#little mix maybe but my boys are the most precious

[finexbright]

i can not stop watching that video of louis pointing at himself as if to say "my niall" the moment the interviewer mentioned niall might be here like he truly loves the boys so much they all love each other so much one band one dream one direction forever bitches

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE GREEN IN YOUR EYES MAKES ME FEEL WARM INSIDE ; MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again. 

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence. 

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow. 

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading. 

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street. 

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic. 

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself. 

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes. 

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books. 

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you. 

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now. 

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer. 

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s. 

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by. 

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat. 

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion. 

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips. 

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters. 

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight. 

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips. 

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted. 

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite. 

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him? 

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time. 

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert — 

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane. 

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!” 

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you. 

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air. 

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.” 

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same. 

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass. 

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention. 

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens. 

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells. 

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates. 

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess. 

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says. 

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave. 

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.” 

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter? 

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass. 

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there. 

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction. 

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything. 

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything. 

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust. 

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love. 

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile. 

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold. 

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

[bunmurdock]

am i the only one who finds that premature ejaculation can actually be really hot? 😔 like idk about y’all but im pretty sure matt would be the type to cum quickly and even untouched sometimes because (yk hypersenses)and i think he wouldn’t be ashamed at all cause that man is a charming slut.

but it’s not like sex with him is quick cause i’m also sure that it is really NOT. he takes his sweet time with his partners and when he wants to last longer he just pulls off to let himself breath and his partners wouldn’t even notice why he is doing that because he’s so smooth with it that it just looks like he’s teasing them, yk? he’d pull off and eat them out or slow down his rhythm or even make his partners cum quicker by sliding his hand to their clit 😵‍💫🐰

also really specific fantasy of matt eating pussy (cause he’s a munch duh) and literally cumming on his pants just from it !! </33 so when you’re getting really close and your moans get louder his do too and you don’t really get why until after your climax he lifts himself up and you see that damp spot on his boxers

BUT while his heightened senses might make him cum quicker than usual they also give him a really high sex drive like ik that man is INSANE and he definitely compenses his sexual partners (which he canonically has a lot, i love my experienced man) by getting hard again in a matter of seconds

ANYWAYS 🤕

it's so hot whimper :( i got inspired...

i can see matt murdock climaxing two minutes into you riding him in earnest, bed swaying so hard his cane clatters to the ground from where it's propped up against the headboard. he chokes and wheezes from the overstimulation. maybe you graze your nails—they can be long or short—over his chest, nipples, stomach, with just the right amount of pain mixed in with the pleasure, and he'd twitch with every marking. because hitherto all his senses were trained on you, your expressions, curves, and breaths, until you got him where he was most sensitive, most guarded. his arms would come up and seize yours on instinct. maybe you'd gently push them back over his head, leaning down to cup his precious head in your hands, kiss his nose, and whisper sweet little nothings at him. i could see him barely croaking out that he's gonna cum if you don't stop riding him, before seizing up and lifting his hips so high into yours you're raised off the bed momentarily while he empties himself into you. flips you over a while later, and shoots another load into the bedsheets like a touch-starved teenage boy from the way your cunt wags into his face while he inhales your girlmusk.

also, i've said it before, but matt murdock strikes me as someone who prefers to make love with a consistent partner over flings with strangers. most wouldn't want to hear about his personal problems or really get to know him for who he is beyond the surface. but if he was with someone he felt completely safe, perceived, and accepted around, i could see him as capable of being made to cum in thirty seconds flat, anywhere, any place. lots of silly little quickies everywhere. as long as it's with you ^—^b

masterlist | share your mm fantasies

[lilislegacy]

I actually have my own little head cannons about percy and annabeth's own family, and I'm gonna share them for no reason other than being annoying <3

Percy and Annabeth have lived in unstable homes throughout their childhood; I truly believe that they got married in their early twenties after college

Annabeth hyphenated her last name! She becomes "Annabeth Chase-Jackson" because she loves the Jacksons and is a part of their family while also keeping her last name because she's THE Annabeth chase and it's iconic

I think that they always wanted kids together, but it was always a thought for the future, even when they got married and were busy with their careers

So yes, their first kid was a total surprise, but a very happy one

They were the first of the hoo group to have a kid

Their first kid's a boy (ik unpopular opinion), with blonde hair and green eyes.

I always imagined they'd named their kids something both unique and greek, with maybe a middle name after a lost hero? Giving the first name of a lost hero sounds painful, and also defeats the whole purpose of Sally naming Percy after the only greek hero with a happy ending. An example I like is Amycus Charlie Jackson. idk tho, something more normal makes sense too.

Amycus would probably be a stereotypical angel first child tbh

Because they had their first kid so early on, I think their second would be a couple years later, I think around 4.

They'd have a girl next, Daphne Zoe Jackson, with Percy's raven hair and Annabeth's gray eyes. She'd be a little more troublesome lol, but in a loving way!

I honestly think 2 kids are good enough but my heart says they'd have 3. He'd be a surprise baby, and on the younger end of the hoo group's kids (if not the youngest). I haven't thought of much characterization for him yet, but he'd get Sally's blue eyes for sure.

And they live a great life in New York, I'm sorry but they aren't moving to New Rome! Especially Percy, he's a New Yorker through and through

Annabeth works from home from time to time as an architect, mostly to spend more time with her kids, especially when they're babies.

Percy has a pretty chill job doing something in marine biology or marine vet, so he's there for the kids plenty too

Sally babysits the few times both of them are busy

Ya that's their perfect domestic life in my head hehehe >:)

thanks for the ask @littlesillyfilly!

i love all of these!!! super cute! i shall go through each one

1. same! some people think they don’t get married, but i hate the reasons why most people think that. as demigods, percy and annabeth didn’t grow up in a stable family setting. i think they would want that stability, and to do normal stereotypical couple things, because they crave as much normalcy as they can get.

2. another vote for the hyphenated name! that seems to be people’s favorite option

3. yes absolutely. they always have wanted kids. it’s not even a question in my mind

4. i agree, for some reason i’ve always had the hc that their first kid is either a total shock, or it takes a really really long time for them get pregnant. it’s one or the other 😂

5. completed agreed. honestly? i dont even know if many of their friends would have kids. i mean, frank and hazel, together or not, probably would i think, albeit much later than percy and annabeth. but i don’t know if i see anyone else having kids. i think its not super common amongst demigods, especially greek ones

6. absolutely 1000% agreed. i have always thought and said that their first is a boy with curly blonde hair and sea green eyes.

7. agreed! i like them doing a mix of things when it comes to names. and this is so funny because i always have liked the name charlie (after beckendorf) for one of their kids! it’s in my percabeth baby names list LOL. so i think i like their second son being named charlie, and then i have a girl name for their daughter that i love.

8. oh absolutely. first babies seem to always be so precious and sweet and easy. that’s how they get you. then the second one comes and all hell breaks loose

9. i agree that their second kid would come a few years later. they would need a hot minute to adjust. having kids as a demigod would be hard i think, but once they get the hang of it, they want more!

10. i absolutely agree that their next kid has percy’s black hair and annabeth’s grey eyes! personally, i always imagined it being another boy though. he is their charlie in my mind.

11. yeah, i think they would originally plan on 2 kids, but end up having three (if not 4🤭). and in my mind, number 3 is their girl! i’ve always imagined her with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes with a bit of green in them.

12. you are team percabeth living in new york? ok ok i like it. idk personally i feel like they would start out in new rome, for safety reasons. also having a community of demigod friends and family would probably be very comforting for them. but i definitely see them ending up in new york again! percy is absolutely a new yorker through and through!

13. aww annabeth being able to work sometimes at home would be cute. i can see that!

14. can i just say im so glad people are getting on board with percy becoming an aquatic/marine vet?? i’ve always been so alone in that thought, so seeing other people like it and agree with it makes me so happy!! he’d be sooo good at it! but yes, it’s a chill job so he can be around for the kids a lot.

15. sally and paul would love babysitting. 100%

i loved all of these so much and agree with nearly everything!! thank you for these!!

[sinfullyrosey]

Peck a Pretty Rose pt. 1 (SFW)

Riddle Rosehearts X GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Teasing, Touch Starved Riddle, Angst with Comfort, Crying

I had to drag my brain, kicking and screaming, to finish writing this.

Anyways! I love this boy with every fiber of my being, even after all this time he’s still my favorite. He deserves affection. Give it to him. or I will

“What in the Great Sevens are you doing?!?!”

Your attention was turned to the quickly approaching figure of the Heartslabyul dormleader himself, Riddle Rosehearts.

His face was as red as ever, stormy gray eyes sending thorn-like glares your way as he finally reached you. While most would be cowering before the red tyrant or finding his overreaction to be annoying (like a certain redheaded first year), you simply found it to be adorable.

His little, chubby cheeks, still round with leftover baby fat, all red like the strawberries he loved so much. His short stature only making him appear even less threatening in your eyes. He reminded you of a hedgehog, cute yet prickly. How lucky you were to be dating him despite what others might question about your decision-making skills.

“Why, I’m painting the roses red of course.~” You said, oh-so nonchalantly.

He huffed, crossing his arms, eyes still focused on glaring you down.

“I can see that Prefect, but why are you painting the roses red? They are already red, as per the rules, so there’s no need-“

He paused, finally getting a good look at the rose bush next to you.

The white rose bush to be exact.

Anger flared up in the redhead once more as he began another tirade over the miscolored roses.

“Those roses aren’t red! Why aren’t the roses red?! They should be red! The rules explicitly state that the roses were to be replanted red this month! So why aren’t they red?!”

He looked to you for an explanation, hands now on his sides.

“We~ell, they were! But then I painted them white! Only to realize my mistake and started painting them red again!” You beamed.

He gave an unconvinced look.

Your smile faltered.

“Yeah, okay, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedled-Dumb planted the wrong-colored replacement roses and begged me to come over and start painting them while they fetched some more red paint. Grim was supposed to be on the lookout, but guess he bailed. Or maybe he’s napping somewhere..?” You trailed off.

Riddle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperated annoyance. Ace and Deuce, he should have known… That’s what he gets for trusting those two with the most simplest of tasks.

His deep sigh brought you out of your thoughts and he gently took the brush and palette out of your hands, setting them aside. You brushed yourself off, dusting any loose leaves and dirt off you.

“You do not need to be fixing their mistake, Prefect. You should only focus on yourself and your own tasks. I’ll see to it that they fix their own mistake.”

You saw a flicker of anger flare in his stormy eyes. A brief flash of red, like fire, before he suddenly turned on his heels and began walking off towards the garden exit.

“And make them pay the price dearly…”

Oh boy, you better do something quick before Riddle has Ace and Deuce’s heads.

Literally.

Before properly thinking your actions through, you rushed over to stand in front of him, making him stop and nearly run into you in the process. He looked taken aback, but soon glared at you.

“What-what is the meaning of this?! You can’t just get in front of someone like that-“

You silence him with a soft smile and gently took one of his hands into both of yours, cradling it like he would with one of his beloved hedgehogs.

“Riddle me this Rosehearts, how did such an adorable, little thing such as yourself end up as my precious significant other?”

Completely caught off guard, the poor boy sputtered at your statement. A mix of anger and embarrassment blooming on his cheeks. You simply continued to stare at him with that loving smile, calm and unbothered, a complete contrast to his flustered state.

“D-don’t be absurd! Now is not the time for such tomfoolery!”

You tilted your head at that.

Despite having dated for a good while now, your simple acts of affection never failed to get him worked up. Granted, you’ve never been this blunt with him, but you needed to save your friend’s (dumb)asses.

“Why? It’s true. You are adorable. So small and delicate-looking, yet somehow strong and intelligent despite your appearance. You’re like a perfect, little strawberry, just ready to be picked.~”

The intense stare you were giving him was making him feel hot and nervous, especially when you squeezed his hand in a sign of reassurance. The simple gesture caused his face to bloom even brighter and gaze to fall to the grass at his feet. His heart fluttered at the compliments, not knowing how to respond. He wanted to be angry at you calling him small but couldn’t bring himself to when your voice was full of so much adoration and praise.

“The perfect strawberry picked by me, that is.~” You cheekily added, sticking your tongue out at him.

The comment made him shoot his gaze back up at you, mild anger flaring once more.

“Hey! You can’t just-just..! Say things like that! What if someone hears?!”

He briefly looked around the garden to make sure no other student happened to stumble upon the private scene shared between you two. In that brief moment of distraction, you took the opportunity to carefully intertwine both your hands with his, preventing him from using either and fleeing.

He gasped like he was offended over such a “salacious” display. You have held hands with Riddle before, but never like this, not with both hands, and not while the two of you were alone in the garden, away from prying eyes.

And now that you had him right where you wanted, you were going to make the best of this rare moment!

“Ah, but I can my dear strawberry queen. So handsome and talented. How lucky I am to have you a~all to myself.~”

“S-stop…

“Hm, nope.~”

“I know what you’re doing!”

You shrugged, using your entwined hands, you playfully pull him closer to you, making him almost stumble from the sudden action. You moved backwards, pulling him along with you despite his protests. It took a bit of effort and force on your part, but soon you were guiding him along in a sort of jumbled, makeshift dance.

You were twirling him around, trying to keep from stepping on his feet and pissing him off in the process. His cape flowed with him as you laughed at his undignified squawks to be let go and threatening to off your head if you didn’t stop immediately. The sound reminded you of the flamingos, which you further teased him with.

“Enough! I’ve had about enough of this, Rosebud!”

At the sound of him accidentally using his petname for you, you briefly halted your actions to stare at him, meeting his equally shocked expression. He hadn’t meant to call you that, trying to remain serious, only to shrink at the beaming look you gave him.

“Aw, well aren’t you just the sweetest, Riddle.~”

You leaned towards him so that you could place a quick peck to his forehead, making him gasp and eyes widen. His hands tightened around yours at your touch, heart racing. But you didn’t give him any time to respond, too caught up in your own feelings of intense emotion.

“My little teacup.”

A kiss to his cheek.

“Cherry cheeks.”

Another kiss to his other cheek.

“Little dormouse prince.”

And another to his nose.

With every loving peck, his face grew hotter and redder, soon resembling that of one of his beloved roses. Once or twice he’d try to pull away out of sheer embarrassment, only for you to hold his hands tighter in yours, gently pulling him towards you as to draw him closer. You knew if he really wanted you to stop, he’d just use his unique magic or yell at you to cease.

He was just overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle this newfound burst of affection, so you were planning on soaking up as much of this opportunity as you could. He stuttered out your name when you pulled away, smiling brightly at him.

“Hey Riddle.”

“What now?”

“If I was a gardener, I’d plant our two-lips together.”

“Wha-“

And with that, you planted your lips against his in a deep kiss. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, completely caught off guard and not expecting you to do that of all things.

Riddle’s mind was racing with everything that was going on, emotions hazy and struggling to grasp what lead him up to this moment. Alone, in the Heartslabyul garden with you, sharing his very first kiss. A preposterous notion that his old self would be reeling over, surely.

Riddle never imagined himself in such a situation like this. His whole life, he had been working to be the best that he could be, the best his mother expected him to be. Day in and day out, studying and focusing on his academics, never allowed to step foot outside, to feel the warmth of the Sun on his skin and the sweetness of sugar on his lips.

To just stop, for once, and smell those damn roses he so painstakingly took care of so that they could grow and blossom by his own hands.

At first, he was hesitant to allow it to go this far, especially after the recent heated argument with his mother. He felt it somehow disrespectful towards her, despite his newfound mixed feelings towards the strict woman who did this to him, who caused him to fall so hard.

When did he find himself falling so far down into this rabbit hole, chasing the forbidden white rabbit that was you? How did you manage to draw him in with the promise of sweetness that had him feeling so big, yet so small? These maddening emotions, blurred with red hearts and white roses, filling up his head with colored smoke that had him repeating words he never thought he’d say.

How could you have taken this wilting, black-stained rose, encased in nothing but sharp thorns, and made it bloom once more?

His thoughts continued to spiral, even long after you’d ended the kiss.

“Riddle?”

Your voice called softly, but he didn’t answer.

“Riddle.”

He still didn’t respond.

He was finally pulled from his thoughts when he suddenly felt the presence of something on his face. Something soft and familiar wiping at his cheeks, just below his eyes.

“Riddle, you’re crying.”

His slate blue eyes refocus, gazing into your own, worried ones. He blinks at you, still reeling through his emotions.

“What? I’m what??”

With his free hand, he reached up to feel his face, gathering a few stray tears from his cheek and looking at them in bewilderment. He was crying? When was he crying?? He didn’t even know he had been crying, and couldn’t seem to stop, feeling more warm droplets run down his face and drip from his chin.

He was unable to stop more tears from falling. It seemed the more he tried to blink back, the more would flow, painting his cheeks and lashes in a clear, silvery hue. He sniffled, growing frustrated at the mess he was making of himself, and in front of you, no less.

Why couldn’t he stop? Why did the tears keep coming? He hasn’t cried so openly since his overblot, and had promised to keep it that way. So, why was he now falling apart all over again?! The thought only caused more salty, hot tears to gather at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill and blur his vision further.

“Oh Riddle…”

Your soothing voice cooed, both hands cupping either of his cheeks to cradle them in your palms. His own hands could only grasp onto your wrists for support, while your thumbs gently rubbed underneath his eyes.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s alright. Just let it all out, okay?”

He couldn’t answer, only weakly nod while you worked to clean his face up and give soft words of affirmation. The whole thing was embarrassing; crying over something so, so, trivial..! It was all rather silly now that Riddle had the chance to calm down a bit. What would his dormmates think of him if they saw him like this? He needs to get himself together this instant.

“It’s okay to cry when things get to be too much. It’s not good to bottle it all up.”

You chirp, giving a peck to his still heated cheek, then another to his other cheek. His previous flustered state returned once more as you began peppering his face in kisses, paying special attention to his now red, puffy eyes. You were careful to plant light kisses on his eyelids, making him flush even more.

All the attention was making him hiccup, trying to clear his throat to speak normally again to get you to stop already.

You moved your attention down lower, kissing at his neck to elicit a few stifled giggles from him. He was just so ticklish there; you just couldn’t help yourself!

He let out a squeak at a particular spot, prompting you to blow a little raspberry there. His soft laughter rang all throughout the Heartslabyul garden, making him push you away to make it stop and end this little game already.

“S-stop, that’s quite enough! Rosebud, please! If any of the others see me like this, then it’s off with your head!” He scolded, catching his breath.

You decided to finally let up, having pushed his boundaries far enough. The poor boy has gone through enough emotional turmoil; his brain is probably completely topsy-turvy by now, unable to tell top from bottom. And besides…

It’s probably best that the two of you left the garden and got him properly cleaned up in his dorm room. Ace and Deuce were supposed to be back here forever ago and still haven’t made a return, meaning they probably got sidetracked elsewhere and got into even more trouble. Any minute they could return, bringing their trouble with them, right into the line of Riddle’s volatile wrath.

That, or they completely ditched you to deal with the dormhead in their stead. Regardless, you don’t want to imagine what would happen to Ace if he saw Riddle in his current state and opened that big, dumb mouth of his.

You shook your head of the thought and instead focused on the short, redhead next to you. Smiling at him, you gently took one of his hands in your own, making him look at you suspiciously. You chuckled and assured him you weren’t up to anything and merely suggested walking him back to his room to help him freshen up and relax.

He narrowed his eyes at you before sighing and relenting. He intertwined his fingers with yours, leading the way to the garden exist once more. You followed along obediently, occasionally swinging your entwined hands playfully. Riddle shook his head at your childishness but gave a fond smile.

