’s easier said than done.”

You pushed the car door open.

“Wait,” she said, holding onto the back of your jacket. You stayed still.

“I mean it, Y/N,” she gave you a soft look.

“Just talk to him. No yelling, not arguing,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “talk. Really talk…”

You stared at each other momentarily before she let go of your jacket.

“Hear him and… make him hear you,” Vanessa added, a whisper more than anything.

You nodded, climbing out of the car, and closing the door.

She lowered the window. “Good luck, I guess,” she smiled.

You felt your heart speed up. Was this really the end of it? Would she only speak to you when Mike asked her to? So she was just being nice, right?

You swallowed. “Yeah… Well.”

You felt heat rising up your neck, reaching your cheeks. Shame.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way,” you scratched the back of your neck, trying to get rid of the sensation.

“No problem.”

You nodded, and just as you were about to push the front door open, Vanessa called your name and you practically rushed to the car window. “Yes?”

Vanessa let out a breathy laugh and you almost melted on the spot. She opened the glove compartment and took out a notebook and a pen.

She started to write something down.

“In case you and Mike keep having trouble…” She trailed off as she handed you the paper, which had a phone number written on it.

You raised your gaze to meet hers. “If it doesn’t work out, you can call me and I can give you some advice,” she grinned at you.

“And if it does?”

"Maybe we can go for a coffee, then?"

“I don’t like coffee,” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm up.

Vanessa's smile grew wider at your reaction and she chuckled softly. "Well, how about tea then? Or maybe we could just go for a walk instead?"

Her tone was playful and her smile was contagious, making it impossible for you to stay embarrassed for long.

You stayed silent, not sure how to respond. All you knew was that it was supposed to be cold outside at this time of the year, but you were sweating.

Vanessa shook her head, still smiling, and her playful tone turned into a sincere one. “We don’t have to if you don’t want–”

“I want to,” you interrupted her. “I do.”

She seemed to perk up.

“I’ll call,” you said, without a doubt. “I promise.”

Vanessa gave you a soft smile before turning the car on, and slowly drive out of sight.

You sighed, turning to push the door open, and to your surprise, Mike was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, and Abby peeking at you from behind him, smiling.

He met your gaze, and against all odds, he smiled at you. “I guess we need to talk.”

You smiled at him. “Yeah,” you looked down at the small piece of paper in your hands and swallowed. “Yeah. We do.”

Mike sighed, gesturing for you to come inside.

“So you heard all of that?” You said in a weary voice, and Abby giggled.

Mike shook his head. “Maybe we should eat first, I’m about to pass out.”

Right, you still hadn’t had dinner. Your stomach grumbled.

As you followed your brother into the dining room, you had the sensation that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

A/N: Reblogs are not only appreciated but also encouraged. Reblogs are what keep the fandom going.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly #schmidt!reader #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #elizabeth lail

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pianostarinwonderland · 6 months

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People are making fun of the luxe outfits but I think they’re pretty decent, there was thought put behind them.

Omg thank you for saying this anonie 😭😭 if you weren’t gonna send this in, I would have made my own post on it

I get why the outfits didn’t hit right at first. I saw the live 2D of Azul’s outfit and got a bit sad at first since the way the sleeves fell and the way the jacket framed his body didn’t look super flattering (plus I was sad it wasn’t a tailcoat ahahahahah). This is coupled with the fact that among the three, Azul fits the least in those colors hahaha. Those aren’t bad colors by any means, in fact, as someone who’s gotten a color analysis and came out with autumn as my best color palette, those are suchhh perfect colors for me. But Azul doesn’t fit those at all, especially the light brown. Heck, even if you just flipped the colors of the jacket and the dress shirt underneath, he would have looked so much better since dark colored tops work better with him in general than light colored ones (unless we’re talking silver/lavender/light blue, Those fit him very well).

Jamil and Ace are lucky in that they do fit the color palette better. People also just took issue with how Jamil’s pants look very wide.

But honest thoughts? I find that they do look good, especially when considering the theme of the event, and the event itself has listed the reasonings behind the designs of their outfits.

I think we have to remember that this is high fashion, hence the fits won’t hit with the majority of the fandom, who don’t really follow that kind of fashion. Jamil’s fit, especially with the wide pants, is common to see in fashion, and really to be honest, when we take into account of his character and personality, wide pants fits Jamil more than slim pants. Plus, in the event, the reason for that kind of fit is because of Vil’s profile for Jamil that he sent to the designer: a plain or humble guy who worries a lot in the background, to which the designer adjusted to a humble guy who behaves in moderation (from @mysteryshoptls).

Ace’s fit hits well with many people because it matches a lot of trends and classic fashion tips that we, especially younger people, like to see: slim figure, an emphasized waist, cropped top. It matches his description that Vil gave of him being an immature potato 😂 or the designer’s adjusted version of him having that fresh new student feel (also @mysteryshoptls).

Azul, now I will say he’s just a victim to the live2D not doing him any service. 🥲 The sleeves fall very stiffly, and the jacket doesn’t seem to frame him well. But you can see in his SR how the outfit is meant to look and shine:

The sleeves are meant to be very flowy especially when he’s walking and making dramatic gestures with his arms (something that he does a Lot in his live2D). His jacket as well is meant to be that long so that it would look like a trail (??? English isn’t Englishing rn) especially when he’s walking or making big movements. In other words, Azul’s outfit probably doesn’t stand out too much at first. But the moment he brings out the drama, the drama of his fit shines and amplifies his theatrics, thus attracting people. It sort of matches Vil’s profile for Azul is a scammer, and the designer adjusted it to a mysterious person who charms people (also @mysteryshoptls).

There’s a lot of thought put into the design, and I love them so much. I still find the colors a bit of a tragedy personally, only because it’s not Azul’s best colors, but thematically, considering the event story, it makes a lot of sense. I’m excited for what happens later on in the story and what they’re going to do in the film festival :3c

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst jp #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #ace trappola #vil schoenheit #ask

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separatist-apologist · 2 months

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Hey MB<3 I just keep rereading your fics over and over and they hit everytime (like seriously they itch every scratch in my brain), but just wondering, do u have any elucien fics on your tbr rn, or recent ones that you recommend? I'm mostly looking for canon compliant bc that is crack to me but im not too picky, just looking for recs!

I ANSWERED THE WRONG ASK god kill me right now

You're so sweet. Sorry it took me so long to write this- I wanted to put together a good mix. I hope you like them- these are just one's I've read, there are more on @elucienweekofficials list of multi-chapter fics set in canon, too!

This is long so I put it beneath a cut. I tried to mix on-going fics with completed fics and not recommend the same ones I always do. If anyone finds this list helpful, be better than me and leave a review

I Believe The Word You're Looking For Is Friends by @kingofsummer93

Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra are haunted by ghosts of their past, unable to move forward, unsure where they belong.

Together they come to an agreement. He'll teach her everything he knows about Prythian. He'll take her anywhere she wants to go.

In return, maybe she can just stop slapping him so much.

All You Have Is Your Fire by @clockwork-ashes

'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Elain goes to the Autumn Court demanding an audience with the High Lord to save the mate she can barely stand to be in the same room with. She ends up having to stay much longer than she bargained for.

What If I Told You I'm Back by climbingmountains

Come one, come all, it's happening again…Elain and Azriel have been married for ten years. Koschei is defeated, their family is at peace. And if she feels a hollow ache of something every once in a while, that’s just the price one pays for love and duty.

Until she comes home one day to the news that her husband has a mating bond of his own.

OR: I listened to nothing but The Tortured Poets Department for over a month and had a lot of angst to release.

Mockingbird by @avabrynne

After Lucien reluctantly agrees to meet with Eris, he’s shocked when his brother reveals his biggest secret: he has eight-year-old twin daughters. Unwilling to entrust them to anyone else and with Beron's gaze on him more intense than ever, Eris has Lucien swear to protect the girls and take them with him.

When it becomes clear they can’t stay in the human lands even when glamoured to look human, Lucien turns to the Night Court. While it’s easier to handle outbursts of young magic there, Lucien needs help. Enter Elain, who bonded quickly with the twins after their arrival. On top of everything else, Lucien and Elain start to navigate their bond while also finding out a few more secrets, like who Lucien’s actual father is. It's an Autumn and Day Court family drama Elucien and ErisxOC fic!

ACOWAR (Eluciens edition) by @crazy-ache

One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin.

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey.

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU.

A Court of Ash and Sunlight by aturner1205

“I know you’d rather not get help from me. I know you’ve rejected our mating bond and I’ve accepted that. But I still want to make sure you’re safe.”

Her heart twisted in its cage, filling her whole body with icy tears that would not spill.

Tell him. He deserves to know the truth. Tell him.

And because this time the voice inside was hers, because it was strong and clear and right, she did.

“I haven’t rejected the mating bond with you, Lucien,” she said quietly, her chest pounding so loud she could hardly hear the words. “But I think I damaged it, because—because I’ve never felt it.”