[riddles-fiddles]

hello asdfgsjdldkl this is a half fluffy half spicy request, how would you feel about writing a fem/gn mc who is autistic, but here’s the twist (lol)—their special interest is kink/bdsm? maybe they’re a bit shy about it at first since it’s not exactly something you just TALK about but one day they somehow end up infodumping? with Lilia, Idia, Vil, and Malleus, if that’s okay? (bonus points for mc being a sub ghjkslahsksl) (also if you’re not sure about how to write an autistic mc that’s totally fine, thank you for your service /gen ajshsjskdkl)

I tried to write this based on how my ADHD brain works with my special interests, so I hope this isn't as terrible lol also since you didn't say which kinks you'd like to see, I kept them a little bit more on the generalized side. If you'd like something more specific you can request again. Anyways thank you kindly for this lovely request, I had lots of fun writing it /gen <3

Synopsis: the boys are very intriguided to know about your secret special interest~ Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge Tags: NSFW, smut with context, bondage play, master/servant, power play, spanking/impact play Notes: gender neutral reader (unspecified body parts), everyone is 18+, excuse any grammatical errors,,,

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Vil looks down on you with an amused expression as you moan and buck your hips up, searching for the friction you so desesperately need from his hands. You were pressed against the couch with your wrists firmly tied up on your back and your legs held apart by the leather belts, your dripping arousal entirely exposed and unable to wiggle too much, keeping you on the edge of your climax as you relied on Vil's painfully slow and light touches. It all started from one of Vil's fashion jobs. Being one of Twisted Wonderland's most beloved supermodels, he was offered to take a catwalk under the name of a high-end brand trying to test a new niche of clothing and creative display: a mix of kinky props and everyday clothing, with emphasis on office attire.

Vil looks absolutely dazzling on his violet blue formal shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbows to expose the shoulder-lenght latex gloves. A black leather chest harness hugs his figure perfectly, highlighting his curves and accentuating his proportions, his clothing, paired with the sensual makeup, gave him a rather imposing, bossy feel - the perfect face of a dangerous temptation, especially for you.

So much you can't help but unload all the little details about harness fashion you know about, about how they can be used to better pick on certain body parts, how they can be used for bondage and how you would love to try some on-

"Hush now, my precious nightingale. I love it when you sing for me like that, but…" He coos softly, his breath tickling against the hot skin of your cheek as his fingers came to press against your lips, gently nudging them open; a taunt and a promise of something more to come. "…I would hate it if the agency's staff came into my dressing room to find you like this."

Your eyes widen, suddenly remebering that anybody could walk in on any second, curious about the amount of noise coming out of Vil's room. As you slowly part your lips to welcome his gloved fingers, you hear a low chuckle of satisfaction coming. "Good puppy," Vil's whisper melts on your ears like dripping honey as his fingers make their way between uour teeth, playing with your tongue. "You deserve a reward for being so well behaved."

"Y-you feel so g-good, darling…" Idia groans in contentment before slamming his cock deep inside you once more. A shaky, devilish laugh rolls off his tongue as he watches the way you struggle to keep you hand steady, trying your best to pour some tea without allowing even the tiniest drop to stain the sheets.

Idia was the one trying to suggest new things for you two to try out - on his own nerdy, embarrassed ways. He was too scared to openly admit his kinks, thinking that maybe you could find him a weirdo, so he would casually comment about something like he was just talking about the news, or even pointing out something unusual on a character from some anime.

However, Idia soon discovered about the hype of cat maid cafés, and as he 'innocently' showed you some of the recipes and how you could pick your maid's personality, he was surprised to see how it had sparked your interest, his face going alight as you passionately unravel about your love for cute maid outfits and how you do own one. Idia wasn't one to make bold moves, but that was just too good of an opportunity to let it slip away from his fingers, so he lightly suggests to see you with it…

And now you found yourself full-on roleplaying. Taking in the role of a humble, diligent maid to your master, you faced multiple challenges as Idia reveled on your misery, trying to keep yourself composed while serving him.

Idia's fingernails dig on your hips, pulling down on the black skirt as he bucks up against you, low gasps leaving his lips. You need to bite down on your lips to contain a curse, holding onto the teacup between your hands for dear life. "So cute and obedient…" You shiver at his praise, his voice laced with dark desire, pushing you down on his lap.

You are surprised by his hand possessively wrapping around your chin, forcing your face to turn to him. Before you can mouth any sound, he captures your lips, making your grip finally falter, droplets of tea splasing over Idia's legs.

"Oh no, seems like you've made a mess… better clean it up quick if you don't wanna be punished, huh?" He smirks with mischief, his pointy teeth grazing over your shoulder threateningly.

You shudder in antecipation under Malleus' firm grip around the back of your neck, pushing your face down into the sheets. His throaty growl lingers over your body, leaving goosebumps under your skin. "Mine," Malleus rasps, his teeth sinking down on your back, leaving behind a perfect mark. "And I'll make sure everyone knows who you belong to." Malleus is very curious regarding everything that involves human nature, entertained by even the simplest of things. It wasn't uncommon to find him nose deep inside books, drinking in the particularities of the ones so exquisite for his fae standards.

While spending the afternoon with you in Ramshackle Dorm, quietly fidgeting through your phones and simply enjoying each other's company, he accidentally looked over your smartphone right in time to catch you scrolling down on a Magicam post about 'power play'. His interest is immediately piqued, intrigued by whatever it meant; Malleus points it out, interested to know more about it, and as you eagerly explains what it means, Malleus nods and hums in understanding, his mind working out on this new discovery.

"That's a very exquisite concept. Tell me, Child of Man, would you be willing to give me a practical demonstration on the matter? I'm certain I could understand it better this way."

You tried to keep Malleus pinned down on the bed, your hands firmly wrapping around his wrists to keep him still. Your attempt in dominance only the Fae Prince, who effortlessly turned you to lay on your belly, restraining you by the arms. "Looks like I am the winner of this little dispute. Shall I indulge in my prize now?"

"Easy now, sugar bat. If you tense up too much, it will hurt even more." A low chuckle rolls off Lilia's tongue, mischief mixed with tenderness etched on his cherry-coloured eyes. The paddle on his hand slowly runs over your warmed thighs, the sensitive skin shivering and squirming under the rough leather feel, teasing and threatening to strike once more.

"Back in my day, those devices were used as torture tools to coax prisoners into talking about their secrets. Now, they are used in intimate rendezvous to give pleasure induced by pain." Lilia giggles, an innocent smile gracing his lips - a very fake one. The glint on his eyes suggesting some sly, hidden interest, like he wasn't just silently reading the fanfiction you were writing on your phone.

"So, you're interested on the complexities of pain and pleasure, huh? Would you like to indulge in a demonstration? I'll be more than happy to lead you into this forbidden experience, my dear." How could you deny such a confident, tantalizing suggestion? You knew a lot about the theoretical thing, having read a lot about fiction or even health-related articles about BDSM and impact play. Despite being shy about it, you knew you could trust Lilia.

"You're doing very well, sweetheart," Lilia's whisper is sweet and reassuring as his fingers gently thread between your locks, a soothing gesture in contrast to the dry impact of the paddle against your buttcheeks, marking the skin with a pinkish colour. The leather leaves a stinging sensation, making you gasp and squirm over Lilia's lap. He leans in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Only ten more to go."

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

You want the bad guy.

Phillip Graves x Fem Reader.

You're at a very private and elegant party, but you're bored, looking at everybody until a certain guest comes to make you change your opinion about this evening.

Warning: maybe some violence, grammatical and spelling errors. 📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Your boyfriend insisted you need to attend this event, his family is very famous, he will be the next one to own the familiar company so he's trying to prove he's capable of handling the responsibilities.

It has been a long evening, you're wearing a long light rose dress and high heels, walking around the saloon, smiling graciously, trying to memorize as many names as possible, your feet hurt a lot but you're trying your best to support your boyfriend, but you really need fresh air, you delicately squeezed your boy's arm to not interrupt his conversation with some stranger.

- Honey, I think I need some fresh air.

- Oh, yes, Go ahead darling, anyway I was telling you...

You sighed and walked to the closest window, a waitress with a tray full of champagne glass cups offered you one that you instantly accepted.

The fresh air is helping you a lot, it's a warm spring evening to wear that stupid dress, but your boyfriend insisted, you would rather be at home or Walking at the beach than here.

Breathe in, breathe out, eyes closed, just you and the fresh air on your face and the taste of champagne on your lips.

- Good evening... Pardon me, young lady, Do you mind if I join you? I just need some air, it's too warm here.

You didn't open your eyes just nodded.

-Are you someone's date or simply another guest?

You sighed, goodbye to your peaceful moment, you opened your eyes and looked in the direction where the voice came from.

- I'm...

Woah, who is this man, you haven't seen him before in these parties, definitely a new face, he's a very attractive stranger, wearing grey smoking, black shoes, no tie, the perfect mix between elegant and casual enough for an event like this. You didn't respond, you were too busy staring at him, from head to toe.

- Is everything ok? Do you like the view?

- all good, sorry, I'm y/n, it's just... I have never seen you before Mr.?

- Graves, Phillip Graves. You have a beautiful name, Y/n.

- Thank you so much, Sir.

- Oh there's no need for such formalities, feel free to call me by my name.

You were going to say something else until your boyfriend's voice joined the conversation. His arm around your waist, he never grabbed you so tight before.

- Graves. What are you doing here?

- Connor, I'm a guest at this event, your parents were too kind to invite me.

Your boyfriend smiled falsely at him.

- I see, well, I suppose you already met my Girlfriend.

- For sure, the most precious lady of the night.

- Y/n, Graves works for the army, killing people for money, a very fancy job.

He was trying to make Graves uncomfortable, such a pathetic try. Graves smiled kindly at both of you.

- Every person has his own opinion about his job Connor, for example, you say I'm just a murderer but in my opinion, while you're just posing for magazines saying you're the future of your parent's company and organizing these stupid events, I risk my life to make the world better or at least to make my own world better.

Your boyfriend's blood was boiling. Graves was savouring his little victory.

- oh well, you're totally right man, I guess everything is about perspective. Did you come alone or is there someone accompanying you?

- I'm alone at the moment, maybe by the end of the night I will go home with a beautiful woman walking by my side.

He looked directly at you, You blushed and smiled at him, your boyfriend looked at you and kissed your cheek.

- Well, I wish you luck with that, we still have some other guests to attend, enjoy the evening.

- it was a pleasure to meet you Graves.

- Pleasure was all mine my dear.

Your boyfriend literally dragged you with him, he was angry, both walked were his parents where.

- Can you explain to me what he is doing here?

- Connor, leave the past behind, he's a gentleman and also one of our most important investors now. We need him to be happy.

You don't understand why he's so mad but you wouldn't ask, he looked at you with dead eyes and held your forearm, hard enough to leave a mark, both walked out of the saloon.

- What did he say to you?

- Nothing, he just introduced himself.

- Don't you dare to lie to me Y/n...

- Ouch! You're hurting me, babe, leave my arm. I swear he didn't say anything else.

He finally loosened your arm, he didn't even apologize, he just fixed his tie and hair, looking at his reflection in a window.

- Let's go back inside, don't you dare to leave my side, I don't want you to be alone with him...

He noticed some tears on your face, he sometimes acts too violent with you.

- Don't cry y/n you will ruin your make-up! Don't make me more angry huh, you don't want to make me mad, Don't you?

You just neglected with the head.

-Fine, you have 5 minutes to recover.

he walked inside and you stayed there, fixing your makeup, hair and went back to the party, once there you stayed behind him all night, feeling Graves eyes on you, he was observing every curve of your body, your face, your lips, the deep neckline of your dress, you're not uncomfortable, there's something about the way he looks at you that makes everything more... Enjoyable. Maybe you couldn't be close to him, but your boyfriend never said anything about flirting.

You were walking around in a very seductive and slow catwalk, the way you're holding your glass, the way you bite a chocolate covered strawberry, how some juice of the fruit is running through your lips, it's too much, Graves couldn't be away from you anymore, you weren't intending to make him approach you, you were simply enjoying the attention he was giving you.

- Connor, your girlfriend looks a little bit bored here, will you allow her to dance with me?

Your boyfriend's face was in flames, he couldn't be rude and said no in front of the group of people who he was talking to, so he simply nodded.

Graves didn't waste time, he took your hand softly and guided you to the dance floor, once there, his hand was now resting on your waist, your bodies were too close, you were avoiding his eyes, just enjoying the slow music on the background.

- What's wrong little one, you've been flirting all night and now you're too quiet and distant.

- We shouldn't be doing this. He's not happy.

- Why not? It's just a dance darling.

- Why does he hate you?

- Your boyfriend is a jerk, during our teenage years we were like friends and enemies, always competing. I'm clearly better than him tho.

- Are you? How can you be so sure?

- I'm sure I am, just to start to compare us. I wouldn't hurt such a beauty like you, don't think I didn't notice your forearm, or your eyes. You cried. He's too idiot, not good enough for you.

You were going to leave, but he made you spin and then captured you between his arms once more and whispered in your ear.

- Y/n, I'm sure I'm not wrong, you want adventures, adrenaline, passion, love, you want the kind of man who would burn the entire world just to see you smile. And Connor... Well, he's nothing like that.

You stayed in silence, you know he's right, your boyfriend possesses money and luxury but he's certainly not the man you believed he was.

You always dreamt of the kind of man who would protect you as if you were the most delicate and precious diamond, the bad guy who would kill for you, die for you, he would risk all he has, just for you. That's what you wanted. What if Graves is this man? Before you could say something the song was over, Phillip and you went back to where your boyfriend was.

- Thank you Connor, she's a gem.

He shook his hand with your boyfriend and before leaving, he looked back at you.

- Oh! And Y/n, think about what I said, ok?

The night continued peacefully, so peacefully that it scared you. You and your boyfriend were saying goodbye to some guests, both were out of the saloon once again, you started to walk inside when your boyfriend pulled you by the hair and crashed you against a wall.

- Do you think I'm playing or that I'm stupid enough to not notice how you've been offering yourself to that cunt, huh?!

- Baby, you're hurting me, stop, please, I don't know what you're talking about.

- You don't know? I'll make sure you know what I'm talking about.

He was going to hit you, but before he could have slapped you, Graves stopped him.

- if I were you, I would leave the lady in peace, unless you want a broken arm... Or a bullet in your head. Maybe your girl can decide that, don't you think?

Graves was twisting your boyfriend's arm, making him almost crying in pain.

- Y/n... make him stop. Baby, help me.

You looked at Graves and then your boyfriend, there's no fear in your eyes this time, Graves was right, your boyfriend is just an idiot. He doesn't deserve someone like you, he's not what you want.

- Phillip... Leave him, Please.

He did what you said, he let him free. You looked at your boyfriend and simply said «we're done, I'm leaving you», you walked to Grave's side and took his hand. Both turned out and started to walk, when you heard the distinguish sound of a gun's lock.

Your boyfriend was pointing at you, he wasn't right with the idea of losing, and losing you, was frustrating enough.

The sound of a gun shooting was heard in the parking lot and close to the principal door of the saloon was a man's body.

- I warned you to not hurt her or I would make you pay for it.

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 13.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: flashback three - a look at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, then finally - your eighteenth birthday, when everything changes

Warnings: depictions of violence, sparring, furlan is my baby boy, isabel is my light, alcohol, partying, mention of vomiting (doesn't happen), hurt/comfort, pinning, sensual themes, levi's in deep shit now

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 13 - FLASHBACK: THREE

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. they are my interpretations of the material. please watch those episode first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

“All those years of street fighting and that’s the best you got?”

“Oh shut up, Ackerman.”

You’re getting pretty sick of tasting an invasion of dirt in your mouth every time Levi Ackerman harshly slams you into the ground, demanding surrender. Forget seeing stars — you’re mapping constellations every time you go toe-to-toe in his sparring sessions.

Whether it’s from a sweep of your legs, an arm popping behind your back, a head-butt out of a grapple, this hurts.

Yet you still show up during downtime anyway.

Maybe the years of running recklessly with Furlan’s crew has helped you lose a couple of brain cells along the way.

.

.

.

.

Fifteen comes and goes in a flash.

That first night, the choice to escape the clutches of your adoptive keeper, was met with little to no thought.

Levi held out his hand to you, and you chose to never look back.

When you arrived at Levi's apartment, you're surprised to find an unassuming apartment with a set of stairs leading to the second floor where he lives with Furlan Church. You carried burdensome baggage through the building’s threshold, as the only things you had to your name were the clothes on your back and the bruising on your skin.

Eventually the bruises lightened, and Levi keeps his promise:

No one comes after you.

No one dares — not when you were under his wing.

Much to your surprise, Furlan Church was excited for your arrival. Thrilled, even, that Levi could get you to agree to joining their budding heist team.

When you first stepped into the apartment, you were greeted with the presence of a lanky boy sporting a lopsided smile and soft, spiky ash-blonde still wet from an evening shower. He wore similar clothes to Levi: a button-down hung wide open to display his chest and slacks a little too big for his frame.

Furlan was so much different than what the streets claimed he was: most suggested he was cunning and angry, a force to be reckoned with, but what stood in front of you that night was simply a teenager just like you looking to change the hand that starves him.

While bringing someone else into the mix meant the apartment lost a little space, it was more comfortable than anything you had ever experienced in your life.

They gave you your own room. A bed to sleep on. A small dresser for the possessions you don’t own. Towels. Food in your belly.

Given his smaller frame, you were forced to rely on Levi’s old clothes until you were able to find — more like steal — threads of your own. The only gotcha was the promise to keep them clean, neat, pressed and folded.

He wouldn’t let you abuse what little he owned, and you learned quickly just how much of a clean freak this mirage of a boy really was.

Spotless. Pristine. Scrubbing here, sweeping there—

Every day and every night.

And you were expected to contribute, so you did.

For weeks the three of you coexisted under the same roof.

Furlan was funny. Levi won every card game.

It felt like your own version of family.

(Something that wasn’t twisted, gnarled, from darkness.)

After some time had passed, the boys would finally let you in on their most precious secret:

The reason Levi Ackerman and Furlan Church were so successful in comparison to the other gangs floating around this godforsaken city.

“So it’s true.”

You sit on the dilapidated couch while you watch Levi clean the nooks and crannies of the boxy silver gear lying on the table.

Furlan beams on the opposite end of the table, arm lazily draped against its surface.

“Ch’yeah. Kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

Omni-directional Mobile Gear.

The shit you can only get from the military.

Your brows knit with curiosity. “How’d you manage that?”

“Ha — it wasn’t easy,” Furlan tells you, re-crossing his legs. “Took weeks to plan.”

“And you know how to use it?” you ask, but it’s not to him.

Levi never pauses his motions, but his eyes flicker up when he detects your vocal direction. “Well enough,” the dark-haired boy provides. “If the pigs can learn how to use it on the surface, then it wouldn’t be so hard to teach ourselves.”

“Damn…”

Leaning over, your forearms press hard into the tops of your thighs.

“When people said they thought they saw some of our own zipping around the Underground, I thought they were maybe drinking from sewage.”

“Sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner,” Furlan laments, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s nothing against you—”

“But it’s a big secret,” you finish for him, nodding in understanding. “I get it. It was smart.”

“And now we’ll teach you.”

Furlan glances to his left when Levi speaks with certainty.

Levi takes a minute longer to linger his eyes on you before going back to the gear. He continues to address you.

“We needed a fighter who knows how to stay on their feet.”

“Ah, so that’s why you got the shit beat out of me — to see if I can handle ODM gear?” you ask sarcastically, directing your gaze to Furlan. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“What? It was only fair, code is code. I couldn’t give you special treatment!” Furlan yelps. “C’mon, just because Levi endorsed you—”

“Oi,” Levi interrupts, narrowing his eyes to the other boy.

You slowly grin. “Endorsed? This is news to me.”

“Drop it,” Levi warns.

“Dropped,” Furlan promises.

You want to keep pushing, but instead you stand to your feet and walk to the table where the stolen ODM gear lay.

You run a finger over a metallic edge, noting just how hefty the equipment must actually be.

“What’s so tough about this shit, anyway?”

“Well, it’s…” Furlan starts to speak up, but he grimaces with an unspoken apology. The two exchange looks, both in the know — and you’ll soon be, too. “A little jerky.”

“In what way?”

“As in you have to use your core and keep your balance. It’s harder than it looks.”

Furlan’s not fucking kidding.

Your first attempt at harnessing into ODM gear is rough. Wall into wall into wall — the recovering shiner on your forehead now sports fresh purples and blues in the second try; the third, the fourth.

Levi uses the equipment seamlessly, flying around the cavernous walls of this hellscape like it’s a natural gift.

Furlan’s just about as good, consistently leaving you in the dust.

Day in and day out you follow their instructions and practice until every muscle is sore in your body; until the feel of the equipment on your hips, in your hands is an extension of yourself; until things just click.

Zipping from buildings, increasing velocity, landing on your two feet.

It brings you that much closer to a power so few Underground City citizens possess.

Little by little, you learn about the mirage of a boy with your life in his hands. Levi Ackerman is a fully actualized person, with quirks and aspirations and feelings — though you’d be hard pressed to know them yourself, as he keeps everything close to the vest.