The Scenic Route by @bonecarversbestie

Elain grows discontent with her role in the Night Court as she grapples with grief for her human life and powers that she does not fully understand. One evening she accidentally winnows to Lucien's doorstep and he agrees to take her back to Velaris via the scenic route.

Can I Be Close To You by @temperedink

Elain and Lucien have been feeling out their tentative new relationship for a while, and Elain is getting antsy about the slow pace she's set for them. But maybe it's time to take things to the next level.

Set a few years post-ACOSF.

Oceans Apart (Never) by angryramen

Living in the Day-Court with her mate seemed like a damning at first. But slowly Elain started to enjoy Lucien’s company. They conversed together in the Day-Court gardens and slowly became friends. He even promised to charter a ship to take her to the continent, somewhere she’d always wanted to go. But when the time comes to say goodbye…

The Heirs of Fall and Flame by arosebetweenthorns

Eris Vanserra has always been a complicated male. Born as the first son to a tyrant of a High Lord, he was raised on cruelty, learning never to reveal weaknesses. But as Eris' allegiances to his father's court are questioned, his loyalties forming with those across borders, he realises enemies in his own court - especially his father - may be too difficult for him to keep at bay, especially when he inadvertently sets his father's sights onto his youngest brother. Then there's Rhysand's Inner Circle to contend with - one particular shadowsinger that Eris can't seem to avoid... but does he even want to? --- Lucien Vanserra always thought his suffering at the Autumn Court's hands was behind him. But when his father shows a vested interest in him years after banishing him, it's clear he will have to fight to keep the fragile peace he's built himself. All Lucien wants is to be with Elain and begin a life of his own, but when Elain's life is threatened by his father, Lucien learns just how much he has to learn before life can truly begin.

This is a direct continuation of the events of ACOSF. Joint POV of Eris and Lucien.

A Court of Breaking by @aldbooks

A year after the events of A Breaking, Elain feels a tug on the bond and realizes her estranged mate is in danger. Lucien, now returned to the Night Court, wonders if he might have been too hasty in his decision to leave, and if there might still be a chance for him with his mate

Summer Heat by @zenkindoflove

Lucien nodded his head, looking for any cue that he was dismissed. “Got it. Keep everyone in line and try not to make an ass of myself in front of my mate. I’ll see what I can do.”

Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years.

Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance.

Post-ACOSF, Elucien, Eris x OC, Multi-chapter.

Healer In The Night by @infinitefolklore

Lucien has been away on the continent on a mission. No one has heard from him in over two months. Elain is worried. On a dark and stromy night, he shows up bloody on her doorstep. Elain nurses him back to health.

The Luck Of The Draw by @sad-scarred-sassy

Elain Archeron is determined to end her unwanted mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. She has resigned herself to a loveless life, convinced she will never be able to experience true love without the fabricated weight of an assigned mate.

Her plans take a sharp turn when her mate arrives with a proposition to accompany him on a mission to a foreign court. When no one else believes her capable of succeeding Elain decides to prove to herself and others that she is not as hopeless as everyone else thought.

Only this will mean she will have to face him, and with that all that she has sworn off, battling between not knowing where the mating bond's influence ends and where her true feelings begin.

#IGNORE THE OTHER ONE #elucien #pro elucien #ANYWAY- i tried to scoop up everyone who was on tumblr too but if i missed you let me know #SORRY I TAGGED EVERYONE TWICE #i will be steeped with anxiety about this for the next 10-15 business months

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vad-hander · 2 months

Text

LET’S KEEP IT SECRET Pt.5

pairing: Jaehyun x reader x Yuta

others: SM Rookies, multiple SM and JYP idols

words: 7k

side note: as usual, I'll appreciate all your feedback and thoughts!

Your hand raised immediately to cover your opened mouth. Fuck. Yuta’s outside. Yuta came here to see you. After months of silence, he shows up so randomly?! You were almost mad how unprepared you were for this meeting.

Like, not even mentally, your appearance was fucking awkward. You danced for the past 5 hours in a room with barely any venting system. You sweated so badly your hair now looked like you didn’t wash it for a week, you were procrastinating in your bed aka waiting for your turn in the shower - because with the number of people on the floor two bathrooms were just not it, you literally had to wait in a queue to shower - so you were in your training sweats and shirt. Ah, you panicked. Your hands automatically reached for your brush - at least you’d braid the mess on your head and not make it too obvious you were fresh out of practice. You roughly ran the brush through your hair, the silent room now filled with you ripping through your hair and awkwardly enough - attracting everyone’s attention to you. How the hell were you supposed to make yourself look presentable without people questioning why you’re acting that way? You braided your hair quickly, trying not to pay too much attention to the curious eyes. You are, at the end of the day, planning to be famous - you have to be used to people watching you, tho its not really the same, but it should be the same in your head in order for you to not flip out. You found your lip balm and hid it in the pocket to not put it on so openly and ran out of the room in pure silence only to return a second after. “I-, ahem, I’m going to the CU, does anyone need anything?“

“Yeah, no.“ Jiwon gave you a weird look, crossing eyes with Sieun. Well, okay.

You didn’t have a second to think if you wanted to slow down or speed up or what you were going to say, you just ran out of the building without any thoughts. You just really wanted to see Yuta with your eyes. Just have him before you no matter how awkward this might be, just look at him. God, why did you not see him?! Your eyes ran across the entrance of the building one time and once again, because there wasn’t anyone. You walked off further into the street, turning the corner of the building, immediately meeting with Yuta’s eyes. You jumped in place and stopped. You weren’t sure if you should sprint off and hug him or let him take the lead. Yuta took a step towards you and you did so too automatically, meeting somewhere in-between. Yuta stared at you and his eyes were trying to drink in every feature on your face, while you were doing the same. You were trying to see if anything changed, if anything was different and it seemed like everything was not the same but at the same time he was just who you remembered him to be. It felt so weird, like some fever dream turn into live or more like a brimmed with romance k-drama moment where two leads finally meet each other after years of separation. The street lights and autumn breeze was adding up to the feeling. You blinked silently at the man like amoeba, not knowing what was the reason behind him coming here, what did he think of you and what you should be acting like in front of him now. What were you? Should you just ask him in the face? You seriously considered, since he watched you without saying a thing.

“I would say that I’m so happy you texted, but if I’m completely honest, I’m so confused at this point.“ you surprised Yuta by breaking the silence.

“Jaehyun told me you two were discussing… us?“ Ugh, he did? You recalled saying something to him along the lines of maybe you can ask him and tell me, but you didn’t expect him go out of his way and actually do it. One more UGH for Jeong Jaehyun. You were beyond conscious of what he might’ve said or discussed with Yuta.

“That’s pretty exaggerated.“ You weren’t discussing your relationship, you literally cut him off in like two sentences and continued with your exchange of random things that happened in your life in the time being you avoided him.

“Anyway.“ what was they sigh and the undertone of that word. Was he…pissed off? The tone of his voice was giving something between slight indifference and irritation.

“Yes, anyway.“ You felt a little more worked up just from the look he gave you. That’s very much not how you imagined the reunion with your boyfriend, or more likely ex-boyfriend by now. “So Jaehyun is the only reason you reached out after months of silence?“

“Yes and no. He told me about seeing you and I realised that I would’ve liked it for myself too. To see you, talk to you and everything else.“ Everything else is what…? Touching, hugging, kissing and …? You needed elaboration on this uncertainty.

“Okay.“ You gave him a nod, very much flabbergasted at the prospect of possibly kissing Yuta.

“Do you hate me? For leaving you to hang on for this long?“ his eyes pierced through yours. “I reckoned you’ll need a lot of time to process the transfer and new life and new people and I tried to give you space to work everything out. My own debuted and other things got in the way. I took too long and then was just scared and awkward to reach out.“

“But I messaged you. You could’ve said literally anything back.“

“I’m sorry.“ He did sound full of remorse, you’d give him that.

“Well at least you had more than enough time to think everything through.“ You cackled, not able to hold yourself back from coming at him.

“Right.“

“So… I guess you came here to give me the verdict?“

“I came here to tell you that I’ve been missing you so fucking bad. That I really badly want to talk to you and hug you again and kiss you again. I want to know everything that’s been happening to you recently. I texted you to see if you’d be able to forgive me for taking so long. So…will you forgive me? Are we still on the same page?“ He crushed the words at you like a cannon ball. They were things you wanted to hear, but somehow at the same time you were feeling uneasy at the confession. You had to tell him first thing that came into your mind otherwise the silence felt too deafening. Yuta gripped your palm as proof of what he felt.

“My company…. We have a very strict no dating policy. We’re not even allowed to have a simple crush. Literally anything relationship related is strictly prohibited.“

“You know that SM have all the same rules.“

“No-, like gawking over someone gets you to pack your bags and leave, Yuta.“

“Okay?“ He couldn’t understand where you led him, neither did you.

“And you’re a whole damn man, that comes to see me at night.“

“That’s why I didn’t come to the entrance where all those CCTV cams could see us.“

“Yeah.“ You gave him a nod but clearly didn’t acknowledge what he said properly, continuing on with what you were saying “Not even a year ago one of the guys at the company got his contract terminated because he was allegedly breaking the no dating rule. Our producer is very strict with those rules, he says it has to be at least 5 years before we should even think of dating. Otherwise we’re not dedicated enough.“ you paused because you would love to feel Yuta’s grip on your fingers. If he touched you, you would’ve stopped to crash these things at him.

“I see, you’re trying to refuse me.“ How would he make a conclusion like that when you didn’t even know yourself, what you were trying to do.

“No. I’m just stating facts. For you… to consider.“

“I have considered all those things. Nothing’s changed for me. I still find you very beautiful, I’m still deeply attracted to you.“ You felt a butterfly flop inside your chest. This was such a relief to hear - Yuta still wanted you.

“Me too.“ You half whispered, you really didn’t want to admit something like that out loud where people could see and hear you. You suddenly felt a little conscious doing these things in front of your literal dorm, where you didn’t have friends, but a whole damn building of people that would happily sneak on you to free one more spot in the competition, but the man in front of you didn’t feel the same way. Yuta moved his foot a step forward, knocking it against your shoe. His fingers laced through yours once again in such electrifying movement you almost lost all your consciousness and leaned in to kiss him. Yuta pulled you towards him, taking a couple steps back from the lit up pavement, to the more dark and private space under a tree.

“Fuck, I really missed even simply holding on to your fingers.“ Yuta sighed miserably. He squeezed your hands like he regretted every previous decision he made and you believed the boy that stood right in front of you. You believed because despite not making a lot of moves to reunite yourself, you longed and waited and held that little something you had between you close to your heart. You believed you were loving him, because you couldn’t say you knew for sure, you didn’t know much about love enough to state it. You loved your dad, because he was your parent, he took care of you, understood you, listened to you, helped you through hardships, took your side when everyone - or more accurately your mom - were against you. You loved Jaehyun, because he was the first person in your life that could understand you. With no mockery, jealousy or humiliation. He reached for the same goals and understood you completely. In addition to that, he knew how to make you smile, how to make you feel better, when you were down. He seemed to genuinely care for you and who you were, he cared for every little thing you told him or showed him. You loved him because his ways of being your friend helped you become a good one for him, or at least, you were hoping you were still in the process to become one. You loved him just because he was Jaehyun, your best friend, your first friend in SM and your first best friend in the whole wide world.

But Yuta… you felt like you loved him because when he kissed you that first time, your whole being flipped. You don’t remember how or why you existed before that. At first you were obviously, clearly very much shocked at the action. A) you were a baby back then, you didn’t really think of anything like that; b) you were scared of anything related to attraction to other people since something like that would clearly take a toll on your success and debut - and maybe it already did - and you just didn’t want to admit. You were loving Yuta in a completely different way - in a way what you considered a grown woman love a grown man. Not sure if the type together forever kind of love, but together for a long time type of way. You were feeling that heaviness of excitement in your chest now that Yuta was staring at you like that. Your feelings might’ve started to feel like nothing in the past weeks, because you were busy and alone and maybe a little hopeless, but him being here right now made it overwhelming.

“Me too.“ You meowed in his hold. You weren’t able to talk properly, to stand your ground - no way at all. You were mushy in his hold, if he’d pull your hands down, you’d fold right before him in a second.

“I still am very much in love with you.“ He leaned in and brushed his lips over your cheek. You felt heated in a nano-second, squeezing Yuta’s fingers tighter in your hold. You tried to free one of your hands to hug his waist, but his fingers felt like claws over yours.

“Me too.“ You whispered breathlessly as your mouth tried to find Yuta’s, lick into it even for the briefest moment and then do whatever the hell he would want to, but he moved away and you found it in yourself to talk. “I have to be honest. This company, it really can’t be compared to SM, everything is different and I’m scared. Of how this is going to go, I’m scared that someone is possibly watching us right now and I’m going to get kicked out tomorrow. I am so scared that following what my heart wants in love department will ruin what I want to have in my career. I fear that having a boyfriend is going to end things for me. Maybe for you too. We’re risking a lot. So much, Yuta.“

“It’s fine.“ Hm? What does he mean it’s fine…? “Just don’t tell them I’m your boyfriend, just a guy friend from way back. We won’t put a label on it for everyone to see. There’s Jaehyun and there’s me, no difference for everyone else. No one should care about what we’re doing in privacy, when being with each other. Who would care to find out that the difference between me and Jaehyun is that I’m desperately in love with you? Well, huh, wait.“ Yuta paused, smirked and raised an brow at you with his signature playful smile. “How does that make me any different from Jaehyun then?“ Yuta smarted quickly, full on beaming so proud of his own joke. You punched his shoulder playfully, finally being able to get away from his grip. Now that he made jokes about Jaehyun, it almost felt like nothing at all changed.

“Congratulations, boo.“ Jaehyun shoved a bouquet in your face. You smiled, taking the flowers from his grip, giving them barely a glance as your hand turned them facing down. Your eyes darted from one corner to the other, not focusing on Jaehyun even for the slightest second. If you did though, you would’ve noticed how his smile turned downwards as his eyes soaked in your indifference. You were thankful that he came, you were so happy he came for you, but there was a main question that needed to be asked.

“Where’s Yuta?“ You asked impatiently. Jaehyun’s eyes, that lit up upon your attention on him extinct as he heard your question.

“Don’t know.“ He had to clear his throat before replying.

“Don’t you live together?“ You scrutinised Jaehyun, almost too accusatory for such a public instance.

“I’m sorry.“ Jaehyun lowered his gaze to the ground, hitting your heart with a pang and maybe finally bringing you back to your senses. You smiled apologetically, almost poking his cheek at how terribly cute he looked with his head down, apologising for not knowing whereabouts of your not-boyfriend-boyfriend. You pressed Jaehyun’s bouquet to his chest and he jerked his head up in fear at first, relaxing as he saw your soft face expression. Did he think you were going to throw those flowers at him? You almost felt hurt that your best friend thought you were a bitch.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You came to my graduation despite being a very busy boy.“ You murmured as softly as possible being surrounded by hundreds of other school graduates. Jaehyun showed you his dimples and you took a step forward, keeping the flowers to his chest. “You’re the very best, as usual.“ Jaehyun chuckled and tapped the top of your head.

“Don’t“ he beamed, pleased.

“And very sweet, you didn’t have to buy me peonies.“ You ogled properly the flowers, to not ogle over Jaehyun. His hand on the top of your hair felt like lava dripped down from where he touched you. It felt too hot, despite it being very early February. You found his hand with your free one, touching his palm with yours and making sure it wasn’t even hot, it was your body having thermoregulations issues.

“You came to my graduation, I came to yours. That’s what best friends do, boo.“ Jaehyun wiggled your fingers in his hold, making you emotional. That’s what best friends do, then what the f is the boyfriend doing - not coming to one important thing in your life.

“I think ‘boo’ has romantic under text, Jaehyun.“ you chuckled, processing what he called you. “Someone might overhear us and think we’re romantically involved.“ You chuckled at the thought, it seemed a little funny to you, when your eyes still searched for Yuta with peripheral vision.

“It’s only romantic if you make it sound this way. I was envisioning boo like a ghost, because you’ve been more of a ghost in my life for the past half a year. You’ve been ghosting me, boo.“ He smirked as he smarted his last sentence, and you swallowed a chuckle, moving your head disapprovingly. You hugged him instead of an answer, squeezing the flowers between your bodies because you felt weird and thought it’d be a great shield from direct contact with his body. “Love you.“ Jaehyun whispered lowly above your ear, his arm squeezing your shoulders, the other one patting your back. “Not romantically, in case you’ve started to imagine things.“ He chuckled and you couldn’t stop yourself from pinching his side.

“Shut up.“ You tried to wiggle out of the hug, Jaehyun’s fingers only gripping tighter onto your shoulder. “I love you, too.“

“I hope no one’s taking pics, huh.“ Jaehyun immediately let go of you, pulling back up the face mask on his face, as if the past 10 minutes weren’t enough to recognise him for whoever wanted to recognise him.

“I’m here for Jungkook’s graduation.“ he pushed the flowers against your chest once again and took a very big step back. “I don’t even know you. Who are you, again?“ He squeezed his eyes like he couldn’t see you and you shrugged. He was talking at least two times louder, like he couldn’t hear you through the crowd and you needed to keep up with him.

“Don’t know you either… are you sure you’re Jungkook’s friend? I don’t think he ever mentioned you.“ Your pointing finger made a zigzag in the air, like it could help you remember something. “Do you even see him?“ You smirked because Jaehyun have not stepped a foot away from you since the moment he arrived and it didn’t seem like he was trying to look for anyone else.

“Just lost him out of my sight.“ Jaehyun scratched his forehead like he tried to remember which direction his friend went.

“I see.“ You nodded, smiling because Jaehyun couldn’t keep his face straight. He shoved the flowers against your face to hide you from him.

“Oh! Jaehyunie!“ You heard an exclamation from behind.

“My princess!“ You jumped in place, quickly turning to find the source of that sound, finally training your eyes on the man that tried to crawl through all students and families.

“Dad!“ You exclaimed and lost yourself in a hug.