He is stoic, calm in even the worst situations, and particular. He fights with clean brutality. You eventually find out that the man who trained Levi wasn’t his father, but Kenny the Ripper — a boogeyman you and your siblings had heard about in passing without fully realizing you’d ever crossed paths.

None of the scary stories about Kenny the Ripper involved a ward in his possession, so Levi is just as much of a ghost as you are.

Although the story of his upbringing passes through blurred lines and inferred details, you come to learn that most — if not all — of Levi’s swift tricks are passed down through meticulous training and trials by Kenny himself.

(No wonder he’s so ruthless.)

After a few weeks, Levi’s willing to show you some of his best hand-to-hand tricks himself.

Although you two possess completely different fighting styles — one erratic, the other calculated — it culminates and meshes somewhere in the middle, where ferocity and strategy marry.

Fighting becomes fun, whether either of you admit it or not.

A stress release after a long day.

A constant in an eternal night.

You never ask how Kenny taking him under his wing came to pass, but he never asks about your history with Mother, either.

It’s better that way. Not talking about it dissolves the impact Mother had on your life.

It lessens both of your former guardians authority.

(As for Mother, she never tries to find you. Even when you walk the old paths where street fights continue, you never see her face in passing. Rumors spread that her drinking problem got the best of her. You imagine Levi has something to do with her expiration, whether he'll ever admit it or not.)

Petty theft, money heists, intimidation — you rack up the offenses against your name and double the notoriety of your trio.

The citizens of the Underground look twice when you walk by. They never once try to touch or attack you again.

Church, Ackerman, James.

Always together. Always in sync.

It’s paradise.

.

.

.

.

  Sixteen is a slow burn.

Complicated heists mean complicated teams, and Furlan puts himself in charge of divvying up the goods while Levi investigates potential candidates. A team of two turns into three, three turns into four, and soon enough there is a network of reliable bodies willing to lay their lives on the line for a chance to work with the three of you.

Sometimes the job requires Levi to leave for days, but he makes it a point to come back to this cramped apartment with bags full of food and goodies for your hard-working gang.

(You’ve noticed he is particular about smuggling tea back home, particularly the leaves only available to purchase on the surface. It’s ballsy, but he gets it done.)

In a strange way, you miss when he’s away.

And when he's away, it's usually just you and Furlan — until it isn't.

Because Isabel Magnolia, a short and spunky ginger-haired menace, becomes an unexpected fourth addition in the leadership squad.

In a testosterone-fueled household, the younger woman is a breath of fresh air for you. Idealistic, brave, and bold above all else — Levi and Furlan stumbled into her while she was in the midst of an escape from Military Police.

Something about making unauthorized trips to the city stairwell, illegally ignoring the tolls to do some of the most ludicrous shit that only a teenager would do.

Like save baby birds from the surface, as if they’d somehow survive down in the Underground.

(That bird did. Furlan swears it’s the magic of Isabel’s optimism.)

Isabel ends up sleeping in your room in a makeshift cot on the floor, squawking your ear off in excitement to the point of a headache.

Still, it’s nice to have company, especially when the boys are recruiting or completing deals.

The four of you as a unit feels right. By now you’ve come to appreciate Furlan’s jokes, admire Levi’s seriousness, partake in Isabel’s dreams; they’ve each played a part in cracking your own hardened shell, shaping you into this —

Not the James your Mother created, but the James your friends accepted.

You’ve even told them your first name, the real name you were born with. They keep that name like a sacred oath, something special those three (and only those three) can say. It becomes something of a last name for you, something to be respected. The rest of the gang know you solely as James, yet you've grown to no longer loathe being called such.

(Not when it’s on their lips.)

And you like her — this person named James.

You like that she’s capable of being reliable to a team of people with their own strengths.

You like that Isabel gives her hope in the middle of her babbles at the stroke of midnight.

You like that Furlan discovers what her real laugh sounds like — straight from her belly and up to her chest — and it’s loud and obnoxious and genuine.

The sound even gets Levi to crack, if only for a twitch at the corner of his lips.

Shit.

Levi.

You like that he’s particular with his teas and trusts you enough to share the reasons why.

You like that he puts his hands on your hips when you’re practicing ODM gear.

You like that he isn’t afraid to touch your sweat-matted hair after a spar to tuck it behind your ear, like you’re nothing dirty to him.

And you realize the James you’re becoming will do just about anything Levi Ackerman asks.

.

.

.

.

  Seventeen is complicated.

Messy is a better word — Yinter’s massive fuck-up on the South Region heist puts a halt on any and all jobs for the rest of the year.

One of the newest recruits, Yinter, panicked in the midst of his attempt at robbery, causing the rest of his squad to almost get caught by meandering Military Police.

Cleaning up the tracks of an inexperienced team took several weeks of tireless labor and moving supplies around, but the gang managed.

What once ran as a worried whisper in the Underground is now loud and on the tips of the MPs tongues, placing a target on the backs of four cocky teenagers leading the charge.

All of you should have known navigating the crime world by the skin of your teeth was risky.

At the beginning, the idea of a lawless gang was beautiful.

However, Furlan’s a little more of a dreamer in the sense that he sees the unattainable and runs with it. Sometimes his head is so far up his ass that he thinks none of this will blow back onto any of you.

Maybe it can damage some of the runts, sure, but he thinks leadership’s plans and aspirations are fool proof.

You disagree. Loudly.

Now you’re certain Furlan’s sometimes pissed that Levi ever suggested they recruit you with your constant pushback of his ideas. Levi never seems to express any doubt towards you, but that doesn’t stop him from being the Devil’s Advocate thorn in your side.

Sometimes you and Levi Ackerman bicker.

Sometimes it's a lot of bickering — about the little things like team preferences and heist plans, times and locations.

Yet more often than not, the two of you always land in the same archaic loop: fist-to-fist sparring, taking out your frustrations in the most natural way you know how. Ducking and dodging until your tempers simmer and you run out steam.

Until frustration turns into playful, heated banter.

A secret language for two.

(You'll never stop fighting, you realize too little too late, but neither will he.)

You kick and you punch and you watch Levi slam you into the ground again and again and again — the scrawny teenager always ends up on top of you, wrists pinned to your head, declaring your surrender.

Glare to glare, out of breath and spent, the fight ends when you burst into laughter from how scrunched his nose gets when he’s hell bent on winning.

It used to be funny.

Yet with each passing week, each dying month, warmth surges through your belly when he pins you down.

It would be easy, you think, to do something stupid.

You can’t afford to be the stupid one of the group.

.

.

.

.

  Last week marked your eighteenth birthday.

A party is reckless, but Furlan wants to celebrate something after the Yinter accident with the spoils of the last successful heist: booze, food, rationed cigarettes, the works.

You aren’t naïve to what partying means, even if you’ve never partaken in the act yourself. The Underground is full of red-light districts if you know where to look: people piss away their money to eliminate their troubles in the arms of others, in the bottle of a stolen vintage whiskey, in the spices that can ascend far past the surface into somewhere better.

Levi is sorely against the idea.

Furlan, for once, pulls seniority.

Which leads to why Levi’s so damn determined to kick your ass right now — if he can’t vocalize how annoyed he is, then he sure as hell will exert enough energy to pass out before the event even starts.

“All those years of street fighting and that’s the best you got?”

“Oh shut up, Ackerman.”

A nonchalant boot digs into your side, bringing you back to the Underground.

“Get up.”

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

It’s enough of a distraction to earn yourself much-needed time to reset and win.

Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg. Levi makes a noise of surprise as he’s airborne, only to crash beside you in a nasty thud.

You crawl up the young man's body to press your arm into his windpipe, daring him to fight back. Your knees cradle his hips, trapping him beneath.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, gritting his teeth, but it doesn’t feel as if he’s trying to escape very fast.

(A phrase he's picked up from you like a bad habit.)

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever.

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re particularly moody.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position.

Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. "Thought we didn’t do draws."

“I don’t wanna look like shit before the party, so I’m calling a draw.”

“So you’re admitting I was winning?”

You roll your eyes into the back of your head, swatting his hand from yours. Levi uses the momentum to prop himself up with his palms behind him, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. You stay with your legs folded like a pretzel, hands idle in your lap.

“I’ve never drank before,” you murmur with an excited melody to your tone.

Levi grimaces. “It’s disgusting.”

“I won’t know until I try, right?”

“Can’t you take my word for it?”

“But your taste is so awful.”

It’s a lie, but the immediate scowl sent your way is worth the dramatics. You smile it off.

“I mean, Furlan seems to think it’s fun.”

“Furlan is a dumbass,” Levi replies. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I do, but I still want to at least try it. If I hate it, then you can tell me I told you so. Deal?”

“And if you love it, then that means I’m on babysitting duty.”

"Babysitting?”

“Yeah. I don’t need your drunk ass fighting new recruits.” His scowl deepens. “Or ruining the fucking furniture if you get sick.”

“So pessimistic,” you tease. “Levi, you don’t have to take care of me.”

The conversation dissipates.

Levi keeps his eyes on you for a second longer before turning a chin to stare straight ahead.

You continue to watch him, taking in the sharpness of his nose on his profile.

At nineteen years old, he’s grown into his once sullen face with high cheekbones and a sharp chin. His thin arms are toned under the white button-up he sports, torso cinched by the auburn vest. His fingers have small cuts, but they’re slender. Strong.

You see the way girls look at him when he passes.

He never seems to notice.

.

.

.

.

      “Ja-haaaames!”

A shrill and slurred attempt at your last name brings you back to the rowdiness of the room.

Despite Levi’s best efforts, the party goes without a hitch. A dozen, maybe two, have shown up to enjoy the spoils stolen by the Military Police: at least a crate of wine, a few half-polished bottles of whiskey, and a multitude of cigarette cartons pass through the hands of the hard-working legion that made it happen.

The lack of food in this area makes it easy for people to get sloppy on next to nothing. Within a shot or two — cheered to your name, as if eighteen years of your life in the Underground mean anything at all — half of the crew is loud and rowdy.

Laughing.

Horsing around.

Kissing.

You don’t remember when it is you dissociated from the noise, but it’s Isabel’s voice that guides you back to this cramped little apartment full of people.

“Hello, welcome back,” she greets with a giggle, handing over a tiny medicine cup of a clear liquid. “You’re out, and I need you to be on my level.”

Except you are on her level — where Isabel gets louder and more rambunctious on alcohol, you’ve become quiet, contemplative. You haven’t been able to feel your nose in at least an hour. Everything is warm, deliciously so, and your muscles don’t ache like they usually do.

“Should you even be drinking that stuff, Isa?”

“What, this? Yeah, I’m good.”

“But you’re only—”

“What do ya think about the party so far? Here.” Interrupting her own question, she places the tiny cup in your hand and taps it with her own. “Cheers to you, oh fearless one.”

“Oh stop,” you moan, taking the tiny shot with ease.

The first shot almost made you spit up the drink before it could pass down your throat. The second you forced down, clenching your teeth to air out the burn on your tongue.

Furlan was right: it gets easier every time.

“How many is that?” Isabel asks, flopping back at the wall you lean against.

“Four. Five. I don’t know, I lost count,” you answer honestly, peering down at the empty cup with scrutiny. “I feel like this is going to bite me in the ass.”

Isabel cackles, bumping her shoulder with yours. “That day is not today! C’mon, sis, don’t hide. We already have a party pooper, so you can not join Levi.”

“Levi?” you ask, blinking over to her. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Exactly. Bro’s avoiding everyone like a scaredy cat. God… Levi and James. James and Levi.” Isabel groans into her cup, sipping in contemplation. You already hate where this might be going. “That’s a topic I have wanted to—” She hiccups, taking your medicine cup. “—bring up for a while now.”

If you weren’t so preoccupied at the sound of Levi’s name, then perhaps you’d have sobered up from the neon red sign telling you to avoid this conversation at all costs.

Isabel talks over the volume of the room.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” you repeat.

“You’re going to make me say it?” For a second, your blood returns to your body. It’s spiked with an anxiety you cannot verbalize. “You two were gone for pret-ty long time this afternoon.”

“Yeah,” you quickly solve. “It was sparring hour. We always do that.”

“Not usually for that long, though.” Under a curtain of eyelashes, the redhead blinks up at you with a hope that seizes your head. “So….?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“We’re friends,” you blurt. “Colleagues, actually, which is a step below friends.”

Isabel blows disappointed raspberries. “Furlan said you two go way back.”

“We do, but—”

“Levi hand-picked you to join the gang.”

“Not really, he—”

“All he ever does is hang out with you.”

“That is not true,” you snip, itching to run. “I mean — okay, some of it is true, but I’m not the only person he talks to. Shit, Isa, I’ve known him since I was a kid. He pulled me out of a bad situation and we — no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Isabel mimes zipping her lips closed with her thumb and index finger, only to toss the invisible key somewhere in the crowd.

“Isabel.” You turn towards her, eyes widening in a desperation that even surprises your drunken state. “Get the — get that fucking key back, we aren’t—”

“We aren’t what?”

A deeper voice breaks the moment of insanity, causing Isabel to stare behind you with rounded eyes and a dropped jaw.

You stare back at her, cursing her stupid ginger mop of a head with every crude word under the sun.

Then she does about the worst thing she could do at a time like this.

“Hi, bro! Gotta go!”

“Isa—!”

Too late.

She piles in with the rest of the sloppiness, leaving you to deal with the man over your shoulder.

When you turn, Levi is there — eye-level in height and frowning, brow quirked with mild interest. The shirt he usually has so neatly aligned is popped at the collar and buttoned down to his sternum.

“You’re drunk,” is all he greets with, and the tinge of red on your face only increases.

“A little,” you admit.

To your horror, you see it: the way his lips part while he waits for an explanation, the fall of black strands over his eyes, his expanse of his naked chest—

You’re friends. You are two people who found each other in one fucked up place. You work together, live together, survive together.

So why would Isabel feel the need to open a door that you had no clue was unlocked?

“Oi.” Squinting, Levi leans in to study the drain of color from your face. “Are you—”

“I don’t feel so good.”

You don’t wait for Levi to register your interruption, instead curving past him towards the open door leading to the dead air of the Underground City.

Walking until there aren’t any bodies to stifle your next breath, you round the corner for a sense of privacy and breathe in deep through your nose.

Drunk. That’s all Isabel is — babbling and silly and drunk.

“Maybe pull your hair out of your face if you’re going to puke.”

Shit, did he—

Craning your chin over your shoulder, your worst nightmare is confirmed: Levi Ackerman stands a mere few feet from where you’ve hidden yourself, facial expression dripping with annoyance.

His arms cross over his chest once your eyes connect.

“I’m not doing it for you,” he adds when you say nothing.

The nausea dissolves in an instant, leaving you with a very heavy weight on your shoulders.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just…”

Unable to find the right words to explain yourself, you twirl and smack into the cobblestone wall. Inch by inch you drop in height, dragging down its cold surface until you’re seated on the ground. Levi’s brows fly high, but he doesn’t move.

“This is all really surreal right now.”

Levi bites. “In what way?”

“As in I never thought I’d make it to my tenth birthday, much less my eighteenth birthday, and here we are celebrating it. No one in our house actually knows it’s a real accomplishment,” you admit in the haze of the liquor. “Everyone is happy to have us, and I’m happy to have us, but I feel this… this butterfly anxiety in my stomach every time someone says 'to many more years' like we have guaranteed years and it’s—”

The sound of his boots gently tap closer until something presses against your arm. When you lull your head to look in the direction of the sound, it’s Levi sitting beside you.

In the dirt.

A beat passes.

“You’re gonna get dirty,” you mumble.

“Don’t remind me.”

Drawing your knees to your chest, the two of you sit in silence for what feels like an hour.

You can’t pretend to know what’s going through his head — if he heard an ounce of what Isabel said, if he can hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, if he even understands the gravity of what he did.

What he’s done through these last few years.

“Why did you do it?”

The question is barely audible, but you feel Levi shift to watch you.

Head bowed to your knees, you catch your wrist between your thumb and finger and squeeze.

“Do what?”

“You gave me a second chance, Levi.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” you argue firmly, “and I never understood why. I’m glad you did, because I thought— I didn’t even see myself ever getting out of that hell, but it—”

“James.” You quiet at the soft snip of your name. “Don’t spiral. It’s the alcohol talking.”

“It’s me talking, Levi,” you argue firmly. “We always skirt around this shit. We… fight it out or whatever so we never have to bring it up. Someone has to finally say something.”

“If I give you your present early, then will you knock it off?”

You perk, chin lifting from its perch on your arm to stare at the other boy like he’s grown a second head.

He scowls, hand buried deep in his trouser pocket.

“My what?” you softly ask, and for the first time, Levi deflates.

At first it’s physical: inch by inch his body lessens its typical intensity, from shoulders to chest, arms to legs. He slumps beside you, head bowed with cascading black bangs covering his eyes.

He continues to fish around in his pocket before producing his open palm to you.

In the center lay an unassuming box, brown and thin, without labels or bows.

“Your present,” he reiterates like it’s painful.

“You got me a…”

“It’s your birthday.”

“I know it is, but you didn’t have to—”

When your eyes connect, you see it: the nerves that settle in his eyes, at the corners of his lips, as he waits with this damn box in his hand.

“What?” he asks, flat.

The walls start to build brick by cautious brick.

The window of vulnerability is closing.

Abruptly you lean forward, grabbing his hand to keep him from retreating.

Levi sways with the sudden movement, breath hitching at the way your other hand closes on top of your joined hands, trapping it.

“Don’t.”

Don’t run, is what you want to say.

Don’t hide, when you know it’s what he wants to do.

Levi stills at your command, and you slowly slip the box from his palm.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t the point of a shitty gift to open it as a surprise?” he rhetorically snaps, throat bobbing with a swallow.

Eventually you loosen your grip and free his hand. He draws it back into his lap before his hand can touch the dirt below.

You sit straighter, mindful of the way you remove the lid of the rectangular container.

Fragile, because you have no idea what Levi could possibly—

“Oh.”

Silver.

Dainty and small but more beautiful than anything you’ve ever witnessed in the Underground, you stare slack-jawed at the silver necklace nestled in a blanket of tissue paper.

Even in the forever night of the city, the jewelry gleams — and at its sloped apex sits a gemstone, smokey and small —

“If you hate it—”

“Hate it?” you interrupt in a gasped bark, stunned Levi would suggest anything of the sort.

For once, emotion shows: his eyes widen, lips parted with an apology he cannot find as you rip the necklace out of the box to hold it to your chest in a balled fist.

“How could I hate it?”

“I didn’t know if you liked silver,” he admits lamely, caught off guard.

“How the hell did you get this?”

“Bought it.”

Now it’s your turn to stare like a deer caught in a lantern’s light.

“I knocked the guy’s lights out after, so don’t look at me like I’m some fucking saint.”

He didn’t steal this.

With his own earnings, he bought this — for you?

“Why go through that trouble? This is… it has to be surface made, right?”

“A while back, you said you don’t own anything,” Levi explains, the tips of his ears turning a shade of pink. He reaches to smooth rogue baby hairs away from his face and settles his elbow on a raised knee. “Nothing proper, anyway. Now you do.”

You don’t own anything.

He’s right. You hold the necklace like stardust in the palm of your hand, studying every centimeter of its gleam.

It’s such a thoughtful idea, such a beautiful gift, that your throat closes up with budding emotion.

All of this trouble — for you.

“I might cry,” you tease, but it isn’t entirely untrue.

Levi groans like he saw that inconvenience coming.

“For fuck’s sake, do not cry.”

Then something otherworldly happens.

You both stare at the other and smile.

Although his is microscopic, it’s there: upturned corners and a crinkle in his eye, face exposed with his hair out of the way. You bite your lower lip to avoid grinning too hard, enamored with the sight before you.

The party feels so far away when Levi’s looking at you like this.

All you hear — all you see — is him.

“I might need help,” you murmur, pinching the chain between your thumb and index finger to hold out the small piece of jewelry to him.

“You think I know how these things work?”

“You’re smart. Figure it out, Ackerman.”

You hold your hair higher and turn your back to him, mimicking the things you’ve seen women do in the illustrated books Isabel’s smuggled from the surface people.

It feels right, especially when his fingertips brush along the slope of your neck.

Before you can stop yourself, a small gasp bursts from your lips. Levi either doesn’t hear or ignore it, because he’s reaching around to lay the necklace lightly on your collarbone without comment.