“Congratulations, I’m so proud of you.“ Your dad kissed both your cheeks, before one more bouquet appeared before your eyes.

“Thank you.“ You smiled and kissed your fathers cheek in return.

“Come here, greet your mother.“ Your mom called for you, somehow her hand settled on Jaehyun’s wrist, the deadly grip making it impossible for him to disappear. You gave your mom a quick hug, and allowed her to kiss your cheek. “We should take a photo together. Jaehyun, take one for us.“

“Of course, ma’am.“ Jaehyun bowed like a well-trained puppy and showed you his dimples for encouragement. Your mum forced the face mask off his face somewhere in the process, you laughed.

“One, two, say kimchi.“ He pressed onto the cameras button and the sound of shutter let you know the photo was taken.

“Now with your mom only.“ Your father pressed you into your mothers side and forced you to smile, taking the camera out of Jaehyun’s grip. He stood there awkwardly, next to your dad like he was next in line for something. Another sound of shutter. “Now with me only.“ Your dad took the spot next to you and you tried to pose more enthusiastically than before. Click and the pic is done. Jaehyun blinked quietly, when it felt like a perfect que for him to exit the scene, your dad made it impossible “With Jaehyun now, too!“

“It’s fine.“ Your friend protested as he read confusion on your face. It wasn’t even confusion, you just wanted a picture with Yuta on your graduation day and you were not getting one and you were hurt. You would trade a photo with Jaehyun in a heartbeat to one with Yuta. You anyway had hundreds of pics with Jaehyun, it wouldn’t hurt if you had one less.

“No, come here, Jungkook’s friend.“ you gestured for him to get to you.

“Okay, princess.“ He mocked, making the tone of his voice funny trying to impersonate your dad. You rolled your eyes in fake annoyance, immediately being gagged by your own body when Jaehyun’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his side. Your head turned to see Jaehyun, because you were flabbergasted all of a sudden and needed to see if he felt any of that. Seemed like he didn’t, he cracked a smile, showing off his dimples, fingers of his free hand forming a V. Sound of shutter and there you have a picture of you staring up at Jaehyun. “One more!“ You shout before anyone could move from their place.

Jaehyun, thank god, moved his hand off your waist to drop it on top of your head and smiled once again. You smiled too, snugging an arm over his waist this time.

“One, two, three, kimchi!“ Your dad announced loudly and you tickled Jaehyun’s side, forcing a chuckle out his throat. It sounded so unusually low you needed a second to process what that was, because he suddenly make your insides tremble with how low that sound was. You stole a quick glance at Jaehyun, seeing how that tickle made his whiskers appear, you prayed he’d have them visible in the photo too.

You unglued yourself from your best friend when the two of you stood too close for too long.

“Who’s Jungkook?“ Your mom wondered.

“Jaehyun’s friend that graduates today too.“ You stated the simple truth.

“Do you know him?“ What did she mean by that? Why did she care? Oh god.

“Jaehyun, do you want to join us for celebratory lunch? Of course, if only your schedule allows you to join us.“ Your dad slightly bowed like Jaehyun was some sort of serious politician, sportsman or at least a senior to him.

“He’s a celebrity now! Of course he doesn’t have time to dine with us!“ Your mom waved off your father at the silly suggestion.

“No, no, mr and missis y/l/n, I would gladly join your lunch to celebrate graduation of your daughter.“ Jaehyun almost bowed 90 degrees in deepest reverence for your parents and you had to physically catch his shoulder mid way to stop him at least at 45 degrees.

“Ah! Jaehyunie! The tone of your voice, it’s so deep and charming! I can’t believe it, just last time I saw you it wasn’t like that“ Your mom hid her face in her hands in shock, she acted like a whole different person when it came to Jaehyun, you hated how she couldn’t do the same to Yuta, or you. You really didn’t want to remind her she saw him more than a year ago and that his voice has been this way for a little while.

“It just happened overnight.“ Jaehyun chuckled, his ears suddenly turning pink, as he walked in front of you with your parents. You wondered if you’d trail off the route, how quickly they’d notice you were gone.

“What is this?“ you felt a rush of warmth throughout your body, making your palm immediately sweaty in Yuta’s hold. You don’t know exactly why would you ask the question, when you could see very clearly for yourself the words above the entrance. Motel. And the door was graced with a piece of paper, that read hourly rates applicable. You felt warm rashes through your body every time you read those words and if you continued you most likely would’ve fell on the floor from high blood pressure. The door opened and you tore your hand from Yuta’s hold, hiding your face even more behind the mask and the cap you wore. You had another rash of sweat down your spine as you saw people walk down the stairs, both the man and the lady looked like they had sex just a minute ago, which honestly most likely wasn’t a mistake. It was an hourly motel, at the end of the day.

“A place, where you and I can be one on one with no fear of being seen, disturbed or whatever.“ Yuta found your hand once again and squeezed it.

“It’s an hourly motel.“ You said out loud and felt even more sweat form on your lower back. If Yuta wasn’t able to distinguish your feelings by your face that hid behind clothing, he should’ve definitely felt it in the tone of your voice. You almost lost balance on your two feet as another couple walked past you, this time inside the building and if it wasn’t for Yuta’s grip on you, you would’ve took off away right then and there.

“Yes, it doesn’t matter. Does it? You and me together is the only thing that matters.“

“What if someone sees us?“ Your throat gave up on you as the thought gave you a whiplash.

“Trust me, just trust me. Come on.“ Yuta moved your body in front of his, grabbing your face with his hands. Despite your endless will to trust him, you were having second hand thoughts on the idea. “Do you really want to leave? I promise you, I really tried to pick a good one. Coming in or leaving?“ Yuta asked concerned, now that he was able to see your eyes he could very clearly tell that you were concerned - well who wouldn’t - and tried to make you feel better.

“Coming in.“ your voice sounded weaker than usual. Yuta smiled and kissed your face, where he’d guessed through the mask your mouth was and dragged you behind himself.

“Why are you not taking the mask off?“ Yuta glanced quickly at your unmoving body on the corner of the bed, before continuing with whatever he was doing in his backpack. The thing did seem packed to the brim and you were curious what Yuta had in there, before he brought you to the hourly motel. It did look nice inside, despite the room being small and obviously cheap - it was relatively fresh renovation and almost didn’t look like you rented this thing for 5 hours, though you couldn’t kill the thought of people coming in here to specifically have sex, and you couldn’t stop thinking on the number of people that had sex in this exact room and you couldn’t stop thinking how you most likely are going to end up doing the same thing and what’s even worse than that, you couldn’t stop thinking-

“What if there’s a hidden camera? Or worse… many cameras?“ You couldn’t even lift your hand to reveal your face to possibly hidden viewers in this room.

“What?“ Yuta chuckled at your -ridiculous- suggestion, before swallowing and leaving his backpack alone to stand in front of you. The bed had tall legs, allowing Yuta to not bend too much to be on your level. His fingers squeezed your cheeks and forced the face mask down your face. “I wouldn’t bring you to some weird ass place with sperm sprayed all over the walls.“ Well, good, but still, you would’ve appreciated an actual hotel much more. “I heard good things about this place from my friends… well, because not everyone is Jeong Jaehyun with an apartment in Apgujeong.“ there was no emotion in the tone of his voice, he was just saying things he thought, but it stung so fucking badly how he always had to put Jaehyun in comparison. Even if his family home was in the most expensive district of Seoul, it didn’t mean Yuta was any poor coming here from Japan. He was poor because in the circumstance he was a foreigner with no home and was sent a certain amount by his parents, not because he didn’t have any money at home. It wasn’t about Jaehyun or this place or anything else at all. It was about you and Yuta, but somehow he wanted it to be about someone else too. “Anyway, my friends come here sometimes, it’s not too low class, at least these sheets are clean, okay? Once I have a better option, we won’t have to do it like that.“

“Okay.“ You gave Yuta an unnoticeable nod, his lips brushing the corner of your lips in reply.

“There’s no hidden cam, don’t even think of such things. I wouldn’t bring you to a place like that nor would I risk my very real career for a fuck.“ Very real as if in what you were doing wasn’t that real? Or were you trying to read between the lines too much because you were in a very smitten mood. Almost in a mood where if you weren’t your usual mushy self when it came to Yuta you would’ve stood up and left. Because this was making you feel uncomfortable to an extent you can’t describe. “It’s your birthday, I just wanted us to be together. I have a surprise, close your eyes.“ Yuta smiled at you sweetly, like when he wanted you to do things he wanted and you didn’t. You gave him a smile too, because you were getting all grumpy and unfriendly because whatever this was didn’t meet with your expectations. You pecked his lips and closed your eyes with a smile on your lips that hurt a little, because you were trying really hard not to think of your last birthday, when Jaehyun invited you to that Apgujeong home and made you feel happy.

You listened to Yuta’s shuffling, probably in that backpack of his, finally you felt his knees bump into yours as he got back in front of you and you felt his fingers wrap around yours. “You can open your eyes.“ And you did so on command, met with a view of Yuta in a birthday hat, throwing a spiral confetti in your face. “Happy birthday!“

“Thank you.“ You smiled, flinching as the thrown confetti almost hit your face. Yuta’s now free hand pushed your cap off your head, forcefully putting on a party cone that said birthday girl. You chuckled sincerely, helping Yuta with the elastic band over your chin.

“I love you, birthday girl.“ you beamed because despite what you just thought and felt you loved him too. Yuta leaned in to you a little more making the ring on his necklace visible from his shirt, you didn’t even have a second to think, you just leaned in and kissed his mouth, because there was nothing else to do. The past year have been very tough on the both of you. You started it off badly with your transition and after that long break of not talking to each other you rebuild what you had in a very low-key manner. Too low-key even for your liking, you couldn’t imagine what Yuta felt like. You could quite possibly count on your fingers the number of times the two of you kissed, so kissing him like this felt a little unreal. Just your lips on Yuta’s, being able to move slowly, marking every bit of his mouth with love and need, to be in his arms and continue kissing him like that. You invited Yuta’s tongue in your mouth, as he moved it slowly against your closed lips. He finally grabbed onto your neck, allowing for you to slightly back up against his hold, because it was hard for you to hold your composure. You almost forgot how good of a kisser Yuta was - not that you had anyone to compare it to - your tongue licked against his and as your body leaned back against the mattress, Yuta chased your mouth, not wishing to break the kiss even for a moment, finding balance next to your shoulders. “You’re making it incredibly hard to focus on anything else, my love.“ Yuta found it in him to pull away for a moment, only to lean back in and kiss your cupids bow, pressing his nose against your cheek.

“What were you planning to do, bringing me to an hourly motel?“ You chuckled, not even annoyed anymore, just curious because it did sound a little funny to you.

“We probably spent less than 24 hours together in a whole damn year since your last birthday. Doing anything together is fine. I mean it when I say I miss you.“ Yuta bit onto his lip, staring you down. “I haven’t seen you up close like this probably in a whole fucking year, and you’re my girlfriend. How ridiculous is that?“

“I always think of that time we went to Japan and had a real nice date. That is the sweetest thing anyone ever did to me.“

“Me too, I always think about that night.“ Yuta’s lips kissed your jaw, as his body dropped on the bed next to you, unable to hold his bodyweight with his arms any longer. “When your first vacation comes, first thing we’re doing - a trip anywhere, just you and me.“

“Promise?“ Your heart chirped, that’s exactly a promise you needed from him.

“Yes, love, promise.“ Yuta cosied himself on the mattress, snaking both his hands to lay half of you on top of him.

“What if our schedules don’t ever match up?“ You worried.

“I don’t think it’s possible for us to never match in schedules. Don’t worry, I’ll make it work for you.“ Yuta’s fingers trailed a line from your elbow to the shoulder. You had to swallow, because you really wanted to ask him why would he not make it work for your school graduation when Jaehyun did make it work. Jaehyun, who was a little busier with schedules than Yuta, you needed to be a blind fool to not notice how your friend had side gigs and Yuta didn’t. He had no excuse to not come, the thought been eating you up for months. You had to swallow it once again, because you didn’t want to fight, because maybe not saying a thing about it now, months after, was the best thing for you. Maybe Yuta couldn’t even remember by now, since he never brought it up himself.

You rolled your arms before your body, bouncing slightly on the floor to the beat, as the last beat approached, you counted in your head 1 and 2 and 3 and 4, and stood up gracefully with a turn in the ending pose. After a pause for not longer than 5 seconds you heard intensive clapping and even sounds of encouragement behind you. 5 people in front of you though kept their faces emotionless, but somehow it didn’t faze you anymore. They always tried to keep that mysterious aura, fear everyone to insecurity and plain panic, but if you worked hard they didn’t usually say a bad thing-or more likely you didn’t hear them say bad things to you and others-, well, you developed an ability of turning your brain off as soon as your bum met with the floor and you weren’t sure how things went for others. It’s been a year and you still didn’t make many friends in the company and at this point pretty much gave up and kept everyone as friendly acquaintance. At least they didn’t want to be mean in your face, fake friendliness you could bare with. Everyone clapped and cheered because it’d paint them as supportive friends and good people - more points when it comes to evaluations. You knew the rule and followed it yourself, this clearly wasn’t the place to be not like other girls, but it didn’t change anything.

You bent a little and caught your breath in two heavy breathes, straining your back back at the evaluation committee.

“Good.“ Your choreographer nodded to fellow evaluators. “Questions, notes, grades?“

“Could you share with us why you chose the choreography and the song?“ Mr.Lee, the creative director asks you.

“Theme of this month is hip-hop, we had guest choreographers this month that helped us improve our hip-hop skills. I wanted to do something fresh and relevant, something that would allow for you to see my improvement, but wouldn’t be a copy-paste of things we did in class. Seemed like a perfect choice.“ You noticed a slight nod in the oratory teachers’ head, you breathed in satisfied - you definitely checked off a box in her list.

“Wasn’t the song released on Wednesday? You learned it in one day?“ your choreographer continued with the questions, only to be interrupted by JYP himself.

“You didn’t prepare for the evaluation well? Choosing a song so new is very irresponsible.“ The song was released just a day ago, they were right, but you did prepare for the evaluation thoroughly. You’ve been learning this choreo whenever you had an opportunity to see or hear Yuta, whenever the two of you face timed or very rarely talked in person. You would’ve told them the truth if it didn’t borne more questions and awkward stares. Your only option was to claim you were able to learn it in one glance.

“No, I was preparing GOT7’s Never Ever, but heard the NCT song yesterday and thought how it clearly fits the hip-hop theme better. Changed my choice last minute.“ Yes, you somehow had the crazy idea of doing Cherry Bomb for the monthly evaluation in a day after it was released. You hoped it was believable you were able to learn the dance in a day. They looked at you for a few seconds and you didn’t understand the meaning behind the stare. “I believe I was able to show my own colour while following the choreography flawlessly and be on theme.“ You stated confidently, they tried to push you into insecurity - it was their way of doing things, one of already debuted artists at the company shared the life hack. Stand your ground and talk confidently - they’ll accept any answer as long as they don’t see you flinch at persistence.

“If you learned the choreo that flawlessly in a day it’s impressive.“ Your choreographer smiled at you in a very low-key manner and you bowed, to show your gratitude and hide traces of a smile you swallowed.

“Did you learn the whole dance or just the dance break?“ Your eyes darted back at JYP that seemed curious.

You knew by heart the whole thing through Yuta’s part. The only reason you chose the dance break hid behind the fact that somehow NCT had the most embarrassing dance moves throughout the song and doing all those jumps and weird hand movements in front of all these people on your own would’ve killed you. For real. The dance break plus last chorus including that part where you had to drop on your back for the ending point was the perfect fit for the 60 seconds you were given to perform.

“I learned most of the song, but I enjoyed the dance break and chorus the most, thus decided to show that part.“

“Okay, I have nothing to add. If you’re ready, we can get to singing.“ you nodded and took a step to the mark on the floor.

You had a tingling sensation of nervousness at the back of your neck. It was always advised to not take long to start off, otherwise you could possibly be asked to step away as unprofessional. You took a breath and made a sound with your throat.

“Ah, I heard you took first place in your evaluation group.“ Yeji smiled at you, you gave her a barely noticeable nod as you and a bunch of other people left the elevator. “Cool, that means we’re training in the same group for the upcoming month.“ You stopped midway as you were pulling your mask up, almost automatic move as you were leaving the building.

“You placed first?“ You exclaimed, your voice resonating probably through the whole hall. She gave you an excited nod, and you felt so happy for her. She worked so hard to beat everyone this time and you jumped excitedly, squeezing the girl in front of you excitedly. She clearly was taken aback for a moment, hence the two of you never hugged or had much physical contact in the past year, but you felt happy for her and maybe felt like it was the time to break the wall. You let go of Yeji, grabbing her wrists next and jumping excitedly, making the girl hyped up and jump with you. “Yay! Yeji, I’m so proud of you.“ Your fingers squeezed the life out of her wrists. “They want us to do duet for this month, to see how well we work in smaller teams.“

“Really? I haven’t heard of this months’ theme yet. If you don’t have a partner yet, it’d be such an honour for me to pair up with you.“

“Stop! It’s no honour and I would love to work on something with you.“

“Yay!“ She clapped and her pretty eyes and smile made you so happy. You genuinely felt happy for her, you genuinely felt proud. You felt a little flare up in your chest that you didn’t want it to ignite too much, but the thought crossed your mind anyway. If only we could debut together.

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bratpak · 3 months

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FLORIAN SANICO is the young, hot, and not rich CEO of ACIDIC RECORDS. He only acquired Acidic Records after his stepfather's passing in 2020. Being born in the Philippines in 1988 to a single mom, Florian grew up primarily raised by his grandparents until his mom found her future husband when Florian was just seven years old. Florian's stepfather would embody the term "the father that stepped up," immediately taking on the father role in Florian's life that the little boy so desperately wanted. When he was ten years old, Florian's father, a South Korean man, would relocate the family to South Korea for his work and to provide a better life for them, which he most certainly did. While in South Korea, Florian would attend the most expensive international school and the most prestigious universities there, obtaining degrees in business management, marketing, psychology, and international business.