His fingers continue to touch the nape of your neck, careful not to pinch or scratch.

(To think hands like his can be soft.)

“That okay?” he asks behind you, his hot breath peppering your skin.

You glance down at your chest, touching the tiny gemstone with adoration.

“Perfect,” you say.

It really is.

(And it's yours. It's all yours.)

When you turn your chin to look at him, you don’t expect the proximity of his face — Levi’s nose is so close that you can see the gentle faded freckles that would have thrived with the sun.

He doesn’t slink away, doesn’t move a muscle, and you’re trapped staring at his mouth expecting an insult, a name, anything.

Nothing comes.

Instead you both remain here in the heat of two beating hearts, too afraid to run.

(Too afraid to ruin.)

Furlan said you two go way back.

“We should go inside.”

Levi, albeit strained, murmurs between you. His breath tickles your lips.

The silver around your neck shifts when your head gently shakes.

“It’s too crowded in there,” you argue without much fire.

From this angle, you can’t see his eyes. He’s too busy staring down at your mouth.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not cold,” you tell him honestly.

“No?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Must be the alcohol,” he surmises.

“It isn’t.” You’ve never been so serious in your life. “I feel sober now. Just…”

“Just what?” he asks a little too quickly.

You miss his gaze a second too late — when his eyes raise, yours drop to his lips.

His boots become one with the ground beneath you, stuck in place. You swear you hear his breath grow heavier, contemplative, and you know — know that you’re about to do that one stupid thing you’ve thought about for years.

“Tell me."

He whispers, and it shatters the glass barrier between you.

You bridge the gap and press your lips softly to his.

Levi's stiff as a board, as if his brain realizes what you've done before his body has. Eventually his chin dips forward, his lips fluttering across yours as he finds his breath.

Then he moves like a starving man that’s found his oasis.

His knee knocks into yours when he pushes, deepening his mouth’s position on yours. You fumble backwards, shoulder blades hitting the wall with a gasp. Both of your limbs fumble to grab the other’s face first, but his reflexes outshine yours.

Slow and deliberate, experimenting with the sensation, Levi kisses you. He kisses you.

You match his exploration, trembling with your hand curled around the back of his neck. He inhales sharply when your nails scratch gently against his skin, causing him to push against you more.

Like he’s drowning.

Like he doesn’t care if he ever breathes again.

Your body burns when his left hand drops from your cheek to lightly run along the gemstone at the cusp of that glittering silver necklace.

You gasp for air as your noses knock together, both silently eager to find a rhythm you can both sing to. A whimper escapes your throat when something wet runs along your lower lip. His hot breath mingles with your tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your lower belly.

Then Levi pulls away like he’s somehow hurt you, gray eyes wide and — scared.

Fearful, like he’s crossed a line.

Delirious from the high, you shake your head and run your hand through the buzzed undercut at the nape of his neck. “I wanna keep doing that.”

As if his eyes could get any wider.

Levi looks wrecked. He opens his mouth to say something, as if to find any good reason to dispute your request but closes it.

He simply nods.

Inching forward, Levi captures your lips with a tenderness you’ve never considered he could possess. He’s careful, caging your head in with both of his hands now and thumbs lazily stroking your cheeks.

You hate that you must taste like the very thing he despises.

Except Levi groans, body shuddering, and when he shifts you feel something hard against your hip. It’s fleeting, but it snaps your eyes open in surprise.

Levi’s eyes are squeezed shut. Focused.

(He doesn’t even look this determined when he’s flying around on stolen ODM gear.)

You sigh when he presses further into you, eliminating the space between, and kiss back with feverish intent. Levi drops a hand to steady your hip — whether to keep you still or to keep himself from suffocating you, you’re not sure.

Then your tongues accidentally touch again, and you can’t help but moan. “Levi.”

He grits his teeth, pulling away. “Don’t say it like that.”

Your heart seizes with uncertainty. “Say what?”

He must be in pain. His eyes are screwed shut. Then he shifts again, gliding his thigh between yours, and you know now.

Levi Ackerman is rock hard, fighting every demon in his body.

“My name,” he croaks, finally opening his eyes. His pupils are practically blown black.

“But I like your name,” you reason innocently, and he drops his forehead onto your shoulder.

“Fucking shit…” He must feel you expand your lungs to ask a question, because he stops you before you can start. “I’m fine. Just… give me a second.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, hand still buried in his hair.

His head instantly picks up, searching for your face. Studying. “For what?”

“That.” His brows move a microscopic fraction higher. “If you didn’t… I mean, I haven’t…”

“I haven’t either,” he confesses without ever explaining what he means.

Now it’s your turn to widen your stare.

Your first kiss was his first kiss, too.

Something giddy floods your system. Something stronger than any hard liquor can conjure.

“Do you regret it?” he asks under a murmur.

You adamantly shake your head. “Do you?”

It takes a breath, but he shakes his head back.

Your mouth burst into a bright smile, high on the adrenaline of the point of no return you’ve both crossed in the midnight.

Cheeks tinged with a pink hue, all Levi can do is stare — then he chuckles, breathless and bewildered.

His hand drops to take yours, tugging the both away from the wall. You follow with little resistance, squeezing his palm.

You both linger in the dark for a second longer.

Then he lets go, taking the lead back to the apartment.

You follow.

(Door, now and forever, unlocked.)

.

author's note: imagine sitting on this exact chapter since march 2023. i have been dying to post this shit. chapter 14 is taking a lil longer to write so i'll keep you posted if itll be next week or in 2 weeks.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @vigilancio

[oleander-nin]

The Weight of a Letter(11)

A/N: okay, I know he seems out of the blue, but this was planned for so long. Also, sorry it's not 3000(it's 697off), but I really wanted to end it where I did. This was so fun to write. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger @whygz @lexiechr@10yagurlchip01 @rex-ray @sunsersilversky @theavianlady @sspiderj

Part 1 - Previous - Next

Words: 2303

Content warnings: None I think? Idk, school, possessive hints, slight paranoia

Chapter 11: A Dirty Liar

I moved through the motions of the day in a quiet buzz. Staying up all night talking to Mikey was fun, but ended up being a bit of a mistake. I could barely sit through each class. I fiddle with the rose I had received this morning along with another letter. It is beautiful, yes, but I’m starting to get unnerved. Today’s letter feels… Off. I don’t know how to describe it, but it doesn’t seem like the others. The sense of admiration and love was still there, but so was a hint of obsession. Danger, even. I glance down at my bag by my feet, shifting in the chair. My letter was sitting just inside the zipper, begging to be read through again. I doubted I could. One of the lines kept sounding through my head, making its way into every thought. 

I can’t wait to make you mine for good.

I look down at the flower, frowning slightly. It wasn’t too bad of a line, almost innocent on its own. But reading the letter, with the surrounding thoughts building it up to make it seem like I was falling into a trap? Call me paranoid, but I was starting to fear the letters that once brought me joy.

I suck in a deep breath when the teacher tells us to partner up, grumbling under my breath. I wish I could just stay home and hole up in Irma’s guestroom, away from crowds and prying eyes. Even now I can feel my hair stand on end from someone’s staring, but this time, I could pinpoint it.

My eyes meet a swampy brown hazel, the staring boy’s eyes narrowed behind thick half lens glasses. He glanced down at my rose and scoffs, clearly finding it in distaste. I frown, pulling the delicate flower closer to my chest. Despite my recent mixed feelings towards the letters, I still found the flowers precious. They were mine, and they were still fairly sweet. Even if this random guy disagreed.

I watch him look around at the quickly partnering students, a scowl on his face. He seemed to hate group projects too. Good. I hope he suffers. I turn away from him to see if anyone near me is also without a partner. Maybe if I get this done quickly, I wouldn’t have to worry about any homework. I hate physics.

I scan the classroom, growing agitated as I realize the glaring kid and I were the only ones left. I slump back in my chair, meeting his glare. If he wanted a partner, he would have to come to my desk. I was not getting up for him.

He stands by his desk, face set in what seemed a permanent scowl. I couldn’t help but notice his teeth, the front two being slightly bigger than normal. His black, fading, side buzzed hair was scruffy, small sprigs standing every which way. His purple satin jacket made him stand out the most, his posture too hunched for me to get a proper read on his height. I pull up a knee, staring him down. I wasn’t going to back down, not for him. I didn’t even know why.

It takes the teacher to scold us before he finally trudges over, obnoxiously tugging a desk over to meet mine. I watch his hissy fit with interest, hiding a smug smile behind my hand. I had won our little war, even if it was by accident.

“You better not be stupid.” He hisses, his voice smoother than expected. There was a slight slur to his words, whether it was from a lisp or his teeth, I wasn’t sure. I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms. I really didn’t like him. “I will not be stuck with a stupid partner.”

“You’re in luck,” I say tightly. “I happen to be pretty good at calculating a ball's trajectory.”

The boy rolls his eyes, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a clean page. My eye twitches as I watch him. Even when he wasn’t being annoying, he still got on my nerves. I pop my elbow when reaching down for my backpack, unzipping the top to search for my notebook. The letter falls to the floor and I ignore it for a moment, more focused on grabbing my supplies. My new partner’s eyes focus on the fallen note, his sneer growing.

“What’s that?”

“Something you’ll never get.” I say coldly, surprising myself at my sudden rudeness. I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment, thankful he wasn’t able to tell. I barely knew this kid, and even if he seemed to be a prick, I shouldn't be rude back. Tony always tried to drill the golden rule into me after all.

I pick up the letter and shove it back in my bag, noting the confusion on his face. Right, he wouldn’t get the insult if he didn’t know what the letter was. I was safe, for now. I clear my throat, setting my notebook on my desk and flipping to a clear page. “Right, so uh, can you go grab the ball?”

“Are your legs broken or something? Get it yourself.” He scoffs. I clench my fists, nearly breaking my pencil in half. I take a deep breath, trying to not explode on him. I had to be civil. Punching classmates wasn’t civil.

“Right.” I say, sickly sweet. I stand up and head towards the front of the room, collecting all the necessary materials for our “experiment”. I shake my head, this could’ve been so much easier if we were just given a video to watch.

I set everything back on the desks, looking back at the board for the instructions. I reach into my backpack and pull out a small ruler, making a table for the data. I try my best not to laugh at my partner's face and the way it was scrunched up. I look back up, offering him the ruler in hopes to make peace. Once this lab was over I would avoid him like the plague, but for now, I felt the need to be civil. I can’t collect data if he’s being a jerk.

He takes the ruler and starts to make his own table, his lines being much neater than mine had been. I rest my chin in my hand, tapping the desk. We were still waiting for our teacher to hand out the balloons.

“What’s your name?” I ask, my eyes scanning the room absentmindedly.

“CK.” He says simply, not looking anymore friendly than he had moments before.

“CK? What does that stand for?”

His eye twitches. “You don’t get to know.”

“My name (Y/n).” I offer, feeling a bit peeved he never asked. I swear this kid had no manners, or he was just ignoring them on purpose to spite me. Probably the latter.

“I already know your name.” He says, still working on his data table. I look at him oddly, unsure what to say. I don’t remember ever giving it to him. A pit settles into my stomach, my hair rising on end. I try to push it down, not wanting it to grow. Most likely, he had heard the teacher call my name and picked it up from there.

I sit up when I notice our teacher nearing our desks, ignoring CK and my paranoia. We had an experiment to do after all. I take the purple balloon with a nod and a quick thank you, putting it on the desk with the rest of our supplies. I can’t help but picture his head popping like the balloon would. It makes me smile to see his head deflate behind my eyes. I tap the table for a moment before I pull up a stopwatch on google, deciding the games are done. As much fun as I was having trying not to punch CK, we really needed to start the experiment.

“Any preference on who’s dropping the items?” I ask, setting up the stopwatch. I watch with mild amusement as CK reaches over the table, taking the tools into his arms.

“As if I would trust you to do it properly. You can do the time, I’ll drop the things.” He sniffs. I roll my eyes, more amused by the minute. I may hate him, but at least his annoyingness was more pathetically funny than frustrating. Well, he was frustrating too, but I would never talk to him again either way. I can deal with this for the next hour and ten minutes. Hopefully.

I hit the timer as he drops each item, marking them down on my data sheet. The experiment was fairly easy, we just had to calculate how far we were dropping everything, and compare fall times between the different objects. It was a nice, easier lesson. Plus, all I had to do was hit the button for the stopwatch since CK insisted on doing each of the problems himself, despite me getting the answer easily on my own.

“Ready for the last one?” I ask, doodling on my notes as I wait for him to finish up triple checking his equation. As much as I had grown to despise him, I had to give him credit for how good he was at this class. He (rudely) helped correct one of my problems already, saving me from getting a worse grade.

CK looks up, his muddy eyes holding a great distaste for me. I grin. It was nice to know the feeling was very mutual. He grumbles as he stands up, holding his arm above his head as he drops the last item, a small pen. It clacks to the floor and rolls under my desk, stopping at my foot. I check the stopwatch, reading the number aloud.

“One point thirty-four seconds.” I say, jotting it down and starting my equation. CK nods and slips back into his seat, crossing his arms while scowling at me. I keep writing for a moment before looking up, feeling peeved at his attitude.

“Can I help you?” I ask, my voice syrupy with fake sweetness. I grin, bemused as his face twitches. He knows I’m pulling his leg.

“My pen.” He says. I look down, realizing I forgot to grab it. I chew on my cheek, contemplating whether to pick it up. On the one hand, it would be a nice thing to do. On the other, I was really tired of being nice to this guy. I grin cheekily at him, keeping up my sugary tone.

“You forgot the magic word~” I say. If I was lucky, I could squeeze some manners out of him yet. Or he’d pick up his own pen. Either way, it was a win for me.

CK tsks his tongue, tilting his head as he grins evilly. Confusion washes over me, trying to figure out what he was planning. His hand goes into his pocket, pulling out an open envelope, my open envelope. I look towards my bag, seething. He took my letter.

I reach across the table, trying to snatch it back, but he holds it out of my reach. I glower at him, my fists clenching by my side. The letters may be starting to grow questionable, but they were still mine. I wanted it back.

“Give it back.” I hiss, trying to not alert the teacher. Getting into a fight in front of her was not a smart move. CK’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with malice.

“Give me my pen and I’ll consider it.”

I nearly jump across the table and strangle him then and there. I slowly reach under the table, keeping my eyes locked on CK. I pat around on the ground, trying to find the pen without looking. After a couple seconds go by and my frustration builds, I glance down and quickly spot the pen to grab it. I toss the pen back over to him, holding out my hand.

“The letter.” I say, clenching my teeth. It felt wrong to have him hold something that was given to me out of love. Especially something that spilled someone's emotions so deeply. Irma reading it was one thing, this jerk-wad reading it was another.

He brings the letter back towards him, holding it loosely in his hand. He smirks and I feel the urge to set him on fire. “No.”

I feel anger build in my chest, my face heating from the pressure. It was taking everything in me not to grab it from him, even if I hurt him in the process. His eyes flicker across my face, still seeming smug. “Say the magic word, (Y/n).”

I nearly gag at my name being spilled from his mouth. It felt like a curse from him. I take a deep breath, knowing exactly what he’s playing at by parroting the same command back at me.

“Give me my letter. Please.” I say tightly, the words feeling as if they physically hurt to fall from my mouth. CK grins, pleased. He tosses the letter back towards me and I quickly hold it close, taking out the paper and skimming it to make sure it wasn’t damaged. Irma didn’t get to read it yet.

“Here’s your letter from Von Ryan. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know how happy you are with them, considering your reaction to me taking it.”

I look at him skeptically, distrust and anger set deep in my expression. I was more mad he took my stuff than the fact he took the letter. “You know Von Ryan?” 

Something flashes behind his eyes, an emotion I can’t tell, and his buck teeth shine proudly from behind his wide grin. “Of course I do! I’m Von Ryan after all. I wrote you the letters.”

[beautifulpaprika]

Rivalry at the Manor

pairing: sorcerer!fem!reader x sorcerer!yeonjun

warnings: 18+, spice mixed with magic B)

summary: Yeonjun has stolen your father's affection all because he can do magic. You're going to prove to both of them you're better than him. Nothing will get in the way. Not even him.

word count: 9.1k

Masterlist✨

I watch Choi Yeonjun from afar as he swirls his hands in the air from the garden. The smile spreading on his face is the bane of my existence.

I take a bite out of my toast, my jaw tense and my mouth dry as I eat. The plate on our oak table sits in front of me, peaceful, but my body itself is anything but. 

The hardest part is watching my father fawn over him and tell him what a good job he’s doing. I can’t hear them, but I can already tell from the years of hearing it. 

“Oh, Yeonjun, you’re doing amazing!” “Oh Yeonjun, I’ve never seen anyone with your skills.” “Oh Yeonjun, there’s no one like you!” “Y/N, why can’t you be more like this charmer?” 

My fist slams into the table thinking about the smile on his face when he said that to me, but I wasn’t laughing. 

So what Yeonjun can do magic? I can too! 

Maybe I’ve never saved a cat from a tree with my mind or liftend a tree itself to get it out of the road, but I’ve written my name with a pencil- that I didn’t pick up! 

Even then, I couldn’t get a reaction from my father, not while “precious Yeonjun” was around. 

“Miss, are you done with that?” one of our ladies, Ellie, approaches me. I nod but before she can take the plate away, I stop her. 

“Ellie? Would you be able to help me out with something today? I’ll make sure you get extra pay this week,” I smile at her. She nods, a smile on her face.

“Of course, Miss!” 

***

Thump! The chair falls onto its side again and into the grass. I try not to show my frustration in front of Ellie who doesn’t react to any of my failures to lift the chair. 

This has been an ongoing activity for the entire day. I tried helping the delivery boy bring in heavy bags of food in, but even then, my magic failed. 

“Is the chair supposed to be on its side?” the last voice I wanted to hear chirps behind me. 

Yeonjun already has a smirk painted across his face, a shine in his eyes from watching me prove that he’s better. 

“Don’t you have something better to do with your time? Like running around playing do-gooder with my father?” I ask facing him now. He rolls his eyes at the last part before looking behind me again.

“Than this?” his wags his finger at the wooden chair. “Absolutely not. It’s a huge ego boost,” he steps closer. 

“As if you don’t have enough of that already,” I scoff. 

He approaches the red bench on the side and sits back to watch. 

“What’s a little more?” his head tilts and I hate that I used to have a crush on him, but when he does that, I can understand why I found him handsome, but now all I can seem to do is hate him. The way he can tease me but then act like the most innocent man in front of my father, the way he finds more ways to embarrass me, the way we aren’t even related and he somehow receives more love.

“When is it enough for you?” I ask, when the grin is still on his face. “Why can’t you leave me alone? You’ve already taken the only family I have, why do you-” his smile is fading. I stop myself, forbidding the tears from coming out when he’s here. I refuse to give him any more material to work with. 

I spin around to face Ellie who is unaffected by the tension. 

“I’d like to take a break, Ellie. I’ll come find you when I’d like to resume,” I smile at her. She bows her head and makes her way inside in a shuffle. 

I turn to Yeonjun, who’s still sitting on the bench, wondering if he’ll get the hint to move, but he scans my face. No sign of him getting ready to leave, so I make the first move to head to my room, but I don’t get past Yeonjun when he steps in front of me. 

My jaw aches from the way I’m grinding my teeth. 

“Leave. Me. Alone,” I try to step around him, but he blocks my way again. 

“Or what?” he asks. I take a deep breath, not allowing myself to be angered in front of him. “You feel that? The anger? You’re trying too hard to suppress it, when you need to use it.”

”Oh, give me a break Yeonjun. The last thing I want to do is listen to you,” I step around him again. If he thought I would believe he was trying to help me? He is severely mistaken. 

When I rush through the door, my father appears. 

“Y/N? What were you doing out there?” He peeks into the garden and spots Yeonjun, a look of understanding on his face. “You two haven’t been doing magic together have you?” He raises an eyebrow and I scoff at him in disbelief. 

“Of course not. I would never corrupt your precious toy,” I roll my eyes. 

“Y/N-“

”I need a shower,” and I walk around him the same way I did to Yeonjun thinking that the best option for me is simply to leave this house forever. 

***

The next day, my mission is not stopped and the chair is right back where it was. 

”Miss, I can grab you a glass of water if you think it will help,” Ellie proposes. 

I shake my head, not able to look up at her from keeling over and panting. 

When I do look, I try lifting the chair again. 

3. . . 2 . . . 1. Lift! Lift! And. . . Back on its side. 

“Damn it!” I yell out, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when the chair hits the bushes. Ellie mirrors me putting a hand over our mouths. 

“‘The last thing I would do is listen to you,’ she says,” Yeonjun appears from the corner of the garden while mocking me. 

“Were you spying on us?” I accuse. 

“That’s not what we’re discussing,” he waves me off. 

“You had no right-“

”Spare me the moral compass. I did it to help you,” I can’t even get a word in! ”You’ve been too busy trying to be perfect and nice - you’re doing it all wrong if you want to use your magic properly.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense-“

”You just did it!” He seems more excited than I am. 

I slowly turn to Ellie who is watching all of this go on. “You’re welcome to have your break,” I dismiss her. 

“Do I have to?” She asks. I give her a look that says “Go.” I roll my eyes when she giggles behind her hand and retreats from the garden. 

“You scared to say I’m right in front of others?” Yeonjun asks, resting on the same bench as yesterday. 

“A lady can always admit when she’s wrong,” I play with some of the leaves on the bushes to distract from the fact that he’s staring at me. 

“Do ladies also say “Damn it,” when they don’t get what they want?” I purse my lips. My cheeks flush at the fact that he heard me losing my composure. It wasn’t my proudest moment. 

I sit next to him on the bench and he tenses. 

“Look, Y/N, I want to help-“

”What’s going on out here?” My father’s voice booms and it’s as if even the birds have gone quiet.

”Shit,” Yeonjun mumbles. 

“Yeonjun, your practice was an hour ago,” he points to the watch on his wrist. And if I’m correct, I started messing with that chair for about an hour. He missed practicing his magic to watch mine. He said he wanted to help earlier, but why? It’s not like we’re friends. I’ve known Yeonjun since my father brought him here because of “stuff going on at home”, and he has never given any hint that he could help me. 

“I was-“ he gestured to me. 

“Yes, I see,” my father held his chin higher when he looks at me. I can see his guard come up when he talks to me and all I want is to understand. 

“I didn’t mean to go against what you wanted, but-“

”Yeonjun!” My father interrupts, “I don’t want another word,” he’s quieter. “Go inside.” 

“If you’ll hear me out-“

My father doesn’t say anything this time, he gives him a hard look that says “Do as I say or you’ll regret it.” 

Yeonjun pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, while taking a quick peek back at me, but eventually makes his way inside so that I’m left with my father. 

He watches Yeonjun disappear into the house before looking down at the ground, not even back to me. He mumbles something and I raise an eyebrow.

”Are you going to keep mumbling or are you going to tell me the reason you want to keep him and I apart?” I cross my arms. It’s never a good feeling to get hostile with my father, but it’s as if that’s the only thing he responds to these days. 

“Don’t act like you’re lovers who can’t be together. You’re hardly friends!” For a second, I imagine Yeonjun and I being forbidden lovers. Sneaky rendezvous in the middle of the night, a stolen kiss here and there behind a wall. 

God, I need someone to bed me and soon if Yeonjun is the one making my heart race. I peek at my father, wondering if he can hear it, but all he wears is dismay and disdain for me.

“Can you listen to the words your saying for a moment? You don’t even want us to get along? What is it? You think he’s much better than me and you’re too afraid it’ll rub off and suddenly you’ll have no reason to dislike me, your only child? Are you afraid you might actually want to take care of me for once?”

”That is all I have done! I’ve fed you, clothed you, made sure you were safe, and you want to claim like an ignorant child, that I have done nothing for you!” 

“You have done nothing that matters! You-” I stop myself, feeling the tears well up again. Yeonjun’s voice comes to the front  of my mind  about trying to be perfect and suppressing my strong emotions. “I need to meet with Ellie, she’s been waiting for some time inside.” As much as I would like to argue with him and tap into whatever Yeonjun was talking about, I need to buy time so that my father doesn’t find out I’m practicing. 

“This discussion isn’t done,” he calls after me. 

My shoes echo off of the walls when I step inside, and when I look up, Yeonjun is leaning against a wall, arms crossed and leaning back. 

“You said you could help me, right?” I ask. He nods in reply, still not moving from his spot. “Tomorrow We need to go somewhere, not in the garden. He’ll know where to find us if we do.” 

“I know a place,” he finally says. I purse my lips as we stare each other down, no one here to witness this. There are more words stuck in my throat, but I don’t let them escape when I turn away from him and make the trek back to my room. 

***

“I don’t see how this is going to help,” I roll my eyes as we walk through the market streets. My father typically hires people to come out here and get our food, it’s strange to see pictures come to life. 

“You’d think by now you would see that I know what I’m doing,” he holds an orange to his face and sniffs it, before scrunching his face and putting it back. 

“An explanation helps enforce trust.”

“Then what’s the point of the trust if you need an explanation?” he asks and I take his words into consideration. My mouth opens to come up with an answer, but a man approaches us, a smirk on his face, his dark hair slicked back, and a confidence in his walk. 

“Well, well,” he chirps. He’s making direct eye contact with Yeonjun, I look over to the man who’s rolling his eyes. Clearly, this is no friend of his. “Haven’t seen you in a while, especially here!” his hands spread to the bustling market. “Didn’t think I would ever see you again after last time,” his chuckle is deep and Yeonjun tenses. 

I examine his body language at the appearance of this man. 

What is the history between these two? 

“Lye. I see you’re still chasing after me even after all of these years. Does your father know you’ve been after me?” Yeonjun asks. The man standing across from us doesn’t seem so cocky after that comment. 

“Don’t worry about my father. You’ve done that enough,” he seethes. 

“Somebody has to, considering you’re out here and not with him. Then again, I would be worried even if you were with him,” this really seems to press the man’s buttons. He’s fuming now and steps forward. 

On instinct, I move between him and Yeonjun. 

Lye looks down at me and starts to laugh. 

“Yeonjun, I knew you could get low, but I didn’t know you would start using girls as your guard dogs,” he doesn't look at me as he says this - like I’m a bug he’s already stepped on. 

“If you were such a tough guy, you would look me in my face when you’re talking about me,” I spit. He rolls his eyes then glides them down to me. As his burning gaze meets mine, I’m starting to think it was better when he wasn’t addressing me. 

“You don’t know who you’re defending-”

“Oh, I do,” I roll my eyes, “If I’m the one defending him, you know it’s bad,” I mutter. 

“Gee, thanks,” Yeonjun mumbles behind me and Lye’s face starts to stretch into a smile. 

“But I need him. You can’t hurt him,” I say. 

“Fine,” his lips purse, “I’ll walk away,” he nods. 

I’m filled with a sense of pride. My words are more powerful than-

“Watch out!” Yeonjun yells when Lye picks up one of the oranges and throws it in our direction. I scoff up at Lye. 

“You-”

“If you thought for a second I was going to listen to you, you need another head screwed on. This one isn’t working,” he pokes a finger into my forehead. 

The blood in my veins rushes to the spot he poked - an anger that needs to be soothed now. I’ve taken enough demeaning comments from my own father, but I live with him. Who the hell is this man?

“Use the anger, Y/N,” Yeonjun whispers to me. 

Lye must have been angered by our secret exchange of words and his hands move to pick up a bin of bread and it hovers to move over us. Does everyone in this world know how to use magic except for me? 

The bin plummets down to hit us before Yeonjun uses his magic to redirect it to a far wall. 

We’re starting to gain an audience as some people scream and hide behind objects while others watch in awe. 

Lye picks up another bin of something, it takes Yeonjun redirecting it to the wall again and smashing it to find out it was a bin of jewelry. 

“Come on, Yeonjun. I thought that was your bodyguard! Why are you doing all the work?” he laughs again. “Oh. Oh, no. Don’t tell me she can’t use magic,” he makes a pouting face. I’ve felt useless before, but having Yeonjun watch me expectantly, relying on me- it’s new and uncomfortable. Everyone in the crowd is watching my 

“Stop suppressing it. Use instinct and emotion,” Yeonjun grits out to me. 

“Yeonjun, what’s the point? Fight me like a man, don’t put a woman between us, it would be too easy.”

“That was pretty rude actually,” my lips pout involuntarily and Yeonjun rolls his eyes.

Lye’s hand moves and I look beyond the crowd gathering to see a sword lifted above them. 

“You have to do it now, Y/N!” Yeonjun yells behind me. 

I need to use my emotions to my advantage. 

The sword swings high above. As it  swings back and forth, Lye taunting us, I think of the thing that angers me the most. 

Myself.

I think of why I couldn’t be good enough for my father. Why he chose Yeonjun over me despite me being his only child. Why I was never successful in the one thing he wanted me to be good at. 

I can’t even count to three before the tip aims at Yeonjun and it’s coming towards us. 

It’s not going to work! Yeonjun is going to die because of me! 

I close my eyes expecting to feel pain or to hear screams of agony from Yeonjun but they don’t come. The crowd murmurs and I move my hand away from my face. I almost collapse when the sword is held up hairs away from my face. 

“She’s got something in her after all!” Yeonjun jeers at Lye. I smack the feeling of pride I gain from his words considering it’s coming from Yeonjun. 

Lye’s jaw ticks and when the murmurs and chatter start to pick up from the crowd, he smirks a bit. 

“You won’t have to worry about me anymore,” and he flees. For a moment, I’m drowning in confusion, but Yeonjun rushes to me, offering a hand. 

“We need to go.”

“Why?” I whisper. 

As if we were meat hanging for a starving carnivore, the crowd’s faces are filled with pinched eyebrows and tense jaws. They’re out for blood. 

“Now, Y/N!” I take his hand as a man grabs a shovel from his stall. The murmuring develops into protest and shouting.

“Get your curses out of here!” 

“They’re going to kill us!” a mother cries. 

Our feet kick up dirt as Yeonjun drags me behind him, running in the direction back to the house - some citizens chasing us, others watching it unfold. 

***

I sat in the garden for a few hours staring into the bushes, but it’s as if they are not there. I’m stuck in my head, replaying the features etched onto the crowd’s face as they watched us. 

Fear. Hatred. 

“I knew you’d be wallowing, I didn’t know it would be this much,” Yeonjun’s voice appears from the darkness, knocking me out of my head. “My realization was only an hour,” he says.

“Realization of what?”

“That the magic you thought would help people, the one thing you might gain approval for, only makes them fear you,” the tone of his voice suggests he never did get over it. 

“Have they always been that way?” I ask. I have visited the town more times than I can count, but I suppose it was never long enough to hear their opinions on people using magic. 

Yeonjun responds by nodding his head. “They see it often,” he starts, “but because they don’t have an understanding of it, it’s not the most accepted activity,” he explains. I nod my head. 

“Why did that guy have it out for you?” Lye did not seem like someone who has a small grudge against Yeonjun. He was willing to kill him. “Did you steal his parents away from him too?” I’m not sure what urges me to ask the question.

“He thinks I did,” he answers. I stare him down, trying to find any sign that he’s joking, but there is no sign. He doesn’t say he’s joking. “Linus is sick - has been for a long time,” his face contorts, struggling to get more words out. “My parents died when I was very young and I didn’t have anyone to take care of me,” I gulp, not ready to have sympathy for someone I envy. “Linus caught me stealing, but he ultimately felt bad for me.”

“And he took you in,” I interrupt. He nods. 

“He knew he was sick. Memories were slipping away and so was his health. He taught his son magic already, but he wanted to teach me before I ended up on the streets again. As you could see from the near death encounter earlier, Lye was not happy I was getting his father’s last moments.”

“No kidding.” 

“But he was my first and only father figure too. Lye tried to kill me at least three times before I decided it wasn’t worth my life,” he ends. I think about my father who was so happy to have Yeonjun shown up at his door offering magic services. I wasn’t the favorite anymore. 

“So, Linus was your first, and my father is your second,” I say out loud. 

“I wasn’t planning that. The plan was to work for him and have enough money to leave - go to a whole different town so that I never have to see Lye again.” 

“Why are you still here then?” 

His lips pry open for a second flashing a bit of the white of his teeth, his eyes moving away from the sky and looking into mine. I swallow, anticipating his answer. 

“I found something,” he says. His eyes move to my lips and I shake my head more confused now than I was before. “Your father told me I shouldn’t approach you, but I saw it as a challenge,” he continues. I continue to shake my head. “Yeonjun, you’re not-”

“I knew I’d find you two here,” my father’s face appears behind the bush, the moonlight hitting his face. He always has the perfect timing - then again if we wanted to be more secretive, we should have chosen a spot he’s never caught us in before. 

“Sir-”

“Don’t worry, Yeonjun,” I interrupt, “I wanted to talk to him anyway,” I purse my lips, a sign of his dismissal. There’s no reason Yeonjun needs to listen to me, but he exits the garden nonetheless. 

“There’s nothing to talk to me about. You’ve been out in town without my knowledge and putting yourself in danger!”

“Why have you been telling Yeonjun not to approach me? Why are you so afraid of him teaching me magic? If you think he’s better than me, and you’ve always wanted a son instead of me then just say that!” I feel a sting in my eye on the last sentence, and for the first time, I let myself feel in front of him. I let the tear slip so he can see the agony he’s caused me, if he even cares. 

His face does change. 

“Y/N-”

“You were supposed to be my father! Even more after my mother passed away! Time and time again I try to get your attention, time and time again you’re never on my side and when I finally do something that you have been praising him for non-stop, you want to shut me down!” 

“I have never wanted to replace you,” he says. “You are my daughter, I-” he stops. “I’ve been helping Yeonjun for you, not against you,” he tries to reach out for me, but I take a step back. 

“I don’t know what kind of manipulation you’re trying to pull, but I already know that’s not true. You haven’t done anything for me since he showed up. If you’ll excuse me ,I have a bit more practice to do,” I walk past him to go back inside. 

“Keep practicing, Y/N. It’s not going to save you from the mob waiting for you out there,” I almost stop in my tracks. My feet fidget, but I’m able to keep myself up and move inside. Yeonjun is waiting for me again. 

“I would prefer my father doesn’t come in here to see us talking. We need to go somewhere more private,” I suggest. His eyes flick around my face, his shoulders a bit more stiff.  “Don’t go getting any ideas now,” I tease. He closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“I wasn't thinking of it until you brought it up.”

“So, you’re thinking about it now?” I look back at him, an eyebrow arched. 

“Do you want me to lie?” he asks quietly. My mouth flops open and closed similar to a fish on land, not knowing how to answer the question. A smirk paints his face and he steps around me to walk, the sound of his shoes hitting tile slowly fading. I turn and do my best to catch up. 

My mouth is shut as I follow him into a room - one I have never seen before. 

He opens the door, revealing a bedroom. The bed is large and shoved into the left corner furthest from the door and the window. A desk sits on the other side, nearest the window, a stack of paper the only decorations I spot. A stack of books sits on the floor. 

There are no signs of any other hobbies other than this stack of books, the spines titled “Magic Among Other Things”, “Beginner’s Guide to Magic”, and the one that catches my eye, “Women Wooing Witchcraft”. 

“This one must be your favorite,” I hold up the book with the silhouette of a woman on the cover. He blushes, snatching it from my hands. 

“It’s proven useless so far,” he throws it onto the bed, it sparks a thought on how easy would it be to throw me on the bed. Would he use magic or his arms? 

My eyes trail to the very thing sliding through my mind. His arms flex while he cleans up the space. How much strength-

“Y/N!” Yeonjun has an eyebrow raised and my face heats. Caught red-handed. 

“Did you say something?”

”Something on your mind?” He asks. I shake my head a bit too quickly. 

“That book . . .” I point back to the one he is still carrying. “Has it worked for you?” 

He looks at the book then back to me. 

“Why?” 

“None of your business,” I argue. 

“If you want information, then I’d say it is my business,” his arms cross, keeping the book guarded with his biceps, the ones I couldn’t keep my eyes off of earlier, and am struggling to keep my eyes off of now. 

I hesitate, but ultimately find myself agreeing.

”It’s been tough the past couple of years. Love hasn’t been easy and I don’t plan on staying here. A way out of here is marriage,” I confess.  Marriage wasn't always my initial plan on leaving, but I recently realized that I have no money or connections to move out on my own, not yet anyway. 

His eyes flash, a bit of panic crossing his face. 

“Do you have someone in mind already?” He questions.

”No,” I sit on his bed. “I haven’t set the plan in motion, but that’s why,” my hand gestures to the book still in his hand, “I need to know if that worked out enough for you.”

A lump forms in his cheek from poking it with his tongue. He’s silent for a few moments, the book slapping against his hand, before the mattress dips beside me, his leg touching mine. 

“It hasn’t,” he confesses. “But I haven’t gotten a chance to try it on someone,” his fingers fidget with the cover of the book. 

“You have to try!” I urge. 

“Why do you care?”

“I have to know if it works.”

“And who would you use it on?” his fingers stop playing with it and he looks up to finally meet my eyes. 

I gasp, his gaze taking me off guard. There’s an intense feeling behind those eyes but I can’t place it. 

“Well, I-I haven’t thought about it m-”

“How would you use it, if you don’t know who to use it on?” He searches my face. There’s something he’s not telling me - something I’m not sure I want to know. 

“I’ll tell you, if you tell me who you plan to use it on.” He flinches at my proposal, his eyelashes fluttering. “It’s only fair. You have the book for a reason, so who is it?” I move my leg so that my legs are on the bed between us.

He clears his throat. 

I’m picturing the garden, his face when he told me found someone. 

Your father told me I shouldn’t approach you, but I saw it as a challenge, was what he said. Was the book meant for me? I was hoping we could have changed the subject back to Lye, but it seems that’s not going to be possible with the track we’re on - the track that leads to him possibly confessing he harbors feelings for me. 

“Before you say anything else,” I say, “Tell me. Did my father really restrict you from  chasing after me?” 

“Y/N-”

“Please.” I cringe internally at the way my voice is meek. 

“Yes,” he confesses. 

“Why?” 

“We should talk about it tomorrow,” his hand raises to rub two fingers on the sides of his head. 

“Swear it,” I demand. He sighs, looking up at me. His face contorts, ready to protest, but the same features relax.

“I swear.” 

***

“How did you do that so easily?” I cry at the flower in Yeonjun’s fist. The same flower was a rock halfway buried in the sand a minute ago. The waves crash against the shore, the ocean luring me with its sounds to drop this magic practice and jump in the waters. 

The place is barren with not a soul around but the crabs that creep through the sands every once in a while, and there isn’t a single tree around at risk of burning from my oh-so-spectacular magic skills.

Yeonjun laughs. There have been few times I’ve gotten to hear Yeonjun’s genuine laugh. It’s one from his chest and vibrates in my bones. So I take this one into my memory and lock it in. 

The same image of him laughing replays in my head once, twice, before I start wondering when I started to care. Before, I would have never given his laugh or the idea of him being happy a second thought unless it was out of jealousy that he was sharing it with my father. However, even then, his smile didn’t spread as wide, his laugh not as deep. It’s relieving and terrifying at the same time. 

He takes the sunflower dancing between his fingers and tips the top of it toward me. I look at the flower then back to his face.

“For you.” I take his words in, first analyzing them. There is no teasing tone, or hint that he has trapped the flower to prick me. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to pursue me,” I raise an eyebrow, laying a tentative finger onto the stem. 

“I never said this was a romantic gesture,” he smirks, a slight tilt of his head. 

My jaw clenches and I take the flower and sniff the petals, hoping it will hide the flames rising from my neck to my cheeks. I thank him, wondering if he could hear me over the crashing waves. I’ve never been given a flower before. 

“Remember, use your emotions,” Yeonjun spins me out of my thoughts with his new advice. “The anger inside of you, use it again.” 

“But -” I stop myself, and clear my throat. My eyes travel to the spot where multiple rocks are sitting atop and some are buried beneath the sand. I place the flower in the ground to lean on one of the boulders with the utmost care. 

I hold the rock, my grip firm and caging it in my fingers. My hand holds it out to the waters and I focus. Focus on the anger simmering whenever I look at my father. 

I try. I try hard to channel the emotion. 

“Close your eyes, envision the flower you want and take it,” his whisper pushes his breath into my ears, sending shivers to the tips of my fingers where the rock . . . is still a rock. My mind flushes every thought other than transforming this earth into life. 

I peer one of my eyes to open to peek at my hand- still a rock. 

“Damn it!” I nearly throw it to the ground. 