Money has never been an issue for Florian if you can't tell.

Acidic Records was a mere side quest for his father, only housing underground indie soloists and producers. They never did anything noteworthy until Florian was appointed CEO in 2020, immediately opening auditions for their training program. Florian has always believed KPOP was where the money was, and his father was just too old to handle the times.

He was...almost right!

With the debut of BRATPACK in 2022, Florian found it much more difficult to break into the KPOP market than planned, initially losing a lot of money in the BRATPACK venture. However, with the group's rapidly rising success and album sales, Florian might not be such a failure after all.

ALMANDA SUMMERS is the alias of the creative director of BRATPACK. No one knows who she is or has ever seen her face. No one can find anything about this woman; seriously, she is a mystery.

Besides her Twitter account.

Almanda, believed to be a woman in her late twenties, is very active on Twitter and Instagram, often posting pictures of her visions for the group and commenting on recent events in the KPOP realm. Though she is quite loved by the fandom, some people believe she is an instigator and gets BRATPACK into drama they would've never gotten into if Almanda just turned her phone off.

Either way, her constantly running mouth doesn't derail her from being one of the most known and sought-after creative directors in KPOP at the moment. Bringing forth aesthetics and ideas the genre has never seen before or has left untouched for too long in her opinion, Almanda is an icon and legend in the making.

TONYA FUKUI is a former African-American—Japanese supermodel whose career was cut short due to a cheating scandal that had her dubbed "Japan's Hottest Homewrecker " for well over a decade now. Though her modeling career was done, she went behind the scenes and started working as a stylist for high-end clients, turned Jpop acts, and turned Kpop acts. Truly, she was just chasing where the money went to fund her purse addiction.

Tonya has worked with groups such as AESPA, NCT 127, NCT DREAM, RED VELVET, SHINEE, EXO, GOT7, STRAYKIDS, NMIXX, BLACKPINK, and many, many more. If you liked an outfit your favorite idol wore, Tonya most likely designed it for them.

Now, she primarily spends her time styling BRATPACK as she claims they let her be as creative as she wants. After years of being a punching bag for the general public, Tonya is finally adored again, mainly just people on BRATPACK Twitter, but hey! It's a start.

AUGUSTUS MOON is the main producer of BRATPACK. He began working in the KPOP industry at just seventeen years old when he and his sister, Autumn Moon, fled America and went to South Korea to get away from their abusive parents. Though Augustus has had some solo releases himself and has garnered a small following, he much prefers sticking behind the scenes as he says, "KPOP is not for me. I hate dancing." even though his Tiktok page will contradict that statement.

Augustus was born in 1995 in Chicago. He doesn't speak much about his time in America, deeming it "a test on if he really wanted to live or not" and saying his life only really started when he moved to South Korea and started making music.

Before exclusively working with Acidic Records and BRATPACK, Augustus would work with a wide variety of KPOP acts and make an even wider variety of songs. Some are phenomenal, and some are the worst things you've ever heard. Not every track can be a winner!

AUTUMN MOON is the main producer of BRATPACK and a part-time soloist. At sixteen, she fled America with her brother and moved to South Korea to get away from her abusive parents. Autumn and Augustus are glued at the hip. You'd swear they're twins by how in sync they are with one another.

Unlike her brother, Autumn is a soloist as well as a producer. However, she has seemingly put her own music career on the back burner to focus on BRATPACK and motherhood. That's right! Actual mother! Autumn has a nine-year-old son, Eunji, who she adores and loves dearly. She married her long-time boyfriend and ISSAYAH member, Suh Jaehyun, last summer and is currently pregnant with their first child.

Autumn has been very open about her love for music and how happy working with BRATPACK makes her. Between her very fulfilling personal life and flourishing career, Autumn has attracted her own fanbase, calling her "Life Goals" and starting the trend of autumnism, where people try to live their lives like Autumn's.

Though her solo career, which only caught her attention once she decided to hang it up, has been put on halt, Autumn is very happy with where she is in life and adds a layer of hope to the BRATPACK team.

#෨. ࣪ 𑂴 development #fictional idol community #kpop oc #idol oc #idol au #kpop addition #kpop au #fictional kpop community #bts addition #oc kpop group #fake kpop oc #fictional idol group #fictional kpop idol #idolverse #oc girl group #fake kpop idol

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acourtofthought · 9 months

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"Elain would make a terrible High Lady"

"I've seen Rhysand do such ... horrible things, seen him play the dark prince over and over."

"I am here to help you fight against Hybern." "Bullshit," Cassian muttered.

"You'd be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one." "No one says war can't be lucrative," Helion countered.

I waited for it - for the blow that would surely doom us. We were thieves who had deceived him, we had come to his house in peace and stolen from him, had ripped into their minds to ensure our success.

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he'd blasted through Eris's shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. / "Call of your overgrown bat," Beron ordered Rhys. Rhys was enjoying it, bargainw ith Eris or no - could have ended it seconds ago.

"You're a coward," I breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Beron just said, "The same could be claimed of you." My stomach churned. "I don't need to explain myself to you." "No, but perhaps to that girl's family - but they're dead, too, aren't they? Butchered and burned to death in their own beds.

There was still much work to be done, trust to build.

The High Lords quarreled the most about the possibility of a new wall. And with every word of it, just as Helion said, that temporary allegiance frayed and snapped.

"We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace." "Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them."

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. / "They're hypocrites." "And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?" Azriel didn't answer.

"Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male." "I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did." "You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully." I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. "My business with him is done." "Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact."

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability.

I find the "Elain would make a terrible High Lady" arguments odd. The above is just a small list of what the leadership in Prythian looks like and the actions of those that report directly to a High Lord (who should be able to expect certain behaviors from his inner circle in important meetings or in regards to an entire group of their people). I'm not even trying to suggest that anyone is a bad High Lord, clearly Rhys and his ICs actions are meant to read as amusing and entertaining or warranted. And I think in certain situations there's only choosing between the lesser of two evils.

But it's evident that no one is perfect, that even the current High Lords are capable of mistakes and drama. And with so many strong personalities currently in charge, there is space for someone who approaches things in a different manner.

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 and tarts at various points in the day.

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.

She was generous, loving, and kind.

Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs.

She put a hand on Nesta's knee. "Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us now help her. Help ... others."

A lady - that's what Elain would become. What she was risking for this. (Lady?!? As in High Lady?! Possible foreshadowing???)

"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.

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

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, "And as for Feyre's hunting during those years, it was not Nesta's neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us."

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, "I assume you'll want to stay the night." I said, "If it's not too much trouble, then yes. We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow." Nesta didn't smile, but Elain beamed.

But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to - . To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last.

Then Elain said quietly, "We could move them to Graysen's estate." "His father has high walls - made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies." "There are escape tunnels," Elain whispered. "Perhaps it is better than nothing." A glance between the Illyrians. "We can set up a guard - " Cassian began. "No," Elain interrupted, her voice louder than I'd heard it in months. "They...Graysen and his father..." Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then we cloak -" "They have hounds. Bred and trained to hunt you. Detect you." / Elain considered. "I can speak to him." "No," I said - at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us of. "If - if you, and they" - a glance at Rhys, my friends - "come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs." "Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate." "This could end very badly, Elain." "It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." "Wisely said," Mor offered, smiling softly at Elain.

Then she was gone - shoulders a little squarer.

Elain offered a half smile. "I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant."

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 swept in, apron gone and hair re-braided. "Please don't wait on my account," she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

"It's their tradition though," Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. "One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that's the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for it's very existence, for the peace this city now has." 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 asked Nuala to do it in that order," Elain said as the others gathered round. "Because you're the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.

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. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question. Elain waved a hand in dismissal.

"Using me."

"Elain showed some teeth."

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way".

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn't hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was part of this court - and would do whatever was needed.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Let's recap. Elain owns up to her mistakes, gives credit where credit is due, is wise, observant, easily makes friends, can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles, is willing to help out a people she only just became one of (and grew up fearing), brave when the situation calls for it, takes charge and pushes back on topics she thinks are important and is now offering herself up to dangerous situations. I also think it's important to note her diplomatic nature. Whereas Feyre and Nesta spent their childhood at one another's throats and hating their father, Elain managed a decent relationship to all three. No, she's not in a place to rule an entire court all on her own but neither was Feyre, that's why she had a partner by her side to help her learn (as Elain would too, these are romance books after all).

Prythian doesn't need another ruler who is willing to burn relationships in order to achieve a specific end result. No shade to Rhys, he's extremely self sacrificing and someone needs to fill the role that he does.

But we don't need another Rhys and Feyre, another Beron, another Tamlin, or even Tarquin (who while being a good male, doesn't really seem to go out of his way to interact with other courts). It needs a set of rulers who are better at negotiating peace between not only the courts but the human lands and those on the continent.