“Do the same thing you did when you stopped the sword. Think of your anger-”

“It wasn’t anger!” I confess. I turn to be inches from his face, causing me to reel back. My heel sticks into the sand and my stomach drops. 

“Y/N!” he calls for me before a hand wraps around my waist pulling me to him. I try not to breathe for the sake of not having my chest touch his. “You need to be more careful,” his voice is low, and his breathing is heavier - the opposite of me. His eyes travel behind me. I follow, turning my head to glance at the rock sticking out of the sand, right where my head would have landed. 

My head feels clipped when I face him again. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. His gaze drops to my lips moving. His face is the perfect angle where if I were to lean forward just a touch-

Yeonjun pulls me to stabilize my body back in the sand. 

“What did you mean it wasn’t anger?” he asks. 

I purse my lips. I was hoping he would have forgotten about that. 

“When I tried using my father to stop the sword, it didn’t work, but,” I avoid eye contact with him as I say, “I saw Lye was aiming for you. He was going to kill you. I was afraid you would die and it would be all my fault.” I let the words slip out. Letting Yeonjun know I care for him was not on my agenda for the day. 

“Fear. That’s what must have helped you,” his tone is very matter of fact, as if there could be no other answer. 

“Yes. Fear. But there is no risk of you dying while I am shapeshifting this rock into a flower.”

“There doesn’t need to be. All you have to do is put yourself back there- in that moment where you realized I was going to die.” 

I gasp. I do imagine the sword piercing him, but for a second before I shut that out of my mind. 

“Stop it. Don’t say anything that preposterous again! Nature has ears and has a funny way of making things come true.”

“Ha! If that were true you would-” the air freezes as he does. A cough rumbles his throat and up to his mouth that opens.

“If you say anything other than what you were going to finish that sentence with, I’m afraid I’m not interested in hearing it.” Please, finish the sentence! I thought. Whatever it was, was personal. 

“You don’t want me to finish it,” he challenged with a smirk on his face. 

I tell myself I don’t have any clue what he was going to say, but then I’d be lying to myself. The gleam in his eye gives me a hint to what it is, but I have an inkling it will sound better coming from him. 

“Please,” I whisper. “Finish it.” 

HIs smirk is gone and his eyelashes flutter, noticing my desperation. 

“If that were true, I would . . .” I start for him, taking a step forward at the same time has an intake of breath. “Yeonjun?” I urge. 

“If that were true, you would be naked on this very same beach, wind sneaking sand into your mouth because it’s open from moaning my name.” 

My eyes widen at his revelations. I wasn’t prepared for the bit of detail. Did he think about this often? 

His hooded eyes watch me for my next move despite myself not knowing my next move. 

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asks.

“Why? Why me? Of all the girls you could have and you choose to chase me and now of all times. I want to know why.” The thought of him wanting me as a way to spite my father is one that continues to tickle my brain. 

He’s not affected by my question. 

“I’ve always had my eye on you. You’re the reason I found your family in the first place,” he says. I’m slapped back into reality and away from my vision of lust. “When I was driven away by Lye, I naturally ended up on the streets. You and your father were in the same place I was - the only difference is I was in the back of the restaurant and you were in it.”

“You-” I realize. 

***

“There’s something you and I need to discuss, Y/N,” my father says before taking a bite out of his cheesecake.

“Father, I would swear this is the fifth time you’ve wanted to discuss the rules before I go to Key Mage,” I laugh, not in the mood for another lecture. 

“You’re not going to Key Mage,” his words cause time to freeze, the piece of cheesecake not too far from my mouth before I set it back on the plate. 

“You promised . . .” I keep my tone in check, not wanting to feel the anger rising. “You said I would get the chance to learn magic and now you’re taking it away?” 

“I’ve decided it simply isn’t best,” his voice has no emotion. No regret. No remorse.

“You can’t keep me away from it forever!” I slam the napkin on the table, allowing the small bit of anger release. “My mother may have died as a result of magic, but she wouldn’t have wanted this!” I hiss before leaving the restaurant, my father’s calls drawing eyes to me. 

Soon enough, the stifling air is replaced with that of the city and its dark sky. 

Tears sting my eyes, but there are too many people around, so I make an escape into the alley letting the dark protect me. I don’t get the chance to let my tears fall when I hear grunting only a few feet away. 

I look further into the alley to see the silhouette of a man standing over another. 

“Take,” he kicks him, earning another grunt, “that hideous magic of yours elsewhere!” Another kick. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” I push the man back. “What do you think you’re doing?” With the bit of light under the moon, I notice the man’s crooked grimace. 

“You clearly don’t know what this is, lady,” the man says. I’ve decided to tune out his hatred when I see the man whom he was kicking has blood dripping down the side of his mouth. He’s awake, but has injuries all over. “He has magic. He doesn’t belong here,” the man behind me continues to spit. 

I pay him no mind, only running my fingers through the bloodied man’s hair. There is no perfect way to describe how he looks at me. Confusion, relief, and exhaustion are written all over his face. 

“You’re okay,” I whisper. 

“Lady, you want to keep him as a pet? Be my guest. But when he brings hell and bad luck to you, don’t say nobody warned ya’,” he leaves me with his oh-so-great wisdom before leaving me and the man alone. 

“Why were you out here?” I ask, examining some of the cuts on his head. He moves to sit up against the wall while I continue to look at his state. 

He says nothing yet, but plays with a box sitting next to him. His finger play with the top enough for me to peek at some rice, half eaten. 

“You’re looking for food,” I conclude out loud. His nose scrunches and his gaze avoids mine, neither confirming or denying - not with words anyway. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him, heading back into the restaurant where my father was silently finishing his cake. 

The rest of the evening was spent with quiet glances between us, before I finally found an opportunity to bring a dessert back to the man in the alley.

***

“I haven’t forgotten about you, Y/N,” Yeonjun’s thumb grazes my bottom lip. “I followed you and your father that night home. I meant to knock on your door the very same night, but when you arrived, I heard an argument about Key Mage Academy. I heard you were willing to learn, but that your father denied you.” 

The anger I felt the night he told me I wasn’t going hasn’t died down. I can feel it now. 

“My intention was always to approach you first. But your father . . . he caught me trying to sneak up to your window,” he laughs, fondly I should add. “I was using magic to balance chairs on top of one another. Now that I think about it, should’ve used a ladder instead,” he continues. I smile at that. “He recruited me. ‘Said I would have a home to come home to, a place to practice magic, and that my job was to protect you from the people in town who know about your family and the ones in town who remember your mother, but my interactions with you would be limited. Was it hell that the beautiful woman who took care of me was out of reach? Of course,” his eyes are not meeting mine, his thoughts further away than this moment, “but you were closer than before. The part I hadn’t anticipated,” his eyes come back to mine, “was you so passionately hating me. You didn’t even remember me.” 

“To be fair, you were in different attire and you had a new aura to you from when my father introduced the two of us. I could hardly recognize you,” I pluck at the more luxurious clothing sitting on him. 

“I guess after that, you couldn’t recognize me through your rage,” the hand still caressing my face, moves to my waist, where he yanks me closer. “How strong is your anger now, Y/N?” 

My mouth feels dry when his eyes lock into mine. I’m convinced not even an explosion can pull this man’s gaze away. 

“I’d say my anger has disappeared now,” I whisper. My heart feels like it’s ready to jump from my chest when he leans in closer. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” his sentence ends with his lips pressed against mine. I’ve never seen or heard of Yeonjun with another woman, so I’m shocked when I find he is an amazing kisser. Our lips mold together perfectly. It doesn’t feel rushed or sloppy as I rest my hands comfortably on his neck. It’s magical. 

Tingling spreads through my whole body. Not the kind that people typically describe when it comes to a kiss - one rooted from nerves, excitement, or lust - this is different. It is literal magic. Wisps of energy and emotion mix between us and it’s more addicting than the desire that I have for Yeonjun. 

He signals that he can feel it too when he groans into my mouth. 

“Y/N,” he sighs. We break away long enough to see the gold in his eyes. 

“Your eyes,” I warn. 

“They’re gold, aren’t they?” his hand comes up to caress my face as I nod. “So are yours,” he tells me. 

“What does it mean?” I ask, trying to find my own meaning in his eyes, staring deep in the flecks shimmering. 

“Our magic was made for each other. Here,” he pulls away from me and it’s a loss for my arms. He bends down to sit in the sand and I follow him. The same rock I dropped earlier is the one he hands to me. “Try turning it into a flower now, but focus,” he takes my hand and pulls me to lean into him, “on this,” he kisses me again, this time with a little more hunger, a little more bite, but I can still feel the magic flowing through us. 

“Yeonjun,” I sigh between kisses, his fist tightens on my hair at the back of my neck. 

“Change it,” he demands. Pulling me even closer to where the rock is the last thing on my mind and I choose to position both of my legs on either side of him. “Change the rock, Y/N,” his voice sounds more pleading now as he moves to make ministrations on my neck. 

“I can’t focus-”

“You can,” his hips move up into me and my mouth pries open in a moan. I thank everything on this earth that there is no one around. 

“You’re making it very difficult,” I tell him. Even with the round earth in my hand, I’m able to run both my hands into his hair and down his skin. Every inch is filled with energy and light. 

“I would lose a lot of confidence if I wasn’t,” he chuckles into my neck. “Now change it,” I squeal when he rolls us over, my back in the sand. 

“Oh,” is all I say when he tugs at his shirt, pulling it off. “Are you sure this is a good place to - mmm!” my worries are suppressed by his lips again, but I can’t pretend that him being on top doesn’t bother me. I use my strength (with the help of a bit of magic) to roll us again however, this time I am the one in control. 

We switch roles when I start to kiss up his neck, rewarding me with a sigh that escapes his lips. 

“You think this is your moment?” I whisper, ‘You’ve had enough moments taken from me, don’t you think?” 

“I didn’t mean-”

“Sh,” my thumb grazes his lips, “You’ve done enough,” and suddenly there is no longer a rock in my hand, but something much more useful. My hands graze his sides as I slide them to his arms, pulling them upwards. “You may not know it, Yeonjun, but you  have been controlling many aspects of my life - I’m at least going to get the chance to control this one.”

His hands are together above his head when I take the rope and tie it around them. 

“Y/N, wait-”

“Relax. If you’re good, I might let you out of them,” I tease him, my smile touching his lips. He’s hesitant for a moment, but his muscles finally relax. “You’ve put me through quite a bit when it came to us practicing magic. Should I put you through some trials as well?” 

“If you were good at things like turning a rock into a flower, maybe I wouldn’t have to put you through so many trials,” he argues. I should be taking offense, but the smirk on his face tells me it’s a tactic to get his control back. 

“You’ve got a big mouth for someone who is tied up,” my nails graze his abdomen and up to his chest, his breaths grow heavier, forcing his chest to push into mine. “Stay,” I instruct, before lifting myself up and standing to drag my undergarments down my legs beneath my dress. His eyes follow my movement. 

“Was that supposed to be tempting?” he asks, a tick in his voice. 

“It worked, didn’t it? Or are you trying to break out of your restraints to run away?” I’m about to sit on his lap when he stops me by clearing his throat. 

“We should be even shouldn’t we?” he eyes the same pants with a very noticeable bulge. 

“I have your permission?” I ask. As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I know it was a mistake. I’ve given him some of the control back and he knows it the moment I do by the way his lips pull up in a tug. 

“Is that even a question right now?” he responds. It’s difficult to comprehend how Yeonjun could go from my worst enemy to him asking me to take his pants off on the beach. 

Nonetheless, I answer to his request and loosen his buckle to drag them down. It’s a bit of a struggle at first, but my new magic allows me to pull them off effortlessly exposing his bare skin and the very thing causing the tent shape. 

“You’re doing so well with your magic,” his soft tone shoots straight to my stomach as it flips, “but I don’t want anymore of that,” he looks down then back up.

“What is it that you want?” My core rests on his bare skin, spreading my wetness up and down his length. 

He winces at the new touch, “Y/N,” he groans. “You know what I want,” he’s gasping for it at this point. 

“You haven’t even said “Please”,” I push, continuing to move. He doesn’t first, his jaw clenched while he watches me. “Yeonjun,” I moan before stopping. 

“Please,” he immediately gasps.

I slide over him again, this time also leaning down and kissing him. I can feel the magic coursing through the both of us again, and it’s all I need to sit up and hover over him. His eyes swirl with gold as he watches me lift the skirt of my dress and slide him into me. 

His name is sweet on my tongue and the feeling is heavenly.

I bounce on him while I spot his arms struggling in the rope. 

“Y/N,” he gasps when my nails start to dig into his chest, “Y/N, please let me out of this rope, please,” his words are choppy, but I understand what he wants - however, I won’t give that control. He realizes this when I shake my head, slow. 

My mind is starting to melt and all I can see is Yeonjun and the sand underneath him. I clench around him and slow down my movements for the sole reason of torturing him. I wouldn’t be able to get tired with the magic keeping me up. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters. Smoke emerges from the rope around his hands and, in a flash, Yeonjun is able to break free and sand kicks up in a flurry when he flips us and my back is in the sand again. 

I don’t have a chance to scold him when he’s inside me again. I was afraid to loosen the leash and let him take charge, but knowing I’ve tortured him enough to burn the rope is enough satisfaction. He doesn’t let my womanhood stay under my clothing enough and I feel the sea breeze touching every inch. 

All of the feeling starts to overwhelm me but not in a way that stresses me, instead in a way where my brain is starting to malfunction. My concerns about control wither away when he gasps my name into my ear. 

My nails dig into Yeonjun one more time as he drives me to the edge where he meets me in bliss. 

His body weight collapses onto me and we stay breathing together until we’re sick of the sand and the ocean. 

***

Yeonjun and I spend the evening together in my room. He suggested his in the beginning, but considering my father never comes in to check on me, I knew my more decorated bedroom would be the more stealthy option. 

He makes love to me two more times before we relax into our pillow talk session. My arm rests on his middle and our legs tangle. 

“Could you burn through the rope the whole time?” I throw the question into the dark. 

“Yes, but I wanted to indulge you. For a bit anyway,” I can hear the smirk on his face. 

“Don’t worry. I just wanted you to wriggle a bit for the torture yuo’ve caused throughout the years.”

He doesn’t say anything to that at first. 

“Do you still think I am your enemy, Y/N?”

“Of course not! You’ve done the one thing my father could never do - you told me the truth and you showed me how to use magic,” I cuddle closer to him when I’m reminded of the favor he has done for me. 

“Which . . . “ he sits up, the absence of his warmth disappointing, “I have a gift for you.” 

In one hand he holds a candle that he lights with his finger, and in the other hand he holds a folded piece of paper. I recognize the symbol stamped on the front. 

“Wait. Is that-?” 

“From Key Mage? Absolutely,” he kisses my cheek and hands it over to me. “Open it.”

“But how did you know?”

Yeonjun sets the candle onto the bedside table.

“You and your father had a few loud arguments for a few weeks while I was . . . creeping around,” he explains. I scoff and start to rip the letter open. “I used the excuse with your father that it was me who was applying, instead I filled it out with your information. I only slightly lied about your magical abilities at the time, but now,” he moves down to my neck, “you’ve accomplished even more than that.” 

All I have to read are the words “You’ve been accepted,” and it’s enough to throw myself onto Yeonjun again, laughter bubbling up and into his mouth.

“Thank you. Thank you!”

“All I did was move pen on paper-”

“No.” I stop him. “You did more than that. You’re the first person in years to believe in me.”

“Pretty soon your father will too.”

I picture my father being proud of me and sitting in the audience while I’m surrounded by people who are like me and walking the stage with me. I see Yeonjun there with a smile on his face. Suddenly my father is an option. It would be nice to have him during my success, but I realize I have to let his opinion go until he’s ready. 

“I don’t care what he thinks anymore. I don’t even care that he wanted to keep us from interacting. I’m ready to move on from this house and this life. Just promise you’ll keep teaching me spells from that book you got because of me.”

“I never said it was because of you.”

“You didn’t have to. I saw a few of the notes in there,” I chuckle. “‘Y/N might like this one’ you wrote under the transformation into a flower spell. ‘This could benefit me when we finally f’- mmm!” He interrupts me with a rough kiss. 

“I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve for you. A lot more than what was in that book.” 

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦: 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 ★ || han j.s

★ summary: it's your first SKZ CODE episode with the boys as their newest member. jyp decided to add you to stray kids after he saw your audition. he felt that you were the thing that stray kids was missing, and he pushed you to debut immediately. things start out awkwardly, and you feel so left out. but as you eat fried clams with the boys,, they start to very slowly warm up to you. maybe it would have been a good idea to mention you are deathly afraid of pools and various bodies of water.

★ characters: bang chan, lee know, changbin, y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), hyunjin, han, felix, seungmin, i.n

★ warnings: based off of the most recent skz code episodes where they visit the mud flaps, it's gonna be a little awkward at first, skz ignore y/n (not on purpose, it's just a little new for them), reader is afraid of water and nearly drowns, changbin pushes reader into the water (pls don't hate me for that), he apologizes tho, han and felix being best boys, let me know if i forgot anything

★ word count: 3.8K (3,867)

★ binnie's thoughts: my ride or die gave me the genius idea to write a fic based off the most recent skz episodes, and i just had to deliver

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

You feel the need to throw up your breakfast– and you would be totally okay with it. It would give you an excuse to not show up for filming. This wasn’t really how you expected your idol life to be. You thought you would be put into a group that was on its way to debuting. Not joining a group that already debuted and is at the top of its career. 

Stray Kids proved themselves that they are still as successful with eight members rather than the original nine. After the situation with Woojin, Stray Kids went off like a rocket, pushing their way up the charts and blowing the competition out of the park. You admire that about them, and you wish to be part of a successful group just like that. 

It seems that you really do get what you wish for.

JYP made sure you were ready to become a member of Stray Kids. You have your own SKZOO character, a cow mixed with a koala named Mookie– and he released some photos of you from a photoshoot. You already have a set position in the group, based on your audition video. You’re the ace, the all-rounder, the one to do it all. You can’t help but feel under pressure with that title. You’re expected to sing, rap, dance, and look exceptionally stunning all at the same time, and the thought of that alone gives you the shakes. 

The eight males were really confused when Chan was called into a meeting with JYP himself. They thought their precious leader was in trouble for something. The remaining seven of them paced around their dorm, some of them biting their nails as they waited for Chan to get back. Felix started to tear up thinking they were going to disband. With a little consolation from his favorite hyung, Changbin, he was able to calm down enough to stop his tears. 

When Chan returned to them, his expression was unclear to them. Sometimes they can predict what’s wrong just by the way Chan’s face is twisted up, but for the first time in a while, they were stumped. 

Chan sat down with his hands propped up under his chin. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips drawn in a straight line. Then he spoke up. 

“JYP is adding someone to the group.” 

You could hear a pin drop in the room. No one knew what to say. What could they say? Their entire world was just flipped upside down. They had spent years getting used to being a group of eight, now they have to let a complete stranger into their close-knit family? 

Felix was the first to speak up, and everyone turned their attention to him. He gulped before speaking, “Do we know who it is? When are they joining?” the blonde haired male couldn’t stop the shakiness of his voice as he looked at Chan. 

“Well, JYP told me that he’s been a trainee for a few years now. JYP said he doesn’t fit into any of his other groups, and he truly believes the guy fits our group the most.” Chan said with a deep sigh falling from his lips as he took a moment to let the news sink in. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea. What if he turns out to be like…” A pause. “You-know-who?” Everyone could feel the air being sucked out of the room after Jeongin spoke. 

It was something to consider. The entire situation with Woojin was nearly career-ending for them. The alleged actions of just one person nearly ruined everything for them. 

“No. JYP wouldn’t do that to us. I won’t allow anyone to hurt us like he did. Not again.” Chan says, looking at each and every one of his brothers. They could tell he was serious, his brows were furrowed and there wasn’t a single hint of amusement on his face. 

The boys all shared a group hug, and for a second, the impending anxiety of adding someone to their family was gone. 

Of course, it would only last for a short time. 

Which brings us to the present. You are riding in a van separate from the other members, on your way to the first filming location. You had filmed a little introduction video before you got onto the bus, and you were told it would play before the actual SKZ CODE video started. You had tried to not appear nervous, your hand gripping your jeans tightly out of the camera's view. You put on a gentle smile as you introduced yourself, hoping to make a good enough impression. 