We know Lucien is set up to be a High Lord at some point (though something would need to happen to Helion for him to begin ruling in Day) and Elain is his mate. We know Tamlin is not currently any sort of leader to Spring so that means there could be a vacancy there. I doubt SJM told us that Elain's scent was a "promise of Spring" and that "the Spring Court had been made for someone like Elain" for absolutely no reason.

Of the possible future pairings, who would make more sense ruling the Fae in either Spring or Day?

Vassa and Lucien? Vassa who is a human Queen and has shown absolutely no interest in the needs of the fae after the war?

Az and Gwyn? Neither Gwyn or Az have been given hints that they'd be leaders of a court nor do they currently have anything to do with Day Court or Spring. Yes, Gwyn has Spring heritage through her grandmother but she doesn't have a connection to the political system there, nor does Az. Not like Lucien.

I think there is a huge amount of evidence showing why Elain would make an excellent leader and that's not even accounting for the fact that mates are equals. Even if in some weird twist she and Lucien don't end up together, it doesn't change that fact.

Mates are reflections of one another.

Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, Feyre became his High Lady with the power of all 7 High Lords, both having a darkness to them.

Cassian is one of the strongest Illyrian's and the general of the Illyrians. Nesta had the power of death and is set to be the general of the Valkyries.

Lucien is a High Lords heir, showing the markers of such (knocking Cassian from his rage with a single word) AND has strong fire powers through his mothers line. Through Lucien we learned that High Lords are a different breed and through the Suriel we learned that they are not merely powerful, they are Power.

Elain as his mate would need to be a match to Lucien's power and even if she were not a High Lady chosen by the magic, there is little chance Lucien would not make her his High Lady as Rhys made Feyre his, meaning she would be a ruler by his side.

Diminishing all that we know of Elain and what we know of mates, claiming she'd be a horrible ruler though SJM mated her to a future High Lord, it's fandom pettiness born of hatred for her character.

#elucien #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #high lady elain

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monstersandmaw · 9 months

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Holy moly, folks, this one was supposed to be a 3k word story, ready to post in the middle of the month, and (a bit like the last one which was 12k) it morphed into nearly 15k of feels and fun... oof. Thank you so much to those who reassured me on Discord that it was ok to take a few extra days to make sure it was something I was happy to post. I hope you enjoy Celann the grumpy werebear...

Let me also just briefly take this opportunity to thank you for returning to Patreon to support me and for joining up since I relaunched in October. It means the world to me that you value and enjoy my writing enough to pay to have access to it once a month. Really, I cannot tell you what it means to me for you to give me this income and independence. I tear up just trying to explain it, even in words.

Anyway, apologies for the delay! I wish you a very merry festive season, and hopefully there'll be another little Christmas bonus for you too, as per the poll from a while ago. May 2024 bring you every happiness and blessing, folks. And here's to many more stories and characters to share and enjoy.

Content: gender and body neutral reader who is a healer/surgeon, a thinly-disguised Roman Empire/Iron Age Britain setting, a secondary character is seriously injured (no super-gory descriptions, only a brief catalogue of her injuries), a big, gruff and reserved loner werebear, brief brush with hypothermia from the reader, some good old 'cuddling for warmth', and some penetrative sex later on too.

Wordcount: a whopping 14,585!

Castle Rise Outpost, in the extreme, northernmost reaches of the Republic’s ever-expanding territories, was hardly the most illustrious or auspicious posting you could have hoped for.

As you and your tired horse plodded along the sandy track over the region’s high, wind-blasted heath, your heart ached for every last mile that stretched between there and your warmer homeland. It all seemed so far behind you now, but this was a new start and a new adventure as the surgeon and healer attached to one of the Republic’s vast network of military outposts, and you were determined to make a good life of it.

Gods though, this place really was desolate.

On your right, away to the east where the light was fast fading, a dense forest of gnarled and mossy oak trees looked as though it was spilling down from the rolling hills and tumbling inexorably down into the valley in a wild, green tangle, and below the treeline, a fast-flowing river cut through the landscape in a dark and sinuous ribbon. The water was rich with tannins from the falling leaves in the forest, and as the ebbing light caught it, you thought ominously of the colour of blood. Behind the forest, as the afternoon darkened towards the deeper hue of an early autumn evening, the far off shape of the snow-capped Highlands lurked on the horizon; their shape now black and foreboding as the stage background of a mummer’s drama.

The commiserations of your fellow graduates from the medical academy in the capital now rang in your ears as the wind picked up and you tugged the thick, woollen cloak further up around your neck to keep the damned weather out. The chestnut mare, your only constant companion for the hundred or so miles since the last major city, tossed her head and trudged on with her long, damp forelock dangling into her eyes and obscuring the white, asymmetrical blaze that dribbled down her ginger face towards her nose. She seemed half asleep on her feet, and you weren’t far off that yourself either.

A flock of rooks erupted out of a patch of dark elm and tall sycamore in the valley below on your right, tugging your mind back to the present. Your gaze tracked them as they sailed away like flakes of dark ash on the wind. Both you and the rangy mare shifted nervously, and you couldn’t help but remind yourself that the locals weren’t always friendly to the Republic’s advances further and further north. Stories of skirmishes and wild tales of shapeshifters and sacrificial magic swirled through the ranks of soldiers, but they were largely dismissed by those who had lived a comfortable life in the Republic’s neatly-planned towns and cities, with their hot bath complexes, intricate mosaics, and heated floors.

“Not long now, Copper,” you said, petting the horse’s mud-encrusted neck as much for your own reassurance as for hers. You’d named her for the vibrant colour of her coat, reminiscent too of beech leaves at the height of the season, but you’d been made to feel foolishly sentimental for giving such an ordinary horse a name like ‘Copper’ by the progressively rougher soldiers at the staging posts on the journey north.

The mare didn’t even flick her ear in your direction at the sound of your voice, and you sighed and pushed yourself back up into a better position in the saddle, shifting uncomfortably as your bruised seat-bones protested yet another day of riding. How the Messenger Corps managed, living almost their entire life in the saddle, you had no idea.

The fort itself came into view on the next rise in the road, and Copper’s ears finally pricked up at the break in the relative monotony of heather and sand and occasional rowan tree. Your own attention was caught, however, by the fact that ‘Castle Rise’ outpost was not, in fact, a castle at all. From that distance, it looked like little more than a grubby wooden palisade with a watch tower over the gateway, and a ditch running around it. Torches bobbed along the walls at regular intervals though, marking the sentries’ routes within, and when you reached the gate and drew rein, a woman’s rough alto yelled down at you.

“Announce yourself!”

You did, adding, “Healer and surgeon assigned to the outpost, until relieved of my duties by a replacement next year.”

“If you even survive up here that long!” she crowed back at you.

Read the whole thing now over on Patreon! For $3 you can have access to all my previous (pre-2023) stories, and for $5 you can have access to all that, plus all the new monthly exclusives.

#werebear #werebear x human #werebear x reader #reader x werebear #male werebear #male werebear x reader #gender neutral reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #patreon

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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Fall Versus Foliage

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Geto Suguru Makes His Debut; Takes Place Between Star Plasma Vessel Incident & Death Of Haibara; Fluff, Very Little Angst, Humor & Drama!! Contains Spoilers. Canon-Compliant. [Geto's Already Spiralling Here.] [I Hate Canon.]

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

Your Best Friend is Gojo. Gojo's Best Friend is Geto. Your Mortal Enemy is Geto.

"Oi, you six-eyed cellar spider! Where the fuck you hidin', huh?"

Wrenching the shoji door open, you charge onto the backyard of your home, wading through the tall grasses overcrowding your so precious lawn. Somewhere from behind, someone calls your name in an overly frantic tone— paying them no attention, you proceed forwards, wrath coursing through your arteries and veins– colouring your vision with a furious shade of red.

Honestly speaking, this isn't how you envisioned your weekend going. You were under the impression you might be able to get some indeed very much needed rest these two days— maybe with some fun too in the mix, given how you invited your friends to this tucked away home you've in the countryside.

Then again, you never envisioned someone gobbling your Neapolitan ice cream– the entirety of it– did you, now?

"Hey, Gojo," you holler once again, eyes roaming in search of the bane of your existence, when you suddenly stop at the sight before, only to increase the speed of your attack within the next instant. "Oi, Satoru!" you yell, clenching then relaxing your fists as you march towards that messy mop of white hair partly obscured by the tree trunk its owner's leaning against, "You gone deaf or— huhhh? What the fuck is this??"

Were anyone from your family there right now, you'd have received an earful for such a horrendously unladylike language— you shove every thought of your stick-in-the-mud family members out your mind into the lake nearby, opting to focus on the masterpiece before instead.

Though you're much too unsure, which of them two the masterpiece is.

Must it be the striking painting staring back at you, the woman's eyes carrying fondness yet mystery in their depths while her lips curve in a visibly coy smile, sweet yet cryptic?

Or must it be the striking painter snoozing beside his work, tiny quiet snores leaving him while his head lolls to the side, those black shades sitting tad precariously on his nose?

A muted exhale leaving, you force your shoulders to slump down and relax, your hands reaching forwards to carefully pluck his glasses off– only to still and tense up, registering the presence of another person.