You settle down in the van, holding Mookie in your arms as you buckle in. You hope they’ll accept you, because you have worked your ass off to debut. You may not be debuting how you had hoped to, but at this point you shall settle with whatever is given to you. 

You place your headphones on your head, leaning your head on the window as you play songs from the playlist you use when you sleep. You look out the window at the foggy sky and you realize the weather describes your mental state perfectly at this very moment. Dark. Quiet. Foggy and hard to see through. You sigh once again as the van starts moving. Hopefully this goes smoothly.

The Stray Kids boys are talking to each other while the cameras are off, and your name finds its way into the conversation once again. The air shifts awkwardly, the eight of them still in disbelief that a total stranger is being added to their group. 

They are looking at your headshots on Hyunjin’s phone, each and every one of them are impressed by your good looks. The expression on your face is intimidating, the lights casting shadows that dance along your smooth skin. They take in every single feature–your soft freckles that litter your cheeks and forehead, the little beauty mark on the tip of your nose, and the other beauty mark on your bottom lip. They can’t deny the fact that you are really attractive, you don’t look like the typical idol. 

Felix wonders if you two will bond over the fact that you both have freckles, or the fact that you’re both from different countries. Do you struggle with Korean like he does, or are you fluent like Chan? Do you have a preference for English or Korean? He wonders where you’re from, what was it like growing up for you? He feels a little bit of excitement bubbling in his chest at the idea of meeting someone who is similar to him. JYP told them a bit about you, and they were surprised to find out that you were from The United States. 

“He’s really attractive, I can’t deny it,” Lee Know speaks up from his spot, and he earns a series of agreements from everyone else. “And he looks like a sweet guy, I think we’re overthinking this entire situation.”

Chan hums, his expression still unreadable. He’s still on the fence about this, and he knows that he doesn’t really have a say in the situation. He wishes he did, because he would reject you immediately. He truly believes that Stray Kids are just fine as eight, not nine. And your position is the ace? Last time he checked, Han was their ace. They don’t need another one, Han does an amazing job as the ace of Stray Kids. Chan just hopes that Stay will be accepting.

The boys arrive before you do. They excitedly make their way to the mud flaps, each of them joking around with each other as the cameras roll. They laugh as Changbin chases Hyunjin, spouting something about romance. A few of them get closer to the mud flaps, while the others stick behind, watching fondly. They hear the door of a vehicle shut and they all whip their heads to look behind them. 

You start walking towards the eight males, Mookie is your clutches as you feel yourself start to sweat. You’re so nervous that you’re sweating while it’s cold outside. Your red-dyed hair is sticking up on one side–from laying your head on the van window–and your gray cardigan is slipping off your wide shoulders. You feel the cameras on you as you walk closer to your new bandmates. 

Once you deem yourself close enough for them all to hear you, you bow towards them. “Hello. My name is Lim Y/N, it’s nice to properly meet you all,” you say as you try to keep your voice from sounding so shaky. Your hands are clammy and wet with sweat. “I hope we can all get along, thank you again.” You stand up straight and take in their expressions.

Chan motions for everyone to get in line to do their group introduction. They all bow to you and introduce themselves one by one. You smile softly at them despite the awkwardness that sits heavily in the air. 

“So, uhm, should we go eat fried clams, now?” Changbin says, breaking the silence and awkward eye shifting. Chan agrees and they all retreat to their van, leaving you behind. 

You try to not let it get to you as you walk to your van. You squeeze Mookie’s plushy body as you take a few deep breaths. 

Once you all arrive at the restaurant, you sit at the table with Chan, Felix, Lee Know, and Han. You wait for them to get whatever food they want before you start grabbing some for yourself. When you take that first bite, you light up at how tasty it is. 

You’re no stranger to Korean cuisine, you did end up living with your grandma from the age of fourteen to your current age of twenty-three. When you were younger, you had no knowledge of your Korean heritage. Of course you knew your father was Korean and was born in South Korea, but ultimately you knew little to nothing about what it meant to be half-Korean. So, after some long conversations with your mother and father, they convinced you to move in with your grandma in Daejoon, South Korea. You were super excited, bright-eyed and itching for a change. At first it was a little difficult to adjust. You barely knew the language– you only knew a few phrases that helped you get around, but that was it. You are grateful that you have the ability to retain information quickly, and it’s all thanks to your mother. She’s a successful professor at a high-end college where she teaches psychology in Georgia.

“Wah, I’ve never had fried clams before. At least not any like this,” You say a little quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Too bad everyone heard you. 

Felix pipes up after he finishes chewing his food. “You haven’t? Did you just move to Korea or have you been here for a while?” He asks and you notice how genuine he sounds. Like he’s interested in knowing more about you. It makes your heart beat fast in a good way.

“I was born in Georgia, in the US. But I moved to Daejoon when I turned fourteen, and I’ve been here ever since.” You told him, noticing that the others were also tuning in to what you’re saying. You earn a few hums of acknowledgement as everyone continues eating. 

“That’s pretty cool, looks like we have something in common.” Felix says, flashing you his sweet smile that makes you want to smile back. “You probably already know this, but I was born in another country. So was Chan hyung.”

You hum and nod as you chew your food, covering your mouth before you speak. “Yeah, I know quite a bit about you guys. You’re pretty famous all over.” You say with a soft laugh as you shake your head to move your fringe out of your eyes. 

Han finds himself staring at you while you talk. He likes the way your voice sounds when you speak, you have this smooth voice that feels like the softest silk on freshly lotioned skin. To Han, you look way better in person than in the pictures. Your skin is littered in light freckles, and the beauty marks on your face are so much more noticeable. He wonders what you sound like when you speak English. Is your voice more high pitched, low pitched, or is it the same? He feels an elbow jab his side and he fights the urge to screech like a crow. Damn Chan and his super parent senses.

The nine of you all finish eating and you’re cracking up at Felix and Jeongin when they go to feed the seagulls. You take videos of Seungmin trying to fight the birds, protecting Felix and Jeongin. You also take a few pictures of yourself near the mud flaps, and Felix ends up taking a few with you. You can tell he will become close to you pretty fast.

You all arrive at the house you’ll be staying at for two days and you’re all amazed by it. You all walk around and then you discover the basement. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before– a karaoke machine, a nice pool table, and some arcade games. You watch as everyone rushes to play and sing. You don’t really see where you fit in, so you sit down and watch. You watch as they joke around and laugh. You listen to the inside jokes they have between each other. It makes your heart feel heavy knowing that you’ll possibly never be on the same level as them. They’ve been through so many ups and downs as a group, you will never understand what that’s like. 

You try to distract yourself with your phone, hoping that will prevent you from spiraling and crying in front of them. That would be pretty embarrassing on your part. You would hate to seem like someone who gets upset when he isn’t included, so you feel that a distraction is the best option. 

Felix is playing ping pong with Seungmin, and Seungmin notices that Felix keeps looking back at you. He’s starting to get a little annoyed that Felix isn’t paying attention to their very important game, so he huffs. 

“Hyung, pay attention! I’m so close to winning!” Seungmin whines, catching Felix’s attention. Felix apologizes and their game continues. One again, Felix misses the small white ball heading towards his side of the table. Seungmin knows it’s a point for him, but Felix didn’t even try to hit it. 

Seungmin lets out an annoyed groan and he looks to see where Felix is so focused on. It’s you. Seungmin takes a good look at you and he notices the look on your face. Longing. 

Hyung, invite him to play with you. We can continue our game later, I wanna go check out the rooms.” Seungmin says and Felix whips his head towards him. 

“Are you sure, Min? You don’t mind?” Felix asks, feeling bad for getting so distracted that he’s ruining the good time Seungmin is having. 

Seungmin nods and sets his paddle down. “Yeah. Just be prepared for me to kick your ass later.” Seungmin makes sure the cameras don’t pick up his vulgar language before he walks upstairs to check out the rooms.

Felix walks over to you, narrowly dodging Lee Know’s elbow that was so close to knocking him upside his head. Lee Know tends to get a little intense when he gets in the groove.

“Hey, Y/N hyung, do you wanna play some ping pong with me? Seungmin ditched me because he was losing so badly.” Felix says with a laugh. 

You look up when you hear someone talking to you in English. It honestly caught you off guard. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken English, you hope you still remember how to speak it (you’re a little dramatic, you get it from your dad–). 

“You– you want me to play with you?” You try not to sound too shocked, but you deem it to be a little too late for that. 

“Yeah, are you a sore loser like Seungmin, or are you a good sport when you lose?” Felix asks and you tut at him with a smirk. 

“Who said I was going to lose?” You retort back with your eyebrow cocked at him. Felix just laughs at you. 

“I’ll have you know I’m the best ping pong player out of all the guys.” Felix says, his hands on his hips in a victory pose. 

You stand up and start walking towards the ping pong table. “We’ll see about that, now won’t we?” you respond and pick up the paddle that Seungmin was once holding. You hunker down a bit, your eyes not leaving Felix’s form for a second. Poor Mookie sits abandoned on the seat near the karaoke machine. 

After everyone plays around for a bit, Seungmin comes downstairs whining about how he wants to swim. You freeze at the mentions of swimming, and your eyes shift around nervously. Everyone starts going to change, and you hesitate. Lee Know notices your hesitance, and he tilts his head at you. 

“Are you not coming? We’re gonna play some pool games. It’ll be fun.” He says, and you nod before you could stop yourself. 

“Yeah! I’m coming, don’t worry, hyung.” You smile at him as you follow behind him upstairs. You bite your fingernails anxiously at the idea of getting in the water. It sucks that one bad experience can completely ruin something for you. 

You get changed and you meet the others outside where the pool is. You stare at the deep blue water, your heart racing. You know you shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge, you could easily slip and fall in. You don’t want to drown on camera, much less in front of your groupmates. You feel a pair of hands on your back as they shove you forward, your arms and legs flailing as you fall into the water. 

The water isn’t deep, but that doesn’t matter to you. You thrash in the water, trying to get your head above the water. You panic, inhaling a large amount of water. You can’t breathe, your arms and legs are starting to hurt, and you just want out of the damn water. As you keep thrashing, you feel your body being pulled up and out of the water. 

Chan heaves you into a pool chair, his hands patting your back to help you spit out the water you inhaled. You cough as water spills from your mouth. Your chest and throat burns. You can feel your entire body shaking with fear. You start wheezing as you hug your knees, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you. You feel so embarrassed, you can’t do anything but cry. You hear someone telling the staff to turn off the cameras, and you feel a warm towel being placed on your tense shoulders. 

“Let me take him upstairs to get changed. I think it’s best if he doesn’t play volleyball with us.” Han says, his hand placed on your shoulder as he rubs comforting circles. Chan simply nods and tells the staff to resume filming when Han gets back from helping you get calmed down and dried off. 

Felix rushes over with something in his hand. Mookie. You look up at the blonde male, thanking him with your eyes. You take Mookie from him, following Han into the house. He guides you upstairs and sits you on the bed. 

“Can I look through your suitcase to get you some clean clothes?” He asks and you simply nod at him, sniffling. You watch as he opens your suitcase, rummaging through it. He pulls some clothes out and he guides you to the bathroom to change. 

You get changed and you shuffle out of the bathroom, a sad pout on your face. Han can’t help but think about how adorable you look. You might be older and taller than him, but you just look so soft. He feels his heart pick up pace as he stares. He should probably get back to the others to resume filming, but his feet won’t move. 

“Han, you should probably go back..” You say, your voice trailing off as you catch him staring at you. You feel shy under his gaze, no one’s ever looked at you like he’s looking at you right now. His eyes hold all emotions of attraction, the pools of deep brown staring into your own E/C eyes. You feel your ears get warm as you fight the goofy smile trying to make its way onto your face. 

“Right– sorry, uh.” He stutters, his neck turning a nice shade of deep red. He shakes his head, his ashy gray hair moving with his head. “Just– just let me know if you need anything, yeah? That must’ve been scary for you.” 

You nod, your voice raspy from coughing so much. “Yeah.. I don’t really like pools or large bodies of water, something happened when I was younger.” you explain softly, avoiding his concerned gaze. 

“I get it. I’m not the best swimmer, so I kind of see where you’re coming from.” Han says, trying to give some comfort, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. 

You simply give him a little smile, letting him know that you appreciate his comfort. You place your hand on top of his and you get an idea. 

“How about I play referee and scorekeeper for the volleyball game? I’ll keep my distance from the water and I won’t be missing out,”  you offer, and Han nods with a smile. 

“I think that’s a pretty smart idea, hyung,” he says, but he gives you a stern look. “Are you completely sure, though? Because you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

You hum and nod at him. He nods in response and the two of you walk back to the pool. 

Once you get outside, you’re being crushed by a pair of muscular arms. A string of apologies fall from Changbin’s mouth as he squeezes the life out of you. You can’t help but laugh at the shorter male.

“Hyung, I’m okay. You didn’t know that I’m afraid of water. I should apologize to you because I didn’t tell you beforehand.” You say, hoping to make the rapper feel better and less guilty. 

Changbin looks up at you, pouting. He lets you go and apologizes one more time. You wave him off and you pull up a pool chair near the middle of the edge of the pool. 

“Are you guys ready to play some volleyball?” You ask, earning a round of cheers from the males. You watch as they all hop into the water on their respective sides. You toss the ball into the water and whistle sharply, indicating the beginning of the game. You watch as they play, the cameras filming every second. 

You had your doubts about joining this group, but you think this could work out nicely. Let’s just hope it remains that way. 

[hypnodrea]

songs/artists i’d force TWST Housewardens to listen to

— Riddle Rosehearts aka Rizzle Smoulderheart

Mans would probably be like, making me study or some shit, hopefully helping me or just around me in general. And I just whip out the nasty ass phone Daddy Crowley gave me and boot up whatever version of Spotify there and bat my eyes at Riddle saying, “Oh, music helps me focus more when studying!” When we all know that is a full on lie.

So he would be around or something and I would just start blasting the most inappropriate music ever. Probably something like Man Areas or Squidwards Nose. One of those, y’know? Just cause I think it’d be funny seeing him get all red and angry, like a raspberry.

He’d prolly yell “Off with your head” at me but that would be useless because I’m magic-less

— Leona Kingscholar aka Mr. Worldwide

Me, personally, me, personally, I’d be rockin’ to take a nap with this homie. He’d prolly hate it, but I would! And y’see, I’d come up with some bullshit that like, music helps with dreams or some shit, just anything to convince him to let me play a playlist as he sleeps.

And it’d be full of Tyler the Creator. But specifically the genre of his songs like, See You Again, What a Day, Earfquake, BEST INTEREST, songs of his like those. Now I think Leona would probably like Tyler, idk, they both have them vibes and them two my favorite men.

But yeah, I’d make him listen to Tyler, he seems like he would like at least one or two songs of his, and I sure as hell know that I would be down on my knees just to hear him sing a song.

— Azul Ashengrotto aka ‘Baka Tako’

I would literally sell my soul to him just to make him listen to every single FNAF song. It has to be FNAF. I want to get at least two or three stuck in his head, so he feels cringe and ashamed to admit liking the songs.

It would be so worth it though, seeing Azul all dripped up for Board Game Club (azul + idia club card when—) and just him humming like, Join Us For A Bite, and Idia slow head turning to him as he experiences flashbacks.

I’d be soulless for the rest of my life just to hear Azul singing Five Nights At Freddys, but god, wouldn’t that be a sight to see.

— Kalim Al-Asim aka the most nicest boy ever

I could not do anything mean to this boy, I would introduce him to like, Kali Uchis or Laufey. This man deserves all the pretty women music. I’d also just give him genuine song recommendations for like, parties too.

Maybe some like, Odetari type of music for like movin’ & groovin’. Definitely some Pitbull, Daddy Yankee, y’know all the good body mover ones. Songs that just make ya wanna swing your hips and drop it down white boy style.

Kalim is such a precious boy I would make it my life’s goal to give him all the classic bangers and new shit. Also Peso Pluma. No words. Just Peso.

— Vil Schoenheit aka the IT Girl

He scares me. I don’t want him calling my music taste ugly 😭 I’d get like, Rook to get him to listen to any of my recommendations. Or literally any one else but me. I’m sensitive :(

Anyways onto the songs/artists, ahhhh, probably K-pop. I like a lot of songs but I also heard that the dances are pretty sick too. So he can like, have fun with that. Maybe specifically like, Red Velvet, or like the BTS members but only their solo songs because I like them better like that.

Also giving him like, serious recommendations because I don’t want him to curse me if I made him listen to like a fucking Lorax song.

— Idia Shroud aka the loser gamer boy

I’m making him listen to every single Tom Cardy song I know. If there is any one in the goddamn school that could appreciate him, it would be Idia. And I wouldn’t go for the obvious choice of making him listen to Hatsune Miku because he has his little Fates idol group thing, and also because it would be too predictable.

Tom Cardy on the other hand, he is extremely unpredictable and I love him for that. Specifically showing Idia all the more funny and mainstream songs of Tom Cardy like Red Flags, Mixed Messages, and Perception Check.

Making him hum Perception Check as he beats the hell out of Azul on online Uno as Azul screeches and everytime he gets a +2 or +4 making him say ‘Nat 20 let’s fucking go’

— Malleus Draconia aka …who?

I think my more modern music taste would kill him, so I’d just give him the entire Nutcracker ballet to listen to because it is such a banger ballet, dude.

Or just ballets in general, I think he’d enjoy them in the background as he does whatever he does in his little Gargoyle club thingy.

Me and him when that beat drops in the Knights Dance from the Romeo and Juliet ballet.

{This is not at all supposed to be close to canon, this is just for funsies. I’ll prolly do the first years next…}

[virgoilluminati]

Hello, I just wanted to say that I love love love your page and I love how you write. It is so beautiful and deep. Belongings has me on the edge of my seat and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

Can I get a Harry Styles one shot with the prompt 23-25. I had in my head like him maybe helping the reader to stay up and look after their children because he’s always away on tour and he feels guilty he always has to miss out on their milestones. Idk I thought it would be so sweet 🥹🥹🥹❣️

Sweet Cocoa

A/N: so my original plan was to do all 3 of those prompts but then I realise I was going overboard and I much rather this fic with just prompt 23. I love this fic it’s so cute and fluffy and ahhhhhhhhh I love these imaginary children ❣️

Requests: Yes - Prompt 23 “How about something warm? It will help you sleep.”

Word Count: 2.1K

Prompt list here

——————————————————————————————

The stage lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in thunderous applause as Harry finished his concert, pouring his heart and soul into every note. With a smile on his face, he waved goodbye to his adoring fans and walked backstage, feeling a mix of elation and exhaustion. He couldn’t wait to see his wife, Y/N, and their two young children, Abel and Elliot.

Elliot, their eldest son, had Harry’s unmistakable resemblance, with his tousled brunette curls and adorable freckles that adorned his face. At four years old, he had been fortunate to experience the early years of his life with both Harry and Y/N always by his side. They treasured every moment, cherishing the precious memories they had created together.

Abel, on the other hand, arrived during a whirlwind phase in Harry’s life. She was born amidst the chaos of album creation, touring, and even Harry’s foray into the world of movies. Harry couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for missing out on most of Abel’s life and the significant milestones that shaped her early years.

For example: whilst Harry had been there to witness Elliot’s first steps, he couldn’t be there for Abel’s.

The magical spirit of Christmas filled the air as the family gathered in their cozy living room. Twinkling lights adorned the Christmas tree, casting a warm glow on the scene. Harry, Y/N, Abel, and Elliot were surrounded by their loved ones, creating a joyful atmosphere.

Amidst the festive cheer, Elliot, with his bright eyes and contagious smile, stood in the middle of the room, wobbling on his tiny feet. The excitement was palpable as Harry, holding Y/N’s hand, watched their eldest son prepare to take his first steps. It was a moment Harry had eagerly anticipated.

With a burst of courage, Elliot took a few unsteady steps, his little hands reaching out for support. The room erupted in cheers and applause, celebrating this monumental achievement. Harry’s heart swelled with pride and joy as he quickly moved closer to his son, his eyes shining with love.

“Elliot, you did it!” Harry exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. He knelt down, his arms outstretched, waiting to catch Elliot in his embrace. And just as his little boy stumbled forward, Harry scooped him up, spinning him around in a joyous dance.

Elliot’s laughter filled the room, a symphony of pure happiness that resonated in Harry’s heart. In that moment, surrounded by their loved ones, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his growing family.