Very intolerable. Very obnoxious. Another. Person.

Suguru offers you an easy smile from where he's propped up against the tree beside Satoru's, an open book lying in his lap. You manage a barely civil smile in response, gritting out, "Why the hell are you here, huh? Never took you to be my 'Toru's watch dog... Senpai."

Even if the boy does detect the disrespect in the term of address you throw in as an after-thought, he makes no comment on it– wearing a smile as placid as before, and replying, "Never took these lawns to be out of bounds for me either— but here are we. Thinking things only to be proved wrong later on. Funny little coin—"

"I'm rather good at reading people," you cut him off, eyes narrowed in a glare as your teeth clack against each other in your attempts to rein in your bubbling irritation and rising volume: Satoru's asleep; he must not be disturbed at any and all costs– "and I think Ieiri-senpai prefers your company to Iori-senpai's when she's smoking. Why don't you go, have a smoke with her, yeah? They're in the other wing of the house."

Or, perhaps, in the same wing of the house adjoining these very same gardens— but you don't add that. With the fewest words spoken, you want Suguru to be gone the quickest, the farthest from Satoru— who seems too delicate, too vulnerable, too breakable in such a state— an uncomfortable shiver slithering down your spine on noticing that tiny scar at the back of his neck, you drag your attention away from him— to the second boy watching you: visibly delighted; tangibly intrigued.

You will your annoyance to be doused: your best friend's asleep; 'Toru Must Not Be Disturbed— his best friend leisurely flips over to another page, though his eyes drift to the new page only for a moment before returning to study you— albeit without the sliver of interest his hawk-like gaze always carries when settling on a hapless girl doomed to be his prey for the night— you observe this with an inward sigh of relief.

Be it for you or for Satoru, you never quite like those who try to come between the two of you friends. You suppose, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either. That pathetic boy who tried to give you an equally pathetic rose in your third grade, still carries remnants of the thrashing your friend had given him on hearing your complaint – you know, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either.

Suguru chuckles softly. "You..." he pauses for a little, seemingly in the search for the right words, then resumes, "You're not good in dealing with feelings, are you? Especially not where it concerns people close to you, right?"

It takes you two seconds before the meaning behind his words spring to life. You clench your fists to keep yourself absolutely rooted there, vision growing red yet again.

"Are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me, Geto?" you query quietly, nails digging deep crescents into the skin of your palms. Suguru's face morphs into an unrushed grin, smug and ugly. You reckon one of your nail's finally broken the skin of your left palm.

The Curse Manipulator shrugs. "That depends on what—"

"Being mean to you isn't me not knowing how to handle my emotions or some shallow shit like that," you cut him off, unclenching your fists and letting the air brush over the red-hot indents in your palm, "Being mean to you is me wanting to be; and you better not be expecting me to change that anytime soon, 'cause I won't–" A barely-heard mumble on kikufuku makes you pause. Throwing a sideways glance at the boy mumbling, you return your focus to the other boy, eyes fixed in a hard stare.

"I hate you and I'm so not the type to be polite with someone, only to bitch about them later on, behind their back— so I'm gonna continue hating you to your face— and I don't care what you might have to say on this, so you better save your breath, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence follows your question, broken not too long after by the black-haired boy's incredulous statement, "I never meant that to refer to myself. I was speaking on your feelings for–" He grows silent suddenly, eyes darting to Satoru for a brief second, before they return to you. Cheshire cat grin back in every bit of its dastardly glory.

"Feelings for someone close to you translates to your hatred for me– hm?" he says, throwing a momentary glance at Satoru yet again, grin unbudged, "You are one very weird girl, you know that?"

"Oh, yeah?" you snap back without missing a beat, "You might not be knowing this— but anger and hatred are equally valid feelings as any other— and regarding the matter of you being someone close to me?" you let out something between a scoff and a sigh, shaking your head, "You're one of the five other faces I see from my age group, at school everyday. Of-fucking-course, you're someone close to me. I'll be kind of upset if— Have you ever been told, your grin is low-key terrifying?"

Your genuine question earns one very hearty laugh from Suguru– it grows tempered soon enough, however, when you pointedly glance at your sleeping friend then shoot the other boy a glare. Sharp. Mad.

The latter smiles at you, shaking his head. "You're really one weird girl —perhaps the weirdest of them all..." he says, wiping a tear away from his eye, shoulders still shaking from his subdued laughter– "However, I can't help but wonder..."

You shift your weight to one foot, the other tapping an impatient tune on the ground as you stuff your hands into your jacket pockets. Smile dimming to grow a touch of honest curiosity, he asks, "You say, anger and hatred are valid emotions, but don't you feel they might burn you from the inside out, consume you and every bit of your life, leave your world in smoke and ash— don't you feel ashamed when you're feeling those? Helpless– miserable when your anger and hatred tears at your insides? Teasing you, taunting you— cursing you?"

It takes you few moments to grasp the entirety of Suguru's question; and when you do, you can't help but feel sorry for him— Though you know better than to offer something as trash as sympathy to another.

Not when it cannot retrieve the lost, resurrect the dead.

Not when it cannot remove the scars– seen and hidden.

Not when it cannot... let your 'Toru sleep without reliving the sight of millions of maggots swarming over him, weak, dying, dying, weak— YouNeedToMakeGetoLeaveNOW—

You fake a yawn, flexing and extending your legs, one at a time.

"Jogging, fencing, complaining, being mean, napping— these are my usual go-to's whenever I feel too overwhelmed by negative emotions," you answer, features made into one of nonchalance then add, almost as a mumbled after-thought, "or when any emotion confuses me too, to be honest. Kicking the wall or the source of your distress helps me too, yeah."

"So... violence is always an option, hm?"

A chuckle moves to fall past your lips— you push it back– misgivings standing where humor should be– when you catch the way Suguru's eyes gleam in the shade granted by the drifting clouds— though that gleam doesn't seem to be gleaming to you. One might accuse you to be unfairly prejudiced against him— but you know you aren't letting a smidgen of those biases tint your vision now.

You know that gleam in his eyes is anything but funny. Anything but light. Anything but good—

The Curse Manipulator rises from his slouch on the ground, sending you another of his easy smiles, though it no longer feels as harmless as it used to, earlier. Your feet move a few steps towards Satoru— in response to your instinct to shield the boy or your desire to be within his comforting aura— you're not very sure, which.

Suguru's smile grows, gaze flitting from his classmate to you. "Thank you for inviting us here. All of us really needed this break after... what happened last year," he says, volume dropping to a whisper, "Thanks a bunch, kid."

You just nod your head in response, fighting the urge to rush to your friend's side— the other boy lets out a muted chuckle, feet moving a couple steps away from you, before he stops and points at the piece of drawing lying before Satoru, held down by a stone paperweight. It is the one you gifted him, many years back at a beach, you recollect.

A tad too tickled statement startles you back to the present.

"Your 'Toru's made his 'sweetness' the subject of that portrait there... think, he fancies her or something?"

Not sparing said portrait a glance, you frown up at him. "But it seems to be of an older woman, Geto. Are you trying to suggest Satoru sees me as someone older than her age?"

"Maybe," he shrugs. You observe him for a moment before looking at the fast asleep boy again— dread and dejection filling every small bit of your body, slow yet so steady—

Satoru sees you as someone much older than your age. Satoru never tells you, he'll be drawing your portrait— but he has told that bastard best friend of his, everything. Said bastard best friend keeps being a hindrance, putting a spoke in your and Satoru's eons old friendship— not to mention those way too disturbing vibes he was giving off some time back— Bloody hell, Satoru also ate your ice cream up, didn't he?

"You seem to be overwhelmed with emotions, kid," the black-haired boy comments, still standing in the same place as he was, watching you attentively with hints of a smirk, "What are you planning to do?"

Honestly? You don't know. You're mad. You want Suguru to leave you two by yourselves for some time. But, you don't know how to— okay, no, wait–

Kicking something never not solves your issues... Besides, all of your friends– yeah, even this bang-haired asshole, keep themselves away whenever you and Satoru fight, so...

Stamping down the glee blooming in your heart, you throw Suguru a very unimpressed glance. "What can one ever expect me to do, eh?"

And that's the last thing you utter, before you stomp right up to your best friend, and ignoring the tiny flicker of regret, deliver a sharp and well-aimed kick to his leg— eliciting a yelp from your poor 'Toru– but, at the same time, kicking your oh-so-splendid plan of protecting your friendship, off as well.

[But, in case this plan fails? Something, the sweet half of yourself is a bit too sure, will happen— Shut the fuck up, you goody-two-shoes!!—

Simple!! You'll buy Satoru three– no, five– tubs of that Neapolitan ice cream. Offer to complete his homework, plus massage his shoulders as an apology for hitting him. And pout at him, trembling lips and big teary eyes and all that jazz, and—

Gojo Satoru will be best friends with his sweetness in no time, again!]

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

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Masterlist

Satoru calls his future S/O sweetness, but trust me when I say— Suguru's S/O will be the sweetest of them all. Stay tuned for the next oneshot in this series, my loves!!! 🥰

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