However, halfway across the world, while Harry was immersed in filming his new movie, “Don’t Worry Darling,” he received an unexpected FaceTime call. With a mix of excitement and apprehension, he answered the call, only to find Y/N holding her phone and pointing it towards Abel, who was standing unsteadily on her own two feet.

Harry’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as he witnessed Abel taking her first steps. Even though he was physically distant, the surge of emotions he felt mirrored the exhilaration of that Christmas day when Elliot took his first steps.

“Abel, my love, you’re doing it!” Harry exclaimed, his voice laced with awe and pride. Despite the distance, his eyes never left his daughter as she wobbled and toddled, finding her balance with determination. He couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet pang, wishing he could be there in person to witness this milestone.

Y/N smiled warmly, her own eyes filled with a mixture of joy and understanding. “She’s been practicing so much, Harry. We wanted to share this moment with you.”

Harry’s heart swelled with love and gratitude for Y/N’s thoughtfulness. He blew a kiss through the screen, sending his love and pride to his little girl. “I’m so proud of you, Abel. Daddy loves you so much.”

As Harry closed the FaceTime call, he couldn’t help but reflect on the parallels of these two precious moments. Both Elliot and Abel had taken their first steps, marking a significant milestone in their lives. While he had missed Abel’s steps in person, he was grateful for technology that bridged the physical distance, allowing him to be present in some way.

Opening the door, Harry was greeted by the sight of Abel and Elliot, their eyes shining with excitement. They rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Daddy, you were amazing!” Abel exclaimed, her voice filled with admiration.

Harry chuckled, feeling the warmth of their love surround him. “Thank you, my little stars. But now it’s time for me to be your superhero and help Mommy, okay?”

Abel and Elliot nodded eagerly, their faces beaming with enthusiasm. They understood that Daddy was tired, but they also knew he was always there for them when they needed him the most.

As Harry stepped into the living room, he found Y/N sitting on the couch, a tired smile on her face. Her baby bump was prominent, a beautiful testament to the growing life inside her. Harry’s heart swelled with love and appreciation for the incredible woman he had married.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, making his way over to Y/N. “I’m here now, and I’m ready to help.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with gratitude, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “You don’t have to, Harry. You’ve had a long day.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch filled with tenderness. “Nothing matters more to me than you and our children. I want to be here for you, every step of the way.”

A mixture of relief and adoration washed over Y/N’s face as she realized the depth of Harry’s commitment. “Thank you, Harry. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Together, they devised a plan to pamper Y/N and alleviate any worries or guilt she had been carrying. Harry fetched a cozy blanket and helped her settle on the couch, making sure she was comfortable. Abel and Elliot scurried around, eager to assist their parents.

Elliot ran to the kitchen, returning with a tray of Y/N’s favorite snacks and a glass of water. Abel picked up her toy toolbox and declared himself “Daddy’s little helper,” ready to take on any task assigned to her.

As Y/N reclined on the couch, Harry sat beside her, his hand resting on her belly. The little kicks and flutters beneath his touch reminded him of the new life they were about to welcome into their family. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, vowing to be present for every milestone and precious moment.

Together, they watched a movie, their laughter mingling with the soothing sounds of the television. Abel and Elliot snuggled close to their parents, their eyes growing heavy with sleep.

As the movie came to an end, Y/N leaned her head against Harry’s shoulder, a peaceful smile gracing her lips. “Thank you for tonight, Harry. This means the world to me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his voice filled with sincerity. “I love you, Y/N. And I’m sorry for the moments I’ve missed. From now on, I’ll make every effort to be there, for you and our children.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love and forgiveness. “You’re already an amazing father, Harry. We’re a team, and we’ll navigate this journey together.”

In the dimly lit room, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Harry and Y/N knew that no matter the challenges they faced, their bond was unbreakable.

As the two children lay nestled on y/n, Harry’s gaze wandered over to Elliot, peacefully asleep. With a tender smile, he turned his attention back to y/n, a silent understanding passing between them. It was time to reminisce on Elliot’s birth, a story they held dear.

“I can’t believe how much Elliot has grown,” Harry whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/n nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “He’s become such an amazing young person, Harry. It feels like just yesterday.”

Harry reached out, gently clasping y/n’s hand. “I remember that fateful day vividly, my love. It started with our car breaking down, right in the midst of your contractions.”

A wistful smile graced y/n’s lips. “Talk about timing, right? I wasn’t about to let a broken-down car stop us, though. I remember hopping on that bus, holding onto you tightly as the contractions came in waves.”

Harry chuckled softly, recalling the bus ride. “You were so strong, y/n. Despite the discomfort, you never lost your focus or determination. I was in awe of you.”

Y/n squeezed Harry’s hand, gratitude shining in her eyes. “And you, Harry, you were my rock. Your unwavering support gave me the strength to keep going. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They fell into a moment of silence, their memories intertwining. The warmth of the room seemed to envelop them, creating a cocoon of love and nostalgia.

Finally, Harry spoke, his voice filled with tenderness. “Once we arrived at the hospital, everything felt like a blur. The nurses and doctors were incredible, guiding us through every step of the way.”

Harry’s voice lowered, his words carrying a hint of awe. “And then, in the midst of it all, Elliot arrived. The room filled with overwhelming joy as we held our precious baby for the first time.”

Y/n’s eyes glistened with tears of happiness. “That moment is forever etched in my heart. Seeing Elliot’s tiny face and feeling that indescribable love—it was pure magic.”

Their hands remained intertwined, their hearts connected by the profound bond they shared. In the quietude of the room, Harry and y/n found solace in their memories, grateful for the journey they had embarked upon as parents.

Harry’s gaze shifted to Abel, their youngest, her delicate form a reminder of the challenges they had faced during her birth. A mixture of concern and remorse washed over him as he thought back to that difficult time, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

“Abel’s birth… It still weighs heavily on my heart,” Harry murmured, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and sadness.

Y/n’s hand gently reached out to touch Harry’s, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. “Harry, you mustn’t blame yourself. We couldn’t have predicted what would happen. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t there.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, his guilt evident. “But I should have been there, y/n. I should have been by your side, supporting you through it all. I beat myself up over it, even though I know it wasn’t within my control.”

Y/n’s voice softened as she squeezed his hand, her eyes brimming with understanding. “Harry, listen to me. We faced unforeseen circumstances, and it was a difficult and frightening time. Truth be told, even I struggle to recall much due to the medication I was on.”

A mixture of relief and sorrow flashed across Harry’s face. “I remember how scared I was to see you in so much pain, y/n. And yet, I didn’t want to miss a single moment. I wanted to be there for you.”

Y/n’s gaze met Harry’s, filled with compassion. “You were there in spirit, Harry, even if you couldn’t physically be present. And when we were finally allowed visitors, we both knew Abel was a fighter. She was so tiny, so fragile, but she had a strength that amazed us all.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and adoration. “Our special Abel. She proved time and again how resilient she is. She overcame those early struggles and grew into this incredible little person.”

“I love our family.” Y/N states as she admires all three of her children, including her bump. Y/n’s words filled the room with a tender warmth, echoing the depth of her love for their family. Harry’s heart swelled with gratitude and affection as he looked at their children and then at the bump that held their future.

“I love our family too, y/n,” Harry replied, his voice filled with sincerity. He gently placed his hand on her stomach, feeling the gentle kicks from within. “And I’m so grateful for these precious little ones, including the one growing here.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered with a mixture of love and understanding. “They adore you, Harry. Even in their own unique ways, they feel your love and presence. You are their father, and your love shines through in everything you do.”

A soft smile touched Harry’s lips as he absorbed her words. He knew he couldn’t erase the guilt he carried for not being present during Abel’s birth, but he also realized that forgiveness and acceptance were vital for their family’s growth.

As the comfortable silence enveloped the room, a slight shiver ran through Abel, stirring her from her peaceful slumber. Y/n, ever the attentive mother, moved to pick her up and carry her to her bed, wanting to ensure her comfort.

However, Harry’s protective instinct kicked in, and he gently interjected, “I’ll take care of Abel, love. You’ve been holding her for a while. Let me handle this one.”

Y/n paused, her eyes meeting Harry’s, filled with gratitude for his willingness to step in. She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

With careful precision, Harry cradled Abel in his arms, feeling the warmth of her small body against his chest. He held her close, gently whispering words of comfort as he made his way to her bed.

As Harry tucked Abel in and adjusted the blankets around her, he couldn’t help but marvel at her peaceful expression. His heart swelled with love as he watched her, silently vowing to always be there for her and their entire family.

Y/n stood by, observing the tender moment between father and daughter. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for Harry, appreciating his dedication and the deep bond he shared with their children.

In that gentle exchange, a silent understanding passed between y/n and Harry. They were a team, supporting and nurturing each other and their children through the ups and downs of parenthood. Their actions spoke volumes, reinforcing the unbreakable connection that bound them as a family.

As Abel settled into her bed, her breathing steadied, and a contented sigh escaped her lips. Harry stood by, his hand lingering on her forehead, before turning to y/n with a soft smile.

“Our little warrior is back to dreamland,” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. As Abel whispered her plea for warmth, her small frame curled against Harry’s back, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her adorable request. His heart melted at the sight of her, and he nodded, understanding her need for comfort.

“How about something warm, it will help you sleep?” Harry suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Abel’s face lit up with anticipation, her playful nature shining through. “Hot cocoa?” she asked, her voice filled with cheekiness, fully aware that sweet cocoa on a weekday was a rare indulgence.

Harry smiled warmly, knowing how much she enjoyed the occasional treat. He nodded, feigning seriousness. “I think we can make an exception tonight. Hot cocoa it is.”

Carefully, Harry settled Abel back onto the bed, making sure she was comfortable. He draped a soft blanket over her small body, tucking her in snugly. Then, with gentle strides, he made his way to the kitchen to prepare their special bedtime treat.

The aroma of cocoa filled the air as Harry carefully prepared the warm drink, stirring in the chocolate powder and adding just the right amount of sweetness. He poured the steaming liquid into a cup, watching the swirls of rich chocolate with a sense of satisfaction.

Returning to Abel’s room, Harry found her still nestled in bed, her eyes drooping with fatigue. He settled himself beside her, his free arm cradling the cup of cocoa.

“Here you go, my little one,” Harry whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. “Enjoy your hot cocoa. It’ll warm you up and help you drift off to dreamland.”

Abel’s eyes sparkled with delight as she took the cup in her small hands, blowing gently to cool it down. She took a cautious sip, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Mmm, thank you, Daddy.”

Harry smiled, his heart full. He leaned back against the pillows, carefully cradling Abel against his chest as she settled in, the warmth of the cocoa and their shared embrace lulling her back to sleep.

In that quiet moment, Harry’s heart swelled with love and gratitude. He treasured these precious moments with Abel, cherishing the bond they shared. As he watched her, cocooned in warmth and love, he knew that being a father meant embracing both the role of caregiver and occasional indulgent treat-giver.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Ok, so this is a bit weird, but it's based on a dream I had recently. If it's not your cup of tea, feel free to delete this. TF 141 + Konig with a s/o who is an alien … a literal alien who can shapeshift into any kind of humanoid she wants. But the boys don't know this. Perhaps one day she's a little careless and too relaxed and the guys accidentally see her in her true form. How would they react.

𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧

Task Force 141 (+König) x fem! reader

This is DEFINITELY my cup of tea. Absolutely love this idea and I‘m so excited to write this!! This is maybe gonna take a little longer (just to collect ideas) but I‘m definitely gonna write this because duh? hello? I love this Ask!

Also I changed it a bit… I hope you still like it😅

I recently had a dream about Zombies where I was bit but I didn’t turn😭 This probably was the most unnecessary thing I ever wrote…😭😭 I‘m talking to much… whatever, I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS💘💘💘

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

For years you had kept your extraordinary abilities hidden, skillfully blending in as a soldier, trusted and admired by yourcomrades. However, as time passed, you grew more comfortable and your guard slowly slipped.

One day, the team and you were deployed for a difficult mission, the air heavy with tension. You were feeling more at ease than ever, your mind distracted by the task at hand. Unknown to them, your transformation began to waver, revealing your true form - a blueish body with radiant iridescent skin, multifaceted eyes and ethereal appendages.

At that very moment, Kyle happened to glance in your direction, catching sight of the unexpected sight. Shock and confusion filled his expression, and he couldn't help but stumble backward.

"What the hell is that?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief.

The rest of the team turned their attention towards you, your eyes widening in shock at the realization. Each of them felt a mix of fear and betrayal, wondering how long you had been betraying them. But you didn’t betray them. They were your family. How could you betray them?

König, ever the tactician, took a step forward, his tone serious "Y/n, explain yourself. What is this? Who the fuck are you?"

Your heart pounded, torn between revealing your true nature or fleeing from the confrontation. But the trust you had built with the team, the bonds you had formed, were too precious to abandon.

"I... I'm not from here," You admitted, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "This might sound crazy but I can shapeshift into any humanoid form. And I wish this was a joke…I‘m not a threat!"

Simon Ghost stepped forward, his voice stern but tinged with concern. With a swift motion he had your arms behind your back and your were pressed against the wall. "You expect us to believe that? How do we know you're not some kind of enemy, using our trust against us?"

The hurt and doubt in your teammates eyes was difficult for you to bear but you understood the skepticism. Slowly, you shifted back into the human form, hoping to regain the trust they had now lost. But Simons grip on you was still tight. And it felt personal…

You could easily break free from his grip but you didn’t. This would give them one more reason to not trust you. It would do no good for you and them.

"I swear, I'm not your enemy!" you pleaded, your voice filled with many emotion. "I've been fighting alongside you because I believe in the good we can do together. I swear I‘m not against you!"

Tension hung heavy in the air as each team member considered your words. Eventually, Price spoke up, his voice gruff but measured. "Let's hear her out. If she wanted to harm us, she had plenty of opportunities. Besides, we've all got secrets we'd rather keep hidden." Ghost was a bit hesitant but slowly he releases you.

Your heart swelled with gratitude for Price's empathy, and you took a deep breath, revealing more about yourself. "I was sent from another galaxy. I came to protect this world. You were close to a war and we couldn’t let that happen.. I was sent joined the army so nobody would suspect me. That‘s why I ranked up so fast…"the team began to see the truth in your words, realizing that your intentions had always been aligned.

"We will keep a closer eye on you but for now, you’re not in trouble." the team agreed to give you another chance, recognizing that your abilities could be used for their advantage in fight threats.

"Thank you." you thank them and focus back on the mission. The more details will follow after this mission and you‘re ready to answer everything single one of them. You trust them to not tell anyone and believe that you could continue to fight with them.

You found the family you had lost back then.

And you’re not ready to loose them too.

[umemiyan]

Happy Friday Robin!! ❤️ tell me, what does the weekend routine look like in the Aviary?

HELLO MY WONDERFUL PRECIOUS sorry i didn’t answer this last night i was so damn tired fjdndjskks

but omg okay so weekends are reserved for family fun time <3 aka all the little birdies are forced to get together and do activities because mother says so. also in my fantasy land i don’t work on weekends, so this is actually possible LMAO

on saturday we’ll usually go out and do something or maybe stay home and do like a movie marathon or game night or something like that. it depends on the activity but we usually end up leaving the house sometime in the early afternoon because it takes everyone a while to get ready, but i’ve devised a plan that somewhat moves everything along a little bit faster

belphie and nagi have to get their asses up. i usually employ the help of either tanjiro or suga for this because they’re good motivators while also being capable of gentleness to avoid irritation. hajime can also be good for tasks like these.

denki has to decide which jacket and cologne he wants to wear. hajime has to fix his hair. oikawa’s taking mirror selfies. i have to be kissy kissy with katsuki to keep him from blowing up because “all you damn extras are taking too long” etc. even tho i'm lowkey feeling the same way. it’s a whole process truly, like taking a huge family with lots of children out

some of my good boys like megumi are just sitting off to the side waiting because he in particular has been up since 6am. yuuta’s there with him because that bitch barely sleeps

i usually try to have everybody ready to go by a certain time, but depending on the progress that’s made we sometimes split up. hajime or someone will be like “you go ahead and take those guys and i’ll get everyone else rounded up. we’ll be right behind you.” so me and my little brigade of punctual/efficient babies are loading up in the van to go to the mall or whatever LOL

sundays are way more chill like everyone is just getting up whenever they want and tanjiro will probably try to make two or three different waves of breakfast because he feels bad if somebody misses it fkdjdkdjdn i’m like “tanjiro it’s okay they can just have cereal” but he’s literally already cracking eggs into the pan

everyone’s mostly just chilling around watching tv/movies or playing games with some designated chores mixed in. it’s not an organized family event but it may end up being a whole group thing depending on what we’re watching or doing. even katsuki’s competitive ass cannot resist a mario kart tournament or something djdjsksjje

anyways yeah we’re a big insane family but it’s so much fun <3 oh and we usually have a nice homemade dinner on sunday evening!!! most everyone ends up pitching in one way or another whether it be cooking or setting the table because they’re not allowed near the stove lmfao

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Lil rant (MAYBE PJATO SHOW SPOILERS?)

Lots of opinions up ahead so uh, look out.

I’m watching the PJATO show and I really love some parts. The casting—they’re all wonderful (literally everyone, Mr D is hilarious) and any fears I had have been quelled because they’re all amazing and the trio fit their characters well (even IRL and they’re so precious). Camp Half Blood — so well done. The cabins are huge, the colosseum is just what I imagined, and they really did great on making it properly large and vibrant. I love it. Some of the extra beats they’ve added to make it better expanded beyond the strictly Percy POV in the book have been good. Annabeth and Grover chucking Percy into a fountain to try to heal him was hilarious and totally in character—probably my favorite part so far. Also: AHHHH SEAWEED BRAIN!

But is anyone just feeling… like the pacing is super slow? Like I get that us “zoomers” have tiny attention spans and stuff but “The Horse and His Boy” was my favorite Narnia book and I read LOTR when I was 11 so I don’t think my attention span is quite so bad. These kids got ADHD and it feels like every talk and every scene just drags. Every time I think the energy is gonna rise, it gets smacked back down by lackluster scene climaxes. Again, I’m not trying to say we need more explosions or booms or arguments, just that I]it isn’t even remotely eliciting the same kind of goose-pimple/heart thumping moments I remember from the books. I reread them constantly and it’s always thrilling.

And the music… someone I was watching it with said it sounded like generic Marvel music, and they’re kinda right. I can’t remember a single note from the score at all, and I’m always listening to movie/TV scores because they’re like listening to the story in music format! PJATO’s score though? Can’t even remember it. I can’t remember any of it even being used in certain places. I thought they’d try to get older instrumentals to make it unique, like lyre AND electric guitar in the mix, but honestly I can’t even remember what it sounds like. That’s bad, right?

[[EDIT: I just looked up the score on Spotify and it was literally made by the people who did the “God of War” game score. There’s no freakin way this music is bad. I’m gonna listen to it alone later. Maybe it’s just set really low in the mix… ]]

The “death” of Sally Jackson was so lackluster. Just a standard medium long shot, can’t even remember if the music flourished or dropped or anything. Their acting was great, but it was framed so poorly that it just felt… idk…

The pacing feels like it’s something I would do as an amateur who doesn’t yet understand how to edit on my first few write-up’s of a script. I’m not trying to be mean or unfair because I REALLY wanna love this show and I genuinely love a lot of stuff about it and I can tell that so many people are working so hard on it, but holy moly I feel my brain begging for someone to do something impertinent and just slap the show into a roll whenever I’m watching it.

There’s another issue I have with the timing of the most recent episode but I don’t wanna go much further.

Again, this is all opinion and not meant to say anyone shouldn’t like the show or that the people in it are stupid because they aren’t at all and people should like it! I’m just saying that as someone that really appreciated the pacing of the books (that was quick but never sacrificed the storytelling and slowed down when it needed to), I am really feeling that this show isnt shaping up like that. Additional note: I’m not even saying that the pacing of the show needs to BE the pacing of the books. I’m just saying that the pacing of the books is one of the things that made it so good and I really haven’t read many things with pacing of that quality.

Aaaanyway feel free to disagree with me or roast me alive. I just haven’t seen anyone talking about it and I wanted to rant a little and see what other people thought. I’m still gonna keep watching because I think if they can fix the pacing, imma really freaking enjoy this and in case they do, I don’t wanna miss it. And because I’d rather have more PJATO show than less